Tiffany could hear her father's deep breathing. Gosh, he must be asleep, she thought. She quickly pulled the sheet up over her head, and slowly, very slowly, maneuvered her head down toward his tasty cock. She could still hear his heavy, deep breathing. He was still asleep. Not able to hold herself back any more, she placed her hot lips on his cockhead and began to suck and tongue her father's prick. It was working, his cock began to stiffen in her mouth, pressing against the back of her throat. This time, Tiffany thought to herself, I'm going to swallow all of his cum . . .
CHAPTER ONE
Look at that bitch with her well-shaped tits and her hot, hungry cunt, Tiffany thought while glaring at her stepmother.
The big oak door slammed behind them and Tiffany stood frowning as she stared around the paneled entrance hall; then she shivered. "It's creepy," she murmured, almost to herself, then she added, "I don't like it." As she spoke, she glared at Patricia, who chose to ignore the remark.
"Come on, dear," said Patricia, pushing past her and gazing up the broad staircase. "It's late and we've all got to be up early tomorrow." She turned, her long blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, "Eliot, for chrissake, come on."
Tiffany continued glaring at her stepmother, thinking for the hundredth time that she could be the most impatient and annoying person. Perhaps there would be a chance to get even with her soon, to pay her back for marrying her father, Eliot, who hadn't even discussed it with her. He had said he loved her more than anyone else, and he knew that Tiffany worshiped him, would do anything for him. She gazed at her father's handsome face and smiled. Maybe before the trip was over, she could show her father just how much she really loved him, what she was willing to do to prove it. And it she could do that and maybe make Patricia look bad at the same time, well. . . there was no telling what might happen then. She knew her brother shared her dislike of their new stepmother, who, even though she was beautiful, was still nevertheless a bitch. Yes, Axel disliked Patricia also.
"Eliot, come on." Patricia's voice echoed harshly once more.
"Just shaking the snow off my shoes, dear." Eliot grinned at her, and then winked at Tiffany. "What do you think of the place?"
"I just said it was creepy," said Tiffany shortly. "I don't like it."
Patricia frowned. "It's a very elegant mansion, young lady," she snapped. "And it's also been my family's home for three generations." She began moving up the stairs. "You don't get homes like this in California."
Tiffany raised her eyes to her father and smirked. "Just as well," she said softly, as Eliot ruffled her hair with a gruff gesture of affection.
"Relax. We're only going to be here a few days."
Tiffany followed her father up the stairs, noticing how their footsteps echoed eerily through the house. She shivered again. "I'm scared," she murmured.
From the landing, Patricia snorted loudly. "Any thirteen-year-old who's scared in this house must have problems," she said tartly, "but then . . . "Her voice trailed off as she saw Eliot's face tighten up and a warning glint appear in his eyes. "If it's any consolation, Tiffany, your bedroom is right next to ours."
"She'll be all right," said Eliot. "Won't you, Tiffany?"
"I s'pose so," was her grudging reply, and in silence she followed him down the hallway to where Patricia was already banging around in the large master bedroom, turning up the heat and opening closet doors, grumbling at the dust which the servants were supposed to have taken care of before their arrival. "Honestly," she complained, wiping her glove across the dresser, "the folks have been gone only two weeks, and I bet those servants haven't touched this house. Probably sat on their butts downstairs, drinking up Father's good sherry." She turned to Tiffany, who had been standing staring around the enormous room, looking with suspicion at the antique furnishings, the large four-poster bed, the plush Oriental rugs and the heavy velvet drapes over the windows. "Tiffany, your room's in there, through the bathroom," she said, pointing as she pulled off her gloves. "Unfortunately, we have to share the bathroom but then.. . " She shrugged again. Tiffany had noticed how her stepmother was forever leaving sentences unfinished, but carried her meaning more than adequately by the shrug of those exquisite shoulders.
"Come on, sweetheart," said Eliot, putting his arm around his daughter. "I'll take you in and get you settled, and then it's bedtime. I'm bushed."
"I'm more than bushed," said Patricia, sitting on the bed and slipping off her shoes, "I'm positively exhausted. I don't think it was such a good idea, coming along."
"But you came, didn't you?" said Tiffany, disappearing through the bathroom with her father before Patricia could think of a suitably cutting retort. "Little bitch," she muttered to herself, staring after Tiffany, and thinking for the thousandth time that it would have been so much nicer if the man she married had not been a widower with two teen-age children . . . But then not many men had the money and position that Eliot could boast of, and Patricia had known for many years that it was just as easy to marry a wealthy man, especially for an actress with her looks and charm.
She looked up as Eliot came back in, closing the connecting door to the bathroom. "You know, Eliot, that child can be positively annoying at times," she said sharply.
"Be patient with her, Pat. She's going through a difficult time." Eliot came over and took his wife into his arms. She let him embrace her and put her arms around his broad shoulders, a tempting smile on her lips. "After all, Tiffany has been through more than just puberty this past year."
Patricia broke away and laughed dryly. "From the way she behaves, I think she went through puberty five years ago," she said. "I'm willing to bet she's made out with every kid on the block."
"That's not very nice," said Eliot chidingly. "Tiffany may be precocious, but she's not promiscuous."
"Like every father," replied Patricia, shaking her head sadly. "You're blinded by paternal feeling. Believe you me, that daughter of yours is going to be a nympho very soon."
"Well, don't you worry about that." Eliot sat down and began undressing. "I can handle Tiffany. And . . . "He rose and walked over to her in his shorts. "I can handle you, too." His hands were firm on her bare shoulders and she felt his cock pressing against her panties.
"All right," she murmured easily, feeling a familiar glow spread through her, "I know."
He dropped his shorts and jumped enthusiastically onto the large bed, staring at her with pleasure as she shucked off her bra and slid her panties down; then she turned, naked, her tits quivering, and came to him, sliding up against his body with a contented sigh.
"I'm tired," she murmured lazily. "But never too tired."
"Just as well," he said teasingly, rubbing his prick against her. "Because I've got something for you."
"Don't you always?" She giggled and let her hand slip down between their bodies, her fingers closing around his hardening prick and feeling a thrill of pleasure, as she always did, at its size and eager virility. "I'm glad I married you," she whispered. "Even though I had to wait."
"You talk too much," he said dreamily, "Do something with that mouth of yours, huh? My cock's just in the mood."
"Your prick's always in the mood," she said, her voice muffled as her head slid down over his stomach, her tongue licking, searching, and finding. "Oh, Christ, you've got a beautiful cock," she said thickly just before her lips closed around his throbbing flesh.
Tiffany lay in the large bed, staring up at the vague shapes that danced on the ceiling, elongated leaf images that the street light projected through the trees outside. She gazed at the moving patches of light and shadow, eerie against the darkness of the room, and imagined an evil ballet of little men dancing above her bed, each looking lasciviously at her as she lay beneath the covers, her fingers touching her body with more than adolescent curiosity, exploring her pussy between her thighs and kneading occasionally the burgeoning tits that had already caused Patricia to comment enviously: "If you're like that at thirteen, God help us when you're twenty-one," and Tiffany had giggled, but had felt a glow of pride. Patricia, though beautiful, did not have a particularly large bust. But Tiffany knew that she herself would have a good figure; she had heard girls at school say that if you had good boobs at twelve, you'd end up with real groovy tits later, especially if you played with them, something Tiffany liked to do almost every night before falling asleep.
She would squeeze the rounded tits, touch the nipples, and marvel how they became firm and hard. At the same time, she would experience a glow in her loins, and her eager fingers would press between her tight, incredibly soft folds of cunt flesh, touching her clitoris and sending shivers of anticipation through her. She imagined how it would be to have a man's prick enter her; oh, yes, a nice, big man, like her father. She had seen him naked once, only once, and the image had stayed with her, recalled during her moments alone when she played with her body and let her fantasies carry her off . . .
She sometimes even imagined herself lying in her father's arms, while his muscular body descended upon her, covering her totally, his rock-hard prick sliding between her legs and lifting her into a world of unutterable pleasure. He was so handsome; no wonder Patricia had married him after the accident. He was a good catch: wealthy, talented, respected, and above all, handsome and virile. He should have been a movie star, Tiffany often thought, instead of managing performers. He should be a performer himself, and above all, a performer in bed. Oh, Daddy . . . Tiffany sighed as her fingers pushed deeper into her pussy, exciting her beyond belief. She closed her eyes, blotting out the shapes on the ceiling, and thinking only of her father's face above hers, his body next to her own, and his sex bringing her to a peak of bliss . . .
Suddenly she heard a loud cry, then a laugh; her blood seemed to freeze for a second and her mind flashed a picture .of her father and Patricia, their bodies embroiled in the act of fucking, and Patricia's arms around that broad, tanned back while he plunged his cock deep, in and out of her, bringing forth those cries of ecstasy.
Furiously, Tiffany sat up in bed, staring through the darkness at the door to the bathroom. Only twenty feet away, she thought; they're in bed, screwing, fucking . . . He's fucking that woman, the woman who replaced her mother.
She slipped out of bed and tiptoed over to the bathroom door. Her hand reached for the handle, then drew back; why not? She had to go to the John, so why shouldn't she? But quietly now-just in case. With infinite care, Tiffany turned the handle and the door opened silently. She moved forward, feeling the icy touch of the tiles on her bare feet. The muffled sounds were louder, and she heard the faint creaking of the bed. She went over to the far door, her heart pounding, her breathing jerky. Even more carefully, she turned the handle and pulled. The door glided on well-oiled hinges and a faint glow came through the crack. Tiffany bent down and stared into the master bedroom.
In the faint glow from the street lights, she saw the outline of the bed, and the two figures entwined: her father, his rounded buttocks silhouetted, driving up and down, and beneath him, Patricia's body, thrashing, arms clutching, nails clawing at the skin, and soft moans coming from her mouth. "Oh, Eliot . . . Eliot . . . " she was whispering. "Deeper, baby, deeper, fuck me, fuck me good. Oh, it's so good. More, more cock, baby, more-"
Tiffany found herself trembling, and, suddenly afraid, she closed the door quietly and turned, going back into her room and scooting under the covers, lying there, shivering, her mind teeming with hot desire. She had seen them! Not very clearly, but she had seen her father fucking her stepmother. She had heard those forbidden words being mouthed like some common whore. That's all she was: a high-class whore. Axel had said so once, and Tiffany knew her brother had been right. Patricia might be a good actress, but she was still a high-class whore had had traded her career to become Mrs. Eliot Cartwright. And she was in there now, screwing with her father, fucking for him . . .
With a sudden, uncontrollable and confusing rush of emotion, Tiffany turned over, buried her head in the pillow and sobbed. The moment passed, and she lay still, sniffing; then anger pushed her hatred even higher.
"I'll get even," she whispered to herself. "I'll get her. I will. I'll get rid of her and then there'll just be me and Daddy, and Axel-and no more Patricia. No good fucking whore." Her loins glowed as she whispered the words. "Fucking whore." Her hands slid down to her crotch and her fingers probed her cunt again, and suddenly her body was awash with desire, with angry emotion. Frantically she pushed her fingers in, touching her clitoris, rubbing, squeezing. She felt her limbs tremble. She was still trembling slightly as she drifted off to sleep, her mind filled with the thought of herself in the bed in the next room, her own body being fucked by her father, his large, hard cock pushing into her . . .
The noise of the shower gently brought Tiffany out of a deep sleep. For a moment, she lay still, staring up at the unfamiliar ceiling. She was in Evanston; she was not in California. She was lying in a guest room in the home of her stepmother. The woman her father had married. Cheap common whore. Not even high-class. Just a common slut who happened to be beautiful and who had made a name for herself in a few films.
Tiffany rolled over, gazing briefly out of the window and frowning. No California sunshine. Just bleak, wind-swept clouds with the promise of rain any minute. Oh, why did they have to come to this dreadful place? Why couldn't her father have booked Axel in Florida or someplace warm? Much as she loved her brother, Tiffany felt little enthusiasm for his upcoming engagement, the first
"big gig" as her father had called it. Despite some of the big names Eliot handled as manager, he took the greatest pride in his son, whose career as a pop singer and musician had blossomed without any particular help from his father. The boy had talent, determination, and sex appeal.
Tiffany remembered how the girls at school carried on over Axel. "He's your brother?" gasped Estelle O'Leary, her eyes glowing with ecstasy at the thought. "I'm mad for him. Can you get me a date, Tiffany?" And when Tiffany had hesitated, Estelle added, with all the lechery possible for a teen-ager, "I'm a good lay, you can tell him. I bet he screws all those girls who come to see him."
"Which girls?" replied Tiffany innocently. She was .very good at feigning innocence when she wanted to, but she couldn't brush away the image of the horde of teenyboppers who had invaded the backstage area at the club in Van Nuys where Axel had played to packed houses for over four weeks. Yes, Axel probably did screw those girls, who were obviously after more than merely autographs.
Tiffany snuggled into the bed, her mind wondering what it would be like; her fingers explored her body once again as she thought of Axel, who was very mature for his age. A lot of people could hardly believe he was not out of his teens. His rugged physique, his flashing, inviting eyes, and his tight, tight jeans that showed off everything his cock had, which Tiffany knew was more than average, just like her father. Both were big men, and had big cocks. Suddenly Patricia's face flashed into her mind, and she felt a glow of resentment once more, remembering the scene she had witnessed the night before.
Maybe one day she could get Axel to show her what it was all about. And if not Axel, then perhaps her father . . . Why not? If she could only get rid of that woman for a while. Fantasies flooded her mind. What if Patricia could go away for a while, and Tiffany could make the excuse that she was scared, and crawl into bed with her father, the way she used to do up until a year or two ago . . .
She remembered those moments. Usually it was on a Sunday morning, when he would sit up in bed and read the papers. She would crawl up next to him, pretending interest in Peanuts and Dennis the Menace, when in reality she was thrilling to the feel of her father's strong arms as her fingers lay on his flesh, and her legs pressed against his own under the blankets.
He was such a good-looking man, and so tender and kind. And he was also sexy, a fact that Tiffany had only recently begun to realize. No wonder all those women went wild over him; no wonder Patricia had married him. Yes, there would have to be an opportunity, and maybe she could work it out. She remembered Patricia saying once, "That child is anything but dumb, Eliot. She's smarter'n you give her credit for." Yes, Tiffany was smart all right. . .
Impatiently, she threw back the covers and stepped out of the bed onto the plush Oriental rug. She heard the muffled sounds of water in the basin. She pictured her father scrubbing his teeth, or perhaps drying himself after his morning shower, and her heart beat a little faster, picturing his naked body standing beside the tub, snaking as he toweled himself dry, the movements making his prick jiggle up and down, flopping around like it had that day she saw him by accident. It was such a nice big prick, too, thick, with lots of skin over the end. She wanted to touch it, to hold it, to . . .
She heard the bathroom door click, and her father's head appeared round the edge.
"Hi, sugar. You're up?"
"Yes, Daddy."
"See you downstairs for breakfast. Don't be long. We've got a busy day."
"Okay."
She walked across the room and into the bathroom, as her father disappeared through the door into his bedroom, closing it quietly behind him.
Ten minutes later, washed and dressed, Tiffany descended the stairs and, hearing the clatter of knives and forks, turned right down the wide hallway until she came to the dining room. Eliot and Patricia were already seated, talking in low tones. They glanced up quickly as Tiffany entered and sat down.
"Morning, dear," said Patricia with a forced smile. "I hope you slept well."
Tiffany nodded. "It was spooky, but I got used to it."
"We get used to everything in time," said Patricia. "Even Chicago."
"I thought this was Evanston," said Tiffany, eagerly grasping at some excuse to rile her stepmother.
"It is, but there's not much difference, really. In fact, your father and I have just been discussing the matter. I think I'm going back to California today."
Tiffany was too slow to hide the look of pleasure from her features, and Eliot glanced awkwardly across the table.
"I thought you liked it here," said Tiffany. "In your family ancestral home," she added cuttingly.
"I do, little girl, but not when the weather's like this." She turned to Eliot. "You'll be back in a week, won't you?"
He nodded. "No reason to stay after the concert." Then he smiled. "Especially if you're not with me."
"Idiot." She squeezed his hand and they exchanged a look of love. Tiffany flushed, remembering the fucking sounds the night before, and the silhoutted shapes she had seen on the bed.
"Axel's arriving on the noon flight," Eliot said, turning his attention back to his bacon and eggs. "Perhaps I could drive you out for a flight around eleven, then pick him up. It would save me a trip."
"Fine with me." Patricia looked over at Tiffany. "Oh, I'm sorry, dear. Here you've been sitting here with not even your coffee." She sighed impatiently and pressed the buzzer on the edge of the table. "These servants. They get worse every year."
"I'm glad we don't have any in California," said Tiffany. "It's easier to fix your own breakfast."
"For once I must agree with you, dear," said Patricia, with something approaching a warm smile on her lovely lips as she stared over Tiffany's shoulder at the butler who appeared through the door. "Carstairs, please bring a plate of bacon and eggs and some more coffee, will you?"
The man nodded and silently withdrew. Eliot pushed his plate away, took a sip from his coffee, and lit a cigarette. He smiled over at Tiffany.
"After we pick up Axel, perhaps I'll take you 'round Chicago and show you the sights," he said cheerfully. "It's really worth seeing. All the new buildings, the lake front. Michigan Avenue."
"Big deal," said Tiffany, "I'd rather go to a movie."
Patricia frowned and exchanged a look with Eliot. "You can improve your education," she said primly, "God knows it needs it. You might take her to the museum, Eliot."
Tiffany groaned dramatically; then further conversation was halted by the arrival of her breakfast, and she began eating ravenously. Her mind teemed with the new possibilities. Patricia would be leaving, which meant that she and her father would be alone ine this big old house. Oh, Axel would be around, but that wouldn't matter. He would have his own room, and she knew that he would not want to bother with her; he had said once, in a rage, that he had no time for kids, and he considered her still a kid. She'd show him; she was just as capable as he was, she knew, even though her experience with sex was nonexistent, except for her own nightly fingering of her pussy, and her squeezing of her tits, a practice she not only enjoyed, but which she rationalized as being good for their development. She was going to have big tits, because she knew from what she'd heard at school that boys like girls with big tits. And one day she would have a figure that would stop traffic, she swore; just as she also knew, staring across the table at her father, that it would not be long before she would have his arm around her and his strong body on top of her own and his big prick in her young cunt.
"You're looking wonderful, Axel," Eliot said for the tenth time. Tiffany gritted her teeth, wondering why her father was so hung up over his son, but also knowing instinctively that she was only feeling the tension and jealousy that stemmed from her plan . . . A plan which she had formulated carefully all day, from the long drive out to the airport through the interminable tour of the windy city (such a drag!) during which Eliot had gone over production details with Axel almost excluding her from the conversation. And Axel had lapped it all up, overwhelmed by the prospect of a major appearance, and a possible major recording contract in the works.
Axel had tried to talk to her, but there hadn't been much opportunity. It didn't matter, Tiffany thought; there was only one thing that mattered-one thing that hung heavily on her mind and chased all else from her consciousness.
Now they were back in the old house again. Eliot was showing Axel his room, and then they all said good night. Eliot bent down to kiss her before closing the bathroom door and going to his own room, alone, leaving her with heart beating unnaturally loud, and biting her lips nervously.
She walked over to the bed and began undressing slowly. She heard the muffled sounds from his room; then his quick journey to scrub his teeth. The sound of the John flushing, and then the door closing once more and she pictured him crawling into bed, stretching out and putting out the light, and relaxing-alone.
She wondered whether he missed Patricia; whether he missed having that warm, voluptuous body, eager and willing, next to him, the way it had been the night before when they had fucked so long and so athletically. Maybe he was lying there, playing with his cock and imagining Patricia's hands straying over his body.
Tiffany pulled on her pajamas and slid under the heavy covers, shivering slightly. She knew she had to wait until her father had at least settled down, and was heavy with sleep. Then she would act. Too soon would kill it, she knew. He had to be drowsy, to be in that semi-sleepy state when he would just lift the edge of the sheet and say gruffly, "Oh, all right, crawl in . . . "
The minutes ticked by, while outside the wind whistled through the trees, sending the dancing leaf shapes once more jumping about on the ceiling, and making her yearn desperately for the warm California climate. But then-if it hadn't been for the weather, Patricia might still be here, and she would be unable to try what she wanted-and at that moment, Tiffany wanted her father more than anything she could imagine. She wanted those strong arms about her-
Impatiently she slipped out of bed and tiptoed over to the bathroom door; she opened it noiselessly and went inside, her ear straining for sounds from the other room. With a slight smile of satisfaction, she heard the heavy breathing. Her father had dropped off to sleep, she knew. She knocked on the connecting door and, hearing no response, she opened it and went in. "Daddy."
There was a rustle of bedclothes and in the dimness, she saw her father look at her. "What is it, Tiffany?"
She walked over to the bed and stood, looking down at him.
"I'm scared, Daddy. Can I sleep with you tonight?"
"What d'you mean, scared?"
"It's spooky in there. Can't I stay here with you?"
"Oh, all right." He moved over across the bed, making room for her to scoot eagerly under the sheet.
"Daddy."
"What's it now?"
"Daddy, I'm cold."
"Oh, Tiffany."
He moved closer and she felt his hand slide under her neck and around her shoulder. Gratefully, she snuggled close to him, fitting into the curve of his body, and feeling his warmth surround her body.
"There. That better?"
"Hm."
She took his hand in her own and held it tightly. "Go to sleep now, baby. We've got a long day ahead."
"All right, Daddy. Good night."
She leaned around and kissed him quickly, then snuggled her body closer against him, feeling the slight bulge of his cock against her soft buttocks.
Suggestively she moved and she felt him pull his hips away.
"Go to sleep."
A note of impatience entered his voice, but she could tell he was almost asleep. She remained still and minutes later, she was rewarded by the sound of his heavy breathing and the hand she held was limp.
Now what? she thought. Do I wait? Do I move? Do I reach over and grab his cock . . .
Her heart was still pounding, and the thought of what could happen caused her entire body to shiver with anticipation. The heavy breathing behind her deepened and then, with a slightly muffled rasp, the breathing turned to a faint snore and he rolled over on his back.
Slowly, with nerve-shattering precision, Tiffany moved her body around so that she was lying on her side, facing him, his arm still across the pillow under her neck. Her hand moved across his chest and rested on his body, her fingers touching the smooth cotton of his pajamas, sensing the rise and fall with each deep breath.
Slowly Tiffany found her fingers moving down. Between the buttons, she touched the smooth flesh beneath, and with each contact, she felt a glow in her pussy, an incredible surge of desire such as she had never experienced before. Then her hand was on the knot that tied his pajama pants, and she paused, waiting breathlessly. Then, as his deep, faint snores continued unabated, she moved her hand lower, feeling the roughness of hair in the slit in his pajamas.
Hair! She was almost at the point she wanted-she was almost there! She let her fingers trail through the thick hair and then she felt the smooth flesh again, touching her fingertips. One more inch-and then she let her fingers slip down, around the smooth shaft, and she held her father's prick in her hand. Ever so gently, her heart about to burst within her, she began closing her fingers, savoring the incredible thickness, the smoothness, the loose skin around it. She remembered the time she had seen him naked before, and she never dreamed his cock was as big. It filled her whole hand. Carefully she moved up and down its magnificent length to the end, where the skin was folded over, covering the wide head that she knew lay underneath.
With infinite care, she eased the skin back and felt the slick bulb beneath, and at that point, she felt a slight jerk and the flesh began hardening. She squeezed it gently and felt it respond. It was getting bigger . . . harder . . . it was starting to stand up! Carefully she let her hand slide down to the side, and she felt the hair again, and also the soft sac beneath it. Her fingers touched the sac, pressing his round balls. Oh, how big they were! How wonderful to hold them in her hand, to caress their heavy strength, and then to slide back around the shaft of his prick, now rock-hard and standing up.
The snores suddenly reached a climax, and he moved in his sleep. Instinctively, Tiffany moved her hand away from him, but his eyes remained closed. In a few seconds, the deep heavy breathing resumed, and very gently she let her fingers once more enclose his cockshaft, and this time she squeezed it, rubbing the skin up and down slowly, feeling his prick jerk beneath her touch.
Her own body was trembling uncontrollably, and she held herself away, afraid that this might awaken him. Her loins were on fire, and she felt a curious wetness between her legs, something she had only felt once before when she had masturbated herself for a long time. But now, something deeper, something way inside, was giving her the strangest feeling. She felt her legs automatically wanting to move apart. She wanted to fuck . . .
Tiffany moved her one hand down and pressed her fingers into her burning cunt, touching her clitoris and letting her middle finger touch herself, rubbing that tiny nodule of passion until her entire body was heaving beneath the waves of desire that flooded her.
Her other hand was continuing its gentle massaging of her father's prick, marveling as she did so at the fantastic firmness beneath her fingers. She had never dreamed that it could get so hard, feel so good. It was big, too; she wondered how it could ever fit into her tight little cunt, but she knew it could. She also knew it would, but perhaps not right then.
Suddenly he moved, and groaned, and she heard incoherent whisperings coming from his mouth. "Oooh, Pat," he said. "Pat-"
Tiffany's hand froze and within her, anger rose like a venomous poison as she realized that he must be dreaming, and in his mind, he was thinking it was . . . that woman-in bed with him! For a second, Tiffany wanted to burst out crying in sheer frustration. Then she paused, and her hand closed once more around his penis, this time firmer, more sure. She felt his hips begin to rotate faster and she remembered the time that Axel had told her what happens at the end of fucking, how that wonderful, glorious feeling floods every nerve and then that stuff shoots out of the end of the prick. Tiffany had never seen it happen, even though she had asked Axel to show her, but he had laughed and said, "Later, little sister," but she knew that something happened that was the most wonderful thing any man could feel. Now, as she held her father's shaft in her hand and massaged it quicker and quicker, she knew that it was going to happen; that soon he would shoot that stuff out and she would know. And she wanted it to happen, she wanted him to know that it was her and not that woman who was making him feel so great. She almost wanted him to wake up, to see her next to him, her hand around his cockflesh, bringing him to that peak of passion.
Tiffany felt her own body responding to the eroticism of the moment. Her fingers caressed her clitoris, sending shivers of delight through her, amplified by her touching her father's cock and balls, holding that magnificent prick in her grasp, feeling it jerk and quiver with each movement. Desperately she wanted to roll over on top of him, to let the cock thickness slide into her hot little pussy and know for the first time what it felt like, what sex was all about. But she knew she couldn't, not now. This was not the time, not the right moment, but she knew the moment would come, later . . .
His body was moving quicker, his hips driving his prick up and down within her tight grip. She felt the skin slide back and forth around the hardness, while the large head flexed and pulsated. He was moaning softly, and still calling out, "Pat-Pat-" which only infuriated Tiffany, making her close her fingers tighter, wanting to drive the image of her stepmother from his mind, and somehow make him know it was not that woman who was sending chills of pleasure through his limbs . . . it was her, Tiffany.
Suddenly his movements stopped as he raised his hips and pushed his prick up into her hands, high, as it seemed to grow thicker, harder, and then Tiffany felt the end burst and streams of hot jism poured out, oozing down through her fingers. Her eyes opened wide, and in her mind she pictured the wide slit at the end of his cock spurting forth its load of cum, shooting load after load while her fingers held it tightly, still massaging the skin back and forth. He moaned loudly and then his body slumped, and she felt his prick begin softening. Almost too afraid to move, Tiffany lay still, her hand still enclosing the subsiding shaft, while she felt the warm stickiness dripping across her flesh. Then, with a grunt, he rolled over, away from her, and her hand was free.
Tiffany wiped her hand on the sheet and then brought it up to her nose, sniffing suspiciously at the musky odor. It was not unpleasant; in fact, it seemed to excite her even more, and she pushed her fingers into her cunt as far as she could, feeling the waves of sensation tingle through her. Her clitoris was hard to her touch. She massaged it again, harder, while she held her sticky fingers to her nose, savoring the smell of her father's cum. Ooooh, she breathed, so this is what it's like. That smell, that indefinable odor that sent an extra thrill through her. Then, almost as if she were floating off the bed, she felt an incredible sensation and her insides seemed to explode and she felt a warm trickle ooze down her canal and around her fingers, and she almost cried out from the sensation. Her body trembled and her heart pounded so hard she thought it would burst. Then the glorious feeling passed and she lay still.
She rolled over, snuggling up against her father's back, and slid her arm around him, letting her fingers creep between the opening of his pajama jacket and touch his bare flesh. Oh, what fantastic delight. . .
In minutes she was asleep.
CHAPTER TWO
"I just don't like her, that's why." Tiffany's words exploded across the breakfast table and she noticed a look of displeasure cross her father's face. Axel stared at her.
"Look, little sister." He only used that term when he was riled. "Sally's not only a goddamn good singer, but she's my chick. So you lay off, you hear."
Eliot managed a smile and took another sip of coffee.
"Tiffany, there's no sense pursuing the matter," he said decisively. "Sally's a member of the group. We don't need another singer."
"Especially not you," snapped Axel cuttingly. "You can't even sing."
"I can, too."
Eliot raised his hand. "Your sister may not sing as well as Sally," he remonstrated. "But sing she can. Certainly as good as half the chicks around today."
"Huh. That's what you think." Axel glared at his father, then turned his attention back to his food.
"I don't want to hear anything more about it," said Eliot with finality, "Sally's with the group, and it's Axel's group. He gets the singer he wants." He smiled at Tiffany. "Besides, you don't have the experience. Maybe in a few years, perhaps."
"Experience has nothing to do with it," Tiffany continued, her voice rising. "Everyone's got to start somewhere."
"Very well. You start with a voice coach," said Eliot. "And when you can deliver, maybe then I'll consider it. But not before. Okay?"
Tiffany sniffed and began eating her grapefruit.
"I really didn't know you were interested in joining the group," said Eliot after a pause, "I mean, when did this all start?"
"I've always wanted to," Tiffany said quietly. "I may not have talked about it, but I've always thought of it. You've been so tied up with Axel, you've probably not even thought about me."
"Tiffany!" Eliot's voice resounded off the wall. "I think about you every day. What's this nonsense?"
"I mean, about singing with the group," Tiffany said hastily. "Axel's the big star, so I guess it's understandable."
"Your brother is anything but a star, though we hope he will be," said her father. "But he's got talent and he's not afraid to work, and that's where it's at-work, work, and more work. Not so, Axel?" He smiled over at his son.
"Yeah. And Sally works, too. That's why she's so good."
Tiffany sneered. "If she weren't your chick, she wouldn't have got to first base."
"That's not so. She was singing with other groups long before she joined us. Before we started going together, too."
"All right, all right." Eliot pushed his chair back with a sigh of impatience. "I do wish you children would get along better."
"I'm not a child," she snapped. "And neither is Axel."
"Well, stop behaving like one, then."
Eliot walked out of the dining room, shaking his head sadly. Tiffany looked over at Axel; slowly their faces relaxed and -they grinned at each other.
"Don't make him mad, Tiff," said Axel, taking out a cigarette and lighting it with careless grace. "He's got a lot on his mind."
Tiffany giggled. "Oh, I know he's got a lot on his mind," she said softly. "But she's not here anymore, thank God."
Axel stared at his sister and his eyes narrowed.
"You really hate her, don't you?"
"Of course I do." She looked toward the door, and, making sure her father was out of earshot, she continued, her voice dropping. "I heard them in their room, Axel. They were fucking."
Axel broke into a short laugh. "So what? They're married."
"Yes, but it was awful."
"You're crazy. It's great. Wail till you start." He grinned. "Or perhaps you've already balled."
She flushed. "You know I haven't." She smiled eagerly. "But I sure want to start. I really want to, Axel. Remember how you said once you'd show me how?"
"Knock it off," he snapped, suddenly appalled at her suggestion. "Get yourself a boy friend."
"I'd rather have you, Axel. Come on, I won't be scared if it's with you. And I know you like to. Come on, Axel, please."
"You're a horny little one," he said humorously, reaching over and squeezing her arm, "I've got all I can handle with Sally."
"That doesn't make any difference. You could still show me, then I'll know what to do when I do get a boy friend."
"You're too much." He rose. "Come on, we've got a rehearsal. You coming?"
"Sure I'm coming," said Tiffany. "Maybe I'll ask your drummer to come home tonight," she added, pouting.
Axel laughed. "He wouldn't be interested. He's already got himself someone. And she's mighty groovy, too."
Tiffany pouted, and followed him out of the room and down the hallway. They paused, hearing their father's voice. They stopped, listening. From the study, Eliot's voice came, softly, but clearly.
"Of course I miss you, Pat."
Tiffany raised her eyebrows and snickered. "Long distance to California," she whispered. "Jeez . . . "
"No, I didn't. But I tell you I must have dreamed about you last night." There was a pause and then his rich voice laughed intimately. "Sure, all over my pajamas. You should've been with me. Look, I've got to go now. I'll call you tonight. Okay. I love you. Take care."
There was the sound of the receiver being replaced noisily in its cradle, and then footsteps; then Eliot appeared in the doorway.
"Oh, there you are," he said, smiling happily. "Pat sends her love. To both of you," he added, giving Tiffany a warm glance.
"Gee, thanks," she retorted. "You don't think she meant it?"
"Your stepmother may be sharp sometimes, but she does love you, Tiffany," said Eliot. "I wish you'd remember that."
"It's easier to remember that she doesn't show it," said Tiffany, moving toward the front door and grabbing her coat off a chair. Axel winked at Tiffany and they left the warmth of the house and plunged into the icy wind outside.
A few minutes later they were speeding down the expressway to downtown Chicago, Tiffany cosily squeezed between her father and her brother, feeling with a certain erotic satisfaction the pressure of their legs against her own, reminding her of the night before and the feel of her father's cockflesh beneath her searching fingers.
She glanced up at him, thinking again how handsome he was, and wondering how she would be able to manage things that night. He had said little when they awoke. He had been over on the far side of the bed, and she had been lying on her back, one arm thrown carelessly across the pillow, touching his hair. He had looked so innocent asleep. But it was not his innocence that attracted her; she knew now what it was between his legs that made Patricia so wild for him, and she wanted the feeling once more, to enclose that shaft of his within her hands, within her body. Yes, she had to have him, totally, the way Patricia had two nights before, wrapping her legs around his hips and thrusting her crotch to meet his, with that magnificent prick forging a passionate link between their bodies. Tiffany had lain still, watching him until moments later, he opened his eyes and stared vaguely around the room. Then he saw her, and smiled, stretching out his arm to enclose her in it and hug her good morning. He had kissed her very perfunctorily, and she had tried to cling, to hold their mouths together, hoping to perhaps excite him. But he had brushed her away and made his way to the bathroom before she could fasten her arms around his neck. No matter; there would be another time. Hopefully that night.
"You want to stay for the rehearsal?" Axel was talking to her, and Tiffany nodded. "Yes," she answered, smiling, "I want to see how good that chick of yours is. Haven't heard her in ages."
"You heard her a month ago," said Eliot. "And I don't want you getting prissy with Sally, young woman. No friction, please, especially not with the group. This engagement means a lot of Axel's future."
"I'm not going to cause trouble," said Tiffany in a plaintive voice, summoning all her reserves of injured innocence. "I just want to watch, to listen. Maybe I'll pick up some pointers. Like you said, I need experience."
"That's for sure, but you don't get it from watching," said Axel tartly.
"I disagree," said Eliot, swerving suddenly to avoid a car changing lanes beside them. "You can learn a lot from watching performers. Gestures. Deportment. Expression. Everything. It'll do Tiffany a lot of good to watch."
"See." Tiffany stuck her tongue out playfully at her brother, who grinned back at her and bent forward, nuzzling her. "I'll learn by watching."
Axel touched her ear with his mouth and murmured devilishly, "Maybe I'll let you watch us screw sometime, huh?" and then laughed loudly at her expression of feigned horror.
"What was that?" asked Eliot suspiciously.
"Nothing," said Tiffany quickly, glaring at her brother, who could recognize the flash of hopeful anticipation in her eyes. Tiffany's heart beat faster at the thought, and she considered Axel's remark a hopeful indication of cooperation in a plan she had already been formulating. A plan that involved not only her father, but Axel as well . . .
She pressed her knee against his and felt the answering nudge; their eyes met and she grinned impishly at him.
"I'm sure Axel can teach me a lot," she said.
"Of course he can," replied her father, his eyes on the road ahead. "He's very experienced for his age."
Axel turned away, staring out the window to hide his face which threatened to explode in hysterical laughter, while Tiffany giggled to herself.
"That was great, but Axel, you've got to give more at the end." Eliot's eyes were stern as he faced his son. "That last chorus, step forward, away from the group. Leave your guitar. Take the mike and come forward, out to the audience. Give it to them, son. Give them everything. Use your body. Remember the way Tom Jones gets those screams. It's those tight pants and the way he bumps and grinds and what he's showing. Well, show us what you've got. That's what gets the crowd, believe me." He stared at Axel's crotch and grinned. "You've got more than enough to show, son. Use it."
Axel laughed. "I know, I know. I was holding back. I'll sock it to 'em all right."
"He knows how to," came Sally's voice from the back of the group where she was sitting, sipping a Coke. She tossed her long blonde hair and grinned.
"That's enough out of you, chick," said Axel, turning and winking at her. She stuck out her tongue, licking her lips suggestively at him.
Tiffany caught the momentary exchange and she seethed. She had never cared for Sally, not out of a sense of jealousy, but merely from the girl's blatant sensuality and her obvious attachment to Axel. They worked well together, their voices blending and their appearances matching, complementing each other. And now the way she had licked her lips sent a perverse thrill through Tiffany; she had heard one of the girls at school once talking about kissing her boy friend between his legs. Tiffany knew now that was what Sally must do to Axel; she must kiss his-his cock. She thrilled at the thought, and wondered what it was like. Maybe she would watch, like Axel had said. She knew it was more than a passing remark. He had always been daring. Once in the middle of the swimming pool, he had pulled off his trunks and floated naked in front of her, his prick bobbing on top of the water while she had stared, fascinated. She knew it would happen now-she would watch him balling Sally.
Maybe she could even join in . . .
"All right, that's it for now." Eliot's voice rang out firmly, and the band began to drift away from the stage. They had been rehearsing solidly for four hours. The sweat streamed down their faces, and they were all obviously tired. Only Axel seemed to maintain his calm appearance, his constant cool, that look of boyish virility and complete control.
Eliot walked back down to the auditorium and sat next to Tiffany, going through some notes on his clipboard. Finally he turned and smiled at her.
"Well, ready for a late lunch?"
"Sure. I'm starving. But it's almost dinner time."
"Whatever. Let's go eat." Eliot checked his watch. "Good grief, it's three-thirty. I had no idea."
"Are we coming back here?"
"No. That's it for today. We'll have a final run through tomorrow and then-" He rubbed his hands gleefully together. "The big night. I think Axel's going to be great, don't you?"
"He's always great," she said, meaning it. "He just gets better every time."
"He's very talented," Eliot sai" seriously. "Oh, Tiffany." His face became serious. "About what you said earlier. About joining the group. Did you really mean that?"
"Sure. You know I've always wanted to."
"Well, sweetheart, I'm not against it, but if you're serious we'll talk some more when we get home again. There's a good voice coach I know, and you can start lessons and then after a while, we'll perhaps let you sit in with the group at rehearsals. How's that?"
Tiffany's eyes glowed. "Oh, Daddy. You mean that?"
He nodded. "Of course I do." She flung her arms round his neck and kissed him, not the flat, child kisses of previous years, but a wet, prolonged lip-licking contact that made him draw back.
"Okay, okay," he said nervously. "Tiffany, that's not the sort of kiss that.. . " His voice trailed off, and she stared at him, her eyes still sparkling, her mouth twitching at the corners with undisguised delight.
"What's the matter?"
"Nothing," he replied shortly, and grabbing his clipboard, he moved away, "Come on, let's go eat. Axel's ready."
She followed Eliot up the aisle into the lobby of the auditorium, where Axel and Sally were standing talking with the four other members of the group.
"See you kids tomorrow," said Eliot. "Go back to your hotel and get some rest. You'll need it. And no late nights, remember." He winked at Sally. "And don't go sitting in with any groups tonight. Save yourself for the big event."
"Don't worry," she replied crisply, "I can take care of myself."
"Yes, I'm sure," Eliot said, grinning. "Come on, Axel."
Together they all left the lobby and emerged into the snow-flecked wintry scene outside. Sally had her arm tightly around Axel, and bent closer as the wind hit their bodies. She whispered in his ear; he grinned and then turned to Eliot.
"Dad, I think I'll pass on the lunch. How 'bout seeing you all later, huh?"
There was a look of impish lechery in his eyes and Sally giggled. Eliot attempted a disapproving glance, but said nothing. He paused, thinking. "Tell you what," he said finally. "I do have to check with the newspapers and it might be best if I go in person instead of calling. Why don't you kids go back to the hotel, grab a bite and I'll see you there later."
The look of obvious pleasure on Axel's face was almost too much; he grinned and nodded. "Come on, guys," he said blithely. "I'll buy the lunch. Come on, Tiff." He put his arm around his sister, the other already around Sally, and they rushed down the sidewalk, leaving Eliot staring after them with vague misgivings.
The door of Sally's hotel room banged open and Axel stumbled in, following by Tiffany and Sally. They were all giggling loudly.
"Wow, that was some lunch," he said, collapsing on the couch and staring up at the two girls, "Come here, chicky," he said and Sally went to him eagerly, embracing him passionately, their lips blending, licking. Tiffany turned away, and walked over to the window, staring down at the street, by now almost covered with a soft white carpet of snow. Her ears burned at the heated sounds from the couch.
"How long do you think Daddy'll be?" Tiffany said, finally unable to bear the sound of her brother's subdued passions.
"He said an hour or two, which means three," said Axel, breaking away from Sally's eager lips and pulling her next to him on the couch, where she lay, her fingers gliding sensuously over his arms. "Maybe you want to take in a movie, Tiff? There's one a block away."
"No, thanks. I think I'll just stay here with you." Tiffany's eyes twinkled. "I'm sure we can find something to do."
Sally giggled and kissed Axel on the cheek quickly. "I know what I want to do," she said softly. Axel looked at her and kissed her forehead. "I know," he said. "Later for you."
"No, now," she said, "Tiffany, you can go visit with the guys in their room. Or go read a magazine. Or something," she added with an impatient sigh.
"Axel and I want to be alone."
"I know what you want to do," said Tiffany with a hint of lust in her voice. "So I'm staying."
"Maybe she wants to watch," giggled Sally.
"I'll watch," said Tiffany, plumping into a chair. "Axel said he'd let me sometime. Why not now?"
Axel shook his head and grinned. "I was kidding, little sister," he said quietly. "Go on, why don't you go into the guys' room. You can play cards with them. They're card freaks."
"Thanks a lot. I'm staying here."
Sally and Axel exchanged a glance.
"Okay, if that's the way you're going to be."
Tiffany jumped up and came across, dropping to her knees in front of her brother, her face shining eagerly. "Come on, Axel. You said I could watch. I want to. I want to see how you fuck."
Sally broke into a loud peal of laughter. "Jesus, she's too much," she said. "Don't tell me you don't know?"
"She's only thirteen," said Axel. "Not an old woman like you."
Sally frowned. "I'm only twenty, goddammit," she snapped, "so cut that kind of talk." She looked at Tiffany again. "You really don't know, do you?"
Tiffany flushed. "No," she said. "But I want to find out. Axel said-"
"I know what I said," her brother interrupted her impatiently. "But I was kidding. You know that."
"But I wasn't," said Tiffany.
They glared at each other for a moment. Sally moved away across the couch and began peeling off her sweater. Axel frowned.
"What do you think you're doing?"
"She says she wants to find out. Let's play teacher," she said. "I'm not bashful." The sweater dropped to the floor. "Besides, I get a kick out of threesomes."
"This is not going to be a threesome," snapped Axel. "I don't fuck with my sister."
"But she obviously wants to," said Sally, eyeing Tiffany, who was watching, her heart pounding with anticipation. "Don't you, Tiffany?"
"Sure," said Tiffany, "I got to find out sometime. Why not with my brother? What's the difference?"
"Yeah, what's the difference? Cock's cock," said Sally bluntly, beginning to loosen her shoes.
Axel stood up and walked over to the window, his hands ruffling his hair in exasperation. "Listen, knock if off, Sally," he said. "I don't dig the idea. Not any more."
"You're always in the mood," she replied. "And Tiffany wants to watch. I say let her. Don't tell me you're chicken?"
"I'm not chicken," he snapped, turning angrily on her. "But I like to fuck in private, and you know it."
"Tough," she replied, reaching under her skirt and starting to wiggle out of her pantyhose. "We're gonna have a ball, so you may as well get used to the idea. If you don't want to," she added with an evil leer, "I'll ball Tiffany."
"Like hell you will," snapped Axel. "I don't go for that queer shit."
Sally giggled loudly. "Oh, dear, you can be so moralistic sometimes," she sighed. "Just give you another few years, baby."
Tiffany walked over to her brother and fondled his arm gently.
"Please, Axel," she said, and then, almost as if she had no control over herself, she found her hand reaching out and touching him between his thighs, her fingers closing around the prick behind his zipper. He jumped away.
"Tiffany!"
She giggled, her inhibitions suddenly abandoned.
"Come on, what's the matter? I just want to-"
"You quit that!" His voice echoed off the walls and his face flushed with embarrassment. Then he looked over at Sally, who was peeling off her dress. "Hey, Sally."
"You can't stop us both from getting undressed, Axel," she said. "So come on, Tiffany. Take your things off. He can't do much if we both tackle him. How 'bout it?"
Tiffany was seized with a sudden and tingling excitement; a desire to throw all caution to the winds; to experience what she had imagined so often; what she had fantasized on during her moments of masturbation in bed at night. In a flash she saw her brother, naked, on the floor with her and Sally leaning over his cock, touching, feeling, kissing, fondling . . .
"Yes!" The word exploded from her lips and she ran across the room, sitting on the couch quickly and tearing at her clothes. Axel stood, his eyes wide and incoherent sounds of disapproval issuing from his lips. Sally's last garment dropped and she stood up, her breasts jutting forward enticingly, her naked flesh smooth and appealing. Slowly she moved toward him, a knowing smile on her face.
"You're not going to turn it down, are you, baby?" she said seductively, moving her hips. His eyes were glued on the pussy between her thighs, and he licked his lips.
"For chrissake," he snapped, turned, and began undressing quickly with trembling fingers.
"That's better," said Sally, turning and looking over at Tiffany, who was almost totally undressed. "We're gonna have a ball, baby. And little sister's going to learn what it's all about, huh?" She walked over and grinned. "Hey, whatddya know? She's got tits."
Tiffany stared down at herself, suddenly proud of the fact that her chest was anything but flat. She looked up at Sally, admiring the beautifully rounded breasts that stood out, their nipples pointing proudly. She let her eyes stray down and focus on her pussy and she found her heart beating wildly. A second later she was naked and she stood up, her hands trembling. She looked over at Axel, whose shorts had just dropped to the floor. As he turned, she noticed with a thrill that his cock was already half hard.
"Okay, lover boy, come over here," said Sally. "You're gonna get a workout."
Slowly Axel walked forward, reaching for her, but Sally backed away, pointing to the couch. "Down, Fido," she commanded with a smile. "I'm taking charge. Tiffany, lesson number one." As Axel lay down on the couch, Sally knelt before him and reached for his prick. "This, little sister, is a cock," she said, her fingers wrapping around the hardening flesh and squeezing softly. "Also called a prick. A rod. Or if you want to be technical, a penis." She laughed.
"That feel good, honey?" Sally murmured, feeling the firmness jerk beneath her fingers, "Don't you come too soon, now, you hear?" She turned back to Tiffany. "Come have a feel, baby. He's hard as a rock. That's the way it gets, so it can push into that tight little cunt between your legs."
Almost disbelieving the moment, Tiffany reached forward, her hand touching her brother's legs and then sliding up to enclose his prick in her fingers. She thrilled at the thickness, the length, and her mind went back to her father. Axel's cock was almost as big as Eliot's.
"Feel good, huh?" Sally grinned. "Okay, now you gotta get him real hot, and there's only one way to do that. You gotta go down and kiss it. Like this."
She pushed Tiffany's hand away, and her mouth descended, her lips circling the flesh. Tiffany gasped as she saw her brother's organ disappear into Sally's mouth, saw the girl's lips slide down, down-until she had taken the entire length and her lips were touching his balls. Up and down, up and down . . . while Axel groaned and closed his eyes, stretching his body out, pushing his hips up, pressing his prick deeper into the willing mouth, feeling the end of his cock thrust into the tight smooth throat, sending chills of delight through his body. "Oooooh, suck it good, baby," he muttered.
Sally's fingers slid up his thighs, gently caressing him, then enclosing his balls and rotating them in her fingers. Tiffany watched, her mind cataloguing the actions, noting every movement, everything that Sally was doing to bring forth those delicious moans from Axel.
She felt she wanted to do it, to bring her brother to the same peak of glorious feeling.
"Sally."
She raised up and grinned. "You want to try it, huh?"
Tiffany nodded. "Yes, yes, let me."
"Be my guest."
Her hands trembling, Tiffany moved forward, her hands reaching for the slick, shiny cock. She touched it, and then slowly, feeling that it was all a dream, a wonderful dream, Tiffany lowered her head and touched the end of the throbbing prick to her lips. She let her tongue trail across the end, feeling the wide slit from which something wet, warm and musky was oozing.
"Go down on it, baby, all the way."
Axel thrust his hips up and Tiffany felt his cock slide between her lips, into her mouth, the folds of skin sliding back all the way, and then the length was all the way in, the end of it banging against her throat. She almost gagged, but pulled up.
"Easy, don't choke yourself," said Sally, giggling. "You gotta lick it like an ice cream cone, baby. Especially under the head. Here."
She pulled Tiffany up and grabbed the throbbing prick, pointing to the shiny area just under the head.
"See that spot. You lick the hell out of that and he'll climb the walls."
Tiffany lowered her mouth and let her tongue trail across the underside of the head. She felt the cockshaft jerk and Axel let out a soft moan.
"Now take it all, lick around the head," commanded Sally.
Tiffany lowered her mouth, taking the wonderful thickness between her lips and let her tongue lick back and forth, around, pressing in the cockslit. She felt her own cunt burning with desire, and she knew her folds of pussyflesh between her legs were wet, dripping. She thrilled to the total aura of sensuousness that pervaded her limbs, blowing her mind. This was the moment she had dreamed of for so long and now it was happening.
"Suck it good," Axel said, his voice almost inaudible, but throbbing with passion. "Oh, Christ, that's great."
His words spurred Tiffany on. She tightened her lips around the shaft, and started moving it up and down, blending her movements with those of his own as he moved his hips, thrusting his prick in and out. Sally was sitting back at the end of the couch, watching, her hand between her legs, gently masturbating herself, her fingers touching her clitoris and sending chills of pleasure through her body.
"Yeah, baby, yeah," she said eagerly. "Jeez, she's a born cocksucker, Axel. Lookit her go!"
Axel opened his eyes and stared down, seeing his sister's hair cascading around his crotch as her mouth worked over his prick, and her hands caressed his stomach, his thighs, his balls.
"She really digs it!" Sally cried ecstatically. "Here, you can give me a little, baby."
She scooted forward, standing up and putting her knee on one side of his chest, then lowering her steaming pussy over his face so that his eager tongue extended into her.
Axel's hands gripped Sally's buttocks, pulling her to him, while from his throat came little grunts of pleasure as he buried his face in her snatch, his tongue probing her, licking her warm, wet flesh, touching her clitoris and flicking across it with practiced ease, his nostrils filling with the sweet odor of her cunt.
Tiffany looked up and saw what was happening. She leaned forward, looking over Sally's shoulder at her brother eating her cunt. Tiffany gasped.
"Oooh," she cried.
"It's good, baby, you want some?" said Sally, her body moving back and forth with passion. "Come on, Axel, give her a little."
Sally moved off, but Tiffany shook her head.
"Come on. It's the best thing next to a cock up your cunt."
Axel looked at his sister and grinned. "Yeah, come here, Tiff. Let me lick that cherry."
As if moving in a dream, Tiffany positioned herself across his chest, felt his firm, strong hands grab her buttocks and pull her toward him. Then his mouth touched her labia.
"Oh, wow, what a sweet pussy," he said. "Hardly a hair in sight. It's beautiful!"
His tongue pushed between her steaming cunt flesh and she shuddered with delight as she felt the tip touch her clitoris, excite it far more than she had even felt before with her own finger. Instinctively she moved her hips forward, and she heard Sally laugh.
"Oh, she digs it!"
Tiffany stared down, almost disbelieving her eyes. She saw Axel's handsome face pressed between her legs, his lips touching her cunt, his tongue pushing in, licking her frantically, giving her sensations she had never thought possible. She felt she was floating, leaving her body, drifting in a sea of pure pleasure. She groaned and closed her eyes, savoring the moment of exquisite delight.
"Okay, that's enough of that," said Sally. "Next lesson coming up before he does."
Tiffany climbed off. Sally moved in, sliding up against Axel, her body stretched full length, covering him. "See how to get it in real easy," said Sally, giggling. "You just sit on it, baby, and let it slide all the way in." Tiffany watched as Sally raised her hips, positioning the end of Axel's prick against her cunt and then lowering slowly, letting it slide into her. Axel groaned. His arms held Sally tightly, enclosing her, and his hips began thrusting up and down. Tiffany moved around to the end of the couch, fascinated as she saw the enormous cock enter, its whiteness gleaming with slick secretions. Axel's balls jiggling with each movement, and Sally's buttocks roundly gleaming in the soft light. Sally began rotating her hips, her movements blending with his, faster, faster, their moans getting louder.
"Don't you come, you fucker," snapped Sally, the sweat streaming down her body. "Make it last."
Tiffany found her hand straying onto her own pussy, her fingers massaging her clitoris, touching the spot where Axel's tongue had just been, and sending chills through her once more. All the more with the sight of her brother locked in with Sally, his prick pounding in and out of her cunt, their moans of ecstasy filling the room and sounding like a symphony of sex. Suddenly Tiffany was filled with an overwhelming desire to feel her brother within her, to enclose that lovely prick in her, to experience fully what it was like.
"Hey," her voice sounded like someone else. "Let me." Her hand reached out and tried to pull at Sally's shoulder. Sally turned, frowned, and then grinned.
"Okay, baby doll," she said, raising up and letting the firm prick slide out of her. "Climb on."
Axel shook his head. "She's cherry," he said gruffly. "I ain't gonna bust her."
"You'll bust her and you'll love it, just like she will," said Sally. "Come on, Tiffany, you're gonna become a woman."
She moved off and Tiffany scooted forward. Axel raised up, pushing her away. "No, Tiffany," he said weakly, but she leaned forward, her weight covering him, and then she grabbed his cock and guided it toward her cunt, wet and dripping with her own juices. She felt the end touch her, slide in. Sally dropped to her knees and moved closer, watching.
"Yeah, yeah, it's in, now all the way. Bust that cherry!"
Tiffany felt the cock inside her, slide in, then stop, and she felt a sharp pain. She pulled up, gasping.
"Go, go," screamed Sally. "Once it's in, you'll feel great."
She jumped to her feet, placed her hands on Tiffany's shoulders and pushed down. Her weight was too much; Tiffany felt the cock slide in and then, with a sudden thrust, it broke through and lunged deep into her. Tiffany cried out, feeling like something had torn inside her. Then a deep glow, an incredible satisfaction began spreading through her, like never before.
"Oooooooh, Axel-" she moaned, and automatically began moving her hips up and down.
Axel grabbed her tightly, his hips moving. "I'm coming, I'm coming, Jesus . . . "
"Shot, shoot in her," Sally said. "Give it to her."
"No, I can't," he cried. "I ain't gonna knock her up."
With a massive thrust, he lifted Tiffany up and pushed her to the side as his prick slid out of her. Then Axel moaned loudly and Tiffany's eyes widened as she saw his cock flex, jerk, and out came spurts of thick white cum, shooting up, hitting her stomach, hitting her arm, and then slowly just oozing out of the end and running down into the dark hairs around the base of his prick.
"You came," said Sally, leaning forward, her mouth eagerly licking the warm cum from around his cock. Tiffany stared, hardly believing her eyes. "Never waste a drop," said Sally, her tongue taking up every last drop of cum, then enclosing the softening cock and drawing out the remainder from within. Then she leaned back, licked her lips and grinned.
"Now you know, huh?"
Tiffany scooted over to the end of the couch and stared down at herself. The fleeting pain had passed, and only the warm glow remained.
"I thought you bled when that happened," she said in a small voice.
"Not always," said Sally. "I didn't. Only some girls."
"Was it good?" asked Axel, staring at his sister.
"Oh, Axel, it was wonderful," cried Tiffany, flinging herself on top of him, embracing him and kissing him passionately, her tongue pushing into his mouth and licking him frantically. They broke apart and Axel stared at Sally.
"Keerist, she's as horny as I am," he said, grinning. "Maybe I'll fuck her again."
"Now, now," said Tiffany as she looked at his prick across his leg, soft and shiny, the skin oozing back over the head. "When'll it get hard again?"
"Just as soon as you start playing with it," said Axel.
"Playing, shit," snapped Sally. "Suck it, baby. That's the best part of all."
She lowered her head and took his soft cock in her mouth. Axel kissed Tiffany again, and she felt the thrill in her loins once more.
"Oh, yes," she breathed as they broke apart. "Let's just stay here and fuck all afternoon."
Sally laughed. "Now you know," she said.
"Yes. Now I know," said Tiffany, and her mind was suddenly filled once more with the image of her father on top of her, his prick driving into her, bringing her to the same heights of indescribable passion that she had felt moments before with Axel. "Now I know, and it's-it's wonderful!"
Axel looked at Sally and they both burst out laughing.
"Nothin' better'n sex," he said softly. "Especially with a horny little sister."
CHAPTER THREE
"You're very quiet, Tiffany."
Eliot took his eyes off the road for a moment to smile down at his daughter. She grinned back at him. "Just thinking," she said.
Yes, she was thinking all right. Ever since she had left the hotel, she had only one thought-she knew. At last she knew what fucking was all about-how to do it-what to do-and she had loved every second of the experience.
She pictured her father's prick sliding into her; she felt his arms embrace her; she felt the thrill almost as strongly as if it were actually happening. And that night she felt it would happen. She would fuck him. She would creep into Eliot's bed once more, only this time . . .
"You tired, maybe?"
Tiffany shook her head.
"You look like you are."
Axel laughed. "I'm tired," he confessed. "Hell, that was some rehearsal."
"And there'll be another tomorrow," said Eliot.
"Oh, come on," wailed Axel. "Tomorrow night's the concert."
"I'm quite aware of that, Axel. Which is the reason we're having the rehearsal." Eliot glanced quickly at the tired face of his son. "You've got a lot hanging on this appearance. I don't want you to blow it. You've got to be good, from the way you look to the way you walk, move, sing-perform. Everything has to be perfect. That's the only way you're going to make it, son."
"Shit." Axel stared out the car window gloomily. "I know you're right, Dad, but.. . "
"Nothing comes easy," continued Eliot. "And if you think you're going to make it to Vegas as a headliner, you've got to rehearse, and rehearse, and rehearse.. . " His voice trailed off. Then he laughed softly. "Anyway, at least you've got what it takes. I know that with the right handling, you'll be a star, Axel. Once you've made it you can relax a little. But 'til then . . . " He shrugged.
Axel roared. "Jesus. Now I've heard everything. I've got a square for a father."
"I may be square when it comes to rehearsing," replied Eliot calmly. "But you can't say I'm not just as up to date as you are in other things. Like sex, f r instance," he added with a twinkle in his eyes. "I know you and Sally are shacking, but I don't preach about that, do I?"
"It wouldn't do you any good if you did."
"I know. So I keep my mouth shut."
Tiffany stared up at Eliot impishly. "What's the difference when Axel has sex with Sally and you have it with Patricia?" she asked.
Eliot flushed. "Patricia and I are married," he said shortly, feeling a hot flush creep up his neckline.
"That doesn't mean anything," she replied dogmatically. "You were sleeping with her before you got married."
"Adults do things differently," Eliot replied awkwardly, wishing he hadn't brought up the subject. "You'll find that out when you're a little older, Tiffany."
"I'm old enough." Tiffany was about to continue when she felt Axel's knee against her own and, turning, she saw a warning glance in his eyes. "I mean-well, I mean I know what sex is all about, and I don't think you should have to wait if you don't want to. I bet you were having sex when you were my age."
"If I was, it didn't mean that it was right," snapped Eliot, suddenly becoming rather annoyed at the conversation. "And as far as I'm concerned, boys start earlier than girls. Besides, it doesn't make much difference to a boy. But with a girl, once she'd had it, she's-"
"She's had it," finished Tiffany, giggling suddenly. Turning to Axel, they burst into loud laughter. Eliot stared at them uncomprehendingly, then the infectious laughter sparked his own sense of humor, and he joined in.
"Well, at least we can laugh about it," he concluded.
"You're a gas," said Axel, nudging Tiffany, who dissolved into another hysterical outburst.
She was still laughing as the car turned into the wide driveway leading to the house.
The butler came into the library and stood respectfully at the door. "Will there be anything else, Mr. Cartwright?" he asked.
"No, that'll be all, thanks," said Eliot, glancing up from the papers on the desk. "Unless the kids want anything. Axel . . . Tiffany?" He glanced over at them inquiringly.
"Nothing for me," said Tiffany.
"Nope." Axel shook his head.
"Well, good night." The butler withdrew and Eliot sighed and stretched back in his chair. He grinned over at Axel.
"Tomorrow's the great day," he said. "How do you feel?"
Axel smiled confidently. "I'm gonna be great," he said. "But I won't be unless I get some sleep. I'm bushed."
"I think we all are. It's been a hectic day."
Eliot rose and began walking to the door.
Tiffany approached him, and put her arm around his waist. He smiled down at her. "How's my best girl?" he said. "You bushed, too."
"Sort of."
They ascended the stairs and Axel went to his room, and Eliot and Tiffany entered the master bedroom. "You finish with the bathroom and then I'm going to soak in the tub," he told her. "I think I got a little chill today. I want to lay in the hot water for a while."
Tiffany looked up at her father with what she felt was her most seductive expression. "Your back sore?"
"A little."
"Okay, I'll rub it for you."
"Off to bed with you, little lady."
"No, come on, Daddy. I haven't washed your back in the tub in so long."
He stared affectionately down at her, and tweaked her nose. "I know. But you're a big girl now. I think you're a little old for that."
"That's not what you said in the car. You said I was still young-"
"Tiffany!" His voice interrupted her sharply. "Bedtime." He bent down and kissed her forehead quickly. "Scat."
He pointed through the bathroom toward her room. Tiffany stood, pouting, then she shrugged, and walked slowly through the bathroom and slammed the connecting door behind her. She sat down on the edge of her bed, her mind teeming. If he was going to take a bath, that would be a perfect way to start something. She knew he liked to soak in the tub, and she pictured herself sitting between his legs, and-
"Tiffany."
She started and looked up. The door had opened silently, and her father was standing before her, frowning.
"What, Daddy."
"Are you mad."
"No."
"Then why slam the door?"
"I didn't slam the door. I just closed it. It slammed by itself." She stared innocently up at him, and his face softened.
"Oh. All right."
"Don't get mad at me, Daddy."
"I'm not mad at you, sweetheart."
"Then can I come and wash your back like I used to?"
She stared at him, putting every ounce of her feeling into her eyes. Please, Daddy, please . . . I want to.. . I want to sit in that bath with you . . . I want to.. .
Eliot shook his head hopelessly and grinned. "Oh, all right, I suppose so."
He turned away before he could catch her look of instant excitement. He had agreed! Oh, wow . . .
With her heart throbbing so hard she felt it might choke her, Tiffany began undressing, knowing that in the other room her father was doing the same thing. She pictured him removing his shirt, then his pants, his shoes and socks, his T-shirt, then his shorts . . . and standing naked, with that wonderful, thick, long prick hanging loosely between his muscular legs, swinging back and forth with every movement, looking so wonderfully enticing. She remembered him from the last time she had washed his back, only he had always let her in the tub after he had soaped himself enough to make the water cloudy, and had always sat forward, his hips well hidden under the water. But now, it was going to be different. Oh, yes, it would be so different.
She heard him pad softly into the bathroom and a moment later, the water splashed from the faucets and the roar of the fast-falling streams matched the blood pounding through her veins. She'd better wait, she thought. Wait till he fills the tub and gets in-then she would make her entrance. Yes, what an entrance she would make. Should she wear her robe and then take it off before him, like a stripper? Or should she walk in naked and just behave like she used to when she was younger, before she had felt this irrepressible urge toward him? She glanced nervously toward the bathroom, then, with a quick jerk, she pulled off the remainder of her clothes and reached for her robe in the closet. She had decided on the stripper routine.
The noise of the water indicated that the tub was almost filled, and she heard her father testing it, splashing his hands around in it. She pictured him standing naked beside the tub, bending over, letting those big balls and cock dangle down. What would he do if she came up behind him and grabbed him? She giggled at the thought, a quick, nervous giggle, and then stopped, realizing that her hands were trembling. Impatiently she approached the bathroom door, thrusting her hands into the pockets of her robe, hoping that her smile would be all he would notice. If he saw her hands shaking, he might suspect something. And he mustn't suspect anything. It must all happen innocently, naturally, like she was a little girl again, just eagerly experimenting. And what's wrong with a little girl getting in the bath with her father? They had done it for years.
She paused, her heart jumping with the sudden silence that descended as Eliot turned off the water. A moment later she heard the splash as he climbed in and lowered himself into the water. She heard his sigh of pleasure as he leaned back, letting his limbs relax in the warmth. Let him relax a moment, she thought. . .
"Tiffany."
"Yes?"
"Are you coming in or aren't you."
"I'm here."
Summoning her waning courage, Tiffany walked into the bathroom in her robe, and turned, hanging it up behind the door, then facing him. She noticed with a glow of satisfaction that his eyes ran quickly over her body and then looked away.
"It's kinda hot. Be careful getting in."
"Well, scoot forward and I'll get in behind you.
Was his voice unnaturally gruff, she thought, as she lifted her leg over the edge of the tub and felt the hot water enclose her toes. She gasped. It was hot. No matter. She slid in slowly behind him, and leaned back for a moment before reaching for the soap.
She let her hands linger briefly on his shoulders, then began rubbing the soap across, kneading his muscles with her small fingers. She felt him shudder a moment and then relax.
"That feel good?"
"Uh-huh." Eliot dropped his head and closed his eyes, savoring the sensuous touch of her fingers on his tired flesh.
Tiffany placed the soap back in the receptacle in the wall, and began rubbing the suds back and forth, up and down. "Lean forward, Daddy," she said firmly, her nervousness suddenly evaporating beneath a burgeoning self-confidence. Now she was actually in the tub with him. She began enjoying herself. She shifted her legs so that they slid down beside him and she pressed on his shoulders, letting her fingers dig in, sliding up around his neck, caressing, pressing, hoping that her burning desire would transmit itself through her touch, and make him realize what it was she really wanted.
"You've sure got a lovely tan," she murmured.
"Hm. It won't last long if we stay up here."
"But we're going back this week, you said."
"I know."
"You miss Patricia, Daddy."
"Of course I miss her, sweetheart."
"But you've got me and Axel."
"Tiffany, I love you both. You know that. But the love I feel for Patricia is different."
"Love's love."
"Well, be that as it may, I still miss Patricia."
"I don't."
"Let's not talk about it, huh."
"All right."
She noted that his breathing had become deeper, heavier, and she wondered: Is he getting excited? Is the magic working? Are my fingers doing their job right?
"Lean back a little, Daddy. I can't reach around your shoulders." Eliot sighed and let his body rest back against her, and Tiffany tingled with anticipation. She let her hands enclose his round, firm shoulder muscles, and slid them down over his biceps and reached for his forearms.
"That feel good?"
"Of course it does."
"Does Patricia rub your back this good?" He cleared his throat. "I said let's not talk about her."
Tiffany giggled. "I bet you do more than have your back washed when she gets in the tub with you."
Eliot started. "Tiffany. Another remark like that and you'll get turned over my knee. You're not too old for that."
Tiffany giggled. "I'm sorry."
"I should hope so. You may not like your stepmother, but she loves you and I wish you'd be nicer to her. For my sake, if nothing more."
"Okay. I'll try." Tiffany observed with relief that he relaxed again. She leaned forward and saw his eyes were closed. She stared down and with a sudden thrill she saw his prick between his legs. It was stretched out, waving slowly back and forth in the water, and it certainly didn't look soft. Maybe he was excited and just didn't want her to know it. Maybe . . .
"I need some more soap."
Tiffany reached for the soap, rubbed it perfunctorily over his shoulders and then, with a feigned expression of annoyance, she let it slip and fall across his chest, down . . . down . . . "Oh, dam," she muttered, and reaching under his armpit, she fumbled around on his stomach, then, almost as if she felt something was pushing her hand forward, she reached down and felt her fingers close around his penis. And it was hard. Or slightly hard. Not rock-hard like Axel's had been that afternoon. But it certainly wasn't soft.
Eliot's eyes blinked open in alarm and he sat up with a jerk, and Tiffany's fingers were pried loose.
"Tiffany!"
"I was feeling for the soap, Daddy. It fell down there."
"Here."
Eliot reached between his legs and handed her the soap. He glanced at her and saw that her eyes were staring at him and there was a smile on her lips.
"You've sure got a big one, Daddy."
"You leave him alone," he said gruffly. "You know what happens if you touch him."
"He gets hard, doesn't he?"
"He does, and that's not anything you should do."
"Why not? I thought it felt good."
"Tiffany, you can ask the darnedest questions."
"I just want to know, Daddy. And you've never felt funny about that before."
Eliot cleared his throat. "You were younger then. Now-" His voice trailed off as he felt a familiar tingle in his groin and the slow flooding of desire within him. "Tiffany, I think you'd better get out and dry off. That felt good, baby. Thanks for the rub."
"Oh, I'm not through yet," she replied quickly. "I'll wash the rest of you."
"NO!"
His voice exploded, not with anger, but more with anguish and concern. His prick, slowly rising, had become a source of painful embarrassment to him. The touch of her small lingers around the shaft had triggered his normally virile responses. He knew in a few seconds he would have a roaring hard-on.
"Come on, Daddy." Tiffany's voice was insistent.
"NO! Now you get out and dry yourself."
Reluctantly Tiffany stood up and slid one leg over the edge of the tub. Her eyes were glued to her father's body, to that enticing tangle of hair below his navel where, she could see quite plainly, his prick had expanded, and was now sticking up out of the water. Her heart beat faster and she felt herself trembling again, not with fear, but with a rising sense of anticipation. She turned, standing naked before him, and staring down at him. His eyes met hers and she smiled at him. Before he could reach out to stop her, she had dropped to her knees and extended her hand, gripping his prick once more and squeezing it.
"Tiffany!"
"Oh, Daddy, it's hard. It's real hard. And so big."
His hand came forward, taking her arm and moving it away, and her fingers slid enticingly off his shaft, leaving the tingle even more insistent in his groin, and the erotic thoughts in his mind even stronger.
"Tiffany, that's not something you play with."
"But I want to, Daddy. I want to. Please. It feels good, I know. Come on."
Impulsively, she climbed over the edge of the tub, between his legs, and squatted in the water, facing him, her hands once more taking his sex between the small fingers, sending exciting chills through his body.
"Come on, let me wash him for you. There's nothing wrong in that, is there?"
With a groan, Eliot leaned back and closed his eyes, conscious only of the waves of desire that chased his reason. In his mind he saw Patricia, imagined her lips around his cock, and the thrill of her servicing him the way she could do with such impassioned eagerness . . .
Tiffany reached for the soap and began soaping the shaft of his prick, and with each touch, he felt his body growing weaker, his nerves giving over completely to the utter sensuality of the moment, together with the perverse knowledge that if she continued, he would most certainly climax. His normal virility responded, and he slowly opened his eyes, gazing down at Tiffany, who was staring at his cock intently, her fingers massaging the soap up and down, pulling his foreskin back and forth over the head, while his prick jerked and jumped with every touch of her soft flesh. Casually he let his eyes roam over her body, realizing with a shock that her tits were really developing. They pushed out from her chest with provocative fullness, their round nipples firm and so luscious. He had the sudden urge to lean forward and close his lips around their rosebud ends, to lick his tongue back and forth across them, just the same as he always did with Patricia when she was kneeling over his body, her tits hanging in his face while her hot snatch enclosed his cock. Patricia . . . Patricia . . .
"No. That's enough, Tiffany."
He sat up and scooted his hips back, away from her, allowing his prick to disappear between his legs. She looked at him provocatively. "Daddy, that was fun," she said with as much innocence as she could muster. "Come on, let me do it some more."
"No, dear." Momentarily his sense of humor prevailed, and he leaned forward, lifting her chin and smiling into her eyes. "If you go on, something might happen and I don't think that would be very wise."
"What will happen?" She knew, and inside, she found herself giggling with the knowledge that she knew. If he knew what had happened that very afternoon, how she had been with her brother, feeling his cock slide deep into her . . .
"Come on, bedtime."
"NO!" This time it was Tiffany's voice that rang out, insistent, eager, and before he could move, she had reached down and grabbed his prick firmly, holding onto its provocative fullness and at the same time, pushing with her other hand against her father's chest. He slipped on the smooth surface of the tub, his back coming to rest against the sloping rear and his penis moving up out of the water. In a flash, Tiffany had bent her head down and closed her lips around the pulsating red cockhead that nestled in her fingers. She sucked hard, letting her tongue play across the slit and moving back and forth underneath. That sensitive spot, Sally's words rang in her ears. Concentrate on that and he'll go out of his mind. Eliot's eyes widened as the prickles of delight shot through him, and his mouth fell open.
"Tiffany!"
Frantically she sucked, holding the shaft in her hand and concentrating her lips and tongue upon his flesh, knowing almost instinctively that now there was no turning back. The sensations were too strong, the desire too powerful in his loins, the erotic attraction of the perversity of their actions too great.
"Ooooh.. . " Eliot found his arms almost powerless. It felt as though every ounce of his strength had been sapped by the frightening development, the awesome knowledge of what was happening. Despite the voice of his conscience he succumbed; he allowed it to happen; he, by this time, wanted it to happen, wanted her to continue, on and on, her small mouth tight around his cock, her tongue licking firmly, back and forth, burying its tip in his wide cockslit, rubbing around . . .
With terrifying fascination, he let himself watch her, taking in not only her face, eagerly suspended above his prick, but her body, smooth, firm, immeasurably appealing to that repressed instinct for youth inherent in every man. Her hair fell over her cheeks, every now and then dragging across his legs, adding to the tingles of sensual delight.
He felt the slow surge from within, his eventual climax. It felt as though his balls were about to burst, that he would shoot his sperm endlessly into her mouth . . .
"Tiffany, stop, for God's sake!"
She grinned at him. "Now you know," she said simply. "I've always wanted to do that, Daddy. Oh, what a beautiful cock you have!"
Her words emerged, not as the adolescent ramblings of a child, but as an adult and her tone reminded him once more of Patricia; for a blinding moment of fantasy, he even imagined it was Patricia nestling in his crotch.
"Tiffany, that's enough."
"You mean you don't want me to make you come?"
The bluntness of her words sent a shiver of apprehension through him. "No, I don't."
She laughed, and moved back. He sighed within, thankful that it was over; that she was moving back, and in a second would be out of the tub, and into her bedroom, and he could lay there alone and masturbate himself to his climax, imagining in his mind again that it was Patricia . . .
Tiffany looked down at him, admiring his trim, well-muscled build, and her eyes stared at the throbbing prick sticking up out of the water, its bright-red head jerking spasmodically. In a second, she had moved her feet forward. Eliot thought she was about to step out of the tub, but instead, she planted one leg each side of his hips, and dropped her body, impaling herself upon his rock-hard prick, gasping with delight as she felt the end penetrate her vagina, push into her tight little pussy, enclosing his shaft, gripping it firmly as it slid into her. Eliot's hands came forward, grasping her shoulders, trying to move her up, but the electricity was too much; their bodies merged, fused and he felt his orgasm building. The immeasurable firmness around his cock was not to be denied, together with the slow sensuous movements of her body as she rode his penis.
"Oh, yes, yes, Daddy, Daddy, fuck me!"
From his balls he felt his jism begin, travel up as every nerve ending responded, sending messages of ecstasy to his brain, telling him that the moment was supreme, the ultimate; there was nothing better, and it could not be denied. His hands held her shoulders, and unconsciously he pulled her to him, closing his lips over hers, his tongue pushing into her mouth as his seed erupted along his cock, shooting into her in a glorious orgasm of delight that he felt was unequaled ever before in his experience.
Tiffany felt she was floating, leaving her body. Her own hot cunt was awash with their juices, and her body quivered beneath her own orgasm, together with the knowledge that for the first time, a man was shooting into her. She had wanted it that afternoon with Axel, but he had pulled out before he came; now it was happening. She could feel the hot jism flooding into her, running down her cunt and making his penis even more slick and slippery within her. She trembled uncontrollably and her hips moved almost without her being aware of it, rotating around and around, feeling that hot, spurting cock deep inside her, up and down, around and around . . .
Eliot broke apart, gasping, "Oh, God, Oh, God, no, no, more, that was too much, that was too wonderful, oh, sweet Jesus!" And Tiffany lay flat, her head next to her father's, nestling on his shoulder, feeling his prick slowly soften within her and begin sliding out. Desperately she pushed her hips down, trying to keep it in her, but inevitably, she felt it slip out and she cried out from the frustration. She sat up and back, looking down at the cock across his leg, and she reached out to feel it, noticing how slick, how sticky it was.
"Oh, Daddy, Oh, Daddy," was all she could say, and as their eyes met, she saw the burning desire still within his glance, and his hand reached out and patted her shoulder.
"Tiffany, sweetheart.. . "
She leaned forward and kissed him quickly. "Don't say anything," she murmured. "Just relax and feel good. That was good, wasn't it?"
He nodded. "Yes, it was," he said. "But Tiffany, you shouldn't have. It isn't right.. . " His voice trailed off and he stared down at his cock, still in her fingers as she played with it, turning it over, examining its length, pulling the foreskin back and staring hard at the head, wiping off a globule of cum with her finger and putting it to her lips, tasting it carefully; then she grinned. "Tastes like salted peanuts," she said, and broke into a merry laugh. "Maybe next time I'll suck it until you come."
"Oh, Christ," he moaned, turning away and closing his eyes, and in his mind he saw Patricia standing at the doorway to the bathroom, her blazing eyes accusing him, her words spewing forth with vitriolic fervor as she told him how vile he was, how despicable, how utterly without redemption, that he would indulge in sex with his own daughter. The vision faded and he opened his eyes and saw Tiffany still playing with his cock.
"Tiffany, enough," he said firmly. "Now it's bedtime."
She looked up at him, saddened at the realization that the moment was passing. "Can I sleep with you?" she asked. "I want to."
"No," he replied, moving back and standing up in the tub before stepping out and reaching for a towel. "You'll sleep in your own bed."
"But.. . " She followed him out on to the thick carpeting by the tub. "I'm scared by myself."
He looked at her then laughed shortly. "You're not scared," he said. "You're just lonesome."
"Lonesome and . . . " She hesitated, then continued, "horny."
"Stop it," he snapped. "It's bad enough what happened. I don't want it to happen again. You understand?"
She nodded, but knew he didn't mean it. She knew there would be another time. Perhaps not that night, but soon. And next time, she knew, there would be more than just a mere seduction. There would be that wonderful blending of their bodies. She would suck his cock. She would play with it. She could climb on him and let it slide into her. Maybe he would even lick her cunt, like she heard Sally talking about; like Axel had done to her that afternoon, like-
"Go on, off to bed," he said, slapping her lightly on her bare buttocks. "See you in the morning."
"All right," she answered reluctantly. She waited for his kiss, and when it came, her arms went around his shoulders, and she clung to him, letting her tongue push between his lips quickly. He broke away, his eyes burning.
"No more," he said. She laughed merrily and ran through the doorway and jumped into her bed, pulling the covers up to her chin and staring at the door, knowing he would come and blow her one more kiss, and when he did, she would have one more look at his body, at that wonderful long, thick cock between his legs, that beautiful organ which had been the first to come inside her, to shoot his love juices into her cunt and give her the most incredibly wonderful sensations she ever dreamed possible.
"I love you, Daddy," she murmured, and in minutes she was asleep.
CHAPTER FOUR
Eliot lay back, his mind teeming with conflict. He could not deny that physically he had experienced the most gratifying sex of his life. Never in his many years of fucking around, before and after his marriage, had he felt such immeasurable ecstasy flood his body and mind as when he had felt Tiffany's tight little cunt enclose his cock. For a moment, he felt a wave of guilt sweep over him, but the satisfaction he felt overcame the remorse he knew he would probably be plagued with the rest of his life. But hopefully, he reasoned, the episode would dwindle into the past. He certainly could not allow Tiffany to share a bath with him again; in fact, he dared not even allow her into his bed. He knew not only her aggressiveness but his own virility would inevitably result in another encounter; and if it ever became a habit, there would only be disaster ahead for both of them. His mind fled back to his early years of puberty when he and two other boys at school had literally raped a girl one afternoon when his parents were out of the house; they had brought her into his bedroom, and, giggling, they had started taking off their clothes. The girl tried to leave, and Eliot had held her while his friends removed her clothing. Then, one by one, they had mounted her. At first she struggled, but then she relaxed, obviously enjoying it, and not for the first time, either, despite the fact that she could not have been more than ten. He remembered her body, her tight little cunt and the way she wriggled, almost the same way Tiffany had moved when she had slid down on his prick, enclosing his shaft within her, so smoothly, so tightly . . . God, there was nothing better than a small, tight cunt.
He shivered, shook his head trying to dispel the memory, but the desire was still within him. He felt his prick enlarging; he was getting hard again just from thinking about it. He knew he had always been extremely virile, and could get an erection in two seconds flat. His hand slid down and gripped his rising organ, squeezing it gently, caressing it, pulling the skin back and forth and sending those delicious chills through his groin.
His mind fled back to the bathroom, and he saw once again Tiffany's gloriously smooth body, those small but beautifully rounded tits before him, and again he had the urge to close his lips around her nipples, bite softly and excite her, make her move her hips while his cock slid in between those warm, wet folds of flesh.
He felt his prick flex and jerk as his mind excited his emotions higher and higher. His hand closed more firmly, holding his shaft at the base, and he started moving his hips, driving his rod in and out of his fist, feeling the skin caress the cock end. He moved his thumb up and began massaging underneath the head, increasing the pleasure that was once more soothing his nerves, sending messages of utter delight through him. He felt the familiar ache in his balls, that rising surge of passion. He slowly closed his fingers around his shaft, holding the end, pressing harder-harder-his hips going faster and faster, then suddenly, with a soft moan, he came, sending his jism shooting out and oozing down through his fingers while his body quivered from his orgasm. "Oh, God," he whispered to himself. "It's so good, it's so good."
He lay still a moment, then reached to the box of Kleenex, taking several to mop up his crotch. Then he turned over and closed his eyes. God, but Tiffany had excited him more than anyone else. More than Patricia, whose sexual prowess he had rated as superb; which was one of the reasons he had married her. After their first night together, he knew he had finally found a woman to match his own limitless capacity for sex. But now . . .
What if Patricia ever found out? Oh, God . . . He opened his eyes and found himself sitting up in the bed, staring into the darkness his heart pounding with alarm. Suppose she did, what then? Apart from his sexuality, he knew he loved her. He couldn't let anything ever come between their relationship. She must never know.
Quickly he threw the covers back and slipped out of bed, moving through the bathroom into Tiffany's room.
"Tiffany. You asleep?"
He saw her small body in the bed, and he heard her deep breathing. "Tiffany . . . "
There was a rustle, and she turned her head and saw Eliot standing beside the bed. In a second, she was wide awake, and her first thought sent a shiver of anticipation through her; he wanted her again. He had come in to have some more sex.
"Oh, Daddy-"
He sat down on the edge of the bed and reached over, touching her cheek gently.
"Tiffany, I couldn't sleep. I wanted to talk."
"What about?"
"About what happened. I wanted you to know that-that-" For a second he searched for the right words. "Well, maybe it was fun, and we both enjoyed it, but it mustn't happen again, Tiffany. You know that, I'm sure."
Tiffany frowned. "But-but what's wrong with that? I love you, and when people love each other, they want to have sex. You said that once about Mama when you talked about it. So what's the difference if it's me, or-or Patricia-or anyone else?"
He sighed. Her logic was difficult to overcome. "Because," he said finally. "Sex is something two people have together, but not fathers and daughters. I really shouldn't have, but sometimes, Tiffany, one's desires are so strong, they sweep away the rules we live by. But that doesn't alter the fact that it's not right, and I want you to promise that you won't try to have sex with me again, and we must both forget it. Will you do that?"
She stared at him. His face was serious, and she felt a deep warmth emanating from him, the image she had always had as a child, of her father desperately concerned over a problem that affected her. Only now the problem affected him as well; she knew only too well that disaster could strike if they continued their fucking.
"Daddy, I can't say that I'll forget it. It was something too wonderful. It was the best ever . . . " Her voice trailed off as she reached for his hand and held it tightly. "I love you, Daddy. Don't tell me to try and forget something that was only part of my loving you."
"Tiffany, love does not necessarily mean sex. Many people love each other but don't sleep together. But-" He stopped, a look of consternation crossing his face. "What did you mean, it was the best ever?"
Tiffany flushed, and looked away.
"Have you done that with others? With another boy? With another man? Tell me, Tiffany."
"Of course not," she lied, trying to keep her eyes steady as she looked at him. "But I-I play with myself. It's the same thing, really. It feels almost the same, only with you it was better. It was more wonderful. It was-well, you know," she ended lamely, hoping that he would accept her statement.
Slowly he nodded. "Well, I guess we all masturbate when we start finding out about sex," he said carefully. "And there's nothing wrong in that."
"I know," she interjected quickly, seizing an opportunity to strengthen her argument. "You told me that when we first talked about sex."
"I know. I remember." His mind went back to a few years before when he had sat down and, at first awkwardly, then more easily, explained the facts of life to his daughter. He had always felt that honesty was the preferable route in sex education, despite the fact that the children's mother had always mildly reproved him for walking around naked. "It isn't right," she had said primly, more than once. "There's plenty of time later for that." And he had told her bluntly that if their children grew up without any shame connected with their genitals, that their outlook would be a healthier one; they would attach less guilt to sex, less of the legendary sinfulness that most children mature with because of erroneous old wives' tales overheard in their younger years. He would always walk unclothed to the bathroom, leaving the door open, and many times Axel or Tiffany would come in to use the John, and after their initial stares had satisfied their curiosity, they treated the matter with indifference. Yet now he pondered on the wisdom of his liberality, considering what Tiffany had done. She had literally seduced him, and he cursed his passionate nature for letting himself go, for allowing it to happen in the first place. He should have . . . yes, there were many things he should have done, but now it was too late.
"So, Daddy, don't ask me to forget it. Please." He realized she had been staring intently at him, and her voice plaintively echoed in his mind.
"You must, baby. You must. We must both try to forget it, and never, never let it happen again. You must say nothing about it to anyone. Not even to Axel, and-" He paused, then continued with sudden emphasis, "Especially not to Patricia."
She grinned. "No, especially not to her," she said. Her glance was almost lascivious, and he shuddered at the prospect of his wife discovering his actions; another woman she would accept. But his own child-never.
"Don't worry, Daddy. Nothing's going to happen."
"It had better not," he said grimly, moving back from the bed. "Or both of us will be up the creek," he added humorously, reaching out and tweaking her nose.
"Okay."
He turned and began walking back toward the bathroom. She called out, "Daddy, please don't worry. You've got enough on your mind with the concert tomorrow night, and Axel's career-" She paused, "And my career, too."
He turned, frowning. "Your career?"
"Yes," she replied innocently. "You said if I worked hard at it, I could join the group. And it needn't be that long, either. I'm good, Daddy. I really am. Even Axel said so."
"Axel was merely being kind," he said shortly. "You are not ready yet, Tiffany, and you know it. Look, we'll talk about it in the future. Not now, baby."
She scooted up in the bed, resting her shoulders against the headboard, and staring hard at him. "Axel said it was okay," she said slowly, and with careful emphasis. "He'd like me to join the group and get rid of Sally. She's pestering him, he says."
Eliot walked slowly over and sat down on the bed. "Axel said Sally was pestering him?"
She nodded. "Yes. He said at first he thought she was real groovy, but now all she wants to do is-" She giggled, "What we did in the bathroom tonight."
"Tiffany, you're making this up," Eliot said, his voice rising slightly. "Axel's hung up on Sally, and besides, she sings very well. Outstandinglyrin fact. I can't see getting rid of her, and certainly not replacing her with you at this stage. Tiffany, you're not ready. In time, maybe, yes. But not now. Be reasonable." He took a deep breath. "Besides, I suspect that you're not telling the truth."
"I'm not lying." Her voice blazed at him. "You know I don't he, Daddy."
He shook his head. "Nevertheless, you're not joining the group now, Tiffany. And I don't want you starting trouble between Axel and Sally. They work together very well. And the group's going places. I'm not going to louse it up now, especially with a singer who's not ready nor right for the group. Maybe in a few years, baby, but not now."
Tiffany sighed, and shrugged her shoulders. She looked away from him and began idly toying with the blanket.
"Well, if you don't think I'm ready, maybe Patricia does," she said softly, her voice almost evil in its innuendo. "Of course, I haven't talked to her about it, but I'm sure when I do, she'll be very interested in everything I have to say. I'm sure she would be able to do something about it. After all, you said she loves me, and if she does, she'll try to work things out so I'll be happy, don't you think so, Daddy?" Her eyes, which had been roaming across the bed, turned lazily and met his own, and she realized from his dawning look of horrible " comprehension that her message was getting through loud and clear. "And really, she shouldn't have to worry about things like that, should she? It's really between you and me, isn't it?"
Eliot turned away, breathing heavily. He could scarcely believe his ears. Not so much her words, but the cool, detached and almost heartless tone of her voice. The threat had been there, icy and sharp, without feeling. He had a sudden urge to reach out and slap her firmly across the face, but he restrained himself. God, if only he had exerted restraint earlier in the bathtub . . .
"Very well, Tiffany. I guess I'll just have to see it your way," he said resignedly. "So let's think about it, shall we? I can't do anything right now, but when we get back to California, we can arrange something. I'm sure you wouldn't want to go on tomorrow night, now would you?"
"Of course not," she conceded. "I'm not rehearsed. But as long as we work it out when we get back home, I think everything will be fine." She reached out, but he drew back. She noticed the rebuff, but raised her chin defiantly. "I'll be good, Daddy, believe me. I've always dreamed of singing with Axel. Just like I've always dreamed of loving you like I did tonight," she added. "You see, if you dream hard enough, things come true."
"Only if it's the right dream," he snapped. "Remember that, Tiffany. Good night."
He turned and stalked out, closing the door to the bathroom behind him, plunging the room into darkness. Tiffany snuggled back under the covers, and smiled to herself. Well, well, it was surprising how it had worked out, wasn't it? She had gotten what she wanted in more than one way.
Excited at the prospect of joining the group, she found it hard to sleep. She felt her senses tingling at the memory of her father's body, and that magnificent prick that she had felt. Slowly her fingers strayed down between her legs and she probed into her soft cuntfolds and felt a spasm of pleasure shoot through her loins as her fingers found her clitoris and began gently massaging it into a firm little nub once again. Suddenly she stopped, and her words came back with a chill of apprehension-she had told her father that Axel wanted her in the group, and that he was getting tired of Sally. Supposing Eliot went to Axel and talked to him about it? She had to get to Axel first, and prevent any complication.
With a shiver, she threw back the covers and reached for her robe at the foot of the bed. Then she remembered she had left it in the bathroom. Walking carefully to the bathroom door, she turned the handle silently and pulled. There was a dull glow coming from her father's bedroom, and she saw her robe lying on the floor where she had dropped it before getting into the tub. Holding her breath, she moved forward, picked it up and paused, listening intently. Her father's heavy breathing reassured her. She moved back into her room, closing the door behind her. She slipped into her robe, shivering slightly, and padded to the other door leading to the hallway.
She opened it, and walked quickly down the hall to Axel's room, opening the door quietly and slipping inside. The room was almost dark. In the far corner, she saw the bed, with Axel's body forming a dark shape underneath the blankets. She moved across, and then, impulsively, she slipped off her robe, and with almost simultaneous movements, she lifted the edge of the sheet and crawled into bed next to her brother.
He turned, grunting, and then, feeling her hand come around his body, he cleared his throat and, still half-asleep, he said hoarsely, "Tiffany, get your ass out of here."
She giggled. "Why? I'm lonesome." Her fingers strayed down between his legs and gripped his prick. She thrilled at the feel of his cock, soft but thick, in her grasp. He tired to move away from her.
"Tiffany, for chrissake, knock it off."
"Aren't you horny, Axel? I am. Come on, let's fuck."
"No!" His excited whisper shattered the stillness and she giggled again, moving closer to him. "Tiffany, I'm fucked out, and I'm tired. I gotta sleep, baby. Come on, now, get back to your room."
"It's good, Axel. I want some more of your cock. And this time I don't want you to pull out."
He scooted back further, his hands forcibly removing hers from his prick. Holding her, he glared into her eyes, shining wildly in the dim light.
"Listen," he hissed. "Suppose Dad comes in and finds us?"
She laughed softly. "He won't. He's sound asleep. I just checked. I've been waiting, Axel. Come on, let me suck your cock. I'll suck it till you come. How's that? I want to taste that stuff."
Axel found himself trembling slightly, and in his crotch the old tingle had already started and he felt his prick begin to stiffen. The pressure of her warm body and knowing she was so willing had aroused him; still, he resisted her.
"Another time, Tiff. Please."
"No. Now."
She jerked her hand free and reached once more for his prick, realizing with a triumphant thrill that he was getting an erection. "See, you're getting hard," she whispered, and before he could grab her, she had pulled the covers back and moved her head down between his legs, guiding his prick into her eager mouth. As her lips closed around it, and began sucking, he moaned softly, feeling the waves of sensation flood his crotch and send their message through his body.
Tiffany felt her own body responding, the wetness oozing down her crack, and as she moved her hips together she could feel the sensations flooding her crotch as her cuntflesh pressured her clitoris within the wetness. She forced her legs tighter together to increase her own pleasure as she licked harder and firmer around the cockshaft that was throbbing between her lips.
She let her hands stray around Axel's crotch, feeling with a thrill his pubic hair making an almost invisible carpet up to his navel, thick and coarse around his balls and the base of his cock. Almost instinctively, she let her nails trail through the hair, and heard a soft sigh escape his lips and he relaxed in the bed, pushing his hips up slightly to thrust his prick deeper into her throat.
She felt the cockhead-broad, thick-slide over her tongue, and tasted the jism that had begun to ooze out of his cockslit. She lifted her head and let the cockhead rest between her lips while her tongue flicked back and forth over the slit, trying to probe it open. Then she caressed underneath that sensitive spot she had been shown by Sally. As the tip of her tongue touched him, she felt him quiver and slowly his hands came down and touched her head, stroking her hair gently.
"Oh, Tiffany, that feels good. Suck the end. Suck it under there. That's groovy, really far out. Oh, Tiff . . . " His voice trailed off in another moan of delight as she closed her lips hard around his cock and sucked up and down quickly, enclosing his cockshaft and lowering her head until she felt his balls against her mouth and the end of his cock deep in her throat.
. "Easy, baby, you'll make me come if you keep that up."
She raised her head, giggled and stared at him in the dim light from the window.
"Don't you want to come?"
"Sure. But not yet. Make it last. It's too good."
She giggled again, and felt a perverse sense of satisfaction at being complimented at something she had only recently started doing. Maybe she was a born cocksucker, she thought, and giggled again.
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing."
"Well, shut up and fuck then. You said you were horny."
"I am, Axel. Just thinking of this big cock made me horny. I want it in me again. I want you to shoot in me."
"I'm not gonna do that. You may get pregnant."
"I won't. I'll go take a hot bath."
"That doesn't stop it."
"Well, don't you worry about that. Just do it. Fuck me."
Tiffany raised up and before Axel could prevent her, she had straddled his body, her arms around his neck and her mouth on his, kissing him passionately. She pushed her tongue between his lips and felt him respond. His arms came around her back and they clung together, their tongues licking, exploring, their bodies pressing closely, and Axel felt his prick sliding between her legs, so soft, so incredibly smooth, and automatically he pushed, feeling it slide up-up-toward that tight little pussy.
In his mind he remembered having entered her cunt that afternoon, how tight she was, how smooth and hot, and how great she had made him feel with her eagerness to experience his cock, and gain her own pleasure by giving him his.
"Fuck me, Axel. Stick it in. All the way in."
She was moving her hips, trying to capture his cock in the folds of her cunt. Impatiently she moved one hand down between their bodies and he felt her fingers enclose his cockshaft and hold it, pushing the pulsating head forward. Then he gasped as he felt the hot, slick, sensuous grasp of her cunt flesh around the head and he jumped, his movement pushing his cock into her. She cried out softly and then slowly he entered her all the way until he felt her ass flat against his hips and ten thousand electric needles playing around his prick as it nestled deep within her.
"Oh, yes, yes," she breathed, holding him close as she began moving her body. "Oh, Axel, that feels so good. It's so thick and hard. Oh, fuck, fuck . . . "
Even as he found himself being slightly shocked at hearing his little sister utter such words, he found an incredible ecstasy and rising excitement at the knowledge that he was fucking her; that his prick was buried deep in her willing cunt and she was turning her hips, moving up and down and with each twist of her flesh, she was making him feel better than he had ever felt before; better than with Sally, better than jacking off. Better than anything.
There was no holding it back any longer. The feel of what was happening and the undeniable pleasures that were pouring through his being that he could not stop; even though a warning voice echoed in his mind, he lacked the strength he had shown that afternoon when he had pulled out of her. But not now. His arms enclosed her willing body and together they thrashed on the bed, which began rocking crazily under the motion.
Tiffany felt her emotions building to blinding intensity. With every thrust of his cock into her, she felt a surge of ecstasy in her loins; she felt she was floating. Her insides were churning madly and she knew she was going to have an orgasm any second. She cried out, "Oh, Axel, I'm-I'm-" and before she could finish, a flash cut through her sight and she felt her cunt contract and flood her canal with her juices as she climaxed. Her body seemed to float, suspended in space on top of his prick which held her up, impaled on its broad, throbbing magnificent point. Axel felt the added quivering within her and the warm rush of juices around his shaft, bathing the head of his cock with extra sensation. He held her tighter and his mouth found hers as he pushed his tongue into her mouth and rammed his cock deeper into her as he felt his balls tight against his cock, quivering, shaking, and that not-to-be-denied surge of delight from deep inside him as his jism began its journey, shooting through his prick and exploding from the tip of his cock into her cunt, load after load, sending him into a vortex of ecstasy. He felt he would never stop coming; on and on, more and more and with each ejaculation, his nerves tingled with a feeling of unutterable delight. Their bodies dripped with sweat as they clung together and he felt her hot, perspiring tits rubbing against his chest, adding to the overall feelings of sensuality.
With a gasp he broke away from her, his cock still inside her, but softening.
"Oh, Keer-ist, Tiffany . . . Jesus, God, I came in you."
She looked down at his face and smiled happily. "I know, I felt it. I felt that cum shooting into me. It's running down and out. I came, too. Oh, Axel, it was the most wonderful feeling I ever thought could happen to me. Oh, Axel-" She kissed him quickly, and then stared down at him again. "Come on, get hard again, so we can do it once more. Come on, I want to fuck all night." Impetuously she tongued his cheeks, his neck, licking his flesh and sending icy tingles through him.
"Quit that," he said roughly. "Come on, relax. This is the best part. Just relax after you've come."
She wriggled her hips, feeling his cock about to slip out of her, and she tried to push down to keep it in. Then with a quick movement, his cock was out of her, and she moaned. "Oh, leave it in, Axel. I want it in me." And he laughed.
"Stupid, Once it's shot, it's soft for a while. And with all the fucking I've done today, it ain't gonna get up 'til tomorrow, I know that for sure. Come on, Tiff, lay still."
Obediently, because she was feeling tired and sleepy herself, Tiffany rolled off him and lay beside his body, her arm across his stomach, tenderly trailing her fingers in the sticky sweat on his skin.
"Oh, Axel, it's so wonderful," she murmured. "You really like fucking with me, don't you?"
"Uh-huh," he grunted, wishing she would be quiet.
"We can fuck anytime, can't we?"
"Tiffany, shut up, will you?"
"Don't tell me to shut up. Axel, I love you."
"I know. I know. Now hush your mouth a minute. Jeez, you're worse than Sally. After I fuck her, all she wants to do is talk about how good it was. I know it's good. Just lay back and enjoy it. Besides, if we talk, Dad may hear us and come in."
"All right."
Tiffany was silent for a moment, her mind teeming with the incredible feeling she had just experienced, and also aware of the primary purpose for her coming into Axel's room. She let her fingers trail up his body and touch him on the lips.
"Axel-"
"What now?"
"You know something? I talked to Daddy about my joining the group. He said I could when we get back to California."
She felt him stiffen and he gasped. "You're putting me on. Dad'd never say that. I know. Sally's the singer. Besides, she's my chick. I can't throw her out and you know that. Dad wouldn't dig that idea, anyway."
"It's true. He said so tonight before I went to bed."
"Maybe he meant in a few years."
"No," replied Tiffany, still playing gently with his chest, caressing his nipples with her fingertips, and enjoying the feel of their firmness; smaller than hers, but the same firmness. Maybe he was still excited . . .
"Go to bed now, Tiff. I want to sleep."
"Okay," she said, moving slowly to the edge of the bed, and preparing to slide her legs off the edge. "But I wanted you to know we'll not only be fucking again. I'll be singing with you. I've always wanted that, you know, Axel."
He sat up and stared hard into her face.
"When you're ready, you can sing with the group," he said to her sternly. "Not before."
"Daddy said I could when we get home. You ask . him."
"Then there's gonna be one helluva row. Sally's the singer and I want her to stay. So forget it, Tiff."
She eyed him steadily, and licked her lips. "If you don't want me, then I'll just have to do something about it," she said slowly and with all the intensity she could muster. "I mean, if I join the group, we'll not only sing together, we'll fuck together, Axel. Think of that."
"Look, little sister." His voice was blatantly impatient now, almost the same tone she remembered her father using at times with her. "I got my chick in the group. She sings good, and she fucks good, too. What do I need you for? And like I said, you're not ready yet. So knock it off. And go to bed. Good night."
He turned away and pulled the sheet up, the movement easing Tiffany's body toward the edge of the bed. Tiffany slid her feet to the floor, stood up and stared down at her brother.
"If you don't want me to join the group," she said with terrible clarity, "then I'll just have to tell Daddy that you've been fucking me."
Axel sat bolt upright in bed and Tiffany could see, even in the dim light, that a look of mounting horror spread over his features.
"I hope you're only kidding, Tiffany."
She shook her head firmly. "Nope. I want to sing with you, Axel. I know I can be good. You just don't want to give me the chance. So I've got to make my chance. What do you say?"
"What about Sally?"
"Get rid of her." The words snapped out heartlessly.
Axel stared at his sister uncomprehendingly. "Tiffany, what's happened? You wouldn't do anything like tell Dad, now, would you?"
"I would, Axel."
"But-but Dad'd kill me. Oh, shit. . . " His voice trailed off as their eyes met and stared unwaveringly at each other for a few seconds. Then Axel turned away.
"You would, wouldn't you?" he said softly. "Jesus Christ, my own sister . . . "
"You fucked me, Axel," Tiffany said softly. "And you know what Dad would say, and what he'd do. So you just do like I say and everything will be fine."
"But what about Sally?"
"So she can get a job with another group. No problem." Tiffany waved her hand airily. "It's perfectly natural that you'd want your own sister. Like some other groups who have the family along, you know. Axel, I don't have to give you reasons. I'm just telling you how it is. I want to join the group, and as soon as we get back home, we're starting rehearsal with me, not Sally."
Axel groaned and turned away. Slowly he slid under the covers until only his head was visible, his eyes burning with hatred. "You're sure a little bitch," he muttered. "Okay. Okay. You win."
Impulsively, Tiffany leaned over and tried to kiss him on the lips, but he turned away disgustedly.
Tiffany laughed and moved away from the bed. "Don't feel too bad, Axel," she murmured softly. "You'll feel better tomorrow. And," she added with a giggle, "you'll feel much better when I suck your cock again. In a few weeks, I'll be even better than I am now."
"Get your ass out of here," he snapped.
With a laugh, Tiffany walked to the door, opened it and silently made her way back to her room. As she slid between the sheets, she sighed contentedly. Oh, it was working out so well. She'd be singing with the group; she'd be fucking with Axel and she'd certainly crawl into bed with her father again, she knew. As sleep overcame her, she had a sudden picture of herself on stage, stark naked, with hundreds of young men, each with his pants open and a monstrous hard-on sticking out, all clawing up at her, trying to touch her, to rip her clothes off, to throw her to the floor and fuck her and fuck her and fuck her . . .
CHAPTER FIVE
Tiffany awoke and as the memory of the preceding night broke through her early morning fog, she began to smile; then she sat up quickly, hugging the blankets around her knees and giggled to herself. It had been quite a day! Sex with Axel in the afternoon; sex with her father that evening, followed by sex with Axel again, and if that wasn't enough, she had gotten an assurance that she would be singing with the group. The impact of the physical and emotional events was almost too much to absorb.
She sat still, going over every moment she had experienced, remembering the reactions of both her brother and her father, and the incredible sensations that had blown her mind, transporting her into that mysterious realm devoid of reality, that mystical, heavenly feeling as her body reached its climax and she felt them do the same . . . God, but fucking was great! And even better was the hold she knew it gave her upon them. She could get whatever she wanted from Axel, or from Eliot; she had only to mention the possibility of talking to Patricia and they would capitulate to her demands. Oh, what glorious power!
She giggled again, and only momentarily did her father's tone of voice and his face, haunted with fear, cross her mind.
"There's nothing they can do," she whispered to herself. "Oh, wow!"
With her heart singing with joy, she jumped out of the bed and stretched her arms above her head; then she went into the bathroom. The door to Eliot's room was closed, but she suspected that he was already dressed and downstairs having breakfast. She noticed some splashes on the floor and the towels were damp; he must have showered and taken care not to wake her. Or perhaps he didn't want to wake her!
Hastily she finished, dressed and made her way down to the dining room, her eyes sparkling and her step light. As she entered, Eliot looked up from his food and nodded.
"Morning, Daddy."
"Good morning, Tiffany."
She sat down, eyeing him warily, noting with a twinge of apprehension that he did not smile at her, and his face was grim.
"Where's Axel?"
"He's getting dressed," replied Eliot shortly, and went back to concentrating on his bacon and eggs.
"Oh. Then you've talked to him this morning?"
The butler came in and placed Tiffany's breakfast before her, and poured her coffee.
"No, I haven't," said Eliot guardedly. "But I heard him as I passed his door." He took a sip of coffee. "Why?"
"Oh, I wondered if you'd talked to him about my joining the group, that was all."
Eliot shifted uncomfortably and stared at her, frowning.
"I plan to," he said shortly. "At the right time."
"No time like the present," said Tiffany gaily, stirring sugar into her coffee and smiling at her father. "I mean, I think you should tell him before we get to the rehearsal hall."
"Frankly, I planned to on the way to town," Eliot snapped. "Which is why I didn't wake you. I figured you could spend the day here. I'm going to be very busy and Axel certainly doesn't need any unnecessary problems today."
"You mean I'm a problem?"
Eliot glanced quickly in the direction of the door to the kitchen, making sure the butler had left the room. "I won't call you a problem, Tiffany, but you must admit that your demands are not going to be exactly welcome to Axel."
Tiffany had the grace to blush. "I wouldn't be so sure," she countered. "For all you know, Axel might be real happy about having me instead of that little tramp in the group."
"Sally is not a tramp," said Eliot with some force. "She is a good singer."
"She's pestering him. He told me. Besides, I think Axel can find a nicer girl to sleep with."
"I wouldn't get into that subject, Tiffany," said Eliot in a voice dripping with sarcasm. "Especially after last night."
Her eyes met his, and she bit her lip. "Daddy, don't be like that. I love you."
"I don't wish to discuss it right now. I'd like to finish my breakfast in relative calm and prepare myself for the rest of the day."
Tiffany suddenly realized she had not called him on his comment about her staying at the house. "All right," she said with forced brightness. "I promise not to mention it again, provided I can come with you today."
"No." Eliot's voice was loud and commanding. "You're staying here."
"I want to come. Besides, I'm coming to the concert tonight and there's no sense your coming back this afternoon to get me."
"We are only rehearsing a few hours. Axel has to come back and rest." Eliot pushed his plate away and leaned toward her. "I don't think you really understand how important tonight is for your brother. His entire career could rest upon how he does. He can wind up with a recording contract and some more big bookings, or he can fall on his face and go back to playing smaller clubs in California. I'm going to make sure he gets the right thing, and I don't want you or anyone screwing up the works. I know damn well Axel doesn't want you at the rehearsal, especially with the news that I have to tell him."
"What news, Dad?"
Tiffany looked up at the same time as her father. Axel was standing in the doorway, smiling. He walked forward and sat down next to his sister. Eliot looked at Tiffany and then at his son.
"I was just telling Tiffany that she's to stay here today. I don't want her at the rehearsal. We have enough to worry about."
Axel frowned, and stared at them both for a moment. "But it's okay if she comes," he said quietly. "In fact, it'll do her good. She's got to become familiar with the arrangements."
"Why?" Eliot's voice whipped across the table.
"So she'll pick them up, that's why. You see, I think it won't be a bad idea if she joins the group when we get back to California."
Eliot gasped audibly, and Tiffany smiled, then bent over and kissed Axel on the cheek. "You mean you want me to sing?" she asked, not having to force the expression of bubbling joy on her face. Eliot shook his head slowly and reached for his cigarettes.
"And when did you decide this, may I ask?"
Axel raised his eyebrows and shook his head vaguely. "Oh, I've been thinking about it. Sally's getting to be a drag. You know how chicks can be, Dad," he added, giving his father a wink.
Eliot's expression was stony. "And only yesterday you and Sally seemed like two lovebirds," he snapped, "I don't understand it, Axel. Sally's a damn good singer. Tiffany needs experience and practice." He paused, and saw his daughter's face drop slightly and a look of suspicion creep into her eyes. "I mean . . . " His voice faltered as he desperately groped for words. "Well, actually, Axel it came as a surprise to hear you say it. But I've been thinking myself that it might not be a bad idea. Once we get home and can start getting Tiffany ready, of course."
It was Axel's turn to look at his father with surprise. "You mean you dig the idea?"
Eliot nodded. "Why not? Look at the Carpenters. I mean, there are lots of families that team up. I'll admit I didn't think much of the idea yesterday but I gave it some thought." He paused. "I think Sally can finish the concert tonight and then when we get out to the Coast, we'll start rehearsing with Tiffany."
Axel leaned back to allow his breakfast to be placed before him. He smiled up at the impassive face of the butler, and nodded. "Well, that's real groovy," he said with growing relief in his voice. "I figured you'd raise holy hell with the idea."
Tiffany laughed. "Oh, stop it. Why shouldn't Daddy want me to be up there with you? I know I can cut it. I'll be good, Axel, I know. All I need is some work and for you to help me." Her eyes were boring into his. "And I know you will, won't you?"
He turned away. "Yeah, yeah, of course."
Tiffany laughed. "This is wonderful!" she said gaily. "You both think it's a great idea. And I won't let you down. Believe me, Daddy, you won't be sorry."
"I hope not," said Eliot. "And I hope you won't ever be, either." He stared at her; then abruptly he pushed his chair back and left the room. Axel stared after him, then turned to his sister.
"I don't get it," he said. "How come Dad agreed like that? I mean, he knows damn well Sally's the one for the group." He stared suspiciously at
Tiffany. "You didn't say anything to him about us, did you? About what happened?"
"Of course not," Tiffany said innocently. "I told you I wouldn't. And I won't," she added. "Just as long as I get to sing with the group."
"Okay, okay."
"And also, think of the fun we can have together."
Axel flushed. "You quit that," he muttered, attacking his food. "I don't like you even mentioning it."
Tiffany laughed. "Come on, Axel. There's nothing wrong in having fun together, is there? Besides.. . " She leaned over and her hand sneaked on to his leg under the table. "I can fuck for you just as good as Sally."
He jerked his leg away and stared furiously at her.
"I said quit that," he snapped. "And I mean it."
"You mean it now," she replied calmly. "But you won't tonight."
He turned to her, his face livid. "Tiff, come on. Just because something happened last night doesn't mean it's going to happen all the time. I-I can't-" His voice broke off, then he continued in a whisper. "I can't fuck you anymore. I just can't."
She giggled. "Why not?"
"Because I don't want you to get knocked up, for one thing."
"Wear a rubber."
"Shit." Axel pushed his plate away and gulped his coffee. "Come on, let's go."
In silence they left the room, got their coats and waited in the hall for Eliot. Minutes later they were speeding down the expressway toward the city.
The stage door to the auditorium was crowded with young girls and a few boys, all eagerly peering inside, hoping to catch a glimpse of their favorite groups, or to clutch eagerly at a star who arrived or perhaps came out for a moment's fresh air. Most of the girls were chattering loudly, each trying to outdo the other in recounting their tales of past exploits with rock groups.
"I fucked every one of the Morbid Mothers," one girl stated in a high, vibrant voice, her eyes heavily weighted down with false lashes, her hair hanging around her shoulders. "And let me tell you, they're the most."
"Huh!" another girl grunted cynically. "Don't hand me that. They're not interested in girls, especially someone like you with no tits."
"Shut your mouth," snapped the first girl, angrily turning around and raising her hand. "I got Polaroids to prove it, baby."
A boy giggled and raised an eyebrow. "You're not the only one, chicky," he murmured archly. "They're all hung like horses, too. Real groovy cocks."
"Split, fairy," snapped the girl. "We don't need you."
"No, but they do," replied the boy, nodding his head toward the interior of the stage door. "Nothin' you can do that I can't do better."
"Oh, crap," wailed another girl. "It's ten o'clock. I gotta go."
She cruised away from the crowd and then her eyes lit up as she saw Axel, Tiffany and Eliot coming down the sidewalk from the parking lot. She squealed delightedly and made a dash toward Axel, then, realizing that she did not recognize him, stopped, her face creasing in disappointment.
"I thought it was Mick Jagger," she wailed, and Axel grinned at her.
"S'matter, baby, won't I do?"
She sniffed. "Who are you?"
Eliot laughed. "You won't say that in six months, little lady," he said, taking Tiffany's arm and guiding her through the crowd and into the building. He was still laughing as they made their way toward the dressing rooms.
"Those groupies are too much," said Tiffany primly. "They look so dirty."
"I'm inclined to agree with you," said Eliot. "But at least they're part of the scene. Wait till Axel becomes famous. He'll have hundreds after him."
Axel grinned. "I'll take 'em one at a time," he said, winking at his father. "Maybe even two or three if they're cute."
"Axel, don't talk like that," said Tiffany, giving her brother a look of mild disapproval. "They're not nice girls."
"And what's your definition of a nice girl?" asked Eliot, looking down at her with a glint in his eye.
"Me," she replied promptly, and Eliot was forced to break into loud laughter. Axel smiled and shook his head sadly.
"We won't discuss that," he said softly, and then he gave a loud shout of welcome as they entered the dressing room and he saw Sally sitting on a chair, reading a book. She looked up, rose and came to him, embracing him and tilting her mouth up for his kiss.
Tiffany eyed her with distaste as she saw their lips meet and linger, and she pictured in her mind their tongues blending within their mouths and she felt a momentary twinge of jealousy and excitement as she remembered fucking him the night before . . .
"Okay, ten minutes and I want everyone on stage, ready for a good solid workout," said Eliot, smiling at the four boys who were sitting at the end of the room, idly plucking at their guitars. "This is our last chance before tonight and there are a few things that have to be cleaned up."
"Okay, Dad," said Axel, breaking away from Sally and moving over to his guitar case against the chair.
"Tiffany, you go find yourself a seat out front," said Eliot. "I'll join you in a moment."
"All right, Daddy." Tiffany turned and made her way through the backstage area, down seemingly endless corridors until she came to the wings, where several musicians were talking. She peered around the edge of the curtains and saw the stairs leading down over the apron to the auditorium. She thought for a moment-how long will it be before I go out there, a spotlight hitting me as the roar of the crowd welcomes me, cheering, applauding, waiting until my voice rings out and spurs them to further outbursts of enthusiasm . . . Yes, it won't be long now.
With her heart beating with anticipation, Tiffany made her way down the stairs and eased herself into a seat in the third row. She sat, staring around at the people, some musicians, some managers and friends, all eagerly discussing the concert that night, each one obviously with suppressed excitement and eagerness. Show biz-Tiffany smiled to herself, thankful that she would soon be part of that thrilling fraternity of entertainers, sharing in the rewards of public acclaim.
It wouldn't only be her father, then, or her brother, who would make love, but many others-handsome musicians, virile boys, all anxious to get their hands on her willing flesh, and plunge their cocks into her . . .
She looked up at the stage and saw Axel walk out, carrying his guitar. The drummer followed, wheeling in his set of instruments, and then Sally came in, talking to Eliot. Tiffany noticed that her face was serious, and she wondered whether her father had broken the news yet. Probably not; he would wait until afterward, so she wouldn't be let down for the performance. She knew her father was a born diplomat and his maneuvering of people was second nature in a business where the right word at the right time could often make the difference between the good break and the possible oblivion.
Her thoughts were stilled by the sudden outburst of sounds as the drummer began warming up. Eliot smiled at the group, and turned and came down to sit next to Tiffany. He opened his clipboard and held his pencil in readiness.
"Okay, let's go," he shouted. He smiled briefly at Tiffany, who leaned toward him and squeezed his arm as she looked up lovingly at him. "Take heed, sweetheart," he said gruffly. "Watch Sally. Notice how she moves, how she works with Axel. It's all part of everything you have to learn. And," he added forcefully, "you have a hell of a lot to learn."
"I know," she murmured. "But it doesn't scare me."
He grunted and turned back to observe the group, who had moved into position for their opening number. Axel beat out a rhythm with his foot, nodded, and a second later, a torrent of noise swept out into the auditorium, drowning every other sound. Sally stood next to Axel, swaying her body sensuously in time to the music, her head moving from side to side, sending her hair cascading provocatively in the air. Tiffany had to admit she looked good; she was really a very attractive girl, and she could sing. So what? Girls like her were a dime a dozen these days.
Eliot nodded approvingly, and wrote a quick note on his pad. The music continued, building in intensity, and then Axel lifted the hand mike and began singing. Sally joined him, providing a subtle counterbalance to his rich, strong voice that shook the speakers positioned around the stage.
Tiffany relaxed, enjoying the music and the sensual arousal of her brother's voice. Mentally she catalogued Sally's movements, the way she clung to Axel's arm as she shared the mike with him, her thin face radiating the spirit of the song, her body undulating, tits jiggling (Tiffany knew that Sally never wore a bra) and hips jerking in unsubtle parody of sex-back and forth, around and around, almost as if she were screwing an invisible cock . . .
Eliot grunted his approval as the number came to a loud conclusion, and Axel stepped back, exchanged a word with the drummer, then sat down, wiping his forehead. It had been an athletic workout, and Tiffany could see the sweat beading on his chest through the open cleavage of his shirt. God, he had a sexy chest, she thought, smooth and muscular. She remembered running her hands over it the night before as she had straddled him, feeling her tits rubbing over his flesh . . .
She glanced up at Eliot for a moment, and noticed that he was frowning. "Axel." His voice rang out. "Let's take the last thirty-two bars again. And this time, wait till the drum roll ends before coming in for the final beat. Okay?"
Axel nodded, stood up and walked forward. He signaled the group, and they exploded once more into the final portion of the song.
Tiffany slid down slightly in her seat, her eyes glued to her brother, and in her mind she saw herself next to him, singing, moving, being part of the indefinable charisma that typified the rock scene . . . the loud music . . . the lights . . . the numbing beat. . .
God, it was going to be wonderful; almost as good as fucking, she thought, giggling to herself. But then, nothing was really as good as a fuck, especially with someone like her father or her brother . . .
Eliot glanced wearily at his watch. "Christ, three hours," he muttered. "I'm exhausted."
He looked up at the stage. "Okay, kids, that's it," he shouted. "Go home, rest, sleep, do whatever, but be fresh for tonight. Seven-thirty in the dressing room."
The relief was evident on the faces of the musicians, and even Sally gave a mild whoop of pleasure. She turned to Axel, and placed her lips to his ear. "Wanna come back with me to the hotel?" she asked seductively, and he grinned.
"Why not?"
"I mean, we can get some sleep, can't we?" she giggled. "After we've balled."
"You're too much," he said pleasantly, and taking her arm, he led her off the stage and back to the dressing room.
Eliot glanced over his notes and with a sigh, stood up.
"Come on, Tiffany," he said. "We're going back to the house now."
They climbed the steps on to the stage and followed the group back to the dressing room. As they entered, Sally and Axel broke away from each other and looked over at them.
"Okay, you two," said Eliot, plumping into a chair. "I think I've given you all the notes. You ready, Axel? We're going back to the house."
Axel shifted uncomfortably. "I think I'll stay in town, Dad," he said. "I can rest up at the hotel."
"With Sally?" Eliot laughed derisively. "Not a chance. You're coming home. I want you in good shape for tonight."
Sally's eyes flashed. "Look, Eliot," she said, her voice harsh. "We dig each other. I'll see to it he gets his rest."
"I think for once I'm pulling rank," replied Eliot evenly, "Axel's coming home." He smiled, trying to relieve the bluntness of his words. "You'll have plenty of time later."
"Dad, I'd really rather stay," said Axel. "Come on, what's eating you?"
"Nothing. I just want to make sure you don't waste your energy before tonight." He stared at Sally, pursing his lips. "In fact, before we leave, I want to talk to Sally. Alone."
Axel looked at him, then at Tiffany. "Okay, okay," he said resignedly. "Come on, Tiff. I'll walk to the car with you." He turned to Sally. "See you tonight."
She pouted. "For Chrissake," she snapped. "I just don't-"
"Sally!" Eliot's voice stopped her. "Okay, kids, you run on. I'll join you in a few minutes."
Axel kissed Sally briefly, and then left the room. Tiffany followed him, her heart pounding, her eyes shining with triumph. She knew what her father was going to say.
" 'Bye, Sally," she said, and walked quickly out, running down the hallway to catch up with Axel.
"Okay, Eliot, what is it?" Sally sat down in a chair and reached for a cigarette, her eyes staring up at him aggressively. "You want me to lay off Axel, is that it?"
"Not really," replied Eliot, beginning to walk back and forth impatiently. "It's just that I've come to a decision about the group, and I think it's only fair you should know."
"A decision? What do you mean?"
Eliot paused and faced her, his expression serious. His heart was pounding; he was unsure how he would phrase the news.
"Well," he said finally. "Tonight will be your last night with the group. I've decided to make some changes. I want you to know this has nothing to do with your performance. As always, you're great. But-"
Sally's look of bewilderment was replaced with anger, and she jumped to her feet, her face flushed. "Replace me?" she shouted. "What do you mean?"
"I mean just that. I want to change the feel of the group, and I think that your particular voice gives it too much of a strong quality. I need someone more-"
"Nothing's happened," he replied awkwardly. "But my prime concern is Axel. I'm sure you understand that. I think it will be more to his advantage to get someone less powerful. You are quite a little songbird, you know," he added lamely, hoping to quell her anger with a compliment.
"You're full of shit," she snapped, turning away and taking a deep drag off her cigarette. "Something's happened. This hasn't come up before, and I've always figured I was part of the group."
"You're a singer who can be replaced," said Eliot bluntly. "And you know damn well you can get another job. You're good, Sally, perhaps too good, which is why I'm replacing you."
"Replace . . . replace," she cried, then her eyes glinted. "It sounds like you've already got someone else. Have you?"
"Er . . . yes."
"Who?"
Eliot shifted uncomfortably. "If you must know, I'm going to start grooming Tiffany. When she's ready, she'll step in."
Sally stared incredulously at him, and then broke into a lengthy, derisive laugh. "Tiffany? You've got to be kidding. She's not old enough. She can't even sing. Come on, you can do better than that, Eliot. Who is it?"
"I told you. Tiffany. She can sing, incidentally, and being Axel's sister will help build a good image for the group. It's the thing now to have family musical groups, you know that."
Sally bit her lip, then took another deep drag off her cigarette. "You mean you're putting that little bitch in my place?"
"Tiffany is not a little bitch," snapped Eliot.
"Oh, but she is," replied Sally. "She's Lolita in spades, in case you don't know."
Eliot felt his color rising and his anger mounting. "I don't want to argue about it, Sally," he said, trying desperately to control his emotions. "And I don't want this to be unpleasant. Maybe I should've waited until after tonight, but since the record agents are going to be here, I felt it only fair to let you know now. You might have gotten the idea that the recording contract included you, which it won't, if we can get it. Now why not be thankful for all the experience you've got, and the publicity, and let it go at that?"
"Jesus Christ!" Sally banged her hand against the wall and turned, her eyes blazing. "Just like that, huh? I get my walking papers and you tell me to be thankful. Shit. It wouldn't be so bad if you were getting someone good. But Tiffany? Do you know what you're getting into?"
"I know my daughter very well," Eliot replied. "And I think this will be a good thing. For her and for Axel, and for the group."
"Like hell. She'll be fucking everyone as well as Axel."
Eliot felt a sudden chill. "What do you mean?"
Sally laughed loudly. "You mean you don't know she and Axel have been fucking? Yesterday we all screwed together up in my hotel room. She's a nympho, Eliot, and I'm willing to bet she made Axel agree to this so she wouldn't tell on him."
"You're lying." Eliot's voice was shaking and his hands trembled. "You're lying. You're just trying to save your position."
"My position? Look, Eliot, you know fucking well that Axel and I've been shacking. So what? He's a big boy and I'm a big girl. You didn't say anything about that, but let me tell you, Tiffany's going to be doing just as much fucking with him, with the band, with anyone who's around with a hard-on. Don't tell me, baby. I was her age once, and I was sucking cock long before she started. Oh, shit . . . " Her voice trailed off and she turned away. "Okay," she muttered, almost inaudibly. "I'm sorry, Eliot."
He walked over to her, and put his arm around her shoulders. "I am, too," he said sincerely. "But I'm glad you told me about Tiffany. It's made something very clear to me now. But that's no concern of yours. And it doesn't alter my decision. Tonight's your last night." He lifted her chin and stared into her eyes. "I hope for your own sake you'll make it your best."
She nodded. "I will. I know what it means to Axel, and you see-" She faltered, and her voice broke. Quickly she composed herself and wiped away the wetness that had threatened to spill over the corners of her eyes. "I happen to love Axel very much. But then that's the breaks, I guess?"
"Love?" Eliot shook his head slowly. "Don't use that word, Sally. In any case, you should know it's useless loving a musician. Especially someone like Axel, who's on his way up. There'll be dozens of chicks before he's ready to settle down with one."
She nodded. "Okay, but that doesn't change the way I feel. I really dig him, Eliot. It's a pity he's got such a fucking bitch for a sister. At least I never fucked my brother."
"Come on, forget it. I want you to go back to the hotel now, and get some rest. I want you to be good tonight, remember."
Sally shrugged. "I won't say how I'll be. Maybe if Axel came back with me, I'd be good tonight," she said meaningfully. "I know there's only one thing that'll pick me up now."
"Now you're full of shit," he snapped. "You can have him after the show tonight. Not before."
Her eyes blazed suddenly. "Listen, Eliot, I've changed my mind. Either I get Axel this afternoon or I don't go on tonight. Take your choice."
"I know you don't mean that," he replied, turning away and pausing at the door, his fingers on the handle. "Now do like I say, and you be here tonight, bright and sparkling and sing your best. If you care about Axel, that's what you'll do. See you, Sally."
He closed the door behind him and began walking out to the parking lot. As he left the stage door, he heard the clatter of heels on the concrete, and, turning, he saw Sally running after him. "Eliot, wait."
He paused. "What is it?" he said wearily as she stopped, breathless, in front of him.
"You'd better make your choice, buster," she snapped. "Or you won't have a singer tonight."
"Go to hell," he snapped, pushing past her toward the car.
"I mean it," she shouted, and then, her lip curling with disgust, she turned and went slowly back into the building.
Eliot made his way through the cars and climbed into the driver's seat of their limousine. Axel was leaning back against the headrest, his eyes closed.
Eliot waited a moment. He stared at Tiffany, his eyes glinting; his mind was ringing with Sally's accusations, and he wondered if she had been lying. Yet in his heart he knew it was the truth, and inwardly he shuddered.
"Come on, let's go." Axel's voice broke the silence.
"I told Sally," Eliot said simply. "She's madder'n hell."
"I'm not surprised," replied Axel. "But she is going on tonight, isn't she?"
Eliot hesitated. "Well, at first she said she would," he said gravely. "But then she refused. Unless-" He paused. "Unless you spent the afternoon with her."
Axel's face lit up. "Okay," he said, his hand reaching for the door latch. "See you later."
"Wait a minute." Eliot put out his hand, restraining his son's action. "I never said-"
"No, you didn't," Axel interrupted him. "But she's got to go on, so there's only one thing for me to do. Right?"
He slipped out of the car and ran eagerly across the parking lot. Eliot sighed and started the car. Moments later he and Tiffany were heading back to Evanston.
Sally looked up as the door burst open and Axel came into the dressing room, his face glowing and his eyes shining. Without a word, she went to him, pressing herself to his body. Breathlessly they broke apart, and he leaned forward and kissed her quickly.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "But it's not my decision. You know that."
"I know," she replied softly. "But then . . . " She shrugged and attempted a laugh, "That's show biz."
"Come on," he said. "Let's go back to the hotel and I'll show you how I feel."
"I know how you feel," she answered him, her hand straying between his thighs and caressing his cock, making him quiver with excitement. "Come on."
Arm in arm, they left the building and walked rapidly along the street toward the hotel. Axel's mind was teeming with conflicts over the situation; he knew that there was nothing he could do to alter the facts-Sally would be leaving, and Tiffany would be joining the group. At any rate, he would have this afternoon, and maybe a few more hours with Sally, and then . . .
They turned into the hotel and made their way to the elevators. Sally kept her eyes on his face, and her hand around him was firm. "I love you," she whispered as the elevator door closed them off from the world. He kissed her, and they clung together until the doors slid open, revealing an elderly couple waiting there. The lady gasped, and the old man grinned. "Honeymooners?" he asked teasingly.
As they left the elevator, Sally grinned. "Nope, just a fast shackup," she said, giggling--.
"Well, I never," gasped the woman, her eyes following Sally as she skipped down the hallway with Axel, both of them laughing gaily. Sally turned the key in the lock, and they entered, slamming the door behind them. He hugged her tightly against his body, pressing her tits against him, locking his lips to hers and pressing his hips into her eagerly willing form. Their tongues played together between their teeth, and she felt the rising hardness between his thighs pushing demandingly into her flesh.
"Come on," she whispered, moving away. "Let's make this one a goodie. It will probably be the last."
"Don't say that," he said, his voice jerky as he flopped into a chair and began ripping off his clothes. "It makes it sound like it's the end of the world."
"It is," she replied calmly, removing her dress. "I'm not sticking around if I'm not wanted. I'm really not going on tonight, either."
Axel paused, staring disbelieving at her, but her face was serious. "You-you're not going on tonight?"
She nodded. "Yup. Why should I?"
"Because you've got to, that's why. You know how important the concert is."
"Important to you, maybe. So what if I go on? You get a sweet deal all lined up and I'm out in the cold. No, thanks." She stood up, naked, and grinned at him. "Come on, let's fuck."
He shook his head. "No. I'm not going to unless you're going to be with me tonight on that stage."
She shrugged. "Okay. I'll just get dressed then." She began reaching for her panties, and he moved forward, his own body naked, his cock jutting from his loins. He took her hand and placed it on his prick, and looked down at her.
"You know you can't say no to him," he whispered enticingly, his smile working its magic on her emotions as it always had. "He wants you, and I want you, Sally. And I want you with me tonight."
Her fingers closed around his cock, and she shivered at the familiar feel of his sex, and almost unconsciously she began moving his foreskin back and forth over the end, thrilling as she felt his cock harden to its fullest state, throbbing beneath her touch. Suddenly he dropped to his knees, grabbed her buttocks in his hands and pulled her to his face, burying his mouth among the hairs that formed her triangle of desire below her navel. She cried out as she felt his tongue probe her canal, touch her clitoris, licking frantically. She closed her eyes and savored the moment, loving every thrill that coursed through her body. She moaned softly, and her hands caressed his hair, played with his ears and tickled his neck. "Oh, Axel, suck my cunt," she murmured. "Suck it good, baby."
He broke away and stared up at her, and his eyes were steely. "Sure, sure," he snapped. "But not if you're bugging out."
She sighed. "Shit," she murmured, her face breaking into a smile. "Did you really think Pd stand you up?"
"Yes," he answered grimly. "And I wouldn't blame you."
"Shut up and get with it," she replied, pushing his head forward and spreading her legs. She maneuvered her fingers under his face and spread her cunt open as wide as she could, allowing him easier access to the folds of steaming, deep red flesh that already was wet with more than his saliva, exuding the musky odor of her vagina which she knew drove him wild. With a gasp he bent forward, his tongue extended firmly, and began slowly working over her clitoris, licking the shaft and pausing a moment on the end of its firm little nub. She groaned and began moving her hips, trying to push his face deeper into the crack. "Yes, yes," she muttered. "Quicker, quicker. I'm gonna come. Axel . . . " Pleased but really surprised at her arousal, Axel increased his efforts.
His hands slid around between her buttocks, and his finger found her anus. He pressed firmly and his finger slid in. She wriggled, gasped and then as he began slowly massaging her asshole, pushing his finger in at the same time as he sucked her clitoris, and pulling out as he let his lips stray all over her labia, he felt her insides begin to quiver. She cried out, grabbed his head, and jammed his face as tightly as she could into her dripping cunt. Her body convulsed and he felt the juices flowing down, oozing past his mouth as her limbs tensed and shook beneath the force of her climax.
"Oh, wow, Jesus, but that was good!"
Axel leaned back and slowly climbed to his feet, staring at her, his eyes moist with excitement. "Okay," he said. "Now it's my turn. On the bed, baby. I'm gonna fuck you."
She looked at him a moment, then laughed loudly. "Like hell you are," she said shrilly.
"That'll come later, baby. Right now I'm going to bed, but you're going to take your rest on the couch. Just like Poppa said," she added derisively.
"What's with you?" he snapped.
"Look," she snarled. "Don't think you can get everything you want from me. And after tonight you're not getting one fucking thing from me, not ever again. Maybe you'll get if from that horny little sister of yours, but not from me, buster."
Axel stared disbelievingly at her, and a surge of passionate anger overwhelmed him. He raised his hand quickly and brought it down, sending her spinning across the room and onto the floor. She glared up at him.
"I'm gonna fuck you, Sally," Axel said clearly and with terrible intensity. "So you may as well enjoy it."
She scrambled to her feet and made a dash for the bathroom door; Axel was too quick. He reached out, seized her arm and dragged her across the carpet and flung her on the bed. Before she could regain her balance, he had straddled her and began pressing his hips against her moist cunt, his cock eagerly probing for entrance. Her fists pounded on him helplessly as he let his tongue stray over her neck and ears. He felt her weakening and then with a sudden jerk, he entered her. She gasped as she felt his thick prick slide into her cunt, penetrating further than ever before it seemed, seeming thicker and longer than before. It felt as though his anger and his passion had given his cock greater strength. As it began thrusting in and out, she had the sudden desire to scream, but slowly the sensations stilled her own anger, and she found her hips moving in rhythm with his, their bodies blending in a consummate expression of sensuality. She groaned, and dug her fingers into his back, arching her body to press her crotch closer to his own. "Oh, yes, yes, Axel," she whispered. "Fuck me, baby, fuck me deep."
The violence, the emotion he felt and the mood of the moment pushed Axel to a height of excitement he had never felt before. He knew he was aroused more than he had ever been before with her, and that his orgasm was not far off. Usually he held it back, savoring the ecstasy that they both felt. But this time . . . what the hell? She had come already when he went down on her. Now it was his turn.
With a massive thrust, he jammed his cock deep into her as he felt the surge of his cum from deep in his balls, shooting out his tube and into her, load after load, on and on as if it would never end. He moaned and sank his teeth into her neck, savoring the softness of her flesh as he drove his seed into her.
As rapidly as his excitement had started, so it left. In seconds he felt himself softening and sliding out of her. He pulled his cock from her and lay, staring at her in bewilderment at the extreme pleasure he had felt.
She glared at him, and then slowly, she smiled and slid her finger along his nose.
"You sure know how to fuck, I'll say that for you," she said teasingly. "Let's have another round."
He grinned at her. "After the show tonight."
"Okay, you win," she sighed. "After the show. Now let's get some rest."
"Yeah, let's," he agreed, snuggling down next to her. In minutes they were both asleep.
CHAPTER SIX
Tiffany sat staring out of the car window as the Illinois countryside sped by, or as much of it as was visible between the buildings on each side of the expressway. Eliot was maintaining a stolid silence ever since they drove away from the auditorium. Normally he had some jocular remark to make, some little piece of inconsequential conversation to break the silence; but he had said nothing except that they were going home to rest, and hopefully get a few hours' sleep as there was a long night ahead. Eliot kept his eyes glued to the road and scarcely even acknowledged her presence. Gloomily she contemplated the situation, suspecting that perhaps he was mad at her. She even had the wild notion that he had discovered her little ruse about joining the group and was debating what to do about it. No matter. Whether he knew or not, she still held the upper hand by threatening to tell Patricia.
Eliot had, in fact, been thinking about the frightening outburst with Sally. He knew that if Tiffany were sexually aware enough to indulge in sex with him, there was an even chance that she and her brother had experimented together; but to participate in a threesome with Sally was too much. Had she been older, perhaps even fifteen or sixteen, he might have condoned her actions. He was shocked that Axel would be involved also. Shacking with Sally was one thing, but having sex with his little sister was another. Yet-Eliot rationalized that if Tiffany had the drive to seduce him, her own father, a roll in the hay with her brother would be insignificant in comparison. He wondered how she had ever gained the courage, the impelling drive to engage in these relations. He pictured her, naked, with Axel on top of her, but then the vision dissolved as he suspected it was Axel on the bottom, with Tiffany and Sally being the aggressors, covering him with their flesh, young nubile bodies, arousing him to such a pitch that he could no longer resist.
The image disturbed him and he found a growing pressure in his crotch. Impatiently he swept the thoughts from his mind, knowing that he would soon have a roaring erection, to say nothing of possible thoughts of another encounter with Tiffany. And he had firmly decided that would not happen; not ever again. He had been weak, but that had been a passing moment. Now that he knew his daughter was sexually aware, he would make sure there was never another opportunity for her to seduce him.
Eliot's mind strayed back to his own teen years, his many experiences during the time when sex was new in his body and he had pursued it until he discovered what it was all about. He remembered again the multiple rape of the young girl in his room; there were also many other episodes, most of them single sessions with girls at school. Eliot had been a handsome and virile youth whose charms were not overlooked by the girls in his neighborhood, all of whom were more than anxious to discover what it was that caused the rather large bulge in his blue jeans. And he was more than willing to allow them to explore. He smiled to himself at the memory; those were the mysterious years, but nonetheless a period of memorable associations that had paved the way for his later sexual prowess with women, his total ability to satisfy them in many ways. His virility astounded himself at times, and while the woman he married and who bore him his two children was adequate, she could never excite him sufficiently to keep his desires under control. At least Patricia matched his own, and he was more than content with her abilities in bed. She also made a highly attractive and enviable wife for him to escort to business functions; she was not only able to fulfill his needs in a marital partner, but he also felt a deep sense of pride in her. He knew that despite the many moments of joy he had with the children's mother, Patricia was truly the only woman he had met who could fuck and suck him enough to satisfy him.
Despite her liberality, he knew she would be horrified by his encounter with Tiffany. It was odd, he mused, that many women who shed all inhibition in bed and fuck in all manner of sensual ways, can very often display a highly puritanical and moralistic attitude toward certain practices. He knew that having sex with one's own offspring would be beyond Patricia's boundaries of acceptable behavior. And even though he had to admit it was the most exciting sex he had ever indulged in, he knew that his own conscience would trouble him for years over the moment. He prayed that it would submerge beneath the surface of memory; he knew it could not, must not happen again.
He had even contemplated sending Tiffany away to school. If she were not living at home, there would be no possibility of any further temptation from her. But it had gone too far; she wanted, to join the group, and only her own ineptitude on stage would negate any possibility of her joining her brother in a career. He wondered what Patricia would say to the decision, knowing that he would have to dream up a very convincing argument to eliminate her suspicions.
He prayed that the child would exhibit enough talent to justify his agreement. But there was still that first meeting with Patricia when they got home, and he did not relish the moment. He could visualize her reaction and hear her harsh words of derision, knowing also that she would be right, but knowing it would be impossible to divulge the real reason for his allowing the girl to join her brother . . . Christ, if only he had not been so easily aroused, and had not let himself be seduced. It did seem ridiculous, but at the time his emotions overcame his reason. And Tiffany, despite her age, was a highly provocative girl; in another year, he knew she would be the proverbial knockout.
"Daddy . . . ? "
He turned and saw her smiling at him uncertainly. "What?"
"You're awful quiet."
"I'm thinking, sweetheart."
"Oh. I thought maybe you were mad at me." He scowled. "Well, I'm not exactly doing cartwheels, Tiffany. I've got lots to worry about."
"You mean me."
"Yes."
"Oh. I thought maybe you were worried about the concert."
"I'm not worried about that. I know Axel will do good, but everything depends on that recording contract. I know we'll get some more bookings for him, but without the album, it won't be so easy."
Tiffany nodded. "I know. But don't worry. Everything's going to be fine. I can feel it." She leaned over and touched his thigh gently. "Don't worry about anything, Daddy."
He took his eyes off the road for a moment and looked into her face. God, she was attractive, he thought suddenly, then chased the thought from his mind.
"Tiffany, I want you to promise me something."
"What?"
"It's about what happened last night."
"Oh. Are you still mad about that."
"No, I'm not mad, but I want you to promise it will never happen again. No matter what. It's not right, Tiffany, and I cannot tell you how bad I feel that I let it happen."
She giggled, "But Daddy, it was wonderful."
"I know it was, but that doesn't alter anything. I was overcome by the fact you're very attractive and when a man gets upset, it does something to his mind. I won't deny you made me very horny and if I hadn't been, nothing would have happened. But you-" His voice trailed off for a moment. "Tiffany, I don't want to talk about it again. Just promise me you'll forget it. Okay?"
She giggled again and slowly shook her head. "How can I? It was the most wonderful moment of my life, Daddy. And I love you. Are you asking me to stop loving you?"
"No, I'm not. I'm just telling you to forget any ideas of sex with me in the future. There'll be lots of boy friends for you when you get a little older . . . " His voice died again as he remembered Sally's words, and he knew how lame his reasoning was in view of her other possible involvements already. How shattering it was to discover his own daughter was already sexually experienced, and that it was her brother who had probably started her off.
"Daddy, you're just being silly." Tiffany's voice took on a sudden tension. "I'm not going to promise anything because you can't tell how things will be."
"All right, all right," he snapped. "But at least you know how I feel about it, Tiffany. It may have been wonderful, but right now I wish it had never happened. I wish-" He sighed, and she reached over and squeezed his thigh once more.
"Don't be like that," she said softly. "No one's ever going to know."
He stared at her quickly, and his features were grim. "You mean no one will know as long as you get what you want," he said dryly. "There's a word for that, Tiffany. It's called blackmail, and it's one of the dirtiest words in the world. Obviously you're not at all ashamed, and you should be."
She laughed out loud. "Of course I'm not ashamed. What I've done is what I've felt like doing. It's been natural. So why should it be wrong?"
"It's wrong to ball with me," he replied, his voice rising in anger. "And just as wrong to fuck with your brother."
Tiffany's eyes widened and she bit her lip nervously. "What do you mean by that?"
"It means I know about you and Axel," he snapped. "And I'm not at all happy about that anymore than I am about you and me last night. Tiffany, I love you, but don't stretch that love too far. Even if it means telling Patricia about what happened, I may still do it, and may still maybe send you away."
"You wouldn't dare," she said heatedly. "And how do you know about me and Axel? Did he tell you?"
"No, he didn't."
"Oh. Then Sally did."
"Yes, she did, if you must know. But what difference does it make who told me? I'd have probably found out eventually."
"Oh, wow." Tiffany sniffed and scowled. "Well, anyway, I don't think it's wrong. If I can fuck a boy friend, what difference is there between someone like that and someone in my family? I love you and Axel. That makes it all right, and I think it's better than screwing some boy who's just after sex and doesn't really love you, not the way we love each other."
Eliot shook his head disconsolately and his mind teemed with conflicting thoughts. "Tiffany, when you get older, you'll realize one of the biggest problems that men and women face is separating love and sex. Sometimes they go together, but most times they don't, which is a sad fact of life. And the love you feel for Axel, or for me, has nothing to do with sex. Right now you're just finding out about sex, and that's no reason to explore it physically with your own family."
"Why not?"
"Because.. . " His voice floundered as he realized that he honestly did not have a legitimate reason to give her.
Tiffany laughed loudly. "You see, Daddy, you can't tell me. So until you give me a good reason, I'm just going to follow my own feelings. Do my own thing. Isn't that what everyone does today?"
"I'm all for doing your own thing," Eliot countered firmly. "As long as no one gets hurt. And if you continue with this idea of yours, someone's going to get hurt, believe me."
"I don't see how. I love you, and I love Axel, and I know you love me. So why can't we show how much we love each other by having sex? It's wonderful. Daddy, it's the most wonderful thing I've ever had happen to me. I can't wait till I do it again." The words were out before she could stop them, and from her father's expression, she knew she had said the wrong thing. Eliot's eyes burned into hers.
"I can understand your reaction to sex," he said scathingly. "You're not alone there. But unless you learn to control it, you'll find you're going to be very alone, young lady, because I won't stand for you being in the same house with me." He paused, breathing heavily, his heart pounding with fear and anger.
"You won't send me away," said Tiffany softly. "Because if you do, I'll tell Patricia."
"So there's nothing more to say," Eliot replied. "But you're certainly making it very difficult to be nice to you, Tiffany. Right now I can't tell you how disgusted I feel, with you, with myself, with the whole goddamn scene."
She bit her lip, suddenly aware that the conversation had gone further than she anticipated. She turned away, and continued staring out of the window until the car turned into the driveway of the house. Without a look at her, Eliot opened the door, grabbed his briefcase and marched up the steps to the front door. Tiffany followed him meekly, uncertain of whether to try and continue their discussion or merely to let it ride for the time being.
They entered the hallway and Eliot turned to her. "Tiffany, we're going to be up late tonight. I want you to go to your room and get some sleep. I'm going to take a nap myself. And . . . " His eyes were steely. "I want you to know that if you as much as try to come into my room, you'll get the biggest spanking of your life."
Tiffany saw that her father's face was taut, and his voice left no doubt that he meant what he said. "All right, Daddy," she said meekly, moving toward the stairs. "But there's no need to get mad about it, Daddy. I-I still love you," she concluded, injecting a tearful break into her voice as she turned away and ran quickly upward out of his sight. Eliot stood, staring after her, a vague feeling of discomfort over her reaction. Had he been too harsh? Was she going to her room and sob her eyes out now? After all, she was only thirteen, going on fourteen, but she was still a child. And if she had made a mistake, did he have the right to vent his own frustrated feelings of inadequacy upon her?
With a shrug, he followed her and went directly to his room, throwing his briefcase impatiently on a chair and sitting down on the edge of the bed. He glanced up and saw that the door to the bathroom was closed. He pictured Tiffany in her room, and for a moment he could have sworn he heard her stifled sobs . . .
Impatiently he took off his shoes and socks and slipped off his clothes, shrugging into his robe and plopping down on top of the bed with a sigh of relief. He was suddenly aware of how exhausted he was. He closed his eyes and slowly relaxed.
Tiffany heard her father enter his room and she pictured him taking off his clothes and getting into bed. Despite her feeling of rejection after his stern words, she found a steadily mounting excitement within her at the thought of him, barely ten yards away, his body stretched out. That beautiful body, so firm and muscular, so tanned, so appealing, and between his legs that large thick cock, laying against those big balls, nestling in their tangle of pubic hair, all ready for her to take between her lips and bring to full erection and then plunge deep into her cunt. . .
Impatiently she stood, her body trembling slightly, and an erotic thrill coursing through her loins. Eliot's words still rang in her mind, and she knew it would be fatal to even attempt anything. She couldn't let him vent his anger; not now. And if she as much as opened the door, she knew she would get it, but good.
With a sigh, she slipped out of her clothes and crawled between the sheets. She was not at all sleepy. She lay still, then as the vision of her father's body loomed stronger in her imagination, her fingers slid down between her legs. She probed inside her cunt and gently stroked her clitoris, remembering how it had felt the night before when her father's cock had pushed into her, sending those fabulous feelings into every nerve ending, transporting her into utter ecstasy.
She brought one hand up to her tits and began tweaking her nipples, glorying in their firmness, those hard little nubs which seemed to quiver with every caress of her fingertips.
In her mind she pictured herself tiptoeing toward the bathroom door, opening it silently, moving on to the connecting door and opening that, and as it slid back, seeing her father stretched out on the bed, naked, on his back, and between his thighs, his cock full erection, standing there, throbbing, just waiting for her to come in and take care of it. . . She knew he wanted it; how could he refuse? He had known how good she made him feel. How could he possibly turn down a repeat encounter with her?
Her hands worked their magic on her body and her mind became more excited. Her thoughts hungered for some way to make it happen, make him agree to taking her again, to letting him enjoy her body just as she wanted so much to enjoy his cock.
She couldn't go in, she knew that. But what if she could get him to come to her? But how? He was probably already sound asleep. Desperately she racked her brain, and then an inspiration hit.
With a grin, she sat up and reached to the night stand for the large heavy glass ash tray. Carefully she lifted it, aimed and threw it forcefully across the room. The glass hit the door to the bathroom and shattered with a shrill tinkling sound, the pieces falling to the floor. At the same time, Tiffany gave a loud wail and turned over, burying her face in the pillow and sobbing with as much force as she could muster. She paused a moment, listening. There was no sound from the next room. She resumed her pitiful sounds once more, lifting her mouth off the pillow to let her voice echo around the room.
Eliot had felt himself sliding slowly into sleep when he heard the loud crash against the bathroom door, followed by the muffled sound of Tiffany's sobs. He sat up, frowning, his heart beating with sudden apprehension. What was it? Had she merely fallen, or what? Without pausing to think, he jumped off the bed and ran across the room, flinging open the bathroom door and going quickly into Tiffany's room. As he threw open the connecting door, he saw the large pieces of the broken ash tray on the floor. He raised his eyes and saw her in bed, her face pushed deep into the pillow.
"Tiffany!"
She raised up and her hp trembled. "I'm sorry, Daddy. I didn't mean to wake you."
"What's going on?"
"I-I just got mad and threw the ash tray, that was all."
Eliot bent down and carefully picked up the pieces of glass. He carried them over to the trash and dropped them in, then went to her, sitting on the edge of the bed.
"That wasn't very nice, you know that, huh?"
She turned away from him, hiding her eyes beneath her fingers.
"Tiffany."
"Daddy, leave me alone."
"Tiffany, there's nothing to cry about."
"You shouted at me. You're mad at me. You hate me. Go away and leave me alone. I think I'll kiU myself."
Eliot could not resist a smile. "There, there, sweetheart. You mustn't carry on like this." She ignored him and continued sobbing. "Tiffany, look at me."
Slowly she moved her fingers and stared at him, her face reflecting her misery. Gently he put out a hand and touched hers.
"Look, baby, I've bawled you out lots of times, so why this big scene now?"
"Because-because I love you, and you make me feel like I'm terrible just like-like a whore!" She blurted out the last word, giving it all the repulsive emphasis she could muster, and she noticed him flinch. He took her hand and squeezed it tenderly.
"That's not the word I would have used," he said gently. "And in any case, I'm just as much to blame for what happened. I should never have let you go that far. But believe me, what I said was for your own good."
"That's what you always say when it's something I want to do. It's for your own good," she mimicked his voice. "I don't think it's bad and I don't feel bad. I'm just miserable because you don't love me any more."
"Tiffany, I do love you, sweetheart. I love you very much. And it's because I love you that I said what I did. And I still mean it, every single word."
"You don't," she sniffled, trying to coax a few more tears from her eyes. "You think I'm no good."
"I didn't say that," he said, a slight note of impatience creeping into his voice. "Tiffany, you're behaving like a child. Now stop this crying. We've both got to get some rest."
She reached for him and almost automatically, from long years of habit, he folded her into his arms and held her, patting her shoulder. Tiffany felt an immediate thrill at his touch.
"Daddy, I love you," she whispered.
"Okay, and I love you," he replied. "Now come on. Get some rest. We have to get going by about six."
She drew away slightly, but still kept her arms over his shoulders. "Can-can I take a rest with you?" she asked, exerting every ounce of innocence she could in her voice.
He shook his head firmly. "No, Tiffany. You curl up here, and I'm going back to my room now."
She clung to him tighter as the cry broke from her throat, "No, please don't. I want you to stay with me. I'm miserable, Daddy. Come on, please."
Eliot felt himself wavering. If she did feel bad, why not give her the fatherly comfort she asked for? He wouldn't let himself become excited. He would maintain complete self-control. What harm could there be?
"Tiffany-"
"Please, Daddy . . . " It was like a final anguished plea from a soul in torment, reminding him too sharply of the many moments when, as a small child, she would cry out in the middle of the night.
"Oh, all right," he said resignedly. "Come on into my room. The bed's bigger."
Tiffany kissed him excitedly, her heart pounding, and she slid out from beneath the covers and stood next to him, naked. She noted with a glow of satisfaction that his eyes strayed quickly over her body before looking away. Eliot stood up, pulled his robe tightly around him and began walking toward the bathroom. "Put your robe on," he said gruffly. "You don't want to catch cold."
"All right." Tiffany grabbed her robe, slipped it on and followed him into his bedroom. By the time she entered, he was already under the sheet, on the far side.
Meekly she climbed in and lay still, staring at the ceiling, conscious of the few feet between their bodies, and her father's heavy breathing. Was he breathing that way because he was tired or because he was trying to quell the rising tide of excitement in his crotch?
"These sheets are cold," she murmured.
"Go to sleep," he said, his voice shaky.
She remained silent, her mind teeming with possibilities for enticing him closer, for getting their bodies close enough to touch, and once that happened, she knew . . . she knew . . .
"Daddy, are you still mad at me?"
"Tiffany, this is the last time I shall tell you. Go to sleep. I'm exhausted and I'm in no mood to talk."
He snuggled into the bed, pulled the sheet closer around his neck and closed his eyes. Already he regretted his weakening; he realized that Tiffany, having already used her actions to get what she wanted, would certainly not stop now. He would have to be firm, very firm. Nothing must happen-nothing must ever happen again. Gradually he relaxed, and then the numbness began creeping through his muscles, and he felt the heaviness overcoming his mind and his body and slowly he slipped into unconsciousness.
Tiffany had her eyes closed, but her heart was beating very fast and her hands were shaking. She knew her only recourse now was to wait till he was asleep and then slowly, inch by inch, slide across the sheet, her fingers probing ahead of her, and carefully, oh, so very carefully, reach for that one spot where she knew he would be most vulnerable. That enticing mound between his thighs that housed his cock, his balls.
She waited, and then the stillness was broken by a soft snore. She opened her eyes, hardly believing her good luck. He was asleep. He had really fallen asleep, even though she knew he was probably still suspicious that she would try to start something.
She heard him snore again, and shift slightly in his sleep. There was no doubt about it. He was gone, and now the coast was clear! She could start. . .
Slowly, with nerve-shattering care, she rolled over on her side, facing him, and let her hand move across the sheet until it was extended as far as she could reach. Pressing down, she maneuvered her body closer, making sure not to disturb the covers or pull them and perhaps wake him. Scooting her hips forward, an inch at a time, she managed to move until she was barely arm's length away. He was still breathing heavily, and occasionally a snore would startle her, but at the same time, reassure her.
Her hand moved down until it was even with his thighs. She lifted it up, lifting the covers at the same time, and slid her fingers over his hip until they were above his crotch. Down, down, slowly, slowly, until her hand came to rest on his body. Through his robe she could feel the vague outlines of his prick.
For a moment Tiffany thought her heart would explode in her throat. Gently she felt the edge of the robe, and slowly she began pulling it back, off his crotch. It seemed like the movement took hours, but finally she had it clear, and she placed her fingers back, above his crotch.
She glanced up at his face. His eyes were closed, and his mouth slightly open. His breathing was slow and regular. He was asleep, beautifully asleep.
Suddenly she realized that even if she managed to grip his prick, to excite him to an erection, she had to get closer. Her head was still above the covers, and she couldn't suck him off that way. And maybe as she moved herself underneath, he might awaken. She paused, and then slowly withdrew her hand, bringing it up to the edge of the sheet. She took the fabric in her hand and gradually lifted it so that she could, by carefully moving her body down toward the foot of the bed, slide underneath. As the edge of the sheet passed over her eyes, and she entered the world underneath, she found her nervousness evaporating, and she felt she was embarking on a glorious, thrilling adventure. It was almost as if she was in a dark cave, like she once experienced when she and Axel had gone exploring in the hills, and at the end of the cave was something wonderful. Only now she knew what that something wonderful was-her father's cock!
She slid down, carefully replacing the sheet behind her, and her hand went over, lifting the sheet inches from his body, and her fingers once again touched his cock. She could feel the soft skin around the shaft of his prick, and she trembled, a passing spasm of delirious satisfaction, and then, very, very gently, she closed her fingers around his flesh. She could feel the thickness, the smooth skin, and slowly she slid it down toward his balls, knowing that it would move off that glorious flat red head, allowing her to place the tip of one finger under the slit to begin its magic work of arousal.
She could feel her father's body still relaxed, breathing deeply and regularly. Her own heartbeats were fast and so loud she was almost afraid the noise would awaken him; then she realized that only she could hear them, and besides, under the sheets, it sounded even louder.
Her finger moved up and she felt the outline of the head of his cock. She slid around, underneath, and gently began stroking. Almost at once she felt the shaft give a little jerk, and began getting hard. Lights danced before her eyes, she was so excited. He was getting hard! She continued the feather-like touching, and gradually the hardness mounted, extended, and in minutes, his cock was fully erect, the end pushing up. She closed her fingers completely around his sex, savoring its thickness, and rubbing the skin back and forth slowly over the head.
If he awoke now, she knew it would all be over.
She had to get him to such a stage of excitement that even if he knew what was happening, he could not resist-he would have to let her finish.
Carefully she moved her head toward his body, holding the sheet up with her one hand. She could smell the faint odor from his crotch, that musky smell she had noticed before, and her body began trembling. Between her loins she could feel her own juices begin to flow, and that incredible sensation begin in her cunt. As she moved her legs slightly, she felt her clitoris tingle and sensations flood her crotch. She was feeling almost as if a cock were inside her, making her feel that way.
Her mouth moved over until it was just above his cock. Then with infinite care, she lowered her lips and took the head in her mouth, letting it slide in gently before applying pressure, before letting her tongue caress the end and lick the lube from his slit. She felt almost as if she was about to have an orgasm herself, so great was her sense of accomplishment, of supreme sensuality. She had her father's prick in her mouth. She was sucking him gently, and he was still asleep!
Taking care not to move too quickly, Tiffany continued slowly sucking, taking more and more of the cockshaft into her mouth until she felt the head push against the back of her throat. She let her hand trail down over his balls, and her fingers enclosed them, playing with them, rolling them around in her grasp, while her lips continued their sensual motions up and down his cock.
The cock was rock-firm now, and she knew even if he awoke, he could not stop her. Nothing felt quite so good as a nice warm mouth around one's cock, and she kept her lips tightly around the throbbing flesh, letting it slide in and out while her fingers caressed the heavy sac underneath.
Suddenly Eliot moved and gave a soft moan. An icy chill swept over Tiffany and she froze, holding his cock in her mouth, and waiting . . . waiting . . . She heard him sigh deeply and then continue his heavy breathing. Only now she detected a movement in his hips. He was beginning to hump in and out of her mouth, the same way he did that first time she had sucked him without his ever waking. She thrilled at the possibility of completing the act without his even knowing it!
Gently she matched her movements with his own, and tightened her mouth around his shaft. She was trembling still, and the warm glow in her cunt was stronger. She pressed her legs together and felt her clitoris twitch in response. Her whole body was on fire, aglow with beautiful sensations.
Eliot's hips were moving quicker, and in the excitement, Tiffany failed to notice that his breathing was not so deep, and his snoring had stopped. Caught up completely in the forbidden thrills of what she was doing, she knew only that her father was responding, his penis was thick, hard and heavy in her mouth and she was sucking him off firmly, oblivious to anything else but the supreme sensuality of the moment.
She knew already that what she was doing could last only so long before he would reach a climax, but she was in no mood to concern herself with prolonging anything; she knew only that she had done what she wanted, she had managed to have her father once more, and this time she wanted to feel his jism shoot into her, to taste it, savor its salty flavor before gulping it down her throat. She would rather have had him enclosed in her hot little cunt, but she knew there was no chance of maneuvering herself into a position for that; besides, he would most certainly wake up if she straddled him the way she had in the bathtub the night before.
She let her fingers slide up from his balls and she held the bottom of his cock while her mouth licked around the end, flicking back and forth across his slit, and rubbing back and forth across that certain spot underneath the head. Every time she pressed hard, she could feel him jerk and his prick seemed to thicken, to grow harder, and his movements became more insistent. Instinctively she knew it would not be long before he came.
Tiffany's mind was delirious with ecstasy. Not only was her cunt aflame with desire, awash with her juices, but she felt she was almost dreaming, let loose in a land where she was able to consummate her deepest wishes, to express her passion for her father the way she had always felt it-and now it was happening. No matter what he had said to her earlier; no matter how much he had stressed that it should not ever happen again. She had known even as he spoke, that he didn't meant it. He had enjoyed it; he said so. And for her, it was the pinnacle of satisfaction, the ultimate expression of herself and her feelings.
Her euphoric dreaming was interrupted as she felt his body move quickly, almost jump in the bed as his hips came up higher than before; she felt his prick jerk and then instinctively she closed her mouth around the head as it spurted and flooded into her, load after load of hot cum shooting out of his cock. Her tongue tingled at the taste and her body quivered, knowing what had happened. Her own loins seemed to explode and she felt her insides convulse with ecstasy.
Desperately she gulped, swallowing the cum as it continued shooting from the end of his cock in great gobs. Then slowly she felt him begin to soften, and with infinite care, she raised her mouth and let his penis fall back against his body. She remained still, listening, but there was no movement, no noise; nothing but his heavy breathing. He had come in his sleep again! It had happened, and she had not been discovered! She felt a glow of triumph spread through her, mingling with the glow of her own climax.
Waiting a moment, Tiffany slid away, lowering the sheet over his body after replacing his robe across his crotch. She did not want him to suspect that she had done anything while he slept. She scooted across the bed and up, her head emerging from beneath the covers. Her eyes flashed over to his face, serene and relaxed. His eyes were shut, and his chest rose and fell evenly.
With a sigh of unutterable contentment, Tiffany rolled over, away from him, and in minutes she, too, was asleep, drifting off, her body glowing with a sense of fulfillment and her mind floating . . . floating . . .
CHAPTER SEVEN
Eliot opened his eyes, and stared around. Through the windows he noticed the fading light and with a start, he looked at his watch. With a muffled exclamation, he sat up and threw back the covers, sliding his legs over the edge of the bed. As he did so, he felt a momentary twinge in his groin. He gasped and parted his robe, noticing that the end of his prick had a small dried globule of sperm on it which had obviously stuck to his leg. As he had moved, the motion had pulled his foreskin slightly, giving him the sharp sensation. He frowned, realizing that he had experienced an orgasm while he slept. Vaguely memory brought back the thought of Patricia, and he shrugged. He had probably had another wet dream about her. God, it would be good to see her once more, to hold her in his arms and enjoy sex with her again.
He stood up, and turned, noticing that Tiffany was sound asleep. He was about to awaken her when his eyes caught a spot on the sheet. He bent down, and saw several spots on the sheet. With a frown, he stared at Tiffany, and felt a shiver run through him as the suspicion struck: had she . . . had she done anything while he slept? For a moment he pondered, then dismissed the thought. No, he decided, it had been a wet dream. He felt if Tiffany had tried anything, he would have woken up.
"Tiffany."
Sleepily she stirred, opened her eyes and smiled up at him.
"You sleep good, sweetheart?"
She nodded. "Yes. You, too?"
"Yes, I just died. I didn't realize how tired I was. Anyway, it's late. We'd better hurry."
"Okay. I'll only take a minute."
She slid out of the bed and ran into her room. Eliot smiled to himself, and began dressing. Maybe he had been too harsh on her earlier; but then, he reasoned, it was not anything to be taken lightly. He was as much to blame as she had been; it must not ever happen again, and above all, Patricia must never know. He shivered at the thought, and went into the bathroom to splash water on his face and run his electric razor quickly over his chin.
Minutes later they were both ready and making their way downstairs. Tiffany's eyes were shining excitedly, and she felt deliriously happy. She knew for certain now that her father had not been aware of what had happened in the bed; she felt almost as if she had won a major victory. She had sucked his cock again, and if he knew . . . But then, he didn't know. She giggled happily and followed her father outside and into the car. As they drove out the driveway, she began singing, her strong, clear voice ringing out in the confines of the car. Eliot smiled at her.
"Not bad, not bad," he conceded. "Maybe you will do good in the group after all."
Backstage was complete bedlam. Rock musicians pushed past each other, frantically getting their instruments ready, checking last minute details. Theater staff and management rushed up and down the corridors, making sure all the performers who were scheduled had shown up and were aware of their place in the program. In the more secluded areas, young men and women crouched, surrounded by a pall of marijuana smoke, easing their nerves for the ordeal to come, that moment when they would step out in front of the thousands of fans in the auditorium and perform.
Eliot and Tiffany pulled up in the parking lot, thankful that the management had reserved a section for the performers' cars. They made their way quickly along the sidewalk to the stage door, and pushed their way through the groupies and interested observers who lingered in the alley, waiting for the arrival of the musicians they loved.
Inside, they made their way to the dressing room and found Axel and Sally, sitting quietly, talking. Axel looked up and grinned. "Hi, thought you weren't gonna make it," he said.
"I overslept," replied Eliot. "God, I was tired. I hope you two got some rest."
"We did," said Sally, her mouth twitching provocatively as she gave Axel a sly look.
"Okay, we're on just after intermission," said Eliot. "And I'm not going to stick around and bug you. There's nothing more I can say now. I think the rehearsal went well and if you keep the excitement high, you should be home free." He turned to the other members of the group who were sitting on the floor, their eyes closed. "You kids okay?" They all nodded. "Very well, Tiffany and I will go out front. We'll see you afterward. I'm meeting the men from the record company. If all goes well, we'll really have something to celebrate tonight. Break a leg, kids."
He took Tiffany's arm and guided her out the door and through the mass of bodies streaming down the corridor. They emerged into the chill air outside and walked around to the front of the auditorium.
"Madness," murmured Eliot. "Complete madness."
"Yes, but it's fun," giggled Tiffany. "Did you see some of those characters?"
"I know. It's a pity there're so many freaks among the music scene, but then, that's what seems to go today." Eliot smiled to himself. "It's a pity the kids don't appreciate really good music."
They moved toward the box office and Eliot received two tickets in a special reserved section. They passed through the doors and into the auditorium. Several other men and women were already seated. Eliot recognized several executives from major recording companies, and he felt a thrill of expectancy; the two he had been negotiating with were not there yet. He hoped they hadn't forgotten. Axel's future depended on that contract, and he felt positive that if all went well with the performance, the deal would be wrapped up. Not only would it be a very favorable deal for Axel financially, but it could plummet him into being one of the top names in the rock-music field. Only his feelings for Patricia at times overwhelmed everything else; but his children were his first consideration, which accounted for his twinges of apprehension over the present situation with Tiffany.
He had always been close to her, but he had never felt any sexual attraction. When she was younger, they had bathed together often; she had seen him naked. He had always been open with her on the subject of sex, but without any feelings toward her other than the usual fatherly affection. Her assault upon him, both physically and psychologically, had unnerved him and placed her in a fresh perspective.
He glanced at her face as she sat next to him, peering around the hall. She was beautiful, and there was a certain adult provocativeness in her features, almost a sensuality beyond her years. But then, he reasoned, kids were growing up so much quicker today, it was not really surprising that she had been overwhelmed by her burgeoning sexuality. If she had been fucking Axel, it was, in reality, not so great a step to consider sex with her father as well, particularly since they had always been so close.
He wondered how many other fathers had experienced what he had with Tiffany, whether other men of his age had weakened for a moment and experienced the undeniable thrills of fucking and sucking with such a young and appealing body. Had she reacted like a child, he might have felt some revulsion. There had been no trace of a little girl being led into devious paths by a licentious old man; she had been the aggressor, knowing exactly what was to be done, and doing it with undeniable enjoyment and total commitment to the pleasure of the moment. Had it been otherwise, he knew he would have rejected her advances. Looking back, he was dumfounded at his cooperation with her, at his complete compliance with something that was not only contrary to his accepted moral standards, but which he would never have contemplated. Why should he? Patricia satisfied him completely. He had no reason to even use sexual starvation as an excuse for his indiscretion.
"Daddy, look!"
His thoughts were interrupted by Tiffany's excited exclamation and her tug on his sleeve. He glanced over as the doors swung open and the audience began flooding in, hundreds of screaming teen-agers in outrageous clothes, long hair, exaggerated makeup and wild-eyed expressions of anticipation, racing down the aisles to claim those first rows of seats. In seconds the air resounded with shattering cries of enthusiasm, high-pitched squeals of delight.
Eliot shook his head and sighed. Despite his enthusiasm for his son's career, he did not relish the prospect of enduring the evening which he knew would result in a splitting headache and a reinforcement of his distaste for the shattering uproar that always characterized a rock concert. He looked at Tiffany's glowing face, sparkling with excitement, and vaguely the memory flitted through his mind of her mother, dancing with him at the Hollywood Palladium to the soothing sounds of Les Brown . . . so long ago, it seemed.
Axel sat, staring up at his father's smiling face and the approving glances of the two men he had just met.
"Well, Axel, you're everything your father promised," said Nate Johnson. "Don't you agree, Phil?"
Phil Spector bobbed his head up and down, causing his three chins to undulate over his collar, and his flabby face creased in a broad grin. "You betcha," he enthused. "You're really something." He turned to Eliot. "You've got one helluva kid here, Cartwright. I'd heard good things about him, but tonight-wow!"
Eliot beamed. "Well, then we're all set," he said. "Have you got the contracts with you?"
Johnson reached into his briefcase and withdrew some documents. "I always come prepared," he said. "I'd hate for Capitol or RCA to get in ahead of us. Here we are, just like we discussed. All it needs is the signatures."
He handed the contract over and Eliot read it through quickly; it incorporated all the paragraphs he had seen earlier, and he felt a glow of satisfaction to see his terms had been met. The contract was for Axel, and did not specify names of the others in the group, which meant that the replacement of Sally would pose no problems.
"Looks fine," he said. "Here, son, put your autograph on that."
With a wide grin, Axel signed the paper with a flourish.
"And now you, Eliot," said Spector. "Just to make it legal, huh?" He broke into a guffaw.
Eliot signed, and handed the paper back. "Well, I can't tell you how good I feel," he said. "When do you want to get started on Axel's first album?"
"Just as soon as he has enough material," replied Johnson. "But I'd say within the next months or two, if possible. I'd like to see him make a few more appearances like tonight. Maybe out in California, so we can work with him on the album. Anyway, we'll see you in L.A. next week, and we can iron out the details there." He took Axel's hand and shook it warmly. "Good to have you with us," he said sincerely. "I'm looking for big things now."
"You'll get 'em," replied Axel, beaming.
"Now you're talking," roared Spector, his large frame shaking. "I can see the million sales already. Come on, Nate, we got a plane to catch."
"Won't you stick around for the party?" asked Axel. "We're celebrating back at the hotel."
"Love to, but we have to be in New York in the morning. We'll make up for it when your album comes out. Then we'll really celebrate!" He turned to Eliot. "When are you planning to be back in L.A.? "
"Tomorrow," Eliot said. "We're catching the morning flight."
"Good. We'll be in touch. And Axel, again it was wonderful." He turned to the rest of the group, who had been standing back, watching the proceedings in silence. "And you're all wonderful, too. Every singer needs a good backup and you were great." The young men beamed in appreciation, and Sally smiled, but Eliot could tell that there was a steely glint behind her cheerful facade; he couldn't really blame her.
Johnson and Spector moved to the door and disappeared. Eliot turned to Axel and hugged him enthusiastically. "Oh, God, what a relief," he cried. "Jesus, am I thankful it's over." He broke away and grinned at the group. "And you were great, all of you. I've never heard you play so well."
"Okay, let's go back and get blasted," said Sally, taking Axel's arm. "I'm in the mood now."
There was a general murmuring in agreement and they all moved to the door and made their way to the parking lot.
Tiffany, who had been singularly silent, felt a bubbling excitement. Now that Axel's contract was set, she knew that it meant her own future as well. As soon as she was ready, she would be up there with her brother, sharing the spotlight, getting as much attention as he did; she knew there would be no doubt about it. Together they would scale the highest peaks of success, fame and fortune. She laughed happily. She pictured for a moment just she, Eliot and Axel, all together, enjoying each other in every way; she suddenly realized with a tremor that her fantasy did not include Patricia. No, Patricia would have to go; maybe she would anyway, whether she found out about what had happened or not.
"Into the car, sweetheart!" Eliot's cheerful voice cut into her thoughts. She smiled up at her father.
"I'm so thrilled," she whispered. "Isn't it fabulous?"
"Of course."
They piled in and Tiffany snuggled up to her father while Axel and Sally sat close together in the back seat. Axel was chattering excitedly about the concert, while Sally stared into his face adoringly, and with a certain sadness. Eliot caught their faces in the rear view mirror and felt a twinge of guilt. It really wasn't right; the girl deserved to stay with the group. She was good. And she and Axel did make a good-looking couple. It was a pity that Tiffany's actions had such far-reaching effects.
Despite his buoyant mood, Eliot still felt a tingle of apprehension at the inevitable confrontation with Patricia. He knew she would never buy the idea of Tiffany joining the group.
The car roared out of the parking lot and headed for the hotel, only several blocks away. As they drew up outside the brightly lit foyer, the doorman approached. Eliot slipped out and told him to hold the car; they would be needing it again in an hour or two. Tiffany frowned.
"Daddy, aren't we staying here tonight?"
"Of course not. We're going back to the house. Why pay for a room when we've got a place to stay?"
"But it's so far out there."
"So what? Come on, there's a party upstairs."
Tiffany bit her lip; she had secretly hoped they would stay overnight at the hotel, and she would possibly share a room with her father again, and that would mean another legitimate excuse for being close to him, close enough to-
"Come on, Tiffany!" Axel's voice rang out impatiently from the doorway. "You're off somewhere, that's for sure."
"Maybe she's been having a joint on the quiet," snickered Sally. "Which isn't such a bad idea. You got some grass?" she asked Axel quietly, and he nodded.
They moved inside and up to the third floor where a party was in progress in a large meeting room. The hosts were the organizers of the concert, and most of the performers were there. News of Axel's contract had leaked out and as he entered, there was a burst of applause. He flushed happily and waved at the crowd, and as some of the girls surged forward to get close to him, Tiffany felt a wave of sudden jealousy. She wanted so much to be recognized the same way, to have the adulation of the crowd, to have the boys all crowd around her, trying to date her, trying to . . . Impatiently she turned to Eliot and grabbed his arm.
"Let's get something to eat," she said quickly, "I'm starving."
"You're not the only one, sweetheart," he replied, patting her hand and grinning. "Come on, let's grab a table and some plates. I see the buffet over there."
A short while later, they were all seated around a table, wolfing down salad and spaghetti. Tiffany looked over at Axel and her heart beat with feeling for him; suddenly she had the desire to share her body with him again, to express her feelings in the best way she knew how, the way that she had only recently realized was the only way that really meant anything . . .
The music blared from the end of the room and couples were gyrating insanely to the throbbing beat. Eliot leaned back, his mind and body relaxed for the first time in weeks; a mild euphoria blunted his senses, and he lifted his glass to finish his sixth Scotch since arriving at the party.
He glanced over and saw Axel and Sally dancing, and beyond them, Tiffany swaying her body, caught up in the insistent rhythm, as she danced with one of the group members. His eyes lingered on her for a moment, noticing her slender, well-shaped legs, her lithe young body and her ecstatic face glowing with pleasure. She was a lovely child. Child? She was almost a young lady, really; the memory of his encounter with her flooded back, reminding him that she was more than just a child. He felt a passing twinge in his cock at the memory of the supreme satisfaction he had experienced with her; then he pushed the image from his mind and turned, signaling a waiter for another drink. He deserved to get bombed, he felt. This was truly a night for celebration, for tomorrow they were returning home to California. That would mean work once more, even more intensive work to get Axel's first album going and also arrange some more advantageous bookings for him. Also, there would be the matter of Tiffany . . . He looked over at her again as the music ended and she began walking back to the table, laughing merrily with the boy she had been dancing with. Yes, in another year or so, she would without a doubt be stunning.
"Oh, wow, this is really something!" Her voice rang out and she plumped into a chair. "Let's keep the party going all night."
Eliot raised his eyebrow and grinned at her. "There'll be other parties," he said, his voice slurring slightly. "And we have a plane to catch in the morning."
"So what? You can sleep on the plane."
"I can never sleep on a plane," he replied. "And I think it's about time we headed back to the house."
Axel approached and overheard his remark. "You're not driving back to Evanston, are you?" he demanded.
"Of course I am. And we're all going. You, me and Tiffany."
Sally sat down on the arm of his chair and ran her finger over Eliot's nose teasingly. "You're not taking him away tonight, Eliot?" she said in a sultry voice. "This'll be our last night. Come on, that's not very cool."
"We're going home," said Eliot doggedly. "And we'll go straight to the airport in the morning."
"Dad, I want to stay here with Sally tonight," Axel said. "I'll meet you and Tiff at the airport. Promise."
"Nope. We're-oops-" Eliot had lifted his glass and as it slid from his fingers, he tried vainly to save it. The drink went streaming over the table. Tiffany gave a loud giggle.
"Dad's bombed," she said gaily. "Which means he can't drive. So we stay here tonight. Okay, Daddy? Please."
Foolishly Eliot tried to mop up the liquid with a napkin, and felt an awkward flush creep over his features. He was drunk, and he knew it; and he hated the embarrassment.
"Dad, Tiff's right. You can't drive. Come on, get a room here. We'll all stay and then you can pick up our things before we go to the airport."
"Well, I suppose-" Eliot fumbled for words, conscious that Tiffany was giggling loudly, and Sally's eyes were on him, a slight sneer on her face. "Okay, I guess so."
"Goody!" Tiffany's face beamed with delight. "Come on, let's go get a room, then."
"Two rooms," said Eliot very slowly and distinctly. "One for you, one for me, young lady."
Sally exchanged a glance with Axel and giggled softly. "At least we know where you're sleeping," she murmured. "Come on, lover, let's go upstairs."
"Yeah. See you in the morning," Axel said, moving away.
"Hey, wait a minute." Eliot struggled to his feet. "Don't rush off. Or don't you want to be seen with your old man when he's had a few?"
"I'll take care of him," said Tiffany, taking her father's arm and guiding him across the floor toward the door.
"I can take care of myself," grunted Eliot, straightening his shoulders and taking a deep breath. "Okay, Axel, we'll meet you in the coffee shop around nine. Okay?"
Axel waved and disappeared with his arm around Sally. Eliot turned to Tiffany and pursed his lips. "Okay, little lady," he said. "Let's go get us a room."
"Oh, this is fun," said Tiffany, grabbing his hand and dragging him down the corridor to the elevators.
"It's been a wonderful evening," he murmured. "Everything's worked out so well." He frowned and stared down at her. "Tiffany, I don't want any nonsense tonight. You know what I mean?"
She opened her eyes wide and stared at him. "What do you mean, Daddy?"
You know quite well what I mean. I am getting a room for you, and another for myself. You will go to bed-" Eliot realized suddenly, almost humorously, that his voice was becoming sonorous and pedantic and considering the implication of his words, he had the insane desire to laugh out loud; but he controlled himself. "And I am going to bed. And tomorrow we are going back home. And I don't want another word out of you about what happened here. Understand?"
They stepped into the elevator and Tiffany pushed the button for the main floor. Her heart was pounding furiously, and her previous feeling of elation had slowly dissipated.
The doors opened and they stepped out into the lobby. With carefully measured steps, Eliot approached the reception desk and asked for two rooms, preferably close to Sally's. Tiffany stood, her back against the desk, staring out the front door into the street. She bit her lip and she realized that her encounter with her father was fast disappearing. No matter; there was still Axel. Maybe another threesome with Sally . . . why not? If she couldn't work something out with her father, her brother would do just as well.
She heard the jangle of keys and turned as Eliot picked up the two tags and moved back toward the elevators. Slowly, almost reluctantly, she followed him, her face betraying her sullen acceptance of the situation, but her mind was still racing, trying to ferret out some way to get herself into her father's room. She really wanted him; she felt her body responding just at the sight of his massive masculine body, those broad shoulders, that handsome face, and her memory made the form and shape of his prick into an erotic signpost to her private heaven . . .
In silence they rode up and made their way along the hall to their rooms.
"Here." Eliot unlocked the door, handed her the key and pointed inside. "In you go, and not a peep out of you till morning. Understand?"
She nodded, took the key and walked inside. She paused, looking at him, summoning all her reserves of innocent appeal. "I'm scared sleeping in here," she wailed, and he cut her short with an impatient gesture of his hand and a quick, unfeeling. "Shut up, Tiffany," and then he had moved out of her sight, down to his room next door. She heard the rattle of his key and then the slam. She pictured him moving unsteadily across the carpet and falling across the bed. She knew from past experience that when her father had too much to drink, he invariably fell asleep in his clothes. Maybe she should go in and ask if he wanted her to help undress him. No, that wouldn't do; he would be instantly suspicious. And in his mood he would show little patience with her persistence.
With a sigh, Tiffany closed her bedroom door and walked into the bathroom. She stared at herself in the mirror and then turned and took off her clothes, letting them drop carelessly to the floor. She stood naked in front of her reflection, noting with satisfaction how her breasts were beautifully rounded; not sagging like some girls she had seen, but rounded, with her nipples jutting out enticingly.
She pinched her nipples and felt her flesh firm beneath her fingers; a familiar glow began flooding her cunt, and her mind pictured herself beneath-beneath whom? Eliot? Axel? What did it matter? God, she wanted sex, and she wanted it badly.
At that moment she was interrupted by the harsh jangle of the telephone. With her heart almost bursting from her body, she ran to the instrument.
"Yes? Daddy?"
"No, dum-dum." It was Axel, and his voice sounded strangely muffled and vague. "Whatcha doing?"
"Axel-oh." She paused a moment. "I'm going to bed."
There was a giggle and then she heard Sally's voice.
"Hey, you little bitch, you wanna come in and fuck?"
Tiffany could scarcely believe her ears. "Do I?" she replied quickly.
"I thought you would, you cock-happy little cunt," came the brutal reply. "Your brother's here, all horny and with a hard-on and high and he wants to have all sorts of wickedness." There was a thump, and Tiffany heard a scuffle. Then Axel's voice, vague, but angry. "Tiffany, go to bed." The line went dead.
She frowned, and replaced the receiver. So they were smoking pot again; she knew Axel did, and he had told her once that it made him very sexy. So he was high, and he was-
With a second hesitation, Tiffany ran to the bathroom, hastily pulled on her clothes and, making sure she had her key, she left the room, closing the door quietly behind her. She glanced cautiously up and down the hall, then walked rapidly down to the end where she knew Sally's room was situated. She tapped on the panels, and then tried the handle. The door was locked; she tapped again, and in a few seconds, she heard the lock click back, and as the dark oak door swung open, she saw, stretched out on the bed, her brother, stark naked, with his prick jutting up in the air. Sally stood behind the door, grinning crazily. "Well, come in," she said blithely. "He's all ready and waiting. And," she added archly, "so am I."
Feeling almost as if she were dreaming, Tiffany walked into the room. Axel opened his eyes and stared up, focusing on her. He sat up quickly. "I told you-" he snapped, looking over at Sally, but she moved to his side in a flash, putting her lips over his and taking his prick in her fingers. Slowly she pushed him back and then crawled over him, straddling his body and moving her hips sensuously over his cock.
Tiffany stood, staring incredulously, conscious only of her own excitement as well as the acrid smell in the air. Then, galvanized into action by her mounting desire, she stripped off her clothes and jumped on the bed. Sally looked up at her and grinned.
"Okay, you wanna take over?" she murmured. "I'm ready for a rest and another joint."
Tiffany moved forward unhesitatingly, lowering her mouth on to the end of Axel's prick. As the smooth red head slid between her moist, eager lips, she felt her body react with incredible swiftness; her loins seemed to burst into flame and she felt a tingle spread through her. Her mind seemed to float, and she was aware only of the beautiful feeling of having a cock on her tongue once again, while her nostrils took in the musky odor of his crotch and her fingers began exploring the heavy sac. She heard Axel moan in appreciation and his hands came forward, clutching her head and pushing her down so that the end of his prick was rammed deep into her throat; he began thrusting in and out rapidly. She felt his shaft slide in between his skin, in and out, over her tongue, while with every movement her own body responded with tingles that focused on her moist and quivering cunt. She rubbed her legs together and felt her clitoris send shivers through her. Her entire concentration was on the beautiful body beneath her, the wonderful thick, hard cock that was throbbing between her lips, and the ultimate satisfaction of enclosing her brother's cock within her own flesh.
Axel was floating; his mind was euphoric, enhanced by the marijuana and soothed by the sensations bursting from every nerve. "Oh, yes, yes, suck it good," he muttered. "I'm almost there-" With a thrill, Tiffany realized that he could not have come yet; perhaps he and Sally had only been fooling around. They hadn't fucked yet; he was saving it for her, for Tiffany . . . oh, yes, she was going to make him come, and this time she would take all that lovely jism in, taste it all before gulping it down . . . like she had her father the night before-or was it that afternoon-or two days ago-or whenever-what did it matter? It was happening again and the thrill was chasing every other consideration from her consciousness.
She sucked harder, folding her lips over her teeth to make a firm round passage through which his thick jerking cock was sliding, faster and faster, and she could hear his moans becoming louder and his body quivered and strained. She could see his stomach muscles firm and rippling across his body, feel the tenseness in his hands as they guided her head up and down in rhythm to his own frantic drive toward his orgasm.
The world was forgotten; the room had faded into oblivion; she was only aware of her own sensations, being pushed higher and higher; her sweat mingling with that of her brother as their bodies thrashed in the final moments of their mutual pleasure; his sighs and moans and the quivering of his cockflesh beneath her touch.
"Oh, God, Tiffany . . . now-now-harder, harder!"
She lifted her one hand from his balls and enclosed the bottom of his shaft tightly in her fingers, feeling the tube flex and spurt and then her mouth was filled with his cum as he shot great big gobs of his searing jism. She felt the salty taste and then her own body convulsed as her clitoris seemed to send an electric shock wave through her cunt. Her tits tingled with ecstasy and her mind left her body. She felt she was on a gently rolling sea of sensation, afloat on his body while her own filled with his cum and that glorious feeling of incredible satisfaction.
"Oh, wow, but that was the greatest.. . " Axel's voice trailed off and then Tiffany felt him start, almost at the same moment a strange click echoed from beside the bed. Before she could raise off his softening prick, Tiffany felt herself thrown backward as Axel got up violently. He almost jumped off the bed, his eyes blazing with sudden anger, his hand reaching out to jerk the phone from Sally's hand. He jammed it back in the cradle and then Tiffany saw the look of vile hate on Sally's face. Her lips curled off her teeth and she clawed forward with her nails, trying to get at Axel's face, but he grabbed her, and threw her down on the floor. "You bastard," she screamed. "You no-good selfish son-of-a-bitch!"
"Shut up," Axel said loudly.
"What. . . what. . . ? " Tiffany's voice trailed off in uncertainty and confusion.
Axel turned to her sharply. "She was going to call Dad," he shouted, turning back to Sally. "Weren't you?"
Sally's eyes flashed. "You're fucking right," she snapped. "I'll fix your ass but good. And yours, too, you little whore," she added, almost spitting at Tiffany. "Replacing me, are you? I got news for you."
"Oh, no." Tiffany sat up on the bed and shook her head slowly.
"Oh, yes," continued Sally. "You didn't think I would . . . " She turned to Axel, and then, as quickly as her anger appeared, it dissolved in her tears and she leaned forward, sobbing bitterly, rocking herself back and forth on her heels, her body shaking uncontrollably. Axel looked at Tiffany; his face fell and he shrugged his shoulders helplessly.
"Sally . . . "
"Don't say anything." The words were wrung from her lips like a desperate cry. "Just don't say one fucking thing." Slowly her sobs subsided, and she lifted her face to him. "I'm sorry, Axel. I'm just a jealous bitch, that's all." She sniffed and reached for a Kleenex. She blew her nose noisily and then looked up at him, trying to force a smile. "I guess that's what happens when you get really hung up on someone."
Axel turned away from her and looked at Tiffany.
"Go back to your room, Tiff," he said quietly. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"It is tomorrow," Tiffany said, feeling more than deflated after the unexpected turn of events.
"Just go to bed," Axel said, his voice suddenly sharp as he lifted Sally to her feet, put his arm around her and gently kissed her cheek.
Meekly Tiffany slid off the bed, the ecstatic thrill not even lingering in her mind; she dressed and went to the door, pausing a moment to look back at her brother, lying in bed, his arm around Sally, who lay still, her head on his shoulder.
"You sure you don't want me to stay?" Their eyes met and no answer was necessary. With a shrug, Tiffany turned and left the room. Sally kissed Axel quickly and he reached over to put out the light.
"I love you," she whispered. "Don't," he replied gruffly.
CHAPTER EIGHT
"Well, all I can say is congratulations, Eliot."
Patricia's voice, sharp but pleasant, echoed across the dining room. She smiled happily at her husband, who was sitting, relaxing over his coffee, having just given her the details of the Chicago engagement and the details of the recording contract.
"Yes. It's been rough, but worth it." Eliot wiped his lips with his napkin and pushed his chair back slightly, crossing his legs comfortably.
"That was a good lunch," he commented. "Or should I say dinner?" He laughed shortly. "These fast flights sure screw up one's time schedule."
She nodded. "At least you're going to be home for a while, and for that I'm thankful." She stretched her slender arms above her head and sighed. "I can't tell you how much I hate that cold back east. Of course, I'm sorry I missed seeing Axel, but.. . " She lifted her shoulders into her familiar expressive wordlessness.
"It's all right. I understand."
"I hope so."
"Of course, Axel might have appreciated your staying. It was a big event in his life."
She sniffed. "I'll admit I don't enjoy that ghastly noise they call music," she said. "It bothers me that the kids don't have better taste."
"At least we agree on that point," Eliot said, a tolerant smile creasing his features. He stared at her a moment, admiring her beauty, her calm assurance, her air of self-composure. "I've missed you," he said, reaching for her hand.
She giggled. "I've missed you, too. We'll make up for it tonight."
"You betcha."
"More coffee?" Patricia reached over for the pot. He nodded, and she poured the steaming black liquid into his cup. "Oh, I meant to ask. Is Sally all right? She seemed positively antagonistic at the airport. Hardly said a word, and then flew off."
Eliot shifted awkwardly. "Well, it's not to be wondered at. I let her go."
Patricia raised an eyebrow. "You let her go? What do you mean, Eliot?"
"Just that. Last night was it. I'm replacing her."
"You must be crazy. What's Axel got to say about it?"
"I think it's a great idea."
They both looked up as Axel walked into the room and sat down at the table. Patricia continued to stare at him disbelievingly.
"You think it's a great idea," she mimicked his voice. "Well, let me tell you, I think you're losing one of the things that probably helped you get that recording contract. I don't understand it. Sally's just-" She groped for words, "Well, she's part of the group, that's all."
Axel looked at his father and pursed his lips. "How about some coffee, huh?" he said lightly, smiling at Patricia. She nodded, and passed him a cup.
"Eliot?"
"Yes, dear."
"Eliot, don't ignore me, please. I said."
"I heard you, Patricia, and I'm not ignoring you," Eliot replied, his voice firm. "But you must remember that Axel's career has been my prime concern for a long time. Longer than you and I have been married, in fact. You don't think I'd do anything to prejudice that, now, do you?"
"What do you mean? I'm quite aware of your handling Axel. But dammit, Eliot, I've also been in the business a long time, and this sort of decision strikes me as rather foolish. Sally's been with the group sometime. She's a definite asset." She continued frowning at her husband, trying to fathom the look of apprehension on his face. "Or maybe something happened? Was that it? Has she-has she done something?"
"Er-no, not really."
"Well, then, why let her go?"
Axel broke in, his voice strong and at the same time trying to placate her. "Pat, you know me'n Sally've been shacking." She nodded. "Well, like it's over. And I don't want her around. She's a drag. She-well, shit, she's just too much."
Patricia coughed delicately. "I won't deny that your little affair hasn't exactly been what I consider acceptable behavior, but I try to understand, to move with the times." She looked at Eliot for approval. "But your lack of involvement shouldn't have any bearing upon her professional status. Not every girl singer sleeps with the band leader, just like every actress doesn't sleep with her manager." She looked archly at Eliot. "Unless, of course, she plans to marry him," she added with a grin, putting out her hand and touching his.
"Look, Patricia, I don't think anything's to be gained by discussing the matter. It's already been decided."
"Oh." Patricia's voice took on an edge. "I thought at least you might have discussed it with me, if for nothing else than courtesy. After all, I may only be Axel's stepmother, but I do have his interests at heart the same as you. And," she said, a superior smile crossing her lips, "two heads are usually better than one, not so?"
"At times, yes, but in this case, it was between
Axel and me, dear," Eliot said as gently as he could.
"I see." Patricia dropped her eyes and slowly stirred her coffee before taking a small sip. She reached for a cigarette and carefully lighted it before inhaling deeply and blowing the smoke carefully up into the still air of the dining room.
"Who do you have in mind to replace Sally?"
Eliot looked at his son and their glance was not lost on Patricia. She frowned. "I'd say you've already found someone from the looks of things. Who is she?"
"We haven't found anyone. We already have her, right here," said Eliot, forcing a confident smile. "Tiffany."
Patricia choked on her cigarette, coughed loudly, and recovered; then, her face flushed, she stared wide-eyed at Eliot, then at Axel. "I do hope this is some sort of a joke," she said forcefully. "Tiffany singing with the group? That child? Oh, no, Eliot, you've got to be joking."
"It's no joke, Patricia. I intend to start grooming her and as soon as she's ready, she'll join Axel. It'll be a great publicity gimmick. Brother and sister team. Good for the box office. Good for-"
"Good for everything except Tiffany," snapped Patricia. "That child is barely into her teens. She may have some talent, I won't deny, but she's got her schooling to finish, besides growing up a little. Oh, no, this is something I won't allow."
"She is my child, Patricia."
"I don't care. I'm your wife." She turned on Axel. "Do you go along with this idea, Axel?"
He nodded. "I think she'll be great."
"I don't believe you. In fact-" Patricia pushed her chair back and pointed with her cigarette at each of them in turn. "You both look-I don't know-as though-" She struggled for words. "I just don't buy it. It's completely ridiculous to fire one singer before you have another ready to go in. What about the recording session? What about other concerts this coming month?"
"The contract is for Axel, not the group," said Eliot. "It doesn't matter who we have backing him. It's his talent they're buying. Girl singers are a dime a dozen. It so happens I figured Tiffany would make a great drawing card, and especially because of her age. Look at most of the groups-the Osmond Brothers, the Jackson Five. It's that young one who gets all the attention, who packs 'em in, gets the feature stories. No, Patricia, Tiffany will be a decided asset to my plans in developing Axel."
Patricia sat still, her chest heaving, her eyes flashing.
"I still don't agree with you," she said firmly. "Tiffany is far too young. I've known for a long time she's got stars in her eyes, and she probably worships Axel, her big brother who's going to be a star. She obviously wants a little of that to rub off and the easiest way will to be part of the group with him. Eliot, don't tell me she hasn't tried to influence you?"
Eliot flushed. "Tiffany had nothing to do with it," he lied. "It has been my decision. I talked it over with Axel and he agreed."
Axel stared at his father, frowning. "You may have thought about it, Dad, but it was my idea. Remember, yesterday-"
Eliot quickly interrupted him. "Axel, whoever decided first makes no difference. You and I agree, and that's all that matters."
"So I don't matter, then?" Patricia's voice was icy.
"I didn't say that," Eliot snapped, his temper rising. "And for Chrissake, let's stop this idiotic argument."
"Idiotic? Idiotic? Let me tell you, Eliot, you're the one who's being idiotic. I've never heard of anything so senseless in my life. Tiffany's still a child and has no place being pushed into the business, at least not until she's matured a little more and proven that she's got some talent to contribute."
"I've got plenty to contribute, Patricia."
They all turned and saw Tiffany standing in the doorway, a peculiar expression of triumph on her small, round face. Slowly she walked in and stood next to her father.
"I'm sorry you don't think I have talent," she continued. "Maybe I'll just have to prove it."
"There's only one thing you have to do, young lady," said Patricia grimly. "Finish school. Grow up. And then perhaps we can talk about a career. Eliot." She turned to him. "I don't understand this. Only a months ago you were thinking of sending her to that school in Connecticut. We even discussed how good it would be for her. All those plans . . . " Patricia threw up her hands. "And now this. It doesn't make sense." She stared around at three pairs of antagonistic eyes. "I'm sorry, but that's the way I feel."
"I'm sorry, too, Patricia." Eliot forced a smile, and patted Tiffany's arm reassuringly. "But please, you must let my decision rest. I do think I know what's best for my own children, after all."
"Patricia." Tiffany spoke up, a sudden confidence in her voice and manner. "I think Daddy's the one who should say what happens to Axel and me. He knows best, don't you, Daddy?" She turned to her father and gave him her sweetest smile.
Patricia's eyes narrowed. "Tiffany, I think you and your brother had best leave us for now. This is something between your father and me, and I don't wish to argue with a child." She gave a peculiarly cutting inflection to the last word, and
Tiffany flushed.
"I'm not a child," she blurted out. "I'm nearly fourteen and I've got a right to-"
"You don't have any rights at all," Patricia snapped. "Not until you're eighteen. And until then, you'll listen to me and your father. And right now I'm not asking you, I'm telling you to get your ass out of here."
"I'm staying."
Patricia looked heatedly at Eliot. "Eliot-will you kindly do something?"
He smiled at her placatingly. "This does concern the children, so I see no reason for them to leave. They're both old enough to discuss the matter intelligently, and apart from their ages, they do have their rights as my children, Patricia."
"Yes, we're old enough," said Tiffany, her voice dripping with innuendo. "Old enough to do lots of things, but then you were probably doing them long before you were our age."
"That's enough." Patricia's voice cut across the table. "Eliot, are you going to stand for that child insulting me in my own house?"
Eliot frowned at Tiffany. "That remark was most uncalled for, sweetheart," he said. "I suggest you apologize to Patricia right now."
"I will not," replied Tiffany defiantly. "And this isn't her house. It's ours."
"It's just as much hers as ours," Eliot said firmly. "And I'm getting sick and tired of this constant bickering between you two. It's unbelievable that two people I love so much can't get along better. It certainly doesn't make things very pleasant for me."
"I've tried, Eliot, you know that," said Patricia. "But for some reason, Tiffany seems to resent me. And don't you deny it, either," she added, throwing a warning glance at Tiffany. "Ever since your father started going with me, I've known how you feel. But then-" She shrugged. "I guess it's only natural for her to feel jealous. Most children feel that way about stepmothers, at least according to the books I've read."
"Stop it!" Eliot's voice echoed round the room. "Jesus Christ, this started out as a perfectly pleasant meal and now we're in the middle of the goddamnedest row I've ever had."
"It's only because of Tiffany," snapped Patricia. "I think it's time she learned not only some manners, but some idea of her place around here. You know, Eliot, I think that school back east might not be such a bad idea, and certainly most timely."
Tiffany glared at her. "You're not sending me away anywhere," she said menacingly. "I'm joining the group and I'm staying here. This is my home and I-I wish you'd never come here. I wish Daddy had never married you." Her voice rose to its full childish petulance. "I can give Daddy all the love he needs. He doesn't need you for anything-not even sex."
The words were out before she could stop them, but even as she heard her own voice, she felt a glow of satisfaction, a deep warmth emanating from her innermost emotions. She had said it, and she didn't care.
"What-are-you-saying?" Patricia's voice was slow, deliberate and shocked.
"The child doesn't know what she's saying," said Eliot quickly, but as his eyes met Patricia's, he knew his expression was tantamount to confession. He dropped his eyes and felt his color rise.
"She doesn't know what she's saying? She doesn't know what she's inferring?" Patricia turned to Tiffany, her face livid with rage. "Are you insinuating that-that you and your father have-have-" Her voice broke and she turned away.
"Patricia . . . "
"Please, Eliot. I think I'm going to be ill."
She dropped her head into the palm of her hand and leaned on the table. Axel stared desperately at his father and at Tiffany, who was glaring at Patricia, making no attempt to disguise the blunt feelings of antagonism within her.
Tiffany, do you know what you said?" Axel's voice, strained and disbelieving, broke the silence. Eliot stared at his son, and in their glance they knew, as two men know instinctively, what had happened. Axel groaned.
Patricia raised her head and took a deep breath. "Eliot," she said, her voice brittle and sharp. "Am I to believe that you and Tiffany have ever had sexual relations?"
Tiffany's voice burst forth before her father could quiet her. "Yes, we've fucked, and there's nothing wrong with it. We love each other-"
"Tiffany!" Eliot's voice was shaking.
Patricia stared at him and she gave a loud, animal cry, and her face contorted in horror. "You -you -pervert!" she screamed. "You-you-Oh, my God, I don't believe it. I don't believe it. She's making it up, that evil, hateful child. Tell me she's-" Patricia stared at Eliot's haggard expression. She turned to Axel, who was biting his lips and looking as though he was about to break down. "Axel, don't tell me you know about this?" Then suddenly, full comprehension dawned. "Oh, God, you, too?"
Tiffany stared across the table at her stepmother and smiled evilly. "I don't know why you're so upset-" she began, but Eliot's voice stopped her.
"Patricia . . . let me explain-"
"There's nothing to explain," was her bitter retort.
Patricia rose abruptly, pushing her chair away with her legs as she stood, staring down at Eliot, her face distorted with anger. "I'm not staying here another minute," she said, her voice frighteningly calm. "I am going upstairs to pack."
Tiffany gasped, and her face radiated her childish pleasure. "You're-you're leaving?"
"Yes, I'm leaving. And I won't be back."
Eliot reached for her, but she drew back. "Patricia, sit down," Eliot said, his voice husky and trembling with emotion. "I can explain everything." His eyes pleaded with her. "Now do as I say and sit down."
"I will not. You-you disgust me. All of you."
She turned quickly and stalked out of the room, her hands trembling and the beginning of a sob in her throat.
Eliot gave a soft moan. "Oh, my God," he muttered, staring blankly at the table. Tiffany put out her hand and touched his arm.
"Don't be like that, Daddy," she said imperturbably, her face radiant. "And you, Axel-" She turned to her brother, who sat, aghast, numbed. "Why are you looking so miserable? She's leaving. We're going to be by ourselves again. I think that's wonderful." She gave a little laugh. "Just think of all the fun we can have, Daddy, just me and you, and Axel." She giggled suddenly. "We'll really have a ball, won't we?"