Pat Jefferson gave an involuntary cry of surprise as the plane on which she was stewardessing hit an air pocket, lurched to one side and sent her careening off balance into the lap of one of the passengers.
"Easy, easy!" exclaimed the well-dressed man, holding out his hands both to give support to Pat and to try-though it was already too late-to protect himself from the container of coffee which had landed in his lap along with the pretty young hostess.
Pat tried to haul herself back to her feet. "I'm terribly sorry," she apologized, a bit flustered.
"Quite all right," said the man, helping her up with a friendly smile. "I wanted coffee anyway."
"But not all over you." Pat grinned, grateful that the man didn't intend to make a scene and embarrass her in front of the other passengers.
"Well...." said the man. He pulled a brightly-colored handkerchief from the breast pocket of his suit and began sopping up the tan liquid.
"Here, let me do that," said Pat. She grabbed a handful of napkins from her pocket and joined in to help.
As she did so, her mind kept snapping photographs of the man, first from one angle, then from another. By the time she had cleaned up the mess she had made, Pat had a composite picture engraved in her head-and it was an attractive one indeed.
Though seated, the man was plainly tall, and even the slightest movement he made suggested a panther-like strength and gracefulness. He wore well-tailored, modern clothing, his shoes were narrow, dark brown and impeccably shined, and his tie was as brightly-colored as his handkerchief, suggesting a defiant carefreeness that Pat liked. His face was tanned handsomely, with a jaw so strong and severe it was almost sharp. His nose, too, was straight and somwhat narrow, but the entire assemblage was softened by the eyes.
Liquid brown and surrounded by soft brown eyebrows, those eyes, thought Pat, told everything about the man. He was strong and rugged, yet gentle. He was highly intelligent, yet, as a twinkle around the corners of his eyes suggested, he didn't take himself too seriously. And-perhaps most important of all-the eyes told Pat that he found her attractive too and wouldn't mind getting to know her.
Which suited her just fine.
"I'll be back in a second," she told him.
"Fine," he said, with a friendly smile that seemed to radiate warmth for several yards in all directions.
Pat hurried to the front of the plane. She felt all excited and enthusiastic, especially because things hadn't been going so well during the past few weeks, and in this new man, Pat saw the possibility of a breakthrough.
As she poured a fresh cup of coffee, she quickly reviewed her situation. Basically, she had come to the conclusion a few days earlier; the problem was that she had reached a dead end in the area of sex.
Although she enjoyed it greatly, she was unable to achieve satisfaction-and this bugged her so much it was driving her batty. Worse, it was threatening to totally destroy her relationship with Tom, the young man she loved so deeply and wanted to marry.
Actually, she rationalized to herself as she walked-carefully this time-back to the handsome passenger she'd just met, it was Tom's fault, in a sense, that a problem existed in the first place. She'd been perfectly happy in her sexual relations with him, and had been absolutely faithful too, planning to marry him a year from now after he'd finished college, entered law school and she'd saved enough from her stewardess job so that they could make a go of it.
But then Tom had asked her one night if she had fulfillment when they made love. She'd thought about it for a few moments, then answered no. This worried Tom, and he kept nagging her about it, asking her so often that she began to be upset about it, and began wondering if perhaps something were wrong with her. Particularly worrisome was Tom's belief that, if she didn't achieve sexual-satisfaction with him, then eventually she'd be unfaithful to him, and their marriage would be destroyed.
How right he was, she recalled ruefully. For, only a few days after she and Tom had discussed the subject, the pilot of the plane, Captain Richard Brent, had made advances towards her. And Pat, unsure of her womanliness now, had succumbed to them.
She hadn't had gratification with the pilot, either, and as a result-although she had enjoyed the experience tremendously-she came out of it more confused than ever. What had not even been a problem at all a short while ago, had now become a compulsion, for Pat was not thoroughly convinced that Tom had been right: until she was able to have fulfillment with him, she'd never be able to be a loyal wife. And she knew, too, that with Tom it was either be faithful or be gone altogether.
In the back of Pat's mind, as she approached the handsome passenger, the thought was going around that maybe here was the man who'd be able to help her cross that magic line-and thus be able to marry in good conscience the man she loved.
She gave him her prettiest smile and held her body erect in such a way that her firm, well-shaped breasts strained hard against the fabric of her uniform "Hi," she said brightly. "Back again." She grinned provocatively. "Care for some more coffee?"
The man smiled broadly and shook his head. "It's not that I don't like the way you make coffee," he said. "It's your delivery that worries me."
She chuckled, and gave the coffee to the woman a few seats back, for whom it was originally intended. Then she returned to the man. "I'm really sorry about before," she said sincerely. "The company will pay for it, of course."
"Not at all," the man brushed it off. He motioned to the empty seat beside him. "Are you allowed to sit down for a few minutes?" he invited.
Pat glanced about her. The plane, a small, intermediate-distance jet, was only about one-third full, and Maureen Langley, the other stewardess, could handle that number of passengers easily by herself. Unlike the major trunk airlines, McNally Airlines was more liberal about allowing its hostesses to fraternize with the guests.
"Sure," said Pat. She slid in past the man's knees, shivering as they rubbed sensually against the backs of her thighs, and sat down in the window seat.
"My name is Aldo Mitchell," the man introduced himself. "Please call me Aldo."
Pat smiled. "Okay, Aldo. Will do." He grinned at her little rhyme. "You're a poet, I see." Pat shrugged. "Yeah," she said with a laugh. She liked the gentle way he had of teasing her. "What do you do?" she asked.
Aldo looked upward angelically. "You're not going to believe this," he said. "Try me."
"Okay." He looked at her levelly. "I'm a medical researcher."
Pat cocked her head. "What's so unbelievable about that?"
"Oh, there's nothing so strange about that in itself," said Aldo. "What's a little ... well ... unusual, let us say, is the subject matter which I research."
Aldo's face relaxed a little. "I thought you might be ... well, you know, a little uncomfortable."
"Oh, not at all," bubbled Pat. "Why, that's just perfect, because-"
She stopped short.
"Yes?" asked Aldo.
Pat frowned, then smiled. "Well, I guess it's all right o tell you, you being a doctor and all. You might even be able to help me."
"Hold on, now" cautioned Aldo. "I'm not a doctor. I'm merely a researcher. Have you heard of Doctor Hans Reichenbach?"
Pat thought for a second. "No."
"Well, he's the man I work for. He's head of the Reichenbach Institute in Linz, Austria." Aldo smiled. "He's sort of the Kinsey of Europe."
"Gee," Pat marveled.
"Anyway," continued Aldo, "I'm his top researcher, and right now I'm visiting various cities in the United States in connection with some of our latest studies. It's really quite interesting."
"It certainly sounds intereting. What are you working on at the moment?"
"Well...." Aldo hesitated for a moment. "Suppose you tell me what your problem is first. You started to a moment ago, remember?"
"Oh yes." Pat shifted in the seat, and smoothed out her skirt, which had been creeping up along her thighs.
Aldo reached out and clasped her hand reassuringly. "Don't be self-conscious," he said. "I've interviewed literally thousands of women about their sexual habits. I won't be shocked or embarrassed by anything you say, so you needn't be either."
Pat smiled, thankful for the words of encouragement.
"Well, you see," she began, "it's not really that much of a problem...." She paused and frowned slightly. "Well, I guess it is quite a problem. I can't seem to have gratification."
"I see," said Aldo.
"I mean, I enjoy sex and all," she explained hastily, not wanting him to think her a cold fish. "But I just can't ... you know ... go past a certain point."
"In other words," said Aldo, "you never get a feeling of, let's say ... complete release during the sexual act."
Pat nodded, pleased at his precise understanding of her difficulty. She felt a persistent fluttering in her stomach, and she wondered whether it was being caused by nervousness at being in the presence of such an important researcher or by excitement by being in the presence of such a virile and magnetic man.
"Well," said Aldo, squeezing her hand, "I must say that your spilling coffee on me was quite a stroke of luck for you." c
"Really?" said Pat, not understanding.
"Absolutely," said Aldo. "You see, the area of study which we just recently completed was the phenomenon of suxual fulfillment in women." He grinned. "It sounds funny, but you might call me something of a sex expert."
Pat giggled.
"But it's true," Aldo went on. "We've studied the subject with more thoroughness than it's ever been studied before. And our main conlusion was that everyone can achieve satisfaction. All that's necessary is to determine what's causing the blockage, remove it, and there you are."
"It sounds awfully simple."
"Well, it's not really that simple," Aldo acknowledged. "And the truth of the matter is that here are a few very rare cases in which the woman is physically unable to achieve gratification. But, in general, the problem is not that great, and the treatment for it is relatively routine."
"Gee," said Pat. "Well ... I mean, how do you do it? What's the treatment? I'd sure like to know, because-" She hesitated once again, lookig into is eyes carefully to see if he was sincere before telling him everything; she decided that he was. "Because," she said, her brow furrowing with concern, "I have this boyfriend ... and if I don't get this problem solved quickly, I think it'll be finished between us."
"I understand," said Aldo. "Quite a common compliccation with this sort of thing."
Pat felt comforted by he fact that she wasn't alone. She was gaining more and more confidence in the tall, bronzed man beside her, the man who, she noted with a shiver, looked more like a champion surfer than one who spent his time with books.
"What I've been trying to do," Pat confided, "is to ... well, have sex with people other than Tom. I thought maybe by doing this I could...." She trailed off, suddenly embarrassed by her admission.
Again, Aldo took her off the hook. "Of course, of course," he said with a careless wave of his hand. "You did just the right thing." He laughed. "Practice makes perfect, you know."
She smiled ruefully. "Not in this case it didn't. Frankly, nothing happened. I mean, I liked it ... but I still didn't achieve satisfaction."
"That's not surprising either," said Aldo.
"But you just said...."
"Right. Practice is absolutely necessary. However, you left out a very important element."
"Oh? What was that?"
Aldo let go of her hand, placed his hand on Pat's stockinged thigh and squeezed it, looking into her eyes with a gaze that, for a moment, looked instinctly unprofessional. Pat felt her blood start to pound in her veins.
"What you need," said Aldo pointedly, "is not merely practice, but practice with the proper guide."
Pat swallowed and began to breathe faster. She didn't need a program to figure out who that guide was going to be.
CHAPTER TWO
"Aldo," she said softly. "Maybe we-"
He silenced her by putting his finger to his lips. Then, looking into her eyes so deeply that Pat felt she was going to be hypnotized by them, he let the weight of his hand rest more fully on her thighs. She shuddered, smiled nervously, and made no move to remove his hand.
Slowly and expertly, he ran his hand over her leg. She kept looking at him, moving her buttocks just slightly closer to his to let him know that she liked what he was doing. In the back of her mind there was a nagging awareness that she was not merely a passenger on the plane, but an employee, and she had responsibilities to attend to. Yet she felt totally helpless, totally controlled, totally in this exciting man's power.
She couldn't quite figure out what it was she felt for him. The feeling was too new. She felt both like an obedient little girl in the presence of a very knowledgeable teacher, and like an inexperienced teenager beside a raw and domineering male. The two sides of Aldo, so seemingly incompatible in one person, combined to make her feel completely disoriented, thoroughly charmed, and an ardent, wide-eyed fan who, at that moment, would have followed him out of the emergency exit and into he wild blue yonder had he demanded it.
Fortunately, his requirements were less exacting. He rubbed his fingers gently along her thighs, and when they involuntarily parted to allow him more room, he smiled and nodded, letting her know that she was reacting just as, so to speak, the doctor ordered.
"What if somebody sees us?" Pat whispered with a grin. He grinned back. "We'll charge them admission," he whispered.
Pat liked the easy way he had about sex. It was going to be fun with him. "You're terrible," she smiled, moving a little closer to show how little she meant it. She reached her hand over the armrest and rested it on his thigh, glancing around first to make sure nobody was watching.
Nobody was. Aldo cocked his head playfully, which Pat thought was delightful in a man of such prominence. "I'm not terrible," he assured her. "I'll be nice to you."
"How nice?" she asked coyly.
He raised his eyebrows and smiled knowingly. "I'll be so nice to you," he responded, his tone somewhere between a promise and a threat, "that it will drive you right out of your mind."
"I can hardly wait," she teased back.
"Then let's not wait," he said pointedly.
She raised her eyebrows inquisitively. "What do you mean?"
"Exactly what I said," Aldo answered. He gave her thigh a final pat, then took her hand and began getting out of his seat, leading her after him.
"I still don't understand," she protested. But she was smiling, and tingling with fun and anticipation. She liked this man enormously. He seemed fantastically sure of himself, and what's more, he was so respectable looking that, even if somebody had noticed him holding her hand, they wouldn't have thought anything of it.
"Just follow me," said Aldo. "Back this way."
Pat held his hand and followed. Moments later, they had reached the rear of the plane, and, since the plane was only partially filled, all of the passengers were now in front of them. Aldo guided Pat into one of the seats.
"Here's what I want you to do," he told her.
"What?" .
"Go back to the front of the plane and let the other stewardess know that you're going to use the restroom for a short while. Tell her you don't feel too well. Can you do that?"
Pat nodded. "Sure."
"She won't mind?"
Pat grinned. "I don't think so. Maureen is ... well, I'm not sure, but I think she swings both ways-you know?"
Aldo nodded. "And she's got her eye on you, is that it?"
"I think so. So I think she'll be agreeable to taking care of things for awhile."
"What about the captain?"
Pat grinned even more broadly. "He won't even know at all. And besides, it wouldn't matter if he did."
"Why-is he out to get you too?"
"Nope," said Pat saucily. "He already has."
And with a toss of her head, she walked up the aisle to make her excuses in advance, while Aldo slipped unnoticed into the tiny restroom in the rear of the plane.
A few minutes later, Pat was back. Shivering with the excitement of the forbidden, she slipped into the restroom and closed the door behind her. 'Hi," she said gaily. "Fancy meeting you here."
"Yeah," said Aldo, reaching around her to lock the door. "Small world, isn't it?"
Pat shrugged. "Small bathroom, at any rate."
She looked around. There was a small, high window through which she could see the deep blue sky and the fluffy white tops of the clouds drifting by below. Otherwise, the room looked pretty much like any other small bathroom. It was clean and neat-thanks partly to her own efforts-and pretty cramped. She leaned back against the stainless steel sink and waited for Aldo to tell her what to do.
He smiled at her. "Now then," he began, as if he were lecturing before a group of students, "as I'm sure you know, sex is a completely natural act. If people didn't have sex, obviously there wouldn't be any people. So the first thing you must accept completely is that there is nothing whatever wrong with the act of sex." Pat nodded.
"Of course," Aldo pointed out, "if you hurt somebody else in the process of engaging in sex with him, then that is wrong. But there is nothing wrong with the sex itself."
Pat nodded again. "That's exactly how I feel."
"Good." Aldo smiled. "I mention that because one of the main obstacles which prevent a woman from attaining release is a belief that there is somthing dirty about sex. This is the first incorrect idea which must be erased."
"I see." Pat grinned. "Well, I don't think I have that problem."
"I don't think you do either. But I want to take this step by step to be sure we don't leave anything out."
"Okay." Pat felt very good inside; she had utter confidence in this man, and she felt that she was finally on the way toward solving her problem. She also found it amusing how he could switch back and forth so easily, one moment being overpoweringly masculine, the next being simply incredibly interesting-as he was being now.
"All right," said Aldo. "I agreed that that isn't your problem. Now, since we have agreed that sex is not only natural but absolutely necessary for the continuation of the human race, it stands to reason that Mother Nature would have made pretty certain that people would want to indulge in it. And Mother Nature did." He grinned. "How? By making it one of the most enjoyable pastimes on the face of the earth. And that includes the entire sex act-not just part of it."
Pat nodded, fascinated. ' "You see," Aldo continued, "the moment of release is like the icing on the cake, the final little extra topping that can make something nice into something beautiful, something excellent into something perfect, and, if you don't mind me getting a little corny here, something merely human into something almost divine."
Pat smiled. The thought occurred to her that what Aldo was doing was setting the proper mood for her, hypnotizing her almost, psyching her into the idea that sexual satisfaction was a good thing so that she'd be more likely to experience it. But the fact that she thought she could see through his methods didn't detract at all from their effectiveness. She could feel herself being more receptive already, and she could hardly wait.
"Anyway," Aldo went on, "all this is basic information. And then there's a lot of fancy medical jargon, and graphs on which we can plot things like ecstasy curve-which is the rate at which a person rises toward the most intense moment of the sexual act." He grinned and shrugged his shoulders. "But what really counts, of course, is what we might call the laboratory sessions. That's where theory is put into practice."
Pat rested her chin provocatively in her palm. "This is a lavatory, not a laboratory," she pointed out with a smile.
Aldo grinned even more broadly. "And this," he said, "is where I begin putting the theory into practice. Ready?"
"Ready," said Pat.
She said little else. The next thing she knew, she was enveloped in Aldo's strong arms, and, as the plane slid smoothly through the air at 600 miles an hour and 31,-000 feet, she felt herself melting and sinking into his delicious body.
Aldo's hands swiftly undid the buttons of her stewardess jacket, removed it, then unbuttoned Pat's blouse. He spread the edges of the garment apart, exposing her firm, young breasts, held in only by her brassiere. He rubbed it rhythmically with his hands, until her neck was arched back in ecstasy and she was sighing softly.
The plane lurched slightly, and for a moment both of them shot out their arms for balance. When they returned to their embrace, they were both chuckling softly, remembering together that it was a similar rocking of the plane less than an hour before that had brought them together in the first place.
"Good thing you don't have any coffee in your hands this time," joked Aldo softly. "I don't think I could take another dousing."
Pat giggled. All of a sudden, and totally unexpectedly, she felt a closeness to Aldo that transcended the merely physical. There was a kind of friendship there, a sense of communication. She wondered, for an instant, if she were on the verge of falling in love with him.
Ridiculous! she quickly reminded herself. Things just didn't happen that way. And besides, she wouldn't allow it to happen. After all, she had a boyfriend-Tom. And he was the one she loved, even though he could be difficult at times, and even though it was he who had driven her to this in the first place.
Yet this Aldo fellow, she had to admit, certainly had a lot of charm to him. And thinking about dear old Tom, six miles below her and some distance to the side of her on the ground, was becoming more difficult with each passing moment. She made a brief mental note to see Tom again as soon as possible after landing, then gave up trying to think about him at all.
"Do you want me to stop?" Aldo whispered in her ear.
Pat shook her head, hardly aware of what she was doing. But she was aware enough to know that Aldo's question was said out of consideration rather than real meaning. She knew very well that he wouldn't have listened to her if she'd said yes. Nor would she have wanted him to.
Aldo ran his hands around her sides and fumbled with the catch to her brassiere. It came loose, and he drew it around to the front and removed.
Pat hunched herself together modestly. Her breasts rose and fell in time with her breathing, and the pink tips were taut and trembling, and Pat was panting with desire.
Aldo brought his face close to her breasts and nuzzled his nose between them. He ran his fingers gently around the outsides of her breasts, pressing them in close to his ears. Then his fingers crept up to the tips, darting there and then away again, finally settling on them till they were taut and trembling, and pat was panting with desire.
Knowing it was only part of the game, Pat pleaded with Aldo to stop.
"No," he mumbled.
Now his lips were darting round the edges of her nipples, kissing them, sucking on them, biting them with small, furious little nips.
"Oh no!" she cried. The drone of the plane's powerful fan-jet engines under the tail blotted out the sound.
Aldo didn't answer her. He kissed her over and over again, burrowing into her like a madman, although there was always a sense of tremendous control in what he was doing, as if he were a masterful orchestra conductor, and Pat were all the instruments combine.
She had never been so aroused before. Tom was an inept little boy by comparison. And that one fling with Captain Brent had been too frantic and guilt-ridden to have been as good as this.
Aldo's hands left Pat's throbbing breasts and raced down along her body to her legs.
"Stop!" she panted excitedly. "Oh, Aldo, you're driving me crazy!"
"That's the idea-remember?" he said.
But she hardly heard the words. He caressed her calves, hurrying on to her thighs, playing with them through the stockings. Then he was hurriedly taking them off, and then he was unzipping her skirt and letting that, too, fall to the slightly-vibrating floor of the airplane restroom. There was an urgency about him now that went somewhat beyond the professional, and he squeezed and molded her flesh until she was whimpering helplessly. Then he was at her panties, clawing and caressing her frantically.
"No...." she whispered weakly.
His hands pulled at her panties, sliding them over her buttocks and down to her ankles. He slipped them off, as she raised one leg to allow him to do so.
Now he was hurriedly removing his own pants, and moments later Pat felt his lean, muscular body pressing nakedly against her.
Deliriously, she gave herself up to him, oblivious to everything, including what sounded dimly like a knock at the restroom door.
"Oh Aldo!" she moaned helplessly. "Aldo!"
He drove himself against her relentlessly, pressing her back up against the stainless-steel sink. The metal felt cold against her buttocks, but the warmth in front of her made her blind to it.
As she felt his thrashing body, she squirmed and moved violently to meet it. Wildly, she rose higher and higher, to a crescendo of excitement, higher than she'd ever been before. She was sure that this was it, that she was going to explode at any moment.
He drove faster and faster, sweating, grunting, squeezing her shoulders with his powerful hands.
The excitement was almost unbearable. She felt on the verge of blacking out.
Then, very slowly, the sensations eased. She opened her eyes. Aldo was standing across the room from her, breathing hard, looking at her.
When she caught her breath, she said: "Did I make it?"
He smiled confidently and shook his head. "No," he said. "Not this time. But I'll bet you came closer than ever before-didn't you?"
Pat nodded weakly. "I sure came closer to something," she acknowledged.
"Then don't worry about a thing. You've got all the potential you'll ever need. It's just a matter of time now."
Pat nodded. She felt, oddly enough, that she had let Aldo down, rather than the other way around. "Can I see you again?" she asked. "I mean, I know you're busy and all...."
Aldo reached out, took her hand and squeezed it. "Of course," he said. "Let's make a date for ... oh, how about two days from now? I'll find out which hotel I'm staying at and you can meet me there."
"Oh, thank you," said Pat gratefully. She was still tingling.
The knock came at the door again.
"Be out in a moment," called Pat.
"Oh, I'm sorry," said an apologetic voice.
She began getting into her uniform. It crossed her mind that it might be a little tricky getting out of the restroom without the passengers seeing that somebody else was in there with her. But her wits were coming back to her, and she was sure she would think of something in a moment.
She smiled up at Aldo. "Thank you, sex expert," she said.
He nodded gallantly. "Thank you" he replied. Then, taking a deep breath, Pat opened the door and stepped back into the passenger cabin.
CHAPTER THREE
The passenger, evidently, had tired of waiting and had returned to his seat. Pat took the opportunity to quickly beckon to Aldo, who adjusted his tie, pinned a smile to his face, and walked out of the restroom after her as if nothing had happened at all.
Of course, much had. And nobody was as shiveringly aware of it as Pat herself. As she resumed her duties on the plane, she felt in her mood a satisfying sense of progress. Though no final solution had been achieved, she knew that at last she was on the right track. At last she had found the guide she'd been searching for. And at last the problem which had been threatening to destroy her relationship with Tom was on its way toward being eliminated.
When the plane landed, Pat touched Aldo's hand meaningfully, received his assurances that he would contact her as soon as he was able to, and watched him somewhat wistfully as he strode to a taxi and departed.
He was really quite a man, she marveled. Quite a man indeed....
And the thought lingered with her throughout the return trip on the plane; and it was still lingering-unfortunately-later that night as Tom picked her up at the door of her apartment.
"Hi, honey," he said brightly.
"Hi," she responded, hoping he wouldn't be aware of the change in her. She felt vastly more womanly than ever before, and she was sure he'd be able to spot it in a minute and then deduce how she got that way.
But apparently he was insensitive to the "new" Pat-if indeed there was one. "Brought you a present," he announced with unconcealed pride.
"For me?" Her eyes sparkled. "What?"
"This."
Pat's mouth fell open in disbelief. "Tom ... I...."
"Here. Try it on."
"But-" She was too taken aback to think straight. They had talked of getting engaged sometime in the future. But the diamond ring before her at the moment was a complete surprise to her.
"Go on." Tom was glowing, and despite her momentary confusion, Pat knew how excited and happy he must be. She was aware, too, that if she didn't start acting terribly thrilled herself pretty soon, there was going to have to be some explaining.
"It's beautiful," she said, hedging for time to think. "But don't you ... I mean...."
"What, honey? There's nothing wrong, is there?"
"Well ... no. But, I mean, I thought we were going to wait awhile."
"Oh that." Tom grinned and came into the room. "Look, I know we had that little tiff the other night, but that was nothing. All lovers have-"
"I know," Pat interrupted, taking his hand and walking into the living room with him. "But those things you said ... they were true, Tom. They really were. You said that until I had satisfaction when we made love, you didn't think we should get married. And you said that that's why we were going to wait before even getting engaged."
He patted her bottom and smiled. "I know. I changed my mind. What are you going to do about it?" He looked at her with a challenging grin.
"Come on, Tom," she said, smiling back. "Be serious."
"I am being serious."
"No you're not. I'm surprised at you. You're always so logical about everything. That's what's going to make you such a fine lawyer someday. And now you're acting the exact opposite of the logic you gave to me the other night."
"Well, I've reconsidered," said Tom. "After all, I'm not a genius, am I? I made a mistake." He paused for a long moment and looked at her. Then he softened. "Well, all right. To tell you the truth, I still believe what I said the other night. I guess I just saw this thing today and couldn't resist it." He looked at her gently, that look that Pat had fallen love with the first moment she'd seen it, he look she could never resist. "I love you, you know."
"I know," she answered. Her eyes became watery, and she reached around him and embraced him tightly. She buried her face into his muscular neck and planted small kisses of love all about him.
He pulled back from her, relaxed again. "So come on. Try it on."
"All right." She gave him a small smile and held out her finger. He slipped it on slowly, and they stared at it in silence for a few moments, as if it were a magic amulet and were about to radiate some mysterious aura. "It's beautiful...." she said finally, her voice slightly choked.
"I'm glad you like it," said Tom. He clasped her both hands in his. "Come here."
As he guided her toward the couch, Pat found herself trembling uncontrollably. And it wasn't, she knew, the kind of trembling it ought to have been. Something was wrong. Suddenly, things were proceeding too quickly with Tom. It was as if some important element had been left out, and until that gaping emptiness were filled, she could no more make love to Tom again than she could accept his engagement ring-the ring which, by not protesting strongly enough, she had just accepted.
A strong feeling of impending trouble filled her, and as she sat down on the couch with her boyfriend, Tom could sense her stiffness.
"Something's bothering you," he said gently. She nodded. "I know."
"I guess we'd better discuss it ... huh?" She nodded again. "Is it the ring?"
"Sort of."
"Don't you want it?" All Pat could manage was a shrug. She felt the weight of great complications on her shoulders. "You do love me, don't you?" She nodded without hesitation.
"Well, then why ... I mean, I don't understand. If it's the other night that's bothering you-"
"It's not just the other night," said Pat, meeting his eyes. "It's all the other nights. I don't ... I don't know. You make me feel I'm not good enough for you in bed."
Tom grinned. "Not good enough? Hell, you're terrific. You really are. All I said-"
"That's just it. I know what you said. And that's the whole point. You've made me feel that there's something wrong with me. Up until then, everything was fine, I really like going to bed with you. I didn't think anything was wrong. Now ... I don't know, I feel nervous about it. I feel pressure on me to achieve something, and I don't even know what it is. It makes me tense, and I keep feeling I'm failing you."
"Well, you're not, honey. Honest, you're not." He tried to pull her close to him, but Pat resisted.
"Yes I am," she said. "You told me so yourself. You can say anything you want now, but it can't change what you said."
Tom gave a long sigh and let go of her. He rested his chin in his hands and looked at the far wall impatiently. For the first time, Pat saw him as a different person. She viewed him now as a guy who wanted her sexually only for his own satisfaction. And when she didn't satisfy him enough, because she couldn't be satisfied, he complained.
Suddenly, he didn't look like a man who loved her at all, but one who basically loved only himself. She felt filled with revulsion.
"Here," she said, removing the ring and handing it back to him.
He looked at her in disbelief. "Are you serious?"
"I'm serious."
"Look, what's going on, anyway?" said Tom, slightly annoyed. "You're acting crazy tonight. What's gotten into you?"
The mean smirk came out before she could stop it. "Maybe a little common sense," she said. "Maybe I've finally wised up a little."
Tom took the ring and shoved it into his pocket. "Listen," he said tightly. "I spent nearly five hundred dollars on that chunk of glass, and you act as if it's something I happened to find in a box of Cracker Jacks."
Pat faced him angrily. "What does the price have to do with it? I just said I don't want it, that's all. Do you think you can buy me? Do you think I'm something off the street that you can pay a certain amount for, and then I'm yours?" She pointed an accusing finger at him. "You're selfish, that's what," she said. "The other night I was too startled to say anything, but I've had time to think it over, and-"
"Yeah, I'm sure you have," Tom shot back. "And maybe you've had some company to help you do your thinking."
Pat's eyes narrowed. "Maybe I have," she said cruelly. "And maybe," she added, "it was about time."
Tom looked at her carefully. It was an answer he hadn't expected. "I hope," he said quietly, "you didn't really mean that."
Pat lowered her eyes. For a fleeting moment she felt sorry for Tom. For a second, she still loved him as much as ever. Then the resentment flooded over her. He had challenged her womanhood the other night, and she'd had nothing but worry and confusion because of it. Maybe it was time he got a dose of his own medicine.
"I do mean it," she said, feeling a wave of terror pass over her at the idea of saying something so strong and irrevocable. "I do mean it."
Tom swallowed and hastily fumbled for a cigarette. He lighted it, and Pat saw that his hand was shaking. "Did you do anything with anybody else?" he asked.
"That's none of your business," she said.
"What do you mean, it isn't?" he flared back at her. "You're my fiancee. We're going to be-"
"We're going to be nothing," Pat snapped hotly. "And I'm not your fiancee. The ring is in your pocket, not on my hand. And for all I care, it can stay there till it rots."
Tom grabbed her shoulders and pressed her back against the back of the sofa. "Now look," he warned, his eyelids moving like windshield wipers to hide the film of wetness on them.
"Look what?" she said tightly. Pat was madder than she'd ever been at anybody. She'd given both her heart and her body to this man, and he still had the nerve to complain it wasn't enough. Well, she was through giving.
"I love you," Tom growled at her.
"You love yourself."
"I do not."
"Then why do you nag me because I can't have satisfaction with you? Why don't you just leave me alone?"
"Because I want you to enjoy it."
"I do enjoy it," Pat snarled back. "That is, I did. Now just go away and let me solve my own problems in my own way."
"You mean with somebody else."
"Yes. If it means somebody else, then it will be somebody else. That's my business."
"It's mine too," Tom fired back. "I love you. Can't you understand that?"
"Not anymore I can't." Pat pushed him away as he tried to kiss her.
"Don't be silly." Tom tried to kiss her again, and Pat squirmed out of the way and slapped him hard on the face. He stopped as if hit not by a hand but by a sledgehammer.
She glared at his hurt face, too angry at the moment to even care. "Leave me alone," she shouted, nearly in tears. "I don't want you to touch me anymore. You blame me for not having a climax. Well, maybe it's you. Did you ever think of that? Maybe it's you!"
He stared at her silently, only his face revealing how he felt. His lower lip wobbled helplessly, and a tiny vein in his forehead throbbed visibly. His face was red and little beads of sweat stood out on it.
"Maybe I need a real man!" Pat shrilled completely out of control now. "Maybe then I'll have a climax. Maybe then-" She began to weep uncontrollably.
Tom reached over to comfort her. She smacked his hand out of the way. "Don't touch me," she snarled, hating him as she never had before. "Go away. Just please go away."
Tom drew back in silence. He walked toward the door, gave Pat one final, very sad, look then closed the door behind him.
He was gone. For several minutes Pat kept her head in her hands and cried. She didn't know what it was that had caused her to explode as she had. She hadn't known she was capable of such emoions.
But now, as she sat quietly on the sofa, her wits slowly returned to her. And certain things, which moments ago had been so muddled, gradually became clear. One was that she did, truly, love Tom very deeply. Another was that she didn't dare go near him again until she got her problem solved. If she hadn't totally destroyed their relationship already, the next encounter-unless she solved her problem first-would surely mean catastrophe.
Suddenly, her course of action was clear, she absolutely had to attain sexual satisfaction-and quickly. And she knew of no one better suited to the job than Aldo Mitchell.
Drying her eyes and composing herself, she picked up the telephone and dialed information.
CHAPTER FOUR
It wasn't hard to locate Aldo. Pat knew what city he was staying in, and she simply called each of the major hotels in that city until she found him. When she did, she told him what had happened, and, as she'd expected, he was sympathetic and understanding.
"How soon can I see you?" she asked him, trying to keep the eagerness out of her voice. She realized, as she spoke to him, that the reason she wanted him went somewhat beyond a mere medication that would put her back into shape for Tom. Indeed, she wanted this man for himself. He had excited her beyond belief that day on the plane, and only now did she realize the impression he had made on her.
"Well ... "
"I'm really sorry to disturb you this late and all," Pat said hastily.
"It's not that," said Aldo. "It's just that-"
"And if you've got another ... you know ... visitor ... well, that's okay. I understand."
Aldo's warm laugh was reassuring. "No, Pat. It's nothing like that. It's just that we're miles apart. It would take so long for us to get together...."
"No, it wouldn't," Pat countered quickly. "You forget, I work for an airline. I can be there in-" she consulted a timetable on the table nearby "less than two hours. And it won't cost me a thing. I fly free, remember?"
"Oh yes, that's right."
"Are you sure I won't be imposing?"
"Not at all," said Aldo, and his voice told her that he really meant it. "I was already beginning to feel a little lonely here. It will be a pleasant surprise to have company for the night. You do plan to spend the night, I assume."
"If you don't mind."
"It will be my pleasure. And you can be sure that by the time you get here, I will have everything ready for you. I think perhaps we can solve your special problem this very night-and have ourselves a lot of fun doing it."
"Oh, thank you," said Pat, feeling a rush of affection for him. "You're very sweet."
"Hurry over," said Aldo. "I'm very anxious to see you."
Two hours later, as promised, Pat was knocking softly at the door to Aldo's hotel room. He opened it, smiled graciously, took her hand and guided her inside.
She looked around in wonder. It was easily the fanciest hotel room she'd ever visited-not that she'd visited very many. Rather than consisting of just one room, there were several in the suite, and Pat ran her toe through the thick pile carpet that covered every inch of the floor.
She noted, too, that Aldo had indeed made preparations. A portable glass coffee table stood near a small sofa at one end of the room, and it was loaded with a bucket of fresh ice, glasses, and, on its lower shelf, an assortment of liquors that would have done justice to a medium-sized saloon.
At the other side of the couch stood another coffee table, this one permanent; and on it was a movie projector and several cans of film. The lighting in the room, too, was specially arranged. Warm pink bulbs had replaced the usual yellow ones in the lamps. And, from somewhere, soft seductive music issued throughout the room.
Pat stood on her toes and kissed Aldo's neck. "Thank you for letting me come here so late and on such short notice," she said.
"My pleasure," he said. "I've been thinking about you ever since I met you on the plane."
Pat felt comfortable and at home in Aldo's presence. Whereas with her boyfriend there was always an air of strain when it came to sex, with Aldo it seemed natural and right. But, Pat supposed, that was to be expected of a man who had studied sex so thoroughly.
"Relax," Aldo invited. "Sit down."
Pat sat down on the couch and waited.
"Scotch, bourbon, whiskey or what?" asked Aldo.
"Vodka," said Pat with a grin. "I always drink vodka. That way it doesn't show on your breath in case you don't want anybody to know you've been drinking."
Aldo chuckled. "Well, is there anybody here from whom you wish to conceal that fact?"
Pat shook her head.
"Good," said Aldo. "Because I don't happen to have vodka. What's your second choice?"
"Gin," said Pat, hoping, for the sake of fun, that he'd be out of that too.
"Coming right up," he surprised her. He went to a closet, took out a fresh bottle of clear liquid and opened it. He looked at her with twinkling eyes. "You're sure you want this now, and you weren't just kidding?"
"I was just kidding," Pat admitted. "Whiskey will be fine"
They sat for maybe a half-hour and sipped their drinks. As the alcohol took effect, Pat found herself becoming even more comfortable with Aldo. She felt warm and relaxed all over. And again, as that time on the plane, she had a flash of an inkling that all of this buildup had a certain amount of calculation to it; and, as before, she found that her being aware of it didn't make the slightest bit of difference. In fact, the fact that he bothered to do it at all was rather flattering.
The transition into nudity occurred so slowly and naturally that Pat was hardly aware that it was taking place. It was only when both she and Aldo were totally undressed and curled up together on the sofa, still sipping their drinks, that Pat suddenly realized how far she'd come.
There were a few bad moments, then; guilty moments, as she thought of Tom, and the things she had said to him and the things she was doing behind his back. Worse, it was all in the name of her love for him. But was that true? Did she really love him? Was she really doing all of this for his sake, for their sake? Or was she just satisfying her hedonistic urges, and using Tom as a handy rationalization?
She honestly didn't know; and the subject was too complex to cope with at the moment. Besides, there were too many other sensations vying for her attention, the most notable of which, at that very instant, was Aldo's resonant, knowledgeable voice.
"Let's not forget," he reminded her gently, "what we're here for."
For a moment Pat took the statement as something of a rejection. She felt like a patient visiting a busy doctor, and he was trying to politely hurry her along. Then she realized that it was just her imagination. Aldo was trying to help her. And the fact that she was a patient of sorts didn't detract in the least from the plain honest enjoyment each of them were getting out of the medication.
"One of the things we discovered in our experiments," Aldo said to her, as his hands ran lightly over her round young breasts, "is that conditioning has a lot to do both with achieving completion and with not. Let me explain that with an example. You've probably heard about the famous psychologist Pavlov, and the well-known experiment he did with dogs. In that case, he set things up so that a dog would hear a bell ring, and then immediately afterward be given something to eat. After number of repetitions, the dog became 'conditioned' to this; that is, every time the bell rang, he would begin to drool in expectation of getting something to eat. Well, the point of the experiment was that, once the dog became conditioned, he would drool whenever the bell was rungwhether or not any food was supplied. You see?"
"Uh-huh." She ran her hand over his thigh and tried, despite her rising excitement, to pay attention to what he was saying.
"Well," Aldo continued, "it's the same way with almost anything else. Human beings as well as animals become conditioned to things-and often this conditioning is so strong that it's almost impossible to act contrary to it."
"You mean that's why I'm unable to be satisfied?"
"Possibly," said Aldo.
"What I'm driving at, of course, is that the treatment involves reconditioning the person, and that's what I'm going to try to do with you right now."
"How?" Pat found the whole subject fascinating.
"Well, we'll begin by assuming that you are somewhat-conditioned against being fulfilled, and concentrate first on removing that blockade."
"How?" Pat asked again.
"Variety," said Aldo. "Let's proceed on the assumption that all those times you made love with Tom you did it in more or less the same environment and in the same way. At the same time, something in either your attitude or in Tom's attitude or in both your attitudes subtly suggested to you that what you were doing was wrong-thus preventing you from letting yourself go all the way. Well, by now the two have become associated with each other. That is, your inability to be satisfied and your making love with Tom in a certain place and manner have become fused."
Pat cocked her head curiously. "Do you mean that I'd never be able to have completion with Tom under those conditions?"
"Not only that," said Aldo, "but each time you try, you reinforce all the bad feelings you have, thus making it less likely that you'll have satisfaction together in the future."
"Gee," said Pat. "Well, I'm certainly glad, then, that Tom and I didn't have sex tonight. That would just have made things worse, right?"
"Most probably," said Aldo.
"But you know," said Pat wistfully, "I sort of wish I could have my first real experience with Tom. I don't want you to take this personally or anything, but you do know that I love Tom-or at least I think I do-and it would be nice if we could have that together."
Aldo nodded understandingly. "I know. But let's face it, you probably can't. So be satisfied having your first experience with somebody else-most likely me-and then have your second and future thrills with Tom. It may not seem so romantic, but it's better than busting up with him altogether, isn't it?"
Pat had to agree that it was. The alcohol was taking more and more of a toll on her sensibilities, and it occurred to her that if they didn't make love soon, the beautiful relaxation that she felt at the moment was going to carry her right off to sleep. And then that would be the end of that.
She lifted her glass in Aldo's direction. "Proceed, doctor," she said with a grin. "Your subject awaits you."
"Fine," said Aldo. "Now, the environment is already changed somewhat, by virtue of your being in a different room and, of course, with a different man. The lights are low, there is soft music, and you have relaxed somewhat by consuming a small amount of alcohol. Now-" and he paused dramatically as if he were the ringmaster of a circus announcing the major act of the show "-let us alter the conditions still further."
"How do you mean?" asked Pat, a little woozily.
Aldo grinned. "Be patient. Patient, and you shall find out."
CHAPTER FIVE
"We'll begin," said Aldo, "with a few reels of these."
"Movies?" asked Pat.
"Yes. But not the kind you see at a kiddies' matinee."
Pat smiled naughtily. "Oh. Dirty movies."
Aldo shrugged. "Dirty is a debatable word. Some people think they're dirty. But then some people think sex itself is dirty. And some of their thinking, I mipht point out, has probably rubbed off on you, which is why you have a problem."
"Okay. But they're stag films, right?"
"Right."
"Where'd you get them?"
"Through channels which Dr. Reichenbach and myrelf developed during the time we were doing our research. And some we made ourselves."
"Really?"
"Sure." Aldo grinned. "There isn't much to making a movie. Often we filmed some of our subjects in order to study, in slow motion, exactly what took place. Sometimes-and this was done when therapy was being performed in conjunction with our research-we even showed the films to the performers afterwards. It helped to give them a different perspective on things."
Pat made a face. "I'd feel funny performing in front of a camera. I don't really think I could do it."
"Hmm," said Aldo.
Pat looked at him. "What do you mean, 'hmm'?"
"That's an interesting remark," said Aldo. "Significant, I think. Perhaps that's one of the barriers we ought to concentrate on breaking down."
"Oh no!" said Pat. "You're not getting me in front of any movie cameras. Hey!" she exclaimed as the thought struck her. "You're not taking my picture now, are you?"
"Relax," Aldo soothed her, fondling her gently as though she were a jumpy kitten. "I wouldn't do that. All of those people we filmed knew that we were taking their pictures. And none of their faces are visible, which is why I'm able to show the movies to you now. Don't you think I have any ethics?"
"Well...."
"Well, I do," Aldo assured her. "What I had in mind was something similar to your watching yourself in the movies, but not that precisely. I was thinking more along the lines of an instant replay, like they have on television."
"You have a TV system here?" asked Pat. It sounded incredulous, but then she as a little drunk, so she wasn't quite sure.
"Nope. But mirrors will work just as well. Have you ever made love in front of a mirror?" Pat shook her head. "Want to?"
She shrugged. "I don't know." She smiled. "I guess I'd feel kind of foolish at first."
"You see," said Aldo. "I knew you had a hangup in that area. But you watch how fast it disappears."
He rose and walked into the other room. In the dim light, Pat watched him go, and she tingled with excitement at the way he walked, so muscularly and gracefully, like a panther. No-like a man, but an athlete; like Adam probably walked when he went after Eve.
She sat back on the sofa and waited. For an instant an image of Tom flashed across her mind, but she deliberately erased it. For one thing, it hurt too much. For another, she was having herself a wonderful, beautiful time, and she didn't want anything to destroy the magical mood into which Aldo Mitchell, the Sex Expert, was gradually putting her.
She felt another shudder as Aldo reentered the room. He was carrying a heavy dresser mirror in one hand, and in the other he held what appeared to be some sort of electrical appliance. At least it was shiny and had a cord dangling from it.
"Welcome back," she said flippantly. She felt in a gay mood now, aware that all sorts of fun things were about to happen.
"Thank you," said Aldo. He placed the appliance on the floor and spent some time adjusting the mirror on a chair in such a way that it would reflect an image of the sofa right back to the sofa. That done, he plugged in the appliance and carried it back with him to the sofa, where he sat down next to Pat.
"All set, doc?" she joked.
"Just about." He threaded a large reel of film through the camera so that it would be ready to go at the flick of a switch. Then he took the appliance, which Pat now realized was a vibrating device designed to remove fat from a small portion of the body at a time, and slipped his hand through the elastic straps, so that the small vibrating motor was affixed to the back of his hand and would cause his entire hand to vibrate when the motor was turned on.
"Okay," he said. "Relax and enjoy yourself." With that, he flicked a switch and the pink lights dimmed still further, making the room dark enough to view movies, yet light enough so that Pat could see her own and Aldo's reflected image in the propped-up mirror.
Up until now Pat had been getting chills of anticipation. Now the chills came more frequently and with greater intensity, because all she had anticipated began taking place.
Aldo switched on the projector, and the clatter of film sprocketing through the machine filled the room. An instant later, this sound was counterpointed by the whine of the electric vibrator attached to the back of Aldo's hand.
Pat leaned back into the nook of his arm and gave herself up to sensation. As Aldo's lips gently nuzzled her neck and then her breasts, his other hand, the one with the vibrator on it, moved slowly up and down her legs. After a few minutes, Pat could hardly tell which vibrations were her own trembling and which were outwardly induced by the machine.
Meanwhile, there was a visual treat in store for her as well. In the mirror, she could see her own lithe body squirming and writhing under Aldo's expert manipulations. On the wall, she could see the actions of others.
For a time, the movies won most of her attention. They were not, as she'd expected, true stag films. Though she'd seen only one or two such films in her life, she'd heard enough talk about them to realize that they were generally of bad photographic quality and that there was usually some simple story line to them, such as a plumber coming in to fix a leaky faucet, seeing a lovely young girl there, and engaging in sexual intercourse with her instead of fixing the pipes.
These films, however, were different. Since they'd been made for medical purposes, they dispensed with a plot, and so there were no plumbers or milkmen or delivery boys-just naked men and women engaging in sexual intercourse in every imaginable position and filmed from every possible angle. The subjects were, as Aldo had said, photographed in such a way as to make identification impossible. Moreover, the movies were clear and sharp and in color
"Like them?" Aldo whispered in her ear, aware that she was watching them intently.
"Yeah," she said softly. She shuddered with sudden love for him. Perhaps it was because he was trying so hard-and succeeding so well-at making her happy.
The vibrator moved along the tops of her thighs, but because of the way it was attached to Aldo's hand, it was his fingers she felt vibrating, not the cold metal of the machine. She gasped with pleasure, and squirmed more wildly. She glanced at the mirror as the increased action caught her attention. And the sight of herself, letting herself go, moaning and bouncing, only intensified the unbearable thrill she was feeling.
For some reason she felt compelled to watch the movies a little while longer. They were too interesting, somehow, to let pass by unobserved. At the moment, a gorgeous tall woman was stretched out on a purple rug, and her lissome figure was moving luxuriously, her legs parted. One knee was up in the air and the other was flat; one arm was stretched over her face in ecstasy; her teeth were clenched.
Pat watched intently, her breath coming faster, as a lean young man kneeled down in front of her and began rubbing his face against her thighs and flat abdomen, playing with her softness with his tongue. As he did this, his hands were upon his own body, slowly manipulating himself.
Pat panted hard. She felt as though she were being dipped in a huge vat of sex. Everywhere she turned there was stimulation. One moment she felt she was a part of the movie, playing the part first of the girl, then of the man. Then she was a part of the image in the mirror. The next moment her awareness focused on Aldo, real and beside her, running his hands tantalizingly, excruciatingly over her body.
Her breasts throbbed hotly as the vibrating hand crept up and encircled them. The nipples became so hard she could almost envision them as brittle and about to break off. But then Aldo's tongue would caress them, and their hardness would take on a rubbery feel, and she would jerk and squirm with pleasure.
The movie caught her eye again. Now there was a group of three people cavorting on the wall. A tall, handsome man was standing behind a voluptuous woman, pressing himself against her from behind as she bent over. The woman's hands, meanwhile, rested on the knees of another woman who was seated, facing the first woman, in a chair, her breasts sticking out boldly as the first woman played with a nipple with her mouth.
Pat sighed with blind ecstasy as the man moved rhythmically against the standing woman's buttocks, and the woman jerked with delight at each slow, magnificent motion.
Then it was back to reality again for a few moments. Aldo was manipulating her as though she were a soft" balloon moving and undulating under his touch. The vibrator was driving her into a frenzy, and she was bouncing and squirming wildly.
Now the movie again. Three women this time, rolling and tumbling around in one tangled, erotic pile of flesh. Then the wrestling ceased, and Pat watched as they rearranged themselves. One of the girls lay on her back on the rug, her legs spread wide apart. The second girl lay between those legs, as if in a cradle. The third girl caressed the first girl's upper body, running her hands lightly over the firm young ribcage, then coming up and fondling the lovely breasts, then dipping her head and kissing the nipples. Both girls worked as a perfect team, bringing the girl on her back quickly to such a pitch of excitement that Pat could almost hear her whimperings of pleasure.
Or were they her own whimperings? She hadn't the slightest idea anymore, nor could she have cared less. Aldo's movements came more rapidly as he sensed her increasing excitement.
The scene on the wall changed abruptly. Now there was a man and a woman up there. Both were young and good-looking and athletic. The man stood tall and proud, his legs spread just slightly, his arms folded powerfully across his chest, his head high and proud. In front of him knelt a sleek young girl, with long flowing brown hair, her neck arched backwards as she looked up at him.
Pat's blood throbbed as she watched the girl reach out for the man with her hands, tentatively, gently, hopefully. The girl took the man and held him, fondled him, and then, unable to stand it any longer, she moved her face slowly closer and closer. Then, placing her hands behind the man's powerful buttocks, she opened her mouth and brought it closer to him.
Pat gasped with vicarious pleasure. She reached out her hand desperately for Aldo, and, finding him, began fondling him dizzily. Though she was not in a position to do what the girl on the screen was doing, she held onto Aldo with her hand and stroked him excitedly, moving her lips as she imagined doing what she saw on the screen.
As Pat watched, the scene suddenly changed again. Now there were a man and a woman wildly kissing and hugging each other, their bodies glistening with sweat, the woman's large breasts being squeezed tightly against the man's chest so that they spread out on the sides.
Suddenly the couple drew apart, and the man sat down on a nearby chair. He got himself comfortable, spreading his legs slightly and planting his feet solidly on the floor. Then the woman came over to him. With the man's help, she climbed into his lap, gingerly posing herself above the lap and then slowly sinking down.
Pat could see, though not hear, the sigh of exquisite pleasure on the woman's face. From the way the woman's abdomen moved in and out, Pat could tell that she was breathing rapidly. Gradually, the woman's movements increased in speed and intensity. Her bottom squirmed deliciously on top of the man as she rose and fell upon him, her legs dangling outside of his, her large breasts bobbing and swinging wildly as she moved.
The man was growing more excited by the minute, too. Pat could see only his legs, since the rest of his body was obscured by the woman's thrashing body; but she could see the sinewy muscles straining, pushing the man up against her, trying to bring him as close to her as possible. His hands came around her slim waist and fondled her excitedly, and then they moved upwards and grasped her breasts as if they were large, soft handles. The woman arched her neck back so that the man coud kiss her earlobes.
They moved faster and faster. And then, as Pat watched with unbearable excitement, they both stiffened and the woman's mouth opened in a cry of pure delight.
Pat couldn't stand it any longer. She longed for a release from the profound tension that Aldo and all his equipment were building up within her. His hand, the one with the vibrator on it, had settled on her thighs again, and as he pressed it against her, his other hand came around and held her buttocks from the other side. She felt melted, dissolved, destroyed. As though there were nothing left of her but little particles of sensations scattered all over the room: on the wall, in the mirror, in Aldo's hands.
But relief didn't come.
The blockage, whatever it was, was still there. And even from the fantastic plateau of excitement to which Aldo had brought her, even from that height from where she could see the relief she was so desperately seeking; even from there, she could not bring herself to take the plunge.
It was like standing by an icy stream, and wanting to jump in, but not being able to summon the courage. Pat tried until she was exhausted. And then, unable to bridge that tiny yet so very vast gap, she nodded her head back and fell instantly asleep in Aldo's embrace.
It had been the most thrilling experience in her entire life. But it had been far from satisfying. And she realized sadly, in the moment before she dropped off to sleep, that her seemingly mild problem was a lot more stubborn than either she or Aldo had imagined.
CHAPTER SIX
She woke up feeling empty and depressed. The wild thrills of the night before had subsided, and now there was nothing to take their place. She stared vacantly for awhile at Aldo, sleeping soundly beside her, still as handsome as ever, yet somehow less attractive.
It must have been her, she realized. Nothing looked pretty this morning. Her session with the sex expert had yielded excitement, but no real success. Her relationship with Tom was at the lowest point ever. And the prospects of her eventually resolving her sexual hangup seemed dimmer than at any time since the problem had been thrust upon her in the first place.
She bit her lip, and for a moment she felt like laying down her head and sobbing. The feeling didn't last for long. Within a few seconds it was replaced by anger.
All right, Pat told herself grimly. Enough. The problem had to be solved, and that was that. Tom hadn't been able to help her so she'd gone to Captain Brent. The pilot had been unsuccessful, so she'd gone to Aldo. Now Aldo, too, seemed like a flop. Credentials or not, he hadn't been able to provide Pat with the release she needed. Sure, he'd told her to be patient; but she was running out of patience. Events were moving too fast to be patient.
Pat's mood brightened. She had always been a plucky girl, and now, once again, she felt the old fight coming back. She felt as though she were battling her way out of a large wad of tar of flypaper-and the challenge excited her.
"Goodby, sex expert," she said quietly and with good-humored sarcasm to the man asleep beside her. "Perhaps we'll meet soon again."
Perhaps they would, she thought brightly as she dressed and quietly left the room. And then again maybe they wouldn't. It didn't matter. She felt oddly free, exhilaratingly confident in herself. And the mood stayed with her all the way to the airport and onto the plane on which she was scheduled to be stewardess-at which point it disintegrated completely around her.
What made it happen was Pat's impulsive decision to give Captain Brent another "chance." Normally, she wouldn't have. But her eagerness to resolve her problem quickly made the captain-when he gave her the eye before they took off-suddenly seem like more of a possibility than he might otherwise have been. Despite her previous failure with him, Pat decided to give it one more whirl.
"Hi, Captain," she greeted him cheerily. She straightened her uniform and peered over the seated pilot's shoulder out of the front window of the plane. "Looks like good weather," she observed.
"The best," he said, winking at her again.
Pat placed her hand gently on his shoulder to let him know she was interested. 'Where's Charles?" she asked, noting that the co-pilot had not yet arrived.
Captain Brent looked over his shoulder and back through the long plane. "Close the door," he said to Pat.
She did as she was told.
"Charles' daughter got sick," said Captain Brent. "He phoned in about a half hour ago saying he couldn't make it. I checked with the main office, and they told me they couldn't get a replacement on such short notice. They wanted me to-"
"To fly it alone?" asked Pat incredulously, her eyes widening. "But you know the regu-"
"Sure," the captain cut back in again. "We all know the rules. They asked me to break them just this once. Nobody will know the difference. We all know that a co-pilot is only a back-up man, in case the pilot gets a heart attack or something. The likelihood of that happening, of course, is slim."
Pat nodded. She had to agree that he was right. It was a risk, but a minor one. "Well, can I do anything extra to help you out?"
The meaningful grin reappeared on Captain Brent's face. "You certainly can," he said. "Once we get airborne, I wouldn't mind a little ... ah, shall we say, refreshment. What do you say?"
Pat grinned back at him and massaged him affectionately on the shoulder. "Coffee, tea or milk, sir?"
"That's not what I mean, and you know it. What do you say?"
Pat's eyes crinkled warmly at the corners. She played her tongue around her lips for several seconds, as if deciding. But the decision, of course, had come immediately, and her hesitation was just playing. "Yes," she said softly. She turned, opened the door of the cabin and stepped into the body of the plane. She looked back once and smiled. "See you at thirty thousand feet," she said. Then she went back to tend to the boarding passengers. There were only twelve, and it was easy. A pillow here, a magazine there, and an occasional word of encouragement to the first-flighters who were a bit uneasy.
The two large fan jet engines whined powerfully. Slowly, like a lumbering bear, the plane taxied into position on the runway. The whine increased to a roar. Then the brakes were released and the plane accelerated like a rocket, lifting gently into the air, banking slightly, and disappearing into a small cluster of clouds. Ten minutes later it had emerged above them and was floating silently through the stratosphere.
Captain Brent's voice crackled over the speaker. "We are now flying at thirty-four thousand feet." he announced to the passengers. "Our speed is 570 miles per hour, we have a strong tail wind behind us and we expect to arrive ten minutes ahead of schedule. Seat belts may be removed and you may smoke. We hope you enjoy your flight."
There was a pause, then the voice added: "Miss Jefferson-please come to the cockpit."
Pat's heart fluttered. Outwardly calm, but inwardly beginning to quaver with anticipation, she strolled up front, opened the cabin door, stepped inside and closed it after her.
The sight that greeted her sent chills of excitement through her body.
Captain Brent was completely naked except for a pair of earphones cupped around his head. On the empty co-pilot's seat were his clothes, neatly piled and folded. He smiled at her and invited her to sit beside him. Smiling in return, though trembling, Pat carefully removed the captain's uniform from the seat, draped it over a hook in the rear of the cockpit and sat down.
"Gee," she said softly. It was all she could think of to say. She was still too startled-and thrilled-to think very clearly.
Captain Brent took her hand. He pulled on it slowly, and Pat offered no resistance as he placed it on his thickly-muscled thigh. She shuddered and began moving her hand by herself. How terrific he felt, she kept thinking to herself. How much she ached for him. That first time they'd been together hadn't been all that great, because it had been her first infidelity from Tom and she'd felt guilty. But she could hardly control herself from leaping onto him right at that moment.
"Don't be shy," the captain said to her softly. He glanced at the radar screen, made a small adjustment in the position of the wingflaps and the power of one of the engines. The plane, once airborne, practically flew itself and required little attention.
"I'm not shy," said Pat. She moved her hand with more certainty around the captain's naked thigh. She reflected to herself that she was glad that the captain didn't know about her problem about achieving satisfaction. She had never told him, and it was perhaps a good thing. If he knew, she mused, he might try too hard to excite her-as Aldo had-and maybe that would in some way actually hamper her. She didn't know; nor did she feel like waiting much longer before finding out.
Glancing every so often into his clear blue eyes, she began running her hands over his legs with more enthusiasm. Captain Brent sat there and watched her, and his restraint made Pat grow even more excited. She leaned over further so as to get closer to him. She could smell the musky odor emanating from his muscular body, and it was getting her as intoxicated as if she'd been whiffing fumes of pure alcohol. She leaned over still further and planted an impulsive kiss on his knee.
The captain moved his leg slightly in response. "Ah," he said. "Nice."
Pat smiled. "Yum. I liked it too."
"Do it up a little higher," Captain Brent invited.
Pat shivered with desire. She looked up in that direction. The captain was plainly eager for her. He was waiting, and the sensations shooting through Pat's body as she tentatively reached her hand out towards him were exquisite.
She touched him and gasped with anticipation. "Oh my," she said softly.
"Kiss me," said the captain.
Slowly Pat brought her head into position. She squirmed down so that both her arms were resting on both of Captain Brent's thighs. Deliberately moving slowly so that it would last longer, she moved her head closer.
It made contact, and another crackle of electricity zigzagged through her. She sighed with pleasure and stuck out her tongue, licking softly at first, up and down. Then harder. Finally, unable to control herself any longer, she opened her mouth wide.
For the next several minutes she kissed blissfully, her eyes half closed. They had a rhythm going, and soon the Captain's bottom and Pat's head were moving in ecstatic unison.
The next thing Pat noticed were the Captain's hands cupped gently over her cheeks, pushing her face away from him. For a moment she felt hurt. But a quick glance at his smiling face reassured her.
"Climb on," he told her.
She grinned. "Boy," she complained genially as she tried to squirm into place. "They don't make these cockpits very large, do they!"
Captain Brent chuckled. "No, I guess not. But of course they were designed for flying a plane, not to serve as a motel room."
Half giggling, Pat continued to struggle. Finally she was comfortable, her hands gripping his solid shoulders for balance.
The Captain reached around her and flicked a switch. "That puts this bird on automatic pilot," he reminded her. "Otherwise, all you'd have to do would be to lean back suddenly and this whole thing would go into a nosedive."
Pat smiled, leaned her head forward and kissed him on the lips. "Hurry," she whispered to him. "I want you."
"I want you too," he said seriously.
The joking period was over, and both of them could sense it. It was replaced by a feeling of excitement and urgency. Pat could feel the blood bubbling through her system; she could hear her breathing grow louder and faster above the various noises in the pilot's compartment.
Captain Brent held out his hands and grasped her about the waist. She trembled at his touch. "Oh," she said softly as he began drawing her closer to him. She squirmed her bottom to help him. Bit by bit she inched nearer to him.
"Raise up a little," he directed her.
Pat followed instructions. She felt herself sinking into the exciting helplessness that she loved to experience in a man's arms. Her thigh muscles strained as she lifted herself. She felt the Captain slithering down slightly in the seat to make himself more accessible.
"Oh," she sighed as his manhood touched her most sensitive area. "Oh no, Oh no!" Slowly she sank down on him. His strong hands held her by the waist, drawing it out, making each tiny movement last for several seconds. Then she felt her body being lifted by his hands, and then came the slow, exquisite ride down again.
She was tingling helplessly. She clutched his shoulders and dug her face passionately into his neck and chest, as her bottom moved faster and faster, shooting spasms of delirium throughout her body and mind.
"Richard!" she moaned, calling him by his first name. "Oh Richard, you're fantastic!"
"You too," he grunted.
He was sweating. His face was taut with urgent desire.
"Oh, oh, oh!" She was rising higher and higher. It was just like with Aldo. The excitement was almost unbearable. "More," she kept groaning. "Oh Richard, more, more, more!"
He ground and squirmed powerfully beneath her. She dug her nails into her flesh. What was wrong! Why couldn't she explode? She knew she was close. She was right on the brink. Almost there; waiting to be blasted over.
"Richard!" she nearly shrieked at him. "Richard! Take me, make me!"
He tried manfully. He bounced her, gripped her, bit her lips and her neck. But it wouldn't work. She couldn't get there. She was stimulated to the point of exhaustion, and it was fantastic. But it still wasn't enough.
Nevertheless as the Captain stiffened and then slumped in the seat in exhaustion, Pat knew that it was all-for the time being at least-that she was going to get.
She looked at him sadly for a few moments, not saying anything.
"Hey," said the Captain, unaware that she hadn't reached a peak. "Cheer up. Wasn't that great?"
She turned her face away and hung her head. All the fight she'd felt an hour or so earlier had been drained out of her. She felt weary and defeated.
"Come on," said he Captain. "What's wrong?"
But Pat, by now, was weeping too bitterly to reply.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Two days passed.
During them, Pat had withdrawn into herself and tired not to have much contact with anybody. She was off from work, so she just stayed home in her apartment, puttered around, watched television and read. Maureen, her fellow stewardess, had called once and invited her to go bowling, but Pat had not felt up to it. Even Tom had called. She'd been polite toward him, but had put off seeing him.
"Don't you want to make up?" he'd said, and his voice had sounded sad and lonely.
"Yes," she'd said softly.
"Well, then why won't you see me?"
"I need time to think, Tom."
"About what?"
"Lots of things. Please, Tom. Don't rush me. I'll call you soon. I promise." , And then she had continued to mope around the house, searching for answers that didn't seem to come, feeling very low and helpless and sad.
What finally snapped her out of it was a phone call from Aldo. He was as smooth and friendly as ever, and he didn't seem to have noticed that Pat had left his room that morning two days earlier without saying goodbye or even leaving a note. Though Pat felt awkward talking to him at first, the uneasiness passed quickly.
"I've been awfully busy," said Aldo, as if it had been his fault that they hadn't got together sooner. "I'm sorry I didn't call you."
"Oh ... that's really okay," said Pat. "How have you been?" For reasons she didn't understand, she felt her spirits lifting.
"Fine, just fine," said Aldo. "And you?"
"Well...."
"Something's wrong," Aldo said immediately. Pat nodded. "Yes," she said into the phone, realizing he couldn't see her. "Sex," said Aldo.
"Yes," said Pat. She loved the way Aldo was able too see right through her. Again, she felt that weird sensation that perhaps she was falling in love with him. Significantly, it no longer struck her as such a patently outlandish idea.
"Well," said Aldo, all optimism, "let's get on with the therapy. No sense moping, right?"
Pat smiled. "How'd you know I was moping?"
"It was written all over your voice." He paused and added: "Just like I can tell that you're smiling right now."
She laughed. "Correct, doctor. You've really got me pegged, haven't you?"
"Yup. Now, when would you like to get together?"
"Anytime you say," said Pat. "Ten minutes?"
Pat hesitated. "You mean from now?"
"From when else? I'm two blocks away in a phone booth. I have to stop in a grocery store first, but then I can be right up."
"Oh yes, please do," said Pat happily. She bounced on the balls of her toes. It was like an unexpected Christmas present.
"Can I bring you anything?"
"Nope-just yourself."
"Fine," said Aldo. "Ten minutes."
Pat threw her arms around him as he walked in the door, and she meant it. She glowed with warmth ard affection. "What did you bring?" she asked, taking the package from his arms.
"Medicine," he replied.
Pat peered into the package. "Medicine?" she said curiously, removing a newspaper and a large bottte of cooking oil. "I don't understand."
Aldo grinned. "I'm your doctor, right? Well, this is what I prescribe for this afternoon's medication."
"Cooking oil?"
"Yup."
"What do I do?" Pat smiled. "Take two teaspoonfuls before bedtime and read the newspaper?"
Aldo shook his head. "Not by a long shot. Here-help me roll up this rug." He bent over and started pulling up the rug, moving heavy pieces of furniture out of the way as if they were doll's furniture. Soon, the wooden floor was exposed.
"Now," said Aldo, handing Pat the newspaper, "spread this around. Cover an area about the size of a bed. Make it about three sheets thick."
Pat gave him a look as though he were losing his mind; but he only grinned at her. While she was doing what he told her, Aldo began getting undressed. Pat began trembling as his beautiful body was revealed, Most men, she reflected, looked better with clothing; Aldo was one of the few who looked better naked.
They both got finished at about the same time. "Now what?" asked Pat, amused and intrigued by the whole game.
"Now you get undressed," said Aldo.
She gave him a coy look. "Aren't you going to undress me?"
"No," he shook his head. "Not this time. I'll just watch. Go on."
Feeling just slightly shy-which, she couldn't help thinking, was why Aldo wanted it this way-she began to remove her clothing. At her black lace bra and panties she stopped and looked at her lover-or was it doctor?
"Continue," he said with a smile. "You look beautiful."
She basked in the compliment. Slowly, enjoying it more now, she undid the catch of her brassiere. She let the garment drop to the ground, exposing her swelling breasts. The nipples were already hard.
"Lovely," admired Aldo.
Smiling demurely, Pat inched her panties slowly over her lusciously rounded hips and buttocks, then down around her legs. She stepped out of them and tossed them onto a chair.
"Okay," she said, awaiting orders.
"Over to the newspaper," said Aldo. He picked up the bottle of cooking oil and walked over to where Pat was standing. He unscrewed the cap.
"What are you going to do?" asked Pat.
"You'll see," said Aldo. "Lie down."
She got down on the newspaper on the floor. "Hey!" she exclaimed suddenly as Aldo began pouring the thick amber liquid over her body. "What do you think you're doing!"
"I'm going to make french fries out of you," he answered with friendly sarcasm. "Now just be quiet. Do what I tell you."
Pat frowned, but it was half smile.
"Rub it around your body with your hands," Aldo directed. "That's it. Get it all over."
"My arms too?"
"Arms, legs, breasts, toes-every place."
"Are you sure you're a doctor and not some sort of a nut?" Pat said. Aldo chuckled. "Variety, remember? That's the key.
We've got to keep attacking your blockage from all fronts. And one of these fine days we're going to find the one unguarded route, and we're going to slip through.
Pat scrunched up her face. "This stuff is greasy."
"It's not so bad," said Aldo. "Think of it as suntan lotion."
"Well, what about you?"
He grinned. "I was afraid you were going to ask that."
"Come!" challenged Pat. "You put it on too."
Aldo smiled. "I had planned to."
He sat down next to her on the newspaper and poured the remainder of the liquid over himself. He spread it around quickly. Then he put the bottle over to the side and smiled at her. "Ready?"
"I guess so."
But there was no guesswork about it. Already, Pat was intensely aroused. Every inch of her body, though slippery was alive with feeling. And the sensations were heightened a hundredfold the moment Aldo touched her.
He ran his hand casually over her flat, rippling stomach. She shuddered with delight, then gulped-the way one swallows to brace oneself for the plunge down the first hill on a roller coaster. Aldo's hands slid over her greased body, creating a feeling far more sensual than would have resulted without the cooking oil. It seemed as though all of her skin was super-sexual-rather than just certain areas.
"Wow," she said to Aldo. "This feels fantastic."
"Turns your whole body into one large erogenous zone, doesn't it."
Pat nodded. "Wow."
Aldo continued playing with her, and his fingers felt like a thousand tongues flitting wetly over her body. Her chest heaved with excitement. Her abdomen fluttered at his touch. Now he was running his hands over her breasts, sliding gently around them, making them swell larger, pressing on them, then releasing the pressure and gently tickling the taut red tips. "Aldo, oh Aldo," she sighed.
He smiled at her. "I thought you'd like this. We found in our studies that wetness is more sexy than dryness. It's all a matter of sensation. The nerves in the skin pick up impulses more intensely under oily conditions."
But Pat wasn't interested in scientific explanations. All she could focus on was feeling. Her breath came still faster. She swallowed again, finding it necessary to brace herself once more against this unbelievable onslaught of excitement.
Aldo --edged closer to her, and now she felt his body, as slippery as hers, touching her. His hands continued to caress her, going down now to her legs, running along their tops, then fondling her calves, her ankles, her feet; then back up again to her thighs. He ran his hands around the warmth of her thighs, evoking a delicious gasp from her. She parted her legs under the pressure he was exerting on them. His fingers slid around to the back of her thighs and up under her buttocks, squeezing them, almost lifting her off the newspaper.
She was practically senseless with desire by now. With something of a lunge, she reached out for Aldo's shining body. It felt wonderful to her touch. His shoulders were hard, and sinewy muscle rippled beneath the skin. His chest was tight and the matted hair-his man-feathers, she thought with a surge of love for him-was slippery as the rest of him. Eight knots of muscles descended in pairs down his stomach. And below....
She felt faint. She wanted him more than she had ever wanted anybody before.
"Oh!" she cried in a burst of emotion. She swiveled over him and tried to clutch him to her. The grease made it impossible-and she went sliding over his right shoulder onto the newspaper.
He let out a guffaw, and Pat, too, laughed giddily. And, once started, the laughter was hard to stop. For almost a minute they giggled like children. The excitement and the mirth blended into one. Pat felt dizzy with ecstasy.
They came back together again-softly, so that they wouldn't slide away-and now the excitement began in earnest.
Aldo gently turned her over so that her back was on the newspaper. Then, as she sighed helplessly and delightedly, he covered her body with his own. Pat moaned softly as Aldo slowly pressed closer and closer to her-until he could come no nearer. She panted as his rhythmic motion began.
Gradually her legs parted more and more. They were up in the air now, stretched out as far as they could be. She was clutching his back desperately, digging her nails into his skin. Aldo churned and thrashed against her.
"Aldo!" she cried.
Ignoring her, he drove against her relentlessly. Her teeth were clenched. The sounds of ecstasy came out chipped and garbled. Her toes curled tightly together. Her entire body was tensed.
"Oh, oh, oh!" she sighed loudly.
"Sing to me," Aldo grunted. "Come on, Pat. Let me hear you. Sing. Let yourself go."
It as like being hypnotized. Pat began gasping louder. That was what he meant, she knew. He wanted her to cry out with ecstasy, to let it out of her rather than hold it in.
"Atta girl. Come on."
Pat climbed higher and higher. It was an illusion, she realized dimly, but she felt as though Aldo had raised her to such a pitch of excitement, that all previous sex experiences seemed far inferior in comparison. Captain Brent, Tom, even Aldo himself on prior occasions. She peaked.
Every muscle in her body was as tense as it could be without snapping. Once again, she was on the brink. She was closer than ever this time. Just a hair away it seemed. Each time with Aldo she seemed to get closer.
But still she couldn't, even with Aldo's help, get herself to go over. It was like standing on the tip of a high diving boad, afraid to take the plunge.
Aldo strained against her, and she knew he was finished. And so, for that matter, was she. The sheer physical efforts had exhausted her. Gratefully, she relaxed on the newspaper, with Aldo slumped over her.
She stroked the back of his neck tenderly. He was such a nice man, she thought. So kind, so attentive, so concerned with helping her over her problem.
"Well," said Aldo, after a few minutes. "What do you say we get this junk cleaned off."
"Okay," said Pat. She held out her hand and Aldo hauled her to her feet. She looked down and laughed. The sports page of the newspaper had transferred itself to her leg. Aldo laughed too, and they went into the shower.
They remained there for twenty minutes. For awhile, until she got the grease out of her eyes, everything was a blur.
But all in all, she felt better than she had in a long time. There was definite progress being made. She was almost there. Maybe the next time would do it.
She thought of Tom, and suddenly she knew what she had to do. If she were going to have the ultimate thrill the next time, it was only right that she have her very first one with the guy she really and truly loved.
She stepped out of the shower and stood there while Aldo patted her dry.
Only then did it occur to her that her certainly that her true love was Tom was no longer anything like a certainty at all.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Nevertheless, she telephoned Tom.
He was as happy at the reprieve as a puppy dog kept out in the doghouse all night. He glowed over the phone like a light bulb, and told her he would be right over.
When Pat hung up, she had mixed emotions. It was evening, now; several hours after Aldo had gone. And during those several hours she had debated mightily with herself over the wisdom of calling Tom. Finally, she had decided she might as well. Then, as she'd dialed, she was sorry about her decision. A few moments later, hearing how happy Tom sounded, she was glad she'd called. And now, just seconds after they'd hung up, she had misgivings again.
She was frightened. What if it didn't work? she kept asking herself. What if she couldn't have a success? What if she panicked and they had a fight again? She was shaking with apprehension.
Of course, she told herself, she could simply lie. She could just tell Tom that yes, she had been fulfilled, and that would make him happy, and the problem would be solved.
But would it, really? For how long, she asked herself, could she go on living a lie? Not her whole life, certainly.
No, she had to be honest. Either she made it with Tom or she didn't. She'd just have to try it out and then take the consequences of whatever happened.
For half an hour she fussed around the house, trying to keep her mind off the problem by keeping busy. She put on her sexiest negligee and on top of that a robe. She daubed her muskiest perfume under her ears. Then she bit her lips until the doorbell rang.
Tom looked happier than she could remember having seen him. He bounded in with a bouquet of flowers in his hand and shoved them under her nose. "Hi honey," he said brightly.
Pat smiled, although it was slightly forced. "Hi Tom. Gee, thank you." She took the flowers and sniffed them. "Gosh, they sure are beautiful."
Tom beamed. He reached out to kiss her. For an instant, Pat hesitated; then she came into his arms and pressed her lips up against his. Tom didn't notice her hesitation. He was too enthralled, too in love. Pat, on the other hand, felt nothing at all in his kiss. And a pang of fear shot through her. How, she wondered, was she ever going to get through the rest of the evening?
She'd try harder, that was how. Inwardly gritting her teeth, Pat drew back from Tom's face and smiled. "I'm so glad to see you," she lied, gaining somewhat more confidence in herself as she realized that Tom was completely oblivious to her deceit.
"Same here," said Tom. Taking her hand, he led Pat over to the couch. He sat down, and Pat sat down next to him. She felt herself warming up to him just a little bit. He had, after all, been her boyfriend for a long period of time.
"How've you been?" Pat asked. "Okay," said Tom.
She detected the remnants of hurt in his voice. She lowered her eyes. "I'm sorry, Tom," she said softly.
Tears welled up in both their eyes simultaneously. They groped urgently for each other, embracing tightly. "That's all right, honey," Tom said gently. "We were both upset. I'm sorry too."
They kissed lovingly for several seconds. Then Tom, with an impish look in his eyes, drew back and reached into his pocket. He withdrew the engagement ring that, the last time around, Pat had refused.
"Tom," she said, glowing warmly. "Will you accept it now?" he asked. Her eyes brimmed over again, and she nodded. "Yes," she whispered. "Yes."
Tenderly, he slipped it onto her finger. Pat looked at the sparkling stone. It looked so near-and yet only she could appreciate how far away it still remained. It was precisely as distant as was the solution to her problem-no nearer, no further. She felt a chill pass through her at the thought, and she forced it from her mind.
Tom, of course, had no idea that the problem still existed. As far as he knew, the trouble had blown over. Pat had accepted the ring, and now everything was going to be all right.
"Let's make love," he said to her, looking her in the eye.
Pat swallowed. "Good idea," she said, enunciating the words carefully so that her voice wouldn't crack. Anxiety began building up in her. And she couldn't help but remember Aldo's remark that tension was one of the most frequent causes of frustration.
Tom held her shoulders, gazing into her eyes lovingly. Slowly, he began unbuttoning her robe. Pat felt a certain compassion for him. He was trying so hard, she realized. He cared for her so much.
"I love you," he said.
Pat forced a nervous smile. "I love you too, Tom."
"Don't worry, honey," he said. "You'll have it all this time. I promise you."
Pat felt the cold chill shoot through her again. There he goes, she thought, half angrily. He was still as blind as ever. Even now, even after the fight the other day when she'd thought that maybe, somehow she'd got through to him-even now he was stubborn and stupid and ... young.
Yes, that was it. He was young. He just didn't know any better. He meant well, but he was just unable to understand her needs. For several seconds, Pat yearned to be back with Aldo. She longed for his knowing caresses, his confident knowledge of her innermost feelings and desires, his patient understanding of her problem.
Tensing, she once again blocked the train of thought from her mind. It wouldn't do to be thinking of Aldo while making love with Tom. It would be neither right nor fair nor-more than anything else-a very smart idea. She would have enough trouble making it with Tom alone; doing it with Aldo at her side, so to speak, would make it impossible.
Tom undid the buttons and removed the robe. Pat smiled at him. She took a deep breath, and the movement caused her firm young breasts to slide seductively inside the flimsy fabric of her negligee. She noticed Tom watching them and saw, from his face, how badly he wanted her.
He reached out and touched her through the thin lace. She felt nothing. She sighed, pretending passion. Maybe, she thought, when they got going it would be better.
Tom fondled her. It felt mechanical, as if he'd done it the same way a dozen times before and would always do it the same way until the day he died. He caressed her breasts, he kissed her neck, he nibbled at her ear. She pretended to respond, knowing that he hadn't the slightest idea that she was feeling nothing.
Suddenly he stopped. "What's that?" he asked.
"What's what?" said Pat.
"That." He pointed to the lower shelf of a small coffee table.
Pat followed his finger. "Oh," she said.
Tom frowned. He got up and walked over to the table. From the shelf he picked up a pair of silver cuff links and examined them. "Whose are these?" he asked, still frowning.
"Maybe they're yours,'" said Pat. She knew very well that they belonged to Aldo. Somehow, when straightening up, she had missed them. She hadn't even known he'd left them.
"They're not mine," said Tom.
"Oh," said Pat.
He walked over to her. "Is that all you can say?"
In a flash, all the anger of the other day came flooding back to Pat. Here he was, doing nothing but making her miserable, and still he had the nerve to cross-examine her as though she were on a witness stand.
"Yes," she said, suddenly cold as ice toward him. She no longer cared how much she hurt his feelings. Again, as the day before, she practically hated him; hated all his stuffy, childish notions; hated his narrow way of thinking that had changed her, within a matter of days, from a happy young girl into a nervous wreck. "Yes," she repeated. "That's all I can say." She paused. "Because that's all I want to say."
"Now look," said Tom, and Pat could sense the familiar agner building up in him. "This is not joke. These are not my cufflinks, and I'd like to know whose they are."
Pat stared at him vacantly. "They belong to a friend of mine," she said. Then, more cuttingly: "A male friend. He was here this afternoon."
"Here? In this apartment?"
"On this bed," said Pat nastily.
Tom was momentarily at a loss for words. "Here?" he repeated stupidly. "You mean you-"
Pat stared at him silently, forcing him to finish the thought himself.
"You mean you ... you made ... you were together on the-?"
"Yes," said Pat, somewhat disgustedly. "We made love."
"Oh." Again, Tom floundered. He obviously hadn't expected her to just admit it; it threw him off stride. Pat got a twinge of pleasure at seeing the great Tom Gibson, the future trial lawyer, fumbling like a lad on his first date.
Pat began putting her robe back on.
Tom tried desperately to regain his composure. "Well," he said, half pompously. "You might as well put that thing back on I'm certainly not going to make love to you now. I mean, not after you tell me something like that. You know?" he summed up lamely.
Pat half smirked. She wished she could stop being so mean to him, but she couldn't. "Yes, I know," she said.
"I mean, I just have no interest anymore. You've killed it, that's what you've done. Completely."
"You've killed mine, too," said Pat.
"I mean it," continued Tom, as if he hadn't heard her. "This did it. I'm through."
"Fine," said Pat. "There's the door."
He paused to see if she meant it. She did. And it was hard to out-reject someone who really, truly didn't want you. No matter what you did, the other person always was one step ahead of you.
"Well," said Tom, "you might as well give me the ring back again."
Pat laughed as she pulled it off her finger and handed it over to him. "We're going to wear it out at this rate."
He was unable to appreciate the humor. "You won't have it offered to you again," he said stiffly.
He stood there for a few moments looking at her. "I mean this," he warned her again. "I'm walking out of here, that's it. You won't see me again."
"Promise?" Pat smiled sweetly.
Tom's lips pressed together furiously. "All right," he said tightly. "It's about time somebody put you in your place." He clenched his fists.
Pat drew back, half smiling at him. "Are you going to hit me?"
"No," said Tom. "I'm going to teach you that you don't get away with making a fool of Tom Gibson." He grabbed her by the arm and dragged her back to the sofa.
"Hey," Pat protested. "Let go of me."
"Take your clothes off!" Tom demanded.
"What for?"
"Never mind what for. Take them off."
"No."
"I said yes."
"I don't care what you said," Pat blazed back. "Did you hear me?"
"Get out of her before I call the police."
"You're not calling anybody," said Tom. He pushed ler down on the couch and piled on top of her, using his superior weight and strength to pin her down.
"What are you doing?" Pat complained loudly, struggling to get out from under him.
"You'll see," he said grimly. He grasped the lapels of her robe and yanked downwards. Pop, pop, pop, the buttons flew off. Tom spread the robe open.
"Leave me alone!" snapped Pat. She tried to claw at his eyes, but couldn't get her hand up that far.
"Shut up!" Tom ordered roughly.
Pat began screaming-not out of fear, but fury.
"Shut up!" Tom said again.
"Let me go, you monster!"
"No!"
"Help!"
"Shut up," said Tom. But there wasn't as much conviction this time; he was wavering, and Pat could sense it.
With a burst of strength, she pushed him away. "Don't come near me again!" she shrieked. "Don't touch me!"
Tom just looked at her. He stood there, ready to leap upon her again. But he'd hesitated a second too long. He'd lost the initiative, and now all he could do was stare.
"Get out!" yelled Pat. "You hear me, you dirty filthy animal! Get out of here!" Tom stared at her.
"Move!" he repeated. "Go! Go away!"
Once again, Tom got the puppy-dog look on his face. Without a word, he turned, walked out of the door and shut it quietly behind him.
When he was gone, Pat sat down on the sofa and cried bitterly. Why, why, she kept asking herself, hadn't he continued? Why did he have to give up so easily? Why hadn't he taken her like a man?
And when the tears had all drained out of her, all Pat could think of, over and over again, was: he hadn't even had enough guts to slam the door;
Not even that.
CHAPTER NINE
The next few days passed quietly. Tom, of course, didn't call her. Aldo called once to say hello; but he was too busy to see her. And Captain Brent was on vacation.
So Pat simply involved herself in her work. And during her off hours she read a lot. The contrast with the frenzy of the past few days was a healthy one. She was able to take stock of herself, able to think.
Her problem was far from resolved; she had still not attained full sexual satisfaction. In a sense, it didn't really matter anymore, for her affair with Tom-the guy she had thought she loved-was irrevocably over; and it had only been for him, after all, that she had become concerned with sex in the first place.
In a larger sense, however, reaching fulfillment was as important as ever. Not for Tom, now, but for herself. It had become a challenge, and she knew she would never feel like a complete woman until she met the challenge head-on and ticked it.
Pat came to realize this by talking with, of all people, Maureen Langley-her fellow stewardess, and the girl she had been certain was a lesbian. The two had had lunch together, and Maureen, sensing that Pat was vaguely troubled about something, dared to inquire what it was. Pat wasn't offended. Instead, she jumped at the chance to discuss her problem with another female. In fact, she wondered, as they munched grilled cheese sandwiches at the airport snack bar, why she hadn't approached Maureen herself a long time earlier.
"Because you thought I was a dyke, that's why," said Maureen with a grin, when Pat remarked on her initial reluctance to become friendly with Maureen. "Uh...."
"Come on," said Maureen warmly, brushing her long red hair out of her eyes, "don't feel uncomfortable about it."
Pat smiled. "I guess it was a little unfair of me ... "
"Not at all," said Mareen merrily. "You see, I am."
"A lesbian?"
Maureen nodded. "I'm both, actually. Swing both ways, as they say."
Pat stared at her dumbfounded for a second; then she smiled, beguiled by Maureen's warmth and total lack of either apology or discomfort. "You aren't ashamed," said Pat. "I somehow thought you would be."
Maureen shook her head. "No reason to be. I mean, I don't go around advertising it or anything. Most people aren't advanced enough yet for that. But heck-I am advanced so why should I be all up tight? Right?"
"I suppose so."
"Well sure. After all, it's not the sex that's important, even though most people never open up their minds far enough to go past that point. What counts is the relationship. And heck-you can have just as close and nice a relationship with someone of your own sex as someone of the opposite sex. The actual sex play is really beside the point."
Pat thought about that, then nodded her head emphatically. "I agree," she said. "It makes a lot of sense."
"I'm glad," said Maureen. "I wasn't sure how you'd take it, which is why I never mentioned it to you before."
Pat smiled. "Well, I kind of suspected."
Maureen grinned back at her. "I didn't know it showed."
She took a sip of her chocolate milkshake-a treat which she indulged in often, though it obviously had had no fattening effects on her lissome, curvaceous figure. "What about you?" she asked Pat. "Did you ever try it?"
"With a girl?"
"Uh-huh."
Pat shook her head. She couldn't tell whether or not Maureen was propositioning her; but somehow she wasn't afraid. "Only with men. Mainly with Tom. But lately ... "
She hesitated for a second; then she blurted it all out. She told Maureen about how the trouble with Tom began, how she had met Aldo Mitchell on the plane, how he turned out to be a well-known researcher in the field of sex, how he had offered to help her achieve her goal, and how, though she kept coming closer and closer, she still had not been able to quite make it. The only part of the story Pat omitted was the part concerning Captain Brent; that, she wisely decided, would have been coming too close to home.
Maureen listened with interest. Her attractive green eyes never wavered. Pat got the impression that Maureen was shrewdly evaluating everything she said. And, when Pat had finished, she learned that she was right.
"Your little spat with Tom will pass," Maureen said, with an assurance that suggested she had peered into a crystal ball before speaking.
"You really think so?"
Maureen nooded.
"What makes you say that?"
"Because he loves you."
Pat cocked her head curiously. "How can you tell?"
Maureen smiled. "He made a fool of himself over you, that's how. Nobody does that because they want to. They do it because they can't help themselves. So Tom will eventually be back; don't you worry about that."
Pat made a sour face. "Trouble is," she said, "I'm not sure I want him anymore. I just don't know. I'm all confused."
Maureen seemed unconcerned. "Don't even waste your time thinking about it," she advised. "He'll be there if you want him. And if you decide you don't want him, then you've got no problem." She smiled. "Heck-why get hassled unless there's a good reason to."
Pat laughed comfortably. "I'm sure you're right. Anyway," she said, her mind turning to Aldo, "maybe after I see this sex expert a few more times and succeed in attaining satisfaction, I'll feel differently about things. You know? Like, I'll see everything in an entirely different light."
"I'm sure you will," agreed Maureen. "However-she sounded a note of caution, "don't pin too much of your hopes on this so-called sex expert either. He might be just another fraud, you know."
"Oh no. He couldn't be."
Maureen shrugged. "You never know with men." She grinned impishly. "Or for that matter with women, either."
"Well...." Pat laughed. "No, I really think Aldo is all right. In fact, I'm kind of-" She hesitated. "Falling in love with him?"
Pat grinned. "You know, you must be a mind reader or something."
"Nope. Just a student of human nature. And an amateur at that."
"Well, amateur or not, you're pretty good. Have you got any suggestions as to how to solve my problem?"
Maureen nodded. "Yes, I do." She looked levelly into Pat's eyes. "Try a girl for a change."
Pat looked at her blankly for a second before catching on. "You mean ... you mean you?"
Maureen grinned. "Sure. Why not?" She shrugged her shoulders. "Or somebody else, of course, if you'd prefer. But I do recommend it. It might be just what you need to break the ice."
"What makes you think so?"
Maureen raised her eyebrows, smiling. "It worked for me."
"You had the same problem?"
"Similar. But basically the same. And my first time with a woman did it."
Pat looked at her with curiosity. "I don't see why it would."
"Neither did I-till I tried it. You see, part of it is that our society generally thinks of it as something forbidden. So that adds a certain excitement to it right away. For another thing, a woman will often know how to do things to another woman that a man couldn't possibly know."
"Such as?"
"Why don't I simply demonstrate?"
"Where?" asked Pat, beginning to tremble. "My place," said Maureen. "Okay?" Pat nodded. She already had too many butterflies in her stomach to smile. "Okay," she said. "Now?" Maureen nodded and picked up both checks. "Now."
They were both naked in the living room of Maureen's simply but attractively furnished apartment. Under Maureen's guidance, Pat had undressed her, trembling all the while with a strange kind of excitement that she had never felt before. The sight of Maureen's smooth, upward-tilting breasts filled her with something almost akin to awe. She felt an overwhelming desire to touch them, and Maureen, sensing it, took her hand and guided it over.
The thrill was exquisite. Slowly, savoring every sensation, Pat ran her hands over Maureen's beautiful breasts, exploring territory utterly new to her.
Then Maureen began undressing Pat. That, too, was unbearably sensual. And now, naked, Pat was sitting in a large green arm-chair, willingly taking directions from Maureen who was kneeling before her.
"Slide down more," Maureen told her.
Her pulse hammering, Pat obeyed. She squirmed down in the soft hair, opening her legs as she did so. She gasped involuntarily as Maureen's fingers lightly touched her belly, paused a moment, then moved down slowly.
Pat caught her breath as Maureen touched her. "Oh Maureen," she whimpered, her teeth clenched.
"Shh."
"I love it."
"I know."
"Maureen, you don't know how much, how good you fee' how-"
"Easy does it," Maureen's soothing voice directed. "Just take it easy."
Pat relaxed. Then she abruptly gasped again, as Maureen borrowed her face against her.
Pat's neck arched backwards in blind ecstasy. She reached out her hands and placed them on the back of Maureen's head, pressing her face into her, excitedly-an:' affectionately-stroking Maureen's smooth red hair.
"Oh Maureen," she moaned deliriously. "You're driving me crazy."
There was no reply this time. Maureen's hands held Pat's pliant buttocks tightly, squeezing them, stroking them, drawing them closer to her mouth, which was working furiously: kissing, rubbing, the tongue darting in, then out, then in again; then around and around in slow, tantalizing circles that sent shudders throughout her entire body.
Pat hardly knew what was happening. Everything was blurred. She was aware only of her body, and of the unbearable sensations that were jolting through it.
She slouched down in the chair still further, spreading her legs so that her outer thighs pressed tightly against the arms of the chair. Her hips began moving rhythmically as she was drawn higher and higher by Maureen's expert manipulations.
"Maureen," she groaned helplessly. "Maureen."
Maureen sensed that Pat was almost there. .She began moving her tongue faster, flitting and slapping rapidly, pressing harder.
Pat's breath came faster and faster. She knew she was almost there. If only she could go over. She squirmed wildly against the arms of the chair.
"Maureen!" she shrieked.
She was about to make it. For the first time in her life. She was going, going ... Just one more push would do it. Just a tiny nudge.
But suddenly Maureen was gone. She was sitting a few feet away on the carpet, panting, her face relaxed in exhaustion.
Pat finally managed to find her voice. "What happened?" she asked. "I almost made it."
"I know," said Maureen. "I'm sorry. I couldn't help myself. I was so excited. Next time, Pat. I promise you."
Pat stared at Maureen in disbelief. The disappointment she felt was overwhelming. She had almost made it-and then lost it all at the last second.
But she couldn't be angry. Maureen had tried very hard. And she'd certainly given Pat a thrill that she'd never had before in her life.
"I'm really sorry," Maureen apologized again. "Next time, for sure, it will work out. Next time."
"Okay," said Pat.
But she knew very well that there wasn't going to be a next time with Maureen. The next time was going to be with Aldo. She was totally ready now. She was sure she could have it with him. And what's more, she reflected with a certain amount of happiness, it was now entirely appropriate.
For now there was no longer the slightest question in her mind: She was in love with Aldo.
CHAPTER TEN
She managed to reach him several hours later. Then because he was busy, she had to wait another four hours for him to arrive. By the time he walked into her apartment, a box of chocolates in his hand and a smile on his face, Pat was nearly frantic with frustration.
"I almost died waiting for you," she gushed. She threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. It felt different now-now that she had admitted to herself that she loved him. There was more tenderness, more meaning ... more future?
She briefly wondered about that. Did Aldo love her in return? Of course, she told herself, he must have felt some affection for her. After all, he'd seen her often enough. They'd been intimate often enough. And he was always charming and thoughtful and sweet toward her.
But then again, maybe she was only one more patient; one more poor confused little woman whom Aldo, with his vast fund of knowledge, had magnanimously decided to straighten out.
It was this-this nagging doubt-that made Pat hesitate to tell Aldo how she had come to feel about him. She wanted so desperately to just blurt it out. But something inside her said wait.
"I'm so glad you could come," she said, taking his hand and leading him into the living room. "And thank you for these."
"It's nothing," he smiled. "All they'll do is get you fat. Some favor I'm doing you."
"It's a beautiful thought," she said half dreamily. "That's what counts."
"How've you been?" he asked her.
She shrugged. "Okay, I guess. I missed you a lot."
"Did you?""
She nodded, her eyes shining. She felt nervous. She was making it too obvious how she felt about him. And that was dangerous. She couldn't let him know too soon. That was bad strategy. The words for this evening Were "hard to get"-though not too hard, of course, that she didn't get got.
"Well," he said easily, "here I am. In person, no less." He put his arm around her, led her to the couch and guided her down. "What have you been doing with yourself since we saw each other last?"
"Thinking about you," Pat blurted before she could stop herself. Then she blushed furiously.
"Only that?" he asked.
"Well ... reading a lot. And of course working. And-"
"Yes?"
Pat hesitated. "I suppose I ought to tell you."
Aldo smiled at her knowingly, and it made her feel at ease again. For the moment he was "doctor" again, and that made her comfortable. "It's that sex thing, isn't it?"
She nodded.
"Okay," he said, with a sigh so plainly put on she knew he didn't mean it. "Let's hear about it."
Pat took a deep breath. "It happened this afternoon."
"Here?"
"Yes. And it was ... well, it was with a ... you know, lesbian."
Aldo nodded his head safely. Other than that there was no hint on his face of what he was thinking. "And did you enjoy it?"
"Yes."
"Did you finally make it?"
"No."
"I see." He scratched his chin, as any good doctor would have at that moment. "And is that why you called me? Because you failed?"
Pat shook her head vigorously. "No, no. I-" She wanted to say she'd called because she loved him. But still it wouldn't come out. "I called because I almost made it. And-" she touched his arm "I think I'm ready. I think it will work this time. And I wanted it ... well, to be with you."
Aldo raised his eyebrows. "Hmm," he said, bringing the brows back down into a contemplative frown. "Now that's an interesting switcheroo. For a time there you seemed to want to have your first thrill with Tom. Now me." He looked at her directly. "Why?"
Once again Pat had the opportunity; once again she evaded it. "Because I don't think I love Tom anymore," she said. They looked into each other's eyes for several seconds. If only, Pat prayed, he would ask her if she loved him. That would make it easy to say yes.
But Aldo didn't draw her out any further. He drew back and became the professional again, the sex expert. "All right," he said. "Let's try again." He grinned at Pat's downcast expression. "Come on. This medicine is fun-remember?"
Pat forced a smile and nodded. "How could I forget."
They undressed each other slowly, and, as her excitement rose, Pat soon forgot her anxiety over the technicality of whether or not she had handled the situation correctly. At the moment, it all came naturally; the situation handled itself. She felt, as she always had with Aldo, the delicious sensation of helplessness in his arms. She felt rational thought being exiled from her brain by emotion in revolt. Her body began tingling all over. She planted dream-like kisses onto the underside of his jaw, caressing gently with her fingers the back of his oak-like neck.
"Lie down on the floor," he said to her. Gently, he lowered her. She gazed up at his naked, god-like body with the awe of a child holding a giant. He was beautiful, she thought reverently. He was wonderful. How badly she wanted him-all of him: his body, his mind, and especially his heart.
He peered at her as though he were arranging a store window display and something was out of place. "No, not that way," he said, changing his mind. "Turn over. That's it. On your hands and knees."
And, as obediently as a dog, Pat followed his instructions. She got herself set. Moments later, she felt his hands resting lightly on her shoulders. She swallowed, clearing her windpipe for the gasping she knew he'd soon evoke in her whether she wanted him to or not. Then she felt his body touch her own. She wiggled her bottom, wanting him desperately.
And then he came to her. Slowly, tauntingly at first. She sucked in her breath sharply. She felt his thighs press, against the soft moist backs of hers.
"Aldo...." she crooned softly. She felt incredibly weak.
"Brace yourself," he said.
And he meant it. Within a few moments he was pounding her mercilessly, drawing her higher with each stroke, like sliding a bow across a violin strings, faster and faster, higher and higher pitched. She didn't know if she could bear it. Sometimes he rested his hands on her shoulder blades as he moved, and she could feel his delicious weight crunching down on her, but never hurting her. Then, when he knew it was becoming uncomfortable, he would switch, gripping her instead under her armpits and around her breasts, hauling her back slightly and bracing his own feet solidly on the floor.
Pat moaned and groaned senselessly. Once, while she was grunting and shrieking, she dimly heard Aldo saying "That's the way; keep it up; let yourself go; good girl." But mainly she was lost in a mind-blowing world of her own.
He was holding her by the breasts again now, but he was doing something different. He was pulling her back further than usual, and tipping her to the side. Before she realized what happened, she found herself in the exact same position-in relation to Aldo-as before. Only now Aldo was on his back on the floor....
It was now that the sensation really began to build. From this position he could touch so much more of her. His hips were still squirming and bouncing powerfully; and Pat's bottom, on top of this thrashing hips, moved in rhythm to them. Aldo's hands, meanwhile, were fondling her breasts, enlarging them as he caressed, teasing the red hot nipple into a hardness which it had never reached before. His lips nibbled expertly at her ear, and his tongue explored the ridges and canyons and caves within it. Then his hands slid down to her belly. It fluttered at the unexpected touch.
But the hands didn't remain there long. They crawled lower, augmenting from the front of her what the rest of him was doing from the back. His fingers rubbed and touched and caressed. And then they moved downward still more, reaching around the outside of her legs, reaching down and grasping her buttocks, squeezing them, then moving up the backs of her thighs.
Pat was panting so hard she could barely breathe. Every part of her body, inside and out was trembling. She was rising quickly now. She was sure there was no stopping her. They moved faster and faster.
Suddenly it blurted out. "I love you, Aldo! Oh Aldo, darling, I love you so much! I'm crazy about you!"
It was the release she needed; the barriers had finally fallen. "Aldo!" she shrieked. "Tell me you love me! Tell me, Aldo! Tell me!"
She was starting the long slide she had waited for for so long. She was going.
"Aldo, please! I need it, please! Tell me!"
A wave of horror shoved all sexual feeling out of the way.
He was silent! He wasn't saying a word! "Aldo!" she pleaded. "Now! I'm ready, Aldo! Please don't ruin it for me!"
But it was already ruined. The headlong descent into oblivion that had begun so beautifully turned sour so quickly she could taste it. It was over. She'd lost it. I was curdling within her like a raw egg broken suddenly into a pot of boiling water.
His motion stopped. He helped her off him. She turned to look at him, her face covered with disbelief. "Aldo," she said. "How could you! Didn't you hear me? Didn't you-?"
Suddenly she felt intensely ashamed. "Aldo," she said softly, covering her mouth. "You don't love me." She shook her head dumbly, as if still unable to believe it. "You really don't."
His face looked genuinely concerned. "No, Pat," he said as gently as he could. "I'm afraid I don't. I like you ... I like you very much. But...."
"Then why did you?" Pat's humiliation was quickly turning to rage.
"Because I wanted to help you. You said you needed help, so I tried to give it."
"But why ... why did you let me do this? You knew I loved you. Why did you let me make such a fool of myself?"
"I didn't, Pat." He was trying to be soothing. "Up until a half hour ago I was under the impression that you loved Tom. That's what you told me."
"But couldn't you tell that it had changed? Didn't you know that it was different tonight? Couldn't you sense it?" She twisted her lips bitterly. "You're so smart in every other area."
"Yes, I did sense it," said Aldo, his voice, too, growing harder now. His patience with Pat's hysterics was wearing thin. "That's why I didn't tell you I loved you. I had to let you down sometime, and the sooner the better. I didn't want to keep leading you on-now that I knew."
Pat looked at him horrified. Her eyes were wide. "But why at that moment? Why couldn't you have let me have my moment and then told me?"
Aldo got to his feet. He was annoyed now. "Because that was the first moment you had said anything. That's why. Now, if you're so concerned about not making a fool of yourself, why don't you pipe down and take this like a grownup."
"A grownup!" Pat shrilled. "After what you've done to me? You, the great sex expert. Hah. I bet you're no more sex expert than I am."
"Correct," said Aldo coldly.
Pat stopped short and looked at him. "What did you say?"
"I said correct." He stared at her like an iceberg.
Pat's mouth hung open. It was the biggest shock of all. "But ... you said on the plane...."
"I say that to every girl I meet," said Aldo without compassion. "It's impressive. Besides, I may not have credentials with any Reichenbach Institute in Austria-because in fact it doesn't even exist-but in personal experience I have more than enough. You don't need a degree to know what you're doing."
"You lied to me."
"Not in actuality, only technically. Now shut up and stop acting like such a child. I did my best and you loved every minute of it. If you can't handle a man, then stick with little boys like what's-his-name."
"Tom!" Pat hissed.
"Yes, Tom. Maybe he can put up with this, but I certainly don't intend to."
Pat was close to hysteria again. "Well, neither do I!" she hollered as loud as she could into his face. Stay here if you want! I'm leaving."
She bolted for the door, but Aldo caught her by the arm. "You don't have any clothes on."
"I don't care!" she shrieked. "Let me go!"
"No," said Aldo. He swung her back into the living room, tossing her onto the sofa. His voice was loud and angry and commanding. "Now sit there until I tell you, you can get up," he told her.
She rose defiantly, and he brutally knocked her down again.
"Stay there," he ordered.
Again she rose. Again he tossed her roughly back onto the couch. But this time he made no more threats. He reached over to the table where a glass vase filled with water was holding the flowers Tom had brought her. He pulled the wet flowers from the vase and threw them into her face.
Her teeth were clenched like a cornered rodent's. She was purple with rage. She started to rise again to charge into him-but he was faster than she was. Before she could lift herself from the couch, the balance of water in the vase hit her square in the face.
For a moment she blubbered helplessly. Then, momentarily subdued, she looked up at him as he came over and grasped her by the wrist.
And she realized, by something in his eyes and his manner and his grip that he wasn't going to be put off so easily as Tom.
He was all man-and though she resented it bitterly at the moment, she knew at last what the difference was.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Still, she hadn't accepted it. He was all man, that she had to concede. But until she gave herself up to him, he hadn't beaten her. Now she was glad that she hadn't had fullfillment with him. That would have been giving him everything. She was glad she had held back. Telling him she loved him was only a phrase that would soon be forgotten. But yielding herself to him fully, that would have been worse than death.
And not just with him; with any man.
She looked up at Aldo. It was as if he had suddenly read her thoughts. His eyes still wide and full of fight, his breath still labored, his iron grip still vised around her arm, he lectured her like a little schoolgirl.
"Now do you nab your problem?" he challenged her. "Now do you see it clearly? You resent men; you hate them; you fear him. Something inside you wants them very badly; but something else even stronger overrules that part and says no."
Pat stared at him, her eyes wide and blazing and stubborn.
Aldo continued: "That's why you can't make it. Because you can't let yourself go. Because you can't ever, ever let yourself be in a position where a man can be stronger than you. That's why you did what you did to Tom. That's why you made such a sap out of him. Because you fear all men, and you've got to destroy them before they destroy you. The only reason you didn't try it with me was because you knew that I wouldn't let you. get away with it. But all I would have had to do would have been to give you half a chance; just one little opening. And you would have come slashing in like a wild animal, cutting and clawing and slicing."
He took a deep breath. "What was it, Pat? A rotten father? Was your father drunk all the time? Did he beat you? Did he beat your mother? Did he desert you? What was it? What caused all the resentment?"
Pat swallowed hard. He was hitting too close to truths she'd buried in her mind years and years ago-because they were too painful to keep out in the open. Yes, her father had been a drinker. A rip-roaring bull of a man, a man who, for the first five years of her life, she'd adored more than any living creature on the face of the earth.
And then he had let her down. Drinking. Vulgar language. And yes-even beating her.
He had died a few years later, when she was nine. But the damage had been done. The seed had been planted, over the years to grow and prosper, like an ugly cancer, eating away at her so insidiously that she didn't even know it was happening.
Until tonight.
"Get down on the floor," said Aldo.
She resisted, and he pulled her off the couch and threw her face-down on the floor. She struggled, but he was too powerful. Then he pinned her down.
"No!" she hissed grimly. "No!"
"You have no choice. Save your breath."
"I don't want to."
"I don't care." .
"Stop it!"
Aldo didn't even bother to answer her. He held her tightly and pressed himself against her.
She screamed in pain. "No! No! Aldo, you're hurting me! That's the wrong way!"
"Quiet."
She shrieked again. "Aldo, you're going to kill me! Stop it!"
He pressed against her harder. She no longer resisted.
All she could do was grit her teeth against the pain-th pain and the indignity. Anger welled up in her again. He was humiliating her, deliberately grinding her into the dirt.
"Tell me you love me again," Aldo demanded, his face firm. "Never!" He drove harder. "Tell me!"
"No!"
His movements came faster and faster. For several seconds the pain was so unbearable Pat thought she was going to pass out. Then the pain lessened, displaced by growing excitement. A wave of shame passed over her as she realized what was happening. She tried to stop it, but she couldn't. It was just the reverse of all the other times. Then she had tried to increase sexual desire to the point of no return, but couldn't. Now she was trying to suppress her feelings, and they continued to rise anyway.
"Tell me you love me," Aldo demanded again.
"No!"
The pain was gone now. All Pat knew was the insane sexual desire growing stronger and stronger no matter how hard she tried to fight. Involuntarily, she moved her bottom to get him closer to her. Instantly, she hated herself for it.
"Tell me!"
She didn't answer him. She had no will to say no anymore, but she prayed for the strength not to say yes.
He was indefatigable. He went on and on. She rose rose higher and higher. She clamped her eyes and her mouth shut tightly as she tried fighting it.
"Come on," he coaxed, knowing she was weakening. "Let me hear it."
She had no strength anymore. All she wanted was relief and peace and sleep. "I love you," she said, spitting the words out.
"Not good enough," Aldo rejected. "Again."
"I love you."
"Come on, Pat. Like you mean it."
"I love you."
"Again!"
Tears were running down her cheeks. He was making her grovel like a dog-the way, all her life, she had wanted to make men grovel. "I love you," she sobbed.
And then, at last, she surrendered; and the moment Aldo heard her voice, he knew it was real. At that moment, she did love him. Completely. Not just in words, but in her heart, her mind, her throbbing loins.
He wrenched himself away from her, and she felt immediate relief. Even the slightest remnant of pain was gone now. A moment later he was upon her again-the right way this time.
She drew in her breath as he began. Her sensitized body shot up to the heights in seconds. And there was no stopping her now. Aldo had broken the barrier. Both by deceiving her about being associated with a sex institute and by forcing her to have sex against her will, he had beaten her into submission. Now, at last, she knew in her bones that she was a woman.
His body moved faster and faster upon hers. He was all hard and sweaty, and he smelled of musk. He pounded against her buttocks relentlessly, and she thrashed and squirmed along with him.
Her breath was hissing loudly; her pulse cracking like a machine gun. Her body was a mass of exquisitely tingling needles. Her eyes were tightly shut, her teeth gritted, her fists clenched. She was at the peak now, the pinnacle from which she'd never been able to leap.
And then it happened. Exploding all over her like an atom bomo; blasting through her; rocking her this way and that; wave after wave; wallop after wallop; fireworking through her body to every cell and nerve.
Centuries later it was over. She lay there in a heap, Aldo still beside her. Both of tnem lay still, trying to catch their wind.
Finally Aldo stood up. He reached down and helped her to her feet. They looked at each other for several moments. Pat gave him a small smile. "Thank you," she said softly.
He smiled back. "You're welcome."
She lowered her eyes. "I'm sorry I acted like such a baby."
He tousled her hair kindly. "Forget it. We all do at times."
"Aldo?"
"Yes?"
"I-" She hesitated. "I don't really love you." She smiled warmly. "I mean ... I realize that now."
He smiled understandingly. "Of course, I know you don't. I knew it all along. You only loved me for that one brief moment, and that was an intense emotional love brought about by years of suppression. The guy you really love is Tom. You always have."
Pat smiled gratefully. How hard it was to become a woman; how easy once you got there. She wondered if it were equally hard to become a man; and she promised herself to be more understanding of Tom.
Aldo got into his clothes and prepared to leave. "I won't be seeing you anymore," he said. Then, with a grin: "The case is closed. You'll be all right on your own from now on."
Pat looked at him with deep affection. There was one thing more she wanted to know. "What's your line of work?" she asked him. "I mean, all this time I thought you were a researcher. But what do you really do?"
Aldo looked at her with amusement; but she knew that he was telling the truth. "I'm a shoe salesman," he said. "I visit retailers in various cities and peddle sandals and such."
Pat had to giggle. "Gee, a shoe salesman! I never would have suspected." Then, unable to resist a last friendly dig, she added: "So I guess you're not anything like a sex expert at all."
Aldo opened the door, turned, gave her a mock pugnacious look and touched his forehead with his fingers in a salute of goodbye. "Not a sex expert?" he said, walking out of the door and out of Pat's life. "Then who, may I ask, gave you your first thrill-the Man in the Moon?"
CHAPTER TWELVE
It was too late to telephone Tom that night, but she called him the first thing in the morning.
"It's me, Tom," she said, somewhat breathlessly. She felt nervous, afraid he wouldn't want her back.
There was a moment of silence. She could almost hear him stiffen. "Oh ... hello Pat."
"Um ... are you okay?"
"Yeah. I guess so. Not bad." There was distrust-and well justified-in his voice. "What are you doing?"
"Not much," said Tom. He gave a short laugh. "Thinking, I guess."
"About what?"
Now she could almost hear him shrug; she knew his every reaction like she knew her own face. "Nothing special," he said. "And you?"
"I want to see you," Pat blurted.
There was another pause. "Are you sure."
"Positive, Tom. I never was so sure about anything in my life. I know I have no right to ask you to forgive me ... but...."
"You said some pretty mean things."
"I know. I couldn't help myself, darling. Really I couldn't. I understand that now. I can explain it all to you when I see you." She paused. "I mean ... it you want to see me."
She heard him swallow. "You know I do," he said. "Well, then hurry," she said desperately. "I want you so bad, Tommy. Don't make me wait." She felt him smile. "I'll be right over," he said.
Pat knew she looked beautiful when Tom walked in. She felt beautiful. She felt like a woman. She felt content. And there was something about Tom, too, that seemed to have changed. Either he, also, had grown in the last couple of weeks, or else, as a new woman, Pat was simply seeing him differently.
Either way, it didn't matter. She felt blissfully happy. She was only Tom's girl friend now, but someday, she knew, in her heart, that she meant every syllable.
Tom closed the door, and they kissed tenderly. "I love you," he said softly.
The words sounded beautiful to Pat. She had almost brought things to the point where she might never have heard them again. "I love you too," she said. And she knew, in her heart, that she meant every syllable.
They sat down in the living room, and Pat told Tom everything. That is, almost everything. She told him about Aldo, but didn't mention that it had happened more than twice. And she omitted any reference to Maureen or Captain Brent. What she did explain in detail, however, was the psychology behind the blockage that had caused her so much trouble. When she was finished, it was as though an ugly vulture had been pried from her back. And she could tell that Tom was relieved that it was all out in the open now, and that it was no longer a problem.
"Come here," said Tom softly. He took her hand and led her to the bedroom.
She followed him happily. None of the fear of the other two times was present. And none of the anger and resentment.
Gently, Tom took her in his rms. "I'm going to marry you," he told her. "I know," she smiled. "Then you accept?"
"With all my heart," she answered. She stretched her neck and pecked him on the lips. "Sealed with a kiss," she said.
"Sealed," he verified.
They kissed each other silently for several minutes. Then, without a word, Tom began slowly undressing her.
Pat felt herself trembling with desire for him. She knew, now, the difference in her feelings for Tom and for Aldo-or even, for that matter, with Captain Brent. With the pilot and-she still had to smile to herself when she thought about it-the so-called sex expert it was nothing but raw, violent sex. Exciting, perhaps, but ultimately so empty. But with Tom it would be full and meaningful. There was love between them, and respect.
And that made all the difference.
Pat shuddered joyfully as Tom unbuttoned her blouse and took it off. She raised her arms as he reached around her to undo the catch to her brassiere.
He hugged her to him. "You're luscious," he said.
She sighed and kissed him warmly. "I love you, Tom."
He led her to the bed. Together they sat down on it. They kissed. She felt his warm palm over heyr breast. With her own and, she pressed it against her.
They lay back on the bed together. Tom kissed her. tenderly on the mouth.
Pat gasped with pleasure as he ran his lips down along her neck, kissing the firm flesh, snaking his tongue into her ear.
"Oh Tom!" she moaned.
"Pat," he said excitedly.
He brought his face down to her full breasts.
"Tom," she gasped.
He ran his tongue around the nipples. They became hard and sensitive. She trembled with excitement.
"Don't stop kissing me there," she said.
"I love you," he replied. "I love you."
His hands reached down to her skirt. Slowly, he drew it up around her thighs. She arched her back with pleasure. He rolled down her stockings and threw them onto a chair. His fingers ran hungrily around her thighs, reveling in their softness.
She churned with him excitedly. He was molding her like putty. She knew he was going to be better even than Aldo. And that was saying a lot. She could hardly wait.
"Hurry," she begged him.
Excitedly, he removed her panties. Then she pulled down the zipper of her skirt and took it off. She lay there naked, holding her arms out to him.
"Hurry," she said again. "I want you so badly."
Hurriedly, Tom removed his clothes. Then he was lying beside her. She shivered with passion.
"I love you so much," she murmured into his chest.
"Darling," he said.
"Come to me, sweetheart."
They held each other tightly, moving rhythmically together as if they were dancing to music that only they could hear.
"I can't wait anymore," she said.
Then she was blinded by the excitement that rose within her like an exploding volcano, overpowering her, carrying her to heights that exceeded even that milestone eruption the night before with Aldo.
She felt a warm sensation of love as she caressed Tom, the man she loved. And then they reached a peak together and subsided into a drained and empty heap on the rumpled bed.
After a few minutes, Pat was calm enough to speak. "That was wonderrul," she said with a smile. She touched his body gently with her hand. "You're marvelous."
"You too," he said. He moved her so that her head was resting in the crook of his arm. "I love you, Pat."
"I love you, Tom," she said.
She lay m his arms peacerully', staring at the ceiling. Everthing, she knew, was going to be all right. She had the man she wanted most in the entire world.
And when Tom slipped the engagement ring on her finger for this, the third, time, Pat knew without a shadow of a doubt that this time it was on her finger to stay.
