Honey felt her interior widen, the muscles lessening, relaxing in eagerness. She felt hot! She wanted to throw off her bikini top to cool the tips of her burning globes.
Nickie was not the sort of man to ignore an invitation like hers for long! Reaching behind her, he unsnapped the hooks of the bra top, letting it fall to the floor between them.
Soon they were rolling together on the king-size bed. Her fingernails dug into his back as she felt his throbbing passion against her soft stomach.
"Oh, hurry, Nickie, hurry," she murmured.
CHAPTER ONE
THE TOP OF HER BIKINI DROPPED....
The moon was shining over Miami Beach. On the sand the blonde stretched voluptuously and yawned, heaving her enormous,' barely clad breasts at the sky as though she were hopeful of a moon-tan. She adjusted the surfboard, which stuck by its fin into the sand, and formed a rest for her head.
Suddenly she sat up tensed, poised for action. There had been a sound. She peered over the edge of the sand hill, where the beach dropped sharply into the Atlantic Ocean. A man in a shiny black rubber suit was just rising from the water. The blonde flattened herself against the sand and watched. He came onto the beach. Removing his breathing apparatus, he dropped it beside him and sighed deeply.
He wasn't a bad looking fellow, the girl decided. She plumped up her bosom and gave a tug at the bottom half of her bikini. Then she gasped!
The man on the beach had unfastened his rubber suit and was peeling it off. Underneath it, he wore an impeccably pressed tuxedo, complete with a midnight blue jacket and a pink carnation that was only slightly wilted. A dozen red poker chips tumbled to the sand, followed by a fifty dollar bill and a black lace garter.
He stepped out of the suit and gazed indecisively at the litter he had made. Then, with the toe of his shoe, he brushed sand over the poker chips. He picked up the money and shoved it into his pocket. Snapping the garter, he gazed down the beach at the row of brightly-lighted luxury hotels.
The blonde grinned and rose, brushing the sand from her bare midriff, and marched down to the startled man. "Hello," she said.
"Hello." He indicated the garter. "I don't seem to need this. Would you like to have it? I mean, do you wear them?"
"Thank you," said the blonde. "You're just in time for the party."
"Really? Where is it?"
"Wherever you're going, love," she said.
"My suite at the Tropic Sands Hotel, then?"
"Ah, very swank," she cried approvingly. "What's your name?"
"My name? You can call me Nickie if you like. I'm incognito. It's my family. I embarrass them. They think I'm a bit of a-well, playboy. And your name?"
She grimaced. "If you really have to know, it's Edith Erlene Milch. Honey to you. Everybody calls me that"
"Nobody's what he seems anymore," her companion sighed philosophically.
"True, the world's in a sad state," Honey said.
"You're a surfer, aren't you?" Nickie asked.
"It's the only thing that makes me feel free. I feel my soul is one with the eternal sea, and besides, it gives me a nice tan." Honey pulled down the top of her bikini and a creamy band of springy flesh leaped into view. For a moment Nickie caught just a glimpse of soft, rosy nipples. Honey snapped her bra back in place.
The huge mounds quivered as if with disappointment as the narrow strip of cloth closed again over the wondrous tips. Honey sighed and a dreamy look came over her face. But Nickie wasn't watching her face. He was still staring with fascination at her bodice where two grape sized protrusions were slowly forming as her hardening nipples swelled and strained against the cloth of her suit. It wasn't difficult to tell where Honey's mind was. Nickie felt his chest tighten, and he was almost overcome by an urge to thrust his hand inside and squeeze both the bold little grapes. Maybe his hands would make them the size of walnuts. He had known such things to happen.
Instead, he offered her his arm. "My hotel?" he questioned with a tell-tale intake of breath.
It was one of those high-rise jobs-thirty stories up with potted palms, pastel carpets, and a sweeping semicircular ramp leading up to the revolving door. While Nickie got his key at the desk, Honey occupied herself ostensibly by staring into the big splashy fountain in the lobby, while in reality she took in the extreme amount of bowing and scraping that was going on over Nickie. She wondered a-bout the garter. Whose was it? Where had he been to just walk out of the ocean in a tuxedo with poker chips in his rubber suit?
Naturally she could not ask him. One didn't do that sort of thing with a man like Nickie. One was blase. What did one do with Nickie, she wondered? If one were a woman, that is. Certain possibilities flashed through her mind and created a tingling down her spine. Her breath came faster. Watch it, she warned herself. It was a detriment to Honey's high society love life that she often failed to be blase enough at her moment of ecstasy. She had a way of sighing and heaving, even, come to think of it, crying out. The acceptable behaviour, she knew, was to grunt once and ask for a cigarette. But Honey was a simple country girl who had come to the city seeking sophistication and the closest she had ever come was two grunts. She would have to be very careful tonight.
She joined Nickie at the elevator and they rode the thirty floors to his penthouse suite. At the fifth floor Honey caressed Nickie's shirt with the tips of her breasts, causing sand to collect in the pleats.
Noting the sand, Nickie solicitiously lifted one of her heavy breasts out of its cup and began brushing sand grains off it. The entire length of the cone was sandy. There were sparkling grains on the golden tan flesh, grains on the creamy band where her bikini had shut out the sun, grains on the wide roseate from which her deep red nipple stood out as if it were a fruit lying on a plate.
"I s'pose you're wondering why I'm doing this," he told Honey, who was getting little goose pimples all over the area from the expert touch of his lightly moving fingers.
"Umm," she murmured.
"The reason," said Nickie, "is that I intend to nibble this. Perhaps devour it, even, should I become aroused sufficiently. And I do not like to place anything gritty in my mouth. It spoils the texture and it's not very sanitary either.
"I believe you're coming along nicely arousal-wise," Honey commented joyfully as they reached the seventh floor. She had seen a definite stirring in his pants.
By the time they had reached the tenth floor something was stirring inside her pants also-his hand. Honey bit her lip, trying to control the delight that surged through her lovely body.
The delicate little hairs on her bare stomach stood out as he explored her intimate secrets. Her firm thighs parted slightly to facilitate his efforts. Her breasts rose, swelling with passion as she drew in her breath. She asked for a cigarette
"Filter or plain?" said Nickie.
"Filter," said Honey.
Nickie put his free hand inside his jacket and came up with a package. "Plain," he sighed, thrusting them away and continuing to delve, each hand working at its respective task.
At the fifteenth floor the elevator stopped and Honey's breast was quickly popped back into its container as a middle-aged woman got on. Nickie tried to pull his hand out of Honey's suit and discovered that his cuff link was caught in the seam. But Honey was nothing if not a quick thinker. She unbuttoned his jacket and pulled it open to cover herself.
Nickie's hand struggled wildly in its effort to be free. Honey's hips rotated feverishly, out of control in an agony of desire. Nickie began to perspire and Honey's breath came in gasps.
"Let me help you look," she said. "Oh! Ohh!" Her feet did a dance on the elevator floor as the frantic twisting of Nickie's hand rammed his fingers higher inside her. The middle-aged woman looked at her sharply. Honey would not have been embarrassed if the woman hadn't reminded her of her mother. Honey's mother thought she was in Miami studying to be a dental assistant.
She found another package of cigarettes, took one and put it in her mouth. Nickie came up with a silver lighter. He flicked it three times before it caught.
"Blasted thing," he said. Honey took a long, grateful drag and blew out the smoke.
The middle-aged passenger snorted and coughed. "I think it's terrible for a young girl to smoke," she said.
"It's filter," Honey said meekly. "Oooh!" A particularly interesting thrust of Nickie's hand made Honey inhale when she should have exhaled. She choked, tears came to her eyes, and she went into a fit of uncontrollable coughing.
"There, there," said the passenger. "Don't take on so. Come see me sometime. We'll read some inspirational literature together."
"Thank you," said Honey.
"Room 1910," she said gaily. "Don't forget."
When the woman got out on the nineteenth floor, Honey was still coughing. The jiggling the coughing was causing in her stomach and thighs was increasing her passion. She pressed down against Nickie's wriggling hand.
Poor Nickie was getting a cramp in his fingers. Also, the walls of his luscious prison were becoming quite damp. Even wet. If his fingers stayed where they were much longer, they were going to look like prunes when he took them out!
Honey felt her interior widen, the muscles lessening, relaxing in eagerness. She felt hot. She wanted to throw off her bikini top to cool the tips of her burning globes. She was about to do so when the elevator stopped again and she saw that a dapper little white-haired gentleman was getting on.
As the elevator began to rise once more, the man said nothing, but was content to stand solemnly with his hands folded and his cane dangling over his forearm. He stared intently at the lining of Nickie's jacket where it was still held open to cover the turbulence ensuing in Honey's bikini. A flush rose to Honey's cheeks. Even Nickie seemed a bit perturbed.
The man began to giggle. His laughter increased gradually until at last he seemed almost overcome.
"What's so funny?" said Honey, who was feeling rather mirthless.
"Oh, it's Lady Willingham," the man said.
"The woman who just got off?" Nickie asked.
"Yes. You do know about her don't you?"
Honey and Nickie shook their heads. There was something about being in an elevator in the wee hours between the twenty-third and thirtieth floors of the Tropic Sands; something that inspired confidences.
"Well-" the man took a deep breath. "I suppose that she asked you, young lady, to come and read inspirational passages with her."
"Yes," said Honey.
"Don't go, oh ha, ha," he laughed. He wiped his eyes. "Such inspiration. All about slave girls running about naked, sucking each other's bosoms and things and such. She's an out and out lesbian. Spends most of her time seducing girls up to her room to confess their sins and then showing them sins they never dreamed of. Oh, she's a clever old girl. Not that she doesn't like a man once in a while. Lately I hear she likes to prance about the room naked and the man has to follow her whinnying like a stallion. Last year she wanted him to crow like a rooster. Has this thing for animals. Myself-I once told her that the goat was the most efficient animal in intercourse. It's quite true, you know. But she took offense at the suggestion that she should imitate one. Oh well, an odd character. You know what they say. It takes all kinds to make up the world. Here's my floor." He took the cane off his arm and stroked it fondly as he left.
As the door slid closed, Honey started to laugh. "Am I tickling you?" Nickie asked concernedly.
"No," Honey said. "Don't you know who that was? Reginald Withers, the infamous flagellant. He's going to a meeting of his Pain for Pleasure club. Everybody knows they operate on the twenty-eighth floor, but the police never can seem to catch them. Honestly, Nickie, I thought you dug the scene around here."
'Well," Nickie said.
"I know," Honey soothed. "You're a nice boy, aren't you? Kind of innocent"
"I suppose that's it," he agreed. His index finger was wedged between her soft nether lips and he had found it impossible to withdraw it with his cuff link fastened as it was. In an effort to do so he had inserted another finger and, finding himself still unsuccessful, he was opening and closing the fingers scissor-like. "Here we are," he announced as they got out of the elevator. "I'm really dreadfully sorry a-bout this. It's never happened before."
"Not to me either," Honey assured him as they hobbled to the door of his suite.
CHAPTER TWO
HER TWITCHING THIGHS....
Nickie unlocked the door. Inside the suite was carpeted in deep, fluffy white pile. Brocade drapes were drawn back to reveal a balcony and a sweeping view of the ocean. Beyond the sitting room loomed the bedroom, the open French doors of the closet displaying a collection of at least fifty suits with shoes lined up below on the floor.
"Now let's see, "said Nickie. "What had we better do?"
"We'd better go in there, I think," said the panting Honey, urging him toward the bedroom. It had an immense bed that seemed to be beckoning her.
"Very well," Nickie agreed. "Now. Maybe if I put both hands inside, I can work the thing loose."
"Oooh!" cried Honey as he suited action to words. "Oooh! Oooh!" Honey was boiling; the seething liquid passion inside her almost scalded Nickie's hands. The second hand had entered her bikini from the rear, caressing the plump twin mounds of her sweet buttocks, working itself into the cleft between them and pressing until she cried out in surprise.
At the sound of her cry, he abandoned this target and let his hand slide toward the front of her suit where it joined his other hand in the task of rubbing Honey's already overwrought womanhood.
She was sitting on his lap now, her twitching thighs reverberating against him. Her arms went around his neck and her lips pressed against his, her tongue knocking violently at the door of his mouth until he opened it and allowed her to explore the backsides of his teeth with little darting thrusts.
When she had ceased this activity, Nickie began to bite her ear and nuzzle her neck so that little cold chills of excitement twittered down her hot body into the pit of her stomach.
The bedroom, like the sitting room, had a too-neat air about it. As if nobody had been here recently. Honey had the strange feeling that Nickie had never been here before, and yet that was silly. There were his clothes.
And now he was saying that she probably needed a drink and that there was some nice Napoleon brandy in the liquor cabinet that he would get for her just as soon as he got them unjoined.
"Golly! How are we ever going to get apart?" Two big tears coursed down Honey's cheeks. She was going to die of frustration.
"Don't cry. I'll think of something. I know. I'll get a knife and cut off my cuff."
"Oh no," said Honey. "That wouldn't be fair. After all, I started it."
"Well, we'll toss a coin. Which'll you have?"
"Tails," Honey giggled.
"All right. Heads my cuff and tails your bathing suit." He flipped the coin and it went into Honey's bodice. She stripped it off. Her big nipples, hard and red like two perfect strawberries, pointed at him. The coin rolled off and fell to the floor.
"It's tails," cried Honey, not without a trace of glee. They struggled into the kitchen.
"I'll just cut down the seam and then later you can sew it up," Nickie suggested.
"Yes, yes. Hurry!" Honey cried.
He cut. The suit fell away revealing her quivering belly and the marvel below it. It was a curly blonde marvel, just showing the pulsating pink entrance to her tunnel of love. Nickie groaned and, instead of removing his fingers, he shoved them up as high as was possible.
Gently Honey reminded him that he was free. "Oh," said Nickie sadly.
"Now we'll take off your clothes," Honey said.
"Ah," said Nickie gladly and they raced back into the bedroom.
"Whee," said Honey as she pulled off his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt. Nickie didn't say anything because his mouth was full of breast. He rolled his tongue over the nipple as a man might savor a grape before biting into it. Honey's hand was on his zipper. He felt his trousers fall and his weapon leaped out fresh and in full blossom like a daisy after a spring rain.
"Oh look at the size of you!" Honey chirped.
"And the size of you!" returned Nickie, who was a man to pay a compliment where one was due. He squeezed a generous breast in each hand so that the luscious tips bulged out and trembled invitingly. Nickie was not a man to ignore an invitation either. He returned to biting and sucking one and then the other furiously, like a wine taster who has suddenly confused his vintages.
Honey's twitching hips issued an invitation as well, and soon they were rolling on the satin-covered mattress together. Her fingernails dug into his back as she felt his throbbing passion against her soft stomach.
"Oh, hurry, Nickie, hurry," she murmured.
"What?" said Nickie, who was nibbling her neck.
"Hurry! Do what we have to do! Do it!" Honey's legs spread and wrapped themselves about Nickie's rear.
Nickie sighed and sat up, spilling her off beside him. It seemed to Honey that his manliness wilted slightly. "Ah, yes. We do have to do something. That is, I do. You'll help me, I hope."
"Oh boy, will I ever!" enthused the fluttering Honey. "I'm not the sort of girl to just lie there and let the poor man wear himself out."
"Thank you," said Nickie. "I knew a good friend like you wouldn't let me down."
"Well," giggled Honey, "I guess you might say I'll let you down. I certainly won't leave you all up in the air like that, no sir! Hey, what are you doing?"
He was opening the nightstand. At first Honey thought he must be reaching for one of those little gizmos to put on his whatzit, or so she modestly phrased the thought. She gave a little sigh of disappointment. He didn't trust her. Honey felt hurt. She was a good girl. She always took her pills.
Instead of the expected gizmo, Nickie came up with a pair of heavy horn-rimmed glasses. These he put on, alleviating his nudity only slightly. Yick, thought Honey. He must be one of those characters who liked to play games. Nickie delved into the nightstand again and took out a sheaf of papers.
Sitting cross-legged on the bed, his glasses stuck mid-way down his nose, he began leafing through them. "Hmm," he said. He stared for a long moment at Honey. "Let's see. You're a girl-"
"Yes, yes," Honey agreed, lifting both breasts for evidence.
"Then this picture should do."
"So that was it. He liked erotic pictures. "Let me see! Oh, let me see!" she squealed.
"Certainly," said Nickie and handed her the picture.
"But-it's just a picture of a girl walking down a street. With all her clothes on."
"One usually does wear one's clothes on the street," Nickie shrugged.
"But what-"
"I'm engaged in a sort of psychological research project," Nickie said. "Just something I do to occupy my time. What I want you to do is look at that picture and tell me a story about it You know-where you think the girl is going and things like that"
"You see, I have this way of falling asleep afterward or at least I forget what I was doing before," Nickie apologized. "Perhaps after you finish the story, if we're still in the mood-"
"In the nude?"
"Mood," said Nickie.
"Oh, I'm sure we will be," Honey said.
"Now then," Nickie said, making preliminary scratches on the note pad with a ball point pen. "Where do you think the girl is going?"
"Umm, let's see. Oh, to see her lover, of course."
"Of course," Nickie sighed.
"The poor, poor girl-" said Honey.
"Poor girl?" said Nickie.
Honey was warming to the subject now. Her eyes gleamed with excitement. "Yes, poor girl," she said. "Because the whole evening is going to be a disaster. You see, she is going to find out that her man is a music lover. This fellow has to have this particular piece playing or else he goes limp as a dish rag."
"Umm," said Nickie. 'That is strange."
"Very. Would you like to know how it all started?"
"Oh yes indeed," Nickie was writing busily on his note pad.
"Well, when he was about fourteen he went to this piano recital. Naturally he just hated to go, but what was going to happen to him was one of the biggest moments in an adolescent boy's life."
"What moment?"
"Just be patient," said Honey. "You'll see. The recital was being held in the parlor of one of the student's houses and this family had a young aunt living with them and she had just about the biggest boobies in the whole town. In fact, some of the young men used to joke and say that if she'd display them at the county fair she'd be sure to win a prize."
"But she was a very nice girl and actually the size of her goodies just mostly bewildered her and she hardly knew what nature had given them to her for, except to hold out the front of her dress farther so the world could see her Sunday school medals. But lately a fellow who was considered the town rogue had been sniffing around auntie, and she'd been doing a bit of sniffing the breeze herself. Nothing serious, mind you. Now the rogue had fallen madly in love with auntie and he wanted to marry her, but when he asked her she said no, she never could because even though she loved him, she was respectable and he wasn't, and since it wouldn't be respectable to marry someone disrespectable, the whole thing was impossible, and she was going to marry the butcher's son, who was going to inherit his father's shop."
"Very prudent," said Nickie.
"Nickie!" Honey was shocked.
"But not very romantic," Nickie amended.
"So," said Honey, "just before the recital, auntie and her rogue had been smooching a bit behind the althea bush. It was summer and auntie had on a sleeveless dress just held up by a couple of straps. When the rogue saw that, he knew it was his big chance, and while they were kissing and feeling and all, he frayed those straps with his pocket knife.
"When auntie went in and sat down primly, her lover knew that all she had to do was take one deep breath and-a little girl was playing when it happened. Auntie was very fond of that selection and she drew in her breath and gave out this rapturous sigh and at the same time her straps broke and her bodice came down."
"Maybe the community could have forgiven her, except for one thing. She wasn't wearing a bra, and there were those great big red titties stuck out in front of every important person in town. Well, when everybody saw that and, of course, nobody thought that it's being a hot day was any excuse for not wearing decent underclothes-when everybody saw those big, big breasts, they knew about auntie. They all knew she wasn't respectable, and so she ran off and married the rogue, who she loved because now she was disrespectable like him."
"And the fourteen year old boy?" Nickie prompted.
"Oh yes. When he saw those big, wobbling, shining globes, well, his you-know-what just naturally stood up and like to split open his pants and he had to make-a little tent across his lap with the program. They were his first breasts, you understand."
"Yes," Nickie said.
"So ever after that, he could only get hot when that same piece was playing."
"Ifs very interesting," Nickie said, "but I still don't see what's so bad about it"
"For heaven's sake!" Honey cried in disbelief. "Wait! Did I tell you the name of the piece?"
"No."
"It was the Minute Waltz?" Honey said smugly. "You mean-?"
"Exactly! He no sooner turns on the record and gets into bed than the minute's up and he's got to jump up and start the thing over again. He's nothing but vienna sausage when the music stops."
"Gee," that's terrible," Nickie said.
"Terrible," Honey said. "Do you want me to tell you another story?"
"No," said Nickie. His hand was working between her lovely pulsating thighs. "Well, here we are-still in the nude."
"Mood," Honey corrected.
"Yes," Nickie said breathlessly. Honey's thighs were closed tightly about his hand, her plump buttocks writhed against the bed. She bent forward and applied her tongue to Nickie's alert manhood, caressing it with long strokes that made them both shudder with excitement.
Then, with a lunge, he flattened her and threw himself atop her heaving body. Honey's legs flew apart, her knees rose and she clutched him to her as he plunged deep into her velvety channel.
Then, for a while, there was nothing but the steady no-nonsense oscillation of hips and the frenzied pounding of Honey's feet as she dug her toes into the covers in an attempt to control her raging delight. Nickie felt her stomach tighten under him. She shoved upward wildly, and then the silence was broken by a long ecstatic scream.
"Wipeout!" She fell back panting as her cry died away. As she recovered herself, she felt exasperated. What a gauche thing to do! She grunted aloud to demonstrate to herself what she would do next time she reached her pinnacle. Well, maybe not if it were with Nickie. Wow!
She looked at him curiously. He was asleep with his glasses askew, and it was obvious that he had shared Honey's explosion.
Honey got out of bed. She wasn't sleepy; such things never made her sleepy. They made her hungry. She decided to see if she couldn't scare up a little champagne around this place. And a sandwich. Maybe he'd wake up and do her again.
The thought made Honey wiggle. She patted her soft little stomach. Gee, if she didn't cut down on love-making pretty soon, she was going to get fat! But that Nickie! Boy, had he given her an appetite!
And she didn't even know who he knew or where he had come from, just rising up from the sea like that-in a tuxedo-a pink carnation in his lapel-and poker chips.
Honey wandered into the kitchen.
CHAPTER THREE
BETWEEN HER NAKED THIGHS....
Nickie was having a dream. He tossed in his sleep. He frowned.
"Now, Nickie!" pleaded a girl in his dream.
"Now? Are you sure you don't want me to kiss your breasts some more? That left one, for instance. It doesn't look quite as swollen as the other. Let me-"
"No! You've done that already! They're practically raw!" She cradled her breasts protectively. "What I want is the main event! You know. The feature attraction! Now! Right now!"
Her breasts heaved froward, the roseates of her nipples expanding as she unfastened Nickie's trousers. "Oh," she moaned in disappointment, a disappointment that reflected the pang of the unrelieved ache between her naked thighs.
She had let him kiss and suck her breasts for twenty minutes and still he had experienced no upsurge. She felt a challenge. Nickie was always a challenge. Getting him aroused was a major accomplishment.
But she felt equal to it.
She sighed and bent her head to the uninspired organ. It hardly made half a mouthful, but she kissed anyway. She kissed and sucked and even bit it, ever so gently, which made him say ouch.
It was not the kind of response she had in mind.
She took his hand and ran it over her luscious legs, which were tensed with desire so that the veins on the inside of the thighs stood out under the succulent flesh. For a moment he tightened his fingers on her midnight triangle.
He drew in his breath and twisting his fingers in the hair, yanked her against him by means of it. She giggled with relief and parted her legs over his forearm, wiggling against it.
But his moment of arousal was over as quickly as it had begun, vanishing without warning, like a summer squall. Nickie put his head in his hands. "I can't do it," he moaned. "I just can't do it"
The girl's eyes softened. She sat down on the bed beside him and stroked his hair. "Dorogaya," she murmured in sympathy.
In Russian it meant darling.
It was natural that Nickie should be speaking Russian. After all, he was a Russian. A Russian with his dorogaya, alone in an apartment rather unusually comfortable for Moscow. Alone at dusk on a cold winter day.
The girl took a copy of Pravda and begun to rustle it She was pretty sure the place was bugged and she wanted to say something confidential.
"Nickie," she whispered, "I think you're in trouble."
"Yes," he replied dispiritedly. "We've been meeting for three months now and only twice have I ever been able to manage the-uh-main event. Maybe I'd better see a doctor. It's just my work. I'm so worried about my work. I'm so tense. You would be too if you'd never managed to fill your quota in twenty-four months!"
"But Nickie, dear," she soothed, "it isn't your fault. Who can help it with a job like yours?"
"Yes. I know. That is, I know that no one knows what happened to them. They disappeared. Siberia at best. Maybe shot or in prison."
"You just can't imagine what it's like, being in charge of American-aimed propaganda," Nickie moaned. 'They are so stubborn. Americans! I write and write and write. I swear I turn out leaflets that would be a credit to Tolstoy. And still they do not defect! If some Americans do not defect soon, I'll be in terrible trouble."
"That's what I was trying to tell you!" the girl hissed, redoubling her rustling of the newspaper. You're in trouble! Listen! When I came in I saw a man watching me!"
"Well, that's not such a wonder with legs like yours," said Nickie.
She blushed. "No, no," she said. "I mean it wasn't really a man. It was one of them. The birddogs! The secret police! You know-you can tell them by the way they walk.
"Oh dear," said Nickie distractedly. "What'll I do? Oooh!" He seized one of her breasts and clung to it as a sort of security symbol, twisting it worriedly. She climbed onto his lap spraddle-legged and pushed herself against him, caressing him with the tips of her breasts while she rocked gently back and forth on his lap.
There were heavy footsteps on the stairs. Nickie squeezed the girl more tightly. "This is it!" he groaned. 'The moment I've been dreading for two years! They're coming for me! Oh, Great Lenin's mustache! What'll I do!"
"Nickie, look!"
He looked where she indicated. He had almost forgotten that she had been massaging his manhood with her own little delectables. Now it was quiveringly upright as though it possessed a mind of its own.
"Oh, do it! Do it, Nickie!" she squealed. The footsteps were louder. Nickie could feel the floor vibrating.
"Not now!" he gasped.
"Yes, now!" Tears came into her eyes. "Think of how long I've waited! How patient I've been!"
Nickie considered. This time tomorrow he would probably be dead. At least he could give the girl this memory-she read the consent on his face and, with a cry of joy, she rose slightly and, impaling herself, sank down slowly, gasping with the thrill of the penetration.
"Comrade! Open up!" They were pounding at the door. On Nickie's lap the girl rose and fell feverishly, her rear waving, her arms in a vise about his neck.
"Open up or we shall be forced to break in the door!" came a cry. There was more pounding. It rose to a crescendo. Then there was silence, followed by the thud of shoulders crashing against the door
"Ah," sighed the girl. "Hurry, Nickie!" He thrust upward fiercely. He knew that Russian buildings were very flimsily constructed.
"Wham!" The door gave. Half a dozen pairs of police boots trampled on it as the officers entered. The girl continued to writhe. Nickie buried his head against her shoulder and closed his eyes. He did not want to see the police.
But, after all, the police were only human. They formed a semicircle around the pair. "You may finish, Comrade," one said.
Nickie was grateful for every minute before the prison doors closed around him. He tried to delay her ecstasy, but she was too eager after her long wait.
Her nails dug into his back and she flailed him with her fists when he tried to slow the action of their furiously moving bodies. The bed, which wa-as flimsily constructed as the building gave way, the slats snapping like kindling twigs under the onslaught of their pounding thighs.
Amid the rubble she took over the initiative, throwing herself atop her lover and flattening her big breasts against him as her rear rose and fell.
"Listen," Nickie hissed, "don't you know the climax is better when you take it nice and easy? I'd like this to last, you know. Like say-fifty years."
But his partner was not to be put off even fifty seconds longer. Any climax was better than one and she wasn't the patient type. Paroxysms swept over her churning body and, to judge by the violence of her convulsion, she had lost not a bit of intensity because of the rapidity of the congress.
She screamed as she hit the peak of her passion and was plunged over it into bliss. In that scream Nickie thought he heard his death knell. And as she slid away, he saw, sorrow of sorrows, his manhood still upraised, like a mighty oak tree, still unfelled.
Nickie sighed. Such were the hardships of Russian living.
She asked for a cigarette. He took a package of the Russian brand, Papirosi, off the bedside table and gave her one. It amounted to about half an inch of tobacco in a cardboard clyinder.
He lighted it for her, and she inhaled, a frustrated look coming to her face. She pinched the tube to push the tobacco closer to her mouth. Grimacing, she inhaled again.
"Goodbye Nickie," she said, as the police encircled him and marched him away. He was a dead man.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE DREAM....
The walls of Nickie's cell were dank. They also were red. The red color, he knew, was designed to drive the occupant mad. For this reason, Nickie had closed his eyes the minute the hue had ceased to remind him of the breasts of his dorogaya. He had kept his eyes closed most of the time since. He thought it must have been about a week. Footsteps came along the corridor and stopped at his door. A key turned in the lock.
"Nicolas Alexi Mravinsky?"
Nickie nodded.
"Come with me."
Nickie followed the guard into a warm office. The man behind the desk was fat and bald, and his uniform was adorned with medals. He peered at the prisoner through steel-rimmed glasses, his almost colorless blue eyes striking calculated terror into Nickie's heart.
"Nicolas Alexi Mravinsky?" he said, spitting the question out contemptuously. Again Nickie nodded.
"Traitor! You are a triator! You are in league with capitalistic American swine! Admit it! Ifs no use to lie!"
"I'm not" said Nickie, trembling. "I've never even met an American!"
"Well, then, what have you to say for yourself? Your record is scandalous, comrade!" He turned through some papers on his desk. "Take last March.
Do you realize that during the month of March not one American defected!" His voice rose and he brought down his fist. "Not one! Comrade! If you cannot make an American defect in March, how do you expect to make him do it in, say, June, when the birds are singing and the flowers are all in bloom?"
Nickie shrugged. "What can I say, comrade? I have done my best for the fatherland."
His interrogator sighed. "It is true," he said. "The propaganda you write is beautiful. The way you write of peaceful, joyful labor, of the largest turbines in the history of the world, of the wonderful efficacity of the mudbaths of our Caucasian spas. I cannot understand how it is that our message keeps bouncing off the American public."
He shoved a blank sheet of paper at Nickie. "Sign at the bottom," he commanded.
"But why?"
"It's your confession," the officer explained. "Never mind that the paper is blank. We will gladly compose your confession for you in case you should fail your new mission."
Nickie went limp with relief as he shakily signed the paper. So he was not to be shot at once! He was to have another chance!
"Comrade," he promised, "I will give the new assignment my all!"
"Good. Actually it is not exactly a new assignment It is simply a new approach to the old one," his superior explained. "You said that you had never met an American. I believe you. Therefore I am going to give you a new task." He paused dramatically. "You are going to America."
"America!"
The officer watched Nickie's face closely. Any betrayal of joy on his features would have disqualified him at once, would have sent him to the firing squad. But Nickie was too astonished to show any emotion but incredulity.
"You are to observe Americans," the officer went on. "You will see them with their hair down. As they relax and play. That way it will be easier for you to find out what motivates them. That will be your task. You are to find out what is wrong with our propaganda, and when you return you will write new propaganda and there will be many defectors. A fine plan, is it not?"
"Remarkable," said Nickie.
"And your cover identity is equally clever," said the officer. "It is one that will ingratiate you with Americans. They will long to make your acquaintance-to shake your hand-to drink with you. That way it will be most easy for you to observe them."
"I am to pose as a great scientist then? Or a doctor?"
"Certainly not. You are going to be a millionaire. A playboy millionaire. You are going to Miami Beach, which is a great playground of the filthy American rich."
"But comrade," said Nickie, "I don't know anything about being a millionaire."
"That will be taken care of, too," said the officer. "You will be sent at once to spy school. You will learn what to wear-what to say-what to order to eat. You will even have an opportunity usually available only to top KGB intelligence officers. You will have a course in the seduction of women and, when you have finished it, there will never be a woman who leaves your embrace unsatisfied."
"Now-as to details. Our resident spies in the United States-the residentura-will arrange everything for you. They will rent for you the penthouse suite of the Tropic Sands Hotel and stock it with clothing and other articles. Everything you need will be there, right down to toothpaste and the proper sort of literature for the man you are to be. They will supply in advance maps of the suite and hotel, which you will memorize."
"You will, of course, not be so foolish as to contact these agents directly. We always go to great lengths to avoid danger to one of the residentura. They are invaluable to our purposes, and we sometimes invest as much as ten years in establishing one of them."
"You will learn to contact these people, by dubok, which is our term for dead drop, the leaving of a message in a secret place so that there is no personal contact.
"In this case we have selected a palm tree. You will memorize its exact location later. You will find the messages in a beer can buried at its base."
"You are like Cinderella; your coach will turn into a pumpkin at the end of your assignment. Sooner, if you make a serious mistake. If you make a mistake, the Executive Action Division of the KGB will take care of you at once."
"The Executive Action Division, comrade?" Nickie said.
"Yes. It consists of nothing but trained assassins and is in charge of all such matters as are necessary. Do you understand your assignment?"
"Yes, comrade," said Nickie.
CHAPTER FIVE
UHMMM, YES....
At the spy school, Nickie mastered courses in killing and sabotage with ease.
For his superb performance in Advanced Lies, he was awarded a medal. Alas, however, lays gave Nickie more trouble than lies.
He was almost flunking beginning seduction.
The first morning of the class wasn't really so bad, but the single teaching aid the instructor used for his lecture should have warned Nickie of what was to come. The teaching aid was a life-sized picture of a naked woman.
As for the instructor, he was a wiry little fellow with a wiry little mustache, and he looked about as satyrical as a grasshopper.
His very first words belied his looks. "This," he announced, his voice rising to a screech, "is a woman." He paused. "Are there any questions?" There weren't. The instructor looked pleased that the class understood so far.
He whammed the poster with his pointer, an action which delivered a powerful whack to the female's erotic triangle. The paper boomed and rattled. Its thighs seemed to quiver. Its bosom jiggled, the gaily painted red tips dancing.
The instructor wrapped the poster again on its intimacy. "This is the target," he said, spitting out the words. "It is the most erogenous zone. Between the legs here you will find, if you look, two soft pink petals of flesh. You must squeeze these. You must bite, one after the other. You must throw your tongue between them, so that it is caressing the insides of both at the time. It is the most direct method of securing the entrance to the channel they guard.
"In theory, it is much the same as hitting a sentry over the head or getting him drunk.
"The woman's little petals will become giddy at your touch. Of course, there is a certain biting technique you must use. It will render her as defenseless to your advances as if you had pressed a vital nerve.
"Of course, there are other ways. There will be lectures on thighs, breasts, stomachs-" Whap, whap, whap, the poster did a jig as the professor bashed his pointer irreverently against each of the named areas.
"Ah, but too much of this talk. I am not one to waste talk when we can have sex. I will leave all this to your instructors in intermediate seduction. Here we will concern ourselves only with basics."
He glowered. "Tomorrow we will begin practical application."
Nickie gulped. Did he mean...?
The next morning the poster had been replaced with a couch. The professor brought in a plump, rosy-cheeked girl. Obviously she knew what kind of class it was. She was panting her mighty bosom heaving under her cotton blouse, the material was straining, the buttons about to burst.
The professor grimaced. "I have picked this girl on purpose," he said. "She repulses me. See-she is built like an ox. Her breasts are too heavy-like blocks of cement. And her fat legs have no suntan. Chances are when we undress her we will find she has varicose veins."
"But comrades, this is the sort of thing you must be prepared for. You must allow yourselves to be disconcerted by such discoveries. When you undress American women, for example, you will find that their stomachs are red from being all trussed up in their girdles."
"Girdles-humm-well, in Intermediate Seduction you will learn how best to remove them. It's beyond me."
Nickie glanced at the girl to see how she was taking the instructor's insults. To his surprise, she was grinning; her big thighs were rubbing together.
The instructor began by flicking his hand across one of her breasts. He let it move away, then, slowly, tantalizingly, he brought it back, pressed gently, then squeezed. The girl had followed his hand with her eyes. At his squeeze, she let out a little squeak.
He squeezed again, and again she squeaked.
He repeated the procedure with the other breast. He touched it lightly with his fingers, then let them wander away as if disinterested. Finally, he brought them back to wrap themselves around the breast and squeeze.
The procedure was even more titillating than the first time. Again the girl emitted a passionate squeak as he squeezed. One more squeeze produced a fourth squeak, just as if the instructor were squeezing the bulb of a horn.
The professor turned to his class and gave a little bow. Everyone applauded.
Nickie let out his breath. His lungs were almost bursting, but he hadn't realized until that moment that he had been holding his breath.
"You see, students," explained the professor, "if a woman has large breasts, they are always an excellent place to begia All women whose breasts are bigger than field peas are inordinately proud of that fact"
"She will be delighted that you find them so pleasureable, and even if she does not intend to let you make love to her, she will let you play with them. But her vanity will be her undoing. Or I might say, her unfastening."
"Because, while you are playing with them, your skill will produce such an ache between her legs that she will be unable to resist you when you move your hand down to relieve her symptoms. You will become expert at judging when these symptoms are at their peak."
He turned back to the girl and put one hand under the swell of her breast. With the other hand he worked his way inside her bodice, unfastening two of the buttons which had already strained half way out of their holes.
The instructor explained to the class that the heat of his hand on the underswell held her simmering with desire while he worked his hand inside.
Yes, he replied to a question, it was possible that she would have let him put his hand into her blouse anyway, but anything worth doing was worth doing right and there was a right way and a wrong way to make a woman.
Any man who did not do the deed scientifically was no more than an animal. It was science that made men higher than beasts. When science had progressed sufficiently there would be no more need for such an outmoded device as sex.
Imagine, he told them, the very fact you live at all depends on your mother's nipples having got all fidgety under your father's touch! The whole systern bordered on insanity. Soon the great government researchers would have it figured out Until then-well--
He gave his attention once more to the girl who had looked downcast during the lecture. She brightened as his hand wiggled inside her bra. It was easy to tell that her nipples must be all jittery. The professor gave her a little shove and she collapsed as he intended her to, on the couch, her knees bending under her easily like folding table legs. Now the instructor removed her blouse altogether. A gasp went up from the class as her enormous globes came into view. They were larger than anyone had guessed. The girl beamed. She appreciated the adulation she was receiving. The instructor's hand moved now to the clasp of her overburdened brassiere.
"Always do this yourself," he said. "It will show you to be a true master of love, since it is one thing that few men do correctly. You must not pop the breasts out without undoing the hooks. That would constrict her breathing."
"Neither should you fumble around with one hand as interesting as it may be to use the other one elsewhere. No, you must use both hands, one on either side of the hooks."
Nobody paid much attention to this informative bit of esoterica. Everyone was still looking at the breasts.
The girl stretched languorously.
The instructor was not impressed. She was altogether too fat. He was a little man and she made him feel insecure. He knew that soon he would have to insert himself in this female. She was so big. It would make him feel like Tom Sawyer lost in the cave.
Nonetheless he did not flag in his duty. He was a master lover and for years he had been training men to the service of country and of love-starved women as well. The day he failed to satisfy a woman he would be removed from his post and sent to Siberia.
Some days he almost thought it would be worth it to go.
He fitted his mouth expertly over one of the breasts. His hand was busy on the other one. Then, abruptly, he took off his clothes and stood up. The students were amused to see that the instructor's anatomy was unaroused.
"You see," he explained, "I told you she did not interest me. But I have complete control over my body. I do not need to depend on a freak of nature such as sexual attraction. Watch."
They watched in fascination. So did the girl. The professor stood stock still facing the class. A hush came over the room. Slowly, surely, the professor's anatomy began to change.
It rose as though it were a snake being charmed. Nickie almost expected to hear oriental music. A murmur ran through the room as the eerie performance ended with the professor in perfect lovemaking condition.
He sat down again beside the girl. His lips pressed against hers. While her eyes were closed in the kiss, his hand wandered to her thigh. It traveled up. The students saw her hips begin to twitch. Now her skirt was being unzipped. It seemed to float away from her to the floor. There were only her panties left.
It was a tense moment.
Slowly the professor pulled them down, yanking them by the material between the legs. Her little crater of a navel appeared, followed by the rest of her heavy gelatin stomach, and finally-at last, the be-curled moment of truth, the lower of the curls already wet with passion.
There they were-naked, both of them, the professor, despite his virile condition, still looking inconsequential and tiny beside this mammoth pile of pulchitrude. Was it possible that this little spindly-legged, mustached man could satisfy the girl as she had never been satisfied before? Or would she simply make mincemeat of him?
Poor little guy.
He spread her legs and pushed her back on the couch. The girl flung her arms about his neck and pulled him to her. He came, taking care to bite her stomach and breasts on the way.
They joined. The girl's legs rose and closed a-bout the professor's back, seeming to crush him in their embrace. In fact, one had to look hard to see the professor at all. But then the students were looking hard.
There wasn't much to see now, though. Just a sort of gentle heaving of bodies. The movements of the girl were cow-like, sluggish. Minutes ticked by. The bell rang for lunch, but the students stayed on. After all, they had not been dismissed by the professor.
Suddenly she gave forth a cry-a cry that every man in the world recognizes. Her stomach heaved upward and her legs unfastened at the same moment. The professor clutched her, timing his own release to hers. She heaved again and he tumbled by, sliding onto the floor.
The suspense was broken.
The class leaped from its chairs noisily. They surrounded the girl, some of them dipping hungrily into their lunch pails and beginning to munch on sandwiches. The girl still lay as if in a trance. She was thoroughly, completely, utterly satisfied. Her face wore an expression of bliss.
The professor picked himself up with befitting dignity and stepped into his polka dot shorts. "Are there any questions?" he asked. "Class dismissed then."
The days that followed were much worse. And looming always before the would-be spy was the prospect of the final exam. Nobody had told him exactly what it was to consist of, but he knew. Oh, he knew. And Nickie's love apparatus did not work well under pressure.
Nickie was worried.
His first class demonstration was less than a success. The girl was young, pretty and above all slender. Her breasts were small and firm, her hips wide, trim. The professor was starting his students off easy. This girl even wore a sexy low-cut dress. She had big green eyes and full, sensuous lips.
Nickie approached the problem in the manner he had been taught. He flicked his fingers over her breasts. He let his hand wander away and then back. He squeezed. There was no squeak, in fact no sound at all, but her eyes widened.
The instructor reassured the nervous Nickie.
It was all right. Some of them just reacted differently. So far, so good. Nickie was encouraged. He squeezed the other breast and got the same reaction, only this time accompanied by the slight parting of her full lips. Nickie's ego inflated. So did another part of him. By golly, he was doing wonderfully well.
He got his hand into her bodice and caressed the soft springy flesh inside. He felt her nipples tighten under his fingers. Her blouse came off. Next her bra, one hand on either side of the hooks, just as the professor had explained. The dainty globes toppled forward and he dropped the brassiere to catch them in his hands.
How delightful she was!
He kissed her breasts gently, sucking them to draw the tips out to their full length. Her hand went into his trousers and she sighed rapturously.
"Stop!" cried the professor. Nickie could scarcely hide his annoyance as the professor explained that the girl was breaking the rules. The pupil had to do the job all by himself. No cheating!
A sullen expression came to her face as she withdrew her hand from Nickie's trousers. Nickie moaned. Well, if she could not put her hand in his pants, he would put his in hers. He slid his hand down her smooth thigh and under her skirt.
What? She wore no panties!
Well, so much the better. He put his head under her skirt and began to kiss. It was nice, and it gave him a sort of privacy from the observing students.
After a while, he took off his pants. "Ah," said the students. They were all glad to see his condition. Surely he would pass the test.
Nickie took off her skirt as well. Her stomach was flat and soft, inviting. Her thighs were sleek. And she trembled with desire. He spread her willing legs and, having planted final kisses on the under-swells of her breasts, he plunged in. She thrust her pelvis upward to meet him.
The union was something of a shock.
She was altogether more than he had bargained for! Her interior was a foaming, boiling pool of lava. Nickie gasped. Several ecstatic moans escaped his lips. He churned frantically for a moment and then with a cry he rolled aside, his body heaving and shaking with the force of his release.
"Pig!" said the beautiful girl in disgust.
The instructor was angry. And he agreed with the girl. Nickie was nothing but an animal. Had he no control? No fortitude? Was he simply to be swept along by events? Great Lenin's mustache! A master lover must take command. He must be in command at every moment!
"How?" Nickie asked. He was blushing with humiliation.
"Simple. But of course, it takes practice. Skill. When you are close to explosion, you must think of something unpleasant. And the other way around of course. When you flag, you must think of something extremely pleasant. Apple pie, for instance.
"Now I will have to finish her myself," he added. "Your arousing her has spoiled her for any more demonstrations today."
But, gradually, Nickie learned. He even had a go with the plump, hugh-thighed girl. Though his grades still hovered at a gentleman's C, that was passing, and passing meant America instead of Siberia. Nickie never forgot that for a moment.
The course drew to a close, and everything depended on the final examination.
The morning of the examination, Nickie sat on a wooden bench outside the examination room. With him sat the other members of the class, all of them passing around a bottle of vodka which they mixed with cod liver oil in paper cups.
One of the group had asserted that the combination was a fine aphrodisiac, and nobody felt sure enough of his prowess to pass it up. It tasted awful. Nickie's stomach began to roll.
The first several students went in one at a time and came out smiling with relief. Those waiting heard nothing but a few moans, the sound of a chair overturning, one long drawn out scream of ecstasy.
After the scream the waiting students looked curiously at the man who came out. He was a man who would go far in the Soviet regime. He surely had made an A.
The instructor called the student next to Nickie. "Well, wish me luck, comrade," the man said to Nickie as he got up. He disappeared into the room. Nickie had another drink of vodka. This time he drank it without the cod liver oil.
He listened intently. There were no sighs. The student came out looking horror struck. He was marched outside. There was a sharp noise.
Just a car backfiring, Nickie assured himself. It couldn't have been a rifle shot.
"Nicolas Alexi Mravinsky?" The instructor was calling his name. Nickie's knees trembled as he went into the room. Fate was not entirely against him, he saw with relief. He had drawn the slender girl with the dainty breasts and the big green eyes.
"Standing up, comrade," said the instructor, indicating the manner in which Nickie and Green Eyes were to make it.
Green eyes giggled. Nickie gulped. His hand shook as he brought his fingers against her breast She sighed. "Once more into the britches," she murmured, proving that she was a very well educated girl and could more or less quote Shakespeare.
Nickie shushed her by placing his lips over hers and tickling the roof of her mouth with his tongue. He did not want any coaching, being afraid that the professor might think that was cheating, too. And of course, he knew her comment was irrelevant. She did not wear panties.
His hand delved into her bodice. "Oh!" she said. He knew it was not passion that prompted this outburst, but the shock of his hand, icy with fear, on her hot, tender nipples.
He thrust his fingers into her cleavage to warm them. Slowly she began to respond. He felt her heartbeat increase below her fluttering breast. Nickie yanked away her blouse. The lovely breasts bobbed up at him, happily encased in a little low-cut bra.
Oh, how exquisite they were! Two warm mounds of cream lying half tucked into their little beds of lace. Nickie was sorely tempted to pluck them out and sink his teeth into them.
He half-lifted one. It glistened up at him, and the nipple enlarged before his very eyes! But he forced himself to remember his instructions. Never pop them out; always unfasten the bra.
His hands sped quickly to her back. The unhooking movement was superb, so smooth and rapid that the girl looked surprised as she saw the garment fall from her. The professor was making marks on the evaluation sheet. Brownie points for old Nickie.
Filled with glee, Nickie unzipped his pants. "Oh!" said Green Eyes again and this time it was not because of his cold hands but because of the enormity that poked its way eagerly from his fly before he could even strip off his pants.
Nickie pressed her to him, feeling her belly tremble against his manhood as he divested her of her short skirt. They were altogether naked now. Green Eyes was panting with eagerness, and Nickie's manhood was all a quiver. All the same, Nickie was stalling for time. He had spent all night memorizing his lecture notes. Everything he needed to know-positions, techniques, procedure.
But somehow he could not quite remember the correct way to do it standing up.
He tried to fit his equipment under her, but she wasn't tall enough to give him good leverage. The touch of his passion against the flesh of her soft cup drove her into a frenzy of feverish activity.
She rose on tip-toe, her hands clutching for his manhood, squeezing it to the point of pain as she tried to shove it into her depths. But the fire hose was too short to reach the fire. She groaned, a look of desperation came to her eyes, and she writhed a-gainst Nickie.
The instructor frowned.
Nickie took a hand off her breast and grabbed for his manhood. If he were ever going to proceed scientifically, he would have to get it away from her. Green Eyes moaned and looked fierce. She did not want to let go.
There was a short tug of war, which Nickie won, though he felt a bit stretched out of shape at the finish. Oh well, a little extra length never hurt in a case like this, he thought. Once inside her he would be sure to be able to penetrate the full length of her channel and press himself against its rear wall.
The professor had taught him that there was nothing more sexually disturbing to a woman than the feel of a man thudding against the end of her love tunnel.
At last Nickie remember what to do. He ran his fingers over one of her throbbing thighs. He raised it, encouraging her to wrap her leg around one of his. Ah! Perfect! With trepidation, he entered the storm that raged inside her burning body.
It was even hotter than he remembered! He shoved and churned tempestuously, struggling to cause her to spill forth her pent up ecstasy before he suffered the disgrace of premature climax he had suffered during his class demonstration with her.
He felt himself on the point of explosion! He thought of unpleasant things. He thought of the smell of sour cabbage. He thought of getting shot.
"Oh! Oh! Oh!" Nickie felt her insides convulsing. Her back arched stiffly and her mouth flew open. He gave one last lunge and let his own excitement erupt into bliss. He released Green Eyes and allowed her to sink to the floor in her delirium.
Nickie himself remained standing, quivering only a little. His gasping subsided and he began to breathe easily once more. Proudly he stood before the vanquished girl as the full import of the situation washed over him.
He was in control! He had passed the course! He would not be sent to Siberia! And last but not least, he was a master lover. A certified, stamped and approved Soviet master lover!
On to America!
CHAPTER SIX
SEX AFLOAT....
Some months later a submarine surfaced briefly in the dead of night, outside the three-mile limit off Miami Beach. On its deck a man fastened his rubber suit over a midnight blue tuxedo jacket.
"You are sure of all your instructions, Nicolas?" someone said.
Nickie nodded. He was a fully trained spy. Trained in the arts of killing, seduction, sabotage. To Nickie's training one extra element had been added-psychology. He had come armed with psychological tests which he was to put to as many Americans as possible. These tests were to determine what made Americans tick, and from this Nickie would decided what it was that his propaganda lacked. Such a test was the one he was soon to give to Honey in the penthouse of the Tropic Sands.
Nickie gazed into the moonlit water. He had learned his lessons well; he had been a star pupil. But basically he was the same old Nickie. He was scared.
"The cruise boat will come by here soon," said the man next to him. "It passes this way each night on its return trip from Freeport on Grand Bahama Island. You will get into the water and wait for it. When it comes you will board it, and so you will be able to enter the United States without question as just another passenger. There is no passport needed."
"I understand," said Nickie.
"Good luck, comrade."
Nickie dived and swam away. The submarine submerged, and he was alone. Nervously Nickie waited. Before long the gay lights of the cruise boat appeared on the horizon. It came closer, and he began to hear shouts of laughter from the deck. He swam alongside and, spotting an open porthole, he threw up a hook attached to a rope. It caught and he climbed up.
He peered into the stateroom. It was empty. Gratefully Nickie pulled himself inside and began to strip off his rubber suit. There was a giggle outside the door.
"Stop that Angus, you naughty boy!" a feminine voice said. Nickie dived under the bed, dragging his rubber suit after him. The door opened. From his vantage point the spy could see the feet of a man and a woman as they entered.
"Shh!" said the girl. "You know I'm not supposed to invite you here. I'm only supposed to deal at the blackjack table. I'm not supposed to fraternize-"
"I'll make it worth your while," he giggled. "Oh you adorable old thing, you! I don't expect money."
"I didn't mean money." And his pants hit the floor.
"Oh my goodness," the girl cooed. "Just look at you, Angus! You're enough to scare the wits out of a poor little ol' girl like me."
Nickie crept closer to the edge of the bed and peered upward. He got a good upside-down view of the object of the girl's admiration. Personally, he didn't see that it was worthy of all that exclamation. It seemed to be of only a rather medium length and that was obscured by Angus' huge stomach which swelled over it. The more the girl oh'd and ah'd, the more Angus' chest swelled; and since his chest and stomach were part of the same slope, the smaller the object of his pride appeared.
"Heh, heh," said the white-haired Angus, and he lifted one of the girl's large breasts out of the strapless bodice of her brief, glittery outfit. "You are sure you have them, aren't you, Mary Lou?" he said, rolling the breast between his palms.
"Of course I am," said the girl. "You want them now? You don't want to play around a little first?"
"No-please, Mary Lou!" the voice became plaintive. "You promised. Please, please! I need it!"
"Oh very well. Here they are, see?" She opened a drawer and took out something to show him. Nickie could not see what it was.
"Ah!" said Angus. "Perfect! Perfect!"
"Do you have the chips?" Mary Lou said.
"Yes. Right here."
"Good. In you go, then. Hop into bed." Angus hopped, and the mattress sank so that for a moment Nickie thought it was going to fall and crush him beneath it. There was a second movement of the bed as Mary Lou climbed onto it
"I just know you're going to find this fun," said Angus.
"Well, I have to admit I have my doubts. Listen, are you sure there isn't something else you'd rather do?"
"Positive."
"Well, then, what're the stakes?"
"The stakes! Oh, that's funny! Oh, heh, heh! The stakes!"
Mary Lou giggled. "How about fifty bucks a shot?" she suggested.
"Fine," said Angus. "Fire away!" The bed squeaked. "Oh, heh, heh!" said Angus.
"Fifty for me!" cried Mary Lou gleefully.
"Again! Again!" Angus chortled.
"Well, all right, but I still say it's a funny way to get your kicks." The bed squeaked again. "Whee, another fifty! Say, you know, this is fun!"
"Again!" cried Angus. The bed squeaked.
"Oh rats, I missed!" Mary Lou said Something had hit the floor. A black lace garter. A slender hand reached down to retrieve it.
Nickie thought rapidly. He did not want to stay under the bed until the boat docked. He wanted to be upstairs in the gambling saloon where the crowd was. Where there would be no risk of looking suspicious. He seized her hand and kissed as he had been taught at spy school. He kissed the inside of her wrist, which he had learned was an unusually sensitive part of female anatomy. He pressed hard so that he could feel her pulse with his lips. He felt it quicken. She withdrew her hand.
"Angus, darling," she chirped. "I know another game that's even more fun. It's called blind man's buff."
"Buff! Oh, heh, heh, heh! Buff! How do we play?"
"Well, I'll tie this black nightie around your eyes and then you try to catch me. But you have to catch me by my right boobie or you lose."
"All right, but now that you've blindfolded me, finish with the garters first, won't you?"
"Very well." Mary Lou's hand searched under the bed until she found a part of Nickie's coat. She yanked, and Nickie took the hint He crawled out She was sitting crosslegged and quite naked on one end of the bed. On the other end sat Angus with three black garters draped over his manhood. Mary Lou pursed her lips at Nickie for a kiss and tossed again. It was the most unusual game of horseshoes Nickie had ever seen. Silently he put his lips to hers, thrusting gently with his tongue.
Her bosom heaved, and she met his tongue with her own. She jumped up and ran to the other side of the room. "Catch me, Angus!" she cried. The man stumbled forward eagerly with a silly smile on his face. Garter and poker chips tumbled to the floor.
Mary Lou darted back to Nickie. "Wait a minute," she whispered, starting to rifle Angus' pants. "Seven hundred," she announced. "I'll take five."
"Why not take it all?" Nickie hissed.
"Look," Mary Lou said impatiently, "I work the same spot every night. I don't want complaints to the management. This way he'll think he lost it. Nobody steals half of somebody's money."
Nickie was about to point out that she was taking more than half, but she wound herself about him, wiggling her hips urgently. "I get so bored," she pleaded. "I'm so tired of rich old men." She unbuttoned his jacket and even through his shirt, Nickie could feel the fire of her burning breasts.
"There's no time to lose," she whispered urgently. "I'm in need. Terrible need! Listen. I haven't had an orgasm for ages! It's been nearly two whole days!"
Nickie was not the man to resist such a heartrending plea. He allowed her to unzip his pants.
"No! No!" she said as he started to unbelt them and let them fall. She reached inside and extracted the necessary equipment, stroking it admiringly with her cool hand. "My, my!" she said. "Oh my!"
Nickie was pleased. In spy school none of the girls had seemed to think there was anything particularly outstanding about his anatomy. Under her touch it grew to even more magnificent proportions.
Since there were no clothes to take off, Nickie proceeded at once to basics. He ran his hand down her thigh and lifted her leg. So skillful was he that Mary Lou was scarcely aware that her body reacted to his maneuver. Her leg, as though drawn by an irresistible magnet, rose and wrapped itself vine-like about his thigh.
"My goodness!" said Mary Lou. "This is neat. Gee, wherever did you learn a trick like that?"
"I'm a graduate of love school," he told her truthfully, as he penetrated her with one smooth lunge. He knew she wouldn't believe him. Nobody would ever believe him.
"You're cute," she giggled. "Gee whiz, I'd like to see what it says on your diploma! Oh, gee whiz! Gee whiz! Geee whizzz!"
Mary Lou was apparently almost overcome by Nickie's up and down rhythmic thrusts. She kept saying gee as he shoved upward and on the down pull she said whiz, letting her breath as if she simply could not believe that she was feeling what she felt.
Her other leg kept trying to wrap around him also, and he had to keep pushing it away so that she would not pull them both off balance. One of her large breasts was in his mouth, but the insatiable Mary Lou kept trying to insert the other as well.
She was frantic with passion. By golly, she was going to choke him! He imagined he felt the tip of her bosom pounding inside his throat, pressing against his Adam's apple. He wished she would stop saying "Gee whiz." It was an outdated expression. He had learned it was outdated in his spy school English class.
Meanwhile, Angus, on the other side of the cabin, had embraced a lamp, a chair and an end table in search of a right boobie. Through their fog of delight his soft, "heh, heh," drifted to the ears of Mary Lou and Nickie.
At the moment he was crawling under a desk, still in pursuit of the ever-elusive rght boobie.
"Heh, heh! Mary Lou! I do believe you're fooling me! You aren't over here at all. Heh, heh!"
"Look out!" Mary Lou hissed breaking their embrace. Angus was charging toward them.
"Heh, heh! I've got you!" he cried. But his gaiety vanished quickly. The chest he had hold of did not seem to have a right boobie. Or a left one. Or any boobies at all. He ripped off his blindfold.
"Who the hell are you?" he bellowed, and then caught sight of a wad of bills in Mary Lou's hand. Desperately the girl seemed to be looking for a pocket to hide them in on her nude body.
"Thief! Thief!" Mary Lou seconded at the top of her lungs. She began to pound Nickie over the head with her fist. "It was him! He made me do it! He threatened me!"
Nickie fled to sanctuary beneath the bed. I'll sound the alarm!" Angus cried. He reached for a chain over the door. Bells started to ring.
"Zip up your pants!" Mary Lou yelled and went under the bed after Nickie. The spy was struggling into his rubber suit. "Gee," said Mary Lou, seeing his gear. "What are you anyhow? Some kind of a second story man too cheap to even pay for your ticket?"
"You don't really think I'm a thief?" Nickie said.
"I don't know. I can't think of any other reason you'd be stashed away under the bed like this. Anyway, if you are, just remember. This is my territory. I work it solo. Don't come back unless you want trouble. Understand?"
"And there's one other thing. You didn't finish me. I told you how badly I needed it, too!"
"You called me a thief!" Nickie protested. "Ifs against my principles to finish girls who call me thief."
"Is it?" said Mary Lou. She had a good hold on him, her naked body sprawled across him. She was unzipping the zipper she'd foolishy told him to do up. "The ship's detective will be here in a minute, and I'm not going to let you up until you finish me!"
Nickie shrugged. He could not argue with necessity. And necessity demanded that he get Mary Lou off his stomach. There was only one way to do that. Nickie scooted down and put his lips to the wet sweetness between her legs.
"Oh!" said Mary Lou. "Gee whiz!" Her rear began to rotate violently; her entire being went wild with the sensation. Her head jerked upward in her passion and smashed into a bed slat. She crumpled.
Mary Lou did not churn any more. She did not say gee whiz. She simply lay there unconscious and Nickie felt only a little sorry for her. It was really a shame for anyone in such desperate need to be knocked out at such a peak of agitation, but then, she had called him a thief.
And he wasn't a thief, only a simple spy.
He scrambled out and made for the porthole.
He tossed out the rope and slid down, hitting the water with a splash. Angus' face appeared at the window.
"Stop thief!" he screeched.
Nickie arranged his breathing apparatus and submerged. When he rose to the surface the boat was gone and he was alone in the ocean once more.
He shivered. Already his mission was going awry. He was not landing in the U.S.A. as he was supposed to. And what was that his instructor had told him over and over during his seduction course? Never would a woman leave his arms unsatisfied. Already one had. Whew!
A strange thing was happening to Nickie. For the first time in his life a slight shadow of doubt crept into his belief in the infallibility of the powerful Soviet regime. Far away across the water he could see the lights of Miami Beach.
America!
Nickie started to swim. Before long he would come up from the water onto the moonlit sand. And he would meet the loving arms of Edith Erlene, alias Honey, Milch.
CHAPTER SEVEN
BARE EROTIC TRIANGLE....
In the big bed in the Tropic Sands penthouse Nickie's dream had become confused. He had been dreaming about his meeting with Honey, and then suddenly he thought himself back in Moscow.
Once more the secret police were pounding on the door of his apartment. He pulled a pillow over his head. The pounding got louder. "Open up!" demanded an angry voice.
"Nickie! Nickie!" Honey was shaking him urgently. 'Wake up!"
"Uh?" said the spy sleepily.
"You've got to get out of here. Ifs Bruce-my boyfriend! He gets terribly jealous!"
I'll tell him you're not here," Nickie suggested. "I never even heard of you."
"No, no!" Honey said. "I'm sure he knows I'm here. You don't know Bruce. You just answer the door and before you can say one word, he'll beat you to a pulp. There's just one chance."
"What's that?"
"The balcony. Bruce will search the whole place, but if you get outside and hang by your hands from the balcony, he won't find you."
"But-" said Nickie.
"No time to argue," Honey said pushing him outside.
"Wait, Honey! I'm naked! Throw me some clothes!"
Nickie's pants sailed across the balcony, went over the rail and disappeared into the dark. He gulped and swayed, tightening his. grip. Suddenly his attention was commanded by what was happening inside the suite.
Honey, clad only in her bathing suit top, had admitted a muscled surfer type with sun-bleached hair. As Bruce paced suspiciously around the apartment, it was obvious that murder was in his heart.
"Honest, Bruce," Honey pleaded. "I was just spending the night with a girl friend."
"Don't give me that," Bruce sputtered, eying her bare erotic triangle. "Why's the closet full of men's suits then?"
"Ah, gee, Bruce, how should I know? It's not my apartment." She was rubbing herself against him.
Oh no, thought Nickie. She wasn't going to-surely she wasn't going to!
Bruce had forgotten himself so far as to stroke the tip of Honey's breast "Your girl friend's gone for a while, huh?" he said.
"Yes. There's this place she-urn-hangs out at"
"Maybe I'll just stick around then and see if she really is a girl," Bruce decided. How about you and me riding a real smoker tonight?"
"Well," said Honey, "if you ask me right." She removed her bikini top. Bruce's lips fell to the erect nipple. His hand went up her thigh until it connected with a quivering pink target.
"Oh boy," Honey sighed. "You sure do ask right!"
Nickie groaned as he saw the pair scurry into the bedroom. She was going to! She really was! And him hanging out here with cramps in his fingers!
Nickie saw Honey climb into the bed. Bruce hopped in beside her, stripping his T-shirt off over his head. Honey made for his swim suit. But the laces of the surfer style garment gave her problems. She pulled the ties into a hopeless knot.
Bruce's desire seemed to leave him as he viewed the ruins of his suit. It had cost him plenty and he was proud of it. Honey, however, had less sentimental attachment for the garment than for what was inside.
She took the same knife Nickie had used earlier to cut her out of her suit and snipped Bruce's laces. On the balcony Nickie observed to himself that a knife was a handy thing to keep in one's bedside table. Who would have thought it!
Bruce was unceremoniously yanked out of his bathing suit, and Nickie watched with interest as Honey began to tickle her boyfriend into the desired state. Unhappily, the tickling was more effective on Nickie than it was on Bruce.
Nickie groaned. Honey continued to tickle Bruce. At last she achieved the desired effect and threw herself onto her back, waiting for his kisses on her breasts and on her quivering little stomach. She spread her legs.
But Bruce had other ideas. He tried to roll her over. Apparently he wanted to attack from another angle'. Honey fought. She pushed him off and rolled onto her back again. She pointed meaningfully between her legs.
Obviously she wanted it and she wanted it now. She wanted it sweet and simple in the old tried and true way. She pulled his head down and pressed her rosy breast into his mouth to remind him how good it could taste.
Bruce took the bait, nipple and all.
Honey's legs stretched apart. He sank onto her stomach thrusting upward between them. Honey twisted and writhed beneath him. Her feet rose to his shoulders so that she was almost standing on her head.
Nickie could see her toes twitching with the delicious agony of copulation. He remembered that her toes had been active during his own session with her. They had practically dug holes into the mattress. It must be a thing with her, he decided.
He watched the toes intently, a tightness growing in his throat. Oh, how he wished he were in there instead of Bruce. And he should be too, he thought indignantly.
After all, it was his bed!
"You're never going to get your pants back, you know," said a feminine voice.
Nickie looked down. On the balcony below a sultry looking female was leaning on the railing, smoking a cigarette. An orange negligee set off her dark hair and eyes and brought out the peach tones of the bosomy mounds that peeked from it
"They landed on the awning," she continued. "But then, you'd have had a hard time putting them on anyway in that position."
"Yes," Nickie agreed.
She sighed. "It's really a lovely night. I just had to come outside. I do think it's depressing to be inside on a night like this, don't you?"
"Well-"
"I know what you mean," she said. "It a person has someone to make love with it makes all the difference. Just look at that moon, would you? A lover's moon if I ever saw one."
"May I drop down?" asked Nickie. His fingers were slipping.
"Oh, aren't you sweet! I'd like to ask you, but it's Sam-my husband, you know."
"Oh," said Nickie.
"Sam would simply have a fit if he found a naked man on the balcony with me. It's because of his condition."
"Condition?"
"Yes. He says it's all my fault. That he can't put out, you know. He says I'm not enough inspiration. Say-could you do me a favor?"
"Oh certainly," said Nickie.
"I wonder if you'd give me your opinion on the matter." She shrugged off the negligee. Huge nipples leaped forward, tensing and tilting upward. The roseates were scarlet and wide as a technicolor sunset. The flanks were twin Mt. Rainiers seen on a clear day. In short it was the most inspiring view the spy had ever seen, and it was one for which his training had not quite prepared him.
"Aaaagggh!" cried Nickie as he slid away from the balcony and catapulted past the object of his admiration. Well, at any rate, he'd never have to worry about Siberia any more or the Executive Action Division. At the moment Nickie counted himself more dead than red. Nothing could have him now.
Splash! Suddenly Nickie's descent was through water instead of air. His toes scraped the bottom of the deep end of the swimming pool. He started to rise. Nickie could not understand it. He'd thought dead bodies took days to rise.
He broke surface and took in a deep lungful of air. Actually, he wasn't too pleased at finding himself alive. The Executive Division would surely eliminate him if he didn't manage to get back to his suite without getting into trouble, and Nickie failed to see how he could avoid getting into trouble, seeing as how he was stark naked.
A headlong dash sent him to relative security behind a banana tree near an entrance marked "Employees Only." Plucking a leaf from the tree, Nickie covered his crucial area and ran inside. A freight elevator was standing open. Nickie pushed the button marked penthouse and climbed into an empty laundry cart.
Thirty floors! Could he make it?
He would or literally die trying.
The elevator went up to M for mezzanine. The door opened and two maids rolled the cart out and into a room.
"We're alone," sighed one of the maids as the door of the room closed.
"Well, don't try anything! Just don't try anything, I'm warning you! If you do, I'll get myself transferred to the dining room!"
"Oh, you're such a prude," replied the first maid. "I don't know why I love you, but I do. Come on, give me a little!"
"Oh!" cried the other. "Stop! I know what's the matter with you! You've been reading inspirational literature again with Lady Willingham!"
"Yes, and am I ever inspired!"
"Stop! Stop!"
Nickie heard the creak of bedsprings. He peeked out from under the lid. On the bed were two luscious girls, one a brunette, the other a redhead. The brunette was on top with the redhead spraddle-legged under her.
The redhead's uniform was unzipped and her breasts had been popped out of her peach-colored brassiere. She had jutting, cone shaped breasts, each adorned with flaming red roseates to match her fiery hair and big nipples so red they were almost black.
Beneath that Nickie could see the flesh of her round, slightly plump stomach and a bit of flimsy material below her navel that was the beginning of her bikini panties.
The other girl seemed equally well endowed though it was harder to tell. Her uniform was still intact; perhaps she had been too busy to unfasten it. Certainly she was very busy.
She was turning one of the exposed breasts in her mouth while her hand worked its way down the redhead's smooth stomach. The redhead had stopped saying stop. She was groaning now. Her lover's hand passed her navel and entered the panties. The redhead cried out and lurched upward
"Shh!" said the brunette. She stopped the out-crys with a kiss.
The redhead's legs flew up in passion and as the brunette moved her head down the girl's body for a more intimate kiss, the redhead's knee caught her under the jaw.
"Oooh!" said the brunette, grimacing with pain at the sudden jolt "You've chipped my tooth again, blast you! It's the third time you've done it! It'll cost me my overtime pay this month to get it re-capped." Tears filled her lovely dark eyes.
The redhead got teary also. In a moment they were both bawling and hugging each other like a pair of innocent sisters. The sobbing made their four formidable breasts jiggle mightily.
Nickie was confused. He thought it was an inordinate amount of crying over one chipped tooth. Quickly the mystery was cleared up.
"Oh, I'm so her up!" cried the redhead.
"Me too. My boobies are about to burn holes right through my dress," sobbed the brunette.
"And you're not the one I really want to make love to," the redhead sniffled.
"You're not what I'm really hot for either," said the brunette.
"Ooooh!" and they went off on another crying jag.
"Oh, if only we had a man!" the redhead shrieked at last.
"Yes! A man!" agreed the brunette. "This working the night shift is doing terrible things to our love life. If I had a man I'd let him do anything he wanted to with me!"
"Think of it!" said the redhead, "a man with a big, red, firm thingamajig just standing up all a-quiver ready to just plunge right into you and practically split you in two! Think how it would be when he got to going! In and out, in and out-umm!" She spoke with the tone of a person on a diet describing a double strawberry flip.
"I'd let him do anything!" repeated the brunette with a sigh. "I'd let him put his big fancy manhood in my mouth if he'd like to! He could even have me in the cow posture if he liked."
"If I had a man, I'd give him something better than the cow posture," said the redhead contemptuously. "A woman can't get any leverage that way. Personally, if I had a man I'd sit on his lap and he could just relax and not have to exert himself at all. I would just push his big spike up inside me and churn and churn until that man felt so good he'd think he'd reached the pearly gates!"
"This is all beside the point," said the brunette. "We haven't got a man."
"No," said the redhead. "I guess we might as well go on and clean up this room. Boy, when I do get my hands on a man though, I'll really get my hands on him. All over him! There isn't an erotic thing ever been dreamed of that I won't do to that man!"
"Me too!" said the brunette. They began to strip the sheets off the bed.
Inside the cart Nickie trembled. It was only a matter of minutes-maybe seconds before these two love-starved females got their hands on him!
The brunette wandered into the adjoining room and Nickie heard the sound of a motor. She was vacuuming the floor. If only the other girl would leave for a moment he could escape. But the redhead didn't leave. She approached the cart with an armload of dirty sheets and pushed back the lid."
"Eeek!" she said, her exclamation of surprise changing almost at once to a gasp of delight. He was a man! Not only that but he was a naked man! Quickly, she slipped over and closed the door between the two bedrooms.
She intended to have him all to herself.
Frantically, Nickie tried to debark from the laundry cart with the result that it overturned, spilling him onto the floor. Nothing could have suited the redhead better. With a quick leap she was atop him, sitting astride his hips.
Feverishly her hand moved aside the cloth of her bikini panties and she massaged Nickie with her womanhood, having first tossed away the banana leaf to which he still desperately clung.
A big, blackish nipple was forced into his mouth. Her hand pressed his hand to her other breast. What was that his instructor had always said? A master lover is always in control! Somehow Nickie must regain control.
With a herculean effort Nickie rolled the girl onto her back. He pinned her shoulders to the floor and leered at her fiercely. The girl looked a bit frightened as she gazed into Nickie's face. All the same she kept shoving her pelvis upward against him.
"Be quiet like a good girl and I'll rape you," Nickie offered.
She nodded, awe-struck at the sight of Nickie's anatomy, which was slowly, titillatingly blossoming into full glory. Expertly he covered her mouth with his hand to forestall the scream of bliss which he knew she would soon emit. He spread her legs and pushed them up so high that her ankles touched the flesh of her round rear.
Nickie could still visualize the diagram in his textbook under the heading of Rape-horizontal, simple. It would be a real treat to this girl and it was designed to dispatch the woman quickly.
The textbook had explained that the technique was most useful when a spy found it necessary to escape from an over-enthustiastic female. Nickie found it necessary to escape from two over-enthusiastic females. Her friend-the one who wanted to do it in the cow position-might return any moment.
The girl's eyes widened with disbelief as he plunged in. He was so big he seemed to be exploring every tiny nook and cranny of her interior all at the same time. She writhed helplessly trying to free herself from a feeling that was different from anything she had ever felt in her entire life, a feeling that seemed more than her delicate body could bear! Nickie felt her tension growing under him. He was sweating with his effort. Just a second more! A second more!
The motor stopped in the next room. The door opened. Nickie leaped to his feet. What should he do? Really he didn't have time to consider. He did the natural thing. He jumped back into the cart. The brunette came in.
"What on earth are you doing on the floor like that?" she said to the redhead, who still lay with her feet propped against her rear and her big breasts pointing ceilingward.
The redhead's mouth opened and closed. She was unable to speak. The brunette shrugged. She thought that it was an odd place and an odd position to take a nap on company time. But she also thought it was none of her business. Her mother had often told her that truth was stranger than fiction.
"Well," she said, "if you're all through with the laundry cart, I'll take it now."
The redhead gave a feeble moan of protest.
Nickie cursed himself as she wheeled him through the door. If only he had had the sense to hide in the closet-under the bed-anywhere but in the cart. He clenched his teeth. Mentally he prayed for the spirit of Lenin to aid him. Another one! He was going to have to dispatch still another one!
It wasn't that Nickie had anything against love-making; quite the contrary. But the approaching attraction would make four in one night. Nickie was getting a little fatigued. He was even getting just the slightest bit bored. Would he never get back to his room?
Humming to herself, the brunette pushed back the lid of the cart. Nickie stepped out masterfully, which was not an easy thing to do. However, he took care to brace himself and he did not make the mistake he had made with the redhead. Falling on the floor had given her the upper hand you might say.
The brunette did not lose her head at the sight of him as the redhead had done. She simply took a deep breath which swelled the front of her already amply-filled bodice. She said, "Oh, my goodness," softly and unzipped her uniform.
Nickie folded his arms across his chest and waited. Why should he help her undress? She was going to do the job by herself obviously. The brunette shoved a chair under him and urged him to sit down. He did so. He asked if he might smoke and took a cigarette from a package left by the room's former occupants.
The dress dropped to the floor. Quickly her bra followed the dress and she pointed her nipples at him, cupping her breasts in her hands. Nickie nodded to show that he understood. Next she dropped her half-slip exposing her strong looking thighs.
Her skin was a beautiful olive color. On her breasts the color made a striking combination with her deep red roseates and nipples. She dropped her panties and looked at him expectantly.
Nickie groaned and stood up. Immediately she climbed onto the bed and dropped onto all fours, her rear waving up at him. It was the cow position.
"I bet not many girls let you do it like this!" she enthused.
Nickie grunted. He felt like telling her she was just lazy. "Actually," he told her, "sex is not at its best unless the two partners, or occasionally more, work together to achieve the desired effect. I would appreciate it if you'd think about that and choose another position. You know, something where you could hold up your end."
The girl looked puzzled. "But I am holding up my end!" she objected. And for emphasis she thrust it still higher into the air.
Nickie shrugged; perhaps he should have studied his English lessons harder. He snuffed out his cigarette and approached her. He stretched her legs apart a bit and stood back to study the results. She watched him through her legs. Yes, Nickie thought, that was about right for the cow position. He got onto the bed and mounted her as if she had been a horse.
One easy thrust secured entry into her love channel. She was already aflame with excitement, her pink womanhood wet and quivering. Reaching beneath him, Nickie grabbed one of her breasts in each hand and clung to them, caressing them and squeezing them as he proceeded with the love action.
She groaned and Nickie saw shudders run over her nude body. He felt her twitch under him.
It was the only motion of which she was capable. The cow position held her rigid. Nickie sighed with relief. He thought he could feel her climax coming.
But it was not her climax that came. It was the redhead from next door.
"Quick! Back into the cart!" the brunette was saying. She was no longer in the cow position. She was dragging Nickie across the floor. "If she sees you I'll have to share and I don't want to share! Get in! Hurry!"
"But," said Nickie. He wanted to tell her to let him hide in the closet-anywhere but the cart. As the lid was pushed back over it, he" thought he knew what was coming. He dreaded it. Oh, how he dreaded it!
The redhead seemed to find nothing strange in the nudity of the other girl. In fact, she simply ignored it. She was still a bit dazed from rape horizontal simple, but she knew what she was doing.
"I've come for the cart," she said. 'There's something I forgot to put in me-uh-in it"
"Well, hurry up with it then," said the brunette resignedly. "I'm not finished with it myself."
The cart wheels bounced over the carpet as the redhead practically galloped back into the other room. The door between the two bedrooms slammed ..hut. This time she wasn't in the mood for rape horizontal simple. She dealt the cart a blow that turned it over, and as Nickie spilled out she pounced with a glad cry.
Once more he found himself pinned under her. This time his efforts to unseat her were futile, especially since she had made her position more secure this time. She had impaled herself on his half-wilted maleness. Inside the redhead's warm body, Nickie's passion flowered once more, but this time it was he who lay writhing with an emotion almost greater than he could bear.
The redhead was doing all the work. Up she went, down she came, like a fireman sliding down a pole. Up and down, up and down.
Nickie's hips churned feverishly. There was nothing else he could do except to marvel at her tremendous vitality and equally tremendous skill. In a moment, he plucked at her breast where it wobbled wildly before his nose.
"Listen," he said. I'm going to-" The imminent ecstasy that suffused his features told her the rest. There was one more gigantic shove and the two of them went off together, their bodies heaving with the vehemence of their release.
"Get up," Nickie said after a while.
"No," she replied.
"Why not?"
"Because I always like it in two's. One trip like that only makes me want another."
"Oh," said Nickie unhappily. "You mean you're going to sit there until I muster it again?"
"Exactly. Do you want to smoke?"
"Thank you," said Nickie. The redhead located a package of cigarettes in her uniform. She lighted one for herself and one for Nickie.
"These are the new seven minute cigarettes," she said. "So you needn't rush. The extra time will give you plenty of time to muster it."
Nickie expressed his gratitude for the extra time. He inhaled deeply on the cigarette, making its tip glow bright red. He knew what he had to do. He hated to do it. He hoped it would not leave a scar.
He took the cigarette away from his mouth and pressed the tip of it against the flank of her naked breast
"Eeee!" she cried and jumped up in a panic. Nickie was on his feet in a second, wrapping himself in a dirty sheet. He would make a dash for the freight elevator. Maybe this time he would make it.
But the girl had recovered from her fright and had him around the shoulders. In horror he heard the door open. The redhead righted the cart and dumped him inside. Blast it, thought Nickie. Why did both of them insist on putting him in the cart.
"You certainly must be finished with the laundry cart by now," said the brunette, coming in. "I think I've waited a decent length of time for it." She had put her clothes back on, Nickie saw as he peeked from under the cart lid. Why had she done that if she wanted to make love again?
The reason was apparent in her next statement. "You're all through cleaning here, so I'll just take the cart down to the basement on my way out. Save you the trouble." She wheeled the cart into the hall. The redhead zipped up her uniform and rushed after them.
"I'll take the cart," she said. "I'll take it. No bother."
"Let go. I want it!"
"Let me have it, damn it!" They were fighting over it now, and Nickie was getting a battering as they struggled. He was getting seasick. Suddenly the cart was moving, gaining momentum rapidly.
"Oh!" shrieked one of the maids. "Stop it! Do something!" Nobody did anything, apparently because Nickie kept going faster and faster. He was on a ramp that led down to the plush lobby.
Nickie hazarded a peek. By golly, he hoped he wasn't going to wind up in the fountain! He wished the thing had steering. The lobby filled with screams as Nickie plummeted through it. He hit something. A sofa? A potted palm?
Naturally not. It was a girl.
The impact lifted her and dropped her onto the lid of the cart. It gave and she descended onto Nickie. Her howls nearly split his eardrums. All at once Nickie felt warm air. The cart had navigated down through the revolving door of the lobby and onto the outside ramp that led to the street.
In the street the momentum of the cart kept it going. At last it careened into an alley and smashed into a collection of garbage cans. The girl sat up and tried to smooth out her dress.
"Well, I never!" she exclaimed. "I thought there was something funny about you. You're naked! You're altogether naked!"
"Yes," Nickie admitted simply. "Ifs a lovely night, don't you think?" She was a beautiful girl with enormous black eyes, short dark curls and an overladen bust-line. Nickie's mind was whirring furiously. He had a plan.
"I want to make love to you," he told her directly.
"Oh! I knew it! You're some kind of a nut! You just make one move and I'll scream for the police!"
Nickie made a move. He put his hand under her dress. He worked it under her panties. Nickie's hand connected with her soft nether lips. The motion of his fingers was not hasty. It didn't have to be. Nickie brought his fingers into a position he'd been taught. He rubbed very slowly. The girl's mouth was open to scream, but no scream came out.
Instead she emitted a rapturous sigh. Nickie felt her go limp with consent. Nickie's respect for his instructor soared. The technique had reduced the unwilling girl to a shivering heap of desire. Nickie continued to rub; she was dampening now, shivering even harder. He removed his hand and began to work on the buttons of her low-cut dress.
"Just the panties," she protested feebly. "Just the panties. Leave everything else on. I can't wait! I just can't wait!"
"No," said Nickie, unbuttoning below her waist. "Everything is coming off. Every last stitch!"
"Oooh!" she said. The idea seemed to excite her greatly. "All I have on besides the panties is the dress anyway."
"Good," said Nickie. He was stripping off the dress. Her huge melon breasts burst into view, heavy and pink-tipped. Nickie kissed them into awareness, making the nipples erect and little goose pimples stand out on the flanks.
"What's your name?" Nickie said. He always liked to know the names of girls he made love to. Besides, his professor had explained that it was handy to get the name. At moments of great transport you could whisper it into her ear. It was always handy to have something to whisper in a girl's ear at such a moment.
"Kay," said the beauteous girl. "My name's Kay." She spoke no more because she had shoved her lips against Nickie's and was thrusting her tongue deep inside his mouth. With her own eager hand she pulled her panties down over her madly throbbing thighs.
It was at this point that the two lovers recognized that they had a basic problem. Definitely there was not room in the laundry cart for them to stretch out.
"Do you object to sitting on a strange man's lap?" he asked her. She didn't, which more or less solved that, though the arrangement was not easily accomplished. Kay straddled Nickie's lap with her shapely calves bent under her thighs. He parted her two palpitating sentinels and eased himself in.
The cart began to shake. Sighs and gasps emanated from within. Nickie hoped that it would not overturn and cause them to bash their heads on the pavement or worse, wind up embracing a turkey carcass in one of the garbage cans.
Kay was panting. Her excitement was growing. Her thighs raged, pounding against his hips as she urged him to greater efforts. There was a small preliminary convulsion of her stomach muscles, and she clutched him around the neck, her breasts hot and hard against his chest.
Then she went off like a thunderclap, rolling across the sky. Allowing his own desire to boil over, Nickie joined her in a storm of bliss.
Then there was silence. Silence broken only by the heavy breathing of the exhausted Kay. It had worked! So far his plan had worked! Kay lay naked, uncaring. Now if only-if only it would fit!
Nickie struggled into Kay's dress. It would do, he thought. Of course, the bodice did flap a little. He wadded up too pillowcases and thrust them inside the bodice to take the place of what Kay kept there.
His hair-hmm-he thought he remembered that she'd had a scarf. He located it and tied it on. He put on Kay's shoes and stepped out of the cart. Furtively he scurried toward the hotel.
Somebody whistled. Nickie looked around and saw a sailor eyeing him. It made him feel insecure. Always before he'd been the one doing the whistling. He plumped up his pillowcase bosoms and thrust his head into the air.
"Humph!" he said in as loud and feminine a voice as he could manage. The sailor shrugged and went on. Nickie made it to the lobby. He pushed the elevator button. The elevator came and Nickie got in. He held his breath as he watched the indicator move slowly up the entire thirty floors to P for penthouse.
The door of Nickie's suite was unlocked and he let himself in. In the dimness he saw Honey's little feet wiggling in the air above the bed. Oh good grief! Were they at it again?
They were, Honey lying with her legs stuck straight up in the air, her toes waving wildly in approximately six-eighths time.
"Bruce?" she said plaintively. "What're you stopping for?"
"There's someone in this room!" Bruce declared.
"Oh, sugar, there's not anyone! Come on! How about some more of those sweet little bites between my legs. I go for that. If there's anybody here it's probably just my girlfriend."
"Girl friend!" Bruce snorted. "Just how naive do you think I am?" And he switched on the light.
"Hello," said Nickie demurely. "Don't let me disturb you. I just came in to get my nightie."
Bruce was astonished, and Honey, in a typically female manner extracted a long and intricate apology for his thoughts about her having shared the suite with a man. Bruce felt that his whole world had turned topsy-turvy.
What on earth could Honey be doing in an apartment with another girl? And such a funny-looking girl at that. Honey's roommate had hairy legs. Bruce went home without biting Honey any more between her legs. This task of course, fell to Nickie.
"Gee, I was surprised to see you," Honey told. Nickie. "I thought you were still hanging out on the balcony."
Nickie explained that a great deal had taken place since then. "I've passed between many legs since I left the balcony," he said.
"Not mine," said Honey.
"I suppose I've got to do yours now," Nickie said.
"That's right," said Honey. Nickie wet his lips with his tongue and then plastered them to Honey's turbulent little womanhood. He kissed and he bit and thrust his tongue between the two lips as high as it would go. Honey screamed in ecstasy.
All the time she kept her legs in the air. She had heard that holding your legs in the air was a good exercise for strengthening one's thigh muscles.
Honey had very little spare time to exercise, but on the other hand, she had a lot of time for love-making. Therefore she had formed the habit of holding her legs in the air during love. Honey's thigh muscles were extremely strong.
Nickie carried on the biting activity for some time while Honey's toes twitched and her plump rear gyrated. Her pelvis pressed hard against his teeth. At last, however, she wanted some of the real thing, and Nickie supplied that too.
While he did so, he nibbled her big breasts, and, glory of glories. The grape-sized tips got as big as walnuts. He'd thought from the very first time he'd seen those breasts that they had the potential and he was justifiably proud of himself for causing them to fulfill it.
Finally Nickie and Honey burst forth into bliss and the spy fell asleep without even so much as a goodnight kiss for Honey. It had been a long evening. Six times he had been called upon to demonstrate his formidable powers. Six times he had done so.
After such an evening Nickie might have hoped for a dreamless sleep, but that was not what he got. Instead, he dreamed of the fat rosy-cheeked girl the professor had dispatched to ecstasy on the second morning of seduction class.
Nickie dreamed that her big thighs were around his head and she was pushing his mouth against her. Nickie was checking and the professor sat by unconcernedly watching him choke and marking off on his evaluation sheet.
CHAPTER EIGHT
HIS TEMPO INCREASED....
Nickie was gasping. The big girl seemed orgiastic ally immune. Oh, my goodness! Would she never go off? Kiss, kiss. Gasp, gasp.
Half suffocated, Nickie woke up to discover there was no plump girl-only his pillow which had got wrapped around his head.
The hot Florida sun was already high, glaring through the plate glass balcony doors. Honey was gone. The sun gave Nickie a headache as he reflected on his adventures.
Six times. One night. A shudder passed over him as he realized the truth.
He was a doomed man-a master lover. As long as he lived he had nothing to look forward to but night after night like the one that had just passed. Now the Soviet government had spent the money training him, they would never let him quit Soviet spies never retired-unless, of course, they defected to the West.
How long would he hold up? What was the typical life span of a sex school graduate? But most of all Nickie worried whether the shambles he had made of his first night on capitalistic soil had angered his superiors.
He had to find out. He dressed himself in one of the expensive outfits in the closet and went down in the elevator. On the beach he quickly located the message drop at the base of the palm tree. There was something in it!
With trembling hands he unearthed the beer can and extracted the message. "Idiot!" it read, "dispose of the American agent who is watching you!"
An American agent! That meant he had to kill somebody. But who? Someone he had met last night? Nickie returned to the hotel and ordered breakfast by the pool. He ordered a bloody Mary with his bacon and eggs.
He needed it.
As he ate he went over the list of possible suspects. There was Mary Lou, and Angus who'd had such an awful time finding the right boobie. There was the redheaded maid and the brunette maid, Honey, her boyfriend Bruce, and poor naked Kay.
He wondered what had happened to her after he'd left her nude in the laundry cart. Let's see-had he left anybody out?
"Good morning," breathed a sultry voice. Yes, he had forgotten someone, Nickie realized as he looked up. It was the owner of the dual Mt. Rainers. She wore a low-cut red dress, the material of which clung to just the tips of her marvelous attributes, like a sunset about to disappear over the mountain peaks.
It was a wonderfully stimulating sight, one that a man ordinarily would not be likely to forget. But Nickie's love life had become so concentrated in the past few hours that he had not thought of her glories since the sight of them had caused him to lose his grip on the balcony and fall into the swimming pool.
A thought struck him full force. Maybe she had taken off her negligee because she had been trying to kill him! She had counted on the sight of those big, upturned nipples rattling him! She might be the American agent!
The girl slid her wide hips onto a chair beside him and leaned over conspiratorially so that her big breasts lay on the table like a pair of huge cantaloupes and the material of her dress fell forward to give Nickie an unthwarted look at their entire unbelievable length, right down to the tapering tip of her scarlet nipple.
"Sam's gone," she hissed.
For the moment, the giant boobs unhinged Nickie once more. There was just somthing this girl had that he could not-and he pardoned himself for his choice of words-take in stride. "Who's Sam?" he said, not taking his gaze from her bosom and thereby smearing orange marmalade all over his sunny-side up egg instead of his toast.
"Sam! You remember. My husband. I told you about him last night."
"Oh yes. You said he couldn't put it out."
"He not only can't put it out; he can't even wave it around a little," she said sadly, tears coming into her big, violet eyes.
"That's a shame. And you with so much-umm-going to waste."
She brightened. "He's gone," she repeated. "You could come up to my room."
"All right," said Nickie. He wanted to find out what her game was and he did not want to sit there and eat the egg with the marmalade on it. And, most of all, he had the strange feeling that if he didn't get a chance to stroke those marvelous goodies pretty soon, he was going to bust-at least he was going to bust the seams of his pants.
No sooner than they were inside the door of her room than Nickie stuck his hand into her bodice and drew out one of her big, long breasts.
"By golly," he murmured over and over, turning it between both hands.
"Some girls think I'm lucky having such a ledge," she informed him, "but actually these are so big it makes me tired to carry them. Keeps pulling my shoulders down. I slouch because of them. Have to keep pulling myself up straight every two minutes. It's a terrible burden to me."
She lit a cigarette and blew a smoke ring which tried to settle over one of her extensions. Finding the target too large, the smoke ring broke and dissolved in Nickie's face, which was now very close to her breast.
She sat down on the bed and let her skirt ride up over her skillful looking thighs. "Would you like a glass of wine?" she asked Nickie.
"No thank you," said Nickie politely. "What I want is a lay."
"Hurray!" said the girl, bouncing on the bed so that her other breast joggled out of her dress and danced beside its sister. At the sight of the two unclad breasts, Nickie sat down suddenly. He sat down in her lap.
Frantically he began to kiss one globe and then the other. She sighed as he kissed and began to pass him first one and then the other rythmically, as if she were feeding him dishes of fruit.
Nickie flattened her on the bed and was soon enchanted by the soul-stirring sound of her hips pounding against the mattress. He ran his hand between her thighs. The girl clapped her legs together, trapping his hand between the two mounds of sueculent, quivering flesh.
"What's the matter?" he said.
"We can't do it yet," she said. "You haven't had your aphrodisiac."
"Aphrodisiac!" said Nickie in disgust. "Look here, girl!" And he unzipped his pants and let them fall so that she might see for herself how very little he need an aphrodisiac. Nickie's pants fell. It was the girl herself who pulled down his shorts.
"Very nice," she complimented him.
"Is that all you can say?" demanded the chagrined spy-"Most girls on seeing that get all shivery and say, oh, how big. And they start wondering if they can accommodate me."
"I'm not worried," she said, and yawned.
"Just a minute," said the perturbed Nickie. "I thought you were all raring to go. You asked me up here and you said hurray." He glanced down at his manhood. Surely it was more than adequate.
"Oh, that," she said with another, longer yawn that showed him the back of her dainty mouth. "That was when I thought you were going to take the aphrodisiac. I never like to do it with a man who hasn't had one. The effect is so much more-more, well you know-more."
"I tell you I don't need one'!' Nickie protested. He began squeezing her breasts, teasing the tips between his thumb and forefinger.
"Well, that's very nice what you're doing," she told him. "As a matter-of-fact, it's even making me a little shaky. But I have a strict rule. I never do it with a man who doesn't take my aphrodisiac. You see, my hobby is collecting recipes."
"Recipes?" Nickie said, slightly confused. "For aphrodisiacs," she said as if explaining to a child. "I'm trying to concoct one that will have some effect on Sam. My latest is mandrake wine. You know, they say it's sort of magic because of the shape of the plant. It's shaped sort of like a person with his legs parted, and it grows like crazy in the Everglades. I bought this from a little old Seminole Indian woman."
"It's against my principles," Nickie said. He was a little startled to find he still had principles, even in the face of her unparalleled bosom. It gave him a good feeling, though not nearly so good a feeling as just one more bite of nipple would have given him.
"Oh well, if that's the case, then I'll just take a nap," she said. Poor girl. She had had a tough morning already just carrying her mammary glands around.
She unzipped her dress. The sound of the zipper sent a chill over Nickie's body. The hair close to his backbone prickled and stood on end. The dress fell. The spread of her hips was magnificent. Her flat stomach between them was a prairie of creamy flesh. And it started something of a prairie fire in Nickie's vitals.
Her thighs were smooth and tan and they quivered, seeming to point the way to the soft brown curls of her erotic triangle. Below the curls was the piece d'resistance-a tiny line of the most scarlet womanhood Nickie had ever seen. It seemed to be straining, as though it wished to rush from its protective covering and embrace him.
Nickie was overwhelmed. Never, never, never in his life had he seen such a woman! He gulped. He gasped.
She was getting between the covers now, but her eyes were on him knowingly. Nickie tugged loose his ascot and tossed it on the floor. He unbuttoned the collar of his shirt and inserted his finger. Boy was he hot! He had to have air.
"Where's the thermostat?" he muttered. She pointed. Nickie went over and turned down the dial. He was still hot.
"Maybe if I had a drink of something-" he murmured, sitting down wobbly-kneed in a chair. "Oh goodie!" she cried. 'Wine? Mandrake wine?" He nodded. Nickie had gone the last mile. He had lost his principles. He didn't know what had caused it-what had been the straw that broke the camel's back. It might have been something as simple as the curve of her lovely navel.
Or perhaps it had been the breasts in mass or just their desire-elongated tips. Most likely it had been that scarlet piece d'resistance that seemed to be beckoning him toward it.
At any rate, he was a quivering heap of helpless jelly as he downed the glass of wine she brought him. It tasted horrible but he held his nose and thought of the delights that lay beyond after he had swallowed it.
It reminded him of his childhood when his mother had been wont to promise him a piece of candy if he would just take his tonic. He began to feel dizzy. Was it the closeness of all that pulchritude that was making him dizzy?
He peered at her breasts. Her breasts! Where were they? Great Scott! They were floating through the air! They weren't attached to her any longer! No, there she was over there on the bed and she still had them. One of them had winked at him.
Winked at him! Oh dear! What was happening to him?
He felt very light inside, very happy and in a moment he ceased to worry because a breast had winked at him. He began to feel extremely satisfied with himself. He grew bold. He winked back at the breast.
The room was filled now with translucent breasts. They floated like bubbles through the air. Nickie laughed. He tried to catch one. It floated a-way. Her stomach loomed. He bit. He seemed to have a mouthful of chocolate-marshmallow heavenly hash.
It was potent stuff, that mandrake wine! Wow, had she ever been right! It certainly was so much more-more! Nickie was really "up" on the stuff. He had had a whole glass of the libido-expanding potion.
Oh boy, oh boy! Now if only he could find the right bosoms in all these bosoms-the real ones that is! There she was! Pointing her beautiful real nipples at him and urging him to the bed! He lunged for her. She laughed and a pair of black undies seemed to float from her mouth.
Nickie had not known he could feel as excited as he was feeling now. He caught her thighs and pinned her to the bed. He glanced down at himself. Thank heaven his own equipment did not seem to be doing any floating; it was staying right where it belonged.
He heard her moan as he thrust himself into her depths. The moan seemed to shatter into a thousand erotic sound waves over their heads. And if Nickie had discovered Mt. Rainer when he'd seen her breasts, he now was getting the full tour of the Grand Canyon.
It was marvelous, marvelous, marvelous!
Nickie lost track of everything. He forgot about the heavenly hash and the soap bubble bosoms. He forgot everything but the wild rampaging of their bodies.
Nickie did not know when it was that he became unconscious. He did not remember any moment of climax. He did not remember any sort of end at all. And he didn't even know how much of what happened happened only in his drugged mind.
CHAPTER NINE
IN, OUT, UP, DOWN....
"Wake up, Nickie-poo! Wake up, you old sexy thing you!"
Nickie stirred. "Lemme alone," he murmured. He was way off somewhere, and he didn't care if he never came back.
"Nickie! You wake right now, Nickie-poo! I'm hungry!"
Nickie frowned. Who on earth had the right to talk to him like that? Nickie-poo indeed! The affront to his dignity reached at last into his somnolent brain and roused him to action.
He opened his eyes.
"Nickie-poo! You're awake," cooed the proprietor of Mt. Rainer and the Grand Canyon.
She was lying beside him in a big double bed. The covers were pulled just to the swell of her bosom, which was partially covered by a revealing white nightgown. In the cleavage between the breasts nestled a catalya orchid pinned to the gown.
"Nickie-poo," she said, snuggling against him. "Old darling Nickie." There was an expression on her face Nickie did not quite like. She looked extremely self-satisfied. Was it because she had dealt him a soul-rending ecstasy he did not remember?
He looked around and realized that they were no longer in her room in the Tropic Sands Hotel. Sunlight streamed through white jalousied shutters. There was no air conditioning and the breeze was warm. Soft and warm. It was a bungalow, it seemed.
Outside Nickie saw a banyan tree and beyond was pink sand and unbelievably blue water.
"Where are we?" he demanded. "We're not even in Miami!"
"Certainly not," she said in a hurt tone. "Don't you remember? This is Freeport on the Grand Bahama. We're on our honeymoon."
Honeymoon!
Nickie was aghast. He stared at her open mouthed while she plumped up her bosom and continued. "You were so sweet, Nickie-poo-You insisted on hiring a private cruiser to sail us over here. Oh, it was so romantic last night, Nickie! I do wish you remembered! It's terrible for you not to! Look. Here's the license."
And she hopped out of bed to show it to him. "But-" said Nickie, "I don't even know your name."
"Lila," she said. "That's a nice name, don't you think?"
"But how could you marry me? You don't even know me! You don't know anything about me!"
"I know all about you," she said coyly.
"All!" he blanced. Had he told her he was a Russian spy?
"I mean, you're rich," she said.
Ah! Nickie relaxed. So he had been married for his money! He felt better. He studied her bosom beneath the filmy gown. Desire stirred as he thought of the winking breasts. His stomach growled as he remembered the taste of her marshmallow tummy. A thought occurred to him.
"Tell me, Lila," he said, 'thas this marriage been consummated?"
She giggled. "No, not actually. Of course, there was that before the wedding."
His hand twitched uncontrollably. As if possessed, it yearned to dive into her bodice. What a woman! She was just too much! He lunged for her, banging pelvis to pelvis as he flattened her against the mattress.
Both of his hands tore into her gown, lifting the globes and squeezing them, while his lips rapped out a fury of hot kisses on the nipples and her stqmach. He jerked up her gown, uncovering the brown curls which shimmered with gold in the sunlight.
She was struggling. "Oh stop!" she whined. "Please, please stop!"
"Stop? Why?" Nickie gasped out, moving his lips down to caress the golden curls.
She writhed up against his mouth and jolts of electricity raced along Nickie's spine as he felt her sweetness against him.
He noticed something. When he had pulled up her gown, the skirt had covered up one of the quivering breasts. The overwrought bridegroom could not bear the thought of losing sight of it, even for an instant. He yanked the gown back down.
"Oh," she moaned in disappointment as her throbbing thighs were once more covered. Nickie moaned too. He did not want the thighs covered up. Certainly not. He pulled it up again. Once more it fell over the tips of her colossal alpine breasts.
Nickie could not stand it.
With an outraged cry, he ripped it off over her head, nearly jerking her arms out of their sockets as he did so. Lila shrieked with surprise and pain.
"Stop!" she said again and this time she brought her knee up hard into his solar plexus. Nickie had the wind knocked out of him, but not the desire. As she jumped out of bed, he seized her calf and brought her crashing to the mat-covered floor.
Promptly Lila rolled herself up in the mat and sat up, looking at him reproachfully.
"What on earth's the matter?" Nickie said. This morning-no it must have been yesterday morning-you were all hot for it! You could hardly wait-and now-"
"Yesterday morning I wasn't a bride," she said, casting her eyes down into the mat for a look at her breasts. "You have to be very careful with a bride. Very gentle. Don't you know you might scare me?"
Scare her? How ridiculous!
Who could scare an erotic volcano like Lila? If anybody was going to be scared it'd be the male partner in any love bout with this fantastically proportioned woman.
But Nickie needed her. His whole being was inflamed with passion for her. There was nothing to do but play her little game. He sat down beside her and hefted the greatness of his anatomy.
"Lila, darling," he murmured. "This is-this is-well, you know what it is."
She shook her head. She cast down her eyes, demurely it seemed, but Nickie suspected she was admiring the overpowering voluptuousness of her beautiful sexy body.
Nickie fumed. "Well, it's what you do with it," he explained.
"Oh," she said in a small voice. "It's so big!"
Nickie felt pleased. Things were going better now. Yesterday she hadn't had anything to say a-bout his manhood except that it was nice. Just nice!
"Do what?" she was saying. 'What do you do with it?"
Nickie was exasperated. He yanked open the mat and grabbed her by a thigh. "You have a go," he told her. "And that's just what I'm going to do right now and no more of this fooling around."
"Oh!" she fluttered. "You can't do that! You'll split me in two! You'll simply ruin me!"
But Nickie was not fooled. Underneath the brown curls her red womanhood issued an urgent invitation. Invitation? No, it was a command.
Lila crossed her legs and ran her hand down over the triangle, trying to smooth the curls over her tell-tale passion. There was no doubt about it. She was getting a kick from the game she was playing. Pretending that it was all brand new and that she didn't know what thrills were in store for her was arousing her greatly.
Gently but firmly, he uncrossed her legs. He laid her unresisting body flat on the open mat and sat back to admire his handiwork. She looked extremely promising.
Her breasts were firm and the erect nipples blushed to their full potential of crimson. Her stomach was quivering and there were little lines of goose pimples like thunder squalls across it. Her thighs were astir and the veins were throbbing as they pumped her boiling blood through her disquieted body.
Lila was panting with desire.
He lowered himself slowly, slowly onto her. He could see her tensing almost beside herself with the titillation of the unhasty descent. Her eyes widened and he felt her hot breath on his chest.
But just before he reached her, she groaned and cried out wildly. "Oh, Nickie Oh, I can't! I can't! Have mercy! It's too big!"
"If it is, I'll make room," he promised her. "I'll make you big enough."
"Oh, Nickie you're so masterful!" she exclaimed and surrendered without further ado. She had as magnificent a chasm as he had remembered. It seemed to have a hundred little avenues of delight.
Nickie thought he understood Lila's problem.
After all, he was trained in psychology. He applied his training to his bride. Probably she had never known a man who was not awed by her sexuality. Never a man she hadn't been able to reduce to a wild-eyed heap with one shake of her endowments.
Lila needed domination.
She needed a masterful husband and, he, being a master lover, was just the man. In fact, he was probably the only man she would ever meet that could ever dominate her sexually.
And even for him, it was not going to be easy. Life with Lila could turn out to be just one long battle for erotic dominion, but somehow, the prospect did not seem bad. Nickie was bringing all his formidable powers to bear on the heaving girl.
She was shrieking beneath him now. She was in a delirium of frenzy. Her nails raked down his back, but Nickie felt no pain from the long deep furrows she carved into him.
Her legs wrapped around him and tightened. Her hips beat out a rhythm of joy on the floor. Then, at last, she exploded violently. Her legs fell away from him and she relaxed.
She was trembling. Nickie looked into her eyes and was startled by the look he saw there. Her violet eyes were shining and the look was something very closely akin to adoration.
"Oh, Nickie," she murmured. "Oh, Nickie, Nickie, Nickie! Oh, Nickie-poo!"
He wished she would, not call him Nickie-poo. He told her so. But tears trembled in her eyes at the reprimand and she begged to be allowed the privilege. She asked, as a servant asks a boon of his master, and Nickie was touched. He could not refuse. He felt very tender.
"Oh, Nickie-poo!" said Lila, exercising her newly won privilege. "Darling Nickie-poo!" She seemed to feel that was all the comment the situation called for.
Suddenly Nickie remembered something. "Great Scott!" he said.
"What is it, darling? Didn't you get enough?"
"It's Sam!" Nickie yelped.
"Sam?" Lila couldn't seem to place the name.
"Your husband! Good heavens, Lila, you've committed bigamy!"
"Oh." She yawned and stretched. "Well, you see, he wasn't really my husband," she explained. "I just sort of split the room rent with him. It made the men I wanted to have a time with feel more at ease."
"It did?"
"Yes. They thought it was safer that way. Since I already had a husband, I couldn't marry them. I read that in a woman's magazine once-that men feel safer with married women. I've learned a lot of what I know from magazines."
"I understand," Nickie nodded.
"Good! You don't really think I'd be married to a man who-"
"No," Nickie interrupted. "I didn't really think you'd be married to a man who couldn't even wave it around."
"Umm," said Lila. "Well, that's all settled then." Too weary to get up, she pulled the bedspread off the bed and covered herself up.
Even now, Nickie could hardly bear to see the magnificent globes disappear. But he had other things to think about. He was a Russian spy on assignment in the United States. And at the moment, he was not even in the United States. Because of Lila!
And he had a wife.
The Executive Action Division would frown, no doubt, on his getting married. How could he possibly carry on his assignment with Lila tagging after him?
The answer was, of course, that it was impossible. Lila's tremendous charms would keep him in a state of exhaustion all the time. And he had no resistance to her!
What would he do?
Nickie's methodical spy's mind quickly found the solution. It was not a solution he would have chosen. It seemed like such a waste of natural resources. But there was no choice, he knew. It was his life or Lila's. Lila would have to meet with an accident. A very fatal accident.
He sighed deeply. Let's see. It should look natural. What was dangerous? Ah. He would take her lobster hunting on a reef off some small island. A reef-teaming with life! Even the coral that you walked on alive!
It could break away and send you plunging into deep caves inside it. If the fall didn't kill you, there would be worms and sea spiders, sea scorpions-maybe a moray eel, or with luck, an octopus.
Pood Lila! Poor, beautiful Lila! She was doomed!
CHAPTER TEN
AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN....
"Nickie-poo," said Lila, "I haven't the foggiest old notion of how to catch a lobster. Couldn't we just shut off this silly old motor and sort of smooch a little?"
"No," said Nickie between clenched teeth. He was clinging hard to the rudder of an outboard motor boat. They were scudding over the soft water of the blue Carribbean. Moonlight flickered "ver the waves.
Nickie was exercising all his negligible power of resistance to Lila, which was necessary because she kept brushing his chest with the tips of her breasts.
Fully outlined under her white blouse, the breasts moved across him and swung back for another round. They moved rhythmically, like windshield wipers caressing the windshield.
The succulence of her thighs was not easy to miss either. She was wearing short shorts, so that her husband could see the entire length of her strong legs, could see moonlight shining on her eager, fleshy thigh.
The shorts were so tight that Nickie could see faint outlines of promise where the cloth was pulled as though they would burst forth at any moment.
Nickie was living in fear that they would do just that. He knew if he got one more look at Lila's wiggling rear portion, he would be lost. He'd be making love to her and failing in his duty to kill her.
Lila was an extremely happy bride, except for her current frustration in getting Nickie to relieve her sexual tension. It was a tension that had not been relieved since morning. Good heavens.
How long did he expect her to stand it? And on her honyemoon, too.
Lila had been shopping all day. She had spent five thousand dollars on jewels, a thousand on dresses, and three hundred dollars on night gowns.
Lila economized on this last item because she figured a man of Nickie's talents was going to keep her naked most of the time. But she could wear her jewelry anytime. Even when she was naked.
Jewelry did not interefere with the important thing in life.
Last, and symbolically, Lila bought a seventy-five dollar alligator purse. Now that she was going to have so much money; she couldn't keep it in just any old thing, could she?
Nickie had signed all the checks. He was generous, but he seemed preoccupied. Lila, very naturally, had thought it was her he was preoccupied with. She thought he was eager to get back to the bungalow and consummate some more.
Then he'd come up with this thing about a lobster hunt. Lila did not want lobsters. They were ugly, and broiled in butter they had all sorts of calories. Lila wanted sex.
And Lila, with her attributes, was used to having sex anytime she wanted it. She would get it now, she told herself, yawning and unbuttoning the two top buttons on her blouse.
The motorboat quavered off course as her foothills loomed forth. The memory of those majestic peaks still covered by her clothing pounded in Nickie's brain. He pushed his feet hard into the bottom of the boat as if to root himself to the spot. He brought the boat back into line.
Lila was puzzled. That should have done it, she thought. Oh well, a challenge would be interesting. When Nickie did get started, he was dynamite. Yes, indeedy. She remembered his last explosion, which had blown both of them sky high.
She debated what to do next.
Seldom in her life had she ever had to go beyond the point of unfastening the top of her blouse. Logically, she unzipped her shorts and wiggled out of them. It took a considerable amount of wiggling, because they were so tight.
Lila muttered under her breath. Her full, sensual lips drew into a pout. Her motion became frantic The shorts had stuck halfway down her stomach. The partly opened zipper displayed a flash of pink bikini panties just below the puncture of her twin mounds.
"Oh" Lilia moaned. "Help me, Nickie!" It was a small boat. Lila's flailing legs banged against him as she struggled. The zipper broke loose with a pop and flew off the track. "Goodness," said Lia. "Now I'll never be able to close up my shorts again! Never again, all night!" And she giggled. She knew she was winning now!
She squirmed out of the shorts and dropped them into the bottom of the boat. "Gee, ifs hot!" she breathed and sighed deeply, heaving her mighty bosom. She pulled open her blouse and let the sides of it flap in the breeze.
"Agggh!" cried Nickie. He dropped the rudder and the boat spun out of control. Lila's thigh mashed the throttle as she bounded happily into position in the bottom of the boat.
Nickie's hands leaped for her scanty bra.
Actually, it was a 38D, but on Lila it looked scanty anyway.
His hands were on the hooks. Like two rockets, her breasts burst forth as the brassiere came undone. He caught them gracefully, like a quarterback intercepting a pass, and squeezed the flanks so that the big nipples jumped forward, juicy as vine-ripened tomatoes.
Nickie gobbled. He gobbled first one and then the other. Intent little sucking noises issued from his busy mouth. "Oooh!" said Lila triumphantly and quakingly. "Oh Nickie!"
Her rear was pounding frantically on the bottom of the boat. The craft was shipping a bit of water, which had collected on the floor. Lila's excited buttocks jounced up and down in the pool, splashing cold water over her lover.
Later, Nickie figured it must have been the continual cold shower he was receiving that had kept him from going altogether out of his mind with ecstasy. For Lila had been pent up, frustrated; and now that she had got her way, she was really something to reckon with! Even more than usual.
In fact, Nickie thought, she was even more of a sex demon tonight than she had been the night he had thought that her breasts winked at him. To surpass that, Lila had to go some, and go she did.
She was hot all over, and inside the heat was so intense that Nickie thought his important part was going to melt and float away into her passionate depths.
Apparently though, it didn't melt, because there was no let up in Lila's enthusiasm. She kicked wildly, like a beetle turned on its back. She sighed and moaned until Nickie could stand the sounds no longer and pressed his mouth hard against hers, thrusting his tongue into her delicate mouth.
She bit his tongue, crushing it between her two even rows of shining white teeth. They were beautiful teeth, Nickie thought, so far gone in rapture that he failed to feel any resentment over the agonizing pain she had caused.
Probably he would have to eat nothing but soup for a week after this! Poor tongue! But Lila was enough to make an invalid out of any man.
She churned against him, her stomach taut, her breath coming in long, tearing gasps. At least, Nickie thought, she was going to die fulfilled; If they got to the reef at all. If he could find out where they were when he finally got the boat under control again. And, as an added attraction, he'd be temporarily resistant to her after he'd had a nice, spine-tingling explosion.
That was the trick! He'd have to make love to her and kill her not too long afterward! That was the only way to be sure he'd be out from under her spell when the time came to do the terrible deed.
Lila's muscles were tense under him now. She was paralyzed with the overwhelming emotion she felt. Nickie was doing all the work. Up and down he shot, his body blurring with the speed of his effort.
Still held rigid with joy, Lila once again found her voice. "Nickie-poo," she moaned in a voice that dripped with sensuality. "Nickie, do you think the boat might-"
Crash!
The jolt threw the two lovers apart. "Nickie, look!" Lila screamed. There was a big, jagged hole in the bow of the boat where it had rammed into coral. Quickly, the hole was filled with water into the craft.
Panic-stricken, Lila tried to stop the flow first by thrusting her shorts and then her rear into the hole. It was no good.
"Oh, help, Nickie," she cried as the boat sank below the surface. "I can't swim."
She couldn't swim! How simple! A boating accident. His wife would drown. Nothing to it. Just swim away and leave her.
Lila was sinking below. Her big, luscious globes were passing out of sight into the ocean depths. Nickie sighed as she disappeared. It reminded him of the sinking of the Titanic though, of course, you could not say that Lila had been on her maiden voyage.
Well, it was over now, the splendid, ecstasy-inducing mountains and caverns of her superlative body had vanished as if they had never existed. Such was life. Such was death.
"The paths of glory lead but to the grave," quoth Nickie sadly.
"Help, Nickie! Nickie-poo!" There once more was Lila, her hair wet and streaming, her mascara running. Nickie treaded water furiously. He must not go to her aid! Even though he could see her breasts floating on the water like two overturned volcanic islands. Even though the fire she had aroused in him was too intense to be put out by the dunking he had received. Though his breath stuck in his throat and his spine tingled with desire. She was sinking again, thank goodness! "Nickie!" she cried.
Somehow, the last part of her to go under was the red peaks of a bosom that should have been written of in history books. Nickie emitted a howl of agony as she disappeared.
Where, where in all the world, in the Free World or in Russia, would he ever, ever find a girl who was woman enough to put out the flames she had kindled in his desire-racked body? If only she had lived long enough to dispatch him to bliss!
Poor doomed Nickie! Poor doomed Lila!
"Help, Nickie!" She had surfaced again! Oh, would she never drown and leave him in peace! Well, not exactly in peace. Nickie knew that after she had drowned, he would never be able to sleep nights again. Not because of his conscience, naturally, but because he would be forever in need of those big, skillful thighs and those hobbling, beyond-all-description breasts!
Nickie tried to close his eyes so that he would not see her, but the urge to peek was too strong. He could see her thighs thrashing in the water. If only she would go down once more! It would be the third time. Surely she would not come up again!
"Nickieeee!" she went down, cupping her hands under her breasts and pointing them in his direction in a last, desperate gesture of passion.
Nickie's legs went shaky with relief. He swallowed a couple of mouthfuls of sea water. It was all over at last. He must not think any more about her. The thing to do was to swim somewhere and get himself rescued.
But what would the rescuers think of his unclothed anatomy still in the distorted proportions Lila had left it?
"Nickie!" It was a miracle! She had surfaced once more. Nickie had used up the last of his self control. He swam toward her and clasped his arm around her, his hands once more touching her breasts.
"Oh, Nickie," she sighed. "What took you so long? I nearly drowned." Her nipples tensed under his touch. "Oh, I'm so steamed up," she breathed, coughing out water by the gallon.
The coral reef on which they had hit was the very one Nickie had been taking Lila to in order to murder her. The spy dragged her onto it, laying her down gently so that the sharp points of coral would not cut her. He thought he had better give her artificial respiration.
He put his mouth to hers and laid his hands on her chest. She revived quickly, darting her tongue into his mouth and twisting her breasts for his touch. Her thighs also grew busy. They pounded on the coral. "Ouch!" she cried as it cut her.
Nickie rolled her over. If nothing else, he was a thoughtful murderer. He didn't want her to hurt herself. Besides, he'd been wondering what it would be like to do it with her on top.
Probably he would have the sensation of being swallowed whole.
She sank onto him and went to work busily. Her rear rose and fell riotiously. He felt himself almost to the bursting point.
"Oh, Nickie! Stop pinching me! Oh, it hurts! Oh it tickles!"
But Nickie was not pinching her. An investigating disclosed a large red lobster attached to her rear. "EEE!" cride Lila and gave a mighty buck of her hips. The creature came loose and splashed into the sea.
And Nickie, too, was unhinged by the lurch. ness.
The storm of ecstasy burst upon him and Lila, and they plunged together headlong into oblivious sweet-
CHAPTER ELEVEN
UNINHIBITED SEX ON THE ISLAND....
"Yoohoo! Yoohoo! Anybody there?"
Nickie and Lila heard the voice through a fog of contentment. They struggled up. Nickie was clad in a manner of speaking in his undershorts, which were around his ankles. Lila's shorts and bra had been lost, but she still had her pink panties clutched in one hand. The wet white blouse she modestly pulled across her front stuck to her breasts like saran wrap.
Through the moonlit night came the ghostly shape of a sailing vessel, sails filled in the breeze. There was something unusual about the crew, they noticed. They seemed stranger than the crew of the Flying Dutchman.
"Good grief," whispered Lila. "There must be a dozen of them! And they're all naked!"
The sailors put over a dinghy and two naked men and a naked woman came to the reef. They were all tanned mahogany, and it was obvious that the sun had not missed an inch of their bodies.
They all seemed thin. Even the woman seemed stringy, especially beside Lila. Nickie could see that Lila was relieved. If she were to be rescued by a naked woman, she would not be outshown anyway.
The naked woman looked strong, all the same. Even her firm little breasts seemed athletic, as though she were in the habit of flexing the muscles hourly.
"Lose your boat?" she asked.
"Yes. We came over for lobsters and-"
"You're not the police? You're not the vice squad?"
"Oh, heavens no!" said Lila.
"Well-" the woman seemed to consider. "You can come and spend the night with us and tomorrow we'll have someone take you back to Freeport. Of course, that's only if you're not squeamish. Or prudish."
"Oh, we're neither," insisted Nickie and Lila together. They were getting very cold, and a sea spider had just crawled up Nickie's leg.
"You see," Lila explained, "we just got married. We're on our honeymoon."
The woman softened. "Oh my," she said. "How appropriate!"
Nickie and Lila piled into the dingy. "By the way," said Nickie when the sloop was under way once more, "where are we going?"
"Where?" said their hostess. "Why where else? We're going to Sex Cult Cay, of course."
"Sex Cult Cay?"
"It's something of a secret place," she said. "An uncharted island. Very small. If the government were ever to find us there'd probably be all sorts of scandal. Let me introduce myself. I am the Countess Mariet von Freeleg. This is the count." She indicated a skinny, half-bald little man.
"Oh!" said Lila, drawing in her breath. "I've heard of you. You were one of the most important members of the jet set. And then about six months ago, you and the count just dropped out of sight. Along with a cruising sloop and a whole boatload of guests."
"Right," said Mariet. "We all dropped out of the jet set, you see It was a silly, shallow life. All of us agreed that we must make our lives more meaningful. And so, during an excursion from Port-au-Prince, we found what we'd been looking for."
"What?" choroused Nickie and Lila breathlessly.
"Sex."
"Ah," said Nickie and Lila.
"But a very special kind of sex. A wild, uninhibited sex. You see, while we were in Haiti we arranged to have ourselves taken to see a voodoo fire. It's very hard to find out about these things, but then if you have enough money, you can find out anything."
"Naturally some of the proceedings disgusted us. You know, things like throwing black roosters into boiling pots-skinning cats, that kind of thing. But oh, the drums! The drums! They simply drugged us with their beat!"
"And those glistening naked bodies, strutting, leaping into the air, with all the proud show of masculinity that our stupid Western civilizations are too small-minded-too frightened to allow."
"I knew then as I let myself be lured into that circle of joyous dancers-I knew that the freedom, the nakedness, the un-self-conscious fulfillment of the body was life! Life at its best!"
"And the others agreed with me. After that Haitian orgy, we could never go back to silly little places like Majorca or St. Moritz. So we came here and found this place"
"You would ordinarily not be allowed to see how we live, but since the only alternative to taking you to Sex Cult Cay was leaving you to die on the reef, you will have a treat you will never forget. Tonight we are having a voodoo fire ourselves. You may participate."
Even as the boat approached the island the sound of the drums began. Flames leaped up from a huge fire in a clearing on the rocky little island. In its glare the visitors saw the silhouettes of banyan trees, the flash of naked, sweating bodies, dancing, jumping, shouting-their every movement speaking volumes of sex, sex, sex.
Nickie felt uneasy. Would his training stand him in good stead? Even that mighty sex warrior Lila trembled at the sight.
Mariet stepped ashore. At her appearance there were cries of "Mamaloi! Mamaloi!"
So-Countess Mariet was the grand priestess of this set-up. And that made the count the papaloi-Not that papalois were anywhere near as important as mamalois, but they did do magic.
The count however, had only one bit of magic on his mind at that instant. "I want a drink," he said. He hefted a jug and then passed it to Nickie. He drank. It was tafia, a fiery Haitian rum. It burned Nickie from the tip of his tongue to the bottom of his stomach. Lila drank, too.
"Mmm," she said. The newlyweds did not feel so frightened anymore.
Countess Mariet had sprung to the center of the circle. She raised her arms over her head and shrieked. The drums rose to a crescendo. Mariet began a fantastic dance.
She shook. Her eyes stared straight ahead unseeing, as if her entire consciousness was turned to the sensuality her body was evoking. The other cult members squatted on the ground to watch her.
"Boob-titty-boom! Boom! Boom! Boom.
The drums were deafening. There were half a dozen of these goatskin drums suspended from crossbars above the drummers' heads. Several of the players beat wildly with wooden sticks, while the others caressed the drums by drawing their fingers over the skins. It made an eerie sound. It sent shivers up and down the spines of the listeners.
Mariet's shaking was furious. Her breasts did a ballet together. Mariet was so skilled that she was able to shake one of them then the other. It was as if her breasts themselves were dancers.
Nickie and Lila felt the scorching heat from the fire on their naked bodies. They were dizzy with the heat and the noise.
"Care for something to eat?" It was the count, seemingly unperturbed by the ceremony.
Nickie and his bride accepted gratefully. The count led them away from the fire to where the feast had been laid out. It was a strange conglomeration.
There was Haitian Congo bean stew, ground rice, and rum, all from Port-au-Prince. There was broiled lobster, tenderized squid and fruit from the island itself, and as a final touch, caviar and champagne.
"I always like to eat early," said the count pholosophically. "If you don't you'll get all involved in the sex and wake up in the middle of the night with some woman on top of you and your stomach growling." He made it sound like a terrible fate.
Nickie's eyes turned back to the area of the dance and followed the serpentine motions of Mariet's writhing body. Now, like a lusting demon, she moved among her followers, pausing by each male, swaying, quivering, until each was drawn into a state of pure sexual frenzy.
Suddenly she was before Nickie and Lila. In her hand was a jug of rum. She poured it into a bowl and lighted a match. Flames sprang up.
The mamaloi upended the bowl over their heads. A shower of sparks filled the black night as the burning rum scattered.
"Ahiee!" A great cry went up from the cultists. "You're very favored," the count said as Mariet moved away. "Your marriage has been 'fixed."'
"Fixed?"
"Yes. The mamaloi has done her magic. You will stay together forever. Nothing can part you."
"Oh dear," said Lila uneasily.
"The circle's forming! Come on! Come on!" cried Mariet gaily. "Tonight it's leap frog."
And leap frog it was.
Bent over on their hands and knees, the women formed the circle, their rears thrust high into the air. The men arranged themselves in leap frog position over the women. Mariet blew a whistle. Instantly all the men thrust themselves into the depths of their eagerly waiting partners.
For an instant, Nickie, was confused. Then he felt a strong tug on his manliness. "Oh, hurry, hurry!" cried a voice under him. He plunged in, and she bucked madly, like an untamed horse.
Her breath began to come in gasps. "Oh hurry! Hurry!" she urged him again. Nickie wondered what was wrong. Maybe the blood was rushing to her head from being in that position. The whistle blew again.
"Ooh!" she said in disappointment. "We didn't make it! You have to leap now."
He leaped.
Now he had another partner. The drums pounded. There were shouts and cries of ecstasy. His partner wriggled under him. Purposefully Nickie charged into the fray.
"Ah!" Nickie's partner gave a cry of joy as she exploded into bliss.
"Tweet!" went the whistle. Nickie leapfrogged to the next girl. Her eager rump rose to meet him. Nickie was getting into the swing of things now. With each partner he enthusiastically sampled sexual delights.
He reeled happily under the influence of her upward thrusting rear and swigs of tafia which he took to sustain himself whenever the jug was passed.
"Whee!" cried Nickie repeatedly. He wished his old instructor from seduction school were here to see this. Or most of it, anyway.
For Nickie did have a couple of bad moments during the orgy that he wouldn't have wanted anyone to know about. One was when he became too eager and leaped before the whistle was blown.
He'd landed piggy back on top of another man, a sensation that neither of them found pleasant!
Another was when he entered a tunnel that somehow seemed very familiar. The climax Lila quickly caused him was more than he could bear. He pitched forward over her head and banged the back of his skull on a rock.
Everything went black.
Poor Nickie. It seemed that so often his copulations with Lila ended in disaster.
CHAPTER TWELVE
"Lila?" Nickie's mouth moved to form the words. They came out in a whisper. He opened his eyes. Someone was standing over him.
It was Lila. No, this woman seemed rather cool. And her breasts. They were pointy ones, not at all like Lila's. "Lie still," she said.
Naturally Nickie started to struggle. Movement was impossible. He was in a straight jacket.
Nickie did a trite thing. He gazed at the girl and asked a question. "Where am I?" he said.
"In a hospital in Freeport. Your wife brought you. You injured yourself at a party last night."
"And where is my wife?"
"She is shopping, I believe," said the nurse. "She felt she should have something black to wear in case you died." Black pearls, I think she said."
"Oh," said Nickie.
"But don't worry," the nurse continued reassuringly. "Your doctor has come over from Miami especially to attend to you. And he has told us all about your spells of hysteria. That's why we have you in the strait jacket. He's coming in a few minutes to give you something for your nerves. Then we'll take it off."
Something for his nerves! Nickie could have used it. For the spy recognized the methods of his country's agents. Obviously his superiors considered that his escapades were endangering its intelligence network. He was to be liquidated. The "doctor" would simply give him a fatal injection. And here he was all trussed up unable to move!
What could he do?
He had only one weapon he might use. One thing that could save him! He was a man and she was a woman. Sex! Mentally, he flipped through the pages of his seduction manual and found nothing made to order. He would have to improvise.
"I wish we could take the jacket off right now," he sighed.
"Why?"
"I want to show you something-my tattoo." She laughed. "I've seen lots of tattooes before," she said.
"Not like this one," Nickie assured her. "It's an erotic tattoo. Something I got in the South Sea islands."
"Really?" she said. She was getting interested now. This was surely the greatest challenge of his career, Nickie thought. He had to seduce a woman without even touching her.
"You should see it! Listen-this tattoo is so steamy I've been banned in Boston!"
"Tell me about it," she said, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
No doubt about it, Nickie thought. She was trying to see under the edge of the jacket. Her lips were parted and Nickie saw those pointy breasts heave slightly under her uniform.
"Well," said Nickie. "It's a picture of a man and a woman making love. The woman is lying on her back and her legs are spread wide apart as if she's expecting a freight train to come through. As for the man, well, he's on top, and the marvelous thing is that when I flex my shoulders the man and the woman-they-well, they-move."
"Oh!" said the nurse, her eyes widening. She blushed "I wish I could see it!"
"You could unfasten me," Nickie suggested.
"It's against the rules," she said timidly.
Nickie winked broadly. "I could flex my shoulders for you, too," he suggested. "I've got it down to sort of an art. When I move real fast, it's something to see! And as for inhaling, well, the effect is indescribable. You might say I breathe sex."
"Oh!" She was wavering. "Well, maybe if the jacket just happened to come loose-you'd let me do you right up again after I saw it, wouldn't you?"
"Yes," said Nickie. "That is-if you wanted to."
"Well-" She drew in her breath, an expression of lewd excitement coming into her eyes. She was quivering all over. "Just one little peek-" Her fingers trembled as she unfastened the strait jacket.
As it parted, Nickie worked fast.
He had to, before she found out he was lying about the tattoo. His hands rose, one of them seizing her by the thigh and spilling her on top of him.
His other hand unzipped her uniform and delved into her bra for those pointy breasts. His mouth plastered itself to hers. He forced open her lips and darted his tongue between them.
The hand under her thigh moved for her panties. It was all quite scientific. It came under the general heading of copulations-hasty. But the sensations Nickie was receiving as she wiggled against him were not at all scientific.
He squirmed his fingers under her panties and discovered that she was hot and quivering within. He yanked them down. The poor girl needed a little air on all that fever.
As he squeezed her firm little rump, he noticed something disquieting. She seemed to be choking, gasping wildly for air. Oh, rats. He had broken the cardinal rule taught him at spy school. Always unhook the bra.
In his haste, he had simply plunged into her bosom. Quickly he unhooked her. The breasts, which had appeared so small, burst forth swollen and erect. Her breath was rythmic now, deep and tinged with desire.
She tried to pull away from him. "Let me see your tatoo," she demanded. "Flex your shoulders for me. Let's do it sitting up, so I can sit facing you and I can watch your chest. Especially when you inhale. I can hardly wait to see what happens when you inhale!"
Darn!
In spite of her passion, in spite of his hand working between her legs, her mind was still on that tattoo. He couldn't take a chance on letting her get a look at his quite ordinary medium-hairy, unadorned chest. Quickly he rolled out from under her and pushed her face into a pillow.
"Ughaohluump," she said.
"What?" He eased his hold on her momentarily-
"I said I don't like to do it from behind.. It makes me nervous-if you know what I mean. Men are so clumsy. They're always hitting the wrong spot."
But Nickie was in no mood for such feminine hangups. He didn't even care much which spot he hit as long as she got satisfied in a hurry. He plunged and was lucky.
"Good shot," she moaned, as he penetrated the long sweep of her hot, damp channel.
Nickie churned furiously. He tried long, deep thrusts and slow, agonizingly delicious slides. She groaned and twisted under him, her whole frame tossing and twitching. Nickie's hands massaged the pointy breasts, which seemed ready to burn round holes into his palms.
Her legs, spraddled widely apart, were taut with her erotic struggle. Everything indicated that release was emminent. Minute after minute ticked by. Still nothing more happened. She was gasping now, her whole body heaving hard against him, her entire being engrossed in the battle for bliss.
Nickie groaned too, but for a different reason.
He was on the verge of explosion. His teeth were clenched, and he was concentrating on every unpleasant thing imaginable. Every tremor of delight that spread waves of rapture along his spine also spread a chill of terror.
He must render her into insensible joy so that she would not rouse the alarm as he escaped from the hospital.
She clutched at his arm. "Listen-there's something I have to tell you," she said. "I can't make it in this position. I've never made it in this position in my whole life. I told you-it's nerves."
Nickie groaned. But he rose to the occasion. He turned on all his emergency love motors full blast. He shoved both her legs tightly together, keeping himself inserted between them.
Then, holding them shut, his hands planted firmly on her pitching buttocks, he went on the wildest possible rampage inside her, his breath coming hard and fast with the effort.
"Oh stop!" she cried. "It's too wonderful! You'll kill me! I can't do it, I tell you!" She began to sob, big tears of frustration running down her cheeks and dampening the pillow.
"You can do it!" Nickie said determinedly. His thighs bobbed madly over her warm, pitching, bare back. His knees dug into the mattress.
"I can't! I can't!" she sobbed. "Oh! Oh-Oh Oh! Eeeee! Ahhhhh! She did it.
The convulsions of her body almost unseated Nickie as she exploded. Her cries rent the air as the most magnificent paroxysm that Nickie had ever witnessed washed over her.
Needless to say, she was completely subdued. Her eyes, glazed and mirroring etheral transport, gazed uncomprehendingly at the ceiling. As if in a trance, her body kept convulsing, the tremors slowly lessening and turning at last into simple shivers. Her teeth chattered and she made no effort to control the sound.
Nickie studied her with a growing feeling of pride. By golly, he'd done a fine job on that one, hadn't he? Footsteps came along the corridor outside.
Good heavens! The doctor! He'd almost forgotten!
Now-what to do with the nurse? Easy-stow her under the bed. He dragged her off the mattress and scooted her underneath. Her heat was still such that she did not seem to feel the coldness of the tile on her naked skin.
He stretched her out on her back. She lay there, still breathing deeply, her face still suffused with happiness. At least, thought Nickie, her teeth had stopped chattering. He was grateful for that.
He hopped back into the bed and pulled the strait jacket around him. A man in a white coat entered. There was a hypodermic in his hand. Through thick glasses he grinned evily at Nickie.
The needle glinted; the doctor poised his hand to pull down the covers. He was enjoying Nickie's discomforture. Suddenly through the air came a soft, belated sigh of bliss. The doctor glanced around in astonishment-The moment was all that Nickie needed. He leaped from the bed and exercised a bit of judo.
The doctor dropped to the floor, the hypodermic still in his hand. Nickie pounced as he struggled to rise. He caught his opponent's wrist, and the doctor emitted a cry of horror as he felt the prick of the fatal needle on his own arm. Nickie jammed down on the plunger and, grabbing his clothes, fled without stopping to watch his would-be murderer die.
Gee, that had been a close one. Thank goodness for sex!
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
A REMATCH IN BED "Hello," said Lila.
Nickie had made his way back to the bungalow Entering, he had found her in one of her new nightgowns. She was looking very desirable and admiring herself in the mirror. A string of black pearls was fastened about her lovely neck.
"You were pretty sure I'd die," Nickie said, pointing to them.
"Oh, not at all," said Lila. "I bought white ones, too. See? I'd have certainly hated it if you had died. We are having such a wonderful honeymoon."
"It's over," said Nickie. 'The honeymoon's over."
"It is?" She frowned. "Oh, but Nickie! I want to stay. We've been invited to come back to Sex Cult Cay anytime we like. Wasn't it fun, Nickie? Of course, you missed the best part, hitting your head the way you did. The count and I were the last ones standing. You'd have never thought that stringy little man had it in him, would you?"
"You mean you just let me lie there and went on partying?" said Nickie. "What kind of wife are you?"
"A sexy one," said Lila, casting a glance into her cleavage. "Anyway I couldn't break up the party, could I? It wouldn't have been polite. The count and I brought you over in a motor launch after the orgy was finished."
"Oh" said Nickie.
"It's no use being angry with me Nickie," Lila said. "Remember the countess fixed us. We'll be together forever. Do you know what the count told me?" She was chattering gaily, obviously in a gossiping mood. "He told me how he came to marry the countess. It was in Port-au-Prince, before they came here. She put a spell on him!"
"Uh-huh," said Nickie. He was packing Lila's clothes.
"Guess what she did! Put three nickels by every bedpost and she put a glass of water under the bed. Then every night for nine nights-one for each month you see-she slept with her legs bent and spread apart. The count said he couldn't help himself. It was magic! Personally, I think it was the legs-oh, Nickie! What are you doing?"
"I'm trying to get you dressed. Here, put these on. Hurry."
"I must say, you're not very amourous this afternoon," Lila grumbled. But she did as she was told. After all, he was a very rich husband.
Before long, they were on a cruise boat that was making its daily run from the Grand Bahama to Miami. "Oh, goodie," said Lila, "roulette!" and she was off to the tables to spend some more of Nickie's money. She was costing the Soviet Union a potful, Nickie thought ruefully.
Nickie himself was too upset to gamble. He had to get back to that message drop on Miami Beach and see just how bad his situation was. He wondered if there were other Soviet agents trying to kill him. Maybe someone on this boat!
"Hi there!"
Nickie jumped. First he saw her naked thighs. His eyes traveled up over her brief sequined outfit to where her breasts overflowed her crammed-full bodice. Oh no! He hadn't thought that this might be the same cruise ship from which he had been forced to jump several days ago. But it was, and here was Mary Lou, whom he had last seen in a stateroom with the naked Angus.
"You owe me something," she said.
"I do?"
"Yes. Two things. You cost me five hundred dollars, because you spoiled my set-up with Angus that night. I'd like to have that, please. But the other thing is more imprtant. You owe me a roll."
"You can have the five hundred," Nickie said, "But I'm afraid I can't manage a roll."
Mary Lou's eyes grew fierce. "Listen," she said. You left me in a terribly pent up state the other night. I simply detest being left unfinished. Now are you going to come across or am I going to call the detective and report you as a thief?"
"Have a heart," Nickie quavered. "I just got out of the hospital this afternoon."
Nickie was still considerably done up from his exertions in behalf of the nurse. But alas, Mary Lou had no heart-She led him to her stateroom.
Nickie drew a deep sigh of resignation and hoped fervently that he had one more go left. Wearily he lifted her breasts and laid them out above the wired cups of her bodice. He kissed one and then the other. Mary Lou wiggled impatiently.
He unzipped her outfit and she gave a sigh of satisfaction as she slipped out of it. She had a really admirable body, Nickie admitted, looking at her naked form. Still, he was not inspired.
But Mary Lou was! His hands and lips on her breasts had aroused her. In fact just being naked in the sameroom with a man aroused Mary Lou-especially if it were a man who had steamed her as thoroughly as Nickie had done at their last meeting. She thought it would improve the situation if Nickie undressed too.
She unbuttoned his shirt and removed that. Next went his trousers and shorts. "Oh gee," she said sadly as she looked at him. Certain parts of him seemed exceedingly droopy. The affair seemed hopeless. But Mary Lou was not a girl to give up easily. No she would just have to fix things, somehow.
She pressed herself against him and wiggled her hips mightily. Nothing happened. She nibbled his ear. She nuzzled his neck. She tickled him with the tips of her breasts.
"Oh, gee whiz," said Mary Lou morosely. She sat down on the bed and put her head in her hands, her breasts dangling down between her arms.
"I am sorry," said Nickie, sitting down beside her.
But Mary Lou had not given up. She had only been thinking. "I do know one thing I could do," she said, and before Nickie could voice an objection, she had leaned over and encompassed his equipment with her mouth. Startled, Nickie fell back on the bed. She went to work eagerly, her tongue flicking over him, her mouth moving in circles.
The sensation was marvelous. Nickie felt himself swelling. Mary Lou felt it too. In fact, she soon had quite a mouthful. She seemed very excited.
Nickie's back arched. It was delicious and somehow very soothing as a change from his other recent endeavors. Nickie would have been content to just lie there and have her minister to him.
But Mary Lou had no use for loafers.
Now that his equipment was mended, he'd have to go to work. She withdrew and pounced atop him, impaling herself. It was pretty nice that way, too, Nicky thought. But quickly she had rolled him over so that she was on the bottom.
"Now let me really have some," she encouraged. "I want to go up like a sky rocket."
"One sky rocket," Nickie muttered, as if recording an order. He plunged up and down, feeling her reverberate with his efforts.
"Gee whiz!" said Mary Lou. "Gee whiz!" Her passion raged out of control. She just had to take the lead herself. She rolled him over again so that she was on top. Her rear moved tempestuously.
She had talent, Nickie thought. He started to compliment her but couldn't. He realized she had stuffed a breast into his mouth.
Suddenly Mary Lou sank onto his chest and lay still. For a moment he thought that she had simply reached her peak. Then he felt something wet on his hand that was clasped around her back. Blood! She had been shot.
She wasn't dead yet, though. Her eyes flickered open one last time as Nickie rolled her over.
"Oh, gee whiz," said Mary Lou.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
FINGERS MOVED AGAINST HOT FLESH
"I hate you! I don't care if I never see you again!"
"It'd suit me just fine if you didn't!" Nickie yelled. He and Lila were having their first quarrel. It had all started when they had returned to Nickie's suite in the Tropic Sands Hotel.
Lila had wanted him to fulfill his erotic duties. Nickie was green-faced. He had collapsed on the bed and refused to budge. He had also taken the precaution of lying face down. The ardor to which Mary Lou had aroused him on the criuse boat had taken his last iota of sexual strength. And after Mary Lou had been murdered, he had thrown her overboard, an endeavor which had made him extremely seasick.
It had not helped either to think that probably the bullet had been intended for him.
Nickie had refused to make love until Lila had shed tears. He had let her cry herself to sleep. Now it was morning, and he was not going to make love. Resolutely, he had kept his head buried in a pillow while she had jogged her hips and twirled her breasts to lure him. He could not afford to give way. In his present condition, one more go with Lila might kill him, providing, of course, that an assassins bullet didn't do the job first.
It was the first time in Lila's life that an able-bodied man had failed to submit to her charms. She was irate. She announced that she was going shopping and that when she got back he'd better have it mustered.
Nickie was glad to see her go. As soon as she had left, he hopped out of bed and tore down to the palm tree where his contacts were to leave him messages. Frantically, he dug into the sand. The beer can appeared. The message told him he was an utter idiot.
Look what a mess he'd made: First, getting married and then winding up at an orgy with his bride instead of murdering her as he should have. However, the Executive Action Division still preferred annihilating Lila to annihilating Nickie. The bullet that had killed Mary Lou had really been intended for Lila. If only he would stay in bed with the right woman, such mistakes wouldn't happen!
He was instructed to stay out of the arms of any woman except his wife. (Or get shot for disobeying orders, the implication was.) There was one other thing. Why the hell hadn't he killed the American agent who was watching him? He'd been instructed to do so.
Nickie went back to his penthouse and got back into bed. He ordered breakfast sent up and cursed the stupidity of his contacts. Couldn't they just tell him who the American agent was?
He groaned and pulled the covers over his head. He was not really cut out to be a spy, he thought.
Crash! Nickie jerked himself erect. What was that? It had come from the closet! Cautiously he approached, gun in hand, and slid the door open.
A rack of expensive alligator shoes had been turned over. Across it lay a lovely female leg, struggling to extricate itself from the heap. Nickie push-ed back the hangers. A pair of big, black eyes looked at him resentfully from a heart-shaped face framed by short dark curls.
"You don't even remember me!" she accused.
"Certainly I do," said Nickie. She did look familiar. Where had they met?
"I'm Kay," she supplied wrathfully. "I'm the girl you left naked in the laundry cart. I've come for my clothes."
"Oh," said Nickie. He was uneasy. He remembered what a violent eruption he had caused her. Had she come for another one as well as her clothes? "Are clothes all you came for?" he said.
"Absolutely!" she shot him a look of contempt that made it clear how she felt about him.
Thank goodness, thought Nickie. He got into the closet with her and started rummaging for the dress. The sooner she found it and got out of here, the better.
Her breasts grazed his shoulder. They were big, warm breasts.
Nickie did not know what happened to him. It must have been reflex action. Maybe he was cracking up. Maybe he imagined himself back in spy school. At any rate he brought his fingers lightly across her bosom, caressing each breast just on the tip in a classic maneuver which, when expertly performed, no woman could resist.
Kay did not fry to resist. She utttered a sigh of rapture and slid the door shut. Nickie was plunged into darkness. He could hear her panting.
"Come on, Nickie," she called. "Come to Kay. You smarted it. You can't get out of it now"
Nickie realized it was the truth. A pang of terror shot through him. The Executive Action Division had ordered him not to make love to anyone but Lila.
But Kay was a more immediate threat, he thought. He caught sight of her now. She was crawling on all fours, tiger-like, and shaking her curls like a mane. Her big breasts had been lifted from her bodice and hung like two small-sized pumpkins.
He gulped and tried to slide open the door. The movement served simply to pinpoint his whereabouts to Kay. Nickie felt slender fingers on the buttons of his shirt. He felt plump buttocks descend onto his stomach and begin to rotate gently. He was kissed. The kisses rained down over his chest and tickled his belly button. Nickie's blood started to pound in his ears.
Was she going to unzip his pants and keep on kissing? He craned himself upward in eagerness. His zipper came down. Her warm fingers went inside. They flicked over him, then closed around him, squeezing.
But by this time, Nickie didn't need to be squeezed. He needed to do some squeezing himself. He proceeded to her bottom, unzipping her dress as he did so. Kay wriggled out of it. Nickie just plain wriggled with anticipation.
His hand went into her panties. He smoothed her soft curls and then moved slowly over her upper thighs to the hot desire between them. His fingers moved against the hot flesh.
"Oh!" Kay could not prevent herself from crying out. There was one good thing about Kay, Nickie mused. Unlike the nurse, he bet Kay could make it in any position. All right, he told himself, it was a bet. How about standing up?
He scrambled to his feet and pulled her up against him. "What?" said Kay indignantly. He silenced her with a long kiss, during which he arranged himself so that he was knocking at the entry to her delights.
Kay's legs parted. She sighed deeply, and her hand went down to help him in. She wasn't the least disconcerted by the unusual position, any more than she had been by performing the act sitting up in the laundry cart. She was a very versatile woman.
Her breasts crushed his chest. The nipples were hard, ripe with passion. Her arms streaked around his neck. Her legs kept wrapping themselves around him and slipping down his thigh. It was as if he were a tree she was trying to climb.
Suddenly she stopped clmbing and began to rotate her hips wildly. The effect electric.
He redoubled his own efforts. "Oh" cried Kay. Involuntarily, she was sucking in her breath, her chest expanding to the bursting point with the tension of her passion. Her stomach trembled. Then it heaved. It heaved again and again as the spasms of joy rolled over her.
"Ahhhh," Nickie heard her say, and a wind of suddenly released breath gusted by his ear.
Nickie gave a groan and his eyes squeezed shut as he, too experienced the overwhelming sensation. His knees gave. He and Kay sank to the floor in a heap.
"Here it is" said Nickie after a moment. "What?"
"The dress I took off you in the laundry cart."
"Oh-And where's my other one? The one you took off me just now"
"Umm-here. Now will you go?"
"Certainly," said Kay with a return of her old hauteur. She plumped up her bosom with dignity and arranged the magnificence in the bodice of her dress. A short search produced her panties, which Kay refused to leave without. The closet door opened and Kay emerged, daintily applying a new coat of peach-colored lipstick.
When Nickie ceased to think of Kay, his thoughts turned once more to Lila. She had had the suite just underneath his. Along with her friend Sam. It was certainly an advantageous room to have if you wanted to spy on whoever was occupying the penthouse. Could Sam be an agent? An American agent?
It would take only a few minutes to bug the room. Nickie put on his silk bathrobe and went to the balcony. He swung down to the balcony below and entered the suite by the glass balcony door. He bugged the place and then left by the front door. He rode up the one flight in the elevator.
Nickie had been back in his room only a minute or so when there was a rap on the door. It was his breakfast at last, Nickie thought. He had certainly worked up an appetite for it. He opened the door.
"Hello I intercepted the maid with your breakfast and brought it up myself" said the beautiful, busty blonde.
"Honey Milch!" Nickie said in astonishment She was wearing a jersey pullover, tight beachcomber pants and sandals. She didn't seem to be wearing a brassiere under the pullover and Nickie saw her nipples swelling against the cloth, becoming grape-sized, just as they had the night he had first met her on the beach.
Nickie thought it boded ill. She had ideas, he told himself. Honey put the tray down on a table and poured herself a cup of coffee in a champagne glass. She sighed deeply and looked unhappy. The spy munched a doughnut and waited for her to speak.
"You're married," she said sadly.
"Yes," Nickie said.
"I wish I weie married" said Honey. "I want to quit surfing and just be a sexy old wife."
"You're a sexy surfer," Nickie offered.
"It's not enough," she sniffed. "I don't see why you couldn't have married me." Nickie watched her breasts bobble. He studied the outline of her pants. "Will you give me a goodbye roll, anyway?" Honey said.
"Oh sure" said Nickie. "Let's see-there's cinnamon here and sesame see-"
"Oh, not that kind of roll!" she interrupted with a wail. "Listen! Let's go down to the beach and I'll give you a surfing lesson. That way you'll have a perfect excuse for your wife!"
"But-" said Nickie. Honey had anticipated resistance. Quickly she hoisted up her pullover and let her bounty spill forth. She leaped from her chair, shoving him onto the bed. His robe parted and she pressed her hot globes against his bare chest. She sighed into his ear. She lifted a breast and brushed it across his lips. Then she got up slowly. Nickie followed her, his mouth half open for a bite of her fruit.
But Honey was playing the old carrot in front of the horse trick. She lowered her jersey. "You don't get anymore until we get to the beach," she said, handing him his shirt.
"All right," sighed the titillated Nickie, and followed her out the door.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
SHE WAS TURNED ON....
Lila came into the suite. She wasn't mad at her husband anymore. Shopping had restored her good humor.
Lila loved spending money. She loved it more than anything else in the world except love.
"Nickie! Nickie-poo?"
Nickie was gone. But how strange! She heard voices.
"Oh, sugar," a girl was saying, "Oh, do put it in! Please hurry!"
"I will! I will!" came the man's voice. "Just stop slapping your thighs together and I will!"
The popping sound of the eager thighs ceased. There was silence. The moment was electric! Lila waited breathlessly.
"Ooooooh!" came the sound of the girl's voice. The entry had obviously been wonderful.
Lila rushed into the bedroom. No one was there. She looked under the bed, in the closet. "Oh, baby!" the man was saying, "what a furnace you are!"
Lila stopped searching and stood stock still. Anger showed in her violet eyes. She recognized that voice! That man who was evoking such cries of joy from his partner was none other than Sam! Sam, Who couldn't even wave it around-or so he'd told her. Nickie's bugging device was picking up the sounds from the suite below.
Lila charged out of the door. She was so furious she ran down the stairs to Sam's suite instead of waiting for the elevator. She beat with both fists on his door, for hell had no fury like Lila.
He came to the door in a bathrobe. He was panting slightly, Lila thought. "Lila, darling!" he cried.
"Don't Lila darling me!" she demanded. "Where is that woman?"
"What woman?"
"The one that was slapping her thighs and saying 'Oooh!' That's what woman! I heard you from upstairs."
"But I'm here all alone sweet," said Sam.
Lila looked around. "Well," she said, "I don't see anybody." But there was a test she had to make. She reached forward and untied the slash of his robe. The robe parted.
"Oh," said Lila. Sam had proved to be a ready lover.
Sam yanked the robe back around him and tied the cord in a double knot. "Lila," he said. "Now don't get upset, Lila." He was backing away from her. "I never intended to lie to you. But it was so easy. You were so sure that any man in his right mind would make love to you if he possibly could that you never checked before. Actually, every time I get near you I get so wrought up I can hardly stand it"
"Well, then, why? Why did you tell me you couldn't make love?"
"Please, Lila," he shined, "I'm afraid of you-You've got those two huge breasts and those thighs-and-you're more woman than anyone I've ever seen! You just ooze sex! I was afraid that if I made love to you, I'd just-dissolve or something! I thought I might be so done in, I wouldn't be able to muster it again for months! Even years! Don't, Lila! Oh please don't!"
But he pleaded in vain. Lila was ready for a man, and her husband was gone for the moment. She moved toward Sam. Her hips waved. There was the sound of a zipper being undone.
Lila's dress descended slowly to the floor. Sam sat woodenly on the bed, staring at her. He seemed to be in some sort of hypnotic trance. She unhooked her bra and let that fall, too. Her hand went to her panties.
"Don't!" Sam gave one last cry as the garment began to move down her pulsating thighs. Sam's eyes riveted on her erotic triangle of soft brown curls. It was oscillating. Sam could not tear his eyes away. He saw her coming toward him. Even as she approached he fell back on the bed as if he had been flattened by a hurricane force.
Lila rose on tip-toe. Her thighs tensed. She raised her arms and the awesome breasts jutted forward, perfectly erect. She looked like an eagle, ready to pounce on its victim.
She fell, impaling herself perfectly with one swoop. She needed no wiggling, no foreplay, no searching. Sam felt as if he had been cast into a smoldering volcano. He struggled under her, his whole being suffused with the glory of her. Lila's heat seemed to increase with every movement he made.
Lila's rear twitched and twisted contentedly, as the overwrought Sam clasped his hands around it, pressing hard to force himself even farther inside her.
"Ahh," breathed Lila.
"Oooh!" groaned Sam.
But something happened to spoil the idyll. Maybe there was a sound. Maybe they both got that funny feeling that someone was watching them. At any rate they both looked up.
Beyond the bedroom was a small room that served as storage-a place for keeping cartons of extra champagne glasses, tins of imported delicacies, anything that a partying bon vwant might likely require.
In the doorway stood a girl. A very naked girl. A girl who, Lila reasoned, was the same one whose thighs had been so noisy a short time ago. Sam's playmate was not noisy now. She just stood there, a strange expression fixed on her face. She looked resentful, Lila thought.
Then slowly, slowly, she toppled forward, landing face down on the carpet. There was a knife in her back!
Lila screamed. After the echoes of her scream died away, she immediately composed herself. "Golly," she said. "What are ,we going to do with the body, Sam? We could get into trouble over this"
"Yeah," Sam agreed. "Like, we could get accused of murder. I know. Let's not get involved. Let's put her in the dumbwaiter. That way, it'll be sort of like a game of roulette. Whoever calls the dumbwaiter next will find her, and he'll have to notify the police."
"Good idea," said Lila. They carried the girl back into the storage room and stuffed her into the dumbwaiter. They closed the door.
"There," said Sam, "that's done."
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
ON A SURF BOARD....
Honey and Nickie were far out in the water, behind the waves that were cresting and breaking shoreward.
"Aren't you going to teach me to hang ten?" said Nickie. They were sitting on Honey's surfboard, their legs dangling into the water. Honey was in back, leaning against Nickie. He could feel her breasts pushing against him.
Honey giggled. "Not today," she said.
"Good," said Nickie. I'd be terrified to even try to stand up on this thing."
"You don't have to. But let's ride just one wave. So you can tell your wife about it."
"Well, okay," said Nickie. "If you insist." He was still hungry for a nibble of her luscious goodies.
"You just lie flat," Honey told him. I'll do all the work." She crouched on the board. "Here it comes! Ready!" The board surged forward. Honey was on her feet.
Quickly it was apparent that she was an expert. She stayed right in the white water. The foam rose over her, cascading above her bent back so that they were in the tunnel of the wave. Gracefully, unconcernedly, Honey walked the board. She stood goofy-foot.
Nickie was choking. He pulled at her leg. She grinned down at him. "Want to shoot the pier?" she said as she slid off the board.
"No," said Nickie.
"Good," said Honey. "But there is one maneuver you should know." They paddled out again. Honey lay down on the board, face to the sun. Her legs dangled into the water. She held out her arms. Nickie sank into them happily, unclasping her bikini top and helping himself to a bite of the contents.
"Now listen closely," Honey said. "You see, the main problem with copulation on a surfboard is balance. Many's the pair that haven't gone about things right and wound up having their ardor dampened by the Atlantic itself."
"I see," said Nickie. He was exploring now beneath her bikini bottom. It was very nice inside Honey's suit, and her breasts tasted nice, too. They tasted salty. Nickie wondered if perhaps the salt didn't improve the flavor. Or maybe it was just because he had such an appetite already.
Honey was squirming now under his caresses-Nevertheless, she went on to complete her lecture. "My legs hanging into the water balance us. And it's very convenient, too. I hang one leg over each side of the board, which makes my thighs spread wide apart. You have an easy target."
"Uumm," said Nickie. He squeezed her cool rear, inside the suit. Then he moved aside the cloth of the bathing suit so that he could put his lips over the growing turbulence that was between her legs.
Honey's hips rose. The board tiltled crazily. Nickie dropped his legs over beside Honey's to steady it. "Sorry about that," said Honey. "I'm not too good at this, actually. Bruce won't even do it with me out here. He thinks it's dangerous. I always get all hot and turn us over."
Nickie felt her fingers on the zipper of his suit.
None too soon, either, he thought. He was ready and waiting when his suit fell open.
"Ah," said Honey. Quickly, Nickie fell to the task at hand. Honey's arms were around his neck. He could hear water splashing as she kicked, helpless with passion. "More," said Honey, "More!"
Nickie began moving hurriedly to satisfy her. The surfboard lurched under his efforts. Suddenly he felt cool wet water dripping down his back. Legs wrapped around him. Heels beat against his rear, urging him onward.
"Oh, Nickie, isn't it marvelous! Don't you just love sex in the open air! Don't you just love the sea! Ohhh!" She wiggled, she writhed. The surfboard careened with her every movement.
"Honey, stop it!" Nickie commanded. He might as well have commanded the sun not to rise. Honey was as out of control as a windmill in a cyclone. Her nails dug into his back. Her heels banged so hard that Nickie was sure he was going to have bruises. How was he going to explain those bruises to Lila?
"Honey! Remember our balance! Put your legs back in the water!"
"On no, it's too cold! And I'm soooo hot! Oh, Nickie, this is good! Oh, Nickie! Aaaaaaaagh! The board's nose catapulted downward. The rear shot up. It hovered, then it went over. The lovers uncoupled, hitting the water with two separate splashes.
Nickie surfaced. "Honey?" he called. He didn't see her anywhere. He dived beneath the surface to look for her. His hand connected with a plump bosom. Thank goodness, he'd found her. But something was wrong. This bosom still seemed to be contained in a swim suit. And he knew that Honey's was not. He had taken it off her himself and, besides, he had just seen it floating buoyantly over the crest of a wave. There had been foam rubber in the cups. Honey believed in gilding the lily.
Unthinkingly Nickie kept squeezing the breast while he tried to make sense out of the matter. There was no foam rubber in this suit, he discovered. Only heaps and heaps of real, honest-to-gosh girl. But what girl?
Lila? No, these breasts weren't as big as Lila's. Nobody's breasts were that big. Still, these were the size of, well, small pumpkins.
Kay! She rose from the water, peering at him from behind a face mask. Obviously, Nickie shouldn't have been fooling around with her bosom, he saw. He'd aroused her; he could tell that by the look in her eyes. Kay had very sensitive breasts.
Nickie had no idea what she'd been doing under Honey's surfboard but he had a good idea what she was going to do now. She was going to tell him that he had started it, and he was going to finish it. And naturally, he'd have to do it. Nickie didn't know why it was that he always managed to get Kay aroused, especially when he wasn't trying.
Kay lifted her mask. "Come on," she said philosophically. "One must do what one has to do"
Nickie was treading water steadily. Kay kept slipping under the surface, swallowing great gulps of sea water and coming up again. Probably, thought Nickie, it was hard to tread water when you had throbbing thighs.
"I can't go yet," he told her. "I've lost someone. Maybe she's drowned."
"I don't see anyone," said Kay, "and I just can't wait. Either you come ashore with me right now, or I'll come over there and I'll-I'll-"
"No, no" said Nickie hastily. He knew what she meant, and he had no doubt that she would do it. This morning she had made it standing up and she had also accomplished glory in a cramped laundry cart. Position apparently had no effect on her libido. "I'd much sooner do it on dry land" said Nickie.
"Umm, me too. On the beach. I can be getting my sun tan at the same time."
When they got ashore, Kay sat down in the sand and looked at Nickie expectantly. They were on a little half-moon beach of white sand surrounded on three sides by palm trees and thick clumps of palmetto.
"Well?" said Nickie.
"I'm waiting for you to tell me how we're going to do it this time," said Kay eagerly.
"Oh you suggest something. I decided last time."
"Oh, I always like whatever you choose" Kay said magnanimously. "Only hurry up." She inserted her thumb in her bikini bottom and peered inside it. Nickie wondered if she were letting a little cool air on the heat inside. Maybe she was just admiring the bikini's contents. Seemingly satisfied, Kay discontinued the inspection and let the tiny garment pop back into place. She drew in a deep breath and her bosom rose. Her lovely ribcage came into view. Nickie watched in fascination. "Let's see" he said. We've done it sitting and standing up-"
"How about backwards?" said Kay.
"No," said Nickie "I've done that just recently."
"How about me on top?"
"I've done that, too."
"All fours? Legs together? Legs in the air?"
"No" said Nickie.
"Golly, said Kay, her eyes widening. "This is terrible. There doesn't seem to be a single sexual variation you haven't tried! There isn't a thing in the whole sexual panorama that you haven't done! There's nothing new for you to do."
"True," said Nickie sadly, "Now I know how Daniel Boone must've felt when the frontier gave out."
"It's just dreadful," Kay agreed.
"Surely there must be something!" He was Ben Gazarra asking the doctor if there wasn't some chance. Nickie was feeling dreadful. He had almost forgotten his interest in Kay's bikini bottom.
"I've thought of something!" she cried.
"Really? What?"
"We could do it standing up backwards," she said, her eyes brightening.
"Oh," said Nickie. "But that's really just a combination of two things. I've already done. Ifs not really new."
"It's better than nothing isn't it?" said Kay. She put her arms behind her head and flexed her bosom at him lewdly.
Nickie agreed. He reached over and put his hand into her bodice. He reached for the buttons. The bra came away, and her two golden globes lay at his fingertips.
He pushed her down in the sand. She stretched again and this time Nickie did something he had wanted to do the first time. He kissed the outline of every rib, working up to her breast planting a row of little bites on its underswell.
She sighed. 'Take off the bottom now," she murmured. He did feeling her squirm her twin cupcake mounds into the palms of his hands as he did so.
He ran his lips down her quivering stomach-down her thighs. "Well" he said, "I suppose it's time to stand up." He seized her under the armpits and yanked her to her feet.
He turned her around. He inserted a knee between her legs and pried her thighs apart. "Ready-o? Here I come!"
"Oh! Ah! Eee!" said Kay. She was giggling and groaning with passion at the same time. Nickie's arms were around her, crushing her bosom in his embrace He kissed her neck.
"That tickles," Kay gasped. "Oh, stop it, Nickie!" But he didn't stop. She giggled. Her thighs jiggled; her stomach jiggled. Altogether it was extremely pleasing. But it was a shame that this wasn't really anything new. It pleased Kay to give men thrills they'd never experienced before. He was afraiH she wouldn't enjoy herself fully.
"Hey!" said Nickie. "I have an idea. There's a barrel over there."
"You mean get inside it-like going over Niagara Falls?"
"No," said Nickie.
Kay was mystified. He led her to the barrel and sat her down on it.
"Now" he said, "you might say I have you over a barrel."
Kay giggled again. She was in a mood for thinking anything was funny.
"Battle stations," said Nickie, and posted himself at the gateway to her delights.
"Don't fire till you see their bosoms!" said Kay and shrieked with laughter. "Whee! Oh! Oh, Nickie, this is better than a roller-coaster!"
Nickie was rolling the barrel back and forth, causing himself to be drawn up and down over Kay's velvety road of joy. Kay's thighs worked eagerly as she worked with him to move the barrel.
"Wheel" said Kay. She thought it the most original method she'd ever experienced. But suddenly Nickie became too aroused to stand it any longer. He lunged, and they both shot over the barrel, landing with a hard thud on the sand.
Kay had the wind knocked out of her. It was a most unfortunate time for it, since she was on the verge. "I surrender!" she gasped. "I surrender, Nickie!" And then she did just that taking Nickie with her.
When Kay regained her sense, she manifested a typical phenomenon of females after love. "Nickie," she said, "don't you think I'm better than any woman you've ever had? Don't you think I'm sexier? Don't I do it better?"
"Well-" said Nickie. He had quite a number of conquests to think over. But actually, the answer was quite clear to him. It was Lila that did it better than anyone. Lila, his wife, she of the mountainous breasts and the flat, golden prairie stomach. He sighed.
Kay was wrathful. "I know darn well I do it better than that silly Mary Lou," she told him. "Why that girl had a terrible time just getting you worked up!"
"Umm," said Nickie. Then suddenly he tensed. Things were falling into place. Mary Lou! She was the girl who'd been shot in the cabin of the cruise boat. And the only person who could have known what had been going on in that cabin at the time of the murder was the murderer himself! Herself!
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
THE MASTER LOVER....
Kay was the murderer!
"You shot Mary Lou" Nickie accused.
Kay smiled. "Yes," she admitted. "I didn't intend to, you know. Thought it was that fat wife of yours."
"Lila is not fat!" protested Nickie.
"Well, anyhow I'm sorry about Mary Lou, though I don't really think it's any great loss to mankind. Just a mistake. Just awhile ago I made another boo boo too. There was a girl in the suite below yours, making out with that Sam character whose room you bugged. I was hiding in the dumb waiter trying to sneak back into your room and look around a bit, when your wife went tearing down there like the devil had her.
"Naturally, I saw she was a jealous woman and that's a perfect set-up for murder. So I lowered myself down there. I was going to kill Lila and then let Sam or his girl friend take the blame"
Nickie's heart sank. "You mean Lila's dead?" he asked.
"No," said Kay. "I told you I goofed. Really, though, it wasn't my fault this time. That stupid girl of Sam's opened the door to the dumbwaiter and saw me. She was going to scream. I absolutely had to stab her. Not that I really feel too bad about that, either. In my profession you don't really think much about things of that sort."
Her profession? For the first time Nickie realiz-ed what that profession must be. Her job was to murder Lila! And that job had been assigned to a member of the dreaded Executive Action Division! He had been warned not to get in the sack with girls, and he had bedded down with the serpent itself!
For all he knew, her orders might now include his own assassination!
Kay saw the look on his face and knew he had realized her identity. Her smile tightened. "Comrade Nicholas Mravinsky!" she said. "As a master lover, you're quite passable. But as a spy-" She shook her head.
"You couldn't even kill the American agent by yourself. I had to do it for you!"
"But who?"
"Honey Milch, of course. You didn't think that the surfboard turned over by accident? I pushed it! I'm sure it hit her on the head. She'd have drowned by now of course!"
"But" Nickie could hardly believe that poor Honey was a secret agent. Poor Honey who never learned to grunt only once. Honey, whose mother thought she was studying to be a dental assistant.
"Fool!" said Kay. "She was a member of the Beach Brigade. Didn't you learn about them in spy school?"
Nickie shook his head. He could only reason that he had spent too much time mastering the fine art of love-making.
"It's because of Cuba, naturally," Kay explained. "Now that Cuba is on our side the shores have to be patrolled. But the businessmen were afraid that too many G-men hanging around would scare off the tourists. They compromised with the Beach Brigade. Actually, it's wonderful for business."
"Every member of the Beach Brigade is a highly-trained, extremely capable spy. And every member is a beautiful, bikini-clad girl! Honey was just patrolling the beach the night you came ashore. The circumstances under which you arrived were, to say the least, suspicious. So she kept you under surveillance."
"She lost track of you when you went to the Bahamas on your honeymoon. That was why she showed up this morning-to try to learn what subversion you might have accomplished during that time"
No matter. She's dead now. And from here on out, Nickie after we get Lila killed, do stay out of trouble!"
But more trouble was on the way. The palmettos rustled and Honey stepped out, holding a gun. Nickie stared. He stared at the gun, but he also stared at the girl. She was still minus her bra. She held the gun in front of her, so that it was flanked on each side by the admirable breasts.
Kay said something conventional about how Honey was supposed to be dead. Honey said it had been very interesting to listen to Nickie and Kay's conversation.
She also said it had been most instructive to watch the other proceedings. She would have to try it sometime herself. She had almost split laughing when Kay and Nickie had fallen over the barrel.
Well, too bad, she was going to have to turn them over to the F.B.I. Curtains, Comrades Nickie and Kay.
Nickie was thinking. He had much to think about. It was the end of his career-the end of the borrowed time he had received in Moscow. What a shame! And he could have made a success of his mission, too! He didn't even need to give any more psychological tests.
What did Soviet propaganda lack? Joyful labor-turbines-healthful mudbaths-what they lacked was-undoubtedly, naturally, certainly-SEX! Could it be that if the leaflets were spiced up-? But Nickie would never know whether his theory was correct. Honey had the drop on them.
A figure came up the beach behind Honey. A man's figure. He stopped and seemed to contemplate Honey. He was trying to tell whether or not her bra was really missing. Yes, by heaven, it was! The sight excited him tremendously.
He broke into a run and grabbed her from behind, his hands closing over the ample globes of her breasts.
"Eeee!" cried Honey. Her aim was jerked away from Nickie and Kay.
"Bam!" A shot went skyward.
"Oh, stop it Bruce!" said Honey. "Not now! You always want to do it at the wrong time!"
Nickie and Kay ran for it. Bam! Another shot went skyward.
But this time it hit something. A cocoanut was severed from the crown of a palm tree. It catapulted downward and connected with Kay's head. Curtains for Comrade Kay, assuredly. She was dead.
Nickie was still free. He had one chance of escaping Honey's bullets. He had brought his diving gear with him on his outing with Honey. Had thought he might do a stunt or two to impress her. If he could get into it, he could exit the way he'd come!
Honey wouldn't be able to follow him far without equipment.
He struggled into it. Soon he was far out in the blue water of the Atlantic Ocean. He swam deep down among schools of shining fish. He was far a-way from Honey, from Lila, from all other girls, from sex itself. It was a strange place for a master lover to die.
And die here he surely, would, he thought.
Now that he had escaped he had no way of getting ashore, he realized. The Beach Brigade would be alerted. The shore would be lined with beautiful girls waiting to capture him. He didn't have a chance.
Nickie surfaced. He thought he would like to look at the sky just one more time.
"Hello! Say, what're you doing down there?" Nickie had come up by the side of a small yacht.
"I'm only taking a swim," Nickie called back.
"Well, you'd better get aboard now, you're going to miss all the fun! You are one of us, aren't you?"
"Certainly," said Nickie, who had no idea who they were.
"Good! I'll put down the ladder and you can come aboard."
Nickie came. There were a dozen or so men and women on the yacht. They were all wearing gear similar to Nickie's. They were rainwear enthusiasts, he discovered. They got their kicks by dressing up in rubber outfits. Nickie could not figure it.
But they figured him. The girls kept coming up and stroking him and telling him he was sexy. Nickie got himself a double martini and sat in a corner, trying to be inconspicuous.
It was after dark when the yacht docked in Miami. Nickie went ashore among the cultists. He was safe among them, just one more kook after a few kicks.
Ashore once more, Nickie decided it might have been better if the cruise had lasted longer. Maybe a year or so. He was in a bad spot. He had flubbed up his mission continually, and his latest crime had been getting Kay killed. She had apparently been a residentura, an agent whose life was highly valued by his country. They would never let him go home to Russia, and of course, he would never be safe in America.
Nickie had been thinking about Lila. It seemed so long ago that he had buried his head in the pillow and refused to let her arouse him. So long ago that he had told her he didn't mind if they never saw each other again. He wished he hadn't done that He wished he hadn't left her unsatisfied. He wished they might have just one more time in bed together.
Wouldn't it be fine if he could sneak back into the hotel and ease her need? He imagined her lying on the bed, her peach-colored negligee open. Her bosom would be pointing ceilingward. One hand would be cupped lightly over her best delight, as if to hide from the world the need she felt there.
She would be sipping champagne. Nickie could almost imagine the bubbles tickling her nose as she took the glass and swallowed the rest of its warming contents. Her thighs, which had been lying close together would part--
Oh, but what nonsense! The hotel would be guarded, of course. But maybe he could sneak in the back way!
Before long Nickie was in the basement of the Tropic Sands Hotel. It was the same place he had been the night he had first been overcome by Lila's magnificent bosom and fallen into the pool from his balcony.
But this time Nickie did not take the freight elevator. He had a better idea. The dumbwaiter. He called it and got on.
As he pulled himself up, he noticed that there was another dumbwaiter on its way down in the same shaft. There was garbage on it. But there was something else on it. Something that did not look like garbage. Wasn't that a big, plump thigh sticking out from that greasy sack?
Wasn't that-Lila?
"Nickie!" she gasped as she saw him. "What on earth are you doing here?"
He countered that he might ask her the same question but she hopped onto his waiter and Nickie forgot Nickie was stroking her breast.
This was what he had come for, he remembered. He would make love and ask questions later. He lifted a breast out of her bodice. He could never resist doing that. He could never resist just holding the big mounds, marveling at the weight.
Lila sighed. She lay down and propped her feet up against the cables of the dumb waiter. Her dress rode up over her wonderful thighs. Her fingers were on Nickie's zipper.
"You know what?" said Nickie. I'm not at all sorry we're married. It's nice to have a wife to do little things like that for you."
"Yes," Lila said, and did still more. She put her hand inside his trousers.
Nickie's lips moved over hers. His hands were everywhere. He exercised every bit of expertise he possessed. Lila squirmed under his touch. He knew just how to play on her stomach to make the muscles quiver and the little hairs stand on end with desire. He knew how to touch her thighs. His lips knew how to kiss her breasts, one, then the other, so that they would be erect, goosepimples on the flanks.
He was going to make this an event to remember!
To remember? Yes, indeedy. For just then someone called the waiter. A door slid open and a middle-aged woman placed a sack of garbage on it, pushing Lila's leg aside to do so.
The woman did a double take. She started to scream, decided not to and slammed the door.
Nickie tried to get back in the mood, but it was impossible. There was sour cabbage in the sack. Nickie had always thought of sour cabbage when he was trying to delay himself during his erotic training at spy school.
"What did you say you were doing here?" asked Lila.
"Running from the law! And you?"
"The same."
"There was a girl in Sam's suite," Lila said. "The police found her body in the dumbwaiter. Right here as a matter-of-fact. They questioned Sam and me."
"But you didn't do it, Lila. Why run?"
"Oh, you're so sweet to believe in me, Nickie!" said Lila.
"It's nothing. I believe a husband should be loyal."
Lila sighed. She pulled her dress down over her thighs. "Oh, Nickie," she said sadly, "you're not my husband."
"What! But the license! Who is your husband if I'm not? Sam? Is Sam your husband?"
"No," said Lila. "Nobody's my husband. I'm not married. Sam was my partner. You see, we had a racket. We'd get millionaires interested in me, and then we'd drug them. When they came to, I'd show them phony marriage documents. That was where Sam came in. He did all the forgeries. Didn't he do a good job on ours, though? You were completely convinced."
"Anyway, after I 'married' the millionaire, I'd spend lots of money and I'd exhaust him sexually and then for a huge settlement, I'd agree to go to Mexico and get a quick divorce."
"And Sam forged the divorce papers, too?" Nickie guessed.
"Right," said Lila. "So you see, even if I beat the murder rap, there's extortion-fraud-all sorts of things! Oh, Nickie, whafll I do?"
"How should I know?" said Nickie. He was extremely put-out with her. He'd thought she cared for him.
She started to cry. "Even if all this hadn't come up, it would have been the end of our racket. Because of you, Nickie. You were the one man I couldn't exhaust! You were the one man that ever really satisfied me! If I ever had had a husband, I'd have wanted him to be just like you! Remember what fun we had, Nickie? On our honeymoon?"
"Yes," said Nickie. He had forgiven her. "Remember how you pretended to be the shy bride and I had to tell you everything I was going to do to you?"
She giggled. "Yes, and remember how I almost drowned and the lobster bit my rear while we were making love? And best of all, the orgy on Sex Cult Cay?"
"Mmm," said Nickie. "I remember it all!"
"Nickie! That's it! Come on! This cabbage is making me sick!"
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
LONGING FOR A MAN....
Honey Milch had put in a long night. She had looked everywhere for Comrade Nicolas Mravinsky. Once again the moon was high, just as it had been on the night when Nickie had walked out of the sea wearing, under his diving gear, a tuxedo and a slightly wilted pink carnation. Now Honey was strolling once more along Miami Beach. A man came out of the night and paused beside her.
"Honey, darling," Bruce said. And he kissed her, easing his hand into the cup of her bikini bra. Honey decided she deserved a break from spying. She led Bruce behind a little hill of sand and allowed him to strip off her suit.
Soon his lips were busy with her nipples. His hands stroked her thighs. Honey's busy little toes went digging frantically into the beach as he sank onto her, as the beautiful sensation of love spread from their joining point to every cell of her body. Honey's hips churned a deep depression into the sand.
Before long, she lurched upward and emitted a long "ahhh," of satisfaction. But later, after he was gone, she lay looking out to sea. She was longing for a man, a man more special than any man she had ever met before. A man who had kissed her, bitten her, made her scream with ecstasy.
Honey shaded her eyes. She had watched this shore many nights. She had seen many waves break and roll back to wherever they had come from. But one of these waves had brought her Nickie.
Maybe someday again there would be another. It was something to dream about.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
ON SEX CULT CAY....
"Oooh! Nickie! Oh, sweet Nickie-poo!" Lila's legs were over her head. Nickie-poo, of course, was between them. They were lying under a palm tree on Sex Cult Cay. The count and countess had been glad to see them return. No one would make a more splendid addition to the group than Nickie and Lila.
After the pair had arrived in a motorboat stolen from a Miami yacht basin, there had been quite a celebration. There was more to celebrate than just the arrival, for Nickie and Lila had detoured by way of Freeport and had been married on Grand Bahama.
The fiery rum had flowed like water. The drums had pounded. There had been games of leap frog all night long.
Sex Cult Cay was a beautiful place. The breeze was soft and warm. The sky was blue, the sea was bluer still, and the sand was a delicate pink. The air brought to the happy couple the sound of laughter and the aroma of broiling lobster. All was right with the world.
Nickie kissed the big, erect nipples of the Mt. Rainier breasts. He felt the pulsating of her thighs. Her legs fell and wrapped around him. He felt her draw in her breath and hold it. He felt her stomach tighten. She was going and he knew he was going too.
Over they went, plunging from the heights of excitement into perfect ecstasy.
