The average American is supposed to be, first and foremost, a citizen of the most democratic country on earth-a person who, within reasonable limits, can choose exactly what he wants to be and what he wants to do. At the same time, our huge and highly successful commercial establishment has succeeded admirably in its self-appointed task of turning us into a nation of consumers-a captive audience whose choice is not whether to buy, but which product among a sea of colorfully advertised, heavily promoted items we will actually pay our money for.
Commenting on this situation from her reasonably objective vantage point as writer for The Sunday Times of London, the perceptive critic Germaine Greer had the following to say:
"Imagine, your job is to persuade folk to munch more of a particular brand of, say, codeine tablets. Yours not to fuss about whether they need the tablets, or whether the tablets can do them any good. Cheerfully the problem is posited: 'How to sell more of Xanadun?' And pat comes the answer: 'We must stimulate a demand for regular, repeated and if possible escalating dosages.'
"In this spirit the advertising campaigns are organized; all problems of the organism are mustered under the heading tension. A logo is devised-perhaps a line drawing of the human (female usually) head and shoulders gripped in cruel bands of tension.
"The most sinister aspect of the chatty, amoral style of the professional persuaders is that when they are forced to refer in a pronoun to the helpless, psychoanalyzed, dopey buyer of anything that is sold, that pronoun is usually she.
"A habit-forming drug is a perfect commodity, and heroin, of which very few doses are enough to ensure the need for regular, escalating consumption, is the paragon. In the New York subways one may see beautifully designed, five-foot high posters showing in four colors, back-lit and immaculately photographed, all the beautiful drugs one may buy in any school playground. And above or below, that infallible sales gimmick, 'Don't.'
"It is hard to believe that the New York antidrug campaign has been organized by an agency unaware of the persuasive power of their graphics and the perversity of their wording.
"The machinery of advertising is geared to sell-it cannot be applied to extinguish an existent demand. It operates automatically in the same old way-'Buy, buy,' the heroin posters are really saying, 'and you too may be the possessor of this larger-than-life brawny arm, and this snazzy tourniquet. You too can be a hero and get your picture in the subway. Dig my gleaming syringe.'"
This is very trenchant thinking, and an important message in itself. It treats seriously the important problem of how consumers are being influenced to buy things they don't need or even really want-things, indeed, that may be harmful to them. It considers the further complication that any advertising message will influence its recipients in a positive way; i.e., that they will go out and buy something, not resist buying it. But it ignores, to a large extent, the people who are creating those advertising messages, who are after all fallible human beings themselves.
The Very Private Secretary is a novel-and, we feel, an important one-about the advertising business and the living, breathing people who work in it. Its protagonist is Reid Hartley, who enjoys an enviable reputation in the profession but lately has been in a severe slump. Somehow, the old glibness which enabled him to devise highly successful ad campaigns in the past has deserted him... and, perhaps, he has begun to question some of his own basic assumptions. Because of this, he has decided to take a three-week "working vacation" at Malibu Beach, where he hopes to come up with acceptable ideas for the Wonder-Lift bra and Gibbons toothpaste accounts. The work does not go well, however.
The situation does not improve when he meets Mona Seagram, with whom he had a highly romantic affair when she was only fifteen years old. In fact, he starts to think of her constantly, and finds himself completely unable to concentrate on his work. But when Reid and Mona finally achieve a relationship that is both romantic and sexual, he suddenly begins to enjoy miraculous success again. Even so, there are human problems and conflicts that have to be ironed out, and therein lies a highly intriguing story....
There have been other important novels about the advertising business before this one: The Hucksters by Wakeman and Aurora Daunt by Wouk to name only two that come immediately to mind. But we, as publishers of Dansk Blue Books, think that this one stands on its own feet. It has some new insights to reveal about the people who work in advertising-and it shows those people as fully fleshed, three-dimensional human beings with their own fears, doubts, and worries. We think it is a very real achievement for author Karl Rockwood, and a book that every American consumer will profit by reading.
The Publishers
Chapter One
In all of his advertising copy writing, Reid Hartley felt torn between trying to be honest while, at the same time, selling the products he wrote about so that Mr. and Mrs. America would rush to their neighborhood stores and buy everything from toothpaste to brassieres, from chewing gum to toilet paper. It was a tough job but, even though it paid well, sometimes he wanted to chuck it all and say "fuck it." Also, sometimes he ran out of ideas. Sometimes he went dry. So now he sat working in the beachfront Malibu cottage, hoping this three-week "working vacation" might restore some of his old glibness that had taken him to the top of his profession.
Dr. Smacko toothpaste whitens those teeth... brightens that smile... fetches sex contacts beyond the user's wildest dreams... opens the doorway to orgies, promotion on your job, raises the I. Q., eliminates all dreaded diseases and will even enable you to become a concert violinist if you so desire. Yes, just few brushings with Dr. Smacko and you too can perform in Carnegie Hall. Sound fantastic? Well, folks, it's really remarkably easy....
He was kidding now, of course-bullshitting because he could not think of a goddam thing to say. He was completely out of gas and he just sat there writing ridiculous ad copy to pass the time. In a way, it was relaxing.
In your new 'Way-Out-Front bra, you'll be a new woman. Married? Your husband won't even recognize the flat-chested broad he married! Single? Well, girls, you can casually nudge eligible males with those nicely contoured mammaries -tits-(thanks to 'Way-Out-Front) and bring them to instant orgasm. Yes, those well-built and totally desirable millionaires you've been trying to attract will achieve instant orgasm -literally come in their pants and want only you... you... you! Have the most beautiful set of tits in your neighborhood... in the universe! Buy 'Way-Out-Front and score!
The noise of the typewriter keys was becoming unbearable, and the rattan-furnished room seemed to be closing in on Reid Hartley, ex-ace copywriter. He withdrew the sheet of paper from the typewriter, wadded it up, and threw it in the waste basket. Then he went over and stared out at the sea. Whitecaps curled futilely in the dusk and he stared at them as he listened to the boom of the surf. The sound reminded him vaguely of the sounds of the New York subway he had known as a boy, except, of course, here there was a breeze and solitude and loneliness. And failure. He sighed, disgusted with the way the advertising campaigns were going.
Three months ago he had quit his job at the Murdoch Agency and switched to the Luben Agency. The switch, he had thought, would bring about the necessary jolt he needed to return him to his former "creative" self. Ha! Shit! The Luben Ad Agency, it had occurred to Reid, would offer more in the way of interesting and challenging campaigns. They had more and better accounts.
But he was still in a slump. The campaigns he had devised had not gone that well. In fact, out of the past five campaigns-all key accounts-three had been rejected, and the two that were acceptable had proved only adequate. Barely passable. So now he was in trouble at Luben's and growing weary of working under pressure and growing criticism and all that made up the advertising business. It was as though he had never before in his life devised a successful campaign and never would again.
Reid stood a moment longer, staring at the sea. Then he slipped on his canvas jacket and fled from the room. It was a pleasant evening-cool, but not too cool-and he walked along the beach, shoulders slumped, scuffing his tennis shoes in the sand, hands in the pockets of his jacket and thought: All right, the ad campaigns have not done as well as expected but you're free. Actually, you don't have to go anywhere in particular. You don't have to be anyone in particular. You were successful for a while-very successful -and you've got plenty of money in the bank. So why tear yourself up? Relax, baby, relax. You don't have to humble yourself to anybody. Nobody. Screw 'em.
He passed a few people on the beach and wondered if they thought he was a bum and, for just a moment, he wished he had a long, navel-length beard. Suddenly he straightened his shoulders. Damn it, he thought, there are plenty of good campaigns in me yet.
He had walked perhaps a mile when he came to a huge cluster of rocks. At night, the beach was usually fairly dark, only the porchlights of the beachfront houses illuminating small patches of sand, but since recent muggings (rumor had it that a body was found near the rocks a few months ago) a kind of floodlight had been installed up near the coast highway to light the rocks at night. The rocks presented something of an obstacle. Reid went up the incline to the highway and walked another quarter mile or so until he came to a small antique shop. He would have passed the store but he sighted Mona Seagram, a beautiful brunette with long, straight hair. Mona could not be over eighteen, maybe younger, and he barely recognized her. It had been nearly two years since he had last seen her. She was the daughter of wealthy Cecil Seagram, the head of a rival ad agency Reid had been friendly with for several years. Reid had heard she had dropped out of college, much to her distinguished father's disappointment, and had taken up a somewhat "artsy" life.
Reid entered the shop and stood studying her from a distance. Yes, he was positive it was Mona Seagram-the same Mona Seagram who had blatantly played sex games with him when she had been only fifteen!
He vividly recalled that afternoon in the Seagrams' backyard swimming pool. He had been divorced barely a year, and Mona's father had invited him over for the afternoon to discuss enlisting him in the Seagram Agency. Cecil's offer had been a good one, but he had been reluctant to make a change. Things were going too well where he was. They had been chatting out on the patio and watching the already voluptuous and extremely well-developed Mona paddle about the pool in her skimpy bikini, when Cecil received an urgent telephone call that had taken him away for several hours. He had promised to be back as soon as possible, but his absence proved just long enough for his delectable young daughter to lose her virginity. Mona's mother had passed away while Mona was a little girl and so there had been absolutely no interference that afternoon. None whatsoever.
As soon as Cecil Seagram had departed, young Mona had emerged dripping from the pool and flopped into the lounge chair beside Reid. "You're nice-looking," Mona had said, running her eyes peculiarly over his body.
He had thought her forwardness mere naivete or a product of his imagination at first, but he was soon to learn differently. "Thank you," he had said. "That's a very nice compliment to pay an older man like me."
"Older?" she had repeated, smiling coquettishly. "You're not as old as my daddy."
"No, no," he said. "I guess not." He wondered just what her father's age had to do with their conversation. Embarrassed yet, despite himself, he found himself sexually drawn to this young beauty. He restrained himself mightily. After all, she was the daughter of Cecil Seagram and he knew he dare not permit himself any hanky-panky with the daughter of a man who was a giant in the advertising game. With effort, he avoided staring at her ripe curves, the full breasts with the nipples so apparent through her wet bikini halter.
"Have many boyfriends?" he found himself inquiring. "I imagine you have quite a few male admirers?" He laughed nervously, aware that his inquiry was not without sexual implications.
"Admirers, yes," she replied. "Boyfriends?" She shrugged. "Who needs them? I-I have Daddy."
"Well, yes, naturally," Reid said. "But that's not quite the same, is it?"
Then, staring directly at his crotch, she blinked her long lashes and said, "Isn't it?"
Her boldness had his heart pounding insanely. Could he possibly be misinterpreting her meaning? Was she suggesting something incestuous with the highly renowned and distinguished Cecil Seagram? And why was she staring directly at his prick that way-her eyes filled with a lust and desire incomprehensible in a girl of her tender years? In spite of his efforts at control, he found his rod growing within his bathing suit, jutting up and protruding hard against the cloth so that it was painfully apparent. He crossed his hands on his lap to hide his full erection and directed his attention at the landscape, the city of Beverly Hills below, at anything that would dissipate his aroused organ.
"I can see you're twice as big as Daddy," Mona said. "You don't have to hide it. I think it's pretty. Would you take it out so I can see it?"
At first, Reid had been dumbstruck by her directness. Finally, when he had regained his composure, he managed to say, "Mona, I don't think this-this kind of conversation is proper between us. Your father, I'm sure, would not approve."
She broke up, giggling, and then went over and sat down beside him. Their bare legs touched and, once again, Reid felt his hard-on jerk to its full length. "Daddy's been playing around with me for years," she said, stroking the bulge in his bathing suit. "Ummm, you do have a nice big one, Reid. And it's so-so hard. Yes, Daddy and I have lots of fun playing with each other. I mean, he doesn't actually stick it in-at least not in my pussy-but we play lots of fun games that feel nice and he taught me how to come and feel all tingly and I jack him off sometimes and watch his stuff spout out-just like a whale. Do you spurt just like a whale, too?"
Once again, despite himself, Reid could not remove her hand that caressed his scrotum. Her fingers were running maddeningly over his scrotum, tickling the length of his rigid shaft and fondling its dribbling head. He could feel the dampness, the slippery feeling of semen between his abdomen and the head of his bone-hard penis as the young hand massaged and worked with incredible experience. So the dignified and respectable Cecil Seagram had been fooling around with his own daughter for years! His brain told him that this delicious young thing beside him was lying, but her experienced fingers removed all doubt.
She removed her bikini top then to let him stare at her twin, ripe titties and her small hand continued its mission of pleasure. "Nobody can see us here, Reid," she said. "Honest. We can do anything we want. Absolutely anything. I told you that Daddy never actually stuck it inside me. I-I'm simply dying of curiosity. Would you be the first one to show me? Please?"
When Reid spoke, his voice was all trembling. "Do you approach many of-of-your-father's friends this way?"
She shook her lovely head. "No, you're the first. I wanted to wait for the right one. Would you fuck me, Reid? Would you show me what it's really like? Daddy just does it to me in the bottom and-well, it sort of hurts even though he uses Vaseline. When he just puts it between my legs but doesn't really stick it up inside, it nearly drives me crazy. It may feel good for him, but it just frustrates me even though he finishes me with his finger and makes me come."
There was pathetic, pained look on her beautiful features. "I'm sort of virgin who isn't a virgin, if you know what I mean. I guess Daddy's afraid of making me pregnant, so he never sticks his thing inside me, but he's used a vibrator that looks sort of like a cock on me a couple of times. What I mean is, I wouldn't bleed or anything. You could-you could get your cock in me, all right."
"Oh, my God," Reid said, covering his face with his hands.
Mona, her bare titties glistening in the sun, tugged at his trunks and in a moment she had them down to his knees and was staring enraptured at his hard-on while rolling it between her soft hands. "It really is a beauty, Mr. Hartley," she said. "Prettier than any of the dollies I ever had."
Why she suddenly reverted to calling him by his last name, Reid did not know. He only knew that he was going to do everything Miss Seagram desired and more and he hoped to sweet Jesus her father didn't return home while he was doing it. God, no. Anything but that! Still, he rationalized, Cecil Seagram was more at fault than himself. Cecil Seagram had indoctrinated his own daughter to the world of sexual delight without permitting her the ultimate delight. Cecil owed it to his daughter to fuck her, correct? Of course. He, Reid Hartley, was merely fulfilling the game the dirty old man-the genius of the advertising business-had begun. And if Cecil Seagram should arrive and find his daughter getting fucked and sucked, just what the hell could he do about it? Not a goddam thing....
"I want to kiss it the way Daddy likes it," she said. "Okay?"
Reid reached up and began kneading her firm, young breasts. "Okay," he gasped. "Whatever you say."
"I've been just aching to do this to somebody besides Daddy," she said. "This is going to be something I'll never forget. I just know it."
She dropped to her knees beside him then and held his legs close to her cheek. Then she slowly began folding his enormous penis, rubbing it against her hot cheek. He could not get the idea from his mind that she was about to munch on a male cock other than her father's for the first time. He, Reid Hartley, would be the recipient of all that Cecil Seagram had patiently taught his daughter. In a way, it would be a kind of initiation-no, a post-graduate course. She began kissing his erect organ, kneeling there beside him under the afternoon sun, and he watched as her full lips showered his rod with wet kisses.
"Mona," he breathed, trying valiantly for the last time to dissuade her, although he would probably have gone insane if she had stopped, "this-this isn't necessary." He began lifting her, trying feebly to pull her away from his aroused organ before she committed herself completely. "You-you really shouldn't be doing this, Mona... it... isn't-"
He broke off as she took the full length of his prick into her mouth, so that it seemed to descend down deep into her throat, and began nursing, nibbling at the big head, kissing his balls and fluttering her tongue up and down until the engorged rod became like a rock-hard salami in her mouth. She backed away briefly and stared at the giant, erect hunk of meat lovingly. "Oh, I wish you had been the one to teach me," she whimpered. "I wish you had been the one to teach me instead of Daddy."
"Nobody... ever had... to... teach you anything, Mona," Reid moaned. "God, you must have always known... you... had to... you always knew."
It was true. She was, as they say, a natural born cocksucker. He began tugging at the back of her head, setting the tempo, running his big hands through her still-damp, dark hair as he fucked her hot, lapping mouth. She was kneeling there, worshipping at the altar of his penis, drawing his big prick deep into her throat, moving slowly at first so that he could watch his glistening organ rub against the folds of her full lips as it penetrated and withdrew, slid noisily and wetly in and out of her starving mouth. "Suck, baby. Suck," he said.
Cecil Seagram, I love you even if you are a rotten son of a bitch, he thought. The last remnant of his earlier reluctance vanished as Mona's soft young hands groped gently at his testicles and her head began bobbing faster, increasing the speed of her mouth slipping back and forth over his foreskin and down as far as she could go toward the thick base of his stiff prong. "Mona, baby. Oh, yeah," he murmured, not thinking about her father, not thinking about anything except the hungry mouth that was driving him out of his mind. "The best ever, baby. Oh, yes... suck it hard... yeah...."
Now Reid clutched Mona's head hard with one hand and palmed her indented cheek with the other, clutched her desperately, harder, harder still, as she worked feverishly to bring him to completion. Once, she glanced up at him as though to check his facial expression, to be certain she was performing the service to his satisfaction. Then, satisfied that her laving tongue was delivering the pleasure she hoped it was, she resumed her labor once again with even greater intensity. She sucked harder, harder Reid guessed than she had ever sucked any cock before, including her father's.
Reid began rotating his hips frantically, gyrating and driving pistonlike into the tight, wet mouth, slamming his prick home mercilessly again and again, while the nymphet dining at his genitals mewed. Her saliva and his love fluid were dribbling down her chin and onto his hands that squeezed her breasts. It was likely that this would be the one and only time he would ever stick his cock into this young mouth and, even though he knew he was taking advantage, stealing this orgasm from her tutor, her father, he wanted to make the most of it. Besides, she loved it. He could tell. Her father had developed her latent cocksucking ability to a virtuoso state. She was incomparable! He had never felt anything like it before. She knew just when to slow, when to speed. She knew all the sensitive places. She knew when to twirl her tongue, when to move it horizontally, vertically.
It was pitiful to think that this girl who had been instructed so patiently, nurtured to this state of unique skill, would one day no doubt practice her art on a mere youth-an unappreciative boy who could not possibly appreciate her. Whoever the lucky youth was, he hoped he appreciated her! Good God, yes! Oh, yes!
Suddenly, while the currents of unspeakable pleasure surged through his body, he hated every male who would ever enjoy Mona Seagram. Now, yes now, he was getting ready to spew his sperm, let it go gushing forth. The signs were unmistakable. Actually, for the past few minutes he had felt as if he were experiencing one continuous orgasm-so intense was the pleasure.
She seemed to sense his approaching orgasm, for her throat opened and her tempo speeded in anticipation. Miraculous! he thought. Here was a girl who had begged him to fuck her, pleaded with him to show her how a real prick felt inside her vagina, and yet she was so well trained by her father to deliver delight, so attuned to the male's, need to complete, to finish now if he pleased, that she was willing to forego her own desire for his! She was drawing on his organ as though it were a flesh straw. It was apparent that she was ready and willing to drink his fluid if he so desired. He was tempted. But just for an instant. With a mighty effort of self-control, he tore her mouth from his bursting prick before he came and lay panting, staring at her closed eyes and still nursing mouth.
"Let's go inside," he said, trying to calm himself. "Let's go inside someplace soft... where we can fuck. You-still want to fuck, don't you?"
"Oh, yes," she said, opening her eyes. "I'm-I'm dripping wet. I've got to know. I have to know. I want your cock inside me, Oh, yes!"
He took her by the hand, then remembering, removed his trunks entirely and led her inside. It was cool, the air conditioning humming almost inaudibly inside the luxurious house. "There-on the couch?" he asked, his cock still stiff.
"I'll get a towel," she said, and literally ran from the room. In a moment, she returned with a king-size bath towel and spread it on the couch. Then, like a child anticipating a trip to Disneyland or some exciting new experience, she lay down so that her buttocks were squarely in the center of the towel. "Okay, I'm ready," she said.
In spite of his excitement, Reid had to smile. "Mona, dear," he said, "it isn't a matter of just-just sticking this thing inside you. If you don't mind, there should be certain preliminaries."
"Oh, yes-sure," she said, sitting up. "I-I didn't mean for you just to-jam it in. I'm so excited I guess I'm acting crazy. Forgive me?"
This time Reid knelt down beside Mona. He smiled. If this was to be her first actual fuck, he wanted it to be a good one. First fucks were important, whether for male or female. No question about that. A first fuck could influence a arson's sexual outlook for a lifetime. "Yes, I forgive you," he said. "You're beautiful, Mona. You know that, don't you?"
"Yes, I'm told I'm pretty. Everybody says so. It must be true."
With one hand, Reid began gently massaging her breasts and, with the other, he lightly stroked her thigh and toyed with the hem of her bikini bottoms. "No, I didn't say pretty, Mona," he breathed. "I said beautiful. Men probably dream of fucking you. What you're about to give me is important, my gorgeous pet. Neither of us will ever forget it. I just hope I make you happy. You have a delectable body and you're gorgeous and ripe beyond belief."
He went on that way-talking to her as he petted her, preparing her. He wanted her cunt juicy and receptive. He wanted this delicious girl's first screwing to be a beautiful thing for her. He had not planned to make love to the daughter of his friend, but she had pleaded and he had become aroused and now he could not turn back. He wondered what she was thinking. He wondered if she weren't apprehensive... he wondered just what was on her mind....
God, he's really going to do it, Mona thought. He's going to put that beautiful hard prick of his inside me and I'll know just how it feels. Oh, his hands on my breasts and playing with my leg-they're driving me mad. He won't be like Daddy. He's not going to play with me only. He's really going to put his prick inside my pussy and fuck me! God, I can hardly wait. It was nice sucking on his big hard thing, but now I want it between my legs. Really up and inside and with his bottom bouncing, the way dogs and animals fuck. Oh, yes. Fuck me, Reid... fuck me... fuck me... fuck me....
He was kneeling there beside her, his tongue in her ear and whispering nice things about how beautiful she was and that she was a prize. That was nice-not like Daddy who always used four-letter words. The four-letter words excited her too, but this was different. It was really nice.
His hot tongue was nibbling at her breasts now, blowing on the nipples and tenderly licking them, coaxing them erect, then drawing on them, giving each one an equal share. "Oh, Reid," she said. "You're such a wonderful lover... won-der-ful...."
"I just want you to enjoy this, sweet. When I fuck you, I want it to feel good for you."
"I know it will, Reid. Oh, I know it will."
After a long time, he gently tugged at her bikini bottoms, pulling them down over her ankles until she was completely naked. She stretched, waiting, passive, ready, kittenish.
"I'm glad I'm not a virgin," she said. "I mean-not a real one."
"Me, too," Reid said. "It's much nicer this way. You can just relax and let me do it to you."
Mona lay back, spreading her legs slightly now as she felt his strong hands inch ever so slowly up her leg toward her waiting and eager love hole. Oh, if only he knew how anxious she was for him to reach her pussy. It was taking him forever to reach it. He was kissing her tummy now, descending slowly as his hand inched ticklingly up toward her cunt. Yes, her cunt that wanted his big prick inside it. She could see his prick. It still stood out straight and stiff as a board. Would it really get in her? Would it ever really plunge itself inside her? Would her father come home and ruin everything? Would she be denied this fucking that she wanted and craved more than anything in the world-had wanted and craved more than anything for so long now? She could not resist it. She reached down and grasped his swollen, dripping member and slowly jacked it as he kissed very near her pubic mound and his hand reached the cheeks of her ass and then finally-oh God, finally, yes-settled there and began touching her dripping cunt lips that-begged to be parted and pierced by the big hunk of dribbling meat she clutched in her hand.
Oh, no! she thought, as he ascended once again to her breasts. Was he teasing her? His hand that had stroked her cunt lips also slid down to her knee and played with its underside. She listened to his noisy feast at her breasts and kept her legs spread in hopes that he would soon return to her gushing vagina. She could feel the lubricant streaming from her cunt, drenching the towel beneath her ass, wetting it. She was growing weaker and weaker with desire-insane desire. The excitement and anticipation was becoming too much for her to bear.
"Reid! Reid. Please hurry up and fuck me, Reid. Please!" she begged.
"In a moment, baby. In a moment," he said, panting. "You don't want to rush these things. I'm not your father."
He had conquered every innate desire to resist a male-any male. Yes, that's what he had done. She was putty. She was whimpering, pitiful, pliable putty and if he didn't hurry up and fuck her soon she would die, die, die for lack of fucking. Yes, die because she had to be fucked now!
Then, suddenly, he had mercy. He began stroking her greasy-slick cunt lips, her tingling labia and finally her clitoris, her craving nerve center of desire and need. Soon he would squirt his love juice from his beautiful balls deep inside her. 'Way, 'way up. She didn't care if she got pregnant. She didn't care about anything except his shaft up inside the dark spasming cunt of her.
Now the beautiful moment she had been waiting for (all her life, it seemed) at last arrived. He lay alongside her on the couch, his hard prick pressed against her tummy, and she encircled his head lovingly in her arms and licked his face all over-his cheeks, his ears, his eyes. For the moment, she was transported beyond reality, in a sort of trance, the hot male meat against her soon to go where it was meant to go. No playing around; nothing short of fucking; no vibrator or her daddy just placing his thing between her legs and then not really sticking it in there but only rubbing against where it was supposed to go stick, stick, stick, with her legs really around a plunging ass, really riding a pole, really feeling it penetrate and crash, crash, crash inside her vagina.
She spread her legs wider, one leg up on top of the couch, the other on the floor. To her surprise, he did not begin fucking her. Instead, he slid down so that he could lick her pussy. Did they all like to lick girls' pussies? Daddy did. Maybe they all did. Well, that was all right. It did feel awfully good. As long as he fucked her afterward, she didn't mind... ummm... no... not at all... ummm... his tongue was better than Daddy's, too!
He had his hands beneath her buttocks, making a kind of platform of her cunt, and they were demanding and rough and digging into the cheeks of her ass as he lapped and gorged himself on her sopping wet pussy... ummm, yes... it did feel good... oh!
She began thrusting and rotating her hips, writhing to meet his hungry tongue, his open and closing mouth that drank there noisily at her flesh fountain and probed her bottom. Even Daddy had never done that to her bottom with his tongue before! "Ummm... so good...." she moaned.
She began to tremble all over as he ingested her crotch. Encouragingly, she ran her nails through his steel-gray hair. "Yes, yes," she heard herself purring as she tossed her head from side to side in complete abandon. His tongue was paradise there! Heaven! But she would have to make him stop before she came!
Finally, she took his cheeks in her hands and lifted his head from her dripping vagina. His breath was thunder in her ear and she could feel his erect, wet penis against her inner thigh.
"Fuck me, Reid," she begged. "You've got to do it to me now!"
"All right," he groaned. "Oh, that tight, little snatch."
She could feel the head of his rigid cock begin to probe as he ran it up and down the length of her cunt, preparing her for his entrance. She reached down and gripped his hunk of gristle hard. She wanted to plunge it into herself, but she guessed he knew what he was doing and so she let him continue making her pussy even more mushy.
"Oh, Reid... Reid... fuck me, Reid...."
As she held onto the hard cock, jacking it slightly, she was overcome with the beauty and wonder of the mighty male organ. It was beautiful the way they sprang to life-grew from limp, docile waiting things to conquering ramrods; the way they got stiff and engorged and wanted to push and force their way between a girl's legs, stick her and send spasms through her entire body. Daddy had denied her the ultimate pleasure, but this man with his gorgeous hard tool was going to send currents and ripples of delight through her vagina that would be far better than any finger or vibrator. She could hardly wait. Her eyes became bleary with lust as she squeezed the big member in her hand, realizing that in a matter of seconds it would be pumping and slamming within her.
Oh, God! Its big, hot, hunting head was parting her cunt lips now, nudging and wedging its way into her contracting and expanding channel. Impulsively, she let her hand slide down to its thick base and clenched the trunk of the meaty monster. Then she began groping his immense balls and thought of his love fluid inside his flesh sack. Soon, he would spurt that fluid inside her waiting slit and it would be heaven, heaven! Why didn't he hurry and jam the whole thing in? Didn't he know that she could accommodate him without all this unnecessary preliminary play? Yes, right now she could accommodate a stallion, she thought.
"Yes, that's it, Mona," he was saying. "Rub my balls. Good girl. That's it, baby...."
"Are you going to shove it in pretty soon, Reid? When are you going to fuck my pussy? Can't you tell it's ready? It's ready!"
"Yes," he breathed. "It's like a hot oven-a slick, hot oven. It's like pushing into a slick, hot oven."
Now he began feeding her a little bit of his prick at a time, savoring the delicious entrance into the waiting depths of her, deeper, deeper, and at last she felt the muscled giant totally imbedded within her silken sheath. She began pumping slowly, arching her back so that her pelvis bent the hard cock slightly, so that she could feel and enjoy a real cock in her pussy for the first time. It was so hot! Hot like a poker! Hot and alive and she was being plugged with a big, male cock-a spear of flesh-working in and out, in and out while he fuck-talked in her ear, telling her how good it felt and clutched her ass cheeks hard and manipulated her so that he could touch and stab the places he wanted.
Oh, God! It was wonderful... wonderful... fucking....
"You're nice and tight, baby," he was saying, and then he went on and on telling her how tight and hot her cunt was and how much he loved having her smooth legs around him while he slammed his cock into her love hole hard, first gently, then hard again.
Reid's organ worked steadily inside her eager vagina... pressing, searching, stabbing. Once, Mona put her hand on her tummy. She could actually feel the stiff rod moving inside her! As their tempo increased, Mona became almost delirious at the sound of the smacking, plopping noises their clashing pelvises emitted as the friction increased and crotch rubbed crotch in a frenzy of pleasure-& fuck-frenzy of pleasure!
"Every inch, Reid!" Mona screamed. "Plug me, Reid! Plug my hole!" She wanted it all-every inch and pore of the pole that poked and tore savagely between her legs. It was sheer ecstasy lying there flat on her back, his hands guiding her ass, and she knew she belonged this way with her legs spread wide apart while the wonderful, wonderful prick had its way with her... jabbing... jabbing....
When her climax began approaching, it was entirely different from anything she had ever experienced before. Daddy had used his finger, his mouth, a vibrator, on her. He had even fucked her bottom and made her come with his finger on her clit at the same time. But this real flesh cock inside her brought a new and intense feeling that was beyond her wildest dreams.
She was getting closer and closer. The pleasure waves began surging-growing stronger, stronger. She felt the vague tingle-no, it was more than a tingle-spreading slowly through her vagina, her rectum"running up and down her backbone, rippling crazily through her womb. The unspeakably indescribably feeling began engulfing her entire body as Reid's shaft plunged on. He must have sensed that she was nearing completion, for he drove savagely now to the accompaniment of her near-hysterical breath-whines, her pitiful whimpers.
"Stab me!" she screamed, straightening her legs slightly and locking her ankles behind his knees. "Stab me hard! Harder! Harder!"
"Coming? Coming? Huh? You coming, Mona?" he asked, his voice rasping and hoarse as he queried her again and again.
She could not answer in any language of this earth, because at that instant the lustful lightning struck and she heard her own voice, foreign to her ears, begin 'way down deep and she emitted one long "Ohhhhhhhhh!"
Reid plunged harder then, hurtling toward completion himself, and they both reached the heights simultaneously and crested to incredible fulfillment. Mona felt as though she had died a little. She lay there sobbing and shuddering out the aftermath of the most intense and exquisite physical pleasure of her life. The thought that she had a lifetime of such pleasure to look forward to made everything seem worthwhile. Her body, she knew now, was an instrument that could be plucked to produce pleasure so intense it could not be expressed in words. As she lay shuddering there, the two of them still tightly clasped together and gasping, she knew that from this day forth the male organ-for her, at least-would be a kind of God. Nothing else in the world, she imagined, could deliver the kind of deep feeling she had just now experienced. Cock, prick, penis, ad infinitum. These were magic words that represented the thing she would seek the rest of her life....
Still, she felt vaguely uneasy for allowing herself to feel this pleasure, and this puzzled her. It had felt better than anything. There was nothing wrong with fucking. Why then did this sudden feeling of guilt assault her? Slowly, trying to dismiss this uneasy feeling from her mind, she released her hold on Reid and sighed. She could feel his organ shrinking slowly within her vagina. His prick had completed its mission and now it was withdrawing to rest-to do its work another day.
After a few minutes, Reid kissed her affectionately, withdrew his semi-rigid organ from her cunt and collapsed beside her. The towel beneath them was wet where Mona's buttocks had lain. Mona sat up then, slipped on her bathing suit, and said, "Well, I guess we'd better look presentable in case Daddy returns, huh?"
"Yes, I suppose you're right," Reid said, and then: "Mona, it was beautiful. I mean it. I hope it was-was all right for you, too. You did come, didn't you?"
She smiled, patting his cheek. "What do you think, you nut? Of course, I came. It was wonderful, Reid. Thank you. I'll never, never, never, forget you. You're the first man who ever did this to me, you know. Whew! I never dreamed fucking could feel that good. Daddy? Well, he was just child's play."
They both laughed then at her choice of the phrase, "child's play." Reid pulled his trunks on then over his still semi-rigid penis and they went back out to the patio and sat by the pool. They took the soiled towel with them, and when the distinguished and pompous Cecil Seagram returned nearly an hour later they were chatting innocently about nothing.
Chapter Two
So now Reid Hartley stood in the Malibu Beach antique shop staring at Mona Seagram and remembering their lovemaking of several years ago that afternoon in Cecil Seagram's living room. It seemed incredible that he had been her first real lover-that he had actually made love to a fifteen-year-old-but it was true. Still, he hadn't actually deflowered her. Old Cecil Seagram had taken care of that, or at least the mechanics of deflowering her.
Mona hadn't noticed him as yet. She held a small vase and studied it, tilting her head from side to side as though trying to decide whether or not to buy it. She had changed quite a lot. Was this really the same Mona Seagram who had begged him to fuck her several years ago? Could this possibly be the same eager teenager who had licked his penis outside by the swimming pool? Yes, despite her gaunt look and lack of makeup, it was definitely Mona. She wore hippie attire-a leather Indian outfit with a beaded headband about her forehead.
Oh, how they had rutted that afternoon-fucked so naturally and without regard for the consequences! Actually, she had been the first so-called virgin he had ever had the pleasure of sinking his meat into and, often during these past few years, he had experienced fantasies in which he relived that afternoon's sexual encounter. Several times, when restless at night, he had let his mind wander back to that afternoon, recreated the sounds of her whimpers in his ear, the feel of her firm, young legs encircling him, and he had masturbated violently in an effort to bring back vividly the memory of fucking her. In fact, only last week while soaping himself in the shower, he had thought of her and then jacked off with the lather under the spraying water.
It was not as if he were a celibate. He had slept with plenty of women since that afternoon with Mona. But there would always be a special place in his heart (balls?) for her. Yes, secretly he adored her, but circumstances and their age difference had made it impossible for him to contact her since that fateful day.
So now here she was: Mona Seagram, the girl he had jacked off over just last week. Weird. Both of them here at Malibu Beach. Really weird. He, Reid Hartley, thirty-six. Mona Seagram, seventeen, or maybe even eighteen now. Still a child, but looking a hell of a lot different.
His pulse quickened as he stepped over to the shelf lined with vases, ash trays, lamps, various objects of art. He decided to be casual. "Hi there, Mona," he said, and he realized that they were the first words he had spoken all day.
She turned her pretty but gaunt face and smiled. The smile had not changed. It was still little-girlish-a trace of innocence combined with mischief.
"What have you been doing?" he asked. "I heard you'd gone sort of artsy."
"Yes, I suppose you would hear that sort of thing from my father's associates-people in the advertising business, I mean. The fact is, I've just begun to live. I've taken up painting. Not the kind they teach in college. I mean, serious painting."
"No kidding. Great. So are you doing any good with it?" He wanted to keep the conversation light, but he found himself uncontrollably running his eyes hungrily over her. "I mean-how are you doing?"
"Fairly well. I'm enjoying myself."
"Well, that's wonderful," Reid said. "Really wonderful. I'm glad you're doing what you want. Doing what you really like is important, isn't it?"
"What are you doing?" she asked. "Still going around seducing teenage girls?"
He stared at her, puzzled. "That's funny," he said. "I had the impression it was the other way around. I resisted valiantly to no avail, if you recall."
They both laughed. "Yes, I recall," she admitted. "So what are you doing?"
What he'd been doing was a sensitive area for an ad writer who had apparently lost his touch. Writing successful ads was one thing. Writing unsuccessful ads and devising floppo campaigns was quite another thing.
"Oh, I'm still fooling around with the advertising business," he said. "Right now, I'm here for a little vacation. By myself."
Mona shook her head. "Good God! The advertising business; what a phony racket! What are you promoting these days?"
"The usual. You know. Believe it or not, right now I'm trying to come up with an idea for a brassiere account."
"Brassieres! Have you ever worn one? What do you really know about brassieres?"
"Well, I haven't actually worn one, of course, but I can use my imagination, can't I? I don't have to eat dog food to sell it, right?" Reid wished they could drop the subject.
"Hmmm," Mona said, frowning. "I still don't see how you can write about brassieres if you've never worn one. I don't see how you can be very convincing, frankly."
"Okay, give me yours and I'll try it on. For you I'll become a transvestite."
"I gave them up," she said, trying hard to smile.
Reid forced a laugh. Something about her frightened him. She seemed so intense, so damned contrary and artsy. "Well, so you're painting now," he said. He didn't know what else to say.
"Yes, and I write poetry, too. I assure you that my poetry doesn't in any way resemble advertising drivel."
Reid vaguely remembered hearing that Mona was living with a musician or a sculptor or something, but he had dismissed it as idle gossip. "Well, are you married, or working, or what?"
"No, I haven't worked for some time now. My father's offered to give me whatever I want, but I'd rather not be obligated. I just work long enough to save a little money. Then Vincent and I are able to clothe ourselves, eat, and pay the rent. We both do creative work. He's a sculptor. Of course, I was in the hospital for a while."
"You were?".
Mona explained that for a long time she hadn't eaten properly-"just sandwiches and junky things" and she had let herself get "run down." She asked him not to tell her father about her hospitalization and he promised he would not.
She went on talking somewhat bitterly, attacking the Establishment, advertising, everything, and Reid found himself growing more and more uneasy. She seemed to be enjoying talking about her recent illness, her great departure from the world of her famous father, Cecil Seagram, and her great sacrifice in the name of Art. He wanted to reach out and shake her until her teeth rattled, shake the pallor from her face and recreate the same bright-eyed girl with the long hair that he had made love to several years ago. She had been so mischievous and full of life that day they had fucked and even though he had felt some guilt after that encounter he wished he could take her back in time and spread her legs and fuck her cunt again. He had the strange idea that what she needed was a good fucking and that he should be the one to do the job.
She apparently had Vincent but Vincent didn't seem to be what she needed, and so naturally he fancied himself her savior-the prick with golden wings to restore her to normality. She had been so beautiful, so innocent. What had happened? Had her unusual sexual relationship with her father turned her sour? Possibly. At any rate, now she was living with some freak named Vincent. She had holed herself up somewhere here at Malibu Beach and was ruining her health. It was crazy. Her father was a goddam millionaire, for chrissake!
"... mainly I learned that you must take care of your body," she was saying. "You have to eat properly and get exercise. Also, as far as drugs go, it's best not to get strung out on reds. I've given drugs up entirely now. Let me tell you something."
"They're closing," Reid said, noticing the shopkeeper lowering the blinds.
His head reeling, Reid followed Mona outside. God, she still looked good, despite her ordeal! The curves and swells of her body were something to see as she walked. And that pert little ass. Nice. He could still remember vividly holding onto it and driving his prick into her seething little orifice.
They stood in the parking lot of the shop that fronted Pacific Coast Highway and talked. As Mona chattered on, Reid admired her braless, jutting breasts beneath the leather top of her Indian outfit. Her diet certainly hadn't affected her tits!
"You may not realize it, Reid, but my sexual relationship with my father was somewhat traumatic. Not only was it unsatisfying, but it was-well, abnormal. I didn't feel any real guilt about it because in having sex games with him I felt superior. He is a highly respected man in the world of men, right? Well, when I discovered I could reduce him to a whimpering, panting slob, it gave me a feeling of power. Despite what everybody said about him, I knew he wasn't any superman."
Mona paused, brushing her hair from her forehead as she gathered her thoughts. "The point is," she continued, "I've always been a very competitive girl, Reid. You don't know this, but I've also been a rather good painter since a very early age. I was extremely precocious and weighed life quite intellectually, although I seldom revealed this. My father knew this, of course, but I'll wager you didn't think the curious little girl who seduced you that afternoon had any particular talents or ambitions, correct?"
"No, I suppose it didn't even occur to me," Reid admitted, studying her closely. "I was too busy admiring your-er-other attributes."
"Like my ass and my tits? Things like that, right?"
Reid chuckled. "You might put it that way, yes."
"Right on," Mona said. "Well, to make this brief, although you would never have recognized that I had such a problem, I was in a deadly competition with men-all men. But now I've finally accepted woman's subservient role. Interesting that I would go against the whole Fern Lib Movement, isn't it? Still, I believe what I'm saying now. I believe that men are more concerned with ideas than women and that woman's job is to sort of bring them down to earth. I don't mean that woman can't function in the arts and can't deal with ideas-of course we can and do-what I mean is, we're more concrete. Actually, it's a very superior trait. We don't let men get too far off the track. You'd all go kooky without us, and I don't mean just sex-wise either. Naturally, Vincent agrees with me."
"Well, that's a pretty interesting idea," Reid said, confused, not knowing really what he thought.
She continued, not seeming to hear him. "For a long time I fought these basic facts. All I wanted to do was paint better than any man who ever lived. Now I'm aware that I was wrong. I'm a woman. I'm free at last to be a woman."
"You're a woman, all right," Reid agreed, running his eyes hungrily over her body. "This Vincent... what does he do? Is he just a sculptor or does he do other things?"
"No, he just makes things." She laughed brightly, the way he remembered her. "Last week he got a crumpled fender from an old wrecked car, sprayed it with paint and sold it for a hundred dollars! Oh, it was really too funny. Really heavy. Imagine! But he does do serious work from scratch. He's quite good. I hope he gets a good commission soon. He's forty-three and certainly due for a break."
"Yes, that would be nice," Reid said.
Mona rocked back and forth from the heels to the toes of her sandals, her beautiful breasts bouncing freely beneath her Indian garb. She seemed deliriously happy and, for a moment, Reid felt as though he might cry. He couldn't erase the picture in his mind of the innocent (at least he'd thought her innocent and naive) girl on the living-room couch, with her legs spread apart, begging him to fuck her. The change in her seemed so drastic!
"Well, I really must be getting back to Vincent," Mona said. "By now he's probably fucking his model! Goodbye, Reid, and be sure not to 'hard sell' those brassieres. They're really very confining. 'Night."
"Good night, Mona."
She turned, crossed the highway, and began walking slowly into the distance. Reid watched her, unable to take his eyes from her as she walked her beautiful, sensuous walk toward the cluster of giant rocks. It occurred to him that he did not know where she lived, her telephone number....
When the figure sprang from the darkness of the rocks, grabbed Mona and dragged her from sight, Reid could not believe his eyes. It happened so quickly, it was as though he were dreaming. He broke into a sprint, running toward the rocks which lay perhaps a hundred yards away. Finally, his breath rasping in his lungs, he reached the spot where Mona had disappeared. The floodlights illuminated only the tips of the rocks and, farther below, near the water, there was total darkness. Squinting, searching desperately for some sign of movement, he crouched and made his way between two of the larger boulders. He called Mona's name, but there was no answer, only the sound of the surf. Finally, about ten yards distant where a sliver of light illuminated a small clearing of sand, he saw them.
Mona's assailant lay on top of her struggling body, one hand clamped over her mouth and the other hand tearing at her clothing. Reid moved cautiously, wanting to move faster but afraid of startling the attacker. When he drew very near, he could hear the man's voice even over the sound of the surf.
"Easy, sugar," the guttural voice commanded. "Ya better just relax or I'll just have to toss ya in the ocean. It's awful dark and deep and ya wouldn't like that, would ya? Relax while I fuck your little cunt. Then I'll let ya go okay? Be a good girlie so's I won't have to toss your pretty little ass in the ocean. You've had a cock in your little puss before, haven't ya? So what's the difference?"
Mona's assailant had his hand up under Mona's top now, obviously fondling her bare breasts, and with his knee he was forcing her legs apart.
"That's it, sugar. I just want to get this cock in that little cunt. That's all. Relax and everything'll be dandy. Then I'll let ya go--"
When he was close enough, Reid leaped and tore the man from Mona. He was not a big man-possibly in his forties-but he was strong for his size. Instantly, he got back up on his feet and kicked Reid squarely in the chest. Reid went flying, the rough rock tearing into his back as he fell.
"Get the hell away, hero," the attacker cursed. "Go away before I kill your ass and the broad's, too."
Reid sprang forward and drove his right fist low and straight, trying for the testicles with all his might. The blow landed high though, caught the man's ribs and pushed into his stomach. There followed a whooshing exhale of air, a painful groan, and then Reid saw the glint of a knife blade in the dim light. The lighting was eerie, for the floodlights from the highway lighted the top of the man's head-making his short-cropped hair appear crimson-while Mona and the ground below was in near darkness.
"Now you're gonna die, big man," the attacker grunted. "You wanted to play hero? Well, okay. You're gonna die good... with a... knife in your gut."
"Save yourself a lot of trouble," Reid said. "Just go away and forget the whole thing. Go now and I won't try to stop you."
"I got the knife, friend. You ain't givin' no orders. You're the one who's goin'. Now!"
Mona sat frozen in terror on the sand. "Go, Mona!" Reid yelled. "Go now! Run!"
She didn't move. There was only one thing left to do. With Mona in a state of shock, Reid knew he would have to grapple with this armed man. He feinted to his left, drew a thrust that barely missed, and caught the man's wrist.
"Go!" Reid screamed. "Run now, Mona! Run!"
Still, Mona did not move. The struggle continued and the knife was at throat level now, pointing at the attacker as they battled for control. Reid felt his arms weakening. He would have to make a desperate effort soon before he lost his strength. With every bit of strength he could muster, he exerted a final burst, put his leg behind the assailant and shoved with all his might. As the man fell, Reid managed to wrench the knife from his hand. Then, before his opponent could rise, Reid used both hands and drove the blade downward.
There was a sharp cry of pain as the knife dug deep into the man's shoulder. Reid lay on his side then, panting, making no effort to stop the would-be rapist as he crawled away whimpering into the darkness.
"You fucking animal!" he cried out after him, but there was only the sound of the sea against the rocks. In a moment, when he had regained his breath, he asked, "Are you all right, Mona?"
She crawled over to him. "Yes, yes," she muttered. "Oh, Reid. It was so-so horrible." She nestled against him.
"He's gone," Reid said. "He's gone now. It's all right."
Mona touched the blood on his wrist. "Reid, you're hurt!"
"No, it's his blood. It's from him."
Mona buried her face in his shoulder. "If you hadn't been here to stop him, he would have-he would have raped me and-and maybe thrown me in the ocean...." She broke off in a sob.
He put his arm around her and they sat in silence for what seemed a long time. After a while, she dabbed at her eyes and said, "I'm sorry I seemed so cool and independent back at the antique shop. I'm-I'm really not so different from the girl you made love to a few years back." She cuddled closer. "I've never forgotten you, Reid. After that beautiful afternoon when we fucked there on the couch, I kept hoping you would come back. I thought about you all the time. Did you ever think of me?"
Reid held her close, nuzzling in her soft, dark hair. "Yes, Mona, I thought of you more than you'd guess. But it was impossible to contact you. You understand? Your age... your father... everything."
"It feels so good to be near you again, Reid. I-I was so frightened a moment ago. Fate must have sent you here. What if I'd left that shop all alone-if you hadn't been here?"
"Yes," Reid said. "Fate. Tell me, is this Vincent really good to you? Are you happy?"
"Yes," she said, "but let's not talk about Vincent now, all right?" She reached up then, encircling his neck with her arm and their lips met in a deep, soul kiss. There was no haste, no clumsiness. She was neither bold nor timid, passive nor aggressive. He slipped his hand up under the top of her leather top and gently fondled her ripe, firm breasts. An electric-like shock seemed to jolt his scrotum and his balls tingled as his prick rose instantly to its full length. In a way, he felt guilty. The attacker had also fondled Mona's breasts. Quite possibly she was still in a state of semi-shock and he felt as though he were taking advantage-like picking up a drunken woman in a bar and using her. But she seemed coherent and her lips were pressed tightly to his, their tongues playing darting, frantic games.
"Is this my reward for rescuing the maiden in distress?" he found himself asking.
She held his cheeks in her hands and stared intently, her eyes tear bright, into his own eyes. "Reid, you know it's more than that. Please don't be cruel."
"Well, that maniac was-was feeling you up. Am I really any better?" He couldn't help uttering what was on his mind, even though he felt nothing but affection, even love, for this lovely girl beside him. He wondered why he was torturing himself, but he guessed that his feeling for Mona was so intense and genuine that he actually wanted what was best for her. He did not want her to give her body to him out of gratitude. He did not want her to do anything she sincerely didn't want to do. If she gave herself to him because she was grateful he knew he would feel he was no better than the attacker who had just fled. It became suddenly important to him that his own motives be right and hers, too. Don't be such a pompous, moral, pain in the ass, Reid, he thought.
"You know it isn't the same," Mona was saying. She pressed his hand firmly to her bare breast again encouragingly. "You know you're nothing like that-that beast who just attacked me. Do you really still have to write all that advertising crap?" she asked.
In view of what had just happened-the horror and the danger of it-the question struck him as incongruous. He began to laugh, and then Mona began to laugh, too. They sat there in the semi-darkness in the damp sand, laughing hysterically. It was an overreaction, a sort of release from their near-catastrophic experience. When finally their hilarity had sputtered and spasmed to a halt, Reid said, "No, I guess I really don't have to write all that advertising crap, but I'm doing it anyway. Why?"
"I was just thinking about that afternoon you were at my father's. You seemed so intense-both of you-like little boys squabbling over a game of marbles. Only the marbles were dollars. I had a crush on you the minute I saw you. I knew I wanted you to be the first to make love to me the second I saw you. And when that telephone call came that took Daddy away-well, I guess I let you know, didn't I?"
"Yes, young lady, you certainly did," he said, and then he turned her face to him again and kissed her long and hard while he resumed squeezing her breasts and tenderly brushing her nipples erect with his thumbs and forefingers.
"You were my lovely instructor," she cooed, reaching down and groping at his erection, manipulating it like a sponge.
They both lay back on the damp sand, face to face at first, and then Reid lifted her leather top high and held both breasts together and kissed and licked at them while his hand kneaded her ass and pulled it toward his swollen cock in a slow, rhythmic motion. "Hello, baby," he said.
"Oh, Reid... I've never forgotten that afternoon... how patient and sweet you were... how it felt when you stuck your beautiful cock between my legs. Let's pretend we're on my father's couch again-just like that afternoon."
Reid continued nursing at her breasts, first one and then the other, while his hand slid down and stroked the delightful protuberance of her youthful belly. He palmed it, tickling her navel, and gradually moved his hand in wider circles until he reached the soft down of her pubic mound. Then, ever so slowly, he let his finger dip into the top of her crease until it nudged her clit. She was still a bit dry and so he dipped deeper into her honey pot, parting the dewy lips of her vagina with all the delicacy of a connoisseur examining the petals of a rose, fetched a glob of lubricant and applied it to her tingling clitoris. Slowly and lightly at first, he massaged her nerve center with the aid of her own sticky fluid. She responded by pumping her hips and moaning appreciatively, making little mewing sounds and palming his cheek as he drew her nipples deep into his mouth.
Suddenly he forced himself to part from her, removed his canvas jacket and spread it under their midsections, just as they had spread the towel beneath them that afternoon on the couch in Mona's living room. The jacket beneath them, they again pressed their bodies tightly together. In a moment, Reid slid Mona's jeans and panties down over her ankles and then slipped out of his own clothing. Instantly, she clamped her soft hand-God, how often he had recalled the manipulation of those soft hands on his prick-about his engorged penis and he went on tickling her clit while she played with his testicles and lovingly handled his tool.
Mona placed her knee over his hip and guided his cock so that its dribbling head touched her clit. Then, kissing and moaning in unison, they tantalized each other by pumping so that only the swollen head of his meat slurped against the top of her pelvis. Mona's hand was against his bare ass, pulling in restrained urgency, and he tugged at her buttocks, too. They went on that way, driving each other to the point of desperation for a long time, oblivious to the sound of the surf and an occasional passing car up on the highway. Here, in the darkness and surrounded by the rocks, they were safe to play with each other's body, to delight each other, to take their time at this conspiracy of pleasure, this indulgence that would bring blessed relief to their aching genitals. It was simple: a man and a woman moving toward the inevitable-moving toward orgasm-toward sexual fulfillment that would not be denied.
"Let's-let's kiss each other down there... at the same time," Mona said.
Reid complied, changing position so that his face nuzzled in her downy pubic hair. Even in the fresh ocean air, her delicious furry nest emitted a delightful female scent and he eagerly began kissing her dewy crease and inhaling deeply while Mona showered his throbbing hard-on with kisses.
In a moment, he felt the warmth of her mouth encircle his rod, draw it deep into her mouth just as she had two years ago. With one hand she massaged his balls and with the other she held his cock at the base for support as she slid his tingling meat in and out of her hot, wet mouth. He lifted her leg and placed it over his shoulder. They lay on their sides that way then, munching at each other's crotch. With both hands, Reid parted the lips of Mona's gushing vagina and let his tongue flutter up and down, gobbling and laving at the cunt lips for a long time before he concentrated, very delicately at first, on her clitoris. Her moans grew loud now and her entire body began trembling as she lapped at his firm prick and fondled his balls. Suddenly she tore her mouth from his cook and said, "Come here, Reid. Up here! Sit on my chest and fuck my mouth!"
She flopped over onto her back then, her mouth slack in anticipation, and extended her arms beckoningly. Reid straddled her and, hard-on out before him like some searching Geiger counter, crawled toward her face on his knees until his knees rested just beneath her armpits. She took his immense organ in both hands then and began nursing on its swollen head.
It was beautiful watching her ingest his stiff rod there in the dim light. Yes, he was literally fucking her mouth. She placed one hand on his buttocks and began pulling in a rhythmic movement to simulate the motion of fucking. Reid placed both fists beneath her head so that her neck would not tire as she repeatedly raised her head to take in every inch of his cock.
From time to time, she paused and withdrew his meat from her feverish lips to gaze admiringly at its glistening, lengthy beauty. Her eyes bleary with lust, she pressed against his pelvis with her hands so that his organ reached maximum extension during her panting inspections. Then she would resume sucking again, making him fuck her mouth while she moaned loudly.
Finally, unable to stand the sensation and sight of his member entering her lovely mouth, Reid pulled away. He didn't want to come this way. He had to imbed his prick between the legs of this beauty. He had to grasp Mona's little ass hard in his hands and drive his spear into her hot cunt and he did not want to come this way in her mouth. But she seemed hell-bent on holding him in place, even though it was obvious that he was ready to finish. Once again, just as she had done that afternoon so long ago, she was ready to sacrifice her own desires for the passion of the moment.
Reid pulled away forcefully, insistently, but she moaned in muffled protest with the cock in her mouth and clung hard to his ass. She wanted him to stay where he was-to spew his sperm directly into her mouth. It was not an altogether unpleasant possibility to Reid, for even the few seconds that it would require to transfer his flaming rod from mouth to vagina would seem an eternity, he knew. Well, he thought, maybe he could hold back a few more seconds... a few more seconds... but it would be difficult... God, Mona was an expert cock-sucker! And being on top this way-aggressive rather than on his back and totally passive while a female made oral love to him-was beautiful; absolutely and incomparably beautiful.
Reid took a deep breath, concentrated on not expending his load, and with one hand began fingering Mona's dripping love slit. As he watched his cock slide in and out of Mona's lips, his hand behind his back now toying with her cunt to make it ready, he thought he would pass out-so intense was the pleasure.
"Mona... I'm going to take it out now," he said. "I've got-got to-fuck you-in your pussy. You understand? I'm going to take it out of your mouth now, honey, and-and put it where it-it belongs... in your hot little snatch, okay?"
With his cock still m her mouth, she squealed in protest, shaking her head and clutching his ass still harder. It was now or never, Reid knew. He could not hold back much longer. With a mighty effort of willpower (and physical effort) he tore his cock from the vacuum of her mouth, slid down and, parting her legs, slowly fed his cock into her steaming twat. "Ohhhh," she moaned when she was stuck good and every inch of his member had penetrated to the depths of her.
He knew it would be that way. She had enjoyed munching on his erection, naturally. But once that same prong was inside her cunt, she was like all the rest. Putty... completely and totally helpless, and riding his pole like a jockey.
Now his prick was in her pussy and he had something to hold onto-her beautifully smooth ass-and something to wrap around himself-her inner thighs and legs. Her heels began digging into the backs of his legs, too, prodding and urging him on. "Oh fuck, Reid," she cried. "Fuck!"
"See?" he asked. "Isn't it better fucking, baby? Isn't it nicer right inside your cunt? Don't you remember that day? It was fucking you wanted then, right? Sucking is fun, sure, but isn't fucking nice. Isn't it? Isn't it?"
"Oh yes... yes... yes... yes..." she chanted. "I love it in my mouth, but I-I love it in my cunt, too. Yes... yes...."
Reid slammed his hips hard at the young vagina because he could tell she wanted it that way. Long ago, their lovemaking had been a gentler thing, but this night they battered and rammed each other. In a sense, it was like another movement of the same sexual symphony. But the mood and tempo had changed and, where their previous sexual encounter had been somewhat tender, this fuck was Wagnerian, with cymbals crashing-the sound of the surf provided that-and the level of impact was fortissimo.
"Reid... Reid... Reid... Reid..." She chanted as her lubricant ran down the cheeks of her ass and into the palms of his hands that wrenched and tugged at her ass.
"Now Reid... Now Reid!" she yelled in his ear and, knowing that she was there, he dropped his control, his guard, and felt the tingling begin deep in his groin and, cresting, begin catapulting along his shaft, tickling, gouging, as his hot fluid began its pumping spurts into the interior velvet heat of Mona's spasming vagina.
They went off together-came grunting there by the sea where the grunion sometimes ran-and it was crazy but for just an instant Reid saw the grunion glistening in the moonlight as they flip-flopped on the sand, fresh from the surf just as his own sperm flip-flopped fresh from the depth of his testicles and spawned, oh, so happily now, oh, goddam, it felt good now, in the warm protective climate of Mona's cunt.
They lay clasped tight together for a long time and Reid babbled somewhat incoherently into the ear of the young girl pinned beneath him-his captive-telling him that he loved her in breathless, pathetic gasps. In a way, what he said was true. After all, when the fuck was over, you didn't have to go and tell somebody you loved her, did you? he thought. Hell, no, you didn't. That was supposed to come before the fuck so that you could lay them and then say, "I'll see you later sometime maybe."
Still, he found himself saying loving things to her and he didn't give a damn about what you were supposed to do or what you weren't supposed to do. No, that wasn't right either, he thought. He was just doing what he felt like doing. What people were supposed to do didn't have anything to do with it.
Mona was very quiet. Finally, Reid stopped saying things and they both lay quietly, listening to the surf. Jesus, Reid thought, had he really told Mona that he would love her as long as he lived? That was a pretty dumb thing to say to an eighteen-year-old. Yes, indeed. The stupidity of it was evidenced by the fact that she was now dead silent... returned to earth... the wall up again.
A few minutes later, dressed and standing under the bright floodlights on the highway, Mona said, "I could never desert Vincent, Reid. If it didn't sound so trite, I'd say he needs me. You understand, don't you?"
Reid had said all there was to say. "Yes, I understand," he said, and then he watched her walk into the distance, this time until she disappeared safely from sight.
Reid didn't realize the extent of his exhaustion until he reached the beachfront cottage. It wasn't every day that he fought off a would-be rapist and made love to a woman. He was getting old, he guessed. At thirty-six, he just didn't have the old stamina any more. He collapsed on the sofa and stared at a few dust balls that had gathered in the corner. He had been here a week now and he hadn't cleaned the place yet. He thought of the sink full of unwashed dishes, the laundry hamper filled with dirty clothes and the advertising campaigns that he had not devised, at least not successfully so far, and he wondered what the hell he was going to do and where the hell he was going.
For the first time he noticed that there was a slight odor to the cottage, that the wallpaper was somewhat gaudy and the grass-mat floor covering was worn in places. Actually, it was Mona he missed. He felt incomplete. It wasn't just enough to lay a girl you truly cared for. He wanted her here now so that he could talk to her, look at her, listen to music with her, even read a book sitting next to her. Well, that was nothing new, he decided. He was afflicted with what they call loneliness. He had never thought he would see the day when he, Reid Hartley, boy wonder, would be lonely. But he was.
He went over to the typewriter and slammed the carriage hard, stupidly, and then he tore up the notes he had been collecting on the brassiere campaign and let the pieces snowfall into the wastebasket.
Well tomorrow was another day. He would clean the place up, take his clothes to the laundry and then tackle the problem of how to sell Wonder-Lift brassieres again. Maybe he would even call up an old girl friend and have her come down for a few days. What the hell? Girls liked to come down to the beach, didn't they? He knew one thing. He had to get Mona Seagram out of his mind. In anger, he hit the knotty pine wall hard with his fist. Then he went back into the small bedroom, undressed, climbed between the sheets and fell instantly into a deep sleep.
Chapter Three
By the third week of his "working vacation" in Malibu Beach, Reid Hartley was firmly convinced that he was a candidate for The Funny Farm. Although he had several approaches to both the Wonder-Lift bra account, as well as the Gibbons toothpaste account, he was not satisfied with any of them. The trouble was, he had lost confidence in himself. He didn't know whether they were good or not. His former brilliant and intuitive flashes that had made companies millions seemed to have abandoned him-degenerated to mere craftsmanship.
Also, he had not been able to get Mona Seagram out of his mind. He had not telephoned any of his other girl friends as he had contemplated. Instead, he had made daily journeys to the antique shop where he had seen Mona. But she seemed to have vanished. He sat this afternoon, staring out at the fog-shrouded sea, depressed and feeling sorry for himself. Christ, he was lonely! Still, he found himself taking a kind of masochistic pleasure in his unhappiness. It was almost as though he felt he deserved unhappiness. Yes, unhappiness was his penance for not being, irrefutably, the best ad man in the business.
He sighed. If Malibu Beach was supposed to be something special, he didn't know why. For three straight days now, the sky had been overcast, a perpetual and depressing gray-damp and looking as though it would never change. Instead of returning from his "working vacation" sporting a tan and armed with the solution to the Gibbons and Wonder-Lift accounts, he would be pallid and defeated. Yes, this was one hell of a way to spend a vacation in June. He would almost rather be back working in the tedious pressure of the office-the rat race at Luben's Ad Agency.
He sat on the rustic porch that fronted the ocean, trying to decide whether or not to pack up and forget his beach vacation. Even the intense summer heat of Palm Springs would be preferable to the endless gray, he thought. Yes, he thought, maybe he should pack up, forget the rental money he would lose for the remainder of the week, and head for the desert. Screw Malibu. Even the night life had proved disappointing. He'd spent too much time frequenting the bars and bar/restaurants that dotted the highway and met nothing but dull tourists. Where was Mona? Where did she spend her free time? He hadn't been able to find her anywhere. One bar, reputedly an artists' hangout, had raised his hopes, but it turned out to be nothing but a lesbian rendezvous. Yeah, screw Malibu, he thought.
Reid glanced at his wristwatch and had to rub the dampness from the crystal to read the time. Three o'clock in the afternoon and he hadn't even seen the sun yet. He withdrew a soggy cigarette from the pack on the wet table beside him, lit it with effort, and listened to the boom of the breakers just forty feet away. Sometimes, if he was lucky, he could make out the white surf splashing toward him across the smooth sand-that is, if it was a particularly big wave. Whoopee....
In a moment, his cigarette went out. He threw it angrily from the porch, stepped onto the sand and began walking south. He wore a white, short-sleeved terry cloth top, bathing trunks and sandals. He trudged through the sand to where the white foam splashed flat, letting the salt water wash over his feet as he went. Screw everything, he thought. Why couldn't he seem to get Mona out of his mind? Even the waves gathering reminded him of the curves and swells of her body and the sound of the surf only brought painful memories of the night they'd made love in the rocks by the sea.
"M-O-N-A-" That's what the tide and the breeze and the retreating foam said... that's what everything seemed to be saying.
Reid guessed that he had been insane to take this vacation by himself. He knew of at least two girls (if you could refer to females twenty-six and twenty-seven as girls) who would gladly have accompanied him anywhere on a vacation. But he had convinced himself that he had to work and that company would interfere with his work. Yes, either Pam or Jan would have leaped at the chance. But, no. He had visions of accomplishing some kind of miracle, conceiving some new and exciting ad campaigns. So now he was just plain lonely.
Oddly, at first, he had even half toyed with the idea of reaching some kind of decision regarding Janet. She wanted to get married, and it occurred to him that a thirty-six-year-old bachelor with a nice five-figure income maybe ought to settle down again, forget the divorce of his twenties. Janet would be good for him, he knew. She certainly was good in the sack. She was a fuck and a half, all right. If he telephoned her right now, she could be with him tonight. But then that would be a kind of defeat. No, it would be better to stick it out a while longer, he decided. If the weather didn't improve by the end of the week he would head for the desert, get a tan and forget all about Mona for good... if he could....
Walking along the beach that way, scanning the endless gray horizon, his shoulders slumped, Reid Hartley was not at all the man he permitted the world to see at Luben's Ad Agency. There, he was known as a kind of "genius who was in a temporary slump"-a hardworking guy who somehow remained optimistic even though he was having problems maintaining his reputation. Now, the meticulously combed steel-gray hair, the erect posture, the firm and determined jaw, the intense alertness, were missing. His hair was damp and tousled, his aggressive stride had deteriorated to an aimless shuffle.
He had walked perhaps half a mile when he sighted, to his left, large lanterns hanging in a partly enclosed porch. A crude sign on the rear of the building read simply: THE SHACK. It was obviously a commercial place of business-a bar, no doubt. He had not ventured this far since his arrival at Malibu, and therefore he hadn't noticed the place before. Reid paused, deliberating, then decided to mount the rickety, wooden stairway.
When he reached the top of the stairs, he could see that it was definitely a bar. People in casual attire sat on high stools and at crude, wooden tables, and he could see a bartender standing before a buzzing blender and glasses in front of people. He went inside.
The interior of the bar was not modern. In fact, if anything there was an obvious attempt at creating a kind of antique, junklike atmosphere. But it wasn't the decor that caught Reid's eye so much as the clientele. Once again, it seemed, he had stumbled into a lesbian bar. Except for two rather effeminate-looking men giggling in the corner, the eight or nine patrons scattered about the room were obviously dykes. At second glance, though, he noticed what appeared to be fairly normal-looking couples sitting back against the wall. It was difficult to tell for sure. The place was very dark. He took a seat at the bar and the bartender placed a napkin before him.
"What will you have, sir?" the man asked. There was no hostility in his voice and the patrons apparently didn't even know he had entered the room.
"Beer," Reid said. "A bottle of Schlitz, please." He didn't really want a beer. Actually, he was just killing time. No, in all honesty, this was one place he hadn't frequented and he had to admit that he hoped that perhaps Mona Seagram might be here. He silently cursed himself for allowing a teenage girl to be leading him around by the nose-to be directing his movements and occupying his thoughts to exclusion of everything else. Like the protagonist in Nabokov's Lolita, he had become obsessed with a nymphet-a girl far too young for him, a girl who could only bring him catastrophe and unhappiness. Really, he should leave this motley bunch and get back to his cottage and go to work. And then suddenly he decided he wanted it to be overcast again tomorrow so that he could pack up and head for the desert... forget Mona Seagram forever.
The bartender set the beer in front of him and before he could take a sip he saw her-Mona Seagram. She had come from the darkness at the far side of the room, apparently one of the couples he hadn't been able to see clearly, with Vincent probably. She ordered two bottles of beer, and Reid wondered why Vincent didn't fetch the beers. Was the sculptor-slob (he couldn't help thinking of Vincent as anything but a slob) trying to make a slave out of Mona?
Reid stared at her, his heart pounding inside his chest, his breath coming faster. As she waited, she rested her chin on her hand, her elbow on the bar, studying the rows of amber bottles almost clinically. Reid wanted to call out to her but he could not. God, she was beautiful! She had abandoned the Indian outfit and now wore tight denims-so tight the seams seemed ready to burst-and her breasts were bare almost down to the nipples. Yes, she wore a man's type shirt-probably one of that bastard Vincent's shirts-and the partly unbuttoned front displayed her full, rounded bosoms. Again, she wore no bra. Ah! there was a slogan for him: Wonder-Lift is like no bra at all. How could he be thinking of Wonder-Lift at a time like this? Had his job become a kind of curse-a thing he could never rid his brain of?
Just then she turned her head and sighted him. She seemed surprised, but then she smiled quizzically, her long, ebony hair-straight and shining and casual on her shoulders, framing her delicate features. She blinked her long lashes and he stared into her enormous blue eyes, heavy with eye shadow, her eyebrows exaggerated, penciled heavily. She had made an amazing transformation. She didn't even remotely resemble the Indian girl he had made love to on the sand. She was everything a man could want and, oddly, she looked much older than eighteen now. They just went on that way, staring at each other.
Finally, unable to endure her gaze any longer, Reid said, "Hello, Mona."
"Hello, Reid," she said. When the bartender set the two beers in front of her, she paid him and then came over and sat down beside him.
"I've been looking for you, Mona. I-I guess I've been looking for you everywhere. You don't go to the antique shop often, do you?"
She shook her head. "No, almost never. Why have you been looking for me, Reid? Just to-to fuck me again?"
"Why do you think? I've really been looking for you-everywhere. I can't seem to stop thinking about you. Don't reduce my search to just-just physical. All I said was that I've been looking for you and I can't stop thinking about you, okay?"
"Okay. Listen, I have to take one of these beers over to my friend. Then I'll be back. Sit tight."
She left and a moment later, as promised, returned.
"Who was the beer for?" he asked. "Vincent?"
She shook her head very slowly, significantly, a peculiar smile playing about the corners of her mouth. "There are some things I didn't tell you, Reid," she said finally. "You see, there is no Vincent. That beer was for Mike, Mike is a girl. Actually her name is Michele. I'm sorry I lied to you, Reid, but I didn't think you'd understand."
Reid grabbed for a pretzel and chewed on it frantically. Yes, he felt quite sure of it now. He was going mad. And so was everybody else!
"Oh, there was a Vincent, all right," Mona said. "For a while there was a Vincent, but he just took off. That's the way men are, right? They find a better set of tits or something and then it's poof and they're gone, right?"
"I wouldn't know," Reid said. He was beginning to get the picture and he was beginning to feel faintly nauseated. It was fairly apparent that Mona-his beautiful Mona-was telling him that she was les. Still, after their love session at the shore he found this hard to believe. One thing was certain. If Mona had turned lesbian, she comprised definitely the female part of the relationship. He wondered if her girl friend/boyfriend, or whatever it called itself, couldn't be far away.
Reid forced a laugh, which came out sounding like a gurgle, and glanced over his shoulder at the girls sitting at the tables. Now that his eyes had accustomed themselves to the lighting, he saw that what he had assumed were heterosexual couples were, in reality, dykes and their fem girl friends. Although he couldn't be certain, a huge blonde in a buckskin jacket and baggy jeans qualified as his rival. Her narrowed eyes were hate-filled and apprehensive. Holding a cigarette crudely between her teeth, she lit it, then sent the smoke hissing at him as though it were venom.
"Is your friend Mike wearing a kind of cowboy jacket?" Reid asked.
"Right," Mona said, "and to be perfectly honest with you I'm trying to make her jealous right now."
"I think you're succeeding," Reid said. "She's pawing the floor and breathing fire. I think it's an awful waste-someone like you, Mona, giving yourself to a-a creep like her. Tell me, you weren't kidding me the other night, were you? I mean, you do like men, too?"
"You know better than to ask me that, Reid. I'm not that good an actress. You turn me on and you know it. You turned me on since that first day at my father's place. You might say that it was my father who sort of turned me off."
Reid looked directly into Mona's deep blue eyes and with great seriousness asked, "Are you salvageable?"
Mona merely laughed and draped her arm over his shoulder.
"What's that for?" Reid asked. "To make the dyke jealous?"
Mona shrugged. "Maybe. I'm not sure. We'll have to wait and see."
"You are becoming a most puzzling young lady," Reid said.
"I know," Mona said, and then she gave him a kiss on the cheek and hugged him. "Just play along with me for a little while, okay? I promise you won't be sorry, Reid. Please?"
"Okay, my little ding-a-ling. Whatever you say, but tell me one thing: Does your friend carry weapons? I mean, is she partial to knives or anything? Basically I'm a coward and I don't like my body stabbed or shot or maimed in any way, shape, or manner."
"Oh, no," Mona assured. "Nothing like that. Let's go to my place now. It's just down the beach. All right?"
Reid gulped down the last of his beer. "All right. Let's," he said. All of a sudden he didn't give a damn. He wanted Mona, no matter what. He had been searching for her for days and, now that he was assured that Mike would not be throwing sticks of dynamite at him, he was curious to know just what was going on inside Mona's beautiful little head.
As they stood up, Mona kissed him on the cheek and glanced defiantly over toward Mike. Then she led him through the rear exit and down the wooden stairway to the beach. There, she encircled his waist with her arm and they walked through the deep sand like lovers strolling between lovemaking sessions.
"It's just a little ways farther," she said.
Reid kissed her on the cheek as they walked. He couldn't believe that he had found Mona at last. It seemed too good to be true! The circumstances were a bit weirder than he had anticipated, true, but here he was walking arm in arm with the girl who had haunted his sexual fantasies for years.
"When does the gag end?" he asked.
"The gag?"
"You succeeded in making your girl friend jealous, right? So what do we do now? Have coffee somewhere and return with our hair all mussed up? Look disheveled? Just what is your plan, my sweet?"
Mona giggled, stopped in her tracks, and then pressed her body hard against his. The big breakers boomed onto the beach as she ground her breasts and hips hard into him. Her mouth was open-wet and urgent against his. When they finally parted, she said, "Now do you think all I want is coffee? Don't be an idiot, Reid. I want to fuck. Ever since that day with you I've loved to fuck. God, every girl should have a man like you to break her in right. No, Reid. I want to fuck a man! And you, my sweet thing, are one of the few real men I've encountered."
"Then why this bit with Michele-Mike, whatever-I don't understand." He held his hands out beseechingly.
"You'll understand. I'll-I'll explain. Please. Just be patient for a little while." She put her arm around his waist again and they continued walking.
In a few minutes, Mona pointed to a two-story house with an enormous patio filled with cushy furniture, all wrought iron and white leatherette. She led the way up the short stairway, opened the sliding glass doors, and they stepped inside one of the plushest beach houses Reid had ever seen. There was a large bar in one corner-six or seven stools-which was well stocked with every conceivable kind of liquor and liqueur, a built-in TV, wood paneling on the walls, and several obviously expensive oil paintings on the walls. One painting in particular caught his eye. It was a huge portrayal of two voluptuous women in a passionate embrace. One of the girls cupped her partner's breasts while the other reciprocated by fondling the first's genital area.
Reid whistled softly. "Nice place you have here," he said. "You have good tastes-I must say."
Mona again pressed herself to him, just as she had on the beach. "I have to confess that I lied to you just a little, Reid," she said. "I do accept some help from Daddy still. He pays the rent here, for instance." She grinned, following his gaze to the picture of the two naked girls on the wall. "Vincent painted it before he left," she said. "Not a bad painting for a sculptor, uh? He became a little disillusioned with my relationship with Mike before he left, so he left me that little memento. The blonde is supposed to be Mike and the brunette is supposed to be me."
"Charming," Reid said, suddenly angry. "Are you in love with her or what?"
"No-I-I don't think so. Right after I got out of the hospital-I wasn't lying about that-she was very good to me. I met her one night at The Shack, had a little too much to drink and...."
"Nice place, The Shack," Reid said. "They serve eighteen-year-olds and promote lesbianism."
Mona just shrugged and shook her head helplessly. Then she faced him and slipped her hand beneath his terry cloth top and began running her smooth hand over his chest. "I guess I was just a poor little rich girl out for kicks. I know one thing, though. I still dig men-real men like you-no matter what kicky things Mike does to me. When it comes right down to it I guess I'm what Mike calls a 'dumb little heterosexual country girl.' I-I get a different tingle with a man... different vibrations entirely. Shall we tingle?"
"Why?" Reid asked. "Just to flaunt that freak, Mike?"
Conflicting emotions surged within Reid. The thought of this delectable girl in the arms of the blonde beast she called Mike tortured him and, at the same time, intrigued him. In a way, he felt as though he would be compared, tested, rated. Somehow, he felt vaguely inadequate. Mona claimed she wanted to have sex with him, but she had also claimed she wanted to make Mike jealous. It was all very confusing-especially the lies she had told him. They hadn't been necessary and he found himself wondering if maybe she had become some kind of compulsive liar. Still, his erection seemed ready to burst through his trunks. There was something about her that he simply could not resist. Suddenly he grabbed her, pulling her hard against him.
She must have read the conflict in his eyes, for she reached down and began squeezing his erection while he massaged her breasts. "It's just you, Reid," she breathed. "Right now it's just you and me. Forget Mike. I'm not thinking of a woman now while I'm playing with your-your beautiful thing. How could I? I just want you, Reid."
Reid started to lower her onto the rattan sofa, but she, instead, led him by the hand to the bedroom. There, she stood by the king-size bed and tantalizingly removed her denims and blouse. She stepped from the pile of clothing, running her hands over her nipples, then down over the curve of her hips. As she lay on the bed, her knees tucked up under her chin, he could see the delectable soft hair and moist line of her vagina.
"Why don't you take off your clothes and free that bulging prick of yours?" she cooed. "Take off your clothes and fuck me, Reid."
Without taking his eyes from her, Reid pulled the terry cloth top over his head, slid out of his trunks and crawled onto the bed beside her. Instantly, their bodies locked together, Reid cupping her firm breasts while Mona clamped her hand tightly about his bone-hard penis.
Mona's mouth was lapping his as though it were an ice cream cone. He responded, licking hungrily at her mouth, then lowered his head and drew each of the erect nipples deep into his mouth, nursing, kneading with both hands. Now, both of Mona's hands fumbled crazily with his manhood, gently groping and tickling his rod and balls as he continued lapping and sucking at her delicious breasts.
"Oh, I love your big, hard cock," Mona gasped, trancelike. "I love that great big stiff man's prick! I want to suck on it, I want it inside my cunt, I want it everywhere... everywhere...."
Reid's hand palmed her firm butt that writhed and rotated beneath his urgent touch. He ran his hand lingeringly over her delectable belly and finally down to her dripping snatch. "I could never get tired of doing things to you, Mona," he murmured. "Never."
She began moaning as he gently massaged her clitoris and placed her legs tightly together to achieve the full friction of his probing finger. When he began his descent, it was as though they had read each other's minds... the way it had been on the beach... the way it had been years before when she had been barely more than a little girl. His mouth moved down from her breasts, lapping cuntward at the same instant her hand exerted pressure to push him in that direction.
Mona's head tossed from side to side feverishly as she urged him on, tore at his hair with her fingernails, and moaned pitifully. "Oh, Reid... yes... yes... you know just what I need... what I want... yes... you always did...."
His mouth finally settled on the silky, female scent of her love mound, and he began kissing-just kissing at first-then he spread her legs wide as he lapped hungrily up and down the entire length of her juicy cunt. Again and again, she lifted her buttocks high to engulf more and more of his gulping mouth. Finally, he settled down to the business at hand and concentrated strictly on her tingling nerve center. He moved his tongue horizontally, tenderly at first, until she began taking his hair in great handfuls, driving him to greater and greater pressure as her mewing rose to hysterical shrieks.
"Gobble it, Reid!" she screamed. "Swallow my cunt whole!"
"Then, just as they had done on the beach, with great effort she suddenly tore his mouth from her gushing slit and reversed herself on the bed so that she could feast on him, too. They lapped greedily at each other's genitals, gorging themselves, grunting to the accompaniment of the squeaking, rolling bed as they lost all contact with this world.
When the time was right-it was again as though they had read each other's mind-they ceased tonguing each other's crotch at the same instant. Reid reversed himself and slid his hips between her saliva-wet thighs.
"Yes... Fuck... Fuck!" Mona pleaded, whimpering pitifully. "Put it in... put it in my pussy... stick it all inside me... my pussy's all yours and it wants your big dong inside it!"
Skillfully, one hand guided his engorged member into her swollen, ovenlike cavern while her other hand clawed at his buttocks. When he had entered her entirely, jammed his cock into her slick chasm to the hilt, she placed her heels on his shoulders and spurred him on frantically. He felt them pummeling his shoulders as she drove fiercely, the entire lower half of her body rising, thrusting, grinding her pelvis into his own. And then, she assumed her "ready to come" position-her favorite-and lowering her legs, locked her heels behind his knees.
"Ohhhh... Ohhhh," she gasped, and he knew she had reached her climax.
"No... no," she squealed. "Not yet... not yet... almost... almost... there... there... OHHHHH, THERRRE!"
A moment later, he too reached the peak. Still propping himself up on his elbows over her, he shuddered in electric ecstasy as wave after wave of sobbing, spasming, orgasmic waves racked both their bodies.
Gradually, he returned to the now and found himself muttering something in her ear. What he had been saying he did not know, but she was crying against his shoulder and repeating again and again, "Yes... oh, yes... yes... yes...."
"Look at the goddam animals-fuckin' like they was in a barn!" a cold, high-pitched yet husky voice interrupted from the doorway behind.
Reid turned with a start and saw big, blonde Mike, Mona's dyke friend, standing there sneering. Her face took on a kind of grin, but there was no humor in the narrowed, raging eyes.
"That was the gruntiest screw I ever saw," the big dyke said. "How disgusting can you get?"
"What-what are you doing here?" Mona gasped.
"You wanted to get me mad, make me jealous?" Mike said. "Okay, you succeeded. Now that you've got your occasional man-fuck out of your system, tell him to get his ass out of here. Let's go back to being civilized again."
"You had no right-to come here," Mona said. "It wasn't right-" She stopped talking abruptly and peered beyond Mike. "Who-who is that with you?"
Reid lifted himself up on one elbow and saw that there was someone else with Mike.
"Just a little assistance I brought along," Mike said. "In case lover boy here decides to make trouble."
"Maxine?" Mona asked, squinting, still trying to make out the figure in the living room.
"Yeah, Max," Mike said. "That's right."
Reid felt the adrenalin surging through him. He sat up. "Mona, do you want these freaks here or not?" he asked.
"No, Reid, I didn't invite them and they have no business just coming in this way."
Reid hastily slipped into his trunks and stood up. "All right, girls. You heard her. Out!"
Max, who was even bigger than Mike, moved into the doorway and they both stood there smugly, defiantly.
Reid strode directly to them, took each one by the arm and started toward the glass sliding doors. "Be nice little dykes now and just run along now," he coaxed as he went.
Suddenly Max caught him in the back of the head with a vicious blow with her forearm. Reid had the sudden and terrifying feeling that maybe these freaks had studied karate. He saw stars as he went staggering across the room. Luckily, he sidestepped just in time to avoid Mike's deadly kick at his groin. He stood there then, panting, something deep inside him preventing him from lashing out at these two dykes. You did not hit females, he thought. Men did not use violence against women, something from far in his past cried out. But then he suddenly realized that these were not real women; they weren't even female. With effort, he suspended the idea briefly that the objects of his assault were not female. First, he hurled himself at big Max and sent her spinning and crashing against the sliding glass door. He slid the door open then and literally threw her from the porch onto the beach. She wriggled for a moment, then lay still.
He turned just in time to ward off Mike, who came at him wielding a vase like a battle-axe. He caught her arm and threw her back against the wall. As she started to rise, he deliberately removed the painting of the lesbian lovers from the wall-the one Vincent had painted in despair prior to leaving Mona-and brought it down with all his might on her head.
The big dyke groaned dazedly and, before she could regain her senses, Reid raced her across the room and flung her, too, from the porch onto the sand below.
Max, who had regained her senses, now helped Mike to her feet and then they both began half running, half stumbling through the sand into the distance.
Reid stood there, breathing hard as he watched them flee for safety. Finally, he was aware that Mona was standing beside him. "I'm sorry, Mona," he said. "I know they're your friends, but I-well, they asked for it, didn't they? "I'm sorry I ruined your painting."
Mona's arm slid around his waist. "Reid, it's something I should have done myself a long time ago. Good God, you get involved with someone like that and they just won't leave you alone. I guess I was on some kind of crazy 'trip.' I didn't fully realize it until we were together just a while ago. I guess I needed somebody or something to jar me away from that-that dyke scene. There was more to it than I guessed. It got awfully damned complicated. But I'm out of it now. I know I am.
He turned and saw that she was smiling in relief, looking up gratefully into his eyes. He gazed into her big, blue eyes and held her close, again their bodies pressed together. He felt something he had never felt with any other woman in his life. There in the salt air with the sound of the surf pounding in his ears, he doubted if he would ever care for another woman the way he now cared for Mona. There was only one trouble-the obvious one... their age difference. Mona had mentioned the difficulty in socializing and whatever else she had done in a society of lesbians. The same held true in functioning in a normal society when the age difference was so glaring between a man and woman.
There would be an awful lot to talk about, but somehow he knew he had to be with Mona, that somehow they would find a way to be together. He would have to work things out with Janet, too. Janet had become very dependent on him-probably even expected to marry him. Now the name Janet seemed only a word from the past.
"Let's go inside, Mona," he said suddenly. "I want to talk to you about a rather serious matter."
She grew fearful. "You're not angry with me, are you?" she asked.
He smiled and took her hand reassuringly. "No, Mona. I've made a decision and I just want to see how you feel about it, that's all."
She seemed relieved. "Oh, I'm so glad you're not angry. I thought you might scold me and then just leave. I-I don't want to be alone right now. Can you stay awhile?"
"I don't have to be back at the office for five more days," he said, grinning.
"Ummm, five whole days," Mona said. "And will you show a girl some more of what she's been missing during those five days?"
"I guess I could be persuaded, yes," Reid said. "Providing you cooperate, of course."
Mona's hand stole down and began rubbing his dormant cock tantalizingly, artfully bringing it to life. "Gladly," he said. "Yes, I'll gladly show you what we've both been missing." He removed her hand-it was an effort, but he placed her hand on his shoulder with difficulty-and then he spoke seriously. "But what I'm concerned about is after the five days. Come on inside."
He sat her down in the living room and spoke frankly. He told her that he wanted a "continuing" relationship with her. He proposed that since the season was nearly over anyway, she return to the city with him in five days and come to work as his personal secretary at Luben's Ad Agency. There would be no problem, he explained. The agency allowed him free rein. He could do whatever he pleased-hiring an assistant, whatever-so long as he delivered results and handled his accounts successfully. Mona typed and took shorthand and that was a definite plus. He explained that he wanted to take care of her and that he needed her. He made the point, too, that a change of environment and ceasing to live a useless life might be good therapy. A place to go and something to do each day might be good for her, he pointed out.
When he had finished, she came and knelt at his feet and expressed her gratitude tearfully. "Oh, that sounds wonderful, Reid," she sobbed. "You seem to know just what I need."
"I'll rent you an apartment in my building," he said.
"Oh, yes," she said. "That sounds marvelous-just marvy! Right now, though, there's something else I want."
Her fingers worked tickingly on his crotch and then she slid his trunks down and gazed worshipfully at his lazy hard-on. He watched her as she kissed his testicles, tongued his prick and finally took the entire shaft into her mouth and, mewing, began sucking his cock with all the skill of a seasoned prostitute. She was not a whore, of course, and her act was one of gratitude-of love.
Twice he tried to stop her-wanting to make love to her-but she wouldn't hear of it. He had no idea, as lovely Mona munched on his engorged tool, that the act was a foreshadowing of things to come, for it was this very act that Mona now performed that would take him out of his "slump" and make him the most successful account executive in the history of Luben's (or any other) advertising agency. Though he did not know it, Mona would be the instrument of his phenomenal and meteoric success.
He watched her lap at his hard prick adoringly until she finished him. She was like a woman gone mad as the contents of his balls exploded in her mouth. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and he nearly blacked out-so intense was his pleasure. Then, after a few minutes, they went hand-in-hand to the bedroom to take a nap before beginning their five-day orgy of delight.
Mona had been worth waiting for, unquestionably. There would be five days of unspeakable ecstasy. Then they would return together to the city and an entirely new and exciting life with Mona beside him, both at his apartment and at work.
Chapter Four
"What a lovely apartment building!" Mona said to Reid as she met him at the entrance of the apartment building he had lived in for over a year now. It was 'Sunday night, Reid's vacation over, and they had driven in separate cars from Malibu Beach. Mona had parked her Mercedes on the street and Reid had parked in his own stall-number 24-in the subterranean parking area below. Reid pointed to the VACANCY sign to the right of the wide, fountain-lined walkway. It was dark, but the multi-colored floodlights illuminating the front of the plush building made the sign clearly visible.
"After tomorrow, it will be your apartment building, too," he said, hugging her.
They walked arm in arm through the thick-carpeted lobby, then out along the lighted swimming pool to his apartment. Reid fished for the key, inserted it in the lock and they entered. "After you," he said.
Mona gave a low whistle. "Nice and spacious," she said, "and I love the beiges and browns. Really scrumptious. Will my apartment be like this?"
"Same floor plan," Reid said, "but the colors might be a little different. All the apartments here are slightly subdued in color, though. I know you'll like it, even though it isn't exactly an interior decorator's dream, like your father's place."
"His place is too gingerbready for my taste," she said. "No, I think I'll like this place very much. How is your office furnished? Will I like it?"
"First-rate," Reid said. "You'll love it. Ad agencies always have to maintain the success image you know. Do you want a drink? Brandy? Scotch? Anything?"
Mona yawned, then stretched so that her full, firm breasts jutted against her tight blouse. "I think I'd rather go to bed. Would you mind? Oh, Reid-it's been such a wonderful five days. I'm sorry it's over. I-I guess I want to go to bed and snuggle up with you because I don't want our vacation together to end." She came over to him, draped her arms over his shoulders and, mischievously, rubbed her pelvis against his until she could feel his penis begin coming to life. "What do you think, Reid? Don't you think it would be nice to go to bed?" She blinked her eves in mock innocence.
Reid's prick stood at full attention and his breath came faster. He cleared his throat, obviously aroused now, and gave a low, evil chuckle. "Yes, dear, I think it would be nice to go to bed now," he said.
He carried her into the bedroom then, lay her on the bed, and slowly undressed her. When she was completely naked, he turned the bedspread back and she sprawled in anticipation on the white sheets, her deeply tanned body (all except for her breasts and a narrow space that ran from her hipbone across her downy little snatch to the other hipbone where her halter and bikini bottoms had covered her when sunbathing) a delectable contrast against the white background.
He quickly slipped out of his own clothing then, turned on the soft night light beside the bed and crawled onto the bed beside her. Mona began playing with his chest, fondling his nipples while he smoked a cigarette.
"First thing tomorrow," he said, "go and rent the vacant apartment. It's not far from mine. Just on the other side of the swimming pool. Then, say about ten-thirty, come on over to the office and I'll introduce you to everybody."
"How do you know they'll hire me?" she asked. "I mean, are you sure?"
"Don't worry about it," he said. "I told you they'll let me do anything I want-at least for now. If I don't start showing more results soon-well, that's another matter. But for now, don't worry. You're as good as hired. Don't get there before ten-thirty, though. That'll give me a chance to let them know what to expect." He took a deep drag from his cigarette, thinking of returning to the office again and the problems and work ahead of him.
Mona's hand deftly moved lower until she grasped the swollen base of his prick. "A very good friend of mine-in fact, we're quite intimate-is getting bigger," she said.
Reid had not even realized that Mona's preliminary fondling had created an erection. "So he is," Reid said, responding and gazing down in amusement at his own hard-on. "So he is. That's because a certain friend of mine knows just the right things to do." God, he thought, after all the fucking and sucking they had done these past five days he was astonished that his pecker hadn't fallen off from over use. Mona was incredible!
She was licking his ear now. "What will it be tonight, my love? Do you want me to kiss it? There are three places, you know, and you're welcome to any of them. Just say where."
"Three?" he said. So far he had not fucked Mona in the ass, but apparently that's what she meant. Mona was precocious, all right.
"Naturally. Daddy used to like to do it to me in the rear. I guess he figured I couldn't get pregnant that way or something. It really seemed to turn him on. Did you ever do it to anybody in the rear?"
Somehow, Mona's question disturbed him. It was a kind of personal thing she was asking. Still, there didn't seem to be any secrets between them. "Yes," he said. "It was a long time ago though. She wanted me to do it, but afterwards she said it hurt her."
"Did you like the way it felt?" Mona asked, still flip-flopping his hard cock so that it smacked against his belly. "I mean, was it nice and tight? Did it feel better than fucking a pussy-even a tight one?"
"I don't remember," Reid said. "Personally, I'm sort of happy with the way things have been between us. Your pussy is just dandy for me."
"And my mouth? You like that, too, don't you?"
"Yes," he said, "I like that, too."
"I like it when you lick my pussy and I like it when you fuck my pussy with your cock." She gave his cock a hard squeeze. "I don't know which I like best, in fact. They both feel heavenly. I think I like to fuck best, though-finish that way at least. There's something about having your big ramrod right between my legs.-feeling it stick me hard and thinking about it shooting your come inside me that's better than sucking." She was silent for a moment, pondering this. "Still, I don't know. I guess it depends on your mood. Don't you think so?"
Mona could be maddeningly analytical at times. "Yes, I guess it does depend on your mood," he agreed.
"Do you want to stick it in my rear?" she asked.
Besides being analytical, Mona was very direct. "Uh-well, yes," Reid said. "But why don't we save that? Not tonight I wouldn't. Let's do that some other time."
"Okay," Mona said, snuggling and gazing down at his stiff rod. She was holding the tiny opening of the head open with her thumb and forefinger and examining what little she could see of the interior of his prick very clinically. "If I had a little tiny penis I could stick it right in the head of your thing," she said thoughtfully. "Then I'd know how it feels to fuck instead of just getting fucked."
Reid could not resist breaking into laughter. Mona was too much-absolutely too much! Never, but never, had he known a girl who was so totally outspoken-so frank, so experienced, and at the same time naive. He rolled over on his side and held her tight, kissed her eyelids and her cheeks and her armpits and her ears and everything he could find with his lips.
She giggled at his sudden attention, then grew thoughtful once again. "The reason I asked about doing it to me in my rear," she said, "is that I wondered if maybe men really do like it better that way. I've heard that some men prefer it that way. Look at gay guys. They must prefer it, right?"
"That's a different matter entirely," Reid said. "They don't dig women period, so what else are they going to do?"
"Yes, I guess you're right," she said, nodding against his shoulder. "But it's a funny thing, when Daddy did it to me that way I got the feeling he really preferred it to doing it to my pussy. At first I thought he just didn't want to deflower his daughter-all that-but after a while I really got the impression he'd rather fuck my ass. He used to foam at the mouth practically and tell me to relax while he was doing it. I got so that I even liked it. That's why I asked you if you wanted to do it that way. Do you think I have an anal hang-up?"
Again Reid laughed. "No, sweet," he said. "I think you're just a very curious and inquisitive girl-maybe the most curious and inquisitive girl of all time." He went on laughing.
"You're making fun of me," Mona said, pouting.
"No, I'm not," Reid said. "It's just that I never had a conversation quite like this before. It's probably my fault." He held her closer, apologetically. "That's it. I'm probably just inhibited. Look, we'll do it that way sometime if you want, but for right now-tonight-I'm a pussy and mouth man, okay?"
"Okay," she answered, her voice muffled and barely audible because she had buried her face in his shoulder. "It's just that I want to make you happy, Reid. I want to do anything to make you happy. I-I never felt this way with a man before-not Vincent or anybody. It's crazy but I sort of want to be your slave, Reid."
He raised her chin and looked into her tear-filled eyes. "You don't have to be anybody's slave, Mona. Don't ever forget that. I understand what you're saying and I'm immensely flattered, honey. Honestly, I am. But only sick people want slaves and only sick people want to be slaves."
"Okay, I'm sick then," she said.
"No, you're different, but you're not sick. I won't let you be-not ever." Reid paused, reflecting for the first time since their sexual encounter on the beach that, in reality, he was the sick one. Not sick maybe, but certainly unusual. After all, they locked adult men up in prison for carrying on sexually with girls Mona's age. Or did they? At eighteen, perhaps she had reached the age of consent. But when they screwed two years ago, she wasn't. If old Cecil Seagram had arrived home and caught them fucking and sucking there on the living room couch he could have had him locked up. He hadn't given the matter much thought, or, if he had, he guessed he knew that Cecil Seagram would not be in much of a position to press charges since he'd been playing sex games with his own daughter.
"I don't care," Mona was saying. "I want to be your sex slave. I want to do whatever you say."
"Very well, slave," he said, capitulating for the moment, "let's lie on our sides and kiss each other on the lips. You may, however, continue fondling me with your hand." He laughed.
"In fact, I forbid you to stop playing with my prick that way. In the meantime, slave, my hands will have their way with your titties. Is that clear, slave?" He tweaked her nipple.
"Whatever you say, master," Mona said brightly.
Good, he thought. He had gotten her out of her masochistic, crying mood. He kept forgetting that, actually, she was a little girl. Yes, emotionally she was a child and it was important that he remember this at all times and act accordingly He didn't want to hurt her. Not ever. He loved her truly and deeply and wanted the best for her. He had never felt such unselfish love for a female before. It was weird, he knew, but if losing her would mean making her happy, then he knew he would give her up. He did truly love her and therefore wanted her happiness more than anything else.
Right this instant he wanted to love her with his mouth. He wanted to express his love for her that way by tasting her all over. He continued massaging her beautiful breasts and, as he did this, slid down so that he could taste her tits, lick them and suck on them. For one thing, she liked to have her boobs sucked-it made her love slit nice and juicy and ready for his tongue and cock-and for another thing he went into a kind of trance whenever he tasted her body. He liked it that way, his feelings so powerful and total that he slipped into a kind of controlled lunacy as he laved her body everywhere with his tongue. She seemed to go into a trance at these times, too, so that they were both off somewhere experiencing the most powerful emotions possible-lost and away from anything and everything that could bother or torment anybody, just lost in the beauty and wonder and lust of the moment that was now and only now. Fuck yesterday and fuck tomorrow. To hell with them... only now... now....
And now he was kissing-tongue-kissing Mona's sensitive nipples that grew still more sensitive by the second. She rolled from side to side slightly as he probed with his tongue, trying for ever pore, not wanting to leave the tiniest spot unbathed with his saliva, wanting to deliver excruciatingly beautiful tingling delight to this lovely girl who moaned in response to his efforts.
Mona was clutching his head and feeding her breasts to his hungry mouth that lapped noisily, stopping only occasionally to press itself to her own mouth so that their tongues could interplay reassuringly before he returned once again to her breasts. Reid's hand rotated, moving circularly, over the gentle rise of her love mound and finally he inserted the tip of his finger into the top of her love slot. He reached up, touching his guzzling wet mouth and wet his finger with saliva, then returned to Mona's clitoris and daintily ran his finger about the little cluster of flesh. She crossed her legs at the ankles and began pumping slowly, enjoying the finger against her sizzling nerve center.
"Reid, you do-do everything so perfectly," she breathed. "You know just where it feels best... just how to do it until you drive me out of my mind...."
As she spoke, her own hand explored every inch of his stiff shaft and she squeezed and released, squeezed and released his organ as though it were the most blessed object in the world. "I want it in my mouth, Reid," she cried. "I want to suck on your dripping cock... please... please!" She tried to rise, like a patient too weak to sit up or move but determined nevertheless to reach an objective, but Reid held her on her back.
"No sweetheart," he commanded. "I want yours in my mouth first. Then you-you can-if you want to, but now I want to lick your beautiful cunt, baby... lick your gorgeous pussy-snatch."
Reid descended, kissing, showering hot, wet kisses along her rib cage and spasming stomach as he homed in on the dripping target of Mona's love nest. When finally he reached it, she instinctively drew her leg up high so that he could slip his head under and gain access to the hot prize of her vagina. He pushed her knees up on her chest then and began kissing her inner thighs, his kisses getting wetter and nearer her eager nest. Her moaning became pitiful pleas as she begged him to sink his tongue into her cunt.
First, Reid kissed conventionally up and down the length of Mona's gushing crater. Then, almost imperceptibly, he let his tongue play along the wet vaginal lips. When he was certain she could stand no more delay, he took the cunt lips, one at a time, into his mouth and bathed them with his tongue, nursed on them just as he had sucked on her nipples. Once, he looked up and saw Mona's features distorted into the most serene yet near-insane expression he had ever observed. Mona had been, literally, transported into another realm. Happy that his endeavors were well received, he continued. He parted the cunt lips finally and lapped at the inner lips, inserting his tongue up into her pussy as far as he could from time to time. Then, inevitably, he moved in on the clitoris, stabbing its flowerlike texture with his tongue tentatively, then deliberately and urgently as she moaned and chanted, "Good... soooo good... ohhhhhh...."
He had made up his mind to make her come that way. She had been so unselfish and giving of herself. Why shouldn't she come this way, he thought. But just before she reached her climax, as she had several times before, she lifted his head and crushed him to her breast.
"Don't you want to come with my tongue?" he queried, panting.
"Yes, yes... but I want you inside me, too. Oh, Reid, it was so wonderful... I-I almost blacked out...."
"Let me make you come that way," he asked. "I want you to be happy."
He again started to lower his head to her twat, but she stopped him. "No, Reid... no... I want you to fuck me. Do you want me to-to suck you? Do you? I will... oh, I will...."
She was willing to please-his little sex slave had deprived herself of an oral climax and now she wanted to be fucked but she was still thinking of him. He stopped her downward lunge. "No, baby," he said. "Maybe later. Right now, let's fuck... fuck."
Reid raised himself onto his elbows and endured the eternal second while she spread her leg to one side so that her legs were wide apart and ready for fucking. Then he held his throbbing cock in his hand and wiped it up and down her cunt so that their juices intermingled into a mushiness beyond comprehension. He rubbed the head of his prick against her clit and then down as far as her rectum, occasionally dipping it inside Mona's waiting channel for a second to heighten the anticipation.
"Oh, stick it all the way in! Stick it all the way up inside me, please. Don't torture me any longer, Reid. Fuck me! Fuck my pussy!"
At last, when he himself could stand the delay no longer, Reid began his entrance, slowly at first, then inserted his rod with one slick, slurping stroke right into the mushy center of Mona's expanding and contracting vagina.
"Ahhhhhh," she groaned, like some ancient soldier being speared, and the rhythm of love began.
The heat and warmth of the cunt that enveloped his pulsing meat nearly paralyzed Reid, so furnace-like and soft was its texture and climate. He straightened his elbows, raising himself high so that he could see the entrance and exit of his member as it probed between the soft cunt lips, poked its way into Mona's honey chasm. Mona raised her knees so that they rested against her shoulders, permitting him a splendid view of her cunt, buttocks and the tiny pink eye of her puckered anus.
A contented, unselfish-almost maternal-smile played about the corners of her mouth as she watched the lustful and enraptured look on Reid's face. It seemed odd, but Mona obviously enjoyed spreading herself this way, offering blatantly her private and most secret places for his pleasure and inspection. She was enjoying his enjoyment, and he realized that hers was a very special look, an expression that could not be duplicated except in just such a sexual activity.
"You like to watch your cock slide in and out of me, don't you?" she said, finally. "It makes you feel powerful?"
"Yes, powerful," he said, "but it's beautiful, too-looking at you with your legs wide apart and offering me everything. It's like every obstacle-every female obstacle and resistance of a lifetime removed," he said.
"I understand," Mona said, her eyes moist with pleasure and compassion. "That's why I'm holding my legs up so high. If I were a man I'd like to fuck a girl just the way you're fucking me. That's the way I'd do it-at least part of the time. But I like it, too. I like to do this because it tells you I'm all yours-that everything and anything I have to offer is yours. I just want to make you happy, and then I'm happy, too. Oh... that feels so goooood... yes, keep sticking it in all the way up... ummmmm...."
Conflicting emotions and desires warred within Reid as he fucked this girl of his dreams, watched his flesh hunk cram itself into Mona's snatch. He loved fucking her this way, but, at the same time, he longed to suck her, too. Finally, with effort, he withdrew his cock and bent down and lapped her love juices, tantalized her clit and smooth, sopping wet inner thighs with his tongue. While he did this, she placed her feet on his shoulders and gently gripped his head, indicating she enjoyed his lust for her and understood his insane need to fuck her and suck her at the same time.
After a few minutes of licking between her legs, once again he inserted his throbbing prick into her cunt and settled into a steady, stabbing rhythm to the accompaniment of her ecstatic moaning.
"Put-put your hand under my ass, Reid," she begged. "Hold my ass with your hand hard and pull my body toward your sticking prick, would you? I love to feel your hand tugging at my ass while you fuck me. Ummm, that's it. Oh, I love it when you just use my body-when you shove your thing hard at me and just pull at my ass like you need me more than anything in the world... like you're forcing me and need me so much you've gone crazy because you're fucking me. Then, it makes me crazy, too... crazy and beautiful... fucking and crazy and beautiful...."
It was as though Mona were experiencing a kind of religious orgy-as though she had become unintelligible and were speaking in "tongues." She was babbling and releasing the inhibitions of a lifetime-spewing forth ideas and words she would hot dream of uttering except in the act of sexual intercourse. Then she made an unusual request, and Reid complied. As gently as possible, he tickled her tight little anus-slippery and wet from the cunt juice that ran down into the crack of her ass-and, finally, began inserting his little finger. She squealed, spreading her legs still wider, as wide as possible, as his finger entered her eager rectum.
"Oh, Reid! Oh, God! You're sticking me everywhere! Everywhere! Oh, come up here and stick your tongue in my mouth, too. I want you to be sticking me everywhere with something! I wish you had three cocks!"
Reid again complied. He kissed her, forcing his tongue into her mouth and simulating fucking while his ramrod drove into her cunt and his finger jiggled like a vibrator in her asshole. For a moment, he thought she would fling herself from the bed with joy. She was in a kind of sexual seizure, a fit, as he stuck and twisted and tantalized her apertures. Then, to heighten her sensations, he also used his spare hand to finger-fuck her ear with his little finger, pausing only now and then to reach down and brush his hand across the nipples of her heaving breasts and give them a hard squeeze.
She was sucking on his tongue, drawing it deep into her mouth and grunting like a frenzied animal in heat as the bed rocked and he continued poking, probing, stabbing, jabbing her to a near-hallucinatory state. Now, even though he wasn't sure either of them could stand the pleasure much longer, he replaced his little finger with his middle finger and shoved it up her rectum all the way to his knuckle. There, he could feel his own prong plunging its way into her craving interior through the thin partition of flesh. He jiggled his finger faster, massaged his own cock with his finger up inside Mona's ass.
Now her heels not only pummeled his back, they threatened to batter his back and cave in his rib cage! He enjoyed her reaction however and felt no pain. He pulled his tongue from her mouth and, breathing huskily in her ear, asked her again and again if she liked what he was doing He asked her if she liked his cock inside her pussy and his finger in her rear and his hand that now squeezed her breasts. He knew the answer, of course, but he wanted to hear her say she liked it and he knew she wanted to admit she liked it. In a way, it was a kind of therapy for both of them. First, she would tell him, in detail, that she loved everything he was doing to her body, and then he would tell her how much he loved doing all these things to her body and making her happy.
After a long time, Mona asked, "Shall we come, my sweet? I want you to shoot your nice creamy sperm into my cunt while I climax. Shall we, darling?"
Reid's control-his ability to hold back for so long-had even impressed himself. Yes, he was eager to let his balls jerk and explode and send his juice scalding from his balls and up through his shaft into her seething cunt. Yes, indeed. Christ, yes! "Okay, let's," he rasped. "You tell me when, but I-I can't wait much longer. Just tell me when you're ready and we'll go off together." Thus far, in their relationship they had been amazingly successful at achieving simultaneous climaxes and he didn't want to ruin this very special fuck by not coming together. "Just-just tell me when," he repeated.
Mona's ankles slid along the backs of his legs now, the way they always did when she was getting ready to climax, and locked behind his knees for leverage. Then she began a slightly more intense rhythm, a sort of rotating movement that created friction over the entire area of his cock (if that were possible, but it certainly seemed that way!) and, at the same time, made his organ exert pressure just where she wanted it-in all her most sensitive places.
Not more than a minute had passed before she began clinging hard, desperately hard to him. That was the signal, the familiar clamping of her arms about his neck and intense concentration on nothing but her genital area. Now it was just cock and cunt, with all the frills gone, and she was driving fanatically toward the climax she craved-had to have and would not be denied. Her breath came unbelievably fast-he could not understand how a human being could breathe in such rapid-fire bursts-and then the breath became whining and breathing at the same time and her buttocks and entire body began trembling, quivering as she braced herself for orgasm.
"Don't stop!" she begged, over and over again. "Don't stop! Don't stop! Never stop! Don't stop! Never stop! Oh, Reid, please don't stop... harder, harder... oh... oh...."
And then, when she began grunting, her whole body spasming involuntarily, bucking madly, and he knew that she was well into her orgasm, Reid let go, too. He delivered perhaps ten hard thrusts, the final, nearly unbearable ones, and then his testicles bobbed, forcing his love fluid up and out the end of his pulsing hard-on and splattered the inside of Mona's vagina as she gasped to fulfillment at the same time.
"R-E-I-D!" she screamed, and then shivered for a long time before she lay still and crying beside him with her head buried in his shoulder.
He collapsed, his full weight upon her. He tried to roll her to her side without removing his still jerking organ so that she would be more comfortable without him pressing on top of her, but she wouldn't let him. She wanted him to remain exactly where he was, despite his weight. He guessed she did not feel anything at the moment, except supreme bliss, peace, fulfillment, and love. At least that was the way he felt now.
He lay there, panting and kissing her neck, totally spent but his organ still rock-hard inside her. Twice before, at Malibu, they had rested in just such a position and then, without ever withdrawing his member, they had fucked again. But this night had been too strenuous. He doubted if Mona desired such a double-fuck and, he strongly suspected, he wouldn't be capable of it anyway.
After a long time, Mona hugged him hard. "Ohhhh," she sighed. "It just seems to get better and better with us, doesn't it? There could have been an earthquake, anything, and I wouldn't even have noticed. I was completely out of it. Thank you, darling. That was wonderful... wonderful...."
"No, I think it gets worse and worse," Reid said, laughing with effort. "Why are you such a lousy lay?" He kissed her full on the lips then and, as he did so, he became aware that his cock was slowly dwindling back to its normal state. Well, no double-fuck tonight, he thought, and actually he was grateful. He felt totally spent. "Thank you," he said. "You're the most gorgeous, lovely, beautiful, sexy, little"-he groped for words-then decided to tease her some more-"sex object I've ever known."
She bristled. "Sea; object! Is that all I am--a-a sex object?" She pulled away from him, pouting, and his cock slipped out of her vagina. "I'm just a pussy that walks and talks?"
He pulled her close again. He was certain that she knew he had been only teasing. "All right then-how about love object?"
She bit his ear. "That's slightly better," she said, "but I'm still not wild about the object part!"
"It just means that you're the object of love, of my whole existence," he explained pontifically. "I'm fond of you, you know."
"Cut the crap," Mona said. "You mean I'm the object of your-your pecker. That's all I am-I'm simply the object of your horny old pecker, true?" She giggled.
Reid spanked her lightly on the buttocks, then reached over and turned out the night light and held her close. "Naturally, you are the object of my male organ-no question about that-but I would say it goes a bit deeper than that. Good night, little pet."
"Good night you-you animal!"
Mona growled. They both laughed, then cuddled close together and settled into a deep sleep.
Chapter Five
Over coffee the next morning, Mona posed a very logical question. "Why should I rent an apartment?" she asked. "Why can't I just stay here with you?"
"If you were anybody but Cecil Seagram's daughter that would be the simple thing to do," Reid said. "Unfortunately, your father is a very big man in the business-one of the biggest-and I don't think he'd be exactly ecstatic about his teenage daughter shacking up, with a guy twice her age. Also, I'd be crucified. No job-nothing. It's going to be a little tricky explaining your working as my personal secretary, much less explaining our living together. No, you have to maintain your own residence. We'll spend as much time as possible together, of course-either in your apartment or mine-but you must have your own address."
Mona agreed to the wisdom of this and when Reid left for the office, she assured him she would rent the vacant apartment first thing and then come to the agency at 10:30 sharp. Reid offered to write the rent check for her, but she just laughed in his face. "Look, Daddy sends me more than enough to live very comfortably. He gives me anything I want. I refuse to be a kept woman, at least as long as I can afford it. Go to your office and don't ever mention money again, sweetheart."
Reid had merely shrugged. "Do you know how many guys would like to know a beautiful eighteen-year-old who makes love like a skilled courtesan and is rich to boot?"
"Millions of 'em," she had said, "but I only care about one."
Reid was still thinking about this miracle-his finding Mona again-when he parked in his stall behind the agency. Carrying his briefcase filled with the mediocre ideas he had developed at Malibu, he pushed through the double doorway of Luben's and entered the elegant reception room.
"Good morning, Myra," he said, smiling at the blonde, big-busted receptionist.
"Good morning," she said. "Good to have you back, sir. Enjoy your vacation?"
If she only knew, he thought. "Yes, thank you, but of course it wasn't all play. It was considered a kind of 'working vacation.' Still, it was relaxing. Good to see you, Myra."
Reid pushed the elevator button and a moment later exited on the third floor. For just an instant, he felt a twinge of guilt. Three weeks and he had come up with what amounted to crap so far as the Gibbons and Wonder-Lift accounts were concerned. The problem now would be to disguise this fact from Arthur Luben and dodge pointed questions until he could come up with some answers before making his presentations to either of the accounts. He smiled amiably at employees he passed and chatted briefly with the art director, Jules Guthrie, and his assistant, Anita Trent. Then he went to his office and sat, discouraged, behind his desk.
He had accomplished damned little since he'd last sat behind this desk, he thought, and the idea depressed him. He removed his notes and tentative ideas for the Wonder-Lift campaign. Gibbons toothpaste was one thing; Wonder-Lift was quite another matter. Showing a girl smiling with sparkling, white teeth while admirers commented on the beauty of her smile could take any number of variations, all of them at least passable. But showing a well-stacked girl with jutting breasts and having a couple of guys commenting: "Wow! What a set of knockers! And she owes it all to her Wonder-Lift bra!" That wasn't yet possible. Someday maybe, but for the present the old mammaries had to be handled with care and discretion. That, Reid guessed, was his problem. He had been trying to come up with something entirely new in advertising brassieres while the nature of the product (plus traditional puritanical attitudes) blocked any new and creative approach he could conceive. He had been bumping his head against a wall, figuratively speaking, and now he resigned himself to the fact that his campaign would have to be along conventional lines.
The key then, he decided, would be to mask a rather ordinary approach with a hyper-dramatic presentation-particularly the presentation to the sponsors. Whether the campaign actually sold Wonder-Lift brassieres to the public was another matter. He'd worry about that later. Right now he had to make the account happy--the account and, of course, Arthur Luben. Otherwise, he would be out on his ass. The boy wonder burned out at the age of thirty-six.
How to present it? he asked himself. How? He was sitting there wracking his brain when his phone buzzed. He pressed the intercom button and said, "Reid Hartley."
It was Arthur Luben. "Welcome back, Reid. How was the vacation?"
"Fine-just fine. Just what I needed." What Arthur really wanted to know was whether or not he had completed and finalized his thinking regarding Wonder-Lift and Gibbons. They had discussed his three-week "working vacation" in detail before Reid's departure, and Arthur had made it clear that he expected results upon Reid's return. So now the boss was fishing. No, more than that! He was asking him into his office for a "chat," which was merely a subtle way of asking him for a "report" on his progress.
"Certainly, Arthur, I'll be right there," Reid said. He hung up the phone and sat scowling. He would just have to fake it, he decided, and rose and went out the door and down the hall to Arthur Luben's office.
The door was open. Art Luben, slightly bald, paunchy, his complexion florid, sat dictating a letter onto his tape recorder. Reid cleared his throat and, looking up, Arthur gestured for him to sit down in the big leather chair in front of the desk. Reid went over and sat down.
"Sincerely, Arthur Luben-" Arthur said, finishing his dictation and turning off the machine. He smiled then; gave Reid one of his enormous, toothy smiles. "Well, Reid, naturally I'm curious as to how you've progressed with the Wonder-Lift campaign. Where do we stand?"
Reid stared him straight in the eye and, feigning confidence, even cockiness, told the biggest lie of his career in the advertising business. "Couldn't be better," he said. "I've come up with an idea I guarantee will dazzle the nipples off the Wonder-Lift people." He paused for dramatic effect and grinned. "If you don't mind though, I'd rather keep it to myself for the present. Art. It's a bit unorthodox, but I'm sure you'll be pleasantly surprised. Let's put it this way. I guarantee results, but I have a finishing touch I want to work out before I reveal it."
"Jesus Christ, Reid," Arthur Luben said. "This isn't Scotland Yard. Can't you give me a-a slight clue? After three weeks, I think I deserve a hint at least. They're coming here for the presentation next Monday, you know."
Reid merely smiled, exuding self-confidence. "I am well aware of that date, Art," he said, "but please trust me."
Art Luben stared at his employee incredulously. As Reid had calculated, Arthur knew that Reid did not lie-at least he never had before-and he also knew that Reid was capable of delivering dramatic results. Therefore, he did not press the matter. He merely mumbled something about three goddamn weeks vacation and now all he was getting was "wait and see." To save face, he switched the subject to the Gibbons toothpaste account. Now Reid decided to mingle his lie with at least some truth.
"Frankly, Art, I haven't decided on the final approach. I have several ideas worked out in fairly complete detail, but I haven't decided on the best approach as yet. That presentation is a week after Wonder-Lift and, if you don't mind, I'd rather take one account at a time. I assure you, we're on firm ground with Wonder-Lift," he lied. He shrugged. "Gibbons is shaping up to be rather conventional-good but nothing startling."
Arthur sighed in exasperation; then good-naturedly he said, "Okay, Reid, I give up. I might as well go home and talk to my German shepherd. I'd get more answers. Good to have you back-at least I suppose it's good to have you back. Frankly, I'm hung-over and I feel lousy. If you say the Wonder-Lift thing is locked in tight, I'll take your word for it. Now get the fuck back to work, mysterious one."
Reid breathed a sigh of relief, stood up and went to the door. Then, remembering, he turned. "Oh I almost forgot, Art," he said. "I've got Cecil Seagram's daughter coming in this morning. I want her to work with me-at least on a temporary basis-as my personal secretary. These next few weeks are going to be pretty hectic for me and she'll be a big help to me. I figure we'd start her at about six-hundred a month. It's just a token salary. She doesn't need it, of course."
Arthur Luben ran his hands over his face. "Cecil Seagram's daughter. How do you know she isn't a spy or something, for crissake?"
"No chance," Reid said. "She hates her old man's guts. I've known her a long time. She's okay and she'll be a big help to me on the Wonder-Lift deal."
"Now you're taking over personnel's job," Arthur Luben said in disbelief. Maybe we should rename the agency Luben and Hartley."
Reid started to speak, but Arthur waved him away. "Okay, okay," he said. Anything you want so long as we make, the Wonder-Lift people happy. Now get the hell out! Please go away! You're driving me crazy, Reid. Absolutely nuts. Go away!"
"Yes, sir," Reid said, and left. When he reached his own office again, he sat staring at the ceiling for a long time. Well, at last he had reached the depths, he thought. He had resorted to outright lies to save his job. Unless he came up with something really dramatic, bold and successful, Arthur Luben would kick his ass out. That was a certainty. "Shit!" he said aloud.
As promised, Mona arrived promptly at 10:30. The buzzer of his inter-com sounded and the receptionist, Myra, announced Mona's arrival. "Send her right up," he said.
Mona sprang into his office jauntily, looking like no other secretary the firm of Luben had ever hired. She wore a miniskirt, which was all right, but her top was a kind of sleeveless Tee-shirt which was very tight and made it painfully apparent that she wore no bra. She also wore a beret. All in all, it was the most outlandish office attire Reid had ever seen.
"Where do you think you are?" he asked. "At a rock festival?"
She looked at him, apparently puzzled, then adjusted the angle of her beret and examined herself. "Rock festival? This is conservative! Would you rather I wore my Indian outfit?"
Reid shook his head. "No, never mind, not that! I guess it doesn't matter. Arthur Luben already suspects I'm crazy, anyway! That outfit will remove all doubt. Forget it... it's delightful... really. Sit down a minute. Then I'll introduce you around and everybody'll know I've gone kooky. After that, you can help me try to think up something for the Wonder-Lift campaign. Oh, and you'd better start wearing a bra. The Wonder-Lift people might not cotton to the bare breast look, okay?"
Mona was pouting. She sat down and stared at the floor. "I'm sorry if I embarrass you. It was a nice warm day and I thought ad agencies, being liberal and all, wouldn't mind a girl who dresses a little different." She crossed her legs and Reid could clearly see the outline of her snatch and the dark patch of her crotch through her white panties.
"No, it's all right," he said reassuringly. "You look fine. Maybe we need a little different look around here. At least you're wearing panties."
She cheered up, smiling. "Yes, white ones!"
"So I saw," Reid said. "Good girl." He got up then and came around and kissed Mona's cheek. "Don't worry about it, sugar," he said. "You look just fine. Anyway, if we don't please the Wonder-Lift people, we won't have to worry about office attire. We'll become beachcombers or something."
"It's really that important, huh?" she asked.
"Yes, it's really that important," he echoed. "Come on, I'll introduce you to a few people and I guess you'll have to fill out an employment application or something."
Mona dutifully followed him from the office and down the hall to the art department where she met the art director, Jules, and his assistant, Anita. Reid studied their reaction to her and was pleased that they seemed to accept her. But then they were art people and art people accepted almost anything.
As they were about to leave, Anita whispered in his ear, "I see you had an interesting vacation," she said. "I trust you came up with lots of fresh ideas-nice young ones." She laughed and blinked significantly. "I like her, Reid. Really. We need something a little unusual around here to perk us up. I love her Wonder-Lift bra!"
Reid merely grinned, trying not to appear too lecherous, and they went down the hall, sticking their heads in and making informal introductions. Everybody seemed to have a twinkle in their eyes, as though they guessed that the relationship between Reid and his new personal secretary was something other than pure business.
Oddly, it was Arthur Luben himself who was the most gracious and responsive in greeting Mona to the firm. Perhaps it was out of respect for her father, Cecil Seagram, an acknowledged genius in advertising, but Arthur embraced her as he might his own daughter and expressed confidence that Mona would be a tremendous asset to the firm and, in particular, to Reid Hartley. There was a great future in advertising for a bright girl with fresh ideas and the courage to vary from the norm (he was apparently referring to her attire) and he assured Mona that he would have his eye on her.
As he hugged her, Reid thought: Eye on her, hell. He would like to have his prick in her. Arthur Luben seemed delighted with Mona and spent a long time staring directly at her large, dark nipples that showed through the filmy material of her blouse. "If you have any problems, dear-any problems at all-feel free to consult me." He laughed nervously, still staring at Mona's luscious boobs. "After all, Reid here doesn't have the answers to everything. Yes, feel free to bring any problems that might arise directly to me, your president."
They left the office and just before they entered the elevator to go downstairs to the personnel office, Reid glanced back and saw Arthur Luben standing in the hall, still admiring Mona's strikingly voluptuous body. He quickly ducked back into his office when he saw that Reid had seen him.
Iris Periwinkle of personnel was probably the only member of the firm that seemed somewhat hostile toward Mona. Of a conservative nature, she seemed shocked at Mona's attire. More important, though, it was obvious that she resented anyone being hired without first going through proper channels. When she learned that Mona had been hired to start at $600 a month she frowned with disapproval, handed Mona an application and practically demanded that Mona list references covering the past five years.
Reid immediately put an end to her insults by taking the application from Mona. "Mister Luben himself approved this employee, Miss Periwinkle." And then to Mona, "Fill the application out at your leisure-no rush-and don't worry about references." He turned his gaze once again to the angry Miss Periwinkle. "I think any personnel department that asks an eighteen-year-old to list references going back five years is due for an overhaul. What do you want? The names of people she used to babysit for? Really, Miss Periwinkle, let's not be ridiculous. Fortunately, you'll be retiring no doubt before this girl has a work history that goes back five years. Come on, Mona. We've work to do."
Back in his office, Reid closed the door and sat with his feet up on the desk. He told Mona to stretch out on the couch and relax. "We can think better relaxed!" he said. "All that crap about conducting yourself like an officer in the army or a mortician never yielded one creative idea." He scratched his head. "You know, I think you've already given me an idea. I see a television spot... a girl walking... she's bra-less and the camera gives us a closeup of her jiggling, firm young breasts. Voice over says: "Freedom... Do your own thing... It's the 'in thing' if you're eighteen... but every woman isn't eighteen... That's when Wonder-Lift gives you that free look... It's like wearing no bra at all."
Reid frowned. "What do you think? We're selling youth and sexual attraction without really saying it. The camera tells the story and the voice merely implies. Jesus! I wish we could say, Let it all hang loose! That would be perfect-sell like crazy-but there's no way we could get away with it." He hit the desk with his fist. "That's the trouble with trying to market something in a medium with so many restrictions.
"I think it's good," Mona said. "Why not? I agree about the 'Let it all hang loose' idea-you couldn't use that-but the rest seems perfectly fine to me. Mrs. Saggy Tits thinks she will look eighteen again. Why not?"
"Why not?" Reid repeated. "Why not?" His mind was elsewhere, racing and trying to figure the reactions of the Wonderlift people. "I hate to ask you this," he said finally.
"Ask what?"
"Would you consider sitting in this office wearing nothing on top but a Wonder-Lift bra?"
Mona nodded. "Sure, if you think it would do any good?" she said. "Sure, why not?"
"Good," he said, and then his eyes lit up. "There's one other thing. Again, I hate to ask it-I hate to make an exhibitionist of you-but would you consider wearing that miniskirt without panties? All you'd have to do is cross your legs just once." Reid laughed evilly. "Lester Forbes and Winthrop Corey-they're the Wonder-Lift heads we have to please-will flip. I just know it! Would you do it?"
"You know I'd do anything for you, Reid," Mona said. "In fact, if you wanted me to, I'd even go to bed with one of them if it meant your job."
Reid waved his hand and grimaced. "No, no," he said. "Let's not be ridiculous. That won't be necessary." Oddly, although he had instantly rejected the idea of Mona having any sexual contact with the Wonder-Lift people, her idea was an excellent one. He found himself visualizing Mona alone in the office, the door locked, with one of the Wonder-Lift men while he lunched with the other in a restaurant. He pictured Mona removing her bra and displaying her bare tits for either Forbes or Corey. No, he thought, that would be asking too much, but he found himself storing the idea for future use should it become absolutely necessary.
"You're a sweetheart," he said. "Already you're an inspiration to me and this is only your first day! Hey, let's get the hell out of here and go someplace nice for a few drinks and dinner." He caught himself then. "Oh, I keep forgetting you're a minor. You can't drink, can you?"
"They hardly ever ask me for identification," she said, "but-but we just take off-I mean, leave the office? This is my first day. I don't want to-to make a bad impression."
He chuckled. "Baby, there aren't any time-clocks here. So long as you deliver-please the accounts-you can do anything you please. I'm the boss and I say, let's split out of here."
"Gee, I certainly love this job," Mona said, standing. "Not too challenging, but the work load is light."
"Don't worry your pretty little head, sweet. You've given me the answer to the whole Wonder-Lift problem. You deserve lunch and the afternoon off. I think we should be able to think of something to do this afternoon, don't you?"
Mona reached down and fondled his balls. "Yes," she breathed. "If we try really hard we should be able to think of something."
Reid broke away, pressed the inter-com button and informed Myra that he would be out for the remainder of the day and to take any messages and hold them for tomorrow. Myra said, "Yes, sir," and Reid and Mona left.
Chapter Six
"I feel practically naked without panties," Mona said, grimacing as she stared across the office at Reid behind his desk. Reid glanced at his wristwatch. Lester Forbes and Winthrop Corey, the Wonder-Lift advertising men, were due to arrive in about ten minutes. Despite his experience, his stomach was fluttering inside like crazy. This presentation literally meant his job; the entire agency was waiting for the outcome. Still, he didn't want to coerce Mona.
"You don't have to go through with this if you don't want to, Mona," he said. "I mean it."
"No, I want to help you, Reid. I want to go through with it. I just feel funny not wearing panties with this miniskirt, that's all."
"Okay, let's try it again. You've unbuttoned your blouse and they're staring at your bare breasts, right? I'm still standing at the pedestal, talking about the visual aspect of the TV spot, but by now they're probably not listening to me. They're staring at you. Now, slowly and not too obviously, you cross your legs and give them a quick glance at your little fur-burger. It has to be slow, with your leg raised fairly high, but you can't seem too overly coquettish."
"Fur-burger?" Mona asked, puzzled.
"Sorry," Reid said. "I mean your pussy. Fur-burger's just a synonym for the same thing-you know, for the oral connoisseurs."
"Oh," Mona said. "Yes, of course. The cunt lappers."
"Precisely," Reid said. "Now shall we try it again?"
Mona did not remove her blouse during this rehearsal-that would come later-but she slowly crossed her legs. Even from a standing position they would be able to see her delicious little snatch, Reid concluded. "Excellent," he said. "Perfect. Do it just like that. Make sure Forbes gets a nice view. He's the one who actually makes the decisions. Corey's just a figurehead and goes along with whatever Forbes says, so you want to make sure he gets a good look at that nice little twat. Make him drool."
Reid went over to a picture of a huge sailing ship on the wall and tampered with the lower right hand corner. He tapped the spot, then seemingly satisfied, he returned to his desk and sat down and glanced at his watch again.
"What were you doing?" Mona asked.
"Just checking the peephole," he said. "I guess I didn't tell you. All the offices here at Luben's have them. Sometimes they're very valuable. While clients wait they often drop very useful information... What's on their minds that they won't openly tell you... How much they intend to spend on a campaign... If and what type of competition you're faced with. Yes, they're very useful. In fact, Mona, after I've made the presentation and you've dazzled them with your charms, I'm going to try and get Corey out of the office-take him on a tour of the place or something-so you and Forbes can be alone. I-I don't want you to do anything, of course, but-well, maybe he'll ask you out to dinner or something. I'm not suggesting that you prostitute yourself. I'm simply saying that you be nice to him. After the contract is signed, you can tell him to go screw himself. But for now-"
"Reid," Mona interrupted, her eyes narrow and a faint smile on her lovely mouth, "I told you. I'll do anything to insure your success with Wonder-Lift. And I meant it. Leave everything to me, will you? I'm a big girl now, remember?"
Reid sighed, mixed emotions warring within him. "Okay," he said. "I just hope you don't have to go too far."
Mona simply stared at him, amused. Finally, she said, "Are you going to be looking through the peep hole in the painting?"
"Yes, if I can stash Corey with Guthrie in the art department, I'll look in to see how things are going-so I'll know the best time to return."
Mona again smiled. It was a very mature, adult smile. "As you said, Reid, I hope I don't have to go too far. But the important thing right now is results, right? If I should have to-shall we say-go farther than anticipated, please don't be alarmed, darling. Remember, I'm a big girl and whatever I do is for you."
Reid stared at her, wondering just what she had on her mind. He was still wondering when the buzzer sounded on his intercom. He picked up the receiver and pushed down the lighted button. "Reid Hartley here," he said.
"A Mr. Forbes and a Mr. Corey to see you, sir," Myra's satin, purring voice announced.
"Please send them right up," Reid said.
It seemed an eternity before the two prosperous, well-dressed men appeared in the open doorway. Forbes had snow-white hair and was in his early fifties-tan, athletic-looking, the tennis type. Corey was short, plump, and nearly totally bald. They made quite a contrast-a kind of Mutt and Jeff team with Corey the "yes man" and Forbes the decision maker. Reid stood up and came around his desk smiling. "Gentlemen," he said. "Good to see you. Please sit down."
They each sat in leather chairs which Reid had arranged so that they view the pedestal chart on which he had drawn the visual part of his presentation as well as obtain a splendid view of Mona on the couch.
"Oh, excuse me, gentlemen," Reid said. "This is my personal secretary, Mona Seagram."
Mona smiled, nodding. Corey stood up to acknowledge the introduction. Forbes remained seated.
"Before we proceed further," Forbes said rather gruffly, "I feel it is only fair to tell you that we viewed a presentation by a rival advertising firm just yesterday. Frankly, we were impressed. They had even gone so far as to show films which would resemble the actual television commercial. I think you'll admit that's going considerably out of their way to please Wonder-Lift, at least in a preliminary meeting such as this."
"Yes, considerably out of their way," Corey echoed, nodding.
"A film, eh?" Reid said, rising and walking to the pedestal chart. "Yes, that is going a bit far at this early stage. Well, I hope you'll extend Luben's the same courtesy I'm sure you extended our competitor while I illustrate what we have in mind to sell Wonder-Lift as it's never been sold before."
Reid went into his routine-skillful patter as he turned the large sheets to drive home his points visually. He worked smoothly and professionally, as always, but he couldn't get out of his mind the fact that Wonder-Lift had gone to another agency first. The bastards must have contacted the other agency a long time ago, he thought. They had to, since the other agency had time to put together a film. Competing with a fucking film was no easy task, he knew, and he would have to sell as he had never sold before to win the Wonder-Lift account. Thank God for Mona. She might-just might-make the difference. He was nearing the crucial moment now.
"... and so gentlemen, there you have it. Our surveys clearly show that more and more women under age twenty-five are going braless... this is the Age of Youth... older women who naturally wish to emulate youth must turn to Wonder-Lift for that natural, braless look... and if those women under twenty-five can be convinced that the natural beauty and firmness of their breasts can be preserved by wearing Wonder-Lift and only Wonder-Lift, we've won the battle. That, of course, has been the traditional motivation for the purchase of the brassiere... I think you'll agree that the television commercial I've outlined is dramatic and unique. I've given a great deal of thought to this, gentlemen, and I'm convinced that this approach will rocket the sale of Wonder-Lift brassieres to an all-time high. Naturally, you have to make the decision as to whether Wonder-Lift is ready to move in a different direction from its unimaginative competition. I welcome your reaction to this carefully thought out campaign, gentlemen, and I'd sincerely welcome your reactions, comments, suggestions. Perhaps I've overlooked something."
Corey looked at Forbes and Forbes said, "Well, it is different. My only reservation is whether or not it's too "unique," as you put it. Mr. Hartley, the brassiere must still be marketed conservatively. Unfortunate, perhaps, but that's the fact of the matter. We do not turn to humor, for instance, in selling our product-I see that you were wise enough to omit that from your proposed campaign-and I'm not altogether certain that close-ups of jiggling, bra-less breasts in the marketing of brassieres is the best approach, at least at present. Neither am I convinced that the so-called 'braless look' should be held up as a thing to imitate or, for that matter, to be mentioned at all." Forbes paused, frowning. "I just don't know," he said. "The other agency took quite a different approach."
"I'm not too sure about it, either," Corey said.
"Oh, shut up," Forbes said. "You're not too sure about anything-ever!"
"Am I correct in assuming then," Reid said, "that we're either altogether right or altogether wrong? The other agency you refer to then has proposed a campaign that is traditional, safe, and pretty much like brassiere commercials that have been around for years?"
"I think that's a fair assumption," Forbes said directly. "Yes."
"I see," Reid said, dropping his arms to his sides for dramatic effect. There was a hint of discouragement mingled with disbelief on his furrowed brow. "Gentlemen," he said after long silence, "I suppose I must submit to your judgment. In the past, you have displayed wisdom again and again in selling Wonder-Lift. But I must say that in the past I have also displayed intuition and a keen knowledge that has sold products in a quantity beyond the manufacturers' wildest dreams! This is my business and I would stake my life on the success of the campaign I have just outlined for you! I am aware of the reasoning behind your reticence to accept this dynamic, new concept. I am aware that you fear criticism from certain areas-that the bulk of the brassiere buyers do not live in the more sophisticated areas of New York, Beverly Hills, etcetera. But this is a new era. People aren't thinking the way they used to think, even in the Midwest and the South. The breast is no longer the semi-taboo subject it once was. Let me make a point. Mona?"
Mona, as planned, seemed surprised to be included in the presentation. Hopefully, she would not have been-if Reid had been able to sell the campaign on its own merits. Now she seemed to be his only hope.
"Yes, Mr. Hartley?" she asked.
"I wonder if you'd assist me in making a dramatic point for these gentlemen."
"Certainly, Mr. Hartley. I'd be happy to."
"Good. Gentlemen, would you look at Mona there on the couch and tell me if she's wearing a brassiere?"
Mona's breasts, as always, stood out firm and true. She was not wearing a tight tee-shirt which would have made the fact that she wore no bra obvious. Instead, she wore a multi-colored blouse that buttoned down the front with ruffles on either side of the buttons.
"I-I really couldn't say," Forbes said. "Perhaps if she walked around a bit."
"Can't tell," Corey said. "Unless she walks around."
"Shut up!" Forbes said.
When both men once again returned their attention to luscious Mona, Mona slowly crossed her legs. Her furry little pussy, the vertical line of pink, beckoning lips, was tantalizingly visible for a moment. Both Forbes and Corey swallowed hard. So the competition showed films, Reid thought. Screw 'em. Show a man cunt and he forgets every film he's ever seen!
"Now Mona, would you remove your blouse for the gentlemen? You don't mind, do you?"
"Oh, no, Mr. Hartley. There's nothing wrong with bare breasts or brassieres. That kind of old-fashioned thinking went out ages ago!" Mona slowly unbuttoned the front of her blouse, slipped out of it and sat displaying her firm, delicious tits for Forbes' and Corey's inspection. Both men's mouths hung open, their eyes glued to Mona's perfectly proportioned boobs. Forbes actually began salivating.
"Gentlemen, would you say that Miss Seagram's breasts are fairly representative of breasts throughout America today?"
"Uh-yes," Forbes said, wetting his lips. "Certainly. Umm-hmm. Very nice, indeed-I mean, yes, they're representative."
"Representative breasts," Corey said. "Yep."
"Mona, would you walk around for the gentlemen, please?" Mona slowly uncrossed her legs, again giving Forbes and Corey a splendid glimpse of her cunt. Then she paraded back and forth, like Miss America, only with her tits bare and bouncing.
"Notice how they jiggle and bob up and down, gentlemen?"
There was no answer-just heavy breathing.
Reid restrained his laughter. "Here, then, is a girl not wearing a bra. Here is a girl who attracts men because of her attractive bust line. Can you honestly say that older women whose breasts are not so firm and high would not envy such a fetching pair of breasts?"
"Yes, yes," Forbes said, drooling. "Older women would envy her breasts. Sure they would. Umm-hmm. Plenty of envy. Sure."
Forbes prick stood stiff and straight inside his pants, Reid noticed. Corey sat with his hands in his lap and a pained look on his round face.
"Now, Mona, would you please put on your Wonder-Lift bra?"
Mona sat down, crossing her legs and showing her cunt again; then she removed the brassiere from the sack beside her and, legs wide apart, reached behind and clasped the bra. It was one of the newer, more daring models which closely approximated the braless look. Forbes was visibly trembling as he stared at Mona's pussy.
"Now, if you'll just walk around a little more for these gentlemen and let them compare the bouncing of your breasts wearing a Wonder-Lift bra with the previous bounce while not wearing a Wonder-Lift bra."
Again, Mona paraded before Forbes and Corey, smiling and stopping and turning like a professional model as she went. "It's almost like wearing no bra at all," she cooed. "It's so comfy and nice and it doesn't irritate my nipples a bit." She grasped both of her breasts in her hands and jiggled them. "See?" she said. "They bounce just like before. Under a blouse, nobody could tell the difference, I bet."
Forbes emitted an involuntary moan and leaned forward for a still closer view. "Just the same," he intoned. "They... bounce... just... just the same... yes they do--"
"Same bounce," Corey agreed.
"Thank you, Mona. So you see, gentlemen, women-old or young, with or without the assets Miss Seagram possesses-can have that natural look that we've agreed is desirable and attractive in a woman of any age, providing she wears a Wonder-Lift bra."
Forbes looked at Reid with new eyes. "Yes, yes, I think I'm beginning to see your point, Mr. Hartley. Very dramatically presented, too, I must say. The only thing is-"
Reid knew that the time was right for closing the deal. Forbes was almost won over, but Reid didn't want any more objections. In order to be absolutely certain, he would have to rely on Mona. Quickly, he reached for Corey's arm and lifted him from the chair.
"Gentlemen, I'd like to take you one at a time to our art department and show you some of the preliminary sketches our director has made for newspaper and magazine ads. I think you'll be impressed. Mr. Corey, please come with me." Corey stood up and they went to the door. Reid paused there. Forbes still stared lustfully at Mona in her Wonder-Lift bra. Also, her legs were slightly apart which increased his interest.
"I suggest you study the freedom your own product provides a young lady, Mr. Forbes, and I think you'll agree that the braless aspect of the proposed campaign has considerable merit Mr. Forbes?"
"Yes, that's an excellent idea. You go ahead and look over the newspaper and magazine ads while I-uh-study the braless idea on this young lady. Strange, we designed this bra for that purpose but I seem entirely to have forgotten the point. Yes, this is an eye-opener all right. You go on ahead, Corey. Take your time... yes-"
Reid winked at Mona, then led Corey down the hall to the art department. There, he turned the "yes man" over to Jules Guthrie, excused himself and went to the small room adjoining his office where he could look through the peep hole. Already Forbes was sitting on the couch next to Mona, asking her questions about the bra and how it felt. He reached out and tugged at the elastic straps. "No discomfort, eh?" he asked.
"None at all, Mr. Forbes," Mona replied naively. "Yes, if I were going to wear a bra it would be a Wonder-Lift. Yes sir. Here, put your hand inside the cup and feel how little pressure there is against my--my nipples." She paused. "Oh, I'm sorry. I probably shouldn't be so-so outspoken and everything. It's just that I keep forgetting people are all hung up about girls' breasts, and I'm so excited about these Wonder-Lift brassieres!"
"That's all right, dear," Forbes panted. "Perfectly okay. This is research." He dipped his hand into the bra and cupped her breast. "Research... research," he muttered. "Yes, I see what you mean. Very little pressure there. Uh-take the bra off again, will you? I want to make sure this bra is typical and-and that you're-you're not built differently or anything."
Mona took the bra off and Forbes bent so that his face was not more than an inch away from her right nipple. His prick stood up very straight now and there was a wet spot where its head pressed against his fly.
"Now that we're all alone," Mona said, "this seems different. It's as though I were with my boyfriend or something. You know? I feel all slippery and excited because you're looking at my titties this way. I know this is supposed to be strictly business, but-" She broke off suddenly and crushed Forbes head to her nipple. His response was something to see. His cock jumped inside his pants and he grabbed both of Mona's tits and began fondling and massaging as his mouth sucked hard at her nipples. It was as though he'd suddenly gone insane with desire.
"They-they won't be back for quite a while, Mr. Forbes. Would you mind if I locked the door?" Without waiting for an answer, she went over and pressed the lock button, then returned and lay back on the couch.
Now Forbes was all over her, kneeling on the floor and lapping madly at Mona's twin ivory mounds. "Mr. Forbes?" Mona said.
"Call me Lester," he gasped.
"Okay. Lester, there's another place that doesn't have anything to do with Wonder-Lift, but-but it's getting awfully wet and it-it wants you to rub it, too. My pussy is all wet, Lester. It wants you... it wants you, Lester."
Lester Forbes seemed about to go into a convulsion now as he slowly lowered his hand to Mona's knees, parted her smooth legs and then inched his hand up to her waiting, juicy slit. He sucked on Mona's boobies and began finger-fucking her as his mouth worked. "A little higher, Lester-on my tingle button. Yes... oh, that's it... ummm."
Mona reached down and unzipped Forbes' fly now and let his throbbing meat monster burst free. "You have such a nice big thing, Mr. Forbes-I mean, Lester-and it's all wet and ready to do something to me, isn't it?"
Suddenly, Forbes raised Mona's miniskirt, stared enraptured at her parted legs and her tight little twat, and dived for the furry target. He grunted and groaned loudly as he draped her legs over his shoulders and began lapping greedily at her cunt. Once a long time ago, Reid had seen a bear devouring a honey comb in the forest. But that bear was nothing compared to Forbes munching and gorging himself on Mona's delicious crotch. Forbes had one paw on top of her pubic mound and the other under her pumping ass, holding on as though he were afraid that tasty tight snatch might somehow get away from his hungry lips. He snorted, he snarled, he lapped and laved at Mona's cunt and rectum. Reid wondered if he intended to eat her alive! Finally, though, his face dripping wet, he climbed up on top of Mona, whose legs were spread wide invitingly and started to mount her.
Mona stopped him then. "I-I'm so excited Lester," she said, "but I-I feel disloyal to my boss. This is supposed to be business. I'm supposed to help him and-well, if you don't give him the job of selling Wonder-Lift for you I'll-I'll just feel terrible." Slyly, Mona feigned crying and began closing her legs.
"Don't worry... spread 'em apart... oh, spread your legs apart... I promise... Luben's will handle our account... promise."
"Oh, Lester!" she cried gratefully. "Are you sure? You wouldn't lie to a girl, would you?"
Mona spread her legs so that Forbes could mount her. Still grunting like a bear, he shoved his remarkably firm erection (he was no youngster) without delay into Mona's waiting cunt. Watching, again Reid felt mixed emotions. With difficulty, he had to remind himself that Mona was doing this for him, that probably she wasn't even enjoying herself. But if she weren't enjoying herself, she certainly was a remarkable actress! Academy Award material!
As he watched and listened to her murmuring in Forbes' ear as the executive's ass pumped hard, bouncing his cock in and out of her honey nest, he kept telling himself that her motive was to make him come quick and get the distasteful scene over with, but he found himself wanting to run into the room and pull the bastard off his woman.
"Fuck me, Lester. Oh, you fuck so beautifully, Lester. Umm, umm, umm. Stick your hard prick way up in my pussy. Oh, that feels so good, Lester... ummmmmm."
Goddam it, Reid thought. She didn't have to go that far! Hurry up and come and sign our contract, you dirty sonofabitch!
Forbes was propped upon both elbows now while his cock continued to plunge mercilessly into Mona's tight twat. Watching, Reid clenched and unclenched his fists, knowing full well the tightness and heat of the pussy that Forbes now fucked. Jealousy surged through him, consumed him, as Mona continued muttering love phrases and making fuck talk in Forbes' ear. When she began thrusting, reciprocating by raising her buttocks high off the couch to meet the man's butt thrusts, Reid nearly crashed his fist into the wall.
As he fucked, Forbes took Mona's shiny black hair in both hands, as though holding her prisoner, and stared directly into her face intently. It was as though he wanted to remain constantly aware that he was fucking an eighteen-year-old and that, by staring at her youthful, now contorted features, this awareness increased in intensity and excited his somewhat aged prick to its maximum performance.
Mona was tossing her head from side to side now, running her tongue over the lips of her parted mouth as though in a coma or a fever. Good God! Reid thought, was she enjoying getting fucked by this lecherous son of a bitch? She certainly acted like it! Christ, even whores didn't put on this kind of performance! Now she was even rotating her ass-the way she did when she fucked with him!
"Lester... Lester... fuck my little pussy hard... harder... harder... make me come, Lester."
Reid struck the wall with all his might, fortunately not seriously hurting his fist. The loud thump distracted Forbes briefly. He stopped thrusting and looked back over his shoulder, like a cowboy with his pants down on horseback. "What-what the hell was that?" he asked.
Since the sound had come from the painting, where the peep hole was, Mona guessed that Reid had made the noise. "It's-it's nothing, Lester. Probably just the janitor cleaning or something. Come on, baby, let your beautiful cock stick and make me come, please?"
Once again, Lester Forbes' ass began its bouncing movement as he fucked the eager young cunt beneath him... at least he thought it was eager. And then he did an unexpected thing. He withdrew his thick, glistening-wet prick and stood up. "Turn over," he commanded. "Get down on your knees on the floor with your elbows up on the couch."
Mona seemed perplexed. "But-but Lester... don't you want to fuck me anymore? I was just about to come... don't you want to fuck and make me come?"
"Do as I tell you!" he commanded.
The dirty bastard thinks he's over at Wonder-Lift giving orders to one of his underlings, Reid thought, restraining himself from hitting the wall or creating another disturbance.
"But why?" Mona asked. "Don't you like to fuck me while I'm on my back?"
"Yes, of course, but do as I tell you. Now!"
Mona complied. "All right, Lester, honey. Whatever you say, my sugar with the golden prick."
When Mona was in position, Forbes held his stiff meat in his hand and got down on his knees behind her. "I'm going to fuck you in the ass, Mona. Just relax while I ease it in. Relax and it'll be okay."
Forbes parted the cheeks of Mona's firm butt and gazed at her puckered anus for a moment. Then, wearing the lustiest look Reid had ever seen on any human's face, he poked the big purple head of his meat wedge at Mona's rear entrance.
"Oow, oow... ouch," Mona squealed. "Not so hard, Lester. It's so big to go in that little hole... easy... easy... please, Lester... put it in slow, huh?"
"Just relax, baby. Don't worry. It'll all be inside in just a minute. There... now the head's in I'll sink the rest in just a little at a time. Just relax!"
Forbes was moving very fast, Reid thought, at least for an anal entrance. Mona's face was contorted in a slight look of pain, Reid noticed, and she was no neophyte to ass-fucking. After all, her own father had indoctrinated her to the art years ago. It had been one of his specialties. Forbes' prick was in Mona's ass all the way now, Reid could tell, and the executive gazed down at his own entrance and exit as he fucked this eighteen-year-old's rectum. Mona knew her role well. Although Reid told himself her artfulness was merely a weapon to hasten Forbes' orgasm, he felt heartbroken as she reached back and began fondling the old gent's dangling balls. His view of Mona's hand, tickling and gently manipulating Forbes' flesh sack, was perfect and it nearly made him ill. Was nothing sacred? Did Mona have to do all the things with this stranger that they-presumably lovers-had shared together? Jesus! Now she was even holding his cock at the base and guiding it in and out of her ass with her hand!
"Oh, that is nice, Lester," Mona cooed. "I-I didn't think I could take all of your big thing in there, but it-it's really nice. I-I never had a man's thing in my-my rear before."
Well, at least she was lying, Reid thought, trying to calm himself. Apparently she was just attempting to make Forbes come and was using every female trick she knew to accomplish this.
"Ummm... fuck my asshole, Lester," she begged. "You're making me come this way. It's-it's amazing. I'm really going to come this way... I can tell... Oh, Lester!"
Her prompting was getting to Forbes. The elderly man's breath came in great gasps now and his grunting took on a more urgent and desperate pitch. In a moment-at least-his eyes bulged and his hands clamped more firmly on Mona's hips. He began rocking her butt from side to side and slamming his cock harder, harder, harder still, and crying out, "I'm almost there. I'm-I'm coming nowwww."
"Me, too, Lester," Mona called out, and Reid knew she was faking it. Forbes hadn't even fingered her clit while diddling her bottom. Maybe some girls could come that way, without other manipulation, but he knew that Mona couldn't. She had told him so.
Forbes lay collapsed on top of Mona's back, panting, his chest heaving as if he might be having a heart attack. Then, very deliberately, Mona looked over at the painting on the wall and winked! Reid had to smile. Yes, she was still his baby. She was telling him that her sexual encounter with Forbes had all been a hoax. She had done this for him to win the Wonder-Lift account. Reid felt slightly better at this reassurance.
For just an instant, Reid was tempted to go charging in his office, catch Forbes in the act and use his knowledge of the sexual encounter as a form of blackmail to insure his getting the Wonder-Lift account. He decided against it, though. Mona had pretty much wrapped the contract up and there was no need to play the game any dirtier than he had already played it.
Forbes took his pants and went into the small, private John. By the time he returned, Mona had straightened herself up and the two of them sat, looking as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, on the couch and rested in silence. Finally, Forbes said, "I-I hope I wasn't too repulsive. I-well, I suppose I simply went out of my head for a while there." He patted her knee. "Thank you, my dear. Needless to say, our little affair shall remain a secret, correct?"
"Oh, absolutely, Mr. Forbes," Mona assured him. "You-you assured me that I was not being disloyal to my boss and that Luben's would handle the Wonder-Lift campaign. You're an honorable man and I'm an honorable girl. You gave your word about the campaign and I gave you my word about secrecy. If we both keep our word, then there's nothing to worry about, is there?"
Forbes squirmed a bit uneasily, as though he had forgotten all about his promise-as though he vaguely sensed that he was being blackmailed. But then he looked at Mona-sweet and innocent and lovely Mona-and his suspicions seemed to vanish. He smiled. "Yes, my dear, I did give you my word and I intend to stand by it." Again, he patted her knee. "I must say, you are most loyal to your boss. Admirable. Yes, very admirable." He glanced at his wristwatch. "Hmm. I wonder where the devil that idiot Corey is. What's keeping them?" He drummed his fingers on the chair of the couch.
"I guess we should be grateful they didn't come back too soon," Mona said.
Forbes nodded. "Yes, you have a point there, my dear. You know, I don't see any reason why you shouldn't be the girl in the television commercial for Wonder-Lift, Mona." He snapped his fingers. "Certainly. You did a splendid job of modeling here today. You have a lovely face and body and, certainly, your breasts would drive home the Wonder-Lift story vividly. I think that's an excellent idea. What do you say?"
Mona seemed elated. "Oh, that would be marvelous!" she said. "Of course that will be up to a lot of people to decide, won't it? I mean, I have to be photogenic and all."
"Of course," Forbes said, "but barring all that, I'm convinced you're the girl for Wonder-Lift. By jove, I'll talk to Hartley about this. If he's willing and you can bring it off, you may have a whole new career before, you, dear."
Mona blinked shyly, appreciatively. "Oh, thank you, Mr. Forbes. That would be wonderful."
Reid, still behind the wall peering through the peep hole, shook his head in admiration for Mona Seagram. She had handled Forbes as well as any skilled espionage agent, twice her age, could have done. He closed the peep hole and went back to the art department to fetch Corey.
When they entered the office again, Corey began praising the sketches he had seen. Forbes told him to shut up and sit down. Then, he informed Reid of his plan to use Mona as the Wonder-Lift girl in the television commercial.
Reid feigned surprise. "Great!" he said. "Don't know why I didn't think of that myself," he said. "I can see why Wonder-Lift has managed to dominate the market these past years. Creative management is the reason! Yes, sir. I can't understand why I didn't think of that idea myself." Reid reached over and got the contract from his desk and held it out for Forbes to sign. "If you'll just approve this campaign and the terms we discussed before, we'll get this thing going."
Forbes held himself very erect, obviously flattered that Reid Hartley considered his idea to use Mona a good one. "Yes, 'creative management' has always been our slogan at Wonder-Lift," he boasted as he scrawled his signature on the contract. When he stood up, Corey stood up, too. "Don't you want to look at the newspaper and magazine campaigns?" Corey asked.
"I don't think that will be necessary," Forbes said. "I think Luben's knows what it's doing." He extended his hand and Reid shook it; then he shook Corey's.
"I look forward to this new approach you've come up with, Mr. Hartley," Forbes said. "Sorry to have given you such a rough time there, but I wanted to be absolutely certain your approach was right for Wonder-Lift." He took Mona's hand in both of his and gazed into her deep blue eyes. "Now I am completely convinced. Full speed ahead!"
"Full speed ahead!" Corey repeated.
"Good day," Forbes said, and both men exited, Corey following his master like an obedient pup.
When they had gone, Reid embraced Mona and whirled her around the room. He was deliriously happy, overjoyed with their success. "Mona, baby," he said, "you were marvelous! I got a little jealous there for a while, but, God, you were sensational. You did it! Without you I'd be out on my ass and the Wonder-Lift account would be someone else's. We're going to let the boss know and then take the afternoon off again. Come on, sugar. Champagne time!"
"I'm not sure I can even walk," Mona said, wincing. "I-I didn't expect him to flop me over and stick his thing up my you-know-what. Also, he wasn't exactly gentle when he did it."
Reid held Mona close. "I'll make it up to you, Mona. I mean it. I'm sorry you had to go to such lengths, but I swear I'll make it up to you, okay?"
Mona was amazing. She reached down, grabbed hold of his limp dick that hung far down his trouser leg and petted it. "I told you-you don't have to do anything for me, darling. I want to do anything I can to help you because you're the most scrumptious, beautiful lover I ever met." She kissed him long and full on the lips.
"Come on," Reid said. "Let's deliver this contract to Arthur and get the hell out of here before you get me all excited. Besides, I think you need a slight rest. We'll find a nice soft booth in a nice restaurant for you to sit on."
Mona reached back and held her buttocks again. "Yes, that would be nice," she said.
Chapter Seven
Naturally, everybody at the Luben Ad Agency was delighted to learn that the Wonder-Lift bra account would be in the capable hands of Reid Hartley. Phrases such as: "He's a genius" and "I wonder how he does it?" once again were voiced throughout the building. Every account was important to the agency because it made everybody's job-from the president to the janitor-just that much more secure. In effect, Reid was a hero until he lost an account.
The final working out of details on the Wonder-Lift account was weeks away. Now, the immediate problem looming before Reid was the Gibbons toothpaste campaign. In fact, this afternoon at 3:30 he was to make the presentation. He was not fearful-at least not as fearful as he'd been regarding the Wonder-Lift thing-but he was somewhat apprehensive. Try as he might, he could not come up with anything really new. He would rely on Mona's assistance and present the strongest aspects of the ad campaigns now being waged by Gibbons' three leading competitors. Sex appeal was certainly nothing new in the marketing of toothpaste, but he intended to carry the sex angle as far as Gibbons was concerned to the absolute limit-farther than it had ever been carried in the history of toothpaste advertising. This, then, plus Mona, was all he had going for him. He hoped it would be sufficient.
It was late in the morning when, with the art director's assistance, Reid completed the sketches for his presentation on his pedestal chart in his office. He went through his pitch one more time with Mona for an audience and when he had finished she said, "I think it's pretty good. As you say, there's nothing really world-shaking or new about it, but it makes sense and the sex angle should sell the stuff." She made a face. "Ugh, I think it's the worst-tasting stuff on the market. It gags me." She went over then and put her arms around Reid's neck. "Ummm, my sugar, sweet, honey man. You were magnificent last night. I hope I have something left to offer Richard Gibbons."
He held her close, felt her breasts squashing against him and her little hip thrusts at his penis. He felt a little out of it, in a kind of semi-daze, as he always felt just before an important presentation. "I hope it won't be necessary for you to-to offer your body to Richard," he said. "It's a comfort knowing you're here if I need you, but dammit I should be able to sell the bastard on the square."
"I hope so, too, love, but if you need me you know I'm willing and ready."
"Yeah, I know," Reid said. "I wish you weren't such a convincing actress, though. Do you suppose you could take it a little easy this time-I mean, if your services are necessary?"
"I'll try," Mona said. "But I figure if I'm going to make love to win an account I might as well make absolutely sure. That's why I guess I seem so convincing."
Reid ran his hand over his face. His fingers trembled slightly. "Yes, I guess you have a point," he said.
"So do you," Mona said, grinding her pelvis at his harder. "And I can feel it getting bigger."
He slapped her on the buttocks lightly. "You could go to the old folks' home and make all the senile guys get erections, my dear."
Just then, the buzzer sounded on the intercom. Reid picked up the receiver and said, "Yes, Arthur. All right. I'll be right there." He hung up, then said to Mona, "Arthur Luben wants to see me in his office. I wonder what the fuck he wants. Why doesn't he leave me alone! See you in a little while. Would you type that letter to the Ludlow Tire Company?"
"Sure," Mona said. "Right away, sir."
"Don't be a wise-ass," Reid kidded, "and take your time. Don't get one of those braless tits of yours caught in the typewriter carriage. Right now, you're the agency's biggest asset. Catch one of those beautiful boobs in the typewriter and the whole agency will go down the tubes."
"I'll try to be careful, sir," Mona said, grinning.
In Arthur Luben's office, Reid sat down and Arthur got directly to the point. "You did a great job with the Wonder-Lift people," Arthur said, "and I have every confidence that you'll do the same with Gibbons this afternoon." Arthur paused. He had the most annoying habit of pushing his nose to one side of his face with his forefinger. He did so now-just sat there with his nose off to the left and not saying anything.
"What's on your mind then?" Reid asked finally.
"Well, there's no problem actually, but I just want you to realize that while keeping existing accounts is essential, there is still the matter of acquiring new ones."
"Arthur," Reid said, with exaggerated patience, "I've been in this business all my life practically. Yes, I'm aware that new accounts are important, for chrissake. I'm a big boy. You got a potential new account coming in. Is that it?"
"As a matter of fact, we do. You're amazing, Reid. You read my mind. I want you to know that Luben's appreciates you."
Reid laughed cynically. "All right, Arthur, let me read your mind a little farther. You've got a new account on your mind and you want me to handle it, correct? I'm up to my ass in major accounts, while Len Woodward is only up to his ankles in Mickey Mouse ones. Why don't you let Len handle it? Why don't you let this guy who makes as much money as I do handle something important?"
Arthur Luben now transferred his forefinger to the opposite side and pushed his nose toward his right cheek. "I understand how you feel, Reid, but Len-well, let's say I have more confidence in Reid Hartley than Len Woodward."
"Then may I suggest that you pay Reid Hartley more money than you pay Len Woodward. Confidence doesn't help pay the hospital bill when they check you in for ulcers, does it?"
"You're quite right, Reid. And again, you anticipated precisely what was on my mind. I'm not only talking about more money, Reid. I'm talking about a full partnership in the firm."
"So it's big, huh? Who is it?"
Arthur now tugged at his earlobe. That was unusual because he was strictly a nose man. Yes, Reid thought, it must be big.
"That's one of the problems. They don't know what to call it yet."
"Arthur, may I suggest that you tell me just what the fuck you're talking about? Is it baby buggies, TV sets, sanitary napkins, flea powder, horse manure, what?"
"It's wine," Arthur said. "They make the stuff in northern California-Modesto to be exact-but they want to come out with a popular product. They want to make a wine drink that's just as popular as root beer."
"That's a problem when you limit your market to people over twenty-one only, isn't it? Who are these people?"
"Milo Vineyards," Arthur said.
Reid whistled. "Yes, that is big," he said.
"Bigger than you'd guess. If we can do a job for them with this new product, we could very well take over all their advertising. They're the biggest wine sellers in the business, and they've got lots of money. We need a name for the stuff and a campaign that will not only sell them on us, but will actually sell the stuff to the people. In other words, no bullshit. The people have to go and ask for the stuff. People have to stay smashed day and night on the crap-whatever we call it. We want everybody from winos on skid row to the country club set asking for this wine."
"Oh, that's dandy," Reid said. "Mass appeal and acceptance with a touch of sophistication. Maybe you'd like mothers to nurse their children with the stuff, too-wives to fill their husbands' thermos bottles with the stuff for lunch buckets."
"Exactly. You're getting the idea," Arthur said, pushing at his nose.
"Wonderful," Reid said. "We'll call it Poon-Tang. Sure, why not? Then guys will try to stick their cocks in the end of the bottle. No, better yet, we'll package this wine in an extra wide-mouthed bottle and provide a lubricant so they can fuck the bottles easier. Hurrah for Poon-Tang! You don't even have to bring the bottles back. Keep 'em and screw 'em. And for you gals, they're just the right size for insertion in the vagina on those lonely nights. Hurry! Hurry! Buy Poon-Tang!"
Suddenly, Reid stopped. His brain began clicking, working the way it used to work. Possibilities, variations on variations flashed computerlike in his mind. "That's it!" he said. Not Poon-Tang... HIGH-TANG. And there's nothing wrong with the wife filling the thermos for her her husband. In fact, it's good!" Visual shots and situations streamed through his mind's eye. "Yes, the thermos... young people guzzling at the beach... little old ladies sneaking-actually sneaking a snort from their pantries... people sipping stuff at bridge parties... golfers... all good. Yes, yes, I think we can do it."
Arthur Luben, who was famous for his imaginative powers, sat dumbstruck. "By God, Reid, you've got it! Beautiful! Just beautiful! HIGH-TANG! I love it! I wanna buy a case right now!"
Arthur had both hands on his nose now. "Jesus, don't mention this to anybody, Reid-not the name, not anything. Let's get this Gibbons thing out of the way and get going on HIGH-TANG! You are a fucking genius, Reid. I've-I've just witnessed the birth of a brilliant campaign-right here in my office." Arthur Luben whacked his leg and jumped up and began pacing excitedly back and forth. "HIGH-TANG! HIGH-TANG!" he kept repeating, as though the words were magic. "I don't want any leaks on this, Reid. I don't even want the Art Department working on anything until the last minute. This has to be the best kept secret in the history of Luben's!"
Reid said, "You mean Luben and Hartley, don't you?"
Arthur Luben stopped in his tracks. "Yes-uh-yes, of course. Luben and Hartley. Just like I said, Reid."
"Fine. If you don't mind, will you please have the papers drawn up so that the partnership will go into effect as soon as Milo Vineyards accepts the campaign?"
"Right away," Arthur said. "This is going to make us a fortune, Reid. I can feel it. I may not be creative, but I am a business man. I know this is going to be the biggest thing that ever happened to Luben's."
"Luben and Hartley," Reid said.
"Yeah, Luben and Hartley," Arthur said.
"I have a lot more ideas, too," Reid said, "but I'll wait until we sign those papers, if that's all right with you."
"Sure, whatever you say, Reid. I'll have the agreement drawn up right away.
"You don't have to rush," Reid said. "Day after tomorrow's okay. After we've signed the agreement I'll get to work on HIGH-TANG-not before. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to lunch and then make the Gibbons presentation. See you later, partner."
They shook hands. "Okay, partner," Arthur said. "Good luck with Gibbons."
"I've got it locked in," Reid said arrogantly. "After all, it's all in the interest of Luben and Hartley, right?"
Then he left.
Reid and Mona were sitting in Frascati's restaurant on Wilshire, he sipping a dry martini and Mona a Coke as they waited for their lunch to arrive, when Cecil Seagram came up to the table and said, "Hello, my dear," to his daughter and then, "Good to see you, Reid."
Reid stood up and shook hands with Cecil. "Won't you join us? We're just about to have lunch."
"Thank you, I think I will," Cecil said, sitting down. "My, how well you look," he said to his daughter. "You look wonderful. I'm very happy."
It was true that Mona looked better than she'd ever looked, and Reid could tell that her father was extremely pleased. He had already finished lunch and said that he would just stay a few minutes and chat.
"Thank you, Daddy," Mona said. "I'm sorry I haven't called or visited you, but I've been so busy. I'm working at, of all things, an advertising agency! I'm working for Reid as his secretary at Luben's and having a wonderful time." She reached over and gave her father an affectionate peck on the cheek.
"Well, whatever you're doing, I hope you keep doing it," Cecil said. "You look simply marvelous. You look like my little girl again." He hugged her.
The phrase "little girl" reminded Reid of the sexual relationship between this man and his daughter and, for a moment, he visualized this distinguished man lapping at his daughter's vagina, stuffing his erection into her anus, ad infinitum. It was nearly impossible to imagine. It seemed incredible. Still, he knew it was true, and he found himself mentally calling this acknowledged superman of the advertising world the most hypocritical of hypocrites.
"You know," Cecil said, "now that you're learning the ad game you might just wind up as president of the Seagram Agency one day. I'm serious. I'll be retiring soon, you know, and I can't imagine a more pleasant happening."
Reid yearned to tell Cecil that very soon he, too, would become a full partner in the firm of Luben and Hartley, but he restrained himself. Once that was out, he would have to explain why and that would of necessity involve mentioning HIGH-TANG, which was taboo. "So what brings you over this way?" Reid asked.
"Oh, I stopped by the office this morning to make sure things were running smoothly." He forced a smile. He would remain vague, Reid knew. Cecil Seagram was not one to divulge anything important where business was concerned. "Yes, there are a few big things coming up and I just wanted to be certain they're handled properly."
Reid knew he shouldn't do it, but he couldn't resist. "Would you like a glass of wine?" he asked. "Everybody seems to be drinking wine these days."
Seagram's reaction was immediate and unmistakable. Yes, the word that Milo Vineyards was planning something big was out, no question about it.
"No, thank you," he said. "I realize it's becoming more popular all the time-and destined to become even more popular-but I've had my limit today."
Reid grinned as their eyes met. Even Cecil Seagram couldn't resist revealing that his finger still remained on the pulse of the business.
"Just what are you two talking about?" Mona asked. "What's all this wine talk?"
"Nothing," her father said, smiling. "Perhaps Reid will tell you about it tonight when you're both at his apartment." He eyed them both, amused. "I must confess, Mona, that I still remain the watchful father. I've known for some time that you were working at Luben's with Reid. I've known everything. My main concern is that you're well and happy. I see that you are, so I have no objection to your leading your own life."
"Daddy, you've been spying on me!" Mona protested, but Reid could tell that she was flattered.
"So long as wine is marketed by the right agency there's no need for anyone to interfere in anybody's life," Cecil said. "Live and let live. That's what I always say."
"I totally agree," Reid said, not missing the elderly man's direct threat regarding the Milo Vineyard account. "As long as the right agency handles the selling of wine there's no need for a lot of most unusual facts to be made public knowledge."
Cecil Seagram understood exactly the counterthreat and was visibly disturbed. Apparently he had misjudged his daughter. He had not dreamed she would ever reveal their sexual relationship.
"Please, you two," she said. "Would you please tell me why all this talk about wine? If you want wine, then order it!"
"Mona," Cecil said to his daughter, "would you mind powdering your nose for a few minutes while I chat with Mrs. Hartley? It's important that we talk privately. Business. Please?"
Mona scowled, then looked quizzically at Reid. Reid nodded and she got up and went toward the ladies' room. When he was certain that she was out of earshot, Seagram said: "Business is business," he said, "but fucking my eighteen-year-old daughter is a slightly different thing." He stared Reid directly in the eye. "Keep this up, Reid, and I'll ruin you. You'll never work in the industry again. I mean it."
Reid grinned. Fuck you, he thought. "And what about you?" he said. "What about a man who plays around with his own daughter? How do you think the industry would feel about that?"
Seagram's eyes went ablaze. Furiously, he started to raise his hand to make a point and upset Mona's water glass. He didn't bother to call the waiter or mop up the mess himself. Speechless, he stood up and stalked from the restaurant.
Reid sat silently staring after Mona's father, his heart pounding inside his chest. "Rotten cocksucker!" he muttered to himself. He was going all out for the Milo wine account-more than ever. He wanted more than anything to beat Cecil Seagram at his own fucking game. He would win the account, show the prick who was best and continue to enjoy fucking Mona to his heart's content. Yeah, fuck the old bastard!
Mona returned a minute later and Reid said, "Unfortunately, your daddy got a little upset about our living together and had to leave."
Mona seemed sad. A look he had never seen on her face spread over her beautiful features-a look of ineffable sadness. "Reid," she said, "I hope you didn't hurt him. He-he means well. He-really can't help everything that's happened between us. You didn't say anything to hurt him, did you?"
"No, not really," Reid said. "I'm afraid he just didn't appreciate the truth. Let's get out of here. Come on."
"Yes," Mona said, her eyes ablaze just like her father's. "I can see the Gibbons toothpaste account is more important to you than I am."
For just an instant, Reid panicked. It was essential that Mona be in the proper sexual mood for Richard Gibbons. Somehow he had to pacify her. "Sugar," he said, reaching out and stroking her arm, "I tried to reason with your father, but it just wasn't any use. Let's go back and get that Gibbons account. I'll call your father then and apologize. Promise. Okay?"
With effort, Mona smiled. "All right," she said. "If-if you promise you'll call him." "I promise," Reid said.
Mona was pantiless-just as before with the Wonder-Lift account. Once again, Reid went-through his pitch, turning the pages of the pedestal chart and staring at Mona's lovely knees, her inner thighs and her little furry pussy that was such a pleasure to view when she crossed and uncrossed her legs. Her titties, firm and jiggly, showed through her blouse and Reid felt confident that despite the lack of brilliancy, the conception of his campaign, that he would be able to win over Richard Gibbons with Mona's assistance. Sea; war! Yeah. That's what it was Make the prick come in his pants and buy the campaign... yeah....
"Do you think this is sexy enough?" Mona asked, demonstrating by uncrossing her legs and displaying her delicious little snatch. He could see the vertical line of her pink little puss and he said, "Baby, you give him a shot of your little cunt-just like that-and we'll have ourselves one toothpaste account for sure. Christ, he'll be down on his knees between your legs trying to clean his teeth on your little cunt brush."
Mona giggled. "We have a little time, don't we? Would you care to-to lick my cunt just a little? Don't you think I should be primed just a little... just a little?"
Reid went over and, without preliminaries, knelt down, parted her legs and ran his tongue up the length of her tasty pussy. Somehow, the thought that he was having "firsts"-lapping Mona's cunt before Richard Gibbons could dine there-turned him on. After a few good licks, though, he stopped, controlling himself and gazed into her eyes. "Very nice," he said. "Richard should enjoy it. I-I think I'd better stop now though. After all, I don't want to be a cunt hog, do I?"
"Go ahead," she breathed, her eyes rolling lustfully, "I-I find it sort of nice, actually. Nobody-but nobody-sucks my cunt the way you do." She held his cheeks, pleading in a ladylike way for more.
"I think we'd better save you for Richard," Reid said, forcing himself to go away. "It's an important account and we don't want you sore and lacking juice, right?"
She sighed, crossing her legs again, hiding her little snatch from view. "Okay, I guess you're right," she said. "But tonight I want you to do it to me-all the way. This afternoon with Richard I don't mind being an actress, but tonight I want my box eaten properly. You've created an addict, you know... ummm...."
Reid chuckled. Little did she know. "No, you're wrong there," he said. "You've made me an addict. I'm addicted to your cunt, sweet. In fact, pulling away from you and taking my tongue out of your little honey nest is bringing on severe withdrawal. You give me pussy pangs. Ouch!"
Mona laughed brightly. "Well, bring on this Richard. Let's get him out of the way so we can go home and settle down to some real cunt-sucking and cock-sucking. Ummm... do I ever want that stiff pole of yours in my mouth."
Reid clutched his genitals. "You shouldn't say things like that," he said. "What are you-some kind of sex sadist?"
"Something like that," Mona said. "Yes. I just happen to dig your cock... cock, pussy... cock... cock, pussy... cock, cock, cock, cock... ummm...."
Chapter Eight
The Gibbons account turned out to be quite a simple matter actually. Richard Gibbons and his cohort, Sam Benton, (why did they always seem to arrive in twos for advertising presentations?) were most receptive to Reid's erotic approach in marketing their product. They were knowledgeable and up-to-date gentlemen; they understood the importance of sex in marketing an oral product. Therefore, when Reid showed them his sketches of a young cowboy raising a tube of Gibbons toothpaste slowly from his hip, removing the top and then shooting a steady stream of the tube's white contents directly into a girl's eager mouth as her eyes rolled lustfully, they instantly agreed that such a phallic representation of an ejaculating stream of "Delicious Gibbons" into a beautiful girl's waiting mouth would sell the product. Strangely, though, it was Sam Benton who, unlike the "yes man" of the Wonder-Lift Forbes-Corey team, raised the principal objection.
"A masterpiece," Benton began. "There's no doubt in my mind that you are an advertising genius, Mr. Hartley. However, the TV spot you've suggested, will raise such hell I'm afraid that in the long run it will hurt us."
Richard Gibbons nodded, seemingly agreeing. He sighed. "Yes, maybe he's right, Mr. Hartley," he agreed. "I-I just don't know. It will sell our product, most assuredly, but can we risk it?"
Reid glanced at Mona. Once again, just as they had done with the Wonder-Lift account, Mona as pre-arranged removed a tube of Gibbons toothpaste from a brown paper sack and held it-gripped it like a cock actually-lovingly in her dainty little hand.
"Gentlemen," Reid said. "What is my secretary holding in her hand?"
"A tube of Gibbons toothpaste," both men chorused.
"Precisely. But we don't want to sell Gibbons toothpaste, do we? Did Wrigley sell chewing gum or did he sell a smile? Do you believe you sell suntan lotion because people merely like darker skins? Hell, no. A suntan makes a woman more desirable-a man, too. And when you show them rubbing the stuff on each other's bare skin the stuff sells."
"That's slightly different," Gibbons said.
"How?" Reid counterattacked.
"Well, rubbing someone's body is different from squirting a stream of white cream into someone's mouth. I mean-"
"Don't you see that it's all part of the same thing?" Reid interrupted. "One is merely a prelude to the other. It's all part of the sexual act. I tell you that if Gibbons doesn't do it, your competition will! Christ, when a guy rubs lotion on his girl friend's back you don't think everybody watching knows what's going on? Sure, some people react on a subconscious level. But the majority of viewers know precisely what is happening. Still, nobody except a lunatic fringe, which constitutes a hopeless fraction of your market, objects to rubbing on suntan lotion. And that lunatic fringe merely calls added attention to your product. Believe me, gentlemen, I know what I'm talking about."
Gibbons sat scratching his head. Reid knew that it was Gibbons who would make the final decision. Benton was a powerful influence, true, but it was Gibbons who would make the decision. "I don't know," he said, shaking his head. "I just don't know."
Benton shook his head obstinately.
"Mona," Reid said, "please illustrate precisely what we have in mind, would you?"
"Yes, sir," she chirped, removed the cap from the tube. Slowly, ever so lovingly, she squeezed the contents of the tube into her open mouth. "UMMMM," she said. "Gibbons gives me things I yearn for... things I dream of but would never breathe a word to a soul about... Gibbons makes my mouth feel all tingly... it tastes so good I even want to swallow it... yummy... my boyfriends love me when I do this...."
Reid saw that both men were swallowing at Mona's ultra-erotic demonstration.
"Well, what do you think? Exciting, yes," Reid said. "Obscene? Never!"
"Very impressive, but-" Benton began.
Suddenly Reid knew that he had to be dramatic-dramatic in a way he had never been dramatic before. He elected to risk everything. Quickly, he rose to his feet, went over to where Mona sat on the couch, dropped his pants and quickly, with a minimum of manipulation, achieved a full erection. He stood somewhat sideways to that the men could observe clearly what was to follow.
"Take hold of my cock, Mona," he commanded. "Take hold of my flesh tube of Gibbons toothpaste!"
Mona complied.
"Now repeat while staring at my organ what you just said regarding that tube!"
Both men's mouths hung open now in total amazement at what they were witnessing as Mona spoke. When she had finished, Reid stuffed his cock back inside his pants, zipped up his fly and returned to the pedestal chart. While the shock was still upon them, he flipped to the next page of the pedestal chart. There, in full flesh color, was an enormous representation of a flesh-colored tube of Gibbons toothpaste. The vessel even bulged slightly at the bottom to simulate testicles somewhat and, at the top near the cap, was a kind of gathering that could be interpreted as foreskin!
"Here, gentlemen, is your new package-a package which along with the campaign I've outlined will triple the sales of your product! I absolutely guarantee it! Women will buy Gibbons like crazy-many not even knowing why-and to men the facts won't even seem apparent! In fact, you'll even corner the goddamn fag market!" He paused now for dramatic effect. "Primarily, though, we're aiming at females." He spoke very slowly, wanting every word to sink in. "Remember, as we all know and as every market study has revealed, it is the female who does the shopping. It is the female who actually selects the product from this nation's shelves! You have before you the most dynamic selling concept-combined with packaging-in this nation's history!"
Benton sprang to his feet enraged. "You mean to stand there and tell us you're going to put men's cocks and balls in grocery stores and drug stores throughout the country. I don't know about you, Richard," he said, turning to his partner, "but I've seen quite enough. This is the work of a madman! Preposterous! Absolutely unthinkable!"
Reid saw that Richard Gibbons was paying no attention to his cohort. Instead, he was staring at Mona's bare cunt beneath her miniskirt. Reid decided that the time was right to leave Richard alone with Mona. He grabbed Benton forcibly by the arm and started for the door.
"Naturally," Reid said, "the newspaper and magazine ads will take a slightly different approach, even though the packaging must remain the same. Mr. Gibbons, if you don't mind, I'd like to dispel Mr. Benton's fears by showing him other sketches dreamed up by our art department. With your approval we should be back in ten or fifteen minutes."
Richard Gibbons was panting and still staring at Mona's totally visibly snatch that lay at the end of the smooth and satiny texture of her inner thighs. "Uh-yes," he muttered. "That might be a good idea. You two-uh-go ahead. Good idea... good idea... better look everything over completely before making a final decision, Sam," he said to his partner.
With that, Reid whisked the protesting Sam Benton from the room and down the corridor to the art department where, as usual, he turned a prospect presenting obstacles over to the art director, Jules. Then Reid went to the peep hole and peered into his office to see how Mona was progressing with Richard Gibbons.
It took only a moment to see that, once again, Mona was a master at the sex game. When it came to seduction and extracting promises, she was a virtuoso. Reid watched and listened.
Richard Gibbons seemed somewhat embarrassed now that he and Mona were alone. He stared down at the floor, as though groping for words. Finally, glancing up at Mona's bare honey nest and her smiling, anticipatory face, he said, "I must say that was quite a-a dramatic presentation you and Mr. Hartley put on."
Mona spread her legs wider still and blinked her long lashes invitingly. "Yes," she agreed. "It's because we both believe in the campaign you just saw outlined. It just seems a pity that "there seemed to be some objections on your part and so we-we really outdid ourselves to convince you."
Gibbons chuckled. "Yes, I'd say his taking his his penis out and your grabbing it that way showed your sincerity."
Mona grinned. The poor man was doing his best to keep from being obvious at staring at her cunt hole. "We didn't do everything though, did we?" she asked. "I mean, I did squirt the toothpaste in my mouth but he didn't-didn't squirt his stuff in my mouth. That would have been dramatic." Mona could see Gibbons' stiff prick bursting against his fly. "Frankly, the demonstration excited me," she said. "My boss never took his thing out like that and held it near my mouth. Did it excite you, too?"
"Y-yes," Gibbons stammered.
"Listen, if I locked the door maybe you'd let me do that to you-just to prove that women really like to do that kind of thing. Research. You know? To prove that my boss's theory about the Gibbons package will make women buy your product, okay? Strictly research, of course." She rose and went over and locked the door just as she had done with Forbes on the Wonder-Lift account. When she returned, she said, "Why don't you take your prick out? It'll just take a minute. Please? I feel all squishly in my pussy and even my mouth feels wet. Please?"
Gibbons began trembling all over. He ran his hand over his face, then unzipped his fly and let his cock flop free.
"Yummy-yum-yum," Mona said. "Just like that new tube of Gibbons toothpaste Mr. Hartley was talking about. Oh, it makes me want to just chew and nibble and suck and lap and make love to it all day." Sitting there on the couch, Mona puckered up her lips and asked Gibbons to come over and stand in front of her so she could lick his big flesh tube.
Staggering, his dripping prick standing out in front of him, Gibbons made his way to Mona's waiting mouth and aimed it at her wet lips. But Mona appeared dissatisfied with this. She slid his pants and shorts all the way down to his knees, then to his ankles. She gazed at the meaty monster for a moment, then began dabbing with her tongue at the tiny slit in its bulging, purplish head as she massaged his hairy balls with one hand and ran her other hand over his buttocks tantalizingly at the same time, dipping her fingertips into the cleft of his ass from time to time, too. Finally, she inserted her finger directly into his rectum and took the entire head of the gushing cock into her mouth. Hollow-cheeked, she began nursing and emitting little whimpering sounds. Occasionally, she would cease her laving efforts and lean back to study the jutting ramrod that seemed ready to burst through the ceiling. Each time she did so, she referred affectionately, lustfully and with glazed eyes, to his member as a flesh tube.
Peering through the peep hole, Reid once again felt the jealousy and envy he had experienced when watching Mona work on Forbes of Wonder-Lift, but he realized exactly what she was doing. Her use of the phrase "flesh tube" repeatedly proved that she was working to sell Gibbons on the new tube design and the effect it would have on sales.
"Ummmm... ohhhh," she kept saying. "And your nice flesh tube even has these nice things these nice balls just like on that tooth paste tube for a girl to lick... ummmm... and up near the end where the stuff comes out there's this nice little ruffle of skin to nibble on... just like on that toothpaste tube. I-I wish I hadn't seen that picture of the tube... it... it makes me think of-of a man's beautiful prick and makes me want to lick it and make love to it all day. I-I really shouldn't be doing this, should I? Mr. Gibbons, if my boss knew... oh, I shouldn't be doing this... I shouldn't be doing this terrible, terrible thing to such an important man as you... I shouldn't...."
And then, abruptly, she broke away-ceased her tonguing and left poor Richard Gibbons with his prick out in the cold. There are certain times when a man looks as though he might die. One of those time is when he actually is about to die. Another of those times is when his prick-for one reason or another-must be extracted from a female cunt or mouth.
Richard Gibbons now looked as though he were about to die. Vainly he bucked involuntarily, clutching for Mona's mouth, trying for mouth heat once again.
Skillfully, Mona avoided his probing, searching, rigid hunk of meat. Gibbons' shaft had no place to go, no place to imbed itself, and it was killing him.
"Put it back in," he pleaded. "Please... why? Why are you stopping? You can't stop now... not now... not now... don't stop...."
"But I feel so guilty and disloyal to my boss. I mean, the toothpaste tube he thought up-the tube that got me all excited so I'd do this to you-isn't good enough for your company. That means he's failed and I-I just can't do this to you when he's failed. Mr. Gibbons, I cannot in good conscience continue to suck your cock and have your love cream squirt in my mouth when my boss has failed."
Gibbons' eyes bulged insanely. "He-he hasn't failed. We'll market the goddam package. We'll do everything your boss says. Anything! Anything! Everything! Only don't stop! Don't stop! Jesus, if you stop I'll die!"
Mona still tickled his balls, spurring him on. "Oh, you can't imagine how wonderful that makes me feel," she said. "You're not lying to me? You'll keep your promise and I'll never tell anybody about this? It will be our secret?"
"Yes! Yes! Come on and suck. Suck me off. Hurry!"
"What about your partner? What if Mr. Benton says, no?" Mona asked, still fondling his balls and playing with his ass, running her fingers ticklingly up and down its fuzzy cleft. "Screw Benton!" he yelled. "Now finish me please..." Desperately, Gibbons clutched her hair and now, her mission accomplished, Mona resumed her masterful sucking of the waiting, bone-hard gristle that jutted out be-searching, rigid hunk of meat. Gibbons' shaft for a few seconds and then, once again, stopped. "I can't tell you how happy I am that you're approving Mr. Hartley's campaign," she mewed.
"Yes, yes... it's approved!" Gibbons screamed and impatiently jammed his cock into Mona's mouth once again.
Peering from behind the wall, Reid doubled up with laughter. Beyond a doubt, Mona was the most exquisite saleswoman he had ever seen. No, he thought, more like a torturess-a sadistic and dedicated torturess worthy of the Spanish Inquisition!
Now Reid's laughter came to a halt though as Mona really went to work. Reid watched in awe as her hands kneaded Gibbons' scrotum, fondled his hairy bulbs while her mouth performed miracles of delight up and down the length of his rigid shaft. She would suck hard briefly, then remove the meat plug from her hot lips and flutter her tongue from its base to its dribbling tip. Often her lapping, fluttering tongue went down as far as his testicles and, on several occasions, she lifted his entire flesh sack and kissed below it, taking each almond-shaped testicle gently into her mouth and drawing on it. Meanwhile, her finger continued to play with his rectum.
Gibbons' groaning was becoming an insane growl of pleasure. He gripped beneath her chin, urging her on, then behind her head. It was doubtful he had ever experienced anything like Mona's ministrations before. He tugged at her hair, ran his fingers through her hair and alternately gazed down at her mouth massaging his genital area and up at the ceiling. His eyes rolled to the back of his head when he looked up as though giving thanks to some sex deity for providing him with a sexual experience he had never dreamed could occur.
"Oh, baby," he repeated over and over again. "Oh, yes... suck... suck... suck. Yes, that's it... never stop sucking...."
Mona didn't cease her labors now. She seemed intent on making the man come. With each remark Gibbons made, she answered him in little moaning answers, as though to assure him she was enjoying every lap of his dick as much as he, as though she took as much delight in delivering pleasure as Gibbons did in receiving it. The way she gripped his shaft and the way she nursed, as though pleading for the cock that often rammed all the way to the back of her throat to drench and drain and spew, was beginning to bother Reid. Actress, hell! he thought. Here was a genuine born cocksucker who loved every thrust of the male penis at her throat!
What bothered Reid most was the way Mona seemed to be milking Gibbons' rod. Did she have to start at the base and tug forward as if she were milking a cow or something and had to have every drop of his semen? No, dammit! he decided. That was beyond even skilled courtesanship! No matter what the stakes, she didn't have to go that far! Still, he rationalized, perhaps she knew something he didn't. Perhaps by totally losing herself in the role she became that much more convincing, and this dedication-this apparent love of what she now did-could then be transmitted to the man whose prick she sucked and thereby hasten his orgasm. Perhaps she was an actress-the very best kind. Perhaps she was the kind of actress who genuinely lost herself in the role she was playing and returned to reality only after the curtain was down, or, in this case, only after the wad was shot. He hoped so...
Well, at last it was happening, and Reid was glad. Gibbons' ass was gyrating and his entire body was spasming involuntarily. Endve been so successful. We become competent at an early age."
Reid smiled, relieved. "Well, I certainly wouldn't question your family's success. Nobody could."
Tony Milo smiled a smile too mature for his age. One thing was certain. He could not be flattered. Another thing that bothered Reid was the fact that he seemed to be ignoring, for the most part, Mona's bare pussy! He did glance at it once, but merely took a deep breath and resumed his conversation with Reid.
"Shall we begin, Mr. Hartley?" he asked now, glancing at his watch as though his time were limited.
"Very well, Mr. Milo," Reid said, going to the pedestal chart. He turned the sheet and revealed the words HIGH-TANG. He said the name then, watching Milo's reaction closely. The lad's eyebrows raised and Reid began.
Reid used every gesture, intonation of voice, every winning tactic he knew as he made his presentation. From his bag of tricks he withdrew every psychological device; from his arsenal of experience he fired every blast. He pressed until pressing seemed unwise. He backed off until timidity seemed to be approaching. In short, he outlined in detail (with variations) the same approach he and Arthur Luben had discussed that first day he had learned of Milo Vineyards plan to market a popular wine drink. Tony Milo nodded, obviously impressed, but the final signal was not there. Finally, Reid elected to give Mona a shot at him before he could say no or maybe or anything short of yes. He excused himself under the pretense of wanting to check with the art department on a High-Tang selling brochure he had devised and wished to show his prospective client. He left the room and immediately went to the peep hole.
"Frankly, I think High-Tang is a perfect name for your product, Mr. Milo," Mona was saying. Her legs were just the right amount apart. Reid could see her snatch from his viewpoint. Why didn't the hot-blooded young Italian seem to be taking the bait?
Milo studied her dispassionately, drumming his fingers on the arm of the chair. "Yes," he agreed. "I think it's excellent. In fact, I think the entire campaign shows brilliant imagination and planning. It's certainly the best I've seen so far. However, I cannot make a final decision until I visit one more agency." He paused, obviously looking up Mona's dress. "I'm really surprised that in a preliminary presentation of this sort that Mr. Hartley has gone to so much trouble."
"That's the sort of man he is," Mona said. "He's a genius, and he believes in High-Tang. And when he believes in something he thinks it through thoroughly. It's no trouble, as you say."
"I see," Tony Milo said. "May I ask you something, Miss?"
"Seagram," Mona said. "Mona Seagram. Certainly."
"Did you dress hastily this morning? You seem to have forgotten to wear any panties."
Mona feigned shock and closed her legs. Then she held her cheeks in embarrassment. "Oh, I feel so-so awful. I'm terribly sorry, Mr. Milo. I-I had no idea...."
Tony laughed. "Oh, that's quite all right. It's really quite stimulating. I just thought you might like to know about it. That's all."
Mona stood up then and crossed over and sat down on the arm of the chair where Tony Milo sat. "Well, I guess I don't have to be a prude about it, do I? Still, I think it best if I stay out of view. I'll-I'll just sit here until Mr. Hartley returns." She ran her hand innocently through one of Tony's long black sideburns. "Tsk-tsk," she said, "I think you're working too hard. You've already gotten a few gray hairs."
Tony Milo gazed into Mona's big beautiful eyes and for the first time Reid knew that the boy was very much aware of Mona's presence. Yes, there was the old cock beginning to bulge inside the boy's tight-fitting pants. Mona was amazing!
"You're very beautiful," he said, his voice trembling.
"And you're very handsome," Mona said.
Tony leaned up and kissed Mona then-long and full on the lips while his cock stretched to its full length. Mona immediately ran her fingers down his chest and finally touched his erection. A moment later, she had his dark, Italian prick out and was jacking it slowly. "I-I shouldn't be doing this here. I-I wish you hadn't kissed me, Tony. If-if my boss knew what we were doing-" Suddenly she jumped up and ran over and locked the door.
When she returned and started to kneel before his enormous erection he lifted her and said, "No, Miss Seagram... I'm excited, naturally, but sucking my cock isn't necessary to win the Milo account... I find it... objectionable."
Mona sat on the arm of the chair again. "I wasn't doing it for that reason," Mona said. "I-I genuinely find you sexually attractive. I guess I just went crazy for a minute. Forgive me? Please?"
Despite himself, Tony Milo was breathing hard and his cock still stuck up straight and stiff as a knackwurst. Slyly, Mona reached down again and began jacking the huge meat hunk slowly up and down, up and down. This time, now that Mona was making no effort to suck on his organ, the lad permitted her to continue.
"I can't help it," Mona gasped. "Just let me play with it, please? I don't know what's come over me, but I-I just have to hold your big beautiful hunk of prick in my hand. I'm sorry I started to do what I did before... I really think you're the most attractive man I've ever met... honest... I don't give a damn about High-Tang... I just care about you."
Watching Mona jacking off Tony Milo's prick, Reid suddenly realized that Mona was not acting. Not this time. It had been apparent in her voice since her approach, and now her saying that she didn't give "damn" about High-Tang clinches his hunch. Mona actually felt drawn like a magnet to this boy! He felt anger and jealousy surging through him. Still, he couldn't rush in and break them up. No, goddam it... he had to stand here and watch!
Their mouths were locked tightly together in a passionate soul kiss as Mona continued to jack off Tony Milo. Finally, the big vein on the underside of Tony's cock swelled and their mouths and tongues became a blur as the lad's impending orgasm neared. Mona broke away briefly.
"Tony, I'm sorry-I told you that-but I can't help it-I just can't help wanting you to spurt your beautiful cream. I-I want to watch it squirt out of your beautiful thick cock. Tell me when it's ready, will you? Please?"
Tony simply said, "Now!"
Enraptured, Mona broke away from their soul kiss again and stared at the head of Tony's prick as it began its whalelike spout. Great clots of sperm-buttermilk in texture-leaped high into the air and for an instant Reid thought the lad seemed determined to hose down the entire office. He groaned and still the clumps of jism came whizzing through his jerking shaft. Much of Tony's spend dribbled over Mona's pumping hand but the bulk of the boy's load hurtled endlessly into space. Finally, his balls emptied, the spewing ceased and he sat slumped with jism all over the front of his suit. Mona quickly ran to the bathroom and returned with a damp cloth and began dabbing at the stains. Then, satisfied that she had removed most of the evidence from the chair and carpet and his clothing, she snuggled close to him, whispering words in his ear that Reid could not hear.
In a minute or two, Tony said, "Did you really mean what you said about not giving a damn about the High-Tang business?"
Mona nodded. "Yes, Tony. I only care about you. And it's not because of money, either. My father has millions. There's just some peculiar chemistry between us. Do you sense it?"
"Yes," Tony said. "And I'm glad you feel about High-Tang the way you do. I don't approve of using sex as a weapon in business matters. I'm not saying you did, but the fact is I wouldn't let Luben's handle the Milo Vineyard account now even if I wanted to." Tony seemed to be studying Mona, trying to be absolutely sure. Then, apparently satisfied, he stood up and tucked his lazy hard-on back inside his pants. "We're going to lunch," he said. "Tell your boss, all right?"
Mona unlocked the door. "All right, Tony," Mona said. "Whatever you say, love."
Looking through the peep hole, Reid could not believe his ears. This was the same girl who had professed love for him, the same girl he'd made love to this morning! There was no question in his mind that she was sincere in what she was saying to Tony Milo. There went the partnership with Luben's; there went everything!
He sighed heavily, closed the peep hole, and returned to the office. It was difficult trying to pretend he still had a chance of winning the Milo account. "Sorry about that brochure," he said. "They haven't quite finished it."
"That's quite all right, Mr. Hartley," Tony Milo said. "I've seen enough. I'll let you know my decision within a week. Now, if you don't mind, I'm taking your secretary to lunch."
"Be my guest," Reid said.
Tony and Mona went out the door, holding hands and staring into each other's eyes like teenage lovers. Well, after all Mona was a teenager, Reid thought as he sat slumped behind his desk. He decided to spare Arthur Luben the bad news for the moment. Better to break the disappointment to him easy. Also, it would give him time to look for another job. He pressed the inter-com button and a moment later told Arthur: "Milo just left. Looks good, but he won't give us a decision until next week... yes... yes... I said it looks good, didn't I?"
Mona Seagram never returned from lunch. For the next two days, Reid lied and said that she was home with the flu. It was on the third day of her absence that he received the telephone call. It was 10:15 in the morning and the office was like a graveyard with Mona gone. Too, the general feeling throughout the agency was that Reid Hartley had lost the account. "Hello?" Reid answered in a monotone as he picked up the phone. Then he sat up straight. "Mona! Where in hell are you?"
"Acapulco," she said. "Tony and I are married. We're on our honeymoon. Isn't that wonderful? Oh, Reid, I'm sorry the way everything happened, but I'm so happy. Honest."
"I'm glad for you," Reid said, tears in his eyes. "Congratulations."
"Oh, and don't worry about High-Tang. It's Luben's-Luben and Hartley's, I mean. That was the least I could do. Don't worry about it. Tony has promised, okay?"
Now Reid was laughing through his tears. "Okay," he said. "I-I'm happy for you. I guess you should have a guy your own age. You seemed to have something special together, all right. My very best. You know there'll always be a special place in my heart for you."
"And there'll always be a special place in mine, too, for you. Thanks for everything, Reid. Get another secretary quick and keep up that good batting average. Bye-bye."
"Bye-bye," Reid said.
First Reid buzzed Arthur Luben and informed him of the good news. Then he sat pondering Mona's advice. She was absolutely correct. He would have to get another secretary who would hang around the office of Luben and Hartley without panties. He hadn't thought of Janet since Malibu. Yes, she would be perfect, he decided, and he knew she would do anything he asked. Also, as Mona had said, "There are three places," Janet had three places, too-three very nice places as he recalled.
Reid Hartley of Luben and Hartley withdrew his personal address book from his inside coat pocket and turned to the name of Janet Winthrop.
