enovel The Spread Eagles Michael Jaeggers [Future Story Codes]

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The Spread Eagles ....(123k)    by Michael Jaeggers

Preface

I think this novel will surprise a great many people. In spite of the book's explicit sex scenes, the author has written something that is almost theological in its scope; for here is a realistic observation of sin and punishment.

Down through the ages, classical literature (including the Holy Bible) has been filled with stories, parables, and legends concerning people capable of flying who - because of one offense or the other against the Gods - lost their wings. In Genesis of The Bible, the Almighty God strips rebellious angels of their wings and casts them down to Hell. In Greek mythology, Icarus has a pair of powerful wings. The youth insists on flying too high - too close to the sun. The wax melts off his wings; he plummets into the sea.

The author has used both of these themes - religion and mythology - in this story of an airline stewardess who falls from grace. Janelee Morrison, the stewardess, might be called "a modern daughter of Icarus." Instead of Icarus's waxen wings, she flies through the air at 600 m.p.h. in a jetliner carrying 150 passengers. Like Icarus she flies too high, too close to the unbearable heat of the sun of her own conscience.

When Janelee's wings are stripped from her, she does not fall into the sea, but rather into the Classical Hell as described by Dante some 450 years ago in his Inferno: "Here sighs, complaints, and voices of the deepest woe resound through the starless sky. Strange languages, horrid cries, accents of grief and wrath, voices deep and hoarse, with hands clenched in despair, make a commotion which whirls forever - like the sand clouds o'er a barren desert - through that air of everlasting gloom...."

Janelee's personal Hell at the end is a threadbare lumpy mattress stained with the seminal juices and urine of half a thousand men... of which only a few are even dimly remembered.

Because of its highly graphic scenes of debauchery, this book probably will raise the ire of certain censors. As a psychologist, I can only say to them, "If the language offends you, then read between the lines, and think about what the writer has said."

-THE PUBLISHERS

CHAPTER ONE

The deep-throated engine whispers of the big World International Airlines silver jet were replaced by the disembodied sound of a stewardess's professional voice.

"Ladies and gentlemen: We are making our final approach to Los Angeles International Airport. We will land in approximately four minutes. Please make sure your seat backs are in an upright position, that all cigarettes are extinguished, and that your seat belts are securely fastened. Thank you."

Up front in the first class section where Pamela, the brunette senior stewardess, had told her she could sit, Janelee Morrison heard the thump as the landing gear came down and locked into place. Three months ago she wouldn't have known the noise; probably it would have frightened her. But that was ninety days ago... before she had entered World International Airlines Stewardess School. Now, even though she had yet to make her first flight as a hostess, she felt competent enough to reassure the apprehensive gray-haired woman sitting next to her." It's nothing to worry about," Janelee said, smiling warmly, "It's merely the hydraulic system in operation." She added quickly, "That makes our wheels come down and also works the brakes when we finally touch down."

"Thank you, my dear," the woman answered." Really, I don't know how I would have survived this trip without you. It was my first flight. World International should always have someone helpful like you sitting beside those of us who don't feel safe in airplanes."

The fat, nearly bald, cigar-smoking man sitting directly across the aisle from Janelee over- heard the woman. He caught her eye and said in a barely audible voice, "That's a damned good idea; I'll buy it. That would be the only way to fly - to have a nice looking young package like you sitting alongside to hold my... ah... hand! Of course, though, that still wouldn't be as good as flying United." He raised his eyebrows and rolled his cigar around in his mouth as he laughed at his own joke.

Janelee reacted as she had been taught to do in stewardess school." Always smile politely," her instructor had said, "no matter how suggestive the comment might be.

You don't have to put up with 'dirty' talk or someone trying to paw you. If that happens, notify the co-pilot. But... if it's merely suggestive... well, pass it off."

The man had been staring insolently at Jane-lee's legs and breasts ever since she had first walked up the aisle in her navy blue mini-skirt which hit her about mid-thigh.

Her body was worth looking at, and she knew it, too. Small ankles, smooth gracefully curving feminine calves, unmarred and unscarred knees, and thighs that the viewer instinctively knew would feel like warm velvet - even when caressed through the sheer nylon hose that shone like a fine film of water. Once, when she had stood up to walk back to visit with the stewardesses in the tourist section, Janelee's mini-skirt had slipped up enough for the man to momentarily glimpse one lacey black garter and the bare golden sunshine of her uncovered upper thigh. The unexpected sight had caused him to almost swallow his cigar; he choked, but the paroxysm of coughing did not change the lustful desire etched on his face. Nor did it keep his dangling hand from "accidentally" brushing against his leg when she walked past him.

Janelee had mentally said to herself, "You can look all you want, Mister, but no touch. No fat ugly hog like you will ever touch me." And all the time she had smiled solicitously at him, her face not revealing her innermost feelings... just as she had been taught to do.

Now, within seconds after the stewardess's announcement of landing within four minutes, the WIA jet lowered through the high clouds and overcast of the Southern California sky. Descent was rapid, and Janelee made herself yawn to equalize the pressure in her ears. She saw the fat man looking speculatively at her lips puckered in a soft oval and her tongue hiding like a trout in a dark place as she yawned.

Rapidly, she closed her mouth; she knew what he was thinking. That had been about the only thing she had learned from Farley, that some boys and men couldn't help but think dirty thoughts when they watched a woman yawn or eat a popsicle or even suck on a cigarette. Her face flushed as she saw the man grinning; he seemed to know exactly what she was thinking, and to make certain there was no mistake, he punched his pelvis forward in one short obscene movement that left nothing to the imagination. She quickly turned her head back toward the window and the older woman; her stomach was churning, and the vision of doing that with him made her want to vomit. No matter how hard she tried, however, she couldn't get the picture out of her mind... that fat, lewdly grimacing face which would be looking down at her, his porcine hands with its manicured nails in her blonde hair, the dead-white blubbery folds of skin that would bulge over his midriff, her hands clutching the back of his ham-like thighs; and he'd probably be as bristly as an Arkansas hog, she thought. The image shimmered and now he was replaced by a picture of Farley - with the same lustful, wanting look on his face. That scene vaguely excited and repulsed her at the same time and, without conscious volition, she felt her thigh and buttocks muscles flex forward slightly.

Suddenly the jet broke through the overcast, and she gasped as she saw Los Angeles stretching for miles and miles in all directions. The silver white ribbons of the freeways were blackened by moving dots of automobiles. To the left she could see the shining waters of the Pacific; to the right the mountains stretched back, back to the desert which always had lurked just beyond the limits of Southern California's cities.

The jet came down like a satiated silver phallus reluctantly slipping out of the womb of heaven. Now the houses and roads seemed almost close enough to reach out and touch. As they flashed past a huge race track oval, Janelee could see the thousands of people standing in front of the grandstand. Little blue lakes were scattered through the middle of the infield. There was even a parade of horses on the track. Then the plane was rushing lower and lower and lower, until she caught a glimpse of the runway light stanchions flash past beneath the wings. Then they were down. The tires screamed in protest, the plane bounced once, then settled to earth for good. The powerful jet engines reversed and roared. Inertia pushed Janelee forward in her seat. Other planes and buildings flashed past like scenes from a rapidly turned television channel selector. The jet slowed almost to a stop before turning off the runway and beginning its long taxi toward the WIA terminal.

"Ladies and gentlemen: We have landed at Los Angeles International Airport. The temperature outside is a pleasant eighty-four degrees, wind is from the southwest at eight miles per hour. The local time is four forty-one Pacific Daylight Time. This terminates World International Airlines Flight Thirty. On behalf of the Captain and all of the crew, I would like to thank you for flying WIA; and we all hope we will be able to serve you again in the near future. Please wait until the plane has come to a complete stop and the seat belt sign is off before attempting to disembark. Thank you." The stewardess's melodic voice faded and the sound of recorded music came up.

Janelee's heart was beating rapidly. Los Angeles! It was to be her home base for at least the next year. Hollywood! Beverly Hills! Newport Beach! The names were all magic words that opened doors to future treasures she could not even begin to imagine. She was as happy as a twenty-one year-old girl-woman with a perfect body and unshakable innocence and belief in her own destiny can be happy. Her future, bright and shining as the legendary towers of Camelot, were before her. She was so lost in the magic of that special moment that the older woman had to gently shake her arm.

Janelee blinked twice, "I'm sorry. What did you say?"

The woman smiled." I bet you were thinking of a young man you're supposed to meet."

Janelee's eyes crinkled and she grinned impishly." Well... maybe."

The woman said, "I just wanted to thank you again. You've made this trip very pleasurable for me."

They both unfastened their seat belts and stood. The elderly lady looked at the shelf above her head where she had placed a small white box. She began to reach up.

Janelee said rapidly, "Here... may I get it for you?"

"Thank you, dear. That would be kind."

Janelee stood on tiptoe. As she reached up, her mini-skirt rose like the curtain on a theatrical stage, rose up past the tops of her bronzed nylons to the milk cream skin of her smooth white thighs, on up ever higher until the black satiny sheen of her panties came into view curving deliciously over each cheek and pulled tautly into the indentation of her full round buttocks. The show was all too brief; it was a momentary glimpse of paradise. The curtain fell again. The eyes of the fat man took it all in. For a moment he was turned to stone, then he sighed deeply as if he had forgotten to breathe.

Janelee and the woman bid each other farewell. The first class section emptied rapidly. In a moment there was only the young girl and the man. He reached into his wallet and pulled out a calling card." Sweetie," he growled, mouthing his cigar as though he were teasing a gigantic nipple, "I have a brother who's a producer. A motion picture producer! I've been watching you. I think you got talent. Why don't you call me sometime at this number. I'd like to arrange a screen test for you. Call me anytime. Or, better yet, if you're not busy tonight, why don't we have a drink and maybe talk about it. Huh?" His eyes were fastened like leeches on the front of her blouse where it swelled proudly outward showing the incredible bounteousness of her breasts.

Janelee smiled politely, but coldly. They had told her about this old routine also at stewardess school. She glanced at the card and read it aloud, "Harry Moscowitz. Furrier." She put it in her handbag." Thank you, Mr. Moscowitz, but I'm afraid I'm busy this evening."

"Okay, how about tomorrow night? That'll give me a chance to tell my brother about you."

"I'm sorry, but tomorrow night is impossible, too."

"When then?" he demanded.

"I really can't say right now. You see, I'm a stewardess and my flight schedule is so uncertain." It gave her a little thrill to say that. It was true! She was a member of an airline crew - a member of the elite. Only the very best of both sexes - the most competent males, the most attractive females - could make the team. This team was too glamorous, desirable, and much too busy to waste time on phoneys and jerks who used a routine so old that it was actually almost hilarious to hear it uttered.

The fat man was persistent; a film of perspiration had broken out on his forehead and upper lip. He said abruptly, "Yeh... I know you're a hostess... that's why I asked you out tonight. Thought you might like to do a little playing for paying on your night off."

"Goodbye, Mr. Moscowitz!" Her voice was cold and furious. How dare he? The colossal gall of the man to think she would ever stoop to anything so low. And with him! She turned and walked rapidly toward the rear of the plane, knowing she had to get away before she insulted him. It wouldn't pay to have a complaint lodged against her even before she had made her first flight.

Pamela, the senior stewardess on this flight, was ushering the last of the economy section tourists off the plane. She looked back over her shoulder, saw Janelee, shrugged, and rolled her eyes upward in mock disgust at the cattle-like slowness of the passengers. Finally the plane was emptied of customers. Pamela and the second ranking hostess, Joyce, both sat down and kicked off their shoes." Oh, God..." Pamela moaned." My feet are killing me." Joyce was silent as she rubbed the balls of her feet.

Janelee smiled at them in comradeship. This, too, had been explained to her in stewardess school. They had said, "On the average WIA coast to coast flight with a full manifest, you can expect to walk a minimum of three miles during the flight. Most of the time you will be carrying things which makes the walking even more difficult. So you girls had better come clean now if any of you have had foot trouble in the past and have hidden it from our flight surgeons."

Two other stewardesses - from the front section of the plane - came back and sat down beside them. They, too, moaned about their aching backs and feet.

Pamela grinned up at Janelee, "Still happy about joining our slave gang?"

"Oh, yes!" Janelee said spontaneously.

Joyce sighed wearily and, without looking up, commented, "You'll be sorry."

Pamela stared at Janelee." It really isn't all it's cracked up to be. It's damned hard work."

"I'm not afraid of hard work; I had to sign that statement in blood before they would let me in the International Division," she laughed.

Joyce shook her head and made an unladylike snort, "The International Division... the International Division! That's all anyone thinks about when they first join good old WIA. You can see it now. Candlelight in an exclusive restaurant in Rome, strolling along the Seine with a Grand Prix race driver while an accordionist plays love songs, laughing gaily as you run through the rain beneath the Tower of London, a hot-eyed toreador dedicating the bull to you in Madrid, an excitingly cruel son of a sheik courting you in Cairo. It never works out that way. It's all bull shit, if you'll pardon the expression. The Roman turns out to smell of garlic and unwashed clothes, even though he's wearing a $250 suit and drives a Ferrari. The race driver is impotent because of a crash. And the rain you run through in London continues to fall and fall and your clothes get rotten from mildew. The toreador in Madrid has a second-grade education and likes boys. And the son of a sheik is a son of a bitch who loves to do all sorts of exotic things with cigarette butts, bull whips, and coke bottles."

"My... my. We are bitter tonight," Pamela said.

"Well, damnit, it's true and you know it. That's why you got off the International Division. Isn't it?"

Pamela merely raised her eyebrows and shrugged again. She pressed her feet back into shoes as the purser came on the plane. He gave a cursory glance at the printed cocktail tally, sealed the cash envelope, initialed it, and said, "Okay, gals. You're free to go. Don't forget to take your pills...."

Pamela made a half-hearted swing at him, and he backed away laughing. The girls lost no time in leaving the plane; they quickly grabbed their flight bags and went through the loading ramp into the WIA passenger terminal. The five women drew admiring glances from the men, covetous looks from the women, as they strode in a group across the lobby. Janelee was aware that she was the one drawing the most stares.

"Want a ride to the Hollywood Knickerbocker in the crew car, Janelee?" Pamela questioned.

"Oh, may I? Can you wait just a sec until I get my luggage?"

"Sure. We'll be out front."

Janelee hurried to the carousal luggage conveyor and immediately spotted her two new suitcases and new garment bag. A porter carried them outside to the crew station, where a WIA micro-bus waited.

A few moments later the girls - taking up the two back seats - together with the co- pilot and flight engineer, sitting in front, were heading north toward the mountains.

Traffic was extremely heavy. At times the bus moved only a few feet before stopping.

The smell of the smoggy exhaust caused Joyce to complain bitterly. Janelee didn't notice it; she was too busy gazing in open-mouthed wonder at everything she saw.

She was aware that none of the other drivers caught in the traffic jam looked particularly happy. The late afternoon heat seemed to be getting to the stewardesses, all of them looked exhausted. The flight engineer was sound asleep, and the co-pilot looked as if he was drugged. Only Janelee was cool, aloof, and happy.

Pamela asked, "Have you got a place to stay?"

Janelee nodded eagerly." With another WIA stewardess, maybe you know her, Gina Castellano." She saw the four girls suddenly come to life and look at each other stunned.

The co-pilot whipped around with his lips pursed in a whistle." Like, Wow! We got high voltage stuff here riding with us, and didn't know it," he said, gazing in open speculation at Janelee.

There was a tone in his voice that mystified Janelee. Too, the expression on the other girls' faces really needed some explanation." Why?" she asked." What's wrong?"

The girls all glanced expectantly at Pamela who, after all, had been responsible for bringing up the subject. Pam gazed thoughtfully at Janelee. She seemed uncertain as to how to begin. Finally she gave a characteristic little shrug and asked, "You know Gina very well?"

"We went to high school together. She's two years older than I am, but we worked in the same summer camp as life guards. I haven't seen her in three years, but she's still my best friend. We write each other all the time. She got me into stewardess school. She even helped put me through my last semester at Windsor College."

"Oh."

"'Oh,' what?"

"Well...." Pamela obviously was searching for words. She shrugged, "I guess I was just trying to say that if you haven't seen Gina in three years that maybe you'll find her different. She's really quite the... the... ah... glamour girl of the International Division."

Joyce, who was filing her nails, said somewhat sarcastically, "Gina... now there's a person who really digs the International Division."

Mac, the young co-pilot, grinned and said, "Mee-oww! We are being catty tonight."

Joyce had opened her mouth to retort when Pamela snapped, "Knock it off, both of you."

Janelee had followed all this without comprehension. She shook her head, "I don't understand."

Pamela said simply, "Forget it, Janelee. We're all bushed. Gina's in another division; none of us know her too well."

Mac groaned low in his throat and rolled his eyes around, "I wish I knew her better."

That apparently ended the topic. Not a dozen words were spoken during the rest of the trip into Hollywood. Joyce and one of the other hostesses went to sleep.

Pamela's head jerked several times as she dozed off and abruptly returned to consciousness.

An hour and five minutes after they had left the airport, the crew turned right off of La Brea Avenue onto famed Hollywood Boulevard. Janelee's eyes glittered as the car passed Grauman's Chinese Theater. They drove down the avenue of stars - so called because of the large gold stars lettered in stars names inlaid in the cement of the sidewalk. Hollywood! Hollywood! She had made it this far already; it was further away from Venton, Oklahoma, than she had ever dreamed she would be.

The crew car stopped in front of the Hollywood Knickerbocker Hotel. The blue- coated doorman opened the rear doors of the micro-bus. Janelee felt full of energy and happiness. She turned breathlessly to say something to Pamela, but saw the senior stewardess was yawning disinterestedly. Janelee glanced at the rest of the crew; they were all washed out. They no longer seemed the least bit glamorous to her. She abruptly recalled the snide remarks about Gina, and how they had referred to her as "a glamour girl."

But, of course, she thought, they would think that. Gina is in the International Division. Only the very best people could get into that. You had to speak at least one foreign language to make the crew lists. This bunch here were all jealous. Of course!

It was only natural. The choice assignments went to the International Division. That's where the glamour was. The girls on the WIA domestic runs were really not much more than restaurant and cocktail waitresses; the pilots just the same as bus drivers.

"No waitress chores for me," she mentally said, knowing that she would never be happy until she had the very best clothes, the very best car, and the kind of happiness that only a great deal of money could buy. All of that could be found in the International Division, and if this pathetic group of washed out bus jockeys and foot- weary waitresses had thought Gina was glamorous," just wait until they .caught a glimpse of Miss Janelee Morrison! She had always been better looking and more popular than Gina; and her figure had been riper - even when she was thirteen and Gina almost sixteen.

Janelee jauntily stepped out of the crew car and into the balmy air of Hollywood. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes beatifically. Sunset was beginning to paint the towers of the city pink. The cacophony of traffic came to her as a vital strange wild music which she could feel throbbing through the hard pavement. She could feel the heart of the city. She hardly heard Pamela and Joyce's "goodbye."

This was going to be her home base for the next year. More than that, it was going to be her city. She smiled rapturously as the hotel doorman blew a whistle summoning a yellow chariot for her. She wanted to kiss him as he doffed his hat after closing the taxi door. She wanted to sing. She wanted to cry. She had never before felt so happy or so sure of herself as she gave Gina's address to the cab driver, and they began winding up toward the Hollywood hills where fairy tale mansions perched like eagle nests.

CHAPTER TWO

The taxi serpentined up the hill - higher, higher, always higher. Occasionally, as it swung around a curve, Janelee could see the entire Los Angeles basin, from mountains to shining sea, spread out beneath them. A few lights were beginning to come on in the city, and the sun had set leaving behind a royal purple ermine band on the western horizon. The sight was so breathtaking that Janelee felt almost as if she were going to weep.

Twenty minutes after they left the Hollywood Knickerbocker, the cab passed through an ornate wrought iron gate and drove down a winding driveway to what was obviously a very expensive modernistic home sitting low to the ground. Two small neo-Roman columns supported the portico. Three Carrara marble statues of Greek nymphs gamboled in the shadows of the porch. There was a profusion of blossoming and flowering shrubs. The driver shut off the engine, and the warm silence of the canyon came to her.

"Here we are, lady," the cab driver said.

"There must be some mistake," Janelee answered." This can't be Gina's house."

"You did say 7973 Strawberry Canyon, didn't you?"

Janelee merely nodded.

"No mistake."

"But... but... it can't be," she insisted.

"Look, lady. This is 7973 Strawberry Canyon. I'm at the right address; you may not be, but I am."

Janelee opened her purse and withdrew the letter she had received five days ago from Gina. She quickly scanned the missile looking for the correct address. She came to the paragraph which read: "You can stay with me until you get settled in a place of your own. When you get to L.A., tell the driver you want to go to 7973 Strawberry Canyon Road. It is just off Lookout Drive and Mulholland. I'm scheduled for the Paris flight tomorrow and if there are any weather delays anywhere along the line, I may not be there when you arrive. If I'm not home, I will have left a key for you under the gardenia .planter."

The driver impatiently drummed his fingers on the back of the seat as he waited for Janelee to complete the reading of the letter. The meter ticked and moved ahead another twenty cents.

Janelee said, "Just a second until I check, will you?"

"I ain't going no place, lady. Not until I get my three bucks and eighty cents."

Janelee got out of the cab and walked up past the statues frozen into eternal positions of dancing, up the concrete decking which served as a porch, and to the solid black front door. She pushed the gold button by the door. Inside, chimes rang.

There was no other sound in the house. She rang again. Still no answer. She looked to her right and saw several planters - roses, dwarf orange and lemon trees, and camellias. To her left, there was a large black lacquered gardenia planter. Beneath it, there was a key.

Still certain that she was in the wrong location and apprehensive that she was probably illegally entering a house, Janelee unlocked and pushed open the door.

Soft muted lights came on automatically, along with the stereophonic sound of classical guitar music. She gasped. The outside of the house, although impressive, had been deceptive. Why, this was a millionaire's mansion. This couldn't belong to Gina! The foyer led to a huge front room that overlooked the glittering far below. A white rug, so soft that her shoes actually sank deep into it, ran from the front door wall to wall throughout the living room. A monstrous walk-in fireplace of white brick took up half of the east wall; the rest was taken up with books. The south wall was all glass from floor to ceiling. A white couch in front of the window was at least fifteen feet long. Pinned to the couch, so it would obviously be seen immediately, was a note.

Janie: Make yourself at home. I should be back in L.A. not later than Saturday morning or afternoon. If the weather behaves, I may get back Friday evening. I promised Charlene that she could use the bedroom to the right (past the bar) for a day or two when she gets in from Tokyo, so you had better use my bedroom; it's the one to the left done up in pink velvet. If I do get back on Friday, you may have to bunk with me, but the bed is big enough for four people. (Actually there have been six in it. Hah... ha! Just kidding!) Look the place over. Help yourself to anything you find. Pantry well stocked. Buttons on kitchen range may be confusing, but you'll figure them out. See you Friday or Saturday.

Love, Gina.

P.S.: Don't bother answering the telephone. I have an answering service that screens all calls. If it's urgent, they'll ring with one very long ring. Answer it then, please. And take a message.

The cab driver glanced quizzically at her when she went back outside looking stunned at the opulence of the place." You got the right joint," he asked.

Janelee nodded." Yes. This is it, I guess."

"Okay." He pulled out her suitcase and carried them past her into the foyer. Janelee heard his low whistle of astonishment and his exclamation, "Holy Mother! What a layout!"

"It is beautiful, isn't it. Overwhelming really."

"Yeh." He glanced at her in what seemed to be new respect." A relative of yours?"

"No. A girl friend."

He gazed around the room and shook his head in disbelief." What is she? A movie star? Or does she print money for a living?"

Janelee was forced to laugh along with him but, if the thought were known, she too was wondering where Gina got the money for a place like this.

Janelee paid off the cab driver and closed the door behind him. She heard the taxi's motor start up and growl as it went up the driveway and headed back down toward the city. Soft music from hidden speakers serenaded her. She moved almost reverently across the front room and stood at the window." My God, there's even a swimming pool!" she exclaimed aloud.

She slipped the latch and the huge glass windows whispered open. The sounds of evening came to her. A night bird called in the canyons, and, somewhere down there in the diamond-like lights of the city, a siren screamed its way toward tragedy. There was a sucking sound as the overflow pipe pulled water from the pool's scum gutter.

The smell of orange blossoms and night blooming jasmine filled the air. Janelee had never imagined any place could ever be so beautiful. She went back inside, feeling the wonder of it all being replaced by an excitement. This was worth almost any price a person had to pay, she thought. This is what money buys.

If Janelee had been surprised by the luxury of the front room, she was almost stunned by the femaleness and sensuality of Gina's bedroom. It, too, overlooked the city. The bed obviously was a custom-made one; it measured at least eight feet by ten feet. Pink velvet drapes lined the three other walls of the bedroom. Janelee continued to gasp when she opened what she thought would be the bathroom. It was a bathroom, all right, a true bathroom with no toilet or shower visible. In the center of the large room was a sunken pink-marble circular pool about seven feet in diameter and three feet deep. Four steps led down to it. At the far end, gold faucet handles were in the shapes of playful dolphins. A cage of ten multi-colored love birds and cockatoos had been placed in the middle of a row of real tree ferns. Alongside the pool were four monstrous towels that looked as if they had been cut from the richest velvet. An expensive maroon-leather book was atop the towels; as a bookmarker, Gina had used as a string of pearls.

Janelee weakly sank down on a small pink marble bench near the window-door that led to the swimming pool outside. She shook her head. "I am dreaming. This is all too much. Wake up, Janelee Morrison. You have to be dreaming!"

She had started to rise when suddenly she gasped in fright and her heart began hammering. There was a man standing in the grass just outside the window. She put her hand to her mouth; stifling a scream. The man, she saw, was nude! He was motionless. It took almost twenty heart-pounding seconds before she began to realize there was something strange about the man. And then, nervously, she began to laugh. It was a statue... only a statue. She opened the window-door and stepped outside. There he was, some sort of Greek God of love. He was half sitting and looked as though he were about to squat.

Powerful muscles stood out in bold relief on his legs, thighs and back. His stomach was heavily rippled - looking almost as if it were a washboard. But the most powerful thing about him was his penis - erect and terrible in its irresistible magnetism. And then, strangely Janelee felt herself being hypnotically drawn to the figure. The cruel facial expression glared at her in the reflections from the swimming pool lights. Inside herself, Janelee could feel something shrinking back from the statue. She swallowed nervously. Her eyes were locked on that magnificent penis, -Almost as if it had a mind of its own, she saw her hand tentatively reach out and touch the six-inch long marble godhead. It was warm to the touch - still warm from the heat of the day.

Janelee's fingers curled around it. She thought of Farley. She wondered what it would feel like to have that inside her. Suddenly she was aware that her pelvis was pushing forward - as though it were being pulled by some mysterious power beyond human control. It was not until she felt her other hand lifting her skirt that she realized what was happening. She yanked her hand away from the god's penis and, wide-eyed and fearful at her own emotions, began backing nervously away. She went back into the bath area and quickly closed the door behind her. But the thought of sitting in that god's lap stayed with her; to sit in that lap, with her arms around his waist and her legs locked tight behind his back, his penis inside.

Her knees were trembling as she forced herself to continue the examination of the rest of the house. The shower, toilet, and sink basins were all in separate rooms.

The shower itself was almost as spectacular as the Roman bath, for it had a push button console for directing water to any or all of the ten nozzles. Water could come in a fine spray from stomach level in front or back, from directly overhead, from floor level, or at any one of half a dozen different angles. It was large enough to hold half a dozen people comfortably. One red button was labeled "Steam," so obviously the shower room could be used as a steam or Turkish bath as well.

Continuing her voyage of discovery, she soon realized that everything about the house was fabulous.

Finally, she wound up in the front room again. She sank into the couch and, with her feet curled beneath her, leaned back to watch the panorama below. Her body relaxed and, abruptly, she felt a yawn beginning to rise in her. She realized how really weary she was. There had been almost no sleep at all last night. Excitement about her new job had caused part of it. She vaguely understood the other reason.

Farley and she had had one last date together - to celebrate her graduation from WIA stewardess school and to say "goodbye." He had driven two hundred and fifty miles for the date. They had dined, danced, and taken a ride into the country. It had wound up in a heavy petting match in the back seat of his car. Farley's tongue and fingers had tormented her almost to the point of insanity. Farley wanted to go all the way; she had never permitted him that... even though she had wanted to be coaxed several times. She would have been willing for him to use force even. The raging lava fires in the volcano of her vagina had never erupted - not once - never in her life.

That's the way it had been for over a year. It had started sometime after her third date with Farley - while she was still a freshman at Windsor College. He had momentarily fondled her breasts and, for one wonderful second, he had caressed her between her legs. She had quickly taken his hands away, but her loins were afire from the brief touch. She decided she had to talk to someone about her feelings when Farley touched her, so she had discussed the matter with her roommate Patricia who, she knew, had gone all the way with several different dates.

Stammering and embarrassed, Janelee had tried to explain what was bothering her.

"Are you still a virgin?" Patricia had asked.

"Oh, yes."

Patricia thought for a moment, then asked, "Has he ever massaged you down there with his finger?"

Her face flaming red, Janelee nodded without answering.

"Did you feel anything?"

"Yes. I felt excited. I felt as if I were going to explode. It kept getting worse and worse. I wanted to die. I wanted something to happen."

"Did you explode? I mean did you suddenly feel as though you weren't in your body anymore - something like that? Did you relax right after?"

Mournfully, Janelee answered, "No. I kept feeling that way for hours. Am I what they call 'frigid'?"

Patricia had said knowingly, "Just because you can't cum when Farley's playing stinky finger doesn't mean you're frigid or that you've got anything wrong. It's probably that you just haven't been able to relax... and so you can't cum."

"Cum?"

"You know, reach a climax. 'Cum.' Like Farley does when you jack him off."

Janelee shook her head, mystified, "I don't understand."

Patricia had stared at her open-mouthed. "You're putting me on. You aren't serious."

Then she started laughing. "My God. You are serious."

Janelee could feel the unwanted tears welling up in her eyes." Don't make fun of me, please.

I... don't know who else to ask... if you won't help me."

Patricia was immediately contrite. She patted Janelee's hand." I'm sorry, kid. Look... it's just that I didn't realize that you were that ... that...."

"Dumb ...," Janelee interrupted.

"No, not dumb. 'Innocent,' would be a better word."

Janelee wiped her eyes with the back of her hand." I don't know anything, and I mean 'anything,' about doing this sort of thing - with myself or with boys."

"You mean you haven't reached inside Farley's pants and done the same thing to him that he's doing to you - fondling and caressing, I mean?"

"No. He put my hand there once, but I didn't know what he wanted.

Patricia had looked away, staring out the window at the rolling green lawns of the Windsor College campus. She pursed her lips,, obviously trying to think of a way to begin. She sighed." Okay! Let's start at the beginning. First. You do know the basic equipment, don't you? I mean, how we are made differently from boys." She continued without waiting for answer." We have what the boys like to call a 'cunt'; our 'vagina,' in other words. They also call it 'pussy.' They have a penis; most of them refer to it as a 'prick' or 'cock.' The prick goes in the cunt; it moves back and forth."

She illustrated by making a circle with her forefinger and thumb of the left hand and using the middle finger of her right hand to plunge in and out of the lewd circle." That is called sexual intercourse or, to go along with a fine old Anglo-Saxon term, 'fucking.' The first time you're fucked, it hurts like hell. You think you're going to be split right down the middle, and you bleed like a stuck pig. The second time it hurts only a little less. The third time, if it's done properly, it's fun. Fun, hell, it's the god- damnedest greatest most glorious feeling in the world... that is, if the boy does it properly, and you get to cum. When you cum, you just explode down there. You lose all control of your body and mind, and your senses just run away with you. Your stomach and fanny jerks like a runaway puppy on the end of its leash. That's it, baby... that's it! And the best part about it is that you know you made him feel just as good as you feel. He's cumming, and you feel him throbbing inside of you just as though there was a great big old hot hard heart pounding down there between your legs. And his cum is warm and slippery - like hot hand lotion - as it flows out of your belly...." Patricia stopped talking and swallowed; she was breathing heavily from just talking about it. After a moment, she said, "There's only one thing, though. That's how babies are made. And believe me, sweetheart, that's the one thing I can do without... for now."

"I don't want to take a chance on having a baby," Janelee said emphatically.

"No one does. But you get carried away sometimes; it feels so god-damned good that you just don't care, and you couldn't help yourself if you did care. When that happens, if he's not wearing a rubber, you're going to have to douche yourself right away... and I do mean, right away! Within fifteen minutes." She grinned." The girls in Chi house sorority have been known to shake up a bottle of Seven-Up and use that as a douche in an emergency. The best precaution, though, is just take The Pill, the blessed pill; then you don't have to worry about anything."

Janelee was silent for quite a while, digesting the information she had received. She was blushing again when she finally asked, "A minute ago you asked if Farley came when I jacked him off.

You mean 'masturbation,' didn't you." Patricia nodded, Janelee continued." Would he really cum?"

"Yep."

"Would it... would it cause me to have a baby if it got on me?"

Patricia burst out laughing." Not unless he came inside of you, in your - excuse the term - 'cunt'!"

Janelee abruptly made up her mind." Pat... how do I do it? I mean how do I masturbate Farley?"

"Why not ask him to show you? The mere thought of demonstrating for you ought to make him so hot that he'll cum the first stroke or two."

Janelee shook her head rapidly, blushing furiously, "Oh... no! I couldn't do that."

Patricia shrugged." It's very simple. Just take his penis in your hand... put your hand all around it. Hold it tight. Don't worry about hurting him; the god-damned thing is almost indestructible! Hold it tight. Then move your hand back and forth fairly rapidly for two-four-five or six minutes... as long as necessary. You'll know how long."

Janelee seemed surprised." You mean that's all? Just back and forth?" She moved her hand in a jerky sideways motion across her chest.

Patricia burst out laughing again and said quickly, "Oh, Sweet Jesus, no! Not that way. Up and down. Up and down."

"Will it make me cum, too?"

"Sure. It should, if Farley does it to you. Just remember though. Don't let him put his penis inside of you - even for a split second - unless he's wearing a rubber. Take off your bra and let him nibble like a lost hungry sheep in a pasture; drop your panties and let him wear his god-damned fingers all the way down to the wrist; take off all your clothes and lie belly to belly. But don't let him in... unless he's using a rubber."

Janelee spent the rest of the afternoon thinking over everything Patricia had told her.

That evening, when Farley had come to the women's dormitory to pick her up, Janelee met him downstairs. They were about to go out the door when Patricia and her date walked past. Patricia had stopped, smiled like a Cheshire cat, patted Farley's cheek, and said, "Have a good evening." She was laughing when she exited.

"What's she grinning about?" Farley had asked, perplexed.

Janelee's face was beet red as she clutched his arm and said rapidly, "I really don't know."

Janelee was wearing a yellow sleeveless shift with a scoop neckline that showed the cleavage separating the ripe full moons of her golden breasts. With all the self- assurance of a young goddess, she strode across the college quad to Farley's car.

He opened the door; she slid in and her dress came all the way to mid-thigh. She thought, I really do have a good tan this year. She could see the golden skin of her thighs and the soft, almost imperceptible, little blonde hairs above the knees. Instead of pulling down the dress, she lifted it an inch higher.

Farley came around the back of the car and opened his door. He got in. He fumbled the key into the lock, and she saw him staring at her legs." He's so bashful," she said to herself." He really doesn't know any more about this than I do, the poor boy."

They talked about an upcoming test in their European History class as they drove toward the drive-in theater where a movie they both wanted to see was being screened. Farley paid the admissions and they drove to a stall. The night was falling rapidly. Children ran and screamed in happy abandon through the drive-in's playground. People wandered about carrying popcorn boxes and soft drinks. Finally, the lights dimmed and the cartoon came on.

They were half-way through the first feature and it had grown completely dark outside when Janelee felt Farley tentatively put his arm on the back of the seat. A moment later, his arm dropped around her shoulders. She moved closer to him.

Her heart was beginning to beat rather rapidly; she freely admitted to herself that she was nervous. Farley kissed her. It was a rough kiss - not very skillful, she thought, or experienced. A moment later he French-kissed her. Janelee had always enjoyed French kissing, even in high school. There was something exciting about a boy's hard tongue moving around in her mouth, taking possession of it, as it rubbed the roof of her mouth and established its superiority. She opened her mouth even wider and fought his tongue with her own. Farley pulled her around so that she was cradled in his arms, her back toward the screen, her legs stretched out to the passenger's side of the seat. Now she felt his right hand moving surreptitiously on her left breast. She continued to kiss him. Emboldened, he began awkwardly massaging her breast and, when she made no effort to stop him, he attempted to put his hand down the front of her dress. She withdrew her mouth from his and sat up. In a soft voice, she asked, "Farley... what are you trying to do?"

The boy was breathing heavily. He took a deep breath for courage and his voice was guttural when he said, "I... want to feel your breasts."

She was silent for a moment, then she responded, "All right." In the half-darkness she saw the poor boy blink in surprise and disbelief. She saw his eyes open even wider when she put her arms behind her back and unfastened the snap holding her dress zipper in place. There was the whirring sound of the zipper slithering down, then she hunched her shoulders forward and, with her hands still behind her, unfastened the bra. The white round globes of flesh leaped for freedom with their nipples standing erect like very small brown penises. She dropped the bra on the seat of the car, then put her hands under her breasts and held them upright as though she were offering them as a gift. She had never done this before for anyone; she had always felt she would be embarrassed, but she wasn't. Actually, she was very calm - feeling her superiority growing over the boy. And that's how she considered him...." a boy," she said to herself.

On their last two dates, Farley had briefly massaged her one breast through a sweater and dress and bra. It had felt pleasurable. Tonight, however, when he put a hand on her bare breast, she felt an electric shock go through her like nothing she had ever experienced before. She couldn't believe it. It was beautiful. Fantastic.

Breathtaking! She involuntarily groaned low in her throat as his tongue fished around her mouth and his thumb and forefinger caught her nipple in a gentle squeeze. After a minute, Janelee's breath was coming almost as harshly as the boy's. He pulled his mouth away from hers, and she was frightened for a moment when he pushed her body away a bit. Then she felt his lips seeking her breast. The soft suction, the gentle nibbles on her breast, was something that made her go into orbit." My God...." she groaned." Oh, that's wonderful." Now he seemingly was trying to swallow one, and the suction of his mouth and the feeling of his tongue teasing the nipple, was almost more than she could stand.

Then... the thing she had been dreading and also waiting for! She felt his hand move uncertainly up between her fevered thighs and touch the already damp crotch band of her nylon panties. Instinctively, she clamped her legs together, trapping his hand. Like the three other occasions he had advanced this far, he made no effort to do more than just rub a little bit; seemingly he didn't know what to do or how to do it.

He shifted his body and suddenly she was aware of the hard pressure of something just below her left elbow where her arm lay in his lap. She could feel the angry little, almost imperceptible, seesaw movements of his pelvis." That will be," she said to herself, "his penis... or 'prick,' as Patricia calls it." She was thoughtful as she attempted to decide her next step. She abruptly realized, however, that something had happened down between her legs. Farley had gotten his middle finger under the elastic of her panty legs and was rubbing against the soft golden curling pubic hairs.

That was further than he had ever been permitted to go before. His finger briefly came into contact with her clitoris, and a powerful seismic shock surged through her belly. God, it felt wonderful. Gently, almost without her being aware of it, Farley had moved her left leg away from the right. She didn't fight him as he moved the leg off the seat onto the floor, leaving her legs spread - the soft golden fleece of her pussy open and unprotected.

A familiar fire was being kindled there. A fire that could easily get out of control unless she kept her mind clear and concentrate on something else. Farley's lips were trying to devour her breast; she could feel his teeth - it was almost painful, but so beautiful. That tender pain suddenly faded into nothingness as the fire in her loins spontaneously ignited and moved like a dangerous roaring hot crown fire across the virginal forest. She wondered if she were about to cum; she wanted to cum, if. that's what it took. She silently screamed, "Farley - Farley. Keep on. Harder. Harder!

Anything... put out the fire. Make me feel... make the feeling go away... make me... explode!" Farley's finger was sawing across her vaginal lips like the maddened bow of a demented violinist. She realized she was having difficulty in breathing. It didn't matter. It didn't matter!

Then, without warning, just as she felt the thunderheads building up - those delicious storm clouds within her cunt which would bring the cooling rains to douse the fire - Farley stopped!

His breathing was coming in short puppy-dog like pants. She suddenly became aware that the seesawing motions of his pelvis had been growing until they were buffeting the side of her body. She heard his spittle slide dryly down his throat as he attempted to swallow.

She could feel his entire body trembling; his hand was shaking almost uncontrollably when he took her right hand and placed it on the throbbing protuberance bulging within the confines of his trousers.

This is it, she thought. This is where I find out if Pat knew what she was talking about. Janelee's voice was low, almost inaudible, as she whispered, "Farley?"

"Yeh?"

"Show me what you want."

Now he was really breathing heavily. Obviously he didn't understand or couldn't believe her.

"Farley... tell me."

He swallowed again. Then he shifted her body slightly to the right, and she felt his left hand fumbling with his trousers. There was the whispering sound of his zipper, more fumbling, and she suddenly felt a warm hard rod beneath her back. He pulled her body toward him. His tongue now dug deep into her mouth, and as he did so, he placed her hand upon his penis. This, she thought, couldn't have been confined inside his trousers; it was too huge. It was too big. No man could keep a thing like this inside his pants without it being visible. Farley groaned.

Janelee remembered the directions that had been given by Patricia. She tightened her fingers around it. He groaned again, louder this time. She moved her hand and surprisingly felt the skin - hard and warm and soft all at once - move with her hand.

The hard ridges beneath the skin throbbed like the heart of some wild living thing.

"Oh... ahhh... that's... wonderful!" Farley moaned. She moved her hand back and forth even more rapidly. His penis seemed to be growing even larger. Farley had let go of her now, he no longer was making any attempt to kiss or fondle her. He simply lay against the front seat with his mouth hanging laxly open. Janelee's hand and arm - both of which were in an awkward position - were growing cramped, stopped her movement in order to get into a more comfortable position; Farley groaned in a voice she could hardly recognize, "Don't stop there! Keep going... keep going!"

She twisted around so that her right hip now rested in the center of the seat. She used her left hand now to stroke the throbbing rod. It was awkward at first, but within seconds she had regained the rhythm. She put her right hand against his furthermost leg. Her head was at belt level, only inches from the great pulsating hot stick with its purple head. Farley's abdomen began frantically moving up and down in rhythm with her hand.

Each upward thrust brought his penis closer and closer to her face. The excitement was building up in her, too. She didn't know why. She was breathing rapidly, and just not from her exertions. She enjoyed doing this - this communion of man and woman. The fire was now roaring out of control in the hidden canyons of her vagina. She wanted to feel him inside her; she wanted to be fucked. She wanted to be raped... anything, just so long as he would put the fires out. Now, even as she watched his penis, the head seemed to grow wider and wider, and it came closer and closer to her lips. The little hole that had been in the center had expanded until it was almost the size of a dime. Farley's hands suddenly left the steering wheel and took her head, pushing her face closer to it." Suck it, suck it, suck it!" he cried frantically. For just a split second, Janelee rejected the demand, but then she remembered that he had sucked on her breasts and it had been deliriously enjoyable. Obediently, she bent her head and opened her mouth. The hot throbbing rod of flesh was crammed into her throat. She thought she would choke. She continued to move her hand up and down the shaft as she sucked at the head.

Suddenly, Farley gave one convulsive upward movement which almost shoved the hardened instrument down to her tonsils, and her mouth was filled with a hot, pulsating thick cream that spurted like a never-ending fountain down her throat. In order to keep from gagging, she was forced to swallow the first mouthful. She felt Farley's hands pull her mouth away; her lips left the rod reluctantly. The penis continued to spurt out liquid. It hit her face and eyebrows and splattered her dress. It shot into her hair and flowed out of the corners of her mouth to drip off her chin down the front of her breasts where it hung like milky drops of perspiration.

Farley said, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Janelee. Oh, God, I didn't mean to do that." And he fell back into a slumped position, panting, against the left door. Slowly, even as she watched, the penis deflated until it was no larger than an oversized and very wrinkled sausage.

Janelee used her hands to wipe the cum from her chin and forehead, but still, the liquid stream from Farley had not put out the fires in her own vagina. They roared unabated through the virgin forests - burning desolately in the far reaches of her wilderness. There was no one here who could help her extinguish them. They would continue to burn. Farley had reached his climax in her mouth; she did not begrudge him that. It was good that one of them had experienced it. But she felt she would never achieve one. She wanted to cry; she wanted to claw at her body, to punish it, to relieve it.

All of these thoughts were raging through her mind as she silently used Farley's tee shirt to dry her face and breasts and hair.

There had been one other thought as well that first night. She did wish that Patricia had had enough foresight to warm her that a boy's cumming is a messy proposition.

His cum was all over her. It left a faint unfamiliar, but not displeasing, odor. She hoped no one else in the dormitory would notice it.

Finally, she had sat up straight in the car. Farley was hurriedly zipping up his pants.

He seemed embarrassed. Silently, her mind and body in a turmoil, she replaced her bra and rearranged her dress.

On the screen in front of them, the movie was just concluding. Doris Day had evaded seduction once again and was still the All-American virgin; she had actually gotten Rock Hudson, the all-American stud and millionaire, to marry her!

CHAPTER THREE

After that night, Janelee had refused to see Farley again for the balance of the semester. He telephoned, he tried to see her after classes, and he pestered all of the other girls in the dormitory to intercede on his behalf. He even left a note telling her he was in love with her and was "terribly sorry" and promised that "it" would never happen again. Janelee tore up the note. Farley didn't seem to realize that although she felt uncertain about what she had done with him, she didn't feel repulsed at what had happened. On the contrary, she had enjoyed it. No, her big uncertainty was simply that she knew it was not right that her body be subjected to such a buildup unless some relief was afforded it. Those horrible raging fires threatened to burn her alive.

Summer vacation finally came. Janelee applied for an was accepted as a life guard and counselor at a girl's camp. She enjoyed the warm hot days and the shrill happy laughter of the ten and eleven year old girls who came to her for advice and looked upon her as some sort of hero because she was the life guard. The summer sun tanned her to the point where she was almost coconut-color, except for the white bands left by her bra and bottom of the swimming suit.

In mid-September she returned to Windsor College. Farley, himself browned by the summer's work on his father's Texas ranch, was waiting for her. She was touched by the pathetic, almost puppy-dog-like, happiness he evinced at seeing her again.

Against her better judgment, she agreed to go out with him to dinner. The evening was almost a repetition of the night at the drive- in theater, and had ended up with Farley once again feeling both guilty and happy as he basked in the after-flow of her fellatio. Once again, she had drunk at the hot spurting fountain, but her thirst was not quenched.

She had tormented her body again by coming so close, and yet - even though this time she had clearly expressed her own need for him to continue his fondling of her body - the second he had started cumming in her mouth, he had stopped everything.

That was it as far as Janelee was concerned. She vowed never to date him alone again. This promise to herself was hard to keep. She threw herself into her language studies. In February, she made the Dean's list in language honors - Italian and French. Her Italian teacher suggested Janelee think about a possible career with the State Department upon graduation. Then, in mid-April, her telephone had rung one evening, and Janelee's life abruptly changed.

She recognized the voice on the telephone; it was that of Judge Morten, a friend and advisor of her Uncle Mat's, in Venton, Oklahoma." I have some rather bad news about your Uncle," he said.

With a suddenly aching throat, Janelee heard him say, "Mat is dying. I think you had better come home, if you can."

Janelee had her roommate, Patricia, drive her to the airport. It was raining heavily when Janelee ran up the steps of the Venton hospital. As soon as she saw the head nurse, Janelee knew it was too late. Three days later, it was still raining; and she had buried Mat alongside her parents. He had been like a second father - had been a father! - since her parents had been killed in an automobile accident ten years before.

Judge Morten asked her to come to his office the day following the funeral." You know, Janelee," he said, "your Uncle was a sainted man.

He sacrificed to put you through college. He had been undergoing radium treatments for three years; they were costly. He didn't want you to know about it; he didn't want to worry you. But he had to mortgage the house and business to the hilt in order to keep you in school and maintain his treatments." Judge Morten stared out the window, seemingly embarrassed by what he was going to have to say." Janelee, dear, there's less than $500 left in Mat's estate after we pay for his funeral. That's enough to keep you in college for the rest of this semester. Maybe someday, after you've completed college and are embarked on a career, you'll think kindly about your Uncle and buy him a tombstone."

Janelee was shocked, not by the report of finances, but by the fact that Uncle Mat was not going to be identified in that lonely graveyard where the wind blew mournfully across a thousand miles of prairie." You mean, a tombstone hasn't been ordered for him?"

Judge Morten shook his head." We felt the money would be better spent in keeping you in school for another two months."

Wide-eyed and almost angry, Janelee shook her head violently back and forth." No. No! I won't listen to that. I won't let you do that to Uncle Mat. I want him to have his grave marked, so people will know and remember him."

In an effort to placate her, the Judge put out his hand, "Janelee... the tombstone can always be bought."

"No... no... no!"

Judge Morten's shoulders slumped in defeat." All right. It's your decision to make."

He gazed down at the folder in front of him." How much money do you have?"

Janelee blinked. That hadn't occurred to her. She thought for a moment, mentally calculating.

"About fifty five dollars in the checking account and fifteen or so dollars in cash."

"That won't be enough to get along on."

"I'll take a job. Can I stay in the house until the bank takes it over?"

Judge Morten patted her hand paternally, "Of course! Stay as long as you like."

Janelee went home to the empty house. She wept, feeling more alone than she had ever felt before. Her last living relative had died. There was no one else but her now.

She sat out on the front porch and watched the occasional pickup or car move down the shaded streets. She began an agonizing self-appraisal." I have no real close friends to speak of," she said, softly to herself." Only Patricia, and we don't have too much in common... and there's Gina, but she's so far away in Hollywood."

The thought of Gina, however, had brought hope to Janelee's mind. Gina had continued to write after she went to work as an airline stewardess. The mail, pasted with exotic looking stamps from romantic sounding countries, had arrived regularly.

There was a close comradeship, a deep friendship between the two girls. Gina had always been like an older sister to her. Suddenly the need to talk to someone was more than she could bear. She got up from the porch, hurried inside, and dialed Gina's long distance number. She really didn't expect to be able to contact the stewardess on the first attempt, but she did.

Gina's voice had come like warm liquid honey over the miles of cold copper wire.

"Janelee! Is anything wrong?"

"Uncle Mat died," she said, feeling tears welling up in her eyes again.

"Oh, Janie... I'm so sorry. I know how fond you were of each other. Is there anything I can do?"

"That's why I'm calling, Gina. I need to talk to someone. I need advice."

"What is it, dear?"

"Well, there's no more money, and I've got to drop out of school and find work."

Without hesitation, Gina asked, "How much do you need?"

"No, you don't understand. I'm not asking for a loan. I haven't any ties keeping me here now, and I was wondering... well, maybe if... if I... ah...."

Gina completed it for her, "Wondered if you would like working for an airline?"

There was silence for a moment, then Gina said thoughtfully, "You might. It's a different life, though, than the one you're used to. Everything's different. I mean 'everything.' Time, circumstances, companionship, clothes, even morals are different. You have to understand that."

"I know it will be."

Gina again was silent, and Janelee could hear the ghost echoes on the telephone wires of other people talking across the continent. Finally Gina asked, "Do you think you might like to work for WIA?"

Eagerly, "Yes!"

Janelee heard her sigh, and then there was a note of warmth, "All right then, Little Sister. I know you can pass the mental and physical, and with that body of yours...."

She halted, with sudden alarm in her voice." Janelee! You haven't gotten fat, have you?"

Janelee giggled, "No. I guess I'm in pretty good shape still."

"Okay, dear. I'll help you on one condition. You go back to school."

Janelee started to protest. Gina interrupted, "No! That's the price for my help. You go back to school for the remainder of this semester. Really dig in with the languages. You'll need them if you want to get into my division. I'll get in touch with the Personnel Director and the Super at our stewardess school in Kansas City." Gina chortled, "Both of those gentlemen owe me a favor or two. We'll get you in the class starting the second week in June. You'll graduate in late September. As far as money's concerned, I'll wire you five hundred dollars tomorrow morning; that should pay your expenses through the final two months at Windsor. When you get into stewardess school, you'll be paid weekly."

Janelee again tried to interrupt, but Gina would not listen." Nonsense," the stewardess snapped." The five hundred is a loan. If you need more, let me know. Besides, darling, I get one hundred dollars from good old WIA each time I recommend someone who graduates from stewardess school. Actually, I'll be making twenty percent interest on my money."

And so it had been arranged. The excitement of her new life unfolding before her had caused the next two months to pass so rapidly that everything at Windsor College seemed to be a blur. Farley complained because now Janelee studied every minute of every day and night. Patricia complained because Janelee kept the lights burning until two and three o'clock in the morning. But the intense effort paid off, however. Janelee was jumped two levels in language proficiency; when the final examinations were completed, she was given one of the highest ranking grades in both languages that any second-year student had even received before.

Stewardess school was almost dream-like. It was harder work than she had ever performed before, but she bore up under it - seemingly growing stronger and more poised with each passing day. She could do nothing wrong. When her class graduated on September 14th, Janelee was awarded the "most popular stewardess" prize by her fellow students; she also had been scored unanimously by the instructors as being the most capable girl in her class. Because of her ranking and her language ability, Janelee was given her choice of assignments. She had chosen Los Angeles and the International Division. She got both of her wishes, an almost- unprecedented occurrence with WIA, where most of the girls worked for at least three or four years before receiving Los Angeles as a home base and the International Division as a wing.

"Janelee Morrison," she said to herself." Stewardess. International Division. World International Airlines."

It was hard to believe - almost incredible, she thought - that graduation ceremonies had been only yesterday afternoon. And now she was here. In Los Angeles. In Gina's wonderful mansion, with the cities of Los Angeles and Hollywood and Beverly Hills spread out at her feet like a sparkling diamond carpet waiting to be walked on.

She hugged her arms together, kicked off her shoes, and sank back into the deep soft confines of the couch. It was all too beautiful. All too wonderful. She looked down at the city; this was an eagle's view." Of course," she said, suddenly understanding and laughing deep in her throat, "That's what I am... and eagle. I fly."

She became alert as the sound of a car reached her. It was coming closer; it sounded as if it were outside the front door. A car door slammed. There was the sound of a woman's laughter, then the car went away. Janelee heard a key. The front door opened, and the automatic lights in the foyer came on.

"Gina," she cried happily.

Gina dropped her flight bag. The two women ran together and embraced. Janelee had tears of happiness in her eyes. Gina stepped back and said, "Here... let me look at you. She shook her head in admiration." Turn around," she ordered. Janelee delightedly did as she had been told. Her miniskirt swirled high up around her thighs.

Gina smiled and hugged her." Little Sister, I can tell that I have some real competition now. You lied to me about your figure. You said you thought you were in 'fair' shape. Baby... you are in perfect shape." And laughing, she impulsively kissed Janelee warmly on the lips.

Janelee was momentarily surprised at feeling Gina's soft lips upon her own. She kissed her back with equal ardour, however, thinking how wonderful it was like to be sisters. There was one thing that bothered her, though; she suddenly was aware, very aware, of Gina's long slender thighs against her own, and of Gina's abdomen against hers. The spark of the life left behind by Farley's fumbling between her legs that last night glowed in her loins; she knew the least little breath would bring it roaring to life again.

Gina stepped back. She blinked as if she had experienced something she had not expected." Well, now. Have you unpacked?"

Janelee shook her head." I've been too busy looking."

"The place is wild, isn't it? Have you eaten anything?"

Janelee shook her head again.

"Neither have I," Gina confessed." Come on. Let's fix a drink, go swimming, and then have dinner. Okay?"

"Oh, yes," Janelee said eagerly. Then she added, "Can I borrow a swimming suit from you. I had planned to buy one out here when I saw what the styles were."

"Swimming suit?" Gina exploded." Who in hell uses a swimming suit in Hollywood? No neighbors can see my pool, and if they could, then let them worry about it. I always skinny dip."

Janelee swallowed. She felt a trifle embarrassed about parading around naked as a jay bird, but then she mentally chided herself for her prudishness.

"Come on," Gina ordered." Let's have that drink. I can really use it after this flight... a real doggy flight. Not a single interesting male on it." She led Janelee to the alcove where a huge oil painting of a matador using his cape to fight off a charging bull hung above the bar. When Gina lifted the bar top, the lights came on automatically.

Revealed were five rows of expensive liquor in various shaped bottles. On the back bar there was an old-fashioned gold leaf painted cash register which showed a "no sale" sign.

Gina asked, "What'll it be?"

Janelee shrugged." The only drinks I've ever had before were beers and an occasional vodka collins or straight bourbon out of some boy's bottle."

Gina pursed her lips and grinned impishly." Little sister, you're in the big leagues now. We're going to have to start your advanced training." She was thoughtful, and then she pulled down a bottle of Bombay gin." We start with the favorite drink of most of my males. A martini. Watch, now. It's important - extremely important - that you know how to make a good martini. I get no complaints about mine, so learn to make yours by using my formula. Good gin is mandatory - most of my guests like Beefeaters, Tanqueray, or House of Lords. Six to one, or ten to one, depending upon whether they like it dry or not. First step, lots of ice in the pitcher." She removed a container of ice cubes from the small refrigerator." While that's chilling the pitcher, spear your olives on a toothpick... like so... and cut a piece of lemon peel about the size of a silver dollar... like this! Now, the gin - and the dry vermouth. Easy on the vermouth. Stir it rapidly and chill it well. Take the frosted glass from the cooler... use this strainer... pour... and then twist the lemon peel thusly...." Janelee saw the little droplets of lemon oil miraculously appear at the tip of the martini. Gina pushed the glass across the bar." Salud," she said. They touched glasses. Janelee found the martini had a rather strong taste in her mouth, but when she swallowed it, the coolness of the drink immediately changed to a pleasant warmth that engulfed her entire upper torso." Not bad," she said.

"What do you mean, 'not bad?' You'll search from Tokyo to Madrid and all over this bloody town for a better martini than that." Gina grinned to indicate she wasn't angry.

"Now... tell me all about Kansas City. I've already heard from someone that you finished number one all the way down the line."

Janelee eagerly began describing her schooling - the classes on everything from first aid and care of infants to the finer arts of handling a drunk, in-flight emergencies, and crash procedures.

Gina refilled their classes and came from behind the bar." What's say, we go for a swim?" We can talk out in the pool. You must feel pretty grimy after your first flight. I know I always do." Carrying their cocktail glasses, the two young women went through the front room and into Gina's bedroom. Gina immediately kicked off her shoes and lifted the neckline of her dress so she could get to its zipper. There was the sound of the zipper whispering and then she stepped out of her dress. She was wearing a black garter belt with little red roses embroidered above each garter. The bikini-like panties - as red as a Tangierian sunset - clung lovingly to the curves of her lower belly and buttocks. A half-bra did nothing to hide the upswelling of her breasts. Janelee watched her as she unfastened the bra; the ripe golden globes sprang to freedom. Her aureoles were large - the size and color of brown silver dollars; and in the center of each, nipples stood out like dark brown ivory temples on the slopes of a golden hill - temples that had been erected to the memory of some exotic god.

"Well... come on, slow-poke," Gina admonished. She removed her garter belt and then sat down on the side of the king-sized bed to roll down her stockings. She pulled them off rapidly, then stood, and in one motion, yanked off her panties to stand nude.

Janelee stood there, open-mouthed in admiration. Everything about Gina's figure was perfect. The way her breasts were so firm, so artistically balanced, the feminine sloping shoulders and tiny waist, the flare of the golden haunches and the little creases that ran down from her hips to the soft, full triangle of her loins... all of this was perfection. She was strangely clean-shaven of pubic hair, and the pouting mound of Venus was revealed like some delicate split, coral rose. Thighs, legs, ankles and feet were all... were all, "Just perfect," Janelee said aloud, feeling she could never compete with such beauty.

Gina grinned and curtsied." Thank you, M'am. While you're getting undressed, I'm going to run some warm water in the tub. Have you seen my orgy tub, haven't you?"

"Orgy tub? You mean the sunken pool?"

Gina giggled, "Yes. It's called orgy tub because three or four people can easily fit into it at the same time." She walked proudly across the room and disappeared into the bath area. Quickly, Janelee removed her skirt and blouse. She paused, but only for a second, before she removed her bra. Her breasts were larger than Gina's - fuller, with more of an uplift to them - but her aureoles were not much larger than a quarter.

The nipples, usually not too small unless she was aroused, were at least three- quarters of an inch long now.

Janelee blushed. She was embarrassed with them. Rapidly, she removed her garter belt and stockings, and then, with bravado, pulled down her panties and stepped out of them. She felt, rather than heard, Gina. The other stewardess was standing at the door of the bath, just staring at her. Gina's eyes were locked on Janelee's soft golden pubic nest, at her rounded little belly, and the generous sized breasts uplifted as though being proffered in love. One could draw a perfect equilateral triangle between those barely perceptible hip bones and navel. In spite of the deliciously fabulous body, her best feature was her buttocks - full, rounded, soft to the touch, warm, and gently sloping down to join her upper thighs and the Y of her softly shrouded pubic mound.

Gina said in a voice so hoarse that Janelee could hardly recognize it, "I had no idea that your body had ripened so wonderfully. Christ, it seems like only yesterday that you came complaining to me that your breasts weren't ever going to pop out. Now, like... ah... wow!"

She swallowed and blinked before attempting to grin, "I think we'd better have another drinkee before we go in." She pointed toward Janelee's half empty glass, "Drink up."

Janelee silently followed directions. Her mind was in a turmoil. Gina's expression was one she had never seen on a woman before. Farley had looked like that the first time he had seen her breasts uncovered - looked like that each time he saw her upper thighs unwrapped. And, instinctively, she knew that the same hungry look had been in her eyes when she had stared at Gina's body a few moments before. She was disturbed. Strange unbidden thoughts roamed the jungles of her mind like ferocious beasts who would devour you because you are, after all, out of your element. As she followed Gina into the front room, she found herself gazing at the other girl's smoothly swiveling buttocks. An unwanted question suddenly blossomed like a black flower in her mind, "I wonder what it would feel like to kiss her there... at that little place where her backbone ends?" Flustered, she pushed the thought away, and felt a minor terror again that perhaps she was a latent lesbian. She uttered a little silent prayer that her face, her wanting, would not betray her.

When they reached the bar, Gina held up the bar top end and motioned with her head for Janelee to go in behind the counter." It's your turn to try making a martini; go on, let's see how you do." Both women crowded naked behind the bar." Dump the ice, and start all over with fresh cubes," Gina ordered.

Janelee turned to the refrigerator. When she bent down, her tits swaying like twin pendulums, to open the door, she noticed that the light from the back bar was illuminating Gina's lower torso. It made her legs look even more golden; there were shadows in many places, but the way Gina was standing - feet slightly apart - the soft, fleshy folds of her vaginal lips were clearly highlighted and outlined. When Janelee straightened up, she found the muscles of her upper thighs were expectantly trembling. It was, she thought, almost the same as when Farley had played with her. Without thinking, she put the ice in the pitcher, speared the olives, cut a piece of lemon peel, and poured the gin and vermouth into the chilled pitcher.

She stirred.

Gina nodded appreciatively and said, "Good... good. You're doing fine."

Janelee looked around for the strainer; it was nowhere in sight. She searched atop the bar, behind the bar, and then turned to Gina, "Where's the strainer?"

"Oh, I must have put it back in the silverware drawer. Here, I'll look." She tried to slide past Janelee, but there wasn't quite enough room behind the bar. Janelee felt an electric shock as Gina's naked pubic mound scraped sensuously across her buttocks. Contact lasted less than a second, but the ripples from the encounter moved like tidal waves throughout her entire body.

"Here it is," Gina said, seemingly unaware of the havoc she had created.

Janelee had done everything perfectly the first try, but when she attempted to pour the martinis her hand was trembling so badly that she spilled a good portion of one over the outside of the glass.

Gina said flippantly, "A bit unsteady there, Little Sister, but not bad for the first time."

She patted Janelee reassuringly on the bare shoulder, and kept her hand there as she lifted her glass." Salud!"

Janelee almost drained her glass in one gulp. The room had grown warmer; her loins were throbbing. Her entire body was crying out - demanding something, some nameless, formless thing! She emptied the glass on the second gulp.

Gina called out in mock dismay, "Hey... watch it, friend. Those things are too powerful to slug-alug."

"I am going swimming," Janelee said, enunciating each word slowly. She quickly ran across the front room and out the sliding doorway into the warm night air. Her feet felt the coolness of the lawn, then the concrete decking - still warm from the day's sun - and then to the pool edge. Across the pool, squatting, awaited the statue of the pagan god - the shadow of its penis was two feet long. She dove cleanly and swam the length of the pool underwater to surface at the far end just in time to see Gina dive. A moment later, Gina surfaced alongside her.

"Good, eh?" Gina asked.

Janelee took a deep breath." It's wonderful." Then, they spoke in desultorily tones as they trod water under the stars. Once, Gina turned on her back to float, and Janelee watched - unable to take her eyes away from that breathtaking forbidden sight only five feet away from her - as Gina's upper thighs opened and closed with the movement of the water... opening and closing, opening and closing, to reveal the entire vaginal area - clitoris and all - opening and closing like some lonely, hungry fish mouth waiting to be fed... fed with all that it could devour. ?

Janelee's mind was awash in violent seas, threatening to broach her senses at any moment." My God," she cried to herself, "What's wrong with me? I'm feeling the same way I felt that last night when Farley was playing with me and no one else has ever touched me! I must be a lesbian!" Although her mind rejected the thought, it kept coming back. If the truth were known, she wanted hungrily to kiss Gina's vaginal lips; she wanted to devour Gina's breasts. She wanted to feel Gina's hands on her body... in her body's most secret places. Finally, in spite of the turmoil, her brain was able to transmit the message: "If you are a lesbian, why is it you never before felt this way about a woman? You're still aroused from last night with Farley. Think of it this way! Gina is a mirror to yourself. That opening and closing vagina is a reflection of your own."

A couple of minutes later, Gina got out of the pool; she was rubbing her neck and hunching her shoulders forward." I'm afraid I need another drink," she said." Can you handle another?"

Janelee was willing to accept any excuse to get rid of the sight of the other girl's body." Yes, please. That would be nice," she answered.

"Okay," Gina called out. I'll serve them in the bath. Why don't you go in and soak yourself in hot water now." Gina walked dripping across the lawn and disappeared through the sliding doors.

Janelee rapidly swam the length of the pool three times before she got her body under control again. She walked majestically up the steps at the side of the pool, and her legs, her breasts, her soft pubic mound and thighs all shone like golden alabaster in the light of a harvest moon just rising over the mountains to her left. She paused just a second to stand in front of the marble statue of the naked god. His marble eyes were locked forever on her abdomen. Once again she felt his power. It would be so easy to set astride those powerful stone legs, put her arms around his waist... and surrender with that huge godhead penis buried deep inside of her. The statue seemed to have been created just for that one purpose. It was ancient, all right, but the purpose of its being was timeless.

She heard the sound of ice cubes in the pitcher, and then she was running toward the bath area. It was hot and humid in here - steamy! - but it was sensually enjoyable because of the exotic odor of expensive bath oils. The love birds in the cages all cooed and cocked their heads toward her. She walked gingerly down the steps into the circular bath tub.

The water was hot, almost too hot, but Janelee had already gotten used to it when, a moment later, Gina came in bearing two martinis on a tray. She squatted at the edge of the tub, just above Janelee's head, and handed down a glass. Her breasts, like huge ripe golden grapes of the sun, were within reach of Janelee's head... all she had to do was reach out. Her vaginal lips were slightly open, and Janelee could see darker canyons within the canyons, with the now larger than ever clitoris standing like a guard over the soft sensuous slit. Janelee reached out her hand... and took the drink. She weakly closed her eyes, and said simply, "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Little Sister." A moment later, Gina stepped into the bath and sat down facing her across the pool. She stretched out almost full length and sighed rapturously." I hope to tell you, friend. That feels good! My back and shoulder muscles are really killing me after today's flight."

Janelee could feel the heat of the water gradually relaxing her own body. Gina yawned, took a sip from her martini, and lay back in the water; she didn't seem inclined to do any talking at the moment, so Janelee remained silent. She stared around the room, still not believing this place could exist. Love birds cooed and fluttered their wings through the curtain of steam. Her nostrils were filled with the heady odor of perfumed bath oils. She reached out and let her fingers caress the stack of towels; even they had a feeling of powerful sensuality about them. Then her glance fell upon the book she had seen earlier. Curious, she reached over and picked it up." Expresiones de Amor," she read the title in Spanish and then translated, "Expressions of love".

Gina cocked open one eye." A friend gave it to me on my last flight to Madrid."

"What is it, poetry?"

Gina yawned again." Yes... in a way. It shows all the beautiful and poetic ways of making love. Some of the world's finest artists are represented in there; there are reproductions of paintings by Rembrandt, Renoir, Toulouse-Lautrec, Gauguin, Michelangelo... artists from India and the Orient... together with a few classic photographs.

Curious, Janelee opened the volume at the page where the string of pearls was acting as a book marker. She gasped aloud. There, in colors so vital, so vivid, that it could have been painted only by a master, was a picture of a young girl lying atop a bed. Her head was deep in a huge feather down pillow. Her eyes were closed in rapture. Astride her, his pelvis almost hiding her ecstatic face, was a young man.

The girl's fingers were dug deep into the boy's buttocks; she was clutching them as if she were drinking from some precious water bottle on the desert where no drop could be wasted. Her ripe large lips pooched out forming a soft oval of warmth around the shaft of the boy's penis; the head of the instrument obviously was buried deep within her throat. Staring at it, the picture seemed to come alive... the boy and girl had movement, and Janelee even thought she could hear the girl moan.

Suddenly embarrassed, she realized the low pitched sound of desire had come from deep inside her chest. Blushing, she looked and saw Gina watching her with amusement.

Janelee swallowed with difficulty. She felt she had to say something. Inanely, she uttered, "Uh... pretty wild."

Gina looked quizzical." The painting? Or the subject matter?"

Janelee knew she was blushing again." Well... I guess both."

"That is an authenticated Rembrandt. Supposedly it was painted for Charles II of England, but it was never delivered to him because the Plague hit London about that time. The painting wound up in Portugal." Gina gazed at her speculatively over the top of a martini glass." Does the picture offend you?"

Janelee looked down at it again; it was beautiful. It was a work of art. She shook her head, "No... it doesn't offend me."

Gina was observing her closely; the next question was asked casually, as if it were of no importance." Would doing something like that with a man repel you?"

Janelee knew her face was beet red right up to the hairline. She hesitated, trying desperately to hide her confusion. She knew her guilt was written over her face. She wished she had never opened the blasted book. What would Gina think of her if she knew that Janelee had actually been a participant in something similar with Farley.

Gina apparently misinterpreted her expression for acute embarrassment." Sorry, Little Sister. Didn't mean to ask personal questions." She looked contrite.

"No, it's all right. I just blush easily, I guess." Janelee paused for a moment, regaining her composure." To respond to your question, Madam. No, I don't think it would repel me... not if I liked the man."

Gina smiled as if Janelee had just given a correct answer. She took another sip of her martini, put down the glass, and lay back again with her eyes closed." There's a Goya on the next page."

Janelee turned the page. There, atop a large canopied bed on a platform, a man and a woman were in what obviously was complete abandonment at the moment of a mutual climax. The female's neck tendons stood out like taut ropes, the man's back arched like a bow, the thick arrow shaft of his wildly squirting cock buried deep dead center into her vaginal opening. Her legs were clinched tightly across his buttocks, and her right hand had grasped his scrotum as though she were attempting to shove in testicles and all. Beneath her cunt, a silver river of seminal juices and her own cum flowed salaciously down onto the bed.

The picture was so terrifyingly alive that Janelee could almost hear the wild screams of exotic delight from both of them. Inside her own body now, she could feel a reaction. She wanted to be that woman; she wanted to be impaled on that hot implacable rod of submission.

Quickly, in an effort to still her feelings, she flipped to another page. This was a Toulouse-Lautrec masterpiece... two women. One lay with her head laxly against the back of a couch while the other buried her face between the supine woman's laxly opened legs. A red tongue was shoved into the vagina and, immediately below the tongue, two fingers were seen inserted into the anus. Janelee couldn't tear her eyes from this picture. She had a vision - quickly suppressed - of Gina doing that to her. Deep irresistible ripples of desire were moving from her suddenly trembling cunt to the hardening tips of her breasts. She looked down at her breasts; even as she gazed at them, the nipples became strongly erect. She thought again of Gina's tongue. And, deep within her womb, she felt an involuntary spasm... one glorious twitch, but no more! She wanted that twitch to continue, to consume her... but there was no other movement within her.

Quickly, she closed the book and laid it alongside the towels. She stood up.

Gina opened her eyes and stared once again at the soft golden triangle of pubic hair that was dripping water like an ever-ending supply of cum." Getting out?"

Janelee nodded. There were little tremors of weakness around her knees as she walked up the steps and picked out a towel. She began furiously rubbing her body, but avoided any contact with her breasts - knowing it would only make things worse.

Gina yawned again and sat upright in the tub. Her breasts came out of the water as though they were magic islands rising from the morning mists of a languorous sea.

She started to stretch, then winced." I must have been in a draft during part of the flight home today. My neck and shoulder muscles are really killing me. If I had realized this hot bath wasn't going to make them feel better, I would have stopped off at the masseuse before coming home."

Janelee had finished drying herself. She looked at Gina, full of concern, "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Gina seemed doubtful for a moment, then said, "Maybe a rubdown would help." She stood up in the tub, and the water flowed in eager rivers down her belly to disappear into the cleanly shaven canyon of her cuntal slit. Grabbing a towel and bottle of perfumed oil, she walked over to the wall alongside the lovebird cage and pushed a button. A bed-like massage-table came out of the wall. Gina spread her towel across it, and climbed aboard to lay face down. She turned toward the nude Janelee and asked, "Have you ever given a rub-down before?"

Janelee nodded." At the girl's camp. We used to have to work muscle knots and cramps out of the kids sometimes."

"Okay." Gina stretched and winced again as she swiveled her head around a couple of times." It's right about in here," she said, reaching back and pointing to the back of her neck and right shoulder." Use the oil."

Janelee cupped her hand and poured a little oil into it. The lubricant felt like... well, it felt... almost like... Farley's cum!

With the first touch of her hands on Gina's bare skin, Janelee found the dragon in her loins coming to life again. Worse, however, was the knowledge that Gina had begun to react also. The other girl's body suddenly had tensed. It was an electric moment between the two young women.

Gina turned, cocked her head sideways, and said, "That feels good. Use more oil, though, and don't be afraid of hurting me. Dig deep into the muscles."

Janelee poured more oil in her hands. She began vigorously massaging the shoulder muscles. She dug the palms of her hands into the latissimus dorsi, those deep muscles lying just beneath the shoulder blades, all the while kneading the muscles toward the spine. Her fingers worked momentarily on the deltoids and the back of the neck, quitting only when Gina protested.

Suddenly, Janelee became aware that Gina's body felt as if it were vibrating. She was actually purring! Like a big happy cat in front of a fireplace. Janelee, herself, had begun to react. She was breathing rapidly, and not just from the exertions. She didn't want to be this rough with the other girl's body; if the truth be known, she wanted to caress that body, to kiss it. Knowing that Gina was not observing her, Janelee began moving her abdomen up and down on the edge of the table as she worked. The edge of it slipped slightly in and out of her vaginal lips; she felt herself getting damp there. Finally she reached Gina's waist. She stopped.

Gina made a complaining noise and turned her head." Might as well oil the rest of me, that is, if you don't mind."

Janelee blinked. Was this an invitation? It would be a tragedy if she read the other girl wrong." Do you mean everything?" She jokingly patted the rounded globes of Gina's left buttock.

"Sure... that needs oiling, too."

Janelee poured oil at the tip of the spine; it immediately began running down the smooth white crevice of Gina's buttocks. Janelee quickly tried to stop it with her hand; her lubricated fingers slipped into the crevice, and she realized they had inadvertently touched Gina's tiny puckered anal ring.

The girl moaned low in her throat from the sudden, unexpected contact.

Janelee thought of the Lautrec painting with one woman's face buried in the cunt of the other's... and the two fingers in the anus and suddenly, without thinking, her hand pressed into the warm, inviting crevice; Gina groaned again and, seemingly, pushed back against the fingers.

Feeling shame at what she had been thinking of doing, Janelee quickly withdrew her fingers. She slowly began kneading the softness of her buttocks. Her heart had begun to pound in a most alarming manner; her breath was coming in short gasps.

Gina's thighs had separated and now she was openly pushing up against the pressure on her buttocks. With a sudden knowledge that frightened her, Janelee realized that the other girl was also trying to sooth her own pelvic fire.

Janelee stopped just long enough to pour more oil on her hands." Raise your rump a little," she ordered, "so I can do your legs." When Gina did as she was bidden, Janelee grasped the left leg with both hands and began sliding her hands up and down the full length of it - oiling it from knee to high up on the inner thigh. She watched the motion of her own hands, thinking it was the same as holding a gigantic cock and caressing it! The thought was exciting her beyond control. Higher and higher her hands rode along the soft inner thigh until she felt her one thumb make contact with the hot wet lips of Gina's naked, clean shaven vaginal opening.

"Oh... ahh... ah ...," Gina moaned, and clenched her thighs together to prevent any further penetration. Gina's legs throbbed, clamped and undamped, rapidly.

Then, abruptly, she released Janelee's fingers.

Both women were breathing heavily, as though they had run a long distance.

Janelee was only vaguely aware that she had liquid running down both sides of her own inner thighs. She was on fire as she had never been before. She had to be relieved; she didn't care what it took... even if it meant being called "a lesbian" or spreading her legs and impaling her desire wracked, own cunt on the statue of that lusting pagan god outside.

Gina's body moved. She turned first on her side, then over to lay on her back.

Through fevered eyes heavy with desire, she looked up at Janelee and breathed hotly, "Now... Little Sister... you can do the front." She placed her hands beneath her breasts - lifting them upward in offering.

With a loud moan of despair, Janelee fell forward and buried her mouth into the smooth, warm cleft between her open thighs - biting and sucking as though she had been without sustenance for weeks. Her tongue tried to detach itself, seemingly to delve deeper on its own and lick down against the cervix.

"Be gentle," Gina moaned, and as she said this, reached over and began caressing with her fingers Janelee's starved and desolate cunt. She had tweaked the clitoris only once or twice and had stroked the vaginal lips for mere seconds before Janelee lifted her moist, glistening face from between her legs and screamed, "Ah... oh... ah... God! Yes! Yes! Don't stop... don't... don't... ah... heeeee!"

And the fiery liquid of the vaginal cum flowed like sweet, scalding lava over Gina's hand. A split second later, Gina herself was there, and Janelee - still lost in the glory and the ecstasy of her first climax - was deaf to the other's wild banshee scream of fulfillment.

Janelee had no real sense of time passing. With the advent of her first orgasm, she had sank down weakly to the floor, her head against the brace of the massage table, and her right hand clutching Gina's leg for support. There was no strength in her body; it was as if all her muscles had turned to rubber.

Perhaps four minutes had elapsed when she heard Gina take a deep sigh and begin to stir. Abruptly, everything came back to her: The terrible thing she had done to Gina. The way she had done it! That forbidden pleasure - greater than any sensation ever experienced by her young body before - all this... it was so sinful. And now, the unwanted tears began coursing down her cheeks.

"Janelee?" Gina, a disturbed expression on her face, was looking down at the younger girl.

The only answer was a sob.

"Little- Sister?"

Now, Janelee turned and buried her face in her hands. She no longer attempted to hide the fact that she was crying. She sobbed as if her heart were breaking.

Quickly, Gina got off the massage table. She reached out, pulled Janelee to her feet, and then put a hand under the girl's chin and lifted it up." Come on... Sweetheart. Tell me."

"Oh... I'm so ashamed." Janelee twisted her face away, unable to look at the other girl.

"Are you?"

"Yes. How can you ever forgive me?" She began bawling like a child. Between sobs that wracked her entire body, she blurted out, "I'm just a lesbian. Oh, God! I don't want to be a lesbian...."

Gina's unexpected laugh cut into her like a knife.

"Oh... don't make fun of me. I can't stand it!"

Gina was immediately contrite, but the smile remained on her face." Little Sister," she said slowly and emphatically, "you are no more a lesbian than I am. And I'm sure as hell not one! I like my men too damned much."

The answer didn't satisfy Janelee. She was puzzled by the remark, but still didn't believe Gina. How could she, especially after what had happened. That was a lesbian act, only perverted women did that sort of thing together. She sobbed again and sniffed.

Gina apparently sensed what the younger girl was thinking." You and I had better have a little talk. Come on," she coaxed. Gina, took Janelee's hand and led her to the bed. The young girl stood there docilely, weeping silently, as the older one pulled back the covers to reveal blue satin sheets.

"Climb in," Gina ordered.

Janelee did as she was told. The wonderfully sensual feeling of the satin sheets against her naked stomach and thighs did nothing to alleviate her shame. She turned her head into the huge pillow and continued to weep.

Gina stared down at her for a moment. There was a look of compassion - and perhaps amusement - in her eyes. Then she turned out the lights and slid into bed.

Janelee felt the heat of her friend's body against her. She moved as far away as possible, avoiding any contact with it. After a moment she heard Gina say, "Little Sister. We're going to have to be very honest with each other. Right?"

"Yes...." Her voice was muffled with the pillow.

"Okay. Turn over here, and let me talk to you."

Janelee didn't move for a minute, then, slowly, she turned until she was lying on her back, staring up at the filigree of shadows on the ceiling.

"That's better," Gina crooned as though she were talking to a small frightened child.

"Sweetie, answer me now. Are you a virgin?"

In a low voice, "Yes."

"I thought so. And you haven't had any experience with heavy petting or anything; have you?"

There was no answer. Gina repeated the question.

Janelee sighed deeply." Farley fondled me... three or four times. But nothing ever happened to me - like tonight." And she added quickly, as the sobs returned, "That's why I'm a lesbian. With Farley I could only come close to... to...."

"Cumming."

"Yes. I came close, but I never could do it. He always stopped before it happened.

Yet, tonight, it happened right away... within seconds."

Gina replied with some amazement in her voice, "Yes, it did happen rather suddenly tonight. You were really wound up. I guess the massage, the body contact between us... aroused you the same as it did me. Christ, I was as hot myself as an engine cowling on a 707."

Janelee was silent, wondering if she should tell everything, no matter how embarrassing, to her friend. Why not, she thought desperately, Gina can't think any the worse of me." The massage was a part of it, but I've been feeling 'wound up' ever since last night when Farley... well, when Farley was fondling me and when... when...." She swallowed.

"Go on," Gina coaxed.

Janelee sighed and then blurted out, "... when Farley came in my mouth!"

"Oh?" Gina's voice was non-committal.

"I'm horrible. I'm so perverted."

"No, Little Sister. I don't think you're either of these things. I've done that with men a lot of times. It gives them pleasure and, to be honest, I enjoy doing it to them...

depending on the man, of course." She paused, and then added reflectively, "But then I enjoy everything about sex."

"It's wrong, though."

Janelee felt Gina shrug." Maybe some people would think so. Not me. And not a lot of other women, either. If all women were as honest as you and I are, about half of them would have to admit that they've done it - and enjoyed it! The other half would have to admit that they've wondered about it and might even try it, if their male asked them to, or if they knew what to do." Gina turned on her side to face Janelee." Listen, and remember this. Anything... and I do mean 'anything,' a man and a woman do together is okay... just so long as it doesn't force or injure either one of them. Got that?"

Now Janelee turned on her side, so that the two of them were lying face to face." But... you're talking about man and woman. What happened tonight between us is... is...."

"Is nothing! You were aroused. I was aroused. You came. I came. We afforded each other pleasure and relief. Did we do any harm? Did I hurt you? Did it offend you?"

The answer came quietly, "No."

"Well, then?"

Janelee was silent.

Gina began talking earnestly." Little Sister, I have a hunch - no, that's the wrong word! - I 'know' that you're a sensual person. I'll bet you're just as hot as a pistol, and you are going to go out of your ever-loving mind after you get used to a male fucking like a stud horse deep - deep inside of you. That puny little orgasm you had a few minutes ago is nothing compared to the real thing that happens between a man and a woman. It was merely a cap gun, compared to the atomic explosion of the real thing. You'll see. Baby, will you ever see!"

Janelee thought about it. She was only slightly mollified. There still were questions that nagged her. She put one of them to words." But, why did this happen tonight?"

Gina laughed." Well, darling, you were up tight. And me? I needed sexual release, either by a man or woman. I had an especially rough trip both ways across the Pole.

Going over, I got tied up in British Customs as a witness and kept there long enough for the rest of the crew to pair off. I slept alone in London. Then, coming back, when I ordinarily would have latched on to a man telephoned a boyfriend to share my lonely bed, I couldn't call anyone because you were here as a guest. Pardon my vulgarity, but if I don't get fucked every three or four days, I get kind of... kind of... well, you might say wild. And you, Little Sister? I have a very strong intuition that you're going to need it regularly and often... just like me."

"I don't know...." Janelee said with strained uncertainty.

"Don't know what?"

"About my being sensual. I never had any indication of being that. I mean, I know how some of the other girls masturbated in high school and at Windsor. I never did. Oh, I touched and rubbed myself there occasionally in the showers, but - honestly - I don't think I'm sensual."

"Darling... if I hadn't heard you say a few minutes ago that you had never reached a climax before, I'd really think you were leading me down the primrose path."

"I don't understand!"

"You don't think you're sensual?"

"No."

"Are you asking me to prove it?"

Abruptly, Janelee's heart began hammering like a runaway steam engine. She swallowed." I don't know... what you mean."

"Don't you?" Gina asked teasingly.

"No...."

"All right then, Little Sister, I'll prove it. It is now 'Show and Tell Time'."

Janelee's eyes were riveted on the other woman's face. There was a queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach, as well as a sudden tightening of her buttocks. Gina's eyes actually glowed in the dark; the orbs had grown to monstrous size, as her face blocked out the shadows on the ceiling. Janelee felt the heat of Gina's body next to her own; thigh was against thigh, smooth belly against belly, breasts crushed against breasts - with each of the nipples like a hot brown sword dueling its counterpart.

"Proof number one," Gina said, and slowly took Janelee's face in her hands. Janelee felt Gina's lips on her own. They were soft at first, and warm. The whole thing was done so gently that she really wasn't aware of the exact moment that Gina's tongue swam into her mouth. She was having difficulty breathing, part of this caused by the knowledge that what she was doing was forbidden. It was wrong, but this knowledge was shunted aside by the delicious feeling in her loins as her cunt began reverberating again like a kettle drum.

Without volition, Janelee's tongue went into action and softly licked and sucked at the invading one swirling around in her mouth. Gina's tongue withdrew and Janelee's eagerly followed it with hers into the other woman's warm mouth.

Gina rolled one leg up over Janelee's upper thighs and began rubbing her distended clitoris against Janelee's hip bone. It was electric; it brought smouldering coals to a white hot flame in the young girl's body... a flame that was fueled by the sudden awareness that Gina's hands were moving knowledgeably up and down her back and spine, coming to rest occasionally like warm fluttering doves upon the sensitive buttocks.

Janelee was just about to give way to all the beautiful sensations when the older girl abruptly drew back and separated their bodies. An overwhelming feeling of disappointment came over her; this was replaced by joy as Gina said, "Proof number two." Gina's voice betrayed her own growing excitement as she bent over and placed her wet hot lips on Janelee's left breast.

"Oh...." It was a moan of sheer delight, coming as soon as Janelee felt the tongue caressing the nipple and the saliva moistened mouth gently sucking on the breast itself. Now Gina's hands had changed from doves to hawks as they greedily sought their prey. One hand was locked on the right breast, the fingers worked expertly at the nipple - capturing it, teasing it, now squeezing it, now releasing it - working in rhythm with the sucking of the left breast. Gina's other hand had found the soft hair surrounded vaginal lips. Her long middle finger slid imperiously up and down the entire slit; it teasingly avoided all contact with the clitoris, even though Janelee was helplessly undulating her pelvis by this time. Gina's fingers remained on the surface, not seeking to penetrate the still virginal opening of the vagina. But, as the crack became more lubricated from Janelee's cuntal lubrications, Gina's finger slipped further and further back until it finally reached the tiny puckered anal ring. Here, it stopped for a moment, before it began an unrelenting pressure to push into this here-to-fore forbidden opening.

Janelee tried to raise her hips to get away from the uncomfortable pressure, but the finger was moistened and slippery enough so that the first joint penetrated with a slight pop into the hot twitching cavity." Ah... ahhhhh, that hurts."

In answer to this protest, Gina merely sank her teeth into the soft flesh of the tit seemingly trying to swallow the whole thing. It was painful, but a fine, ecstatic pain.

The finger imbedded in the tiny, squirming rectum now began to move gently back and forth in an effort to gain more depth, but it made no further headway. The anal ring had so tightly captured the joint that each movement caused the puckered ring to move with it. Janelee moaned low in her throat; the painful sensation had changed into something else... something alien, something darkly exciting. Now, she felt the deeper muscles of her naked buttocks flexing and unflexing in a desperate effort to pull the finger in further. She was trembling. She was building toward a climax. It wasn't possible, she thought, that she could feel this way twice in one night. Her body rapidly climbed toward the exalted peak. She wanted the finger skewered further up her now desperately working anal passage, she wanted something shoved deep in her cunt... something hard, long, vibrating! She was there... almost there...

Then... Gina withdrew and moved away.

"Oh, no!" It was a cry of dismay. Janelee started to sit upright and plea for release, but Gina's firm hand pushed her back deep down into the mattress.

Gina had slithered down until she was in a half-crouching position opposite Janelee's hips. Her voice was guttural when she simply said, "And, now, proof number three."

She had become all gentleness again. Her soft hot lips kissed Janelee's belly. Her tongue traced a pattern of eroticism across the abdomen. Once, the tongue paused in its journey to seek out the navel. It licked the hip bones. Janelee tried to twist her pelvis so that her cunt would make contact with the soft fiery sword of saliva covered flesh heading in its direction. Gina, however, was choosing another path in the relentless journey toward the quivering vaginal lips between her legs. Gina's hands were busy; they slowly separated Janelee's thighs, and then reached up and pulled down a pillow which was pushed under the younger girl's hips. Now Gina's hungry mouth moved down Janelee's legs, and the tidal waves of lustful pleasure moved with it. The outer part of Janelee's upper thigh was licked, kissed and caressed; the outer right calf was kissed. The tongue left a trail of fire down the entire outer part of the leg. When it reached the soles of her feet, it began working its way up the smooth inside passageway leading toward the far-off caverns of her waisting cunt.

Janelee lay back, her body as straight and immobile as a railroad tie. She abruptly became aware that her head was thrown back and her fingernails were imbedded painfully in her own forehead.

Gina's lips swept up... up... up... toward that juicy ultimate goal. Little whimpering sounds of ecstasy fought their way out of Janelee's lust-constricted throat. Gina's left hand tantalizingly slid along the alabaster inward thigh until it brushed the silken- haired softness of her cuntal region. The touch of Gina's hand on her vagina was a jolt. The hand was doing something! The thumb and forefinger were parting the warm, moist lips... and then...

Janelee screamed with helpless passion as she felt the tongue flicker like hot summer lighting in the storm clouds of her cunt." Ah... God. Go on... Don't stop!

Ah...." Gina's tongue needed no urging or directions; it had a life of its own as it licked the crack like a thirsty dog lapping up water. Then the tongue penetrated down through two hot well-lubricated layers of vaginal lips. It brought a low moan of delirious delight from Janelee. It began moving back and forth as though it were a short, throbbing, vibrant prick. There was more to come, though, for even as Gina drove her tongue up and down into the desperately clasping depths of her hot, jerking pussy, her fingers were gently massaging the clitoris. Then, tentatively, one finger of the other hand returned to the anus and sought entry. Surprisingly, it slid in all the way to the second joint before Janelee even knew it was in there.

Then Gina began moving the finger in a sideways motion in an effort to enlarge the opening. A moment later, her finger was all the way up the knuckled of the closed fist. The finger made wild circles, and then it was joined by a second finger seeking entrance.

"Aieee... hurt me. Hurt me!" It was an involuntary shout from Janelee, but only for a moment, because suddenly everything was collapsing about her. Everything was closing in, as though all the planets and all the suns in the universe were falling into the center of a circle. Madly they rushed together, and then came the awe inspiring galactic collision, explosion, and rushing out again into the void. Janelee was aware that she was screaming insane exaltations to her own body, as though she were a demented goddess presiding over the destruction of a solar system. Her hands had cruelly grasped Gina's head and was actually banging it up between her widespread thighs as if she were trying to shove in tongue, nose, face, head and all into that maelstrom of hot creamy foam spurting out of her cunt. Her legs and feet beat a tattoo on the satin sheets, and her pelvis undulated like a pile driver careening out of control. She was cumming! She came! She continued to cum... and cum... and cum! It would never end. And her voice screamed out the words over and over again like some broken record player, "I'm cumming... I'm cumming... I'm cumming!"

It continued that way until she lost consciousness and fell back lifelessly on the bed.

How long she lay senselessly there, she couldn't say, but at least half an hour had elapsed before a gradual awareness of being alone came to her. She put out her hand and said softly, "Gina?" There was no answer. Wearily, she turned over. Gina was- not in bed. It took all of Janelee's strength to swing her legs out of bed and stand upright. Even then, she thought she would fall into a heap on the floor. Her muscles simply refused to obey her. Her legs trembled from sexual exhaustion.

"Gina...." she called again, this time a bit louder. Only silence came to her.

She walked across the room and peered into the bath area. The muted lights revealed the room was empty. One lovebird cocked his head and cooed at her. She went into the front room; it, too, was dark and vacant. The reflected lights of the pool danced on the ceiling. For a moment it seemed- eerie, almost as if she were in a glass cage at the bottom of the sea. A sound reached her; it. seemed to be coming from the shadows at the far-end of the swimming pool. She went to the window. She gasped! There, in the half-light of the silver moon, Gina's golden body danced sensuously before the pagan god. She had cupped her hands under her breasts and held them up in offering, all the while madly flaunting herself nakedly before the erotic statue. In the dimness, the god's penis seemed to have enlarged until it looked at least twelve inches long. Janelee watched in horror as Gina, legs spread wide apart and pelvis thrust forward in the stance of a limbo dancer, moved snake-like toward the pagan cock.

As weary as she was, Janelee abruptly felt a hot damp excitement growing in her groin. Out there, all movement had stopped. Gina's cunt was directly above the jutting, solid marble prick. So slowly that movement was almost imperceptible, Gina's arms went out around the waist of the god... and she lowered herself slowly, with tiny forward jerks, onto the majestic scepter of hardened marble.

Janelee heard herself moan; she didn't know if it were from excitement or concern for Gina. For a moment she was tempted to rush outside.

No woman could handle that huge thing in her body; surely Gina would rupture something inside of her. But, before Janelee could decide what to do, the penetration was already complete. Gina had taken it all, the penis had gone in easily... familiarly. Now, Gina began riding the prick as though she were astride a horse.

They started out at a slow walk, then faster, then a canter, and finally, as her low moans of delight came cascading through the balmy night air, Gina began flailing with her hands as she went into a gallop that carried her rapidly across the far distances of lust leading to the mystic land of The Climax. When she reached her fevered destination, she collapsed forward, breathing heavily, onto the mammoth stone chest.

It was only then that Janelee became aware that, no matter where you stood, the god's eyes always seemed to be gazing directly at you. He was staring at her own nude body now, and his cruel sardonic expression was one of amused expectancy, as though he knew her turn would come.

Janelee wanted to go outside to help the other girl, but she hesitated, feeling as though it would be intrusion. She went instead back to the bed.

About ten minutes later, Gina walked softly into the room. Quietly, she slipped in between the sheets. Janelee was aware that Gina was attempting to determine if she were asleep. Finally, Gina whispered, "Janelee?"

"Yes."

"Ah... you're awake?"

"Ummm...."

"Have you been awake long?"

"Uh... huh."

There was a moment's hesitation before Gina asked, "Did you wonder what happened to me?"

"Yes... I got up to see if I could find you. I didn't mean to spy."

"You saw then?"

"Yes."

"Another pause." Shocked?"

"No." That was the truth, surprising as it seemed to her, it was the truth. She turned to face the other girl." No. It was... even... beautiful, in a way."

"Proof number four."

"What?"

"That's additional proof you're a sensual woman... as if you needed any more proof than you've had. That statue out there is almost 2500 years old his name is Alcides.

You saw the offering I gave him. He was sculpted for that purpose." She laughed low in her throat and corrected the statement." Well, that's close to the truth anyway. Actually he was made during the Golden Age of the Greeks when the males got their kicks from young boys and anal intercourse between men. Any male who offered himself to Alcides was supposed to have good luck. The statue wound up in Rome shortly before 200 B. C. There it was used by men and women during the orgies.

Petronius mentions this statue of Alcides in one of his stories. Later, after the fall of Rome, it somehow got to Perugia where - for over 1700 years - it was hidden in a grotto and used by the women of the region to insure fertility and, I suppose, in lieu of a good fuck. Secretively used, of course, because of the Church. One of the men in Perugia stole the statue and sold it to a sultan who put it in his harem for kicks.

The women of Perugia discovered the man who had stolen Alcides from them, tied him up hand and foot - stuffed a gag in his mouth - then hoisted him up by his testicles in the hidden grotto. He hung like that for four days until gangrene rotted his scrotum; he fell still alive to the ground, and four hundred women used ten pound boulders to beat him to death. It was just like grounding flour or maze. Bones, skin, brains and all were pulverized."

Janelee shivered." That's a horrible story." Her eyes narrowed as she thought of something." But... isn't he... I mean... isn't a statue that old terribly expensive? How could you ever afford it?"

Gina gazed at her." It was given to me. By a sheik whose father had stolen it from a sultan. It was a gift to me. It's been appraised at forty thousand dollars. I had been, shall we say, 'nice' to the sheik. And later, he asked as a favor if I would serve as an instructor in the art of love-making for his sixteen year old heir. That's when the sheik gave me the statues in the front yard...." and the heir gave me an XKE Jaguar."

Janelee sat upright. Her eyes were wide in shock." But... but, Gina! That's the same as prostitution."

The other girl smiled." I don't deny it. Look, darling, you're old enough now to understand a few things about the world. The fortunate people are endowed with certain talents. We... you, me... are endowed with a body that operates instinctively for pleasure." She held up a hand as Janelee tried to protest." Let me finish. A painter sees and receives pleasure from a landscape; so he uses his hands and his eyes to put that impression - that pleasure - on canvas. And then, he takes money for the canvas. Does that make him a whore? He's using his body. Right?"

She didn't wait for an answer." A surgeon uses his talent, his hands, his body!, and gets paid for it. Right? Ditto for a writer. Or a musician. And an actor, or an actress. They all get paid for using their talents and bodies to bring pleasure to others. Now... coming back to us... or to me, rather. Like everyone else I just mentioned, I mix business with pleasure. Call me a whore, if you want. That doesn't change anything. I enjoy fucking. I need to be fucked. Men - a great many men - want more than anything else to go to bed with a beautiful, desirable woman. It soothes their egos; it's beneficial to them. It's terribly therapeutic for a man who's pushing fifty to fuck a 24-year-old stewardess. Understand, I don't climb into bed with just anyone. I'm selective. I don't go for the real kinky stuff, although I do enjoy some of the more exotic variations in love-making. And before you say what you must be thinking, let me tell you something, Little Sister. This house is worth $115,000 and it's all mine."

She laughed as Janelee gasped." The artwork and the furniture are worth another $50,000. I have over $100,000 stashed away in a Geneva, Switzerland, bank. You know approximately how much take-home pay I get each month from good old WIA as a stewardess? About $425.00, clear. The taxes alone on this house come to... brace yourself... $830 a month! Taxes! And that doesn't include the utilities, or the pool cleaning service, or food, or anything else. Just the bloody taxes."

Janelee was shaking her head back and forth in stunned disbelief. Gina snorted, "It's true. But I don't mind it. My various 'good friends' helped me buy the place... and they pay the taxes, as well as everything else. They pay it because I please them. I give them pleasure. They give me pleasure. I'm a painter, only I use my body instead of a canvas. I'm a poet, only I use my lips and my vagina to write the poem instead of using a typewriter and paper. Think about it, Love."

Just then the phone at the bedside rang once - a long uninterrupted ring. Gina lazily reached out and picked it up." Yes?"

She was silent for a moment, and then said, "Okay. Thanks, I'll tell her." She put the phone back in its cradle, and turned back to Janelee." They sure didn't waste any time with your scheduling. You're booked on the four o'clock flight to London tomorrow afternoon. Be at the terminal by two. I'll loan you some of my clothes for London." She patted Janelee's shoulder." Better get some sleep. You'll need it."

Then, yawning, she bent forward and touched her lips to Janelee's forehead in what could only be construed this time as a maternal kiss." Good night, Little Sister. Sleep tight." She rolled over on her side.

Janelee lay there, staring up at the changing patterns on the ceiling. Her mind was in a turmoil caused by a whirlpool of indecision and new knowledge about herself and her body... and Gina. Only one thing was certain. In spite of her brain humming like a dynamo, her body was completely relaxed. Tonight, for the first time, it had come into its own, and now it basked in the reflected glow of satiation.

"Good night, Gina," she said quietly. There was no answer; the other girl was already asleep. Then Janelee raised up from the pillow and looked out into the moonlight.

She was grinning impishly when she whispered, "Good night, Al old boy," to the god Alcides who stood waiting expectantly - and who would continue to wait - until she too had succumbed to his evil charm.

She was asleep within seconds.

CHAPTER FOUR

Although her training in stewardess school had been comprehensive, nothing had prepared Janelee for the actual flight to London. The first surprise had been the wide diversity of passengers ranging from a troupe of dark-skinned Pakistani folk dancers to several famous international celebrities whom she immediately recognized. There was even a Supreme Court justice and two United States" senators on board. The second surprise was the time differences. The huge Boeing-707 WIA jet had gone airbourne from Los Angeles International at 4:05 p.m. The Captain announced a few minutes later that their estimated time of arrival in London would be 10 a.m. the following day. It simply had not occurred to her that they would be flying all afternoon, all night, and most of the next morning... even though the actual time aloft was to be only ten hours. Still, the schedule did have its advantages because once cocktails and dinner had been served and the movie had concluded, practically everyone turned out their overhead lights and attempted to sleep.

Sarah, the tall Scandinavian Chief Stewardess, was catching a few winks of sleep herself back in the pantry when the "God calling light" flashed on the hostess panel, indicating someone up in the pilot compartment wanted coffee or something. Sarah cocked one eye at it and told Janelee, "Go see what they want."

Janelee eagerly went forward; it was the first time she had gone into the command section of the plane. The door, by international air law, was locked. She tapped softly and, a second later, saw the friendly face of their gray-haired flight engineer peer at her. The lock was released and she went in. The engineer nodded toward the co- pilot. Janelee moved up forward past the banks of meters and switches and radio- radar equipment. She paused; it was dark outside, but the moon rode high on the port side, illuminating a billowy white layer of clouds some 20,000 feet below the plane. It was a beautiful, breath-taking sight; the entire trip was worth this view, she thought.

"Nice, eh?" the co-pilot asked softly, as he gazed at her in open admiration.

"Oh, yes." She saw he was handsome and probably would be quite tall if he stood.

His blonde hair was a bit unruly because of the earphones he was wearing. Beside him, the pilot snored gently.

"You're a new bird? I haven't seen you before."

"This is my first flight."

"Well, then. Welcome aboard. I'm Roger Larsen."

"Yes, I know." Her cheeks dimpled as she grinned.

"You haven't been indulging in idle gossip back there?"

"No, sir," she fibbed. Actually, she had listened earlier as Sara and Maggie, the red- headed Irish stewardess, discussed the co-pilot's recent assignation with a married Italian motion picture actress. It had occurred after a Los Angeles to Rome flight two weeks ago. According to a concierge at the Hilton, the co-pilot and sultry actress had remained in their hotel room for three full days without emerging once. Hearty meals and vintage champagne had been consumed in record quantities. Gossip had it that at the end of the third day, when the tryst had ended, it had been necessary to repair the sturdy king-sized bed because the headboard and legs had fallen off sometime during the wild, uninhibited 72-hour encounter.

Something about Janelee's face must have given her away, because Roger's eyes crinkled in laughter as he said, "Don't believe everything you hear."

"Was there something you wanted, sir?" Janelee persisted.

His eyes riveted themselves to her breasts, then slid impudently down the front of her uniform." Not bad. In fact, five stars, triple A, twenty-one guns."

His glance was the same as a caress. She knew her face was blushing, but the green lights from the cockpit instruments probably hid her embarrassment. She repeated her question, "Can I bring you anything, sir?"

"Well... I'd say you've brought just about anything I'd care to have. Yes... ma'am. Except a cup of coffee, that is."

"Right. Oh, we do have a few chocolate petit-fours left from the after dinner service, if you'd care for some."

"Great. I like my coffee black."

"Yes, sir."

"You may call me Roger."

"Yes, sir."

"And what shall I call you?"

"Miss Morrison," she said impertinently, and heard the flight engineer guffaw behind her. He was doubled up in laughter, and the co-pilot was laughing at his own "put down" as well.

"Touche," Roger said.

Janelee turned to the engineer." Can I bring you anything, sir?"

The man, who was almost sixty and looked as though he were the happily-married type, nodded." A cup of coffee, please, my child. No dessert; I'm on a diet. And you may call me Charlie. What shall I call you?"

"Janie... or Janelee."

"Ah, that's a nice girl," he said, and patted her hand paternally." I'm glad to see that you have a sense of values where males are concerned."

The pilot came abruptly wide awake and growled angrily, "What in hell is all this blathering going on. Good Christ, can't a man get a little rest around here without you idiots going on a talking jag?" He glowered at Janelee." Who in the hell are you?"

"A stewardess, sir,"

"Young lady, that is the stupidest answer to a question that I've heard in weeks. I know you are a stewardess. You are wearing a uniform. I really didn't think you were Fidel Castro dressed up in one of our stewardess's costumes getting ready to divert us to Havana. I will repeat my earlier question. Who in the hell are you?" The last was shouted.

"Miss Morrison, sir."

"Very well, Miss Morrison. Now get those bouncing boobies and wiggly little ass of yours out of here at quick time march, and bring me some coffee. Black!"

"Yes, sir!"

Janelee made a hasty exit from the cockpit area. She stopped at the first class stewardess compartment and was pouring coffee when green-eyed Maggie awoke from a nap she had been taking. Maggie glanced at her watch and yawned." Another three hours," she said; and then asked, "Who's the coffee for?"

"All of them up front. Captain Larsen, Charlie, and that... that... pilot!"

"Ah, yes. The pilot. Dear old reliable Captain 'Never On Sunday' McGuckin."

" 'Never On Sunday'?"

"You haven't heard the legend, eh? Captain McGuckin, a real hell-fire stud between flights, has a policy of never indulging in bedroom games and hanky-panky for 24 hours before a flight. So far as I know, he hasn't broken that rule in the 20 years he's been with WIA. He claims sex before a flight ruins his reaction time. Oh-la-dee-dah!"

She giggled, and then her mischievous green eyes widened in mock alarm as the "God calling light" flashed angrily half a dozen times." You'd better hurry with that order. His Royal Bloody Majesty is an impatient man."

Janelee hurried forward with the coffee and plate of petit-fours. Captain McGuckin was completely awake now, but still in a foul mood. There were no thanks proffered; all he said was, "It took you long enough."

Roger rolled his eyes in sympathy at her.

Janelee left the cockpit feeling unhappy and depressed at the thought she had failed the first time she had been called upon to do anything for the pilot's compartment.

Her depression was short-lived, however, because it was rapidly growing near the time the six stewardesses begin the breakfast service. Through the windows, Janelee could see the blackness of the night was quickly giving way to a new day.

The change occurred so rapidly that she actually saw the sun - like a shimmering white balloon - pop up on the eastern horizon.

There was no time for small-talk with the other stewardesses. Cabin passengers were beginning to yawn and stretch; they began trickling toward the various toilets to brush their teeth and relieve themselves. Very briefly, as she watched the passengers' activities, Janelee remembered the lecture in stewardess school on the logistics of a flight such as this. Her instructor had said, "On the polar run from Los Angeles to London, each plane must carry over 5000 pounds of water - just to flush the toilets. It's a wonder we ever get the flipping plane off the ground, ladies. Corks would be much lighter... and cheaper."

Breakfast went quickly and, aside from a small boy who utilized the occasion to vomit in the aisle, things went rather smoothly. Still, though, in spite of all the excitement of her first flight, Janelee was becoming weary to the bone. She couldn't recall when she had been as tired. The most welcome words she had ever heard came just at that moment, when the p.a. system was activated and old "Never On Sunday" started speaking like some kindly benevolent shepherd to his flock." Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. This is your pilot speaking. We'll be landing in about twenty five minutes. It's a nice summer day in old London town. The temperature there this morning is... ah... sixty-six degrees - expected to warm up a bit and maybe reach eighty before the day is out. You needn't unpack your raincoats; the weather is clear. We're starting our descent now, and we're all going to be a bit busy up in the pilot's section, so I'll say adieu now. On behalf of Captain Larsen, Flight Engineer McDougal, and myself, I'd like to say thank you for flying with us. God speed, and bon voyage."

"You cranky old snark," Janelee muttered under her breath.

The next hour was a kaleidoscope of action and color. They landed. The passengers debarked and Janelee smiled and said "good by" to all of those who passed through her exitway. The plane emptied, the girls were dismissed by the purser, and Janelee found herself blinking as she crossed the tarmac in the bright English sunlight.

Customs Inspection was perfunctory and limited to the one question, "Any. cigarettes or bottle goods?" It was all very thrilling to set foot for the first time in a strange country, but Janelee was not capable of enjoying it. Her eyes closed wearily the moment she got into the crew car, and she was sound asleep before it moved out of the terminal driveway. The next thing she knew, Maggie was roughly shaking her and saying, "Wake up, lass. Wake up! We're at the hotel."

CHAPTER FIVE

Someone was hammering on the wall, she thought. The pounding continued, and now someone was calling her name. Suddenly Janelee came wide awake and sat upright in the bed. For a moment she was in a state of confusion, not recognizing the intricate carved beamed ceiling above her. Then she remembered. London . and the hotel. The hammering turned out to be not on the wall, after all; it was coming from the door." Miss Morrison!"

She got out of bed and walked to the door Yes?"

"Cablegram, Miss Morrison."

"All right. Just a minute, please," she said sleepily. She yawned, stretched like a cat and went to her suitcase which she had been too sleepy to unpack earlier in the day.

Gina's black peignoir was on top. Slipping into it, she brushed her hand through her hair, and went to the door She unsnapped the lock, opened the door, and then gasped involuntarily when the tall blond figure of Roger Larsen - dressed in dark blue civies - was visible outside in the hallway." You?"

"Good afternoon... or perhaps I should say good evening,' Miss Morrison." His eyes shone with appreciation as he saw the expensive negligee clinging like a warm black film to her breasts and thighs." I say, you're positively smashing in that."

She blushed." But... but I thought it was a telegram."

"It is. A singing telegram which I offered to deliver,' he said brightly, and began to hum before breaking into song." Doe... doe doe ray... me." He cleared his throat.

"The telegram begins: 'Hellooo there, Miss Morrieson. Good news I am the bear- error of. First prize you've won... an e-ven-ning of fun-nnnn... with W.I.A.'s most handsome son. Dancing, prancing... wining, dining... and... uh... holdding hands... ho-ho-ho-hold-ding hands!" He completed his song, then bowed low from the waist." How about that, you lucky - lucky girl. First night in London and you win the coveted top prize in the drawing. Incredible."

Janelee was having difficulty suppressing a smile, he was a rogue, a charming rogue, "Simply incredible," she said with a straight face.

Roger clapped his hands and rubbed the palms together in a business-like gesture.

"Well, now that that's settled, how about offering me a drink."

"I don't have anything," she said, abashed.

He clutched his hand to his heart, and his eyes widened as though he had just heard some horrible blasphemy." No booze? No booze! Good heavens, wench. I thought all WIA stewards filched booze from the first class section. Oh, well. See that you take care of that little matter next time. I drink Cutty Sark on the rocks, incidentally. I'll just run up to my palatial suite upstairs and bring back a bottle so we can get the evening started properly. First though, kiss me farewell." He reached for her.

Janelee put her hand against his chest, pushing him back toward the door." Just a minute, Captain Larsen. You're already talking about 'next time.' Oh, wow! I haven't even agreed to accept this... this dubious first prize tonight."

Some of the fun went out of his face; he looked almost serious for a moment. Then he grinned." You're just playing hard to get. Aren't you?"

"Nope."

"Give me five hundred and thirty six reasons why you shouldn't go out with me."

Janelee put out her left hand, fingers outstretched, and began enumerating." All right. Number one...."

"That's enough," he interrupted." I'll hear no more of those wicked sinful libelous rumors about me. How could you ever believe that?...."

He stopped as Janelee's bedside telephone rang sharply. Her forehead clouded in thought; it couldn't be the WIA crew scheduler. By law, she couldn't work again for at least 24 hours. She had no friends in London; so, who could it be? "Excuse me," she asked Roger, and walked across the room to the phone. Behind her, she heard the co-pilot's low wolf whistle and playful growl. She kept her back toward him so he wouldn't see the smile.

"Hello," she said into the receiver.

"Miss Morrison?" A vaguely familiar gruff voice, which she couldn't quite identify, came over the line.

"Yes."

"McGuckin here." Janelee turned around, the astonishment plain on her face. Roger glanced at her curiously.

"Yes, sir."

"Thought if you weren't scheduled for anything, I'd show you London tonight. I'll pick you up at eightish." The tone was brisk; it wasn't a request, it was an order.

Janelee hesitated only a second. Her spontaneous diplomatic refusal surprised even her." That's so kind of you, Captain McGuckin. Really, I'm terribly grateful. But I just five minutes ago made a date with another friend - a male - and I can't break it now. I do wish you had called earlier."

"Blast! You can't ditch the bugger, eh?"

"I'm afraid not. May I have a rain check?"

"Rain check? Rain check? Oh, yes. Of course. Goodnight, Miss Morrison." The line clicked dead before she could answer him.

"Ah, the most popular stewardess and the most popular co-pilot together. We shall take London by storm. WIA will run full page advertisements of us in all the periodicals. We're so beautiful. Everyone will stare at us tonight."

"I didn't say I was going to go out with you."

He smiled and cupped her chin in his hand." But you are."

Janelee's delighted laughter bubbled over." Yes... I am. Give me twenty minutes to get ready. I'll have to shower and...."

"I'm very good at scrubbing backs."

"I have a brush for that purpose, thank you."

"Oh? Well, then, I'll just wait here for you."

"No. Trot along. Come back in... ah... twenty-five minutes."

"Suppose the shower doesn't work properly? I'm a very good plumber."

"Out!" She said, holding the door wide open.

Laughing, Roger departed. After she had closed the door behind him, leaned against the panel and smiled to herself. He was fun. A taste, and a bit of a corn-ball, but fun.

Too, he really was the most handsome man she had seen in a long time... the first real person of any importance who had shamelessly gone on the make for her.

Youngish, she thought, about 31 or 32. Six feet tall and built like a quarter-back - slim through the hips, wide through the shoulders. He was, she also decided, a very dangerous man. A girl could loose her head over him before she knew what had happened.

She quickly showered, brushed her hair, and dressed in an expensive "Tom Jones" black silk crepe mini-dress which Gina had packed for her. The dress had cost Gina in excess of $200. On Janelee, it looked as though it were worth considerably more. The only thing that bothered her was the wickedly low cut of the bodice which barely covered her nipples. Too, the length of the skirt was almost indecently short.

Roger did nothing to alleviate her doubts. When he arrived a few minutes later, he took one look at her and growled low in his throat." You look good enough to eat... and I may just very well do that before this night is over."

Janelee did not understand fully what he was saying, but his expression was all too understandable, -She felt herself blushing, and a slight twinge of admittedly obscene pleasure raced through her loins.

The next five hours were spent in a delirious swirl of absolutely fabulous food, liquor, and dancing. They went to ten different clubs. It was on the postage stamp-sized dance floor of a place called The Mouse that Janelee became aware she'd had too much to drink and, as a result, the dormant forest fires in her loins were once again springing into life. She tried to drown the heat in even more drink, but it was like throwing gasoline on a fire. She attempted to dance it away, but this merely added more fuel. Her violent movements on the dance floor became more licentious, and she was openly flaunting her body at every male in the place. She was dancing something called "The Tickle," played by a vicious looking six man Algerian flute and drum group, when she felt the need to wantonly rub her pelvis against Roger; she abruptly realized that she was doing this because split seconds before she had felt Roger's own hardered arousement when he held her close. She wanted him to want her - take her... violently. If not him, then any man... even the orchestra. She wondered what it would be like; they would be cruel to her. They wanted her; they wanted to fuck her, she could tell by the hot glitter in their eyes as she pushed out her proud breasts straining against the confines of the crepe. She wanted them to see the nipple and all, so when she swirled near them, she bent at the waist and the dress gaped open. She smiled through downcast eyes as she caught the involuntary little pelvic movements from one of the drummers, and she was openly laughing at the bulge in the side of his trousers. She danced for them... danced to them, and it soon became apparent to everyone that the musicians were playing to her alone.

The whites of their eyes burned like hot suns in the dark night of their faces. Wilder, wilder, wilder the music beat. Her body was acting independently - instinctively - as she drove herself down an erotic road of no return. Once, she stood doing almost a solo as her pelvis whipped back and forth - flaunting itself first at Roger and then at the orchestra. She'd fuck them all; she wanted them all. Her dress, swirling up high over her creamy white thighs, had long since revealed she was wearing only very small blue mini-bikini panties which was nothing more than a g-string. Half of the men in the night club were staring at her with undisguised desire, ignoring the females they were with. Many patrons thought it all must be part of a floor show. The knowledge she could have any male she wanted in the place drove her on to new heights of abandonment. The other dancers had long since cleared the floor for her and Roger.

Subtly the music had changed. It was tantalizing, insinuating itself... suggestive!

Janelee knew instinctively, as did every other female and every male in the place, what the music and the musicians were saying to her. Each beat of the drum was a penis being thrust inward into her mouth, into her fevered cunt; each flute note the soft eager cry of the vagina taking the prick in all its majesty. Yes, Janelee knew, and it was more than she could bear. Frantically she began pushing her pussy out toward Roger in time with the music. The flute wailed and the drum throbbed like a hot eager penis. The music made her arm rise, slowly; as it swung in a half-circle in front of her, one hand brushed against Roger's leg and her fingers felt the long hard hard rod beneath his trousers. The drum "boom-boomed," the flute screamed in pain, and her arm dropped away. A moment later, the music commanded she repeat the movement... this time, she squeezed the bulge. The musicians went berserk; perspiration was-running down their dark faces and they frenetically sought to bring the piece ,to a climax. But her hand stayed there, even though her shoulders and hips were jerking in time to the beat.

Suddenly, Roger broke the spell. He hissed at her, "Come on, pet. Let's get out of here before those Algerians carve me up in order to get at you." He grabbed her by the arm and led her, protesting all the way, across the floor. She had been so close... so close, she had almost cum while dancing. Applause broke out all over the club; it drowned out the music - which was now sorrowful, now frustrated." Christ," Roger exclaimed, "they think we're a dance act."

"Well, then, I'm not going," she said, drunkenly." I am having fun here. I don't want to go.

"There's another place you'll like better."

"Promise? Cross your eye and hope to heart," she slurred drunkenly.

"Yes... something like that. Come on," he coaxed.

She brightened." Okay, then. That's different." She turned and threw a kiss and did a bump and grind at the disappointed Algerian musicians. Roger had been right, they did look as though they might cheerfully cut his throat in order to fuck her. But, what the hell, she thought drunkenly, there's enough of ole Janelee here for everybody.

London's fog had closed in while they had been dancing. Janelee took deep gasping breaths of it before collapsing in giggles." You know, sumthing," she said, peering up at him, "I'm skunker than a drunk. I mean... I'm...."

Roger laughed." Yes, my little bird. I know you are." He grasped her arm and propelled her into the darkened back seat of a cab. A moment later, they were gliding down Upper Brook Street past the lighted American Embassy, en route to the hotel.

Roger's arm was in back of her. She was starting to sober up, and the thoughts were coming unbidden to her mind. She wondered what the difference would be between Farley's juvenile fumbling and Roger's obvious know-how. Less than a second later, she was to find out.

Roger drew her to him. There were no preliminaries. He savagely French-kissed her, and she responded eagerly. At the same moment, she felt his sure, competent hand raise the hem of the dress and move across her abdomen. His tongue was commander of the land and the sea; even as it established this domain in her mouth, his hand pressed between her thighs and brushed aside the scanty bikini-panties.

His fingers grasped her exposed crotch as though he were holding on to a bowling ball - with thumb massaging the clitoris, middle finger in the vagina, and little finger playing an arpeggio against the tiny, puckered aperture of her anus. She wanted to scream with delight; she wanted to cum immediately. The combination of alcohol and physical exertion from dancing had caused her body to be more receptive, more sensitive than it had ever been before. Without relinquishing his grip on her non- resisting vagina, Roger roughly grabbed her right hand and put it on his lap. His huge fevered cock was out of his pants; it was easily three inches longer than Farley's had seemed to be. My god, she thought in sudden dismay, a thing like this could split a woman in half. Her fingers encircled the penis; it was beating, throbbing, as if powerful machinery were working deep within the hidden confines of the prick.

Tentatively, she stroked it a couple of times. Then she moved her hand up to its head - that gigantic quivering knob - which was slightly moist from the already seeping semen. She toyed with the knob for a minute, using the tips of all five fingers to play with it as though she were testing a cigar for freshness. She felt an overwhelming urge to suck on it, to feel it crammed in her mouth... all the way. This was impossible because Roger's tongue held sway in her mouth. Her hand slid back to the trunk of the penis, and she began vigorously moving the outer skin up and down, up and down. Roger's head, meanwhile, had moved down to her breasts and he hungrily sucked her nipples - a second later, he cruelly bit, causing her to gasp in sudden, unexpected pain.

The cab driver had to tap loudly three times on the window before he could get their attention. He gazed in the other direction as they rearranged their clothes. As they stepped out of the vehicle, Roger tossed a bill of some unknown denomination to him, and received a surprised and grateful, "Thanks be. You're very generous and kind, gove'ner."

Roger had his arm supporting her as they walked across the hotel lobby." Thank God for that," she muttered to herself, knowing that she was wobbling now... not necessarily from booze, but from the reaction of her body to his hands and lips.

"Fourteen," Roger said to the elevator boy. They sped silently upward.

"Goodnight, Madam. Goodnight, Sir, the attendant said.

Janelee giggled and hiccupped." He thinks we're married."

They walked down the hall to her room. Roger didn't ask permission; he merely took her purse and withdrew the room key. He opened the door. She walked in. He followed. He bolted the door, threw her purse toward the chair, and then reached out for her. His tongue was an inexorable blade of hot steel. She stood helpless as she heard and felt the zipper being pulled down on the back of her dress. Stood there, equally helpless, as the dress was pulled over her shoulders and the bra removed.

The bikini-panties were snatched right off her and tossed in a rumpled heap over on the couch. It occurred to her that for the first time in her life she was completely naked with a man. Roger picked her up and carried her to the bed.

She lay there with her eyes closed for a moment, waiting. She waited. Where was he? What was keeping him? She turned over and saw Roger had kicked off his shoes, removed his shirt and tie, and was in the process of dropping his pants. A monstrous bulge, larger than a hidden banana, swelled his jockey shorts. Seconds later, the prick sprang out like an angry wild lion released from a cage, and Roger stood completely nude before her.

Janelee was afire, but she was scared as well. The liquor was no longer affecting her. She lay there, eyes wide and frightened, like some helpless little bird confronted by a pursuing snake. The snake was coming closer, closer... closer, in a familiar charade. She ovalled her lips and opened her mouth to receive it.

Abruptly, with the first taste of his hot throbbing cock, the fright left her. She wanted it all.

Roger seemed to be making some unusually awkward movements. He kneeled above her, with his knees on her pillow, facing the opposite direction. As she sucked eagerly on his prick, he slowly lowered his buttocks, driving the rod further and further into her throat. She thought she was going to choke. Little gagging noises came from her cock filled mouth. She had started to push him away when suddenly she realized what he was about to do. He was going to do the same thing to her that Gina had done - that glorious beautiful thing Gina had done! With the first gentle little caress of his hot lips there, she went almost insane. He parted the soft fleece of her pubic hair with his tongue and she moaned.

"Oooooh, god."

The ripples of joy spread out. He worked her with the same expertise as he had with jet planes. His lips became a human vacuum cleaner at her vagina. For a moment it felt as though he were attempting to suck every organ right out of her body. Then, his tongue was again forcing apart the fleshy hair-lined lips of the moist, widespread furrow. Now his tongue drove deep down into it, and Janelee gasped and closed her soft warm thighs convulsively around either side of his moving head.

Next, the clitoris was teased excruciatingly by the wet, searching tongue and, once in a moment of passion, he cruelly nipped the sensitive organ.

Janelee attempted to give him pleasure with her own tongue, but his cock was much too large. It was a pile driver pistoning in and out of her mouth. She was making gasping, gagging noises. She was choking. It was impossible to take it. She clawed at his buttocks in an effort to make him move out a bit, but the sharp raking pain of her fingernails slashing across his globes only drove him on until he was so deep into her throat that his pubic hairs were pressing up against her nostrils and wide stretched lips. It didn't matter! It didn't matter, for things were happening in her cunt.

The flicking tip of his tongue was circling the quivering erected clitoris; his mouth nibbled, pulling the warm soft folds of her vaginal lips against his bared teeth and into the hot sucking cavern of his mouth.

Her body was lost. Nothing else existed but the uncontrolled fire raging in her cunt and the hardened rod of flesh sunk deep in her throat. Her back was an arched bridge as it bent upward toward Roger's eager lips. And then, incredibly... she was there!

"Oh... ohhh! Aggghhh! I'm cumming!" she mumbled inarticulately because of the cock in her mouth. She threw her legs wider apart in the air as the convulsions began in her vagina and spread salaciously out into the abdominal area. The contracting muscles of her innermost sex spat out more lubricant and it rushed like a hot sticky tide to flow into the still sucking estuaries of his mouth. He continued to lick; she continued to cum. And through it all, she felt a far-off sense of disappointment because his hot throbbing rod had been pulled from her mouth. Even as she lay there almost senseless from the overwhelming ecstasy of her climax, she tried to return it to her mouth - seeking it like a blind unweaned calf looking for a milk teat.

But the prick was gone. Roger had moved away from her. For a moment, she innocently thought the sex act had been concluded between them. Then, she felt Roger decisively pulling her legs apart and lifting her knees so that the bottom of her feet were pressed flat against the sheet. She opened her eyes. Roger's face was next to hers; he kissed her savagely, and she tasted the elixir of her own cunt and cum surrounding his mouth.

Gradually, he lowered himself onto her body. And now, she could feel the hardness of his awe- some male instrument down there where, only a moment before, the sweet softness of his mouth had been. She was about to be fucked - really fucked.

By a man! The knowledge did not dismay her, but she could feel herself tensing, preparing for the inevitable pain that was to come. The smooth, rubbery head of Roger's penis rubbed teasingly against her clitoris but she was still too tense to feel any joy. Now it began gentle little up and down movements along the smooth wet slit of her vaginal opening - lubricating itself on her slippery cum. Now, a tentative probe... the knob of the prick slightly stretched the cunt-al opening and had wormed its way just inside of her! She was surprised. It was supposed to hurt the first time a man did it to you, she thought. But... but... this doesn't hurt at all. I feel like I'm being stretched down there, but in spite of that, it feels... wonderful.

Roger contented himself with gently moving the head in and out of the moist clinging furrow and abruptly, Janelee was excited again, as the last glow from her earlier climax evaporated in the heat of this new day. She could feel his hot hard flesh pacing like a restless caged tiger back and forth across the full length of her quivering open slit. It was maddening to her! It was beautiful. She had to have more... have it all. Her lips twisted. She wanted it all inside of her. Everything. Now! Right now!

"Fuck me. Fuck me hard," she cried in her sudden desperation to be impaled on the giant tensing cock. Roger did not bother answering her. He continued the maddening tease of a little in, and a little out. Not hurrying, not worrying.

"Give it to me... shove it in all the way... please." But Roger merely kissed her harder. A moment later, though, he pushed inward a bit more... until almost two inches of his hardened cock was lodged within. Only now, did Janelee begin to feel some discomfort. It felt wonderful, but... the walls of her cunt seemed to be stretching; he had been too big for her after all. She was thinking of asking him to stop when, suddenly, he quit kissing her and pulled back with a puzzled expression on his face. His huge penis was sunk two inches in her and he withdrew it until only the large throbbing head was buried in the soft pink blossom of her outer vaginal lips.

Ah, that was better, she thought. She moved in cooperation with him. As he came down, she came up. Again he stopped when only two inches were in her. Now the excitement was coming back. She had gotten used to it; her cunt had accommodated him after all. She moaned deep in her throat. She wanted it all again; she wanted everything. Convulsively she splayed her legs wide and, using both hands, grabbed the cheeks of his ass and propelled him inward with a violent thrust.

The huge seven inch prick drove in hard like a battering ram until the huge sperm- filled balls slapped hard down against the tight, sensitive lips of her upturned rectum.

"Aieeee...." she screamed. The searing white flame of pain flashed through her.

She had been torn apart by a thunderclap of agony. She was dying. Nothing in her entire life had been this painful before. Nothing could ever be again. Nothing had prepared her for this. She screamed again, and an apprehensive Roger smothered her screams with his mouth. She attempted to throw him off; she kicked, she squirmed, she threw her body from side to side. She clawed his back bloody with her fingernails. She tried every way to pull her tortured, impaled cunt away from that merciless hardened shaft. But each movement only caused her more excruciating agony. Finally, she lay still, not moving... her muscles as tense as steel cables, her body quivering with pain.

Except for attempting to quieten her screams, Roger had made absolutely no movement since she had forced the penetration. He was buried up to the hilt in her and he left it there. Tears were streaming down Janelee's face. After a moment, Roger took his mouth away from hers.

There was a look of stunned incredulity on his face when he accused her, "You were a virgin. Good God, why didn't you tell me? I would have been more gentle if I had known that. I knew I was having trouble getting into you, but I thought maybe you were wearing something in there. A virgin...." He still looked as if he couldn't believe it, in spite of the all too obvious evidence.

She sobbed in pain and shame, "I... thought... you'd laugh at me."

Now, for the first time, he became tender with her. His lips were soft as he kissed away her tears." You foolish little bird you. Look, I'm sorry I hurt you."

"It's all right." Strangely enough, just in the last few seconds or so, it was all right.

Everyone had told her that the first time was painful, the second time less painful, and the third time might be okay. He was still inside of her; she was all too aware of that! Earlier, when she said she wanted it all... all of it inside her, she had no way of knowing exactly what that meant. Now, she knew. He was deep; he couldn't be any deeper if he had another four inches. There were seven and a half hard, hot inches of him - inside there, inside her, throbbing away like a second heart. The pain was still there, not as bad as before, and her cunt seemed crammed and stretched beyond capacity. And yet? She felt one sympathetic eager little muscle twitch in her pussy. There was an answering throb from Roger's penis. That muscle jerked again and her cervix dipped against the invader as if making an obeisance to a conquering king. Now, instinct told her that she was one of those women whose complicated machinery of the cunt and its movements is totally automated and would run well with or without supervision. The center of her being was down there; all her sensations came from there. She could even feel the stiff pubic hairs on his scrotum lewdly tickling her tiny, exposed anus.

Janelee began experimenting with movement, mostly muscle movement in the cheeks of her buttocks and along her inner thighs. She tentatively dipped her pelvis and the rod moved an inch outward. That hurt a bit. Roger, though, was obviously willing to let her take the initiative... at least for now. She timidly pushed up with her pelvis and his cock came back again. Painful, but not terribly so. Roger withdrew about an inch and a half very slowly. Feeling it slip from her, she forgot herself for a moment and eagerly pushed up." Oh ...," the groan came involuntarily from her. It hurt. He pulled back again. This time she pushed up cautiously; it didn't hurt. The little movements continued for a minute or two, each one becoming less painful than the one preceding it. Now, the cum from her earlier orgasm mixed with the blood of her broken hymen to form a smooth, warm lubricant, and she found she could take a thrust of two inches. Slowly... and gently. Thrust. Withdrawal. Thrust... withdrawal.

Her body was coming back to life. She could feel the far-off summer heat lightning in her breasts and abdomen. The metronome of Roger's penis was moving in and out in time to music only their bodies could hear. The pain was going away. Most of the pain was gone! There was an electric tingle now deep inside her womb; it arced its way across nerves and flesh until the centers of her reason and sanity shorted out in a shower of delicious sparks. She wildly began rotating her hips from side to side around that godlike instrument of pleasure. The vagina danced with a life of its own - paying homage to the giant cudgel ravishing it. Her deep inner muscles closed around the cock, caressing it and massaging it, not wanting to let it leave for even a moment. She was being fucked! She was being fucked - and she loved it! By some wild beautiful theory of osmosis, she was devouring his prick. Her body was attempting to suck him, his entire body, inside of her.

Now with the tempo increased, Roger's prick was withdrawing almost its entire length before slamming down through her moist, widely, flowered cunt. She knew by the way it felt exactly what was happening down there, without ever having seen it done before. She could see it in her mind. The thin soft pink ridges of her vagina clinging lovingly - puckeringly - to the penis as it withdrew and she screwed her ass down into the mattress. Then the thrust - that fiery reentry from cold lonely outer space - pushing the soft fleshy folds back into her. The glistening cock, like a never- ending oil drill, disappearing into the warm dark depths of her welcoming cuntal passage.

Roger abruptly took command of the entire situation. She was happy to let him do so. Pain was forgotten now; no pain could ever make headway against the velvet explosion building up inside her. His movements expertly herded her toward the point she had been seeking intuitively all her life. She was close, but still not close enough. She egged Roger on to deeper, more rapid thrusts. She grabbed his buttocks and pulled him viciously into her. She felt herself approaching it now. It was unbelievable. Her body was being taken over by some outside force. Her thrusts became more urgent; she was aware that her mouth was pressing so hard against her lower teeth that it had begun to bleed. Her aureoles darkened, her nipples became largely distended.

The first tremblings of a powerful earthquake began to quiver in her womb. She buffeted her loins up against Roger's hardened cock; she was a golden fighting fish attempting to dislodge the hook deep within her. It was now! It was now!

"Now," she cried, and her back arched up almost eighteen inches off the squeaking protesting bed as her knees - with the strength of a powerful vise - clamped against his buttocks and attempted to shove them into her. She found her hands grabbing for Roger's scrotum and violently rubbing them against her anal ring as though she were trying to fill that cavity as well.

"Now... ah... ah... I'm cumming... Aaaahh... Aieeeee!" She threw herself back on the bed. Her body twitched uncontrollably. Her feet and legs danced in time to some unheard wild abandoned music. And she made savage sucking noises as her tongue dropped down the back of her throat. Her body continued to buck like an untamed bronco. Through it all, an exaltation that was greater than a religious fervor roared through all her nerves and muscles and veins. And she thought, "Nothing... nothing... can ever equal this again." But she was wrong, for a moment later - even though she was still cumming - she felt Roger's penis abruptly grow larger and larger, swelling like some hot sun entering the supernova stage. It began to throb.

Then it exploded!

She felt the first scalding spurt as his ejaculation poured into her. Her cunt instinctively contracted and squeezed at his spurting cock, sucking at it to pull all of it into her. It was a life-giving white hot lava that completely filled her wildly quivering belly and, when the volcano continued to erupt, the molten flow spilled out of her pink quivering vagina and cascaded down the smooth white crevice across the white mounds of her still twitching buttocks.

Roger was still inside of her. She would not let him out, even if he indicated he wanted to withdraw. She didn't want him ever to take it out again. Never.

The last vestige of the wild storm was rapidly going away - leaving behind the streams and gulleys awash, the air fresh, and the sunset glow beautiful.

She felt Roger take a deep breath. He looked down at her and there was admiration and wonderment on his face. He opened his mouth to say something, but apparently thought better of it.

Janelee looked at him. She felt an overwhelming gratitude for him; he had taken her to a place she had never thought existed... a land where hardness and softness embraced each other. He had given her... pleasure, and now she knew the true meaning of the word. She put her trembling hand up and fondly stroked the fine stubble of his beard." Thank you," she said huskily.

"I'm the one who should be saying thanks." He shook his head in praise, "My god, you're all woman."

"What did you say?"

"I said you're all woman."

She blinked and her eyes misted over.

"Did I say something wrong?"

"No... you said the right thing." And she knew he was correct. She was a woman...

all woman, not a lesbian. Gina had been correct, too. Janelee was a woman who was going to need it regularly and often.

Everyone else, though, had been wrong. The "second time" didn't really hurt her at all; it was just as great as the third, although maybe not as good as the fifth and sixth... or the seventh, which came shortly before she left to return to Los Angeles twenty- four hours later.

CHAPTER SIX

Janelee worked the return flight with strangers. Sarah, Maggie, and the other stewardesses had flown on to Athens with Roger, Charlie, and McGuckin. Now, returning to Los Angeles, there was none of the awkwardness she had felt coming over; she was much more sure of herself - both as a stewardess and as a woman.

One flight and-one night had done that for her.

This westward trip made greater demands on the stewardesses. It had been nine o'clock in the morning when they left London; they were due to land in Los Angeles shortly after noon, Pacific Coast Time. As a result of the all-daylight flight, Janelee was forced to serve more drinks, was asked more questions, and walked almost twice as far in answering passenger demands. Head winds also made the trip last almost eleven hours, instead of the ten required for the eastward journey.

Still, though, she was not as weary as she had been when she arrived in London.

She actually felt relatively fresh when they got rid of their passengers in Los Angeles.

So much so, that she decided to go shopping along Wilshire Boulevard in Beverly Hills. She finally wandered into a little boutique that seemed to fit her personality.

She liked everything she saw, especially a flowered silk shirt-waist dress that clung lovingly to every curve." I'll take it," she said, without a moment's hesitation. Next, she bought half a dozen panties and two new bras. Then, and only then, did she ask the price of the merchandise.

"That will be a total of... ah... one sixty seven, ninety five," the sales girl said after tallying the figures.

Janelee suddenly felt weak. It was so expensive!

Why, she thought in dismay, I've never spent over $35 for a dress before. She still had nine $20 traveler's checks, but they would have to last until the end of the month - some eighteen days away. She couldn't ask Gina for a loan. And yet, she didn't want to look like a fool or a cheapskate in front of the sales girl. Janelee made her decision. She would ask Gina, after all.

"Wrap 'em up," she said, digging into her purse for the traveler's checks.

It was almost five when Janelee stepped out of the taxi at Gina's house. When she paid off the cab driver, there was only a one dollar bill and some odd change left in her purse.

She opened the door to the house, using a key Gina had given her earlier. The muted music came on. The house was empty. Gina had said she would leave a note if she were away on a flight, and there had been no note, so Gina apparently was out shopping somewhere.

The oppressive afternoon heat was beginning to abate. The sun dancing on the waters of the pool caught Janelee's attention, and she suddenly realized she felt pretty grimy. The pool looked inviting. It would be fun, she thought, to swim by myself. Quickly, she went into the bedroom, stripped, and then went into the bathroom and ran water in the circular tub. While it was filling, she went outside - running rapidly through late sunlight and shadows - and dove into the pool. The water was refreshingly cool against her nude body. After a few minutes of violent exercise, she got out feeling relaxed, cool and happy, and headed toward the Roman tub. As she walked past Alcides, she paused, grinned up at him, and put her arm around the god's penis." Hi, Al," she said, tweaking it playfully. She continued to hold it, feeling the stone's heat from the sunlight. The prick was so life-like! It was, she thought, only slightly larger than Roger's, and a bit bigger in circumference.

Momentarily, like the far-off flicker of summer heat lightning, she felt the mystic power of the statue calling to her. When she took her hand away, the penis glistened wetly. For one puzzling second, she thought it was cum. Then she laughed, remembering she had just gotten out of the pool and her hand had been wet.

A moment later, Janelee was easing her body into the circular bath. It was gloriously luxurious; now she knew exactly how Gina had felt three days ago after her flight from London. There was only one thing missing - a drink! "Should have made myself a martini before I got in here," she muttered. The thought of a drink was like a mirage; it shimmered and would not go away. Finally, Janelee said one unladylike word, "Hell!", and got out of the tub. She padded nude through the living room, heading for the bar and leaving a trail of water behind her.

"Ice, gin... vermouth," she recited. It wasn't until the drink had been poured that Janelee realized she had made far, far too much for just one person. There were at least two and, possibly, three drinks left in the pitcher. She thought about it only briefly, then carried the frost encrusted pitcher back with her to the bath.

"Ah... that's better," she said, as she lay back full-length in the tub and took her first drink." Not a bad martini at all, even if I do say so myself, Miss Morrison," she said aloud, holding the glass up to the love birds for inspection. The drink hit bottom almost immediately, and she felt the warmth invade her entire stomach area. The first glass was emptied in about three swallows. The second took only a bit longer.

She poured the third, took a sip, then made a face, "Too watery! But, what the hell, we mustn't waste good booze." She grinned to herself and yawned. It would be nice, she thought sleepily, if Roger were in here with me. The echoes of these 24 hours with him still lingered in her body. It had been exquisite. Roger's face slowly faded to be replaced by the cruel grinning faces of the Algerian musicians... and, once again, she wondered how it would have felt with them... all six of them!

Unconsciously, she clenched her thighs together and tightly flexed the muscles of her buttocks.

Janelee's thoughts all ran together, and she had just begun to doze off when, all at once, she became aware of laughter coming from what seemed to be the living room area. The sound had floated out to the pool area and came in through the open French doors of the bathroom. A woman? Gina! And one, two - perhaps even more - men. Now there was a shriek of laughter from Gina and the loud ribald shouts from the men. It sounded as if there was a full-fledged party underway in there, even though they couldn't have been in the house more than four or five minutes at the most.

Janelee quickly got out of the tub and began drying herself. Suddenly, she heard a splash outside. Cautiously, remaining hidden by the drapes, she went to the window and saw a nude redheaded man swimming. Another man, middle-aged and balding... also without a suit... stood on the diving board. An enormous penis and testicles that looked like baseballs dangled below him as he held his nose, yelled "Geronimo," and performed a cannon-ball dive into the pool. Waves of water crashed over the sides as he went in. The red-headed man yelled, "Christ, Charlie. Leave a little water in the pool."

Janelee gasped audibly when she saw Gina, carrying a tray of glasses. A man beside her carried champagne bottles... and an erection! Both were nude. The man, short and fat, looked vaguely familiar. Janelee couldn't place him. His prick stood up like a small but lethal cannon poking out of an ominous looking black briar patch. When Gina bent over to place the tray of glasses on a pool side table, the little man stepped up quickly and grabbed her around the waist. He growled playfully as he attempted to insert his penis in her backside." That's a no-no, Harry," Gina said, laughing and twisting away.

Janelee's eyes widened in recognition. Of course! It was that... that obnoxious little man who had attempted to pick her up when she first came to Los Angeles... Harry Moscowitz - the furrier of the stars.

"Charlie," the red-headed man said in mock seriousness as he gazed up at Gina's clean-shaven vaginal slit, "just look at that delectable lil pussy. Why, you'd be in violation of the Pure Food Act if you stuck a filthy prick in that. Man, that's eatin' stuff!" Everyone laughed.

Gina did a small curtsy and answered, "Thank you, Red. That's the nicest thing anyone's said to me all day." She patted Harry playfully on the cheek of his ass and then, as he attempted to grab her, made a clean dive into the pool.

"Water polo," Red yelled." We'll use the puss-puss as a puck." He reached for Gina, who wiggled like a slippery seal in his arms before diving beneath the water. Red suddenly screamed in mock alarm, "She bit me!"

"Where? Where?" Charlie called." Tell her to come bite mine."

Harry Moscowitz was the only one out of the water now. He stood straddle-legged and angrily stroked his prick a couple of times." God damnit," he yelled, "get that cunt out of the water; we can play games after I get rid of this load."

Red looked up grinning." Harry, baby. Calm down... cool it, man. We've got all evening. Besides, we agreed to roll Boss Dice to see who beds the little cunt first."

"I can't wait," Harry growled.

Charlie, meanwhile, had cornered Gina beneath the diving board. His head bent forward and he began sucking eagerly on Gina's left breast. She rolled her eyes and went, "Umm... that's nice." Red swam underwater; he came up with her legs over his shoulders and his head buried in her open loins. Gina's hands went down to his ears and she splayed her legs apart." Ahhh ...," she groaned low in her throat, as his teeth nibbled at her inner thigh.

"Come on, come on," Harry shouted, "get her out here."

Charlie looked up in disgust and said, "Honestly, Harry, .you'd think this was your first piece of ass."

"Well, damnit! It is... for this afternoon, anyway," Harry retorted.

Red looked up from his task, "Bragging again."

Gina laughed." Boys, I think I had better get out and pour us some champange - seeing how poor Harry doesn't know how to open a bottle."

"Crap!" he snarled, and began ripping off the foil around the cork. He removed the wire, then aimed the cork at Alcides's penis. The cork popped and flew through the air, hitting the statue on the chest.

"You shouldn't do that; it's bad luck," Gina called from the pool.

"Luck... smuck... fuck! It's all the same to me." Harry filled four glasses with the foaming liquid. He drank greedily from one.

"Hey, how about us?" Gina called.

"Sweetheart, you want a drink? You come get it. I'll give you a little drink, a little fuck - not necessarily in that order - then you can go back and play with the boys."

"Moscowitz," Red said with a stern note in his voice, "you get your ass in this pool and cool off."

Harry walked rapidly over to the table shaded by a huge blue and white stripped umbrella and picked up a dice cup. He rattled it viciously.

"Come on. Let's get this over with. I tell you, I am about to die."

"Oh, Shit!" Red said in disgust." Let's go, Charlie. This bastard isn't going to give us any peace until we do." He brightened, "Say, tell you what. I bet you a "C" note that Harry finishes third."

"I'll take that," Moscowitz snarled before Charlie could reply.

Charlie growled, "You want to go two fifty to a hundred that you don't get high roll, Harry?"

"I'll take that one, too, sucker."

The men climbed out of the pool, followed by Gina. She began toweling herself and sipped a glass of champagne as she watched with interest the others.

Harry rattled the dice." Who's going to roll first?"

Red and Charlie looked questioningly at each other; both shrugged.

"Okay... okay. I'll go then," Harry said. He slammed the cup down on the table and lifted it. Five dice rolled out into the sunlight." Four fours," he cried happily." Beat that, if you can, you bastards."

Charlie picked up the dice and put them in the cup. He rattled them close to his ear, his long pecker limply dancing with the movements of his arm. He had a comical expression when he rolled out the dice. There was a loud shout of laughter from Moscowitz." He stiffed out. No pairs." He rubbed his palms together and looked over at Gina." Baby, get that pussy warmed up and ready to go." He stroked his penis to harden it even more.

Red asked casually, "What are the odds of beating four fours?"

"About six hundred to one," Charlie volunteered.

Harry turned back to Red, apparently sensing some big money bet was about to be offered. Red pursed his lips for a moment then said, "Tell you what I'm gonna do, friend. Two big bills say I can beat your fours, Harry. You give me... ah... hundred to one odds."

"Big Generosity Man, himself," Harry snarled." No bet! Roll the dice for first go at the cunt."

"Fifty to one?"

"No bet. It's a sucker bet - for you... and for me."

"Twenty to one?"

Harry licked his lips, looked down at the dice cup, then shook his head.

"Ten. to one," Red crooned softly.

Harry swallowed." It's a bet, sucker! Your two hundred to my two grand."

Red turned to Gina." Baby, roll the dice for me. Beat old Harry here, and you keep the two grand. Even if you lose my two hundred, though, I want you to know you're worth four bills any day of the week."

A sudden hush fell over the group. Earlier, Janelee had been aghast. How could Gina be so... so disgusting! Allowing some men to roll dice for her body? But now, though, Janelee was caught up in the drama of Gina being able to perhaps win two thousand dollars. Why it was incredible! Still disgusting... but incredible... and tremendously exciting.

Red handed the dice cup to Gina. She put it down on the glass top of the white wrought iron table." You're sure you really want to do this, Red?"

"Positive."

Gina raised her champagne glass in a toast." To luck."

Red and Charlie both raised their glasses." To luck," they repeated.

Harry growled and said, "Come on... come on. Quit all this screwing around. Let's get on with it."

Gina caressed the dice cup. The eyes of all three men followed it hypnotically as she gently shook it. Her hand tilted dawn, and the dice jumped and rolled out of the cup.

Charlie's gleeful yell carried the message." Four sixes!"

"God damn!" Harry shouted in ill temper and threw his champagne glass clear across the lawn where it hit the shrubs and shattered.

Gina danced up and down ecstatically as she threw her arms around Red." Thank you, thank you." She kissed him.

Even as Janelee watched, Red's penis started growing from the embrace.

Charlie, meanwhile, had begun laughing. He pointed to Moscowitz's suddenly dwindling erection and said, "Hey, look! Harry's losing it."

Harry barked at him, "You'd lose a hard-on, too, if you had to pay twenty five hundred bucks for a piece of ass."

Red put his arms around Gina's waist and cupped one of her breasts in his hand. He grabbed an unopened bottle of champagne and started to walk across the lawn toward Gina's bedroom door." Harry, baby," he said over his shoulders, "don't be a sore loser. You drop that much and more on the races some afternoons."

"Go fuck yourself, Red."

Red looked down at Gina's smiling upturned face. He kissed her, and Janelee saw the other girl's mouth opened to receive his tongue. Then Red said to Harry, "No... I'm not going to fuck myself. Gina, yes!"

A moment later, Janelee heard the French doors to the bedroom slide open, then close again. Moscowitz settled down on the chaise lounge, complaining bitterly.

Charlie finished two glasses of champagne in a hurry, and then sat down at the side of the pool, dangling his feet in the shimmering waters.

Janelee was lost in an agony of indecision. She didn't know what to do. To enter the bedroom now would embarrass Gina terribly, she thought. And, of course, to go outside wearing just a towel was unthinkable. She stiffened suddenly as she heard Gina's low ecstatic moan coming from the bedroom and realized the bathroom door had been left partially ajar.

Janelee bit a fingernail in uncertainty and wrinkled her forehead as she tried to think of a way out of her predicament. From the sound of Gina's moans, the two people in the bedroom probably wouldn't notice if she closed the door. Janelee padded, across the room. She had reached out to gently ease the door shut when she saw what was going on atop the bed. Her breath caught and her body froze. Her heart actually began hammering at the sight. It was a scene right out of the book of erotic drawings beside the tub.

Gina was lying spread-eagled in the center of the bed; her head was rolling back and forth, and her face twisted in an expression of happy lust. Red was kneeling between her naked, widespread legs. His tongue was tracing erotic designs on Gina's flat and quivering belly. Even as Janelee watched, Red took his thumbs and parted the soft, clean shaven vaginal lips. Slowly, tantalizingly, he began licking the smooth fleshed slit running temptingly down between her open legs." Ah... God! It's beautiful. Go on. Lick faster." Gina panted.

Janelee's hands, suddenly trembling, grasped the side of the door for support. She was frozen, unable to tear her eyes from the lewd spectacle. She knew she should turn away and stop this dreadful eavesdropping, but she also knew she was incapable of not watching.

Gina's mouth now hung open wide in rapture; her eyes were closed but the eyelids fluttered like tortured butterflies seeking to take wing. Red pulled back for a moment in order to cup Gina's buttocks in the palms of his hands. He raised her eager cunt to his lips as though he were about to bathe his face. The moist red slit of Gina's vagina opened and closed continuously, and her aroused clitoris was clearly visible just above the pink quivering elastic entrance.

Red's head lowered and his long wet throbbing tongue flickered out like lightning to strike and caress the ganglions of ecstasy at the circumflex of her slit. Gina's body jumped and her legs clamped tightly together around his head. Her hips began a slow up and down movement in rhythm to the probings of his tongue. Even from ten feet away, Janelee could hear Gina's purring sounds - and the occasional low guttural groans of pleasure - as that tongue licked and sucked and chewed and drove in and out of the tight fevered opening.

The sight was causing unwanted reactions in Janelee's body. She was becoming terribly aroused at the spectacle; it was as though She herself were participating. It was her cunt being licked; her buttocks being squeezed. Now, for the first time, she was capable of movement. She didn't know why - or even when - she did it, but her hand had dropped to her own fevered cunt. With some dismay and considerable shame, she realized she was masturbating - vigorously massaging her vaginal lips and clitoris.

Gina's climax came with frightening abruptness. She literally began to thrash around on the bed as though she were having a seizure, and her low mews of pleasure turned - without warning - to a sudden scream of rapture." Aieeee... bite me... bite me...!" Red's head was buried deep between her widespread thighs, but Janelee could see that he held his tongue straight out, permitting the seemingly living cunt to move up and down on it at will. When Gina's movements finally stilled, Red took his lips away and lay atop her. For the first time Janelee saw his penis. Out by the pool, it had been only a flaccid inch and a half long... now it was fully extended until it was at least five and a half or six inches in length. Gina had spread her legs apart to receive him, and now she put her arms around his shoulders." That was beautiful... simply beautiful," she crooned.

Red's voice was hoarse." Put it in for me."

Janelee saw Gina's hand moved down the man's back until it reach the waist then disappear momentarily -to reappear at the testicles which were hanging like taut Gruyere cheeses above the warm, wet mouth of her wide stretched vagina. Gina tenderly caressed the balls, then eagerly took the prick and guided it toward the wet, slightly throbbing opening. She moaned in delight as the hot throbbing rod slipped all the way in with one smooth motion.

Janelee shoved her finger into her own vagina and began making pelvic motions to match the movements of the wildly contorting couple on the bed. The sight was literally driving her out of her mind: Red's penis, driving in and out like a powerful white, blue-veined piston; Gina's vaginal lips clinging like leeches to the lust- hardened pole as it withdrew. And - clearly visible between Red's balls - Gina's earlier cum shining like cream on Red's pubic hair. It was all too much to bear. She wanted to dash in and participate somehow... to stroke Red's testicles... to help her best friend being fucked into a quivering mass of helpless female sensation. She hated her own finger - it was so insignificant, so small, so inadequate. She wanted a cock - a big one! Gina's body had begun to move rapidly, and she cried out suddenly, "I'm cumming again. Fuck harder... Oh God, harder, Red!" The man began driving in with renewed fury, and the sound of their two damp bodies slapping fleshily against each other was clearly heard.

Gina was panting like a puppy dog, "Come on... cum...." Then, her back arched up from the bed and she savagely used her heels as spurs to drive Red in even further." Aieeee... I'm cumming." Red gave one mighty lunge, and his buttocks began twitching as he reached his climax at the same time.

Janelee felt herself close. She pumped harder and harder, her finger ravaging her desire hungry cunt. She had already begun to feel the first sensations of what she knew now was the approach of a climax when suddenly she heard a man's voice directly in back of her." Well, I'll be god-damned! Charlie, come in here. Right now!

Here's another cunt, and she's beating her meat."

Janelee jumped as though she had been hit with a bull whip. She gave a little scream - in shock and shame.

The man moved right up close to her; his cannon-like penis came closer and closer.

Then Janelee saw the slow dawn of recognition on Harry Moscowitz's face." You!" he grunted in surprise." Little Miss Snotnose, the stewardess who doesn't play. Doing a solo. Hot damn! Baby, no need to finger fuck yourself; old Harry's pecker is going to do it for you."

He reached out for her, and Janelee screamed with all her might." Gina... help me."

The love birds fluttered their wings in fright and dashed themselves against the bars of the cage in a vain attempt to get away from the struggling couple.

In the bedroom, Gina shoved Red aside and jumped out of bed. She threw open the door and her eyes grew wide in amazement." Janelee? Good God! What are you doing here?"

"She's going to get fucked," Harry said, grinning lewdly.

Gina angrily stepped forward between the man and the girl." No, she isn't, Harry Moscowitz. That's not part of the deal. Get back out on the patio."

Moscowitz's face was red in anger." Don't tell me! She's hot for it. She was finger fucking herself in here, all the time watching you and Red fucking."

Janelee was mortified. She began crying in shame and the tears rolled rapidly down her face to splash against her breasts. Gina stepped over and put her arms protectively around the weeping girl. Red land Charlie had both come into the bathroom; both were open-mouthed, wide-eyed." Red," Gina pleaded, "take them outside, will you. She's just a kid. And she isn't part of this deal. She's only staying with me for a day or two until she can get her own apartment."

"She was finger fucking herself, I tell you; she's hot for it," Harry repeated.

"Come on, Harry... Charlie. Outside, like the lady tells you," Red ordered, and walked past them out to the pool. Charlie followed and, after a moment of reluctance, so did the other man.

Gina held Janelee at arm's length. The girl refused to look at her. She was forced to use her thumb to raise Janelee's chin. Immediately the young stewardess really began sobbing." I'm so... so... terribly ashamed of myself."

"You were watching Red and me?"

"Yes."

"And you were... ah... playing with yourself, like Harry said?"

A loud sob answered this, as Janelee turned her face away.

Gina sat down on a soft blue velvet cushion atop a white wrought iron bench. She shook her head in dismay." Christ, what a mess! I didn't think you were coming back until tomorrow."

"I'm sorry...."

Gina sighed." So am I. But what's done is done. It's probably just as well; we would've had to have a talk anyway before long."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Look, Janelee, you seemed shocked the other night when you claimed I was a prostitute. Well, I am. I admit it. I don't feel the least bit of shame about it, either. I don't intend to change until I meet a man I really want to marry, or until I've stashed enough loot away that I won't have to worry about money again - even if I live to be a hundred and fifty years old. Until three weeks ago, I shared this place with another girl - Sandy - who felt the same as I do. It worked out fine. No problems. And, really, we made a good team. Sandy married a millionaire oilman. Now, I've got to find someone else. Someone who thinks the way I do. Which... of course... you don't."

"Gina, you're like a sister to me. I can't help, though, how I feel about... about prostitution. It just isn't right."

"You're entitled to your feelings. I guess that you're the kind of girl who can only do it for love, not for money. And, of course, you're still a virgin."

Janelee didn't answer for a minute, then she shook her head." Not any longer."

Gina drew back in surprise." You mean... you mean got laid in London?"

"Yes."

"Holy mackerel. It didn't take you very long. Who was it? Anyone I know?"

"Roger Larsen."

Gina was impressed." Well... if you got to have your cherry orchard invaded, that's the boy to do it. He is a real expert." She gazed off in fond remembrance and sighed, "I remember one night, about a year ago, in Copenhagen... Roger and I... ummmm."

Janelee said, "It was wonderful. Just as you said it would be."

Gina's expression was beginning to change. It no longer was concerned, merely thoughtful." Look, Little Sister, answer me something. Are you in love with Roger?"

Janelee shook her head.

"Then you didn't do it for love, did you?"

"No... I suppose not. I did it for myself. I needed it; I wanted to feel Roger inside me."

"Well, if you did it for yourself - and not for love - then why not do it really for yourself. I mean to get pleasure and relief... and insure your future security at the same time?"

Janelee remained mute; she knew instinctively that Gina's logic was all wrong, even though it did sound right. When she didn't answer, Gina continued, "You know how much I'm charging those guys outside there for several bottles of champagne, the Chateaubriand steak we're going to charcoal broil later, and me? Two hundred bucks a piece! In addition, Red - that lovable idiot - just let me win two thousand dollars as well. And the topper to this whole thing is that I'm getting pleasure from all three of them. I'm not doing it for love... just as you didn't do it for love with Roger... I'm doing it to be fucked and to feel good and to make a buck. Did you see how old Charlie out there was hung - like a bull! Moscowitz is a technician; he can build you up and keep you there for half an hour sometimes. And Red? He's nice... as you've already seen...." she purred deep in her throat.

Outside by the pool, Harry had broken open another bottle of champagne. The popping of the cork sounded like a gun shot." Hey, Gina. Come on!" he called impatiently.

Gina smiled and stood up. She sighed and looked down at the younger girl." I can tell by your face that you don't agree with my philosophy." She smiled sadly, the disappointment evident." It's okay, Little Sister. I would have liked to have you as a business partner living here with me, but I respect your wishes. I think, though, that we'd better find you another place to stay tonight. These guys are really wound up. I don't think you'd be safe from them - not Harry for sure, and probably not Charlie. I'll keep them outside for a few minutes - give you time to get dressed. You can take my XKE; the keys are in the top drawer of the table next to the bed. Call me tomorrow morning - late - and we'll talk." She bent forward and kissed Janelee on the forehead, then walked out to the pool area.

Janelee could hear the low murmur of voices as Gina talked to the men. Harry's disbelieving voice was carried to her, "Really? A virgin until yesterday? Come on, now, don't shit the troops! That's a hot little package; she's been around."

"You're wrong, Harry."

"God, how I'd like to cram my prick into that tight little pussy, then. It'd be worth another couple of hundred... at least."

Red asked quietly, "No chance of her staying for the party?"

"No," Gina said.

Charlie growled, "She looked awful purty to me. Those tits were the finest I had seen in years." He added quickly, "Present company excepted, of course, Ma'am."

"You're sweet, Charlie." Gina replied, and then turned to Harry." Pour me a drink, will you sport?"

Janelee buried her face in her hands. It was so unfair, she thought. This afternoon she had been so happy, even though she had spent all of her hard-earned money for a dress and underclothes. The approximate $170 she had expended was almost exactly half of her monthly "take home" pay as a stewardess. And here - just a few feet away - was a man offering $200 for the use of her body for just a few quick minutes. If she could overcome her revulsion of him - and what she herself would be doing - she could make perhaps $400 or $500 from the men. If she wanted to stay here - with the swimming pool, the majestic beds, the Roman tub, and the lights of the city spread out at her feet - she would have to do it. The problem thus was simple: Stay here and enjoy all the things money can buy and enjoy sex with different men and wind up with a healthy bank account; or go away to more humble surroundings, share a- -crowded flat with four other hostesses and skimp and sacrifice... and occasionally go to bed with a man. She shook her head as if attempting to drive the thoughts from her mind, and she said to herself, "No, Janelee, no! No matter what Gina says, it is a sin. It's prostitution, and it is against the law. You'd be just a common whore!"

Her clothes were in the bedroom, only ten steps away." Put them on and get out of here," the wee small voice of conscience in her mind ordered. Haltingly, she went to the bedroom door. She walked across the soft rug to the chair where her dress and panties lay. Outside, another cork exploded and there was the sound of a loud splash, followed by cheers from the men and Gina's delighted laughter.

Janelee picked up her brief panties. She weighed them in her left hand - balancing them against some other weight unseen. She swallowed. The sun had gone, but it was still very light outside. Janelee slipped on her panties; the feel of the nylon on her still moist vaginal lips sent tingles across her belly. A few moments ago, she had been close to cumming. Now? She'd never cum again, she thought bitterly feeling the dark cloud of shame rolling over her once more. Wearing only the panties, she went to the bedside table and opened the top drawer. The keys to Gina's Jaguar were there - just as she had said they would be. All she had to do now was get dressed... and leave. Somewhere in the distance, a night bird began calling. She gazed around the room; it was so beautiful, so luxurious. She knew that if she left she would be fortunate to ever again see a room as expensive as this one." It could be yours ...," another small voice said. She swallowed painfully. Inside her mind, the bastions of reason were stormed. She took a deep breath, then dropped the keys back into the drawer, and pulled off her panties. Quickly now, so that she wouldn't have a chance to change her mind, she strode across the living room and to the bar, where she pulled out a bottle of champagne from the refrigerator.

Janelee was very aware of her breasts jiggling sexily up and down as she walked across the lawn. She was five feet away before Charlie noticed her. His eyes widened in grateful surprise, and Moscowitz's cigar dropped from his open mouth.

Gina spun around to see what the men were looking at.

Janelee smiled uncertainly, then handed the bottle to Charlie." Will you pour me a drink?"

"My pleasure, Ma'am." His prick was swelling as he took the champagne; not yet fully erect, the huge rod was already almost as long as the bottle.

"God damn Sam," Moscowitz breathed hopefully." You going to join the party?"

This was the moment - it was now or never. A point of no return had been reached.

Janelee felt herself blushing from head to toe. She forced herself to answer, and she hoped that her remark would be the proper one. She looked over at Gina, but got no guidance from the other girl. She smiled and said, "Well, Harry. That depends."

"On what?" he growled.

"I think Gina has already said that I'm not part of the deal."

Harry glanced at Charlie and Red; they all grinned at each other in comprehension.

This, at least, was something they understood. It was business - horse trading, bargaining! Harry moved over until his penis was brushing against her thigh. It felt red-hot there - hot, hard, and powerful." Turn around," he ordered. Janelee turned.

Charlie handed her a glass of champagne. She had raised the glass to her lips when she felt Harry's hand slipping down the soft crevice of her buttocks and his middle finger tentatively probing at her vaginal lips from behind. She jumped, but the - imperative finger remained where it was. Janelee stood acquiescent, her face frozen in embarrassment. Gina still looked surprised, but the expression was rapidly being replaced by one of amusement, as she saw Charlie reflectively rubbing his engorged penis. Red, too, was showing some very evident signs of potent life again.

"By God," Harry said." It is a tight little cunt." His finger began to move more rapidly as it became lubricated from the moisture rising inside. In spite of her embarrassment, Janelee knew her body was beginning to respond to the caress.

Her nipples had already become erect and there was a halo of goose bumps on her legs and thighs. Harry's finger now slipped a little more into her vaginal opening.

Janelee twisted away from him. Her emotions were in a maelstrom - a churning confusion of forbidden excitement, shame, and even anger at the humiliation of being checked over in public like an animal on the auctioneer's block. Fortunately, at this point, Gina took over.

"All right, Harry," she said." You've made your inspection. Janelee, here, is as close to being a virgin as a woman can be without actually being one. She made love for the first time night before last. There's been only one man before. This is the first time she has ever participated in anything like this. So, actually, you'll be acting as her instructor. I would think that, under the circumstances, a minimum of four hundred?"

"Four hundred!" Harry exploded." Christ, I don't want to buy the god-damned thing. All I want to do is rent it for a few minutes. Besides... it's an inexperienced snatch. If I'm acting as her teacher, she should pay me!"

Gina patted him on his cheek and crooned." Harry, baby! Look at yourself... throbbing away there." Gina pointed down at the twitching penis, then put her hand around it and stroked it lovingly a couple of times. He groaned in delight." You want to get into her so badly that you're about to go right out of your mind. Darned if I'm not jealous; I thought I was your favorite."

Harry shook his head in disbelief as he stared at Janelee's melon-like breasts and soft golden triangle of pubic hair." You know... if some bastard had told me earlier today that I was going to have to put out three grand for a couple of pieces of ass, I would have called for the men in the white coats to come get him."

Gina smiled, "It's a deal?"

Harry scowled." It's a deal!" He turned to Janelee who had just quickly finished her third glass of champagne in an effort to get drunk as rapidly as possible." Baby, you'd better be worth it."

Janelee could feel the martinis and champagne loosening some of her inhibitions.

She was at a loss to know exactly what to say or do. Abruptly, she decided that an attack was the best defense. She smiled, walked up to Harry, and forced herself to place her hand on his cock. She squeezed it and stroked it once... twice... rolling her hand in a screw-like motion as she did it. His penis felt the same as Farley's and Roger's - hot, hard, throbbing... exciting! "Harry, if I'm not worth it, then it will be your fault. You're going to have to tell me what to do. Remember, you're my instructor."

Harry snatched a bottle of champagne from Red's hand and grabbed Janelee by the arm." Come on. You're going to learn what it's like to really get fucked, you little cunt!"

Charlie, who had been unusually quiet, said, "You know, I think I'd like a piece of the action, too."

Harry turned back, grinning, and said to Gina, "Charge the lousy son of a bitch five bills. When I get through educating this snatch, it'll be worth that much."

Janelee, weaving a bit, held out her glass to be refilled again. Harry poured it as they walked into the bedroom. She could feel the alcoholic vapours gradually clouding her mind. That was good; she was glad. She didn't want to know what was happening to her.

When they reached the bedside, Harry said, "Your lessons begin now. A pecker is king of the bedroom. Kneel and kiss the king!"

Janelee closed her eyes; it was going to be even worse than she had imagined. The humiliation, the debasement she knew now she was going to suffer, simply wasn't worth the money. When she didn't react, Harry grabbed her cruelly by the shoulder and forced her down on her knees to the rug. She cried out from the pain of his fingers digging into her shoulders, but he refused to let up the pressure." Open your mouth, you bitch," he snarled. When she was slow in responding, he grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her head back.

"You're hurting me," she whimpered.

"Open your fucking mouth!"

Janelee slowly opened her mouth; her lips were trembling from fright and suppressed pain.

"That' better," Harry said." Now, I want you to put your lips around the head of my cock. Just your lips."

"No, please! I've changed my mind. I'm leaving," Janelee said, hoarsely, and made a motion to stand.

Harry cuffed her across the ear, and Janelee cried out in pain." Open your mouth... put your lips around the head of my cock. Do as I say!"

Whimpering in mortification and fearful of being hit again, Janelee did as she was told. The penis head felt like a smooth, rubbery marshmallow, and she could taste a salty sticky substance already oozing from the tiny opening on the tip.

"Put your hands behind my knees. That's right. Now, start sucking like it was a lollipop - gently. Suck, I said! Now, you're getting the idea. Keep your lips tight on it and rotate your lower jaw. Ummm. Use your tongue around the head... lick it."

Harry moaned as he reluctantly pulled the prick from her mouth." Now, I want you to lick the entire cock - just like you were licking a spoon full of frosting. Keep your eyes open, so you can see what you're doing."

Janelee, her ear still smarting from the cuff and her head still painful from having her hair yanked, did as she was instructed. She ran her tongue down the trunk of the instrument, daintily licking it all the way. She licked the top part of his peppermint cane, then - at his instructions - the underneath part.

"Okay, baby, you're doing fine. Now use your lips again and start sucking."

Janelee opened her mouth and the cock was shoved in. Remembering her earlier instructions, she also ran her tongue around the edges of the head and clamped her lips tight about it as she rotated her jaw from right to left. Harry groaned and said, "You're learning fast." Slowly, he began making rocking motions with his pelvis, and the cock moved further and further into her mouth. Soon, she could feel it thumping against the back of her throat. Now, he was attempting to shove it all into her mouth.

She was beginning to gag; he was chocking her. When she attempted to pull her face away, Harry cruelly grabbed her hair and made a violent thrust into her mouth.

The cock scraped the top of her tonsils; she made choking noises, but he did not release her. She couldn't breath; she was suffocating. She had to free herself - to breathe! In self-defense, she used her fingernails to claw the back of his legs and buttocks. His movements had become more frantic and, then, Janelee felt the huge head of his prick swelling inside her mouth. Harry groaned and his stomach and ass muscles tightened." Here it comes, baby," he said, and seconds later the hot streaming spurt of semen flooded her throat. She was gagging, choking; she was already drinking it - forced to swallow or choke - when she heard him say, "Keep sucking... keep sucking. Oh... that's great, baby. Just great."

As his penis began deflating, Janelee found she could breathe again. Not one trace of his cum had flowed from her mouth; she had taken it all. Her lips felt somewhat salty, and she could taste the alien cum in the back of her throat. His pecker continued to throb, even as it grew smaller. Finally, Harry released his hold on her head and looked down at her." Okay, baby. When you get a little more experience, you're going to be a terrific blow job artist." He reached down and helped her rise.

Her legs were trembling uncontrollably. Odd, she thought, I can feel almost the same excitement with him that I felt with Roger and Farley's penis in my mouth. The thought was quickly suppressed and the excitement was drowned by a sudden overwhelming feeling of shame and debasement... which she hadn't felt with Farley or Roger. Harry poured out two glasses of champagne and held one out to her. She quickly drank it in an effort to get rid of the slimy taste of cum in her throat.

"Hey, Charlie," Harry shouted, "come on in here."

Charlie appeared a moment later at the door. He looked surprised." You finished already?" His huge penis stuck out like a flag pole on the side of a mountain.

Harry smiled like a well-fed cat." I got me a quick Frenchie as a warmup, She's going to be a good little fuck by the time we finish!"

"Yeh... I agree," Charlie said, and put his glass down on the bedside table." You ever been laid by a professional wrestler before, lady?"

Janelee shook her head dumbly, again feeling shame at the question.

"Then come here," Charlie said." I figure every woman should get screwed by a professional wrestler at least once - preferably by this wrestler... me."

Janelee moved like a zombie across the room to him, her lips still glistening from Harry's sperm. He picked her up as though she were weightless, placed her flat on the bed, then lay down beside her.

Harry, grinning, asked, "You mind if I watch you fuck her?"

"Yeh... go ahead. You might learn something," Charlie growled.

Harry climbed up on the other side of the bed and propped up his elbow.

Charlie went right to work. His hot lips clamped on Janelee's breast, biting and teasing the nipples. In spite of his gigantic size, he was surprisingly gentle. His big hands moved surely down between her legs and he began massaging her cunt.

Janelee tried to press her buttocks harder down into the mattress to avoid contact with his middle finger as it ran up the tightly closed slit and parted the soft vaginal hairs to reveal the smooth, pink pulsating flesh. Charlie dug his finger deeper into her cuntal opening, and Janelee - feeling dishonored by the sudden betrayal of her own body - shivered in a rapidly suppressed moment of pleasure. She could feel the moisture accumulating at the sensitive opening down between her legs and she winced and moaned as a second finger joined exploration of her vaginal canyons." You're hurting me," she complained. Now, Charlie began working his fingers back and forth; they were going in deeper and deeper. When his fingers had first begun penetration, Janelee's face was contorted in pain and fright - an expression that subtly changed until was one of tautness with the teeth bared and eyes tightly closed. Charlie was bringing fire to her loins. She didn't want that fire kindled; it was an evil, forbidden fire. If she must suffer this debasement, then let her rise above it... accept it, but don't enjoy it. Enjoyment would be wicked, sinful, dishonest! She knew, even as these thoughts raced through her mind, that it was too late. The lewd fires of obscene passion were now roaring out of control.

Charlie's fingers made circular motions to widen the tiny, unstretched cuntal opening and then, abruptly, he forced her thighs far apart and lowered himself between them.

She felt his prick - huge, hot, and implacable - press against her hungry, now throbbing vaginal lips. Now his giant tool rubbed up and down the entire cuntal slit, lubricating itself with the outpouring of her aroused moisture. She held herself rigid, her eyes still tightly closed, hardly breathing - feeling remorse and shame at being fucked for money and, even worse, with another man looking on as a spectator.

All this fled her mind the second the huge head of Charlie's rigid prick insinuated itself between the moist lips and tender ridges of her tiny, resisting cunt. It was enormous! She could never take it! It was not only larger than Roger's, but considerably thicker as well. Charlie paused there for a moment, looking down at her, and said, "You are a tight little pussy, aren't you?"

Beside them, Harry cackled, "I told you!"

Now, Charlie began pressuring forward. The throbbing pole of hot iron slipped into the first layer of resisting virginal muscles and it hurt! She was being stretched beyond any normal female capacity, ripped apart! It hurt more than the first time Roger had penetrated all the way. She cried and tried to pull back, but the huge battering ram followed her relentlessly, grinding deeper, ever deeper, heading for the far secret recesses of her womb." You're hurting me," she sobbed.

"Sock it to her," Harry yelled." All of it - jam it home, big boy."

With one inexorable shove, the shaft of maledom slammed into her heaving belly all the way to the cervix.

"Ah... eee... stop!" she screamed." You're killing me. Oh God, you're killing me!"

Charlie, beads of perspiration on his face and eyes glazed, didn't answer. He began giant, battering ram-like strokes into her tortured cunt. Faster, faster, faster he moved, until she could feel his hip bones crashing into her hips. He was killing her.

She was being ripped apart way, way down deep inside her. She was dying; that was the only word for it. So powerful were Charlie's movements that with each drive inward, his prick levered her helpless buttocks a good three inches from the bed.

The pain was too much. Janelee fell back, swooning, with her arms flung out wide.

The savage ravishing of her cunt continued. Her mind shouted the news to her - shouted in order to get the information registered. Something... something... was happening. Miraculously - way off there in the nether regions of her womb - a change was taking place. She could feel the agony lessen - being replaced by a velvet tingling as nerve ends and nerve centers telegraphed the happy news. Like the Phoenix bird, her straining vagina was coming alive again - rising from the ashes of pain and humiliation. It felt... it felt almost as good as it had when Roger had been plunging his lust hardened cock in there. The fire grew rapidly. She found her hips eagerly beginning to move up to meet each downward thrust of the huge wrestler's.

She put her arms around the massive trunk of the man. And she moved... and moved, grinding her pelvis sideways, and bucking... and fucking back at him like a bitch gone wild.

Alongside them, Harry was growing excited himself." I told you... I told you," he said.

"She's a hot little pussy. Look at it, gobble... just begging for it."

Janelee's mouth had dropped loosely open, and her body was squirming like a powerful fish out of water, as the head of his long thick cock scraped deliciously against the hot, love-starved walls of her womb. She was close; the promised land was appearing through the mists of her own inexperience. She could bring it closer with her body movements; she was flexing her inner cunt muscles, causing them to vigorously massage the prick at each perigee of pussy and cock. She was beginning to moan low in her throat when Charlie's movements became more rapid and, then, with one deep, cunt splitting thrust, he began spewing his vent-up seminal juices inside her. It was scalding, it was beautiful, the spurting cum would never stop, she thought. She was panting, and rocking like a hobby horse gone suddenly insane, when Charlie began to pull out of her." Oh, no... please," she whimpered desperately, "not yet." And she clamped her legs tightly around his buttocks to keep him inside - all the while frantically undulating her pelvis in an effort to bring her own climax to fruition.

She was so close... so close... and not going to get any closer because Charlie had cruelly pulled his cock from her allowing the hot filling sperm to pour in a never- ending stream out of her cunt, down into the valleys surrounding her tiny, puckered anus, and onto the bedspread." Please... come back," she panted, her pelvis still moving up and down." F-fuck me again... please... I need it... please!"

Charlie rolled over. He was breathing too hoarsely to answer. Abruptly, Janelee felt another body pressing itself down between her legs. The cruelly grinning face of Harry looked down at her. He placed his cock against her cunt - rubbing and scraping it against the quivering vaginal lips. Then, tormenting her, he pushed in about half an inch.

Without volition, Janelee eagerly pressed her abdomen up in an effort to get him deep inside her. Harry pulled back. She was so close to cumming that she was having great difficulty breathing. A red flush had crept up her belly and now her breasts looked as though they had been beaten. She clenched and unclenched her thighs trying to capture Harry, but his cock was elusive. She fished around blindly for it with her hand, but he kept pulling it away from her.

After a minute of teasing her, Harry growled, "You want something; you ask for it!

"Please," Janelee panted." Please!"

"Please what?"

"Put it in. Put it in."

"Put what in?"

"Put... your penis in meee! Please!"

"That's not good enough." He scraped his cock across the desperately grasping cunt lips again.

"God damn you," she screamed, tormented beyond all control, "fuck me. Fuck me... eee!" And her fingernails ripped deep into his back muscles, bringing an immediate rush of blood to the surface.

"Why you little bitch," Harry shouted in pain and surprise, "I'll show you!" He savagely slammed his prick into her cunt. She screamed again; this time it was from joy. And she began thrashing around, her heels beating a tattoo of fiery lust against his buttocks, and her arms clenched like flesh-colored handcuffs around his midriff - pulling him deeper and deeper into her. She was there suddenly." Ah... ah... aieee... eee. I'm cumming. I'm cumming!" The climax violently exploded through her loins as though a match had been struck in a gasoline vapor-filled container.

Deep within her, she felt her muscles savagely massaging and sucking Harry's cock in an attempt to devour and ingest it. Her body whipped up and down uncontrollably and once, when she threw out her arms in abandonment, she hit poor surprised Charlie in the face. They didn't stop, though. Harry kept pounding his hardened penis into her, and she kept cumming and cumming and cumming. It was a continuous thing. She was only vaguely aware of Harry's groans of happiness when finally he too came, only vaguely aware that the rhythm had been interrupted just long enough for Harry to roll over and a newly aroused Charlie to take his place. Charlie took longer to cum the second time - a fact that made Janelee extremely happy, for she didn't want it ever to end. But it did... finally. And, her body was aglow; it had never been so alive, so very - very alive before. She could feel every weary little muscle, every sleepy satiated little nerve, in her body. It was wonderful... simply wonderful.

She could feel the soft balmy air currents flowing through the room and caressing her perspiration-streaked body... could feel the still hot area where the lava of her own love juices had combined with the sperm of both of the men. She knew she was lying in a huge pool of cum - hers and theirs. It didn't matter. Actually, she thought as she ground her buttocks salaciously down into the warm, sticky liquid, it feels terribly sensual.

Beside her, Charlie said wonderingly, "That just has to be the greatest."

Janelee turned to face him. She reached out a hand and ran it across his powerful hirsute shoulder muscles." You felt pretty great, too, Charlie... once I got used to your size."

Then she turned to Harry - the man she had despised earlier, the man who had, at first, debased and humiliated her. He was staring at her - his expression fathomless.

She swallowed and then smiled, timidly, "Thank you... teacher."

Harry's face lit up. He smiled. She liked his smile; it was warm, friendly... and she wondered why she hadn't noticed it before. Sure, he was fat, not handsome, and uncouth, but - still feeling the memory of his hot, throbbing, wonderfully trained prick bringing her to that beautiful plateau and keeping her there for so long - he was a man! And her body would always require a man capable of that.

She sat upright." Why don't I get you gentlemen some champagne?" she asked softly, and then - in tribute - bent over and kissed first, Harry's cum-covered penis, followed by a kiss on the huge wrestler's now flaccid cock.

As she went through the French doors leading outside, she heard Harry say to Charlie, "Damned if I don't think that one fuck alone was worth three grand, even if she did cut my back to ribbons with those claws of hers."

Outside, night had come. Janelee had no idea of how long she had been in bed with the two men. A flickering red glow came from the far end of the yard, and a thin veil of blue white smoke floated in the night air. Gina had begun the barbecue. Red was dozing on the chaise lounge.

Gina glanced quizzically at her, then down at the glistening love juices that coated both sides of her inner thighs.

Embarrassed, Janelee said, "I came to get some champagne for them. Then I'll clean up and be right back out to help you."

"No hurry. The fire still has about an hour to go before the coals are ready. Red'll do the steaks; the potatoes are already on. You can help me Willi the salad," Gina said.

She lifted one eyebrow and asked simply, "Well...?"

Janelee merely rolled her eyes and purred contentedly.

Gina poured two glasses of champagne, handed one to Janelee, and held the other up in a toast." Welcome aboard," she said.

By the time dinner was ready about an hour and a half later, everyone was feeling no pain thanks to an entire case of champagne. They ate, all sitting nude at a glass- topped white wrought iron patio table, laughing uproariously at jokes and anecdotes.

Harry proved to be a veritable gold mine of stories about some of Hollywood's most famous actors and actresses, one of whom, a Hungarian, had once asked Harry to make a sable merkin for her.

"A merkin?" Janelee asked in all innocence.

"Yeh... a twat muff. Like, you know, ah... Gina would have to wear one, but you have your own little pelt there." Beneath the table, he slid his toe up the inner part of her thigh and touched her pubic hair. Janelee screamed in mock fright.

Abruptly, about half way through dinner, Janelee knew she was getting drunk - very drunk. The now familiar feeling of implacable desire brought about by alcohol was building up rapidly in her body again. She felt the same as she had that evening when she was dancing for the Algerian flute and drum band in London. The thought of that night made her want to dance so, without asking Gina, she strode like a naked goddess across the lawn and into the front room where she found a torrid folk- rock stereo tape. She changed tapes, turned up the volume, then danced sinuously - automatically - and her golden pelvis wove back and forth like some hungry cobra moving in time to music. The savage beat and rhythm of the piece crowded all other things from her mind. As she danced, she looked as though she were having standing sexual intercourse with an invisible man.

With her pelvis thrust forward and her legs spread wide apart, she danced up to alongside Red's chair... then, rising on tiptoe, she scraped her cunt from the top of his shoulder all down the length of his arm. When her warm, yielding pussy reached his hand, she left it there until she felt the first tentative movement of his fingers against her vaginal lips. She was getting to Red, she could tell. Getting to all of them - Gina as well. Red's penis had risen until it touched the bottom of the table's glass top. Charlie momentarily broke the spell when, peering down through the glass at Red's pecker, he did a theatrical double-take, jumped up and began beating the table top with his napkin and shouting, "It's a snake... a snake! Help me kill it."

Even Janelee was forced to join the laughter. A moment later, though, the pulsating sensual rhythm began buffeting her body again like a gigantic unseen prick. Red was the first to stand up and join her, followed by Harry only a second later. She moved between the two men - turning, twisting, darting toward and then away from the threatening cocks that sought to impale her.

Now Charlie had pulled Gina to her feet. The wrestler made no pretense of dancing a modern dance; he was performing a four-step fox trot with his huge, hardened rod of flesh stuck between her legs. Gina rode it like a railway tie. His prick was so large that once, when they danced past Janelee, she could see the head of it plainly sticking out in back of Gina's legs; it made her look as though she had a thick short tail attached to her buttocks.

Charlie obviously felt he had horsed around long enough. He pulled the unprotesting Gina over to the chaise lounge and lay down face up." All right, my lovely, you can be the boss," he said, huskily as he pulled her down on top of him.

Janelee began dancing as though she were hypnotized as she watched the lewd but terribly exciting spectacle of Gina kneeling over Charlie's midriff and inserting his giant penis into her ready, waiting cunt. It went in... in... in. When Gina began moving her buttocks up and down, up and down, Janelee's body also began to match the movements. She could see Gina's tiny, puckered anus rising and setting like a tiny brownish-red moon. It was at this moment that Red caught up with her.

She felt his penis pressing against her backside and his arms wrapped around her waist." Bend over," he commanded, pushing her forward. Janelee stopped dancing; she stood, legs spread wide-apart, with her thigh tendons extended like flesh-colored cables.

Red put one hand on her shoulder and gently shoved it forward and down. As she bent from the waist, she could feel his penis slipping further forward, down past the anal ring, until it reached the first fevered extensions of her vaginal lips.

"This, my pet, is called 'dog fashion'... in case you haven't heard the term before.

Get on your hands and knees, and reach back and put it in for me," Red said.

Janelee was not really aware that she had done what had been ordered; she was too enthralled by the spectacle of Gina's exciting fuck act with Charlie. Her vaginal lips were fabulously elastic; clinging, they came out almost two inches each time she withdrew her cunt from the impaling shaft.

"Put it in for me," Red repeated.

Janelee, on her hands and knees on the grass, reached back and placed his hot throbbing cock at the portals of her vagina. It slid in with one smooth happy motion, bringing an immediate feeling of joy to her. He began moving - slowly and tantalizingly, in and out. She liked this position. It felt wonderful... he seemed deeper than even Charlie had been - although she knew that was an impossibility; Charlie had practically speared her tonsils. She moaned as the head battered up softly against her cervix. Her mouth hung laxly open as she allowed the lewd, prurient sensations to take command of her body. She made little movements of her buttocks up against him, and, in reply, he began rotating his prick deep inside her. The rhythm of the music on the stereo set was forgotten; this was a better rhythm... a far more powerful music.

Suddenly, she stiffened as she began to realize what Harry Moscowitz was up to. He had been vocally disappointed when Red caught up to her first, but now, as the furrier gazed in open-mouthed wonder at Gina's firm buttocks and the exposed little asshole. He seemed fascinated by the sight, and then he began to smile. Harry walked over and looked down at the happy relaxed expression on the wrestler's face.

"Do you mind if I join you? Make a back door visit?"

Gina twisted around." No... no! Harry, no." The two men paid no heed to her request. It happened very suddenly. Gina had started to rise in protest, but Charlie merely placed one big arm around her waist and pulled her back to him. Harry quickly straddled the end of the couch and used his hands to lift up Gina's hips. He used his thumbs to part the buttocks. Janelee could once again see Gina's tight quivering little anal ring, then it was hidden as Harry bent forward and dripped a load of spittle on it for lubrication.

Janelee couldn't believe it. He was going to fuck Gina from behind? Abruptly, she remembered Gina's fingers that first time... the finger inserted in her own anus... and how it had felt - so terribly wicked, and exciting. The obscene thought of the unnatural forbidden act that was going to take place in front of her caused Janelee to moan in dread and fascination. In sympathy, she rotated her own buttocks a little harder back against Red's buffeting abdomen as he continued those long graceful, wonderful strokes deep into the very heart of her hungry throbbing pussy.

In front of her, Harry partially stood. He had opened Gina's legs wide, and Charlie's straining cock could be seen.

Gina tried once more to rise. She jerked and moaned out her helpless protest to deaf ears.

"Hold her, Charlie," Harry demanded, and used his hands to massage her buttocks.

Janelee saw his middle finger - like a small cock - slip up to the first knuckle joint into the tight, brown anal opening. Gina moaned again, "No... Harry."

"Don't tell me no. I know you like it this way; you always have before."

"But not with two of you at the same time... please."

"Shut up, you'll enjoy it," Harry growled.

"Ah... haaa... you're hurting." Gina said, as the thick finger forced its way in past the second joint. Harry began squeezing the buttocks with his other hand. Now, obviously, the channel was becoming lubricated, for the finger rode in and out easily.

Harry began making wide circular motions as he enlarged the opening. A second finger joined the first, and Gina moaned low in her throat. Janelee could not tell whether the moan was one of pleasure or pain... or both. All she knew for sure was that she herself had begun to moan in sympathy, and eagerness - wanting to see this depraved act begun... and completed.

Without mercy, Harry worked his fingers into and out of the tight, tortured anus.

When he pulled them back on one stroke, Janelee could hear wet sucking sounds coming from the vacuum created in Gina's wide-stretched rectum. She saw Harry now stroking his thick cannon-like cock, preparing it for the painful entry.

Now, as she watched, Harry used his thumbs to roll Gina's buttocks open like a book. Then, keeping the cheeks of her soft, smooth ass apart, he leaned forward pressing the huge purple pulsating head of his cock against the tiny anal opening.

Gina tried once more, "Please... no... Harry. Later, not now."

This merely goaded the man. He was ready; she was ready - whether she liked it or not.

Red's movements were picking up in tempo as he obviously was excited by the show as well. Janelee held her breath as Harry pushed forward for the final time. Her own groan was echoed by Gina's, for the huge, throbbing head had disappeared through the tight restricting ring of brown elastic flesh with a slight popping noise.

"Ooooooh," Gina groaned, and pushed her pelvis down and away. There was no escape for her, however, for as she moved away from the cock in her rectum she merely skewered herself more deeply on the cock in her cunt.

Janelee could see Gina's face all contorted in what appeared to be pain, but then - even as she watched - the expression seemed to be relaxing, being replaced by what could only be construed as a lewd pleasure. There was only a slight grimace when Harry shoved his thick cock in about three inches farther into her rectum and began his back and forth movements to dig in even deeper into the soft brown channel.

Janelee saw Gina splay her legs wider and lift her hips trying now - wanting desperately now - to assist Harry. Charlie's long long glistening rod was moving rhythmically in and out of the vagina; it was joined by Harry's movements as he picked up the rhythm and began thrusting with long hard strokes deep into the very depths of her soft, rubbery rectum. In and out, in and out, the two pricks drove. From Janelee's vantage point,-behind her girl friend's buttocks, they appeared to be white piston rods moving on a crankshaft of lust. Gina no longer was breathing normally; she grunted a breath with each collision of the cocks within the depths of her body.

And her grunts and movements became more rapid as she approached her climax.

Charlie was perspiring and his eyes were glazed; he, too, was getting close.

Janelee was rotating her ass in eager little circles. Nothing she had ever seen or done before had excited her one-tenth as much as the sight of what was transpiring only inches away from her. Those two giant hardened cocks banging into the cunt and rectum of Gina - driving relentlessly in and out - with the women impaled helplessly between them. She was "helpless" in that there was neither the strength... nor desire!... to pull herself away." Aaah! Aaaahh... ah... ah... aieeee!" Gina suddenly screamed, -and began moving frantically like a vibrating belly dancer as the all-powerful orgasm took complete command of her body. She drove maniacally down onto Charlie's cock - bounced eagerly back to receive the other cock. Charlie's arms suddenly fell to the ground on both sides of the chaise lounge; he had a stupid happy grin on his face, as he gushed his sperm like a fountain deep up into her hungrily nibbling cunt. Like an infuriated demon, Moscowitz banged furiously away at her inhumanly stretched rectum attempting to obtain his own release. And then he, too, was there - banging and suddenly relaxing - his full weight on Gina, and the weight of the two of them on Charlie. All three were groaning out their pleasure and release, as the cum - like twin fountains of pagan lust - erupted from both orifices between Gina's legs.

For a moment, Janelee thought she would go out of her mind she was so heated up from the obscene spectacle. But then, the blossoms began unfolding inside her own belly, and she could feel her own climax thundering down her canyons like a wall of devil water racing from a broken dam." Harder, fuck harder. Red... fuck faster!"

Red sawed away at the command. She felt his engorged penis slam home with vengeance and, abruptly, there was the unmistakable throbbing and pulsating of his prick which announced his cumming. That was all she needed herself." Aiieee...

Oh, yes! Yes! I'm cumming," she screamed, and madly whipped her buttocks back and forth - back and forth - in an effort to get every inch of Red's rampaging cock inside her. He spewed his hot cum directly into the hungry sucking mouth of her womb. She fell forward - senseless - full-length on the grass, and as she did so, Red's penis slipped wetly from the depths of her cunt, continuing to spurt the white hot cream of his orgasm onto her buttocks and back.

Gradually the storm within them all died. They all lay - almost lifeless - for about five minutes before Harry, with a deep sigh of satisfaction, pulled his prick from Gina's rectum. It made a loud sucking noise as it released the pressure and came out. He glanced curiously toward Janelee who was lying belly down in the grass. When the girl had fallen forward, her continuing orgasm had caused her to claw the ground, and her fingernails had gouged great furrows in the grass.

Oddly enough, it was Janelee - with less than five hours sleep in the last 72 hours - who showed the most energy a few minutes later. It was she who rummaged through the cooler and brought out four more bottles of champagne; it was she who made the sandwiches; it was she who insisted on the men staying "a while longer"; it was she who took on Red and Harry in a repeat of the rectum-cunt spectacle; and it was she - indomitable and inexhaustible - who, at three a.m. thought up and directed the High Altitude Refueling game in which she and Gina linked arms and bent over to permit the "planes" and their long protruding "fuel probes" to lock in and be gassed.

It presented a wild and almost unbelievable sight under that bronze-colored southern California moon as Harry and Red - both completely drunk by now - flew in formation and approached the fueling ship." Angels one and two request permission to refuel," Red said, mimicking an Air Force radio message.

Janelee and Gina looked at each other and giggled." Request approved. Angel one fuel on the left. Angel two on the right." The two men - making noises like jet airplanes - moved slowly forward, still in formation, and wormed their pricks deep into the girls' rectums." Angel One and Two," Janelee said - groaning a bit, "You are locked into place. Put on manual control." Both men dropped their hands and began massaging the clitoris and vagina as they began a salacious back and forth.

Charlie zoomed around unhappily." I'm Angel Three," he growled." Hurry up; I'm running out of gas."

Janelee was almost lost in the wildly exciting sensation of being sodomized, but she heard Charlie's radio call, and glanced over toward Gina, whose eyes were almost rolling back into her head in pleasure. Janelee's words came out as grunts because of Harry's eager buffeting." Angel Three... ah... oheee... approach from right side and use emergency fuel station." Charlie, perplexed, frowned. Janelee was forced to motion with her head toward Gina.

Charlie abruptly got the idea. With his arms outstretched as though he were banking a plane, he moved over to the side of Gina's face. Gina's hand reached out to grab his cock; she tantalizingly guided it across her lips until she clamped down like a soft warm rubber vise near the trunk's base. The huge throbbing head was taken into Janelee's mouth, and as Gina licked the trunk, Janelee began massaging the huge rubbery head with her lips.

All told, it took almost ten minutes to complete "refueling" of all three planes... arid Janelee was pleasantly surprised to discover she could achieve an orgasm - just as strong and long lasting as a vaginal one - from being sodomized. The game ended with all five "planes" crashing to the grass happily.

Janelee was still ready for more fun and games, but it was Harry Moscowitz who shook his head. His voice was only a hoarse croak of exhaustion when he said, "Baby... it was easy to turn you on... but how in hell does someone turn you off. God... I'm bushed."

Charlie nodded his agreement." Me... I feel like I just went ten falls with Man Mountain Dean."

Red said nothing, but his yawn told the story of his weariness.

It was Gina, lines of exhaustion etched on her face, who said half in warning, "Janelee... darling! Why don't you go into the pool and cool off? Work off some of that excess energy. Otherwise, you're going to kill all of us."

Pouting drunkenly, Janelee said, "You are all a bunch of party poopers!" She did as she was told, however. When she came out of the pool a few minutes later, the men were in the front room dressing.

The black sky in the east was just beginning to turn gray and yellow and the moon had set beneath the shrubbery when Harry, Red and Charlie left. Gina waited until she heard their car pull out of the driveway, then, with her eyes closed, walked slowly into the bedroom and fell onto the crumpled bedspread. She was instantly asleep. Janelee looked maternally down at her before taking half of the bedspread and pulling it over the girl, then she lay down herself and stared up at the ceiling.

She smiled. Her body was purring in contentment." I'll never go to sleep," she said to herself." I'm too excited." She turned over to face her bedside table; the reason for the excitement was there. She reached out and fingered the stack of bills; there were ten $100 bills there - all hers... and Gina had offered to split half of her $2000 dice winnings. That would make a total of $2000 coming to Janelee - just for this one evening. Not bad - not bad at all. Only six days with WIA and already she had more money than she had ever had before in her life, had enjoyed - really enjoyed! - sexual intercourse with one woman and four different men, had achieved more than two dozen beautiful climaxes.

She sighed. She smiled again and closed her eyes. Just once, a few micro-seconds before sleep rolled over her, she felt a tiny stab of shame and remorse. But it was a momentary thing. She slept and, when she awakened late the next afternoon with the shrill jangle of the telephone, she was still tightly clutching the stack of bills.

END OF PART ONE

PART TWO

CHAPTER ONE

Three things occurred on Janelee's first anniversary as WIA stewardess. One: she was promoted to senior stewardess - a recognition not often given until the girl had worked at least three years with the airline. The promotion was due in part to Janelee's phenomenal grasp of foreign languages and in part to her "seduction" by the Chairman of the Board of Directors for the airline who, near senile at 73, had somehow or the other gotten the impression he had broken Janelee's maidenhead.

The second thing was a deposit to her Swiss bank account which brought her passbook balance up to $65,000. More than half of this amount had come on a stock market investment made for her by a young stock broker who had told her to buy an option for 1,000 shares of stock in a small electronics company. The option called for purchase of the stock at $14 per share; six months later, when the option came due, the stock was selling at $48 a share, and Janelee's modest little $2,000 investment had brought her $32,000 profit.

The third thing was disturbing - extremely so, and it hurt - even though it did not come as a surprise. For several months she and Gina had not been quite as close as they once were. It was not until this morning however, that Gina had put words to her unhappiness. She had expressed herself rather forcefully." Janelee," she said, "we've got a good thing going here. I'd hate to see you ruin it."

"What do you mean?" Janelee had demanded, not quite sure what the other girl was implying.

"Well, for one thing, you're drinking too damned much. You're becoming almost a lush! I don't mind occasionally having a nice little orgy with two or three men, but not with six and seven... like you've come with the last two times you've had a few drinks. When you booze it up, you just don't use any common sense. You're going to get us both fired, injured by some kook, or busted by the cops... or all three.

For a moment, Janelee flared in anger; then, realizing the truth of the accusation, she immediately became contrite." Look... I'm sorry. I'll... I'll try to be more careful in the future."

"No more basketball teams?" Gina was referring to an entire basketball team who had wound up at the house after a championship game - guests of Janelee's - and the resulting 24-hour orgy that had left Gina and Janelee almost senseless and had caused damage to the house.

"I promise."

"And no more jazz musicians," at least not the whole band?"

"No more."

Gina's harsh expression relaxed; she forced a smile as she patted Janelee's knee.

"Okay, Little Sister. That's all I ask... just keep it down to a small riot." She sighed, glanced at her watch, and straightened up." Guess I'd better get to the terminal. Paris in the autumn - how delightful, how beautiful, how tremendously... boring! Bleeah!" She started to rise." Take care, kid. See you on Friday?"

Janelee shook her head." No... I'll be in London - then on to Athens."

"Oh? Anyone I know."

"Alex Meikoronos."

Gina lifted one eyebrow.

Janelee saw the gesture and shrugged." He pays well. Besides, he said you had refused to answer any of his calls or cards."

Gina said, "I don't intend to answer them either. And he should pay well. The last time he used his Ping-Pong paddle and that two-headed dildo thing on me I couldn't sit down for almost a week. You know, I still can't figure out why - with all those movie actresses around him - he can only get his kicks with airline stewardesses."

"Don't forget the Lebanese boys."

"Oh, yes. The boys! Twelve and thirteen year old ones. Did I tell you about the time he made me watch on his yacht. He actually had an erection without any of his usually "paddle" preliminaries; he got it as soon as he saw the boys. Originally there had been six kids who came downstairs. He brought them all down to his cabin, made them take off their swimming trunks, and then asked me to take off all my clothes. I didn't have the slightest idea of what he had in mind. Right away, three of the boys got erections. This infuriated the old man; he screamed at them - told them to dress and get out! He then made the three remaining ones come over and run their hands over my body. One of the boys - a cute little stud who knew exactly what he was doing - began rubbing me in a particularly vulnerable spot... and he got a pretty good sized hard-on while he was doing it. Alex tossed him out, too. That left only the two twelve year-olds. I thought at first he was going to use one of his dildoes on them. But it wasn't necessary. He made me stroke him until he was ready. Then he made the boys bend over and pull apart their buttock cheeks. The younger kid looked as if he had done all this before; he appeared almost eager. The other one was crying... afraid I guess. Alex, naturally, chose that one; he could hardly wait to sodomize the kid. He spread some kind of cream all over his penis and all over the kid's fanny, then tried to insert his penis. Lord, it was huge - big, bulging and throbbing; I didn't see how it could ever get inside the boy - after all, his little asshole wasn't as large as a dime.

Alex tried to put it in - and it slipped out - springing up like a jack in the box. He tried again, only this time he had his hands on the boy's hips. I saw the head of it begin to disappear into the kid's anus, then the boy started screaming and yelling, 'no... no! ... please, Monsieur! No!'; he tried to get away. Alex made the other boy and me hold the terrified kid. Then Alex pressed forward and his penis moved all the way in.

The kid screamed once and made a face, but after a second or so, he sort of relaxed and became resigned. Alex was huffing and puffing away. All of a sudden, the kid he was sodomizing looked startled, and I saw he had an erection... a helluva good sized one for a twelve year-old. Alex put his hand down and grasped the kid's penis and stroked it. The boy liked that; he moaned and rolled his eyes. Then, without interrupting his rhythm, Alex told the other kid to bend over in front of them. This one knew exactly what to do. He eagerly backed up to them, spread the cheeks of his fanny, and allowed Alex to guide the other boy's penis into his rectum. It was quite a show, and it lasted almost twenty minutes. That was my last date with Alex Meikoronos." Suddenly concerned, Gina glanced again at her watch and jumped up from the table, "Good Lord, I've got to get going."

After Gina left, Janelee sat drinking her coffee and staring out at the city. It was clear today - one of the clearest days she could remember for Los Angeles. Some ten miles to the south she could see Baldwin Hills, and beyond this, where the sea was spread out like a blue rug.

Gina's story about Alex Meikoronos had not dismayed her - actually it had excited her, and this started her thought processes." Have I become so inured to all of these things that I'm now shock-proof?" she asked herself. She looked back at the past year. The simple, naive, virginal little Janelee Morrison who had arrived in Los Angeles one year ago no longer existed. Had she really ever existed? Where was the turning point? That night with Roger Larsen? The night she made the decision to stay with Gina and "join the team"? Who had been here that first night? "Oh, yes," she said, "Harry and Charlie and... ah?" She thought for a moment. Odd, she couldn't remember the third man's name - even though he had screwed her three or four times. She frowned in chagrin. It was the first time she had really thought about it, but just how many men's names had she 'forgotten ? How many men had she been intimate with during the last year? She tried to calculate the number, but could only come up with an unsatisfactory estimate of "about 150". She grinned and said aloud, "Still, though, at a minimum of $200 per evening? Not bad...."

Janelee rose from the table, stretched, and yawned." I have everything I've ever wanted," she said aloud." Clothes, car, and money." She thought about her statement. Was this truly "all she had ever wanted? Wasn't there a time when she had wanted love and affection and a family?

The question somehow saddened her. She went to the bar and poured a double- shot of 16 year old Scotch into a glass. She started to walk out to the pool, then came back and picked up the bottle. She was very pensive when she removed her $200 silk crepe dress and sat down nude upon the chaise lounge. She drank deeply of the Scotch, refilled the glass, then lay back with her eyes closed. It would be so nice, she thought, if there were a man available right now... someone deep down inside me. She drank.

The sweep hand of her platinum wristwatch moved around the dial, rushing toward its appointment with the big hand and little hands.

It was exactly 11 a.m.

Two hours later, the bottle was empty.

CHAPTER TWO

The night flight from Los Angeles to London was surprisingly short on passengers, only 11 people in the first class compartment and less than thirty in the tourist section. Practically all of the tourists were sitting mid-ship, forward of the wings. The back part of the plane was a darkened tunnel. Ruth, the little Israeli stewardess, used the unexpected period of inactivity to write letters. Myra - a tall lanky blonde Austrian - catnapped. Caroline had gone up in the first class section to chat with an "interesting looking male".

Janelee, senior stewardess for the flight, stared solemnly out the windows into the black night. She was so bored she wanted to scream. Generally, between 115 and 130 passengers were booked on this flight. Usually she was so busy she didn't even have time to sit down. Now it had been almost an hour since any of the passengers had made a demand. She tapped her fingers impatiently on the table in front of her.

It was going to be a long long night, she thought.

Ruthie had completed her letter; she sealed the envelope and yawned.

Janelee glanced over at her." Take a nap, if you want," she said." I'll keep an eye on our passengers."

Ruthie yawned again and nodded. A moment later, she closed her eyes and seemed to drift almost immediately into a sound sleep.

Janelee got up and walked the length of the plane, checking on the sleeping passengers. Caroline, deep in an animated conversation, looked up guiltily as Janelee wandered into the first class section." Relax, dear," Janelee said." I'll call you if we need you."

The young man with her, undoubtedly wealthy, grinned his thanks.

Back again she went, down the tunnel toward the rear of the plane. The two other stewardesses were sound asleep. Janelee looked down at them. Ruthie was at least five years older than she, but still the Israeli girl appeared to be much younger than the senior stewardess. Myra - the Austrian girl - had a look of unshakable innocence about her as she slept... appearances, though, in Myra's case' were very deceptive. Myra was an energetic little fraulein who, on two previous occasions, had jumped into a communal bed with Janelee and two pilots.

Janelee sighed deeply. There must be something to do, she thought, in near desperation. Letters to write ? No, there was no one. Someone to talk to? She shrugged. She walked on past the two girls and entered the pantry. A piece of cake ? No... Coffee? No. Without understanding how or why it had happened, she found she had unlocked the liquor cabinet. She stared hungrily at the row upon row of tiny bottles. Beefeater's Gin. Beefeater's Martini - Very Dry. Old Bushmills Irish Whiskey. Ronrico Daiquiri. Smirnoff's Vodka. Smirnoff's Vodka Martini... She swallowed. She knew now the reason for her unease. She wanted a drink! Her body needed a drink.

That, though, was the one thing she couldn't have. Stewardesses were forbidden to drink for 24 hours before a flight. There were enough company "stoolies" or "stew spies", as they were called, to make infringement of those rules extremely dangerous. No one ever knew when a "stew spy" might be in a restaurant the evening before you were to work a morning flight. You could get suspended and fired for breaking the 24-hour rule. But to drink on a flight! It was unheard of - more dangerous than Russian roulette. Janelee glanced guiltily around her. The two stewardesses were sleeping. No one was near. No one, she thought, could smell vodka on my breath. Quickly then, before she could change her mind, she pulled down two Vodka Martini bottles and a paper cup.

The drink hit her stomach like an Acapulco sunset. She could feel its happy glow inside her. Wonderful. Simply great. Odd, how her spirits had suddenly perked up.

She was aware of her body; it was almost singing to her. The vodka martini was downed, and she felt a momentary sadness that it had gone so rapidly. She moved out of the pantry and sought her purse in the stewardess compartment. It took her only a moment to find the lipstick-container-sized bottle of breath freshener. God, how vital she felt. The boredom of the flight had fled, to be replaced by a feeling of euphoria. She loved the world and all its peoples.

Down the aisle she went, checking on her passengers. At 25-A, a dark-haired, rather handsome young Irishman was fumbling with his air vent. The people in the seat in front of him were asleep. No one was seated opposite him; he had the entire row of seats on both sides of the plane to himself.

"Can I help you, sir?" Janelee asked quietly.

His Irish brogue was tremendously appealing to her when he answered, "I can't get this air thing to work."

"Let me," she suggested, and slipped in next to him. Because of the reclining position of the seats in front of them, she was forced to put one knee on the arm of his seat. She stretched her arm up toward the air vent and, when she did so, her skirt rose revealing the top of her sheer nylon hose and most of her warm upper thigh. She expertly swiveled the air vent into operating position, then glanced down at the Irishman. His dark eyes were fastened on the little sequined bird embroidered on her blue garter. For some reason, it amused her; she thought it funny - the expression on his face and his eyebrows raised in amazement at the bird. And, if she were honest with herself, there was the look of desire in his face - a hungry lust... and the knowledge that he desired her, that he found her desirable, pleased her.

Ordinarily, Janelee would not have reacted this way to a man's attention during a flight. It was obvious; by the way his hands were clenching and unclenching, that he was fighting the desire to reach out and touch her. Well, why not, she thought suddenly - she wanted him to touch her, to caress her leg. It wouldn't do any harm; it might even be fun.

"I don't think your light is working properly, either," she lied, and reached up and over him. Her breasts, straining against the bodice of her uniform, were only inches away from his mouth. She made the unnecessary adjustment to the light and, as she did so, she brought her right thigh over until it came into contact with his hand.

She deliberately made it look as though it were done accidentally, and the young Irishman must have thought it unintentional. Still, though, it did not keep him from making a small, almost imperceptible, stroking movement against her nylon hose.

She pretended not to notice it. The second time it happened there was no doubt; his large capable hand moved up even further - to the no man's land above her nylons, that area where the sleek bare upper thigh leads to the promised land. His hand was hot against her bare skin, and mentally to herself she urged, "Go on, you fool. Don't stop there."

Janelee abruptly became aware that she had been holding her breath; she released the air from her lungs with a sigh. Obviously, she could no longer pretend she didn't know his hand was there. She looked down, and as she did so, the boy threw all caution out the window and gently cupped her vaginal mound in the palm of his hand.

"I saw a little bird," he said, that brogue now deep and showing signs of excitement, "and I went a lookin' for its nest."

"That's a no-no," she said, smiling in spite of herself.

"I'm sorry, Lass, I can't hear a word you say. Drone of the airplane engines - air pressure - all that, does things to me ears." He began gently squeezing his hand, and his middle finger teased at the already damp crotch band of her skimpy bikini panties.

"If you don't stop that, I'll never get this light fixed," she hissed.

"To hell with the light." And his finger found the elasticized leg band; it slipped into the forbidden soft pubic haired territory and immediately sought the fevered goal of her cuntal slit.

Janelee glanced nervously around the plane. The passengers slept. All right, she thought in sudden delight from the touch of his hand and finger, why not. Why not!

She flipped off his overhead light and, when the dimness descended, she moved her pelvis in order to give his hand more freedom.

She bent down close to him and whispered." You mustn't do that." She put her hand in his lap and was not surprised to find his trousers bulging; it felt as if he had a huge banana hidden inside his fly." You mustn't tease me. That isn't nice... how would you like it if I teased you that way?" She stroked his hard penis through his trousers.

"I'd love it," he growled. And, without saying anything else, he reached over and unzipped his trousers. He fumbled for a moment, and then his giant prick leapt out in freedom. It was beautiful... just beautiful, she thought, as she put her hand around it and lovingly stroked its living warmth. The boy moaned low in his throat and began making sawing motions with his finger against her moist vaginal lips. God, she thought, how wonderful it feels. His finger was a magic bow moving over the taut strings of her passion - bringing a wild music to her cunt. It was wildly exciting. The element of danger, the sheer audacity of the thing happening, only added fuel to her smouldering desire. She wanted him inside her; she had to have him. It was madness, though, to think it could happen here on the seat. He was fumbling with her panties now, seeking to remove them. He had them down about mid-thigh, but that was as far as they could go... until she removed her garter belt.

"Look," she whispered, and gave his penis a couple of fast hard strokes, "give me a minute, and come on back to the rest room. But be quiet!"

He whispered back, "I'll not be able to get down the aisle with this thing in me way."

He replaced her hand on his cock, "And I hardly think it's about to go away by itself."

Janelee forced herself to pull away from him." You'll make it down the aisle... if you want to badly enough."

She stood, pulled her panties back into place, and straightened her uniform. She looked around; everyone still slept. Quickly then, before departing, she bent forward in tribute and took his cock into her mouth. The slight saline taste was familiar to her; she savored it. He moaned loudly as her tongue raced madly around the fringe of the head and her lips created a vacuum. Slowly she began moving her head up and down on it, letting the cock slide in and out of her mouth. The prick was growing hotter, larger... throbbing, throbbing, throbbing like a runaway heart. For a moment, she thought about finishing him off, but that wouldn't have helped curtail her own lust. She took it full-length, then removed her mouth.

"Wait...." he began, and tried to pull her back down.

"No," she interrupted rapidly." I'll see you in back." She didn't wait for his answer, merely stepped out into the aisle and went back to the pantry next to the rest room.

Hidden there, she removed her garter belt and panties. A moment later, she saw him rise from his seat and began nonchalantly walking back toward her. It was all she could do to keep from laughing aloud. Even though he had his hands buried in his pockets in a futile attempt to hide his erection, it was all too obvious. Janelee glanced at Myra and Ruthie; the two girls continued to sleep, their breath coming evenly.

She motioned with her head that he should take the toilet door on the right. He went in. Janelee stood on tiptoe attempting to see all of the plane. It was quiet. Quickly then, she slipped into the rest room and closed the door behind her. The space was so small that their bodies touched.

She turned, kissed him, and began rubbing his penis through his trousers. His hands lifted her skirt and slid down between her thighs; he grunted in pleased surprise to find her vagina unprotected - waiting eagerly for him. Janelee unfastened his belt, undid the clip holding the waistband, and then unzipped his pants. She used both of her hands to peel his pants and jockey shorts down to his knees. His huge white rod pressed hotly against her belly. She stood on tiptoe, legs outspread, trembling with excitement and eager weakness, as she used her hand to guide his cock to the moist fevered opening of her vagina. The head of the prick gently parted the soft, sparse pubic hair and slid wetly in, and the familiar feeling of pleasure swept through her loins." Fuck me - fuck me hard!" she groaned into his ear. The Irishman slammed it in full-length." Ahh, God, that's wonderful," she panted.

Perspiration was streaming down the Irishman's face; it was hot in the rest room. He still wore his coat and tie, but his real heat was coming from a fevered lust that boiled through his veins like white hot lava. Janelee grasped his buttocks and dug her fingernails deep into their soft flesh, as she pulled him toward her. She was impaled like a helpless insect on his prick; it was all she had thought it was going to be - great, hot, hard, and beautiful.

The Irishman wasted no time; he gave it to her standing up. His lust hardened cock pounded into her waiting cunt - long, almost vicious stabs into the heart of her womb.

She took all he had and gave fair measure in return, with her vaginal muscles and lips massaging his prick as it went in and pulled out. Her hips rotated wildly, and she met him thrust for thrust. So fierce was their lust, that they had been in there for less than three minutes before both of them reached a climax at the same time. Janelee wanted to scream out her pleasure, but that would bring the troops rushing to the rescue. And so, she stood there - soundless - feeling the undulations of happiness reverberating like a silken gong throughout her body... feeling his scalding hot cum drown her thirsty vagina in a creamy belly-filling potion of love.

Finally, his eyes closed in happiness, he pulled out of her and she was reluctant to feel him go. He sighed rapturously, "That, Lass, is something that doesn't happen everyday. And surely not in County Cork."

She smiled and patted the cheek of his buttocks." You're sweet," she said." No I think you'd better get out of here and let me clean up a bit."

"All right," he answered. He took a sheet of toilet paper and wiped his dripping penis dry. A moment later, his pants zipped up and belted again, he opened the door and peered out." All clear," he whispered.

Janelee relocked the door, sat down on the toilet stool, and urinated away most of his seminal juices. She dried herself as best she could, and straightened her uniform and fluffed her hair. Then she stepped outside. It was as though she had never been away. The girls slept on. Janelee went into the pantry and dug her panties and garter belt out from behind a tray. She glanced around the corner, then put them on.

She looked down at her watch. It had all happened - everything from his first cautious touching of her thigh as she fixed his air vent to the act of sex and cleaning up - all had happened in less than eight minutes.

Janelee drew a deep breath. The fever had left her as rapidly as it had come. She felt the warm dampness still between her legs, the fading glow of her orgasm. All that in less than eight minutes! She smiled secretively to herself, then sat down opposite Ruthie. She stared at the sleeping girl. It would be nice to talk to her - to ask her how she feels when she's with her fiance... Well, let the poor child sleep, she thought. I'll wake them both up in forty five minutes or so.

For a brief moment, she thought about going forward and talking to the Irishman; then she realized there was nothing they had to talk about. Everything they had wanted to say to each other had been said in about eight minutes.

The sky outside was lightening now, and within seconds the sun popped up on the eastern horizon line. People began stirring, and service lights started to flicker in the pantry.

A short time later, when they began serving breakfast, she went past the Irishman's seat and saw that he was sleeping as peacefully as a new born child. He slept until they landed.

Janelee nodded at him as he debarked." I hope you enjoyed your flight with WIA, sir," she said, with a completely straight face.

"Oh, that I did - wonderful flight. Best ever." And then with a cocksure smile he was walking past her and down the unloading ramp. It wasn't until she saw him greeted by a heavy-set and very pregnant young woman who had seven freckle-faced children in tow, that Janelee realized she didn't even know his name.

And... abruptly, she was really quite tired... and a little sad, for one reason or another.

CHAPTER THREE

In October, there had been an unexpected layover in Copenhagen. Leaves from the old city's trees had long since turned gold and red, and fallen to be swept away by the chilled winds blowing in off the North Sea. The days grew shorter, the nights longer... and the nights were full of unimaginable fantastic colors as the aurora borealis spread out from horizon to horizon. At times like these Janelee thought the sky itself was a fountain with streams and sprays of colored water dancing heavenward.

That afternoon she had walked the sunny streets, with her expensive wool dress moulded to her full thighs by the crisp wind, and her hair flowing freely - whipping behind her as if she had a golden mane. She drew no more attention than any other pretty girl. Somehow, the anonymity pleased her. She was feeling at peace with herself for the first time in several weeks. There had been a bad time three weeks before... starting with another row with Gina over Janelee's questionable selection of males whenever she drank. Immediately following this, Janelee had been a bridesmaid at two different weddings - once at Karen's and once at Dolly's; both of the girls had gone through stew school with her... both had looked radiantly happy.

That had been an extremely bad moment; Janelee had suddenly wanted to chuck the whole thing, had wanted to go back to Windsor College and be a school girl again, to go back to that simple time, that simple place. And yet, a few minutes later as she had caressed her sable stole (a gift from Harry Moscowitz) she had known there was no possibility of going back. The simple life was only a mirage of something that had never been and never would be.

Now, as Copenhagen's early afternoon turned cool, Janelee felt she wanted company - someone to talk with. Quickly then, she retraced her steps to the WIA office on d'Angleterre Square and scanned the crew list to see who was in town. She had gone down the sheet only half way before her finger ran into Roger Larsen's name. The two of them were at the Royal.

How nice. She smiled. Yes, it would be nice to talk to Roger over dinner, then go dancing in some .quiet intimate little place, and finally return to their hotel - full of good food and drowsy from the pleasant companionship - and make delicious love.

As Janelee rode in the taxi back to the hotel, the stewardess thought about what she would wear that evening. She had decided on a lemon colored wool crepe dress when she dialed Roger's room.

The telephone rang... and rang... and rang. Finally, just as a disappointed Janelee was about to hang up, the receiver on the other end was yanked off its hook.

"Yes?" It was an impatient snarl.

"Roger?" She was puzzled; it didn't sound like him.

"Yes? What do you want? Who is this?"

"It's Janelee."

"Oh... hello there." The voice still sounded impatient, not friendly or welcoming at all.

"Did I wake you?"

"What? No... not exactly."

"You sound as cross as a Russian bear."

There was a sigh of exasperation on the other end of the line." Ah... look, I'm sort of busy at the moment."

Distinctly, then, Janelee heard the muffled laughter of a woman, followed by sudden silence as Roger clapped his hand over the telephone mouthpiece. Abruptly she realized the situation, and even though she knew she had no claim over Roger, she became angry and jealous.

"I'd like to talk to you, Roger," she said quite firmly.

"I'll call you later," he said.

"No... I want to talk now."

"You, Janelee, are being a little on the bitchy side."

"You're fucking well right, I am. Who have you got in bed with you?"

"Goodnight, Janelee." It was a simple, but emphatic dismissal. Even as she was shouting into the mouthpiece, the telephone went dead.

"Damn you, Roger Larsen, you can't hang up on me," she yelped, and began dialing his number again. The line was busy; Roger obviously had taken the phone off the hook and gone about his business." Why you... you...." she sputtered. Even as she struggled to find the right adjectives for the pilot, she knew she was being unreasonable. Her shoulders slumped and, slowly, she replaced the phone in its cradle.

"Now why should I be crying, for Christ's sake," she asked, aloud, as she brushed a tear from the side of her nose." I can get any man I want - any man! Why let one turn down bother me?" Still, though, she knew she would have been very comfortable with Roger. The feeling of well being she had felt earlier in the day had evaporated.

She needed a drink. She poured three fingers of Scotch and downed it in one gulp.

Then she refilled the glass, gave it a dash of soda, and went into the shower.

Twenty minutes later, refreshed and feeling a certain resigned relaxation from the Scotch, Janelee pulled on her lemon-yellow wool crepe, and went downstairs to the bar.

The stewardess had been sitting there exactly one minute and 45 seconds when a giant of a man - at least 6'5" and 275 pounds of solid muscle - sat down beside her.

She saw startlingly blue eyes staring out at her from beneath a blonde thatch of hair.

Then the man's voice - deep and heavily accented - said, "I hope you will not think me bold, but my name is Gunnar Norbergsen. You are English, yah?"

Dimpling and pleased, Janelee shook her head negatively.

"Sveedish?"

Again she shook her head and smiled. In spite of his mammoth size, he was "cute".

"You are not Danish? Norveegian? Churman?"

All of these were followed by a shake of her blonde head.

"Vell... vould you say something? I vill guess then."

"What would you like me to say?"

"American!" The word was shouted as his hand slapped the bar with enough force to shatter a less well-constructed counter. His laughter boomed out like thunder.

"American! I vould nefer have guessed." Imperially, he held up one huge ham-like hand and signalled the bartender, "Polish vodka and caviar, for my liddle American friend and me."

Janelee started to demur, "I'm drinking Scotch."

This was no obstacle to Gunnar; he merely extracted the glass from her hand and said, "Now you vill drink vodka with me. Yah?"

"All right." It was said dubiously, however. Janelee had never drunk straight vodka before. A moment later, the four ounce glass of chilled vodka was placed before her, together with a heaping saucer of caviar. Gunnar held up his glass, "To friendly relations between our two countries." He touched glasses with the stewardess and then downed the vodka in one swallow.

He smacked his lips and held up a hand for more.

Janelee sipped her vodka; it was surprisingly good, in spite of a raw taste. And the caviare was the best she had ever tasted. Gunnar obviously was a man of expensive and well-educated tastes.

The giant was proposing another toast, "To good fortune."

"To good fortune," she repeated, and this time drained her glass.

Gunnar immediately signalled for a refill. When both glasses had been topped again, he looked at her expectantly." Now, what shall ve toast?"

Janelee laughed." Hey... I'm not even sure what we toasted the first time. You said 'to friendly relations between our two countries', but you aren't Danish. I can tell that."

"Danish! Hah! Nefer! The Danes are all farmers." He glowered around him as if daring someone to take offense. If anyone was insulted by his words, they were keeping it to themselves because of his immense size." I'm Finnish. Ve are hunters."

Janelee lifted her glass." To Finland, then."

"Yah. To Finnland." His Adam's apple jiggled and the glass was emptied. It remained that way for only a few seconds.

"I've never been to Finland," Janelee said, thoughtfully, staring into her glass and feeling the warmth of the liquor spreading throughout her loins." I've been to a lot of other places, but never Finland."

"A pity. I miss my people... my country... but," he shrugged his massive shoulders, "one must make a living as best they can." He looked serious, then the boyish smile came back." Actually, I haf enough Danish money that I build house at Helsingor, und during the vinter, it is like I am back in Finnland once more."

"Helsingor?"

"Yah... about thirty kilometres from here. On the North Coast. I haf Finnish cook, so I eat Finnish. I haf a big antenna, so I hear my radio stations at home... und I haf my sauna."

"We - that's my roommate and I - have a steam bath at home... in Hollywood. I guess that's something like a sauna, isn't it?"

Gunnar guffawed." A steam bath! Hah! Is nothing! Those for Turks and Hungarians and men who can play vith boys." He paused, his eyebrows colliding in thought across the top of his nose." You nefer been in sauna?" He shook his head as if she were some poor disadvantaged deprived waif. Then he said, "Drink your vodka. Ve go. I take you to my sauna... show you."

"But... but I," she began, not knowing what to reply.

"Come. Come. It is only twenty-fife-thirty minutes away. I bring back right away."

Janelee inspected his face. Then, satisfied with what she saw, nodded and drained her glass." Why not," she said.

"Yah! Goot. Vhy not! You haf coat; Helsingor gets much wind and cold."

"I'll run upstairs to my room and get a wrap," she said.

"Goot. I drive car, meet you at front door."

Ten minutes later they were speeding along the dark highway leading toward the North Sea. Gunnar drove rapidly, chattering merrily away about inconsequential things. Janelee sat back in the deep comfortable seats of the Volvo; she was feeling relaxed. Only a very minor little giddiness was present to show she had consumed half a pint of Scotch and almost a pint of vodka within the last two hours.

The night sky was ablaze with a green light from the borealis; it shone now like spotlights coming off the edge of a cliff. The only other illumination came from an occasional passing car, and the distant yellow glow of some Danish farm- house.

They crested a hill and the dark waters of the sea was in front of them. Without slowing, Gunnar pointed with his right hand at the lights of a city shining across the channel." That vill be Helsingborg - Sveeden." He motioned with his left hand, "Und that vill be Norvay."

The road made a turn into a small canyon facing the sea, and it was here that Gunnar left the highway and drove down a dirt trail leading toward the water. When they rounded a curve, Janelee could see a large structure in the shape of a square fortress; it abutted out over the sea." Mine," he said, simply - not bragging, but with some pride in his voice.

"Why, Gunnar. It's beautiful. And so large!" She said both in considerable surprise.

She hadn't really known what to expect. A cabin, perhaps; but not this.

Gunnar had pushed a button on his dashboard and, before them, the side of the garage slowly rose. Once the car was inside, the door closed again. Gunnar led the way into the house. The front facing the sea was all double-glassed, and when he turned on the spotlights outside she could see the waves crashing in on the rocky promontory right below the window. Gunnar switched on the stereo, and the music - something soft and tantalizing - whispered above the sounds of the sea. He threw a couple of huge logs into the walk-in fireplace; sparks flew upward like resurrected butterflies. He appeared again moments later carrying a magnum-sized bottle of vodka and two glasses. He filled both glasses to the brim and handed one to Janelee.

"You know the ceremony, Skol?" Gunnar asked, "It's a toast, isn't it?"

"Yah. But there is special way to toast. Raise pronouncing it "skawl". your glass. Look at me. Shout 'Skol' und drink it all at one time. Keep your eyes on me all of time... und ven you are finished with drink, ve touch glasses... und then you can look at something else."

"Right," she said, grinning, and then held up her glass." Skol!"

"Skol!" he shouted, and with one toss of the head, poured the drink down his gullet.

Janelee followed the custom and she felt the raw vodka hit bottom immediately. She knew she was going to have to watch herself, for vodka is one of the trickier liquors.

Gunnar poured another drink." Come ...," he ordered." Ve go see my sauna." He led her across the front room and down a yellow-pine paneled corridor. He pushed open a door and stood back for her to enter. It was his bedroom. She hesitated momentarily, and Gunnar laughed." Come... come," he said, "it is through door over there near vindow. The other door leads to toilette." Glass in hand, Janelee followed him across the thick rug of his bedroom and out the door he had indicated.

Now they were in another hallway; this one was unheated, and she realized they were probably crossing a covered patio into a smaller building adjacent to the big house.

Gunnar opened the door to the cabin and, with the hand carrying the vodka, motioned Janelee to come on in. When she stepped inside, she was at first disappointed. It looked as if it were merely a three room shack. The heat room was obviously in the cubicle to the left, behind the closed door. The toilet was in the right cubicle; she could see the stool. A deep sheep skin rug was on the floor of the main portion where she stood.

Gunnar put down the bottle and glass, removed his coat and tie, and placed them on the hooks below an overhead shelf containing large white towels. He grinned broadly at her, "Ve take sauna now."

Janelee blinked." Oh, no. I... I mean...."

Gunnar's smile faded; he looked hurt, disappointed." You do not... want to sauna."

He sounded as if he couldn't believe what his ears had heard.

Janelee didn't know what to say. He looked so crestfallen, so unhappy." Gunnar," she began, "I couldn't. I hardly know you. You just don't ask someone you've just met to take off all their clothes and go into... into...." she shrugged.

"Ve do in my country," he said, nodding his head for emphasis." It is... is what you call 'insult' to refuse. Bad manners!"

Was he serious? After a moment of inspecting his face, Janelee realized he was telling the truth. It would be an insult, bad manners, to refuse him. Abruptly, the situation amused her, and she was thinking as she kicked off her shoes, "What a helluva way to pick up a girl! Wouldn't the boys back in the good old U. S. A. love to have a custom like this one?"

Gunnar's grin came back when he saw her shoes come off. Quickly, he yanked off his shirt and undershirt and dropped his pants. A moment later he was standing in front of her stark-naked. Janelee felt her breath go out of her body just as if she had been kicked in the belly when she saw the huge penis dangling down his leg like a baby elephant's trunk. She tried to force her eyes away from it, but they kept coming back to the instrument as if not believing what they saw. The penis was almost as thick as her wrist, and it was so long that it came to within three or four inches of his kneecap. Gina once had shown her pictures of a Cuban male whose prick was atop a table and alongside was a standard ruler; the cock, not erected, had been longer than the ruler. Gunnar's may not have been quite that long, but it was thicker. When he moved barefooted across the room going toward the heat cubicle, the prick swayed back and forth like a heavy pendulum." I fix heat for us," he said." You come in vhen you haf clothes off. Bring towel."

Janelee removed her dress and slip, stepped out of her brief panties, and removed her bra. She took a deep breath and shivered a little. Without clothes, it was cold in here - much colder than she had realized. Still, though, she hesitated to go into the other room. If the truth be known, she was frightened.

Gunnar came out again; he froze on seeing her. He cocked his mammoth head to one side, inspecting her body. She could feel the flush climbing ta her face. It was as if he were vastly surprised at seeing she actually had a body.

"What's wrong," she demanded.

"Nothing. You are... it is... you are perfect. I not see girl pretty as you for long time - maybe nefer." Even as Janelee watched him, she could see his monstrous balls rising into the tightening scrotum - moving upward like a freight elevator or a cargo net rising.

"Come," he said suddenly." It is plenty hot inside for start." He grasped the bottle of vodka and nodded toward the door. Janelee had no recourse but to follow him; it was too late now. The door closed behind her.

When she stepped into the sauna cubicle, the heat hit her as though she had stepped into a blast furnace. Defensively she tried to draw back, Gunnar grinned proudly at her, "A good sauna, yah!"

Even though she had just entered the room, perspiration was already pouring out of her." Shoo... ee! It's hot in here," she said, blinking her eyes as perspiration dripped off her eyebrows." How hot is it?"

Gunnar shrugged, uncaring." Maybe ninety fife - hundred degrees."

"A hundred!" she protested, "but it's got to be hotter than that." Then she gasped as she realized the implication of his statement. A hundred degrees, but that was centigrade measurement... that meant it was hot enough for water to boil.

Gunnar meanwhile had motioned for her to sit down on a long bench that had been built into the wall. Carefully, she arranged her towel and eased her sweat-glistening buttocks onto it. She was almost retching for breath, and her lungs felt as if they were leaves rapidly drying out under the implacable heat of an August sun. Gunnar passed in front of her and went to the corner where he dipped a ladle into a small pool. He tossed the water onto some white bricks and a huge cloud of steam rose; the steam seemed to make the room even hotter. Then the giant easily swung himself onto the bench above Janelee's head, where he lay out full length." Is better up here... warmer," was his explanation.

Janelee decided she would be more comfortable lying out on her bench, so she spread the large white towel over the slats and lay down full-length upon it. Gunnar made no effort to talk, neither did she. Actually, the heat was much too intense to encourage conversation.

After ten minutes, Janelee felt she had no more perspiration left in her body; she was all dried out, even though great rivers of sweat still dripped from her frame. At this moment, the giant arm of Gunnar slowly came into sight and lowered the bottle of vodka to her." Here," he ordered." Drink. Und then ve increase the circulation."

She took the magnum and was forced to use both hands to hold it up to her lips. She took three healthy gulps of the raw liquor, then handed the bottle back up to Gunnar.

A second later, the giant slid off his bench and stood before her - looking down at her supine figure and the stream of sweat running like a silver river down her abdomen where it disappeared into the vee-like crevice of her vaginal slit. He nodded in appreciation, and once again she was conscious of the tightening of his scrotum. It was hypnotic. Gina once had told her that was the first sign of an impending erection on a male. Janelee could only lie there and think, "Migawd, if he's that huge now, how big would he be if he had a hard-on?"

Gunnar leaned down over her. He ran his hand across her belly - staying well above her golden nest of soft, sparse pubic hair. It was strictly an inspection to see how she was taking the heat; even so, her body responded to his touch." It is time now," he explained, "to increase the circulation so that bad blood is filtered out."

The giant moved to the corner of the room and came back holding two tied bundles of birch branches. He motioned for Janelee to stand upright and handed her one.

"You hit me," he said. Janelee knew it was a traditional part of the sauna ceremony - after a period of dry heat, those in the sauna used birch branches against the bare skin of each other. The switching, usually applied with some vigor, caused the skin to flush and presumably the circulation to speed up. Following this, there was usually a wild dash through a snow bank and a dive into a pool of water only a degree or two above freezing. The whole ceremony was enough to give an out of condition North American a coronary.

Now Gunnar nodded to her to begin." You hit...." He turned around and bared his shoulders to her.

Janelee lifted the branch and lightly struck him.

He guffawed." Do not hit like a liddle mouse; hit hard!" She struck him again, using a bit more force.

"Harder!" he demanded. Janelee shrugged, if that was the way he wanted it, she'd give it to him that way. She drew her arm back, and the branch whistled in the air to hit him just above the buttocks." Again," he shouted. Something was happening to his voice and, for that matter, something was happening to Janelee, too. She had never beaten anyone before. She found herself wickedly rejoicing at the feeling.

Quickly then, she flailed out with the branch - hitting once, twice, three times against the white globes of his powerful buttocks. Red streaks immediately were visible on his behind; it was as though he had been clawed by some animal. Gunnar sighed and his voice was only a purr now, "Yah... more."

Janelee let herself go; she continued to beat him with the branch; she found herself gaining strength as she did so, and each time her arm rose and fell, the birch branches actually whined as they flashed through the air. There were marks - deep, blood-line marks on his buttocks now where the thin cane-like limbs had cut into the skin. She wondered if she could hit him hard enough to really cause the blood to start flowing, and the thought of that brought frenzy to her. She beat him until she could no longer raise her arm. Finally, taking deep gulping pants of breath as a result of her exertions, she was forced to drop her arm weakly at her side.

"That vas vonderful," Gunnar said, "it has helped my circulation. Und now I increase your circulation." He turned, and Janelee recoiled in fright when she saw what the beating had done for him. His huge penis was now fully erected; it stood out like an iron stove pipe. So big in circumference was the penis that a dime could not have covered the urethral opening. Gunnar's eyes were glowing with a dangerous unholy fire." Turn about," he gutturally ordered.

"Trembling, not knowing what to expect and afraid to refuse, Janelee did as she was instructed. The first whistling crack of the birch branch almost drove her to her knees, and a scream of pain bubbled out of her throat, fee hit her again and again, concentrating on her buttocks. He drew blood within half a dozen blows.

"Gunnar," she screamed, "You're hurting me!"

The giant paid no attention to her. His arm rose and fell with a maniacal fury. Her body was afire with agony; the pain was the only thing she was aware of. She must stop him. She must. The girl turned to him, shouting, "Please... no more." And that was a mistake, for the branches of the birch cut into her breasts." Aaiiiieeee," she howled, and fell - legs out spread - onto the hard Wooden bench. The birch whistled down again, hitting now her unprotected vaginal lips. He hit her again... and again.

She had been crying out to no avail for at least two minutes before the first feeling of masochistic pleasure began to take precedence over the pain.

Gunnar's face had assumed a contorted expression of sheer Viking lust; his forefathers had looked the same when they had sacked and burned a town, and had begun the ensuing joyous rape of the town's women. Panting and blank-eyed, he dropped the birch branch finally. In her heart, Janelee could not tell whether she was glad or sorry the whipping had ceased. She lay there - her eyes wide and frightened, her stomach quivering, her legs trembling, her vagina on fire... waiting... waiting for whatever the second act of this would be. There was a growing anticipation in her cunt, but at best it was an exercise in futility. She could not take him. She had to tell him that he was too big for her. Not even a woman who had given birth to many children and whose vagina and womb had been thoroughly stretched could take that... that diabolical cock.

The Viking giant leaned toward her, and his prick brushed her pubic hair.

"Gunnar... no. You're too big for me," she said, attempting to push him away.

"Yah...." He suddenly reached down and forced her legs even further apart.

"No Gunnar, no!" she pleaded.

Grinning, and obviously using only a very minor percentage of his immense strength, Gunnar lifted her legs and forced her knees back against her chest." No...." she struggled, panting, but he paid no heed to her cry of terror.

Now his weight was pressing down against her knees, pushing them deeper into her breasts. Then he was full length above her, his stomach keeping her knees in place.

She felt the first fumbling as his huge cock scraped uncertainly across her smarting vagina and anus. God, the head of it was larger than a baseball." No... please."

She was helpless as a butterfly pinned to a board." Gunnar... listen to me; you'll kill me." He would kill her, too; she would split open. They'd have to take stitches in her vagina if he tried to put even a portion of that cudgel in there. Gunnar's eyes had lost none of their Viking fury; she was staring into their fiery depths when the head of his cock finally found her unprotected opening. He pushed forward." Aaiiieeee," she screamed in agony. His long, thick cock slid without hesitation into her cunt - moving as though it were a white submarine sliding down the launchways. It pushed the soft flesh of her vaginal walls; inexorably it continued to go in... in... in. It would never stop! She could feel it pressuring its way deeper and deeper. She screamed again when it struck the obstacle of her cervix and merely ripped on past that - tearing and ripping as it went." Aaaaaaggggh," she groaned, and her fingernails were claws, and her body was one gigantic temple of pulsating agony. Finally he stopped - not out of compassion, though; he had gone as far as he could go and his balls had slapped like iron pods down against her tiny, puckered anus. She panted hoarsely.

She began weeping, and the tears joined the perspiration from her forehead and "the saliva from her laxly open mouth. She could feel exactly where the giant prick had come to a stop; it was up there in her belly, up even beyond the navel. Gunnar ground his hips into her.

"Oohhhh," she moaned beneath him. She didn't want him to move - any movement was wild, excruciating hell.

Her pussy had never been so filled before in her life. His cock felt as though it had simply shredded every obstacle in its path. There was a momentary release of pressure as Gunnar pulled the prick out about three inches, then he slammed it back in again." Aaaaggghhh," she groaned. Her voice apparently goaded him; he liked to hear the abject sound of helplessness. He began to drive mercilessly into her. She was unable to move - afraid to move.

Gunnar stopped for only a moment... then he pulled back about eight inches before ripping inward to seek even a deeper penetration." Ohhhhh... aaaaaahhhh," she bubbled, and the tendons of her neck stood out like powerful steel cables. She had never been so helpless, so incapable of movement or action, before in her life.

Gunnar no longer seemed aware of her presence; he obviously began moving toward his own fulfillment. Viciously now he began to pound his mammoth, pile- driving cock home. Each savage jab brought pain and something else to her abdomen. Her vaginal lips were forced to pucker outward at least an inch and a half each time he withdrew; they were brutally battered by the glistening white pole. She was being torn apart; she knew it. She was being killed, she was dying... and she knew it. The bulging white cock pounded in and out, in and out, in and out... faster, faster, faster.

Janelee mews of pain, though, had gradually been changing. Even she wasn't aware that her faithless body had begun to react of its own volition. The first thing she knew of it was her hips were moving, even though she had willed them not to. In spite of his weight, her body was finding new strength. And she could feel once again the return of pleasure to her tortured loins. She began to writhe beneath him in an effort to bring her now excited vaginal muscles into better contact with that god-like prick.

She groaned incessantly now, and her own eyes were glazing over with lust. She was merely a servitor, a willing and eager slave of passion. Gunnar reached down and cupped the white globes of her ass in his hands; he began squeezing them as though they were sponges carrying some precious fluid." Oh, yes," she said, "oh, yes!" He squeezed them in time with his own implacable drive into the heart of her womb. Janelee could feel her vagina pouring out more and more lubricant to deal with the hot plunging piston of his masculinity. Her moist wet hole was accepting him now; graciously and gloriously accepting him. Her vaginal muscles played, teased, and massaged and sucked at his prick. Her womb was gratefully opening, allowing him even deeper penetration. The earlier pain had all disappeared, and she joyously raised her ass to meet each new thrust. There was no longer any sensation but that which existed in delirious quantity down in her wildly clenching pussy. She was being fucked as she had never been fucked before, and she knew it.

"Fuck me," she cried." Fuck me, harder... harder."

With her words, Gunnar rose slightly, releasing her knees, from her chest, but when she tried to entwine her legs about his waist, she found this was not what the giant had in mind at all. Instead, cruelly and without mercy, he pushed her knees back, back, back, further back until they were on a level with her head. Now he plunged into her with renewed fury, going deeper than he had ever believed possible. His prick pounded into her as if it were some run-away pump. Soon, she was twisting and squealing in passionate abandonment beneath him. The ever widening passage of her cunt swallowed the whole of his cock and she wanted more... more!

Gunnar's thrusts suddenly quickened and Janelee could tell by his eyes that the fires had reached their inexorable peaks; his movements became almost frantic, and the hot pulsating prick was growing even larger in circumference. She was getting., close, too. She could feel it building up inside her - threatening to destroy her from the sheer rapture of it all. His balls continued to smack brutally against her ass, and the bristly pubic hairs on his balls scratched against her upturned anus like sand paper.

"Ah? Ah... aaahhh. Yah! Yah!" he shouted, and the thick hot viscous streams of cum began flooding deep into the lonely fjords of her wildly sucking cunt.

Janelee chanted, "Come on... come on," and her body whipped back and forth like a racing snake as she sought her own release. In spite of his cumming, he was still driving hard and deep. Suddenly her breasts heaved and her breath ceased. The world was ending... this was the end. And, abruptly... beautifully... she was there, with her cunt opening around him as warm gushes of her own vaginal fluid joined his thick spurting streams of cum. The lips of her cunt milked his prick as though it were one great teat gone out of control in an automatic milking machine.

And still they came...

How long it lasted, Janelee didn't know. All she knew was that his motions had grown less violent, less imperative. Actually, when she thought about it later, she had the definite sensation that they had continued to fuck - gently and peacefully - for about fifteen minutes more, when he had come at least twice again. She, of course, had reached four or five climaxes - each one growing in the afterflow of the preceding one. Toward the end, she gave up and merely swooned in delightful rapture.

When she regained her senses, Gunnar was standing beside her... the boyish, almost bashful, grin on his face again. He held out the bottle. She shook her head weakly, "I don't have the strength to hold it."

Gunnar nodded, "Yah. Here I hold." And he had placed it like a baby's bottle to her mouth.

Later, after Gunnar had thrown her into a pool of the coldest water she had ever experienced - almost causing her to faint from the sudden cold - he briskly dried her in a towel that was so rough that it felt like sandpaper against her skin. Then they sat nude by the window, watching the frigid North Sea crash into the rocks. The bottle of vodka was finished. And then they went a second round of fucking, which lasted almost an hour.

It was almost dawn when Gunnar took her back out to the car. She slept all the way back to Copenhagen and the hotel. He shook her awake." Veil, here ve are. Right vhere it all began."

She sighed wearily; it had been quite an evening.

"You go bed... get sleep," he said, paternally patting her thigh, as he handed her an envelope.

"What's this?" she asked, puzzled.

"Your money." Gunnar seemed perplexed by her question.

"My money?"

"Yah... a t'ousand kroner. You worth every liddle bit of it."

Suddenly, he seemed to become aware that she was unhappy and angry. He cocked his head to one side as though he didn't understand.

Her voice was as cold as the wind coming in off the sea when she asked, "What makes you think I'd accept money... for what we did?"

"Vell ...," he blinked and nervously scratched his head just above the right ear.

"You are hure? Yah?"

"What the hell's a god-damned hure?" she snapped.

"A hure! You know ...," he stared out the window, his face screwed up in thought as he tried to come up with a translation. Then he smiled...." You call them 'prostitutes' in America? Yah?"

"Did I ask you for money," she demanded, fighting to keep control of her voice.

"No."

"Then whatever made you think I was a whore?"

He swallowed, and she could hear his spittle sliding down the back of his throat.

Obviously, the poor man didn't know what to say. After a moment he said, apologetically, "I think you vere hure because you look like one vhen first I see you at bar."

Tears were streaming down Janelee's face as she yanked open the door and ran blindly across the tarmac to the hotel door. She made no effort to hide the tears during the seemingly interminable elevator ride to her room, and did not answer the subdued "good night" of the curious elevator operator.

When Janelee got into her lonely room, she turned on all of the lights - including those in the bathroom. Then she stood, staring in the mirror at every plane and every feature of her tear-streaked face. Finally, sobbing uncontrollably, she buried her face in her hand and asked, "How did he know... how could he possibly have known?"

CHAPTER FOUR

Nowadays, Janelee drank at the house only when she knew Gina would not be back soon. Further, she did it cautiously and always made sure that the liquor supply was replaced and the empty bottles discarded away from the immediate area.

Still, though, what Gina didn't know wouldn't hurt her. Janelee vaguely realized she had a problem, but it was something she felt she could solve without outside help.

She admitted that she probably drank more than she should, but as long as she could handle it and not get too drunk, why worry?

In April, Gina took a 15-day layover in Lisbon. Janelee partied every night unless she had a flight. She was having a blast... a swinging, wonderful, high-living blast. And she really began to put away the booze then.

There had been several days when she had taken a drink immediately after gargling in the morning and had spent the day in a rather dazed, but happy glow. Two or three of these days she really wasn't sure who was with her or what she was doing.

With Gina out of town and on a different schedule so that they rarely saw each other, Janelee began throwing all caution to the winds. A strange thing began happening, though. When she was drunk, which occurred more and more frequently, the fires of lust and passion never really got beyond the subtle stage in her loins. She merely lay there, quiescent, permitting the man or men to do whatever they desired - in whatever way they desired. One morning, she awakened and dimly recalled, with a sinking feeling or revulsion, a circle of middle-aged males shouting drunkenly and applauding while she bucked on her knees like a bitch in heat and a huge Irish Setter dog had sexual intercourse in her anus. Another time there was the vague recollection of five males at one time - one taking her anally, one vaginally, one orally, and two being jacked off by her. And still another instance, in an upstairs bedroom at an expensive Bel Air party, six negro musicians had masturbated in a cocktail glass and she had accepted $100 from a Beverly Hills real estate broker to drink it. She had drunkenly done so and, for another $100, taken on the musicians and several other men before she passed out from alcohol and exertion - her quivering abused pussy seeping from the collected sperm of over 15 males. The mornings after these events, she would be so terrified at what happened that, white- faced and trembling in abject horror, she was forced to have a drink to calm her nerves. Time after time, she swore to herself that she would give up liquor completely rather than suffer another blackout.

Some of the other stewardesses had begun to notice Janelee's problem. It was having a secondary effect on her. Her face was beginning to look a trifle puffy mornings when she awakened, and there was a hard expression on her face which even the best cosmetics could not hide. Too, she was putting on weight, and she received one five-day suspension from the airlines because of excess poundage. But only Janelee knew that those extra seven bulging pounds had come from booze.

April 25th was one of those unexpectedly nice April days in Southern California. An east wind - blowing into a Santana - had cleared the sky of smog and had sent the temperature into the mid-eighties.

Janelee awoke with the sound of the wind banging a tree limb into the side of the house. Her head felt as if it had been cleaved by an axe. She lay there with her eyes closed, feeling only the immense gong of agony reverberating through her skull. She tried to remember how she had gotten the headache, and then feeling the cum encrusted sheets beneath her thighs and the raw soreness of her rectum, she remembered the Pakistani businessman who had come home with her last night.

The dark man had no desire to have intercourse through the vagina, but he had shown great delight and energetic skill in reaming out her cruelly stretched rectum with his huge variegated prick.

She groaned as she got up and staggered across the room. There was only one sure cure for a hangover, and that was a beer - cold and foaming in a glass, together with a double shot of bourbon. She stopped at the bar for a moment, trying desperately to remember if Gina was due back today. She smiled through her cracked lips when she remembered that the other girl would be gone for at least another week. Janelee choked as the hangover cure went down, then moments later, she got under a shower... knowing she didn't have strength enough to go into the pool or draw water in the Roman tub.

She was feeling a bit better when she stepped out of the shower twenty minutes later. The horrible taste of the toothpaste was the occasion for another beer and bourbon. By noon, she was feeling more like her old self... thanks to half a pint bourbon and four beers. Pleased with the unexpected warmth of the day, she went outside and lay down nude to sunbathe on the chaise lounge.

She did not forget to take the bottle with her. By two she was drunk; she passed out at two-thirty. Dimly - very dimly - she was conscious that someone had forced open her mouth... had placed something big, hard, and saline in her mouth. Someone was talking to her.

"Whazzat... whazz jew say?" she muttered drunkenly, not opening her eyes.

"I said, suck on it honey. Suck it."

Abruptly Janelee realized that it was a cock that was throbbing in her mouth. She tried to smile in friendly fashion, but her face was twisted because of the penis shaft.

So, like an innocent infant incapable of insurrection, she did as she was instructed.

She sucked... and sucked... feeling the prick being shoved in - pulled out - shoved in... suck, suck, suck, until finally the inevitable hot stream of jism filled her mouth and throat. She lay there with her head to one side, the cum running out of the corner of her mouth and down across her shoulders. She was aware that whoever had been there was gone. She dozed. Perhaps it was half and hour later when she dimly heard other voices talking alongside her. A man said, "See, Tommy. I wasn't lying to you. She gave me a blow job."

The other man replied, "You're sure it's O.K.? She ain't sick or anything is she?"

"Naw... the stupid bitch is just drunk. There's two broads living here - both of them are high-priced hookers. Fuck her to your heart's content. She don't mind."

"Well, I would like to try out a piece of that." She felt a pair of thumbs peeling aside the folds of her vaginal lips." Jesus Christ. She has got a pretty pussy all right. You sure there ain't no one else around?"

"She's the only one."

"In that case I'm going to fuck it." There was the sound of a zipper, then Janelee felt the tugging as someone separated her thighs. She shook her head from side to side, "Muzzn't do that," she muttered through her drunken haze.

"Sure we should," the original voice said." Now wouldn't you like to be fucked? Be honest with me. Wouldn't you just love to feel a big old hard cock shoved into that cute little snatch of yours?"

"Don't care ...," she said sleepily.

Janelee went back to sleep. She awakened once with the man's penis pounding into her. She heard his breathing coming faster, then his motions speeded up and he began throbbing deep inside of her. He pulled out after a moment and then another - a different - cock was in her. This one sawed in and out of her for what seemed to be half an hour - but perhaps there had been a time lapse and the first man was trying it again. She didn't know; she didn't care. She just wanted to sleep. Finally she was left alone. She slept until the chill of the California desert night air awakened her. She was shivering cold. Her head ached. It wasn't until she began walking across the lawn to get into the house that she felt the seminal crust on her thighs and remembered that someone - two men! - had fucked her. She licked her lips and could taste the elixir of maledom there.

"Who was it?" she asked herself, perplexed. A friend? Not likely - not treating her like that when she was almost unconscious. Who then?

She was still puzzling about it when she decided two hours later to go down on Sunset Strip to see if there was any action left, she needed something... oh God she need something... but couldn't be quite certain what it was...

CHAPTER FIVE

The whole foundation began to crumble in May.

Janelee was suspended after she had called up two hours before flight time and complained of being "too ill" to make the flight. The Crew Scheduler had reported to his supervisor that Janelee Morrison's voice had sounded as if she were drunk. A doctor on call with the airlines was immediately dispatched to her home address; he reported back that the house was dark and no one seemed to be at home. Nor, the Supervisor discovered, was there any answer on the telephone. The airlines couldn't prove she was inebriated, but she couldn't prove she was at home. (The latter would have been an impossibility because Janelee was shacked up at Lake Mead with four energetic fishermen who kept her liberally supplied with booze and sex.) WIA promptly gave their "sick" hostess 20 days off, without pay, to recuperate. Further, Janelee was placed on strict probation. Any more missed flights, any infraction of any rule, any complaint no matter how trivial, would mean loss of her wings.

Together under the same roof for a prolonged period, Gina and Janelee quarreled.

On the day before Janelee was to return to duty, she went into Beverly Hills to do some shopping. When she returned, a livid and almost incoherent Gina met her at the front door.

"You stupid... stupid lush," Gina screamed at the bewildered girl.

"Gina! What's gotten into you? I haven't been drinking." And she hadn't. Not for four days.

"Oh... oh, you god-damned fool! You insane, demented, stupid, shit-headed fool! How could you? What, in God's name, possessed you to get involved with that... that pimply-faced loudmouthed pool boy and his fat moronic friend? Why them?"

"Gina! I don't know what you're talking about."

The brunette looked as if she didn't believe the younger girl." Why would he say what he did then?" she demanded.

"What'd he say?"

"He said that he knew the two of us were a couple of high-priced whores, and that you had 'been nice' to him and his buddy a month ago. And that if I didn't want the police to be tipped off about our operation, I'd better be nice to him, too. Oh ...," she gritted her teeth and shook her clenched hands as if wanting to throttle someone, "... that insufferable little son of a bitch. I'd like to castrate him!"

"Gina. Look. I swear I...."

"Oh, for Christ's sake, Janelee," she screamed." Don't make excuses! You were so smashed there for a couple of months that you don't have the slightest idea of what you did or didn't do. So don't go swearing to anything."

Janelee had never seen the other girl so violently angry, and - when she thought about it - there was cause for her distress. Gina had been able to operate successfully for over five years because she had always been circumspect; not once had she ever been involved with a male whose identity she wasn't sure of - whose silence she couldn't count on. She trusted her men; they, in turn, trusted her. Now, with the threat of blackmail hanging over their heads, the entire operation could be shot down. All it would take would be one anonymous telephone call to the Vice Squad, and their house would be staked out until an arrest was made - even if it took weeks of surveillance.

"What are we going to do?" Janelee asked finally in a small voice that couldn't hide the confusion or concern.

Gina took a deep shuddering breath and closed her eyes. She opened them again and threw back her head in sudden decision." Well, I don't know what you're going to do, Janelee, but I'm bailing out. I mean it. I'm going to put the house up for sale and get out of here. It isn't safe any longer - not safe from the police, and not safe from the bar-room friends of that loud mouthed kid. I guess I'll ask for a transfer. New York, maybe. London. I don't know where, but I'm not staying here any longer. I've run the string out. Maybe I'll even settle down and marry someone."

The words cut into Janelee's mind like the stinging tentacles of a Portuguese Man O' War. It was the end. She, herself, had caused it all to end. Somehow she had thought it would never end. The house she loved so much, the view - the perspective of eagles - the pool, the tub. She was going to lose it all. She blinked back tears, knowing the futility of praying that something would happen to make everything all right again. She knew instinctively that Gina was right. The string had been run out; their safety had evaporated during one alcoholic-clouded afternoon. And it had been Janelee who had done it.

The next morning, Janelee flew to London - and from London to Athens - to Cairo - to Lisbon - back to London again. She didn't have a single drink during the entire time. It was eight days before she returned to the house. Packing crates were scattered throughout the living room. The paintings had been taken down. Alcides was gone; the love birds gone.

There was a note from Gina on the bedspread:

Dear Janelee:

Don't be alarmed if you see two men in a gray Impala watching the house; I think they are policemen!!! The movers will be here on Friday; they know what to do. The house is on the market. I'm pricing it for a quick sale... and leaving the major items of furniture behind. If there is anything you want in the way of furniture, don't hesitate to take it.

I suppose you had better start looking for other quarters. Sorry. I'll write when I get settled - when I know where I'm going to be.

Goodbye, G.

Janelee had no desire to stay there any longer. Something had gone out of the house; she could feel it by its absence. Vacant houses always have that feeling; there had been that feeling about Uncle Matt's house when Janelee had stayed there after his funeral. She found it hard to believe that had been less than two years ago.

So much had happened... so very much; she had come so far, had flown so high.

Quickly then, fighting tears every minute of the time, she packed all her belongings into five separate suitcases which she put into the well and front seat of her XKE.

She started the car and drove up and out the driveway, and down the winding canyon road. Once, near the main highway, she had looked up the hill and had seen the house - standing on the lip of the hill - the setting sun reflected in the huge front room windows like a ball of fire. She stopped the car and stayed a minute or so just staring at it. Then the sun disappeared from the windows, and the night began to creep into the gullies of the canyon. She wanted to say something to the house - even though the idea was foolish. But what could one possibly say to a house? It was a stupid thought. Her eyes misted over as she released the clutch and the XKE began moving again. The house was lost to her sight. She saw it only once more - just a momentary flash of it - when she turned off the canyon road onto busy Sunset Boulevard. The house had been up there in a cluster of others on the side of the hill, and with the coming of night it had looked as though it were an eagle's nest.

Janelee checked into a really swinging motel on Sunset. That night, for the first time in over ten days, she had a drink... followed by a second, and a third, and a fourth.

When she regained some semblance of sobriety in a negro jazz musician's room three days later, she realized she had missed her flight. Frightened now, with her. - heart pounding in panic, she took a drink to steady her nerve, then telephoned W.I.A.

The cold impersonal voice cut her short." There is no need to go into detail, Miss Morrison. Just tell us where to send your final check. You were terminated yesterday afternoon."

And despair - like a black and suffocating shroud of the dead - closed in about her.

EPILOGUE

The fat woman swayed drunkenly on her bar stool. The little Philippino sitting alongside watched her with concern. She had five dollars of his money; he did not want her to pass out before he got his money's worth back at her hotel room.

Actually, he thought in resignation, if it had been lighter outside he would not have been interested in the first place. She had been standing there in the rain, huddled up in her coat. Out there, where the light was not so good, she had not looked so bad. Too, there had been something about her voice that made him agree to her price. Then, after obtaining his money, she had insisted on a drink first. They were on her fourth, his second now.

The woman had a scar running down one side of the face; it looked to the Philippino's experienced eye more like a broken bottle cut than a razor or knife... but, still, sometimes women's skin fooled a person.

Concealing his boredom and impatience, he had listened to her prattle on and on as the booze worked on her. She had said that she was once three years ago a very famous person - had once lived atop the highest hill in Hollywood... in a mansion - had once owned a fine English car, the most expensive clothes, and a big bank account. Lies, all lies, he thought; the drunken lies of a whore. No one ever having any of these things ever lost them. He knew beyond a doubt that the old saying was true: The rich get richer and the poor get poorer. That was the way the world was. If she had been rich, she still would be rich. Besides, he could not conceive of a rich woman looking like this one. She limped; there was something wrong with her left leg, it dragged the ground as though the knee cap was gone. Rich people did not walk like that. And those three missing front teeth - rich people always bought new teeth to hide those knocked out - if, indeed, rich people ever had teeth knocked out.

Finally, by pulling and threatening, he got the whore off the stool and out into the night. At the hotel room, he realized that it had not been worth it after all. When she took off her dirty shapeless dress, she was gross beneath; and her fat skin - like that of a bloated dead fish's belly - repulsed him. When he demanded his money back, she began screaming at him... and there was pounding on the wall from the room next door. When she continued to shout and yell and drunkenly curse at him, he was forced to hit her to silence her. She fell and on the way down slammed her head against the iron bed frame. The whore lay there gasping like a fish out of water, a thin stream of blood oozing from her nose.

Her purse contained the five one-dollar bills he had given her earlier, as well as one streetcar token, one dime, and three pennies. There was also a badly torn, much folded and faded identification card from an airline. On the face of the card was a photograph of a breathtakingly beautiful girl... perhaps the whore's daughter, he thought. He glanced again at the woman on the floor; there was a resemblance at that. It must be her daughter. And because he felt sorry for her - sorry that she had a beautiful daughter who was so unfeeling as to make her mother live in a run-down hotel like this - the little Philippino carefully folded three of the dollar bills and replaced them in her purse. After a moment's thought, he put the other two back in also.

He looked down in pity at the fat ugly whore and pulled a thread-bare cover over the dirty and much soiled mattress. He covered her, then slipped a pillow without a pillowcase beneath her head." Buenos noches," he said." Sleep now. Keep the dinero."

On the floor, Janelee moaned drunkenly, then slept.

Once, just before a cold and uninviting dawn, she dreamed she was an eagle soaring high over the countryside toward a magic mountain called home.

THE END
The Spread Eagles ....(123k)    by Michael Jaeggers





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