enovel In Between Arlene Y.R. Uhere [Future Story Codes]

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In Between Arlene ....(72k)    by Y.R. Uhere

CHAPTER ONE

Arlene stood at the curb, looked at her old car and wondered how many miles the poor old thing had left in it. Sometimes it started and sometimes it didn't. Like playing a game of chance each time she got in it. Lately the odds had turned against her, as a matter of fact.

There was a time when a teacher was expected to drive a new car every year. A respected profession. Hal Not today. Fulltime babysitter was more like it, at odds with both parents and the Board of Education most of the time. And the rest of the time trying to keep one's sanity in a classroom that was nothing short of a riot. She had sighed with enormous relief when school let out for summer vacation, and she was free to return here to her hometown. She was respected here-but not because of her profession as a teacher. Respected (and watched carefully, unfortunately) because she was the daughter of the man who had been the beloved town doctor until his death, a few years before.

Arlene had had enough of the threatened teachers' strike and the demanding parents, and had decided to forget the mad, mad outside world of 1980 and settle down to the nice simple job of selling real estate back here in the town she had grown up in. She shook her black curls and puckered her soft lips. Real estate hadn't turned out to be all that simple either.

At first it had been exciting and rewarding, and in her first few weeks she had actually talked a few people into selling their houses and moving to another section of town. But the last few days had been total strikeouts.

She got in the car and held her breath as the old Detroit gas-guzzler coughed to a start, possibly its last.

Arlene eased the green coupe into the parking lot behind the company office and slid her compact five-feet-two body from under the steering wheel. Every inch of her, from freckled, tip-tilt nose to clicking heels, showed the mounting anger as she went into the office to face Mr. Tanner with the report of her sudden failure. For a moment she was tempted to resign without explanation, as she had done with the school board, but for once curiosity held her proud temper in control. She had failed again, and this time she would admit it and take the consequences. But first she had to find out why.

Mr. Tanner looked up as she came in. One glance at the stormy tilt to her chin and he whistled. "Hey!" he said. "Lookit the Irish bombshell. What gives?"

She tossed the sheaf of prospect cards down on his desk, her close-cropped black curls fairly bouncing with the force of her leashed anger. "What gives?" she tossed back at him. "Nobody's selling, that's what. Nobody. I get the door slammed in my face. I've never been treated like that in all my life. You tell me what gives. What's wrong?"

For a moment he didn't answer. He sat fiddling with a pencil, his sharp brown eyes squinting at it as if sighting along a gun barrel. At last he tossed it aside and shrugged his shoulders.

"Cat out of the bag, huh? Well, ain't nobody expecting it to keep forever. I guess."

"What do you mean?"

He looked at her quizzically. "Don't tell me you didn't guess what you were hired for. Why we wanted honest Dr. Moran's daughter for a front."

Arlene stared at him. For a front! The words had a sinister tone. "What do you mean?" she asked again, cold fear reaching out at her.

Mr. Tanner looked her up and down. "You really didn't know?" He shook his head. "So they gave me a baby doll to take candy from the other kids. Sorry, Arlene, but we all got to face life sometime when there ain't no roses in the picture, no soft lights and music."

"What do you mean?"

Tanner shrugged. "No skin off my nose, but here it is. And remember, Realty is small fry, the Syndicate behind it is big business. I mean big. And in Big Business, craftiness is the best policy, not honesty, no matter what you learned in school. If you don't get the gravy, someone else will. So it's this way... " Arlene listened without interrupting, letting the facts pile up while she condemned herself for not seeing the truth before. And yet how could she have seen? The Eastside Realty was nothing but a cat's paw for the syndicate behind it, the syndicate that had found out through far-reaching political channels that the new state highway route had been secretly changed and would now go straight through Forsburg's West End, doubling or tripling the value of all property along its right-of-way. Anyone who still owned land in the West End could now sell at unthought-of prices.

Bitterly Arlene tallied the score of what might have been-except for her own eager persuasion. Those people she had talked into selling-who had moved out because she advised it. No wonder doors had been slammed in her face today. They had lost the chance of a lifetime, not only for money, but for the health and happiness money could buy.

"Well, that's the story," Tanner finished. There was something defiant in his tone, and yet something beaten, too.

"All right," Arlene said, holding her voice expressionless to keep the boiling anger from spilling out in useless tirade. She went over to her desk and began sorting out her personal belongings from the office records. "I'm through, of course," she tossed over her shoulder.

Tanner cleared his throat. "Er-uh, well, I was going to say I'm moving to a new company in Paynesville soon. Want to come along? You won't have the value of family background you've used here, but you've still got an honest face and-"

"And I mean to keep it!" Arlene whirled stormily, but the man was not looking at her. He was fishing in the drawer for his checkbook, and as he found it he said complacently, "Don't get nasty. I'll make it out for an extra week's pay. That'll soften any shock you've had."

"No, thanks. I'll take what I've earned and no more. You can keep your- your-hush money!"

"Okay. Have it your way."

"Thanks." She scooped up the piled assortment of lipsticks, powder, and handkerchiefs into her purse, tossed the oddments into the wastebasket, pocketed the check that cleared her through the day, and walked out, shutting the office door firmly. If she could only keep her control till she got home! But she must. At least she could thank her lucky stars that she had a home to go to-her own four walls where she could shut the door and there would be no prying eyes to see...

Arlene swung the coupe into the familiar driveway and braked to a stop beside the squarely jutting wing that had once been Dr. Moran's office and was now her own living quarters. When she had sold the rambling old Moran home to the Kearney family after her father's death, she had asked that the office be hers to rent as long as she wished. Since the Kearneys had been family friends of long standing, agreement had been given heartily, and in addition, Arlene found herself welcomed into the Kearney household almost as a daughter to Pa and Ma Kearney, a sister to Martha and lively young Terry.

Arlene shut the door behind her, tossed her purse down on the studio couch, and went at once to the desk. Before she did anything else she had to get herself straight with the people she had unwittingly cheated. She couldn't give them back their money or their property, but at least she could say she was sorry. With a determined look on her face, she began to write. The words didn't come easily, and there were many scratched lines and blotted words before at last she had worked out what she had to say and was ready to make her final copies.

They were done at last. She stretched wearily and got to her feet. On the desk beside her lay the pile of sealed envelopes, each one addressed to a family who had sold out to the realty company at her suggestion. Perhaps the letters wouldn't mean much, but she had to write them-to say that she was sorry, that she had acted in good faith, and that from now on she would work for the good of others. It was not enough-it did not repay their loss-but it was the best she could do.

Arlene glanced at her watch. The post office was still open. She pressed the last stamp into its corner, scooped up the pile, and headed for the green coupe. With one hand on the car door, she suddenly changed her mind. Nothing like a good brisk walk to settle your nerves, her father had frequently said. She strode down the driveway with purposeful steps, and by the time she was back again her head had cleared and she was as hungry as she had ever been in her life.

When the little kitchenette was tidy again, Arlene made ready for bed. She had promised herself to try to sleep, but she could not help mulling over the day's changes. It was as if a sly fate had stuck out a finger and brought her blocks tumbling down. Worse, because she couldn't even pick up the blocks and start over. She was glad that she had refused the extra money from Tanner, but where was her next paycheck coming from? The money her father had left her had barely paid college expenses, even after the house money had been added. Her bank balance showed a little more than the five-hundred-dollar emergency fund she had promised her father to keep untouched as long as she could. She could sell her car, of course, but what would a well-used third-hand Ford bring? Not much. No, she had to find a job.

And not just any job. She had promised all those people to work for others-and she meant it. That meant teaching-the career she had once chosen for herself with such high purpose, such great hopes. Looking back now she could see that it had been more than foolish to resign from Blairstown before she even knew whether they would ask her to return. It was she herself who had branded her work a failure, given herself no second chance. She realized now that all the frustration of the past year had piled up within her because she tried, in vain, to teach "just like Miss Winkler"-the beloved first-grade teacher who had reigned forty years in Blairstown. She had tried to emulate her in every detail-and had been thoroughly miserable in the trying. Never again. In her next school she would be herself.

But where would that school be? Now, in mid-August, teaching staffs were chosen. No use asking here in Forsburg after her unsavory alliance with Eastside Realty, even if there were an opening. No time to write letters, hit or miss, on the chance that there would be some last-minute vacancy. Only an agency would have any sort of listings now.

An agency, of course! The university's teacher-placement bureau. She had written them that she was no longer interested in teaching, but if she went herself and explained, surely they would understand.

The decision was satisfying enough to bring relief from the tormenting worries, and at last Arlene slept.

CHAPTER TWO

Her coupe licked up the miles on its best behavior, and by half past nine Arlene was parking in the familiar cinder-covered lot behind the university's red-brick Education Building. Already the August heat was beginning to close in. It was lucky she'd traveled in the cool of the morning, or by now she would have been too wilted to make a decent appearance. And with Mr. Elkhart, director of the placement bureau, appearance had always counted a great deal. In the peasant-print nylon sheer with its white smocking and white crocheted buttons she still looked fresh and neat. A quick run-through with the comb arranged the short, dark curls, a touch of lipstick, and she was ready.

In the office she gave her name to the clerk, asked for an interview, and sat with her record folder in hand till a buzz from the inner office signaled that Mr. Elkhart would see her.

"Well, Miss Moran," he greeted her. "What can we do for you today?" And then to show that he remembered more than her name he added, "Been collecting any more swimming cups or tennis trophies?"

"No, sir," Arlene answered. "And I haven't collected a good job, either. That's why I'm here."

"Hmm," he said, glancing over her folder as he motioned her to be seated. "Let's see. You had one year of teaching first grade at Blairstown. Definitely decided you did not want to teach. Hmm. Change your mind?"

"Yes, sir," Arlene said, and as clearly as possible she told the story of her year of trying to be "just like Miss Winkler" and her reasons for leaving the Eastside Realty Company. "But I'm not returning to teaching because I haven't anywhere else to go," she assured him. "I want to teach. I was thinking last night how much some of my teachers meant to me, and I'd like to try to mean as much to the children who come to my classes. And I know I'll do a better job of it this time."

"Hmm," was all the director said. He sat for a minute, lips between thumb and forefinger. Then his eyebrows went up as if a sudden thought had sparked.

"You had some Spanish, didn't you?" he asked abruptly.

Arlene nodded, puzzled. "Yes, two semesters. But not enough to teach it. My certificate is for primary-" He waved her explanation aside. "I know, I know. Wait a minute." He was ruffling through a pile of papers on the desk, and now, with a pleased expression, he drew out a sheet with an embossed letterhead.

"Hmm, yes," said Mr. Elkhart, half to himself. "I thought that was it." He turned to Arlene in explanation. "Had to reread it. Just came in this morning." Then, raising his eyebrows, he asked, "Want to go to South America?"

Arlene gasped. "South America!"

Elkhart nodded. "Peru, to be more exact. Place called Tambomina. Leave immediately. Small school. In fact, the smallest I've ever heard of. Two pupils. But you might have three or four before the contract is up. Nothing over sixth grade. Is your heart good?"

"My heart?" Arlene repeated in amazement. The director's rapid-fire information had come too fast for her to take it all in, but she managed to answer before he could repeat the question. "My heart is fine, but I can't teach Spanish-"

"You won't need to. These children are Americans. I mean North Americans, from the States. Their father, Jim Bradley" -he tapped the letter to indicate that it was Mr. Bradley who had written it-"their father is general manager of a States-owned mining company. Old classmate of mine. Capital fellow. Smart. He's making a name for himself down there. He wants Stateside schooling for his children without having to send them home for it, and what he wants he'll pay for. You'll have all the books and equipment you want. The only question is, can you take living in the high altitude? Ever been in the mountains?"

"No, I-"

"It doesn't matter, the Peruvian Andes are higher than any of our mountain country, anyhow. Tambomina is thirteen thousand feet above sea level, and there are, camps even higher. You'll have to pass a stiff physical examination before they'll even consider you. Here's their application blank. Take it over to the clinic and ask them to check you before we go any further."

Arlene looked at the extended blank, but she did not take it from his hand.

"South America would be wonderful, Mr. Elkhart," she said slowly, "but I don't think it's the job for me. I told you I'd promised to do work that counted for something. This sort of being governess to some rich children doesn't seem to fit. I'd thought more of teaching in some poor district-where I'm really needed."

He nodded. "These Bradley twins are eight years old. They've never been to school in their lives, although their mother has taught them what she can. Evidently she hasn't made much progress. They've never been in a classroom, never worked with other children. They need good American teaching. Their Dad is afraid the States will seem like a foreign country to them when they do come back here to live. I'll have trouble finding another teacher who fills the bill as well as you do-and who is free to go off to Peru. No family responsibilities holding them here."

He paused, looking at her closely for signs of a change of mind. "You'll have equal difficulty finding the special kind of work you want this late in the summer," he reminded her. "Won't you reconsider?"

Arlene, after a moment's thought, said that she would. She left the building and went for a walk. After a while the shock of being asked to go so far away wore off and she began to view this opportunity as an adventure. The more she thought about it, the more excited she became. Finally, she decided to take the plunge. She headed back to the director's office and told him the news.

"Wonderful, Miss Moran!" he exclaimed, evidently believing she had made the best decision. "I'll make all the arrangements. Soon you'll be on your way!"

Arlene went home breathless with anticipation. The house was deserted so she had to keep the news to herself for a while. Then she heard the sound of a car outside and Kevin Hogan, a young teacher she used to work with, entered the house.

When Arlene gave him the news, his expression became one of sorrow. "I hate to see you go," he said quietly. "I'll miss you a lot."

"I know what you mean," Arlene replied. "Maybe we should have our fun right now... one last time."

The beautiful girl pressed against him. Her body began to tremble with desire as she mashed her quivering breasts into his muscular chest. She felt her nipples slowly stiffen and expand at the contact. The fire in her loins was increasing moment by moment. She slipped out of her shoes and stood on her toes so as to rub her moistening mound against the expanding bulge in Kevin's pants.

"Mmmmm... Arlene," he moaned. Hitching up her skirt, the brunette hopped up and wrapped her legs around his hips, remembering through a red mist of burning desire how they had done it before. She gyrated up and down, back and forth against his straining manhood with her wet groin soaking through her panties.

"Arlene, stop! I... " Kevin breathed hoarsely, his lust-maddened eyes staring at the nearly swooning woman hanging from his waist. "It's been so long since we... since I... "

"Yes, I understand," Arlene replied, climbing down. "I want to make sure... you come in me!"

The virile teacher stepped back and began to disrobe. Arlene watched with mounting excitement as more and more of his handsome body came into view. Then, as he stepped out of his briefs and stood naked before her rapt gaze, she gasped with uninhibited delight at the firmness of his body and the rhythmic jumping of his long phallus.

"Oh, Kevin... oh, honey!" Arlene ran her hands provocatively down her flanks, her body shuddering uncontrollably. "I want it in me! I want your cock!"

"Yes, Arlene, yes!" Kevin shouted. "Take your clothes off... now! I can't wait!"

Without wasting a second, Arlene threw off her blouse to display her heaving bosom. She took one tit in each hand and pumped her nipples to even greater stiffness. Then she jumped out of her skirt and saturated panties, exposing her wet, hairy mound and steaming, pink-lipped vagina to his ravenous gaze. She picked up her clothes and wantonly tossed them aside.

"Now, let me... " she began.

But before the young girl could turn around, Kevin was behind her, his thighs pressing her knees against the couch, his burning hands coming around to enclose her swollen breasts, squeezing and kneading the flesh in quick, passionate convulsions.

"Yeah, Kevin!" Arlene cried. "You know how I like my titties squeezed!"

He breathed in her ear as his tongue traced little circles along her smooth white neck. Arlene gasped when she felt the teacher's throbbing rod thrusting menacingly between her slightly parted thighs.

"God, Arlene, I don't know what it is about you," Kevin grunted in her ear, sucking on a lobe. "You turn me into an animal! A fucking beast!"

"Ooooohhh... " Arlene said by way of reply as she quivered with need.

With an assist from the brunette's spreading thighs, the trembling man forced his long, pulsing penis forward until it came into contact with the gyrating slit of her twat. Moaning, Arlene spread her legs even wider to expose more of her pink, drooling meat to the caress of the purple-tipped pole.

"Uuunnghgh! I love it!" she cooed.

Maddeningly, Kevin traced the outline of her love chasm, once... twice... each time inserting the head of his jerking tool into the steaming hole, only to withdraw it and press it to her clenched anus. This was driving Arlene insane, but she loved it and played along.

"Don't forget my tits, Kevin," the girl whimpered. "Squeeze my big jugs!"

"How could I forget?" the teacher groaned.

Kevin's hands once again grasped the two creamy mounds of jiggling tit-flesh. He hefted them up, felt their weight and texture, then let them drop. He squeezed them as hard as he could, moving his clenched hands in agonizingly pleasurable circles. Then he lifted them up once more, only this time by the nipples. Arlene nearly passed out with desire: she liked nothing better than a tit-man who knew what he was doing.

"Oh Kevin, you're doing it to me!" she squealed in ecstasy.

Satisfied with the handsome teacher's manipulation of her heavy knockers, Arlene threw her palms down on the back of the couch and braced herself so she could shove her steaming pussy back and forth along the length of his thrusting, purple-veined prick. His rock-hard nuts rubbed against her smooth ass cheeks.

"Arlene... oh baby... oh you're great," Kevin moaned deliriously.

Hanging her head down, Arlene watched the carnal activities taking place, Kevin's cockhead repeatedly popping through her white thighs like a cuckoo clock signalling the midnight hour. Her watering mouth yearned to consume Kevin's pounding jack-hammer, but the urges of her swollen, fibrillating twat outweighed all other considerations.

"Stick it in, Kevin!" the frisky brunette screamed. "God damn it... fuck me!"

"No! Not yet!" the handsome man cried hoarsely. "If I do... I'll come in a second. I want to make this... uuunnhh... last!"

"Oh God... your finger then!" Arlene wailed. "Put your finger in my cunt! And in my asshole! My... ohhh... asshole, too!"

Freeing one hand to attack the young girl's nether regions, Kevin slowly moved his fingers down her back, tracing little circles as he descended. Reaching the crack of her ass, he rubbed downward, rimming her clutching asshole with his finger. Arlene spasmed several times and groaned with need. He left her asshole for the moment, though, and proceeded to her pussy slit.

"How do you like this?" he breathed.

"Jesus... I love it!" the brunette replied, her voice shrill.

Kevin took the girl's entire drenched mound in his hand and squeezed vigorously several times, forcing Arlene's clit between her cunt lips. She spasmed again, and again, little tiny orgasms signalling the fireworks to come. Next, he moved his thumb and forefinger up along her slit, looking for her pleasure bud.

"Help me find it, honey," he breathed huskily in her ear.

Impatiently, the flushed brunette pulled upward on her hairy box, freeing the tiny button from its hood and exposing it to Kevin's clutching fingers. Arlene screamed with delirious pleasure as Kevin grasped her clit between thumb and forefinger and gently tugged. Then, in a surprise attack, he rapidly inserted two long fingers into her fuck channel and started shaking them rapidly.

"Like this, huh?" the teacher roared. "Holyshit... yes!"

This was totally new to the lust-crazed girl and her body went out of control. She began to babble incoherently for a few moments, the perspiration streaming down her face in salty rivulets. Kevin licked it off.

"Oh my God... oh Jesus... what are you doing to me?" the brunette moaned. "Ahhh... this is too much... I'm going to explode!"

But Kevin had other ideas. Cruelly, he withdrew his glistening digits from her slobbering snatch and lubricated the tiny ring of her rear channel. Slowly he inserted first one finger... then two... ramming them in and out with increasing speed.

"Uuuunnghgh! Oh shit, oh fuck!" Arlene howled at the top of her lungs. "Yeah... ream my asshole!"

With that last exclamation the young girl heaved her ass backward, swallowing Kevin's rampaging fingers until they disappeared completely up her wet hole. Moaning, she ground her butt against his knuckles, standing up on her toes to achieve the maximum amount of friction. Kevin made little "come hither" movements with his fingers in her hole, hooking and unhooking them, as though beckoning her to come and come from inside.

"Oh God, oh God, oh! Oh! Oh!" Arlene yelped. "You're killing me... don't stop!"

Arlene was beside herself now, her pretty head tossing wildly from side to side, her eyes rolling, unseeing, her mind on fire, not caring about anything except the dashing of her senses.

Then, to her intense disappointment, she felt the handsome teacher withdraw his fingers from her rear passageway.

"What are you doing?" she whimpered. "Please, please don't stop!"

"Don't worry," Kevin whispered.

He wasn't stopping-just changing instruments. To her horror, Arlene felt his huge tool leave her pussy lips and slide up toward that sensitive area where his fingers had so recently ravaged. His fingers were one thing... but that big dick in her ass?

"Oh no... I can't take it all in!" the frantic brunette protested. "It'll rip me to shreds! We... you never fucked my ass before!"

"There's a first time for everything!" Kevin bellowed.

"I... oh shit... I want you to," Arlene wavered. Then her intense feminine need convinced her she wanted his pecker very badly. "Yes! Stick it in my ass, Kevin!" the girl demanded. "I can't wait! Fuck my asshole... now!"

Arlene hitched up her hips, pushed herself forward, spread her arms and crushed her swollen boobs onto the top of the couch. Her long legs were up off the floor, splayed out into the air. Grabbing hold of each one, Kevin spread them wide like a pair of scissors.

"Are you ready, bitch?" he shouted. "You better be, because here it comes!"

The teacher's shaking, sweat-soaked hands slid forward to grip Arlene's clenched white buttocks as he lined up his throbbing spear with her puckered target. He rubbed his long phallus along her damp crack.

"Oh fuck... don't make me wait!" wailed the helpless girl. "Shove it in!"

Kevin readily complied. His strong hands dug into the creamy ass flesh and separated the quivering cheeks as his thick prong hesitated for a moment. Then, slowly, he began to drive it into the tiny orifice. Arlene shuddered at the contact as shock waves of pleasure radiated from her asshole. As much as possible she propped her ass up to receive every inch of his thick prod. She clawed at the couch, her hips writhing and squirming against his invading prick, her muscles contracting around it like a clutching hand. Suddenly the enraged teacher lunged forward, shoving another six inches of red meat into her rear end.

"Christ, Arlene!" Kevin screamed. "I'm going to fuck you like a dog!"

"Do it... oooowwweeeee!" the lusty brunette squealed. "I'm your bitch... fuck me... Fuck me!"

The rampaging teacher heaved in the rest of his pounding pork until Arlene could feel his hairy balls crushed against her damp orbs. The violation she had felt at first instantly gave way to intense, mind-blowing pleasure as Kevin ground his inflamed pecker in and out, faster and faster, impaling her against the couch.

"Arlene... ahhh... I'm going to... " the lust-maddened teacher howled.

"Not yet! Oh shit!" Arlene retorted. "Keep humping... mmmeeeee!"

The young girl had never felt so filled with prick before! She yelped obscenities, gyrating her churning ass up and down in a frenzy of lust to match the thrusts of Kevin's fiery skewer.

"Go, Kevin, go!" she shrieked. "Pile all of that pork into my hole!"

The hysterical ass-fucker grabbed Arlene's brown hair, tugging her head in every direction as he increased the force and tempo of his insane plunging. He realized there was no stopping the delivery of his powerful payload. He passed the point of no return when he heard the frantic mewlings indicating Arlene's approaching climax.

"Ohhhhh... that's it... right there... what a prick... Oh God, don't stop fucking me... Fuck my asshole!"

Suddenly, Kevin heaved against her, crushing her against the couch with the full force of his weight, screaming like a banshee in her ear.

"SHIT! Oh shit! I can't hold... oh my Lord... here I... Aaaarrrrggggg!" The teacher felt his cock expand to unbelievable proportions as he blew his load. Arlene felt it jerk inside her as it spewed forth wad after wad of boiling jism. Her asshole overflowed with the hot, sticky liquid. It ran out of her orifice and down the insides of her thighs, smearing Kevin's draining nuts.

Arlene was beyond control now. The exploding prick set off a chain reaction as her orgasm began and rapidly progressed to a fiery peak of dynamic intensity.

"I'm coming... oh God... commmmmiiinnnggg!" The young girl screamed, humping wildly and frantically clawing at the couch, her back arched, her tits bouncing and flailing wildly in every direction.

Kevin roared again and his cock continued to shoot hot cascades of white-hot cum like a roman candle as the foundations of Arlene's being shook with her shrieking orgasm. Even when the teacher's long prick began to subside, Arlene continued to hump her ass, sucking in every inch of spewing rod with her hungry, clenched anus. It seemed like hours passed before Arlene's convulsions began to slow and her wild climax ran its course.

Kevin spread the brunette's sweating buttocks and slowly withdrew his limp member. With a moan of satisfaction, the lovers collapsed onto the couch.

"That's the way to say goodbye," Arlene crooned, smiling contentedly.

CHAPTER THREE

Early breakfast on the diner, and Arlene was ready minutes before her train pulled into the station. She took a cab to the hotel where the American-Peruvian Exploration Company had made a reservation for her, bathed leisurely, and changed from the long-sleeved navy-blue suit to a cool sheer more comfortable in New York's September heat. When at last she was ready, she phoned the office, asking for Miss Gardner, who had signed all the letters.

Miss Gardner's voice was crisp but cordial. "Can you come down to the office right away?" she asked, and Arlene agreed, feeling very businesslike and efficient. So far, at least, she was off to a good start.

At the American-Peruvian office she found that Miss Gardner was as efficient as her voice had sounded over the phone. She had Arlene's tickets ready with a detailed letter of instructions and also a Spanish-English phrase book that would help her meet any difficulties in the event that the American-Peruvian representative in Lima was not able to meet her plane.

"You won't have any trouble getting to the Hotel Bolivar," Miss Gardner added. "Many people in Lima speak perfect English. Foreigners put us to shame on that score."

"I had a little Spanish in college," Arlene offered, but the woman's eyebrows made a disparaging comment on just how little that probably was worth, and Arlene said no more.

"Our Mr. Graves wants to talk with you," Miss Gardner continued. "He's usually in our Lima office, but right now he happens to be in New York, and you might as well meet him. Come along."

Obediently, Arlene followed the woman down the hall to a carpeted foyer. The lettering on the paneled door read: A. H. Graves, Chairman of the Board.

Miss Gardner knocked, and a voice called, "Come in."

A very young voice, Arlene noted in surprise. A young, forceful voice that sounded as if it were more used to snapping out football signals than making pronouncements from a board meeting. Then she had no more time to speculate, for Miss Gardner was opening the door and announcing briskly, "Miss Arlene Moran, Mr. Graves. The teacher for Tambomina."

Then the door closed behind her, and Arlene was alone with one of the most attractive men she had ever met in her whole life. Tall-very tall. And broad-shouldered. He rose from the desk and came to meet her with hand outstretched. Gray eyes, brown hair, with just a slight wave to it. Deep suntan. Big hands. But a softer handshake than Arlene had anticipated. How could anyone so young get to be chairman of the board in such an important company? How had Mr. Tanner put it? "In Big Business, craftiness is the best policy." If that was true, then this young Mr. Graves must be the craftiest and smoothest operator Big Business had ever produced.

"How do you do?" she said with cold formality, withdrawing her hand.

Mr. Graves grinned, and looked even younger. "Hello, Miss Moran. Come and sit down. Don't be frightened by that sign on the door. That's my Dad. I'm just Junior. Tony to you, please. I've been trying to live down that Junior business all my life. Or live up to it, I guess I ought to say."

Arlene smiled, warming to instant friendship. "I know what you mean. I've been Dr. Moran's daughter all my life. Successful fathers are wonderful, but-" He grinned, and she did not need to finish. Arlene settled back in her chair with a perfectly at-ease feeling.

"I'm Public Relations," Tony went on. "That's not nearly as important as chairman of the board, but it's a lot of fun. and I'm on my own in Lima. At least as much as anyone named Graves Junior can be on his own in Am-Pex."

"Am-Pex?"

"The dear company's nickname." He swung around in the big chair and squinted up at the clock. "A bit early, but how's about lunch? I can brief you on the situation at Tambomina while we feed. Unless you're tied up?"

The words were a question, but he did not wait for an answer. He reached for his hat. "What do you say we try a little Spanish place I know? Get your tongue seasoned for some of the peppery hot sauces you'll meet in South America."

He clicked on the interoffice phone and relayed their plans to Miss Gardner, then held open the door.

"New York awaits your pleasure, senorita profesora," he said with another friendly grin as they stepped into the richly furnished foyer.

After their lunch together-which was as hot as Tony had promised-Tony brought her back to the office to meet his father. The senior Graves and his son did not look alike, Arlene decided as the introductions were being made. The chairman of the board looked the part. Heavy-jowled, white-haired, impeccably dressed. The important executive to his fingertips. Big Business personified, just as she had feared he would be. He ignored Tony as if he were no more than a piece of furniture and turned to Arlene with a heavy-browed glance.

"I understand you worked for Eastside Realty. That's one of the Terman Syndicate subsidiaries, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir." Arlene made her answer as brief as possible, but even so, he must have read more in the tone of her voice than she had intended to reveal, for his eyebrows went up.

"Didn't like your work?" he asked quickly.

Arlene flushed with embarrassment, but she stood her ground. "I liked it very much-till I found out they weren't honest. Then I quit. I won't work for any company that can be so unscrupulous."

The executive's eyebrows made another silent comment, and the concern on his face stung Arlene to a rushing explanation. But her very haste tripped her, and somehow the inept, hurrying words came out with the childish sound of schoolgirl tattling, even to Arlene's own ears. She glanced over at Tony for support, but the son obviously was not going to speak out in front of the father.

"My dear child," Mr. Graves said. "You don't understand that in business we sometimes have to employ methods outsiders don't comprehend. Mind you, I'm not saying that the Terman Syndicate is always right, though some of the men on the board are good friends of mine. But I do say that we have to reserve judgment till we know the facts."

"Yes, sir," Arlene said, since she could honestly agree with his last statement. From the corner of her eye she could see that Tony looked relieved.

Mr. Graves looked a little less stiff now, and his voice was almost friendly. "Don't mind saying we never meant to hire anyone quite so attractive as you, my dear. Or so young. Too dangerous."

Arlene started to be angry, and Tony, evidently encouraged by his father's jovial turn, spoke up soothingly. "What Dad means is-too dangerous you'll get married. Too many bachelors down there."

"Never kept an unmarried schoolteacher her full contract yet," affirmed Graves Senior.

"I'll stay my contract," Arlene said quietly. "I'm different."

"Humph! Hope so!" was the executive's comment. Then he waved toward his son. "I have work to do. Look after her, Tony. Perhaps you can manage to keep her from getting lost before plane time. Know when your plane leaves, young lady? Got all your papers?"

"Yes, sir. Miss Gardner told me everything to do."

"Humph! She's good at that. Tells me what to do, too, sometimes. Well, good luck, Miss Moran. And goodbye."

They shook hands, and Tony crossed to open the door.

"Oh," Graves Senior said, restraining Arlene with a hand on her shoulder. "One thing more. Don't be afraid of those miners down there. Mining men may act rough and tough-they've learned to take it the hard way-and they swear and gamble and drink-do a lot of things a nice young girl like you thinks are wrong. But underneath, those men have hearts of gold. Yes, sir. Nobody's more sentimental than a mining man if you can peek under that tough hide. Do anything in the world for you, if you treat them right. Don't look down on them. Most of them have college degrees. Some didn't get past high school. But they're all men. All wool and a yard wide, as my grandmother used to say. Understand me?"

Arlene knew he was speaking sincerely, giving her the best advice he knew. "I think so, Mr. Graves." She was glad to see that the old man was smiling when she left.

"You seem to have run the gauntlet of my father in good shape," Tony said, grinning.

"In many ways, I bet he's an old softy," Arlene said.

"In some ways," the businessman replied ruefully. Then he abruptly changed the subject. "We have to go a few floors down, Arlene. I want to introduce you to a few people you may have correspondence with."

He led her out to the hallway where they soon came to an elevator bank. An empty elevator came for them and they descended.

But not far. With a sudden grinding sound, the elevator stopped, almost knocking the two young people to the floor. Shaking his head and muttering something about modern technology, Tony used the emergency phone and spoke for a minute.

He turned to Arlene. "Some malfunction of the cable," he explained. "It will be a few minutes."

"Maybe this will teach me to use stairs again," the pretty brunette laughed.

With nothing functioning in the small compartment, the air inside soon became quite warm. They chatted amiably for a while, but since they were still strangers they soon fell into an awkward silence. Tony took several papers out of his jacket pocket and began to scan them.

It wasn't long before Arlene felt quite uncomfortable due to the increasing warmth. She tried to distract herself by glancing at the young businessman. She found him to be very handsome in a lean, muscular way. It made her wish she had met him sooner, and that there was time to become much better acquainted.

"This is no time for randy thoughts," the girl inwardly admonished herself. "Anyway, he doesn't seem to be the least bit interested in me."

She wished she had on a pair of shorts and a halter instead of uncomfortable business attire. Her legs, especially, were becoming hot and itchy under her stockings.

"Of course, the stockings!" she inwardly exclaimed. "There's nothing wrong if I remove them. Tony won't even notice, I bet."

Arlene stepped out of her shoes and reached up under her skirt. With a smooth, rippling sound she carefully drew the stockings down her long, supple legs. She felt a thrill of pleasure as the air touched her bare legs.

After stepping out of the stockings, she put her shoes back on. Then she noticed that her panties had been tugged partway down with the stockings, so she had to hitch her skirt up again as she snapped the garment back around her luscious hips.

"Ah, that's better," she sighed to herself. "And just as I thought, Tony didn't notice a thing."

Arlene couldn't have been more wrong. Tony was having a very difficult time reading because his eyes were threatening to pop out of their sockets.

"What a pair of legs!" he inwardly cried. "And she sure knows how to show them off!"

He felt an immediate ache in his groin when she had lifted her skirt to reveal her smooth, white thighs. He'd even caught the barest glimpse of her ass crack when she had replaced the tiny panties. Tony felt tiny surging sensations emanating from his crotch.

"Down boy!" he warned himself. "It would be embarrassing for this young, innocent girl to see my pecker standing at attention."

"Sure is getting hot in here," he said hoarsely.

"Oh, it's horrible," Arlene replied, glad for the conversation. "With this outfit, I might as well be wearing a fur coat."

"You should remove some of it," Tony suggested, his penis lurching in agreement.

"Well, if you don't mind "

"Certainly not!"

Arlene quickly took off her short vest, feeling her ample chest thrust out. It felt much better. She hung the vest up on the elevator's emergency phone.

"That's an improvement," she sighed.

"I'll say!" Tony's brain shouted as his prick advanced to its full length. "What a pair of knockers!"

Arlene's blouse had become nearly transparent from perspiration and it clung to her body. The view of her large, round jugs left little to the imagination. The two orbs protruding from her chest swung freely with the slightest movement, tipped by large, round cherries. Tony felt he couldn't keep standing there or the throbbing bulge of his crotch would be discovered.

"My legs are tired," he breathed. "Maybe I'll sit down."

"Oh, that suit will get dirty!" Arlene cried. Inwardly, she grinned mischievously. "You should take your pants off before sitting on the dirty floor. And the jacket, too."

"Wh-what?" Tony stammered.

"You really should. I'm going to sit down, and I have no intention of ruining my skirt."

So saying, Arlene casually unhooked her warm skirt and stepped out of it. With only her shoes, tiny panties and her thin blouse, she felt almost naked-and the feeling felt very nice.

The pretty brunette had noticed the increasing activity between the handsome businessman's legs. The bulge was now reaching epic proportions.

"Mmmmm... looks good enough to eat!" she inwardly mused. She was startled by her brazen thoughts and by the rush of moisture in her pussy. "It's nice to tease him, but now... I want more!"

"I guess that's a good idea, Arlene," Tony said, his voice cracking.

The handsome businessman turned away from the nearly naked young girl and with trembling hands removed his jacket, tie and then his pants. His legs shuddered from the pressure in his rock-hard nuts. He had been ready to shoot a load when she hopped out of her skirt! He felt his balls swelling with swirling jism with each passing second, and his rigid rod threatened to tear through the straining fabric of his underwear.

"I don't know if I can hold myself back!" he inwardly moaned. "Jesus, would I love to have my dick buried between those enormous tits!"

"You know, it feels even warmer now," he croaked.

"You should take your shirt off, too," Arlene suggested.

Intense waves of passion swept through the brunette's body as she watched Tony's fingers fumble with the shirt buttons. She didn't know what was happening to her-and she didn't care! Wetness began to seep rapidly out of her heating twat.

"I can't help my thoughts," Arlene whined to herself. "I want to... to suck him off! Look at the size of his wong. I want it between my lips!"

"Here, Tony, let me give you a hand," the young girl crooned.

Drooling with desire, Arlene advanced on the trembling businessman. She pushed his hands away and quickly unbuttoned his shirt. Then she pushed it off his shoulders and it fluttered to the floor. Suddenly, her swollen mounds heaved and her bullet-hard nipples brushed his bare chest. Slowly, she removed her blouse.

"Sorry, Tony. I... I can't hold myself back another second!"

Squatting slightly, Arlene gently rubbed her belly against the long staff protruding through Tony's underwear. She felt his legs quake as she rubbed her slender thighs against them.

"Ohhhh... Ahhhh... " Tony moaned, his eyes bulging as he gazed at her upraised melons.

Arlene wanted to hoist herself onto his rigid pork right away just as she had with Kevin. Her blazing pussy cried out for it, but she decided to wait until she was insane with lust.

"What a size," she cooed admiringly. "You don't mind if I lick it, do you?"

"Oh my God!" Tony yelped. The frisky brunette began to run her hands along the sides of the panting businessman's torso. Then, slowly sinking to the floor, she tongued the length of his chest and stomach. She bathed every inch, streaking his skin with glistening trails of saliva. "Make sure you don't come!" Arlene commanded. "Not until I want you to, anyway!"

With a quick tug she slipped off his underwear and kneeled before his outthrust, jerking phallus. Saliva dribbled down her chin. She caressed his hairy balls with her long fingers as Tony moaned in ecstasy. Then she took each sac and squeezed it. His hips jerked at the erotic action.

"Oh Arlene... oh baby," he wheezed.

Tiny droplets of pre-cum emanated from his rock-hard tip. Snaking out her tongue, she licked up the delicious fluid. The lusty brunette then continued to slowly, agonizingly jab at the throbbing tip with her tongue.

"Christ... you're driving me wild!" Tony howled. Grinning inwardly, the young girl thrust her lips onto his prick with a sudden sucking, swallowing motion that caused Tony to jerk spastically. His arms flailed the air until they latched on to Arlene's bobbing head.

"I can't stand it... oh shit!" he yowled.

Without any hesitation, Arlene squeezed his swollen nuts and pushed his burning prong past clenched lips and deep into her hungry mouth. She sucked and licked furiously, bringing her head back until only the purple tip was poised between her glistening lips. Mercilessly, she tortured his inflamed tip with tiny bites and a rapidly flicking wet tongue.

"Uuummm... this is nice!" she moaned to herself. "What a mouthful he is... I want to keep sucking and sucking!"

"Blow me, Arlene!" Tony screamed. "Eat up my huge tool and blow it!"

This she did without further ado. Her head began to piston back and forth as she repeatedly fed all of his flaming pud into her face until it banged up against the back of her throat. She loved the taste of excited manhood and she never wanted to stop sucking.

"Jeeeeesus! I'm going to... " Tony yelled. "Watch out... oh God!"

Feeling his dick expanding and pulsing uncontrollably within her feasting orifice, Arlene grabbed the young businessman's bucking hips and pistoned with a renewed frenzy. She sucked until her cheeks became inverted semicircles. Then, to her excited joy, she felt the first spurt of boiling cum splash against the roof of her mouth.

"Arlene... I... Aaaarrrrghghgh!" Tony shouted at the top of his lungs.

"Guuulllffff!" Arlene spluttered, her head shuddering from the force of his explosion.

She frantically tried to gulp down the onrushing river of white-hot jism. It filled up her mouth, flowed down her tender throat like a lava flow, and spilled out past her lips to dribble down her chin. With every ounce of strength she consumed man-juice until his pecker was totally drained.

"Ohhhh... " Tony moaned. "Arlene... I've never been blown like that before!"

The brunette smacked her lips with satisfaction. "I thought you were enjoying that," she laughed.

"I... wanted to fuck you... but I couldn't hold back!"

"Well, how about now?" Arlene stretched out on the floor and tugged her panties off.

The virile businessman couldn't believe it when he felt his cock reawakening. Thrills of renewed lust coursed through his body as he viewed the pretty girl's pink, glistening slit.

"Yeah, baby!" he cried. "Let's go! I'm going to fuck you like there's no tomorrow!"

"That's what I want!" Arlene squealed, lifting her hot pussy up toward him. "Stick it in now!"

She spread her legs wide, offering her throbbing twat to his potent spear. Suddenly, with a lurch the elevator moved and began to descend. The two lovers frantically grabbed for their clothes and hurriedly put them on.

"Damn it!" Arlene wailed. "I'm so horny... I sure need some prick in my pussy!"

Tony leered at her. "Let's go back to my office... and we'll take the stairs this time!"

Time passed quickly after her rendezvous with Tony, and before she knew it Arlene was on a jet to Lima. On it she met Arturo Montana y Gonzalez, a Peruvian who told her many stories about his country, but she was in a daze about her new adventure, and the trip was really just a blur. When it was over, all Arlene knew was she was in a hotel that a company man, Seflor Abancay, had brought her to here in Lima, Peru, a strange country. She tried to remember details, but fell into an exhausted sleep instead.

CHAPTER FOUR

When Seflor Abancay called at nine as he had promised, Arlene was ready in the lobby, her coat and scarf drawn close against the penetrating chill air. Even though it was not really cold, with the low fog blanketing the city, it was not hard to realize that September in Lima was as wintry as March at home.

In spite of Seflor Abancay's assurance, it did not seem to Arlene that they exactly sailed through all the formalities of fingerprinting and registering. But she was finished at last, including the exchange of some of her travelers' checks for Peruvian paper banknotes and a few of the round brass coins called "soles" and some smaller centavo pieces.

"Now for the Hill," Senor Abancay said, and then suddenly he clapped his hand to his pocket. "Oh, but I almost forgot. A little packet of seeds for Mrs. Bradley. The wife of the general manager, you know. She thinks much of her flowers, and on the Hill they grow only with difficulty."

He kept on talking as they left the office and took the elevator down to the street lobby, arriving just as the company station wagon pulled up to the door.

"This is Carlos," Abancay said, pointing to the dark-skinned Indian chauffeur. "A good driver. He will take care of you."

He added something to the driver in rapid Spanish as Arlene got into the rear seat. Just then she heard a voice calling her name, and she leaned to the window in surprise. Across the plaza came Arturo, hurrying with a huge bouquet of roses in his arms.

"The hotel-you'd left," he panted. "Almost missed you. Here-to remind you that Lima is the city of flowers-and that you must come back to us soon. You will remember?"

"I'll remember."

He gave Arlene's hand a farewell clasp. "Que vaya bien."

"Hasta luego, seflorita," Abancay said and signaled the driver to get under way. "Que vaya bien."

"Have a safe trip," Arturo interpreted, and added, "I'll be seeing you."

The car pulled away from the curb and into the stream of traffic, and Arlene settled herself to watch the Lima streets, looking up in admiration at the ancient carved wooden balconies that still marked the older sections of the city, but soon the car swung into a broad parkway with grass and flowered paths and statues of Indians and llamas and uniformed heroes. Then they turned into a wide business thoroughfare with hotels and offices and movie houses. Beyond lay the city's edge, the green of open country, then the barren, rocky foothills of the Andes, ragged and dust-colored. The farther inland they rode, the warmer it grew, till at last the ocean fog and chill were left behind. The sun poured down its warmth, and Arlene took off her scarf, unfastened her coat.

The road ahead became a twisting, winding curlicue snaking its way up, up. A river rushed along beside the road, forming white as it plunged over rocks, hurrying down to the sea. Overhead a large black bird soared to the wind, its wings spread wide.

"Carlos," Arlene called again, pointing upward. "Acondor?"

He shook his head. "No, senorita. No condor. Gallinazo. Condor mas grande- more beeg."

Arlene sat back, disappointed. So it was only some sort of buzzard and not the condor she had hoped for. Seeing a condor would mean that she was really in the Andes, for the great scavenger birds lived nowhere else.

The mountains were higher now, more rugged. The road twisted back and forth to ease the steep ascent. Sometimes the railroad tracks ran beside it; sometimes Arlene could catch a glimpse of tracks and tunnels high on the crags above her, and she remembered that Arturo had said it was the highest standard-gauge train in the world. Once they passed close to a downhill freight, and an hour or so later they caught up with the hillbound passenger train that had left Lima early that morning. Just before the train disappeared into one of the many tunnels, the road turned away from the tracks, making its own path among the crowding precipices.

Presently they came to a market town perched on a slope beside the river. Women and men were riding into town on their burros, sitting spraddle-legged on the last possible inch of rump, with bundles of green hay or bulging sacks propped in front of them. Carlos pulled up in front of a fruit stand, motioning invitingly to the piles of bananas and oranges.

"Oh, si, si," Arlene said gratefully, hopping out.

Pigs and chickens and ragtag Indian babies were wandering about, staring at the car and at herself. She chose her fruit quickly, then turned to deposit it on the car seat before getting the paper money Abancay had given her. She did not have the faintest notion how much either fruit or money was worth, but Carlos came over and the old woman selling the fruit took only one of the bills and gave back a handful of round brass coins in exchange.

"Gracias," Arlene said, smiling, and turned to get back into the car. All of a sudden a black dizziness engulfed her. She reeled, clutching wildly at the door. If Carlos had not steadied her, she would have fallen, and she could feel the pit of her stomach lurching up to her throat nauseatingly.

"Soroche, seflorita," Carlos said as if he meant to be reassuring. "Air seek. Air seek."

He motioned toward the front seat, and Arlene let him help her in. Airsick, she thought. Carsick, too, on these twisting roads. And it all added up to soroche-the altitude sickness she had been warned about. But they had talked about heart and lungs. Nobody had said her stomach would object so violently. She leaned her head against the window frame, and the dizziness seemed to pass.

"Okay?" Carlos said, with a questioning jerk of his head toward the road. "Okay, seflorita? "

"Okay," Arlene agreed, and surprisingly, she did begin to feel better. She recalled what Arturo had told her about the patriot armies under General San Martin fighting against the Spaniards on these mountain highlands. If the soldiers felt as dizzy as she had just now, it was no wonder that the war for independence lasted so long. It would be hard to walk around, let alone fight.

They passed other villages now, with a few adobe houses, and now and then she spied a lonely stone hut with thatched roof tucked under a hill. Then she saw a larger settlement with tall shafts and smokestacks that proclaimed a mining center, the Sierra Mines Company, Am-Pex's friendly competitor. The two American-owned companies exchanged parties, golf matches, bowling games, dances, picnics, so Tony had said, and he had warned her about the Sierra bachelors-wildest bunch on the Hill.

The camp dropped away behind a jutting crag of rock, and the road skirted the edge of the canyon. There were no trees now, only bunch grass, moss, and occasional scraggy shrubs. That meant they were above the timberline. Twelve thousand feet or more above sea level. No wonder she had soroche!

The car whirled around a sharp curve and skidded to a screeching stop. Arlene screamed, clutching the seat. The road ahead was filled with plunging furry bodies of long-necked beasts. Llamas. The car had almost run down a herd of them. One llama-evidently the leader-was springing up the steep cliff side, and some of the others followed, while the rest of the shaggy, camellike beasts simply stood still, backs to the road. A herdboy in a bright striped poncho and knitted eartab cap flicked pebbles at their hoofs from a slingshot, whistling them closer to the rock wall so there would be room for the car to pass.

Soon Arlene told Carlos that she was sleepy and wanted to lie down on the rear seat, and he pulled off the road in a wide place and helped her get settled, with one blanket for a pillow and another for cover. Soon she was asleep.

When she awoke it was dark-and much colder. She was so aware of the coldness enveloping her body that at first she did not realize that the car had stopped. Then she heard voices in swift Spanish, and she sat up. They were stopped in front of a gate. A huge green wooden gate in a white wall. She heard Carlos give her name, and the other man nodded and hobbled over to a kind of sentry box, and Arlene saw him crank the handle of an old-fashioned wall telephone. The watchman, she decided, reporting her arrival. So this was Tambomina.

The gates swung slowly open, and the car moved forward. The road was lighted with street lamps, and she could make out the shadows of houses set back from the road on either side. Carlos swerved to a stop before one of the larger buildings, and Arlene could see the sign over the door:

TAMBO-MINA STAFF HOUSE AMERICAN-PERUVIAN EXPLORATION CO.

Carlos went to the door, knocked, then opened it without waiting. A friendly glow of light shone from the wide-swung door. There were friendly-sounding voices. Arlene got to her feet shakily and slid out to the ground. Perhaps if she moved slowly, the dizziness and nausea would not come again. Cautiously she reached back for Arturo's roses, hoping they would not be too wilted, and surveyed them with a sad shake of her dark curls. If she looked as travel-weary as they did, she would not give Tambomina a very good first impression, she thought ruefully. She drew in a long breath and started for the door, just as a tall, fair-haired woman came hurrying out, calling out a greeting.

"Miss Moran? Welcome to Tambomina. I'm Alicia Bradley. Are you all right? Carlos says you have a touch of soroche."

"Oh, Mrs. Bradley," Arlene said, and suddenly her head began to whirl dizzily again. There was something she must say-or do. What was it? Oh, yes, the seeds from Seflor Abancay. She tried to fumble for them in her purse. "Seeds. He said to give you the seeds-"

"Seeds, pish," interrupted Alicia Bradley, taking Arlene by the arm. "I'll get the seeds tomorrow. Take it easy now, and I'll walk you to your room. You can walk, can't you?"

"Of course. I'm fine," Arlene said, but the words were a little shaky, and she had to laugh at herself.

Mrs. Bradley led her into the Staff House, and Arlene saw a roomy lounge opening off the small vestibule and a roaring fire in a huge stone fireplace on the opposite wall. There were six or eight khaki-clad figures sprawled about in leather chairs and sofas, and Arlene blurredly saw them get to their feet as Mrs. Bradley drew her into the room.

"Well, here she is, fellows," the manager's wife was announcing with a chuckle. "Miss Moran, the bachelors of Tambomina. You can get individual introductions tomorrow, but right now it's doctor's orders to go straight to bed. We don't want you to get a real case of soroche."

"Hiyah, teacher," said a lanky fellow by the fire, and the others joined with a medley of greetings, one of which was a very English cheerio. Arlene smiled at them, but the dizziness was coming again, and the faces began to blur.

"This way," Alicia Bradley said, guiding Arlene to a door and down a hallway to a lighted room. A living room, Arlene noted, and beyond it a bedroom and bath. Carlos was right behind with the suitcases, and carried them into the bedroom as Mrs. Bradley spoke to him in swift Spanish, too fluent for Arlene to catch more than her own name and the word "doctor."

"I'm not sick enough to call a doctor," she protested, but the woman was already waving Carlos out the door with added directions to hurry up.

"So you understand Spanish?" She smiled at Arlene as she helped her off with coat and hat. "That's good." Then she saw Arlene's worried glance at the drooping flowers and added, "They'll perk up if we dump them in the bathtub. You won't be taking a bath tonight. Bed for you, pronto."

She was working as she talked, and the roses were hurried into a tubful of water and Arlene into bed with almost equal dispatch. Then the manager's wife turned to the suitcases. "I'll just hang up your dresses," she offered. "The rest can wait till you feel yourself again."

"Oh, but you shouldn't be waiting on me," Arlene protested.

The older woman smiled. "You can wait on me hand and foot the next time I come up the Hill with soroche. That's the way we do things here. We're neighbors. Like pioneer days. We help each other, make our own fun. You'll see what fun we have-or at least I hope you'll think it's fun." She broke off and looked at Arlene questioningly.

"I'll have fun," Arlene answered. "I made up my mind to like it here before I started."

Mrs. Bradley nodded in approval. "Good." She turned to the suitcase again and then stopped as a knock came on the door. "Oh, Dr. Mac's here," she predicted.

Even without introduction, Arlene thought, she would have known the sandy-haired John McGraw was a doctor just by the way he crossed the room to her bedside. He was so much like her father, with light step, and head at questioning tilt. But as he came closer and the light from the bed lamp fell full on his face, Arlene was surprised to see that he did not have any of her father's features. Her father had been dark-haired, small-boned. Dr. John McGraw's face beneath the sandy forelock was almost craggy. High of forehead, square of jaw. Keen gray eyes whose sharpness was softened by the tug of smile wrinkles at the corners. And his hands. Long-fingered, flexible, never idle-looking even when they were motionless.

Dr. John McGraw had a personality that would demand to be recognized in its own right.

Arlene laughed.

Dr. Mac gave a brief professional nod of his sandy thatched head, and his gray eyes twinkled. "You don't need a doctor when you can laugh like that," he approved. He reached for her pulse, listened to her heart, and after a few moments nodded again. "Okay," he said. "Ticking steady as a clock." He put some capsules in an envelope and placed them on the nightstand beside her. "These will take care of that dizziness. I'll drop in tomorrow and see how you're doing. Get some sleep now."

"I'd like to eat first," Arlene objected plaintively. "I'm hungry."

Dr. Mac threw back his head and laughed. "That's my girl! You'll get along on the Hill all right, Arlene Mavourneen."

Arlene blinked, and the shivers prickled along her spine. Arlene Mavourneen! How did he happen to know her father's pet name for her? And then she banished the prickles with practical second thought. There was nothing magical about linking her name to such a familiar old song-especially for anyone as Irish-looking as John McGraw.

But there was something magical about that, the dreams she had that night. Perhaps the combination of the high altitude and the soroche and the excitement of her journey was what caused such vivid, intense dreams. As she lay in bed she was assaulted with image after image, almost lifelike in their vividness, which caused her to awaken numerous times during the night.

One series of dreams was particularly memorable for her. It involved herself lying naked atop a majestic mountain peak in the Andes. She was surrounded by all sorts of ancient Indian artifacts-gold and silver masks, colorful clothing, feathers, skins. And before her stood a line of naked men waiting to taste the pleasures of her body.

The first man came up to her slowly and bowed before her. Then he knelt down between her legs and began stroking on his cock, trying to get it hard.

When Arlene looked up, she saw that all the men in line were men from the mining camp-virile, muscular men who had built their bodies into powerful machines of flesh and blood after long hours of outdoor work. And they were all waiting impatiently to fuck Arlene.

The man between her legs finally got his prick as hard and as thick as possible. It stuck out from his crotch pointing almost straight up, throbbing with every beat of his heart. And when his penis bobbed up and down, his scrotum jiggled just a little, sagging with the weight of his cum-filled balls.

Arlene said something in a strange dialect, and then the man dropped down on top of her. He tried frantically to thrust his cock inside her by just bucking his hips back and forth, but he kept missing the mark. Arlene had to assist him, reaching down to grip his twitching penis and sliding it up against her pussy.

When the man was finally inside her, he began fucking into her with all his strength. Their bellies pounded together and his ball sac slapped against her asscheeks as they rode higher and higher toward ecstasy.

Then Arlene cried out something in that strange dialect. Three men broke from the line and ran over to her. She instructed them to stand close together near her head, struggling to remain coherent as the other man continued to ram his cock ferociously into her pussy.

She stretched out her arms to the sides and smoothed her hands over the legs of the two men who crouched next to her. Then she reached down and grabbed their cocks, fisting them and squeezing them tightly. As she stroked them, their penises grew hard and thick.

Then the last man knelt down over her face. His cock dangled down and touched her lips. She flicked out her tongue to lick his warm flesh, and soon he was as hard as the other three men. Trying to keep his balance while crouching over her face, he slid his shaft along her lips while she fought to wrap her tongue around his manmeat.

Arlene cried out again in her strange language, screaming at the top of her lungs. After a few moments, while the four aroused men did her bidding, they were surrounded by colorfully dressed Incas attired in warrior costumes. Arlene shouted out again and the Incas began circling the lovers. Then fires were lit all over, casting an eerie glow on the proceedings.

Wrapping her legs around the man who was continuing to fuck her, Arlene then gripped the cocks in her hands tighter and stroked them as fast as she could. Meanwhile, the man hunched over her face managed to slip his prick inside her mouth and she was sucking him eagerly.

The five people on the ground were tangled in a weird mass of fleshy lust while the Incas danced around them. Faster and faster the Indians danced, stomping the ground with their feet and the butts of their spears.

Arlene tried to shout out again, but her scream was cut off by the thick slab of flesh in her mouth. She gave in to the desires of the men surrounding her and allowed herself to be used by them, allowed herself to become nothing more than the worshiped object of their desires.

The man fucking her cunt was the first to have his orgasm. He grunted loudly, offering a strange counterpoint to the chanting Incas. Then he unleashed his boiling jism, filling Arlene's pussy to the brim.

The man with his cock deep down her throat came next. When she felt the first spurts of his cum, she tried to spit him out. He fell back a little while his cock was still spitting jism, and his seed splashed down across her face and chest.

Her stroking of the two other men paid off as they, too, launched into their climaxes. It seemed to Arlene as if she were being bathed in a torrent of cum. Turning her head from side to side, the only thing she could see was white, creamy liquid jetting into her face until she was blinded.

The intensity of the four orgasms was too much for her, and Arlene catapulted into her own climax as she was drenched with semen. She thrashed up and down against the ground, her loins quivering as her bliss rocketed through her...

Waking up with a start, she looked around her dark room, convincing herself that she had been dreaming. And then she fell back asleep, trying to recapture shreds of the wonderful dream she had just had.

CHAPTER FIVE

Arlene awoke with no trace of last night's soroche. As a matter of fact, she felt much better, though a bit tense. The tension was probably caused by the fact that events of the past couple of days had been happening so fast that Arlene couldn't quite grasp onto one thing and hold it.

Yet, as she lay in the bed, she began to feel a little more relaxed. She slipped her nightgown off, intending to get up and take a shower. Then she decided to wait a few more minutes in order to enjoy this period of idle relaxation.

Lying in the morning sunlight, Arlene began to recall the men in her life she had left behind-Kevin and Tony. Both were pleasant fellows, and they were certainly good lovers.

"I wouldn't mind having either one here right now," she muttered. "Or both!"

The brazen thought of making love to two men at the same time shocked her, despite her dream. She didn't even know for sure how it could be done... unless one was fucking her while she blew the other and then they switched around.

An image of such an experience welled up in her musing brain. There she was on the bed, straddling Tony's thick, upraised pecker-and then Kevin stepped up to the bed, offering her his outthrust meat. She closed her lips around it, loving the way it throbbed within her face, as she lowered her dripping twat onto Tony's staff, feeling it fill up her womb...

"Goodness!" the pretty brunette exclaimed. "That would be a pretty hot time, all right."

Thinking of such an episode, Arlene felt a tingling thrill of pleasure flow up her legs and settle in her pussy. Her breath quickened as she remembered the big, purple-veined members of the two handsome men. Instantly, the tingling sensation was replaced by a sharp yearning, and Arlene wondered how she could survive her stay in South America without regular doses of good, hard fucking. Her twat became hot and itchy, and love juice was forming so fast she could feel it streaming down the inside of her thighs.

"Oh, this is terrible!" the young girl wailed. "Here I am getting horny as hell... and there isn't anyone to help me." Then an obvious idea occurred to her. "Unless I help myself!"

Her hands crawled upward until they surrounded her twin globes. She squeezed the soft mounds, feeling them grow and swell. Taking each large nipple between thumb and forefinger, she tweaked the rosy buds until they stiffened out like bullets.

"Ooooh... my titties... wish someone was playing with my titties!" she moaned. "And someone was playing with my pussy, too!"

As if answering her call, her hands made a slow, inexorable crawl down her quivering, smooth torso until her fingers buried themselves in the thick mound of curly brown cunt hair. Then one hand returned to take one upraised jug and lift it to her mouth. Her tongue reached out and bathed the stiff nipple with saliva.

"Mmmmm... my tit tastes good," Arlene whimpered, "and I love to have my boobs licked!"

Her other hand moved upward and gratefully joined the chesty action. As her tongue continued to sensuously lick one stiff bud, her hand cupped and squeezed the other swelling melon. Jolts of pleasure raced through her as her tits achingly jutted toward the ceiling.

"Uuullmmfff!" Arlene spluttered. "So good... so goooood... " Her mouth went to work in earnest as she alternated her tongue and lips from one bulging boob to the other. Saliva coursed out of her mouth onto the white tit-flesh only to be slurped up again as the frisky brunette popped the erect nipples into her feasting orifice.

"Oh God, I'm getting too hot!" she whined. "This tit-eating is driving me bananas!"

She continued to bathe the quivering, stiffening orbs until her hips began a slow, thrusting motion of their own accord. Massaging her enormous knockers with rhythmic squeezes, the young girl took each nipple and gently chewed on the succulent tidbit. She moaned softly as the rapidly increasing tingle of pleasure spread through her burning buds then made its way down to her shuddering, steaming cunt.

"Oh my Lord... I've got to do more!" Arlene squealed, her eyes rolling wildly.

Releasing a tender breast, the horny girl moved a hand down to her bushy, moist crotch. Her fingers tugged and rubbed the slippery lips. She lifted her feet off the bed, suspending them in the air, and felt her twat lips grasp at her nearby fingers.

"I can't help it!" she howled. "I have to masturbate right now... ooooh, wish I had some cock!"

Her fingers immediately slipped down past her fibrillating cunt lips and hovered at the entrance to her flaming canal. She felt as though her twat was about to reach out and swallow up her entire arm.

Due to her frenzied state and hungry desire for some good hard pecker, Arlene's fevered mind kept picturing erotic scenes involving both her former lovers, Kevin and Tony. When she last left them, she was lowering her dripping pussy onto Tony's upraised dork as Kevin fed every inch of his pole into her drooling mouth.

"God, it seems so real!" the brunette heaved. "My mind must be so excited... it's like they're in bed with me right now!"

Her other hand frantically pinched and massaged her large boob and she repeatedly shoved the stiff bud into her face. Slurping noises filled the bedroom as she sucked up her own warm saliva. Her long, outthrust legs shook with need as her middle finger slowly and agonizingly worked its way into her oozing hole.

"Uuunnnhhh! I can't wait any longer... I've got to finger-fuck myself!" the frantic girl gasped. Her breath grew hoarse and labored. "And I'll think of their two pricks while I do it!"

Sure enough, her mind reeled with the lewd image. Now she saw herself pumping up and down on Tony's inflamed member, taking all of it deep into her drenched womb. The businessman grunted with effort as his hips were thrust upward to meet her passionate motions. Kevin groaned with delight as he buried all of his meat into her pretty face. He firmly held her head as he withdrew his rigid tool, then pushed all of it back in again.

"Oh Jesus... this is too wild!" Arlene mewled, her voluptuous body writhing against the bed, tying the sheets into knots. "Fuck me, Tony... stick your prick in my mouth; Kevin... ooooh, I love to masturbate!"

Her voice rose to a hysterical pitch as she lifted her ass off the mattress and her trembling middle finger brushed the erect button of her clit. Her grasping pussy lips made tiny sucking noises as she brought two more fingers into the lust-filled action.

"I'm going to go crazy if I don't satisfy myself!" the young girl howled.

She allowed her quivering ass cheeks, now coated and dripping with warm, musk-scented juice, to gradually sink back down onto the bed. Then, abruptly, Arlene shoved her hips upward as hard as she could. Her three fuck-fingers were completely buried in her flaming passageway, sending lightning bolts of intense ecstasy shooting to her overly excited nerve endings. The thunder of raging lust in her ears made her only vaguely aware of the hysteria of her loud screams.

"Oh God... oh shit... oh fuck mmmeeeee!" the brunette squealed, her face now a contorted red mask of uncontrolled desire.

Again her mind was filled with the wanton scene featuring a lusty threesome. Tony was thrashing against the bed, his hips bucking upward without any semblance of control. He moaned deliriously as Arlene again and again plunged her dripping twat down onto his purple-veined staff. And wildcat that she was, the young girl didn't forget Kevin-she kept her full, red lips clenched as he repeatedly plowed his vibrant pork into her accepting face. The wild cries of the two men were like a chorus of banshees as they both neared explosive climaxes.

"That's it... shove your cock in my mouth... uunnghgh... fuck me, Tony, oh Jesus fuck me!" Arlene's shrill voice echoed in the room. "Ooooh... my pussy is so hot!"

Spurred on by these passion-crazed images, Arlene pistoned her dripping ass up and down, faster and faster, her smooth thighs shuddering with the effort. She cradled both her swollen tits in her left arm and shoved them up against her flushed face. Her lips, teeth and tongue worked furiously on the two erect, aching buds.

"Eeeeee! my pussssiiieeeee!" Arlene shrieked, her senses totally overwhelmed by raging lust. "My titties... my pussy... eeeee!"

Thick, hot saliva dribbled down the deep valley between her bulging melons like a river of jism. Her movements were becoming more frantic and spastic, threatening to hurl her off the bed.

"I see them... they're about to come... Tony, Kevin... come all over mmmeeeee!" In her mind, the wildly lewd scene was nearing its desired conclusion. Tony's fingers dug into her hips as he desperately skewered her pink slit. Kevin's hands tugged her hair as he pummeled his throbbing pecker into her drooling orifice. Suddenly, the two men roared in unison as they lost control of their pent-up spunk.

"Give it to me!" Arlene pleaded. "Pour your juice into my face and pussy!"

And in her mind, this is exactly what the climaxing young men did. With a powerful heave upward, Tony released his load and shot it deep into the humping brunette's belly. Arlene felt her insides filling with white lava that bubbled over and coursed down her thighs.

A microsecond later, Kevin unleashed a quick succession of boiling wads into the young girl's face. Her head shook within his grasp at the potent impact. Grunting with satisfaction, the handsome teacher shot stream after stream into her feasting mouth, often errantly spewing forth a wad onto her cheeks or chin as Arlene's head bobbed. Completely beyond control, both men filled the fucking and sucking girl until she thought she would float away.

"Ohhhh... Oh God... Oh! Oh!" Arlene mewled at the delicious vision in her mind. "I wish they were really here shooting their loads in me!"

Then in her mind she saw herself achieving the sweet release of a powerful feminine orgasm. She writhed and squirmed in a frenzy, turning like a corkscrew on Tony's embedded rod.

"Yeah... that's happening for real... I'm going to... " She plunged her stiffened digits harder and harder, faster and faster into her raging twat. With her ass cheeks vigorously grinding into the mattress, she spread her legs wide, as wide as humanly possible, her fingers rampaging throughout her drenched womb.

"I can't stop... can't hold it back... I'm coming! I... Aaaaiiieeeee!"

Her screams exemplified the detonating pressure in her ravaged loins. Her release shot through every part of her body like bolts of heat lightning. Her fingers and hips ground together in an uncontrolled, frenzied finger-fucking rhythm.

"Ohhhhh Goddddd!" she shrieked.

She raised her head and howled like a coyote. Her orgasm came in tidal waves which rolled past her plunging fingers, soaking her hand with warm, syrupy ooze. One hand tore at the sheets so she wouldn't fly off the bed as her legs kicked and bicycled in the air.

Some time later the rocking of her body subsided. "Holy shit," she whimpered as she lowered her twitching limbs back onto the bed.

"Masturbation never felt that good before," she sighed, smiling with contentment. "I'd say that was the perfect way to start the day!"

* * *

It was noon before Arlene saw any of the Bull Pen brigade, the mine's bachelors she'd met last night, for they had breakfasted and gone to work long before she made her appearance. Now as she looked from the window she could see them getting out of a station wagon. The two Peruvians-one thin, one plump-she spotted at once. Behind them-Arlene looked again. That had to be Blacky Koch. She had pictured a dark, swarthy fellow, but this man was as blond as Hans. Blond, tall, and movie-star handsome. Dressed in khaki like the others, but khaki that was fitted to his athlete's figure with the trimness of custom tailoring. How did a blond get the name Blacky?

Arlene hurried into the dining room and discovered that the men had not waited for her. By the frantic way the usually slowpoke Juanito was scurrying to serve the soup, she guessed that the lunch time must be brief. Tom, seeing her hesitate, got up to present the two Peruvians, who had also risen courteously. The tall, slender one was Pedro de la Fuente; the chubby one, Miguel Delgado.

"And Blackwell Koch, Missouri's gift to mining," Tom finished, with a wave at the tall, handsome blond.

"Blackwell!" Arlene blurted out in a tone of sudden revelation. "I wondered where 'Blacky' came from when you're so blond. When I saw you getting out of the station wagon, I just couldn't believe my eyes."

He lifted blond brows, shrugged, lips quirking in silent, disdainful comment on her effusion, and Arlene felt her face redden. If only he would say something-anything.

It was Nick who rescued her. "Can't you tell?" he asked impishly. "We call him Blacky for his black, black heart."

The others conceded the witticism a grunt or a look and kept on eating, while Arlene took her place at the crowded table, grateful for their absorption. She was furious at herself for having acted like a silly, gushing nitwit. She made a silent, determined promise. Somehow she would make Black-well Koch forget this first impression. As a matter of pride, or self-respect, she told herself firmly, but underneath she knew there was more to it than that. Winning Blackwell Koch's friendship was suddenly, disturbingly, important. Did he, after so short a time, dislike her?

* * *

The answer to that question jumped out at Arlene the moment she entered the dining room for seven o'clock dinner. She had stayed at the Wiltons' for tea and so had not seen Blacky till now. And now he was seated alone at a separate, smaller table, his back to the big round family-style board. A very square-set back, broad-shouldered in neat checked sports jacket that must have been chosen to match the blue eyes turned so resolutely away from Arlene's approach.

Only Tom and bill were at the big table, and Arlene slipped into her chair between them with eyes lowered and round face flushed.

"Hi," she said in answer as the two greeted her, but she could not help throwing a questioning glance at Blacky's defiant shoulders.

The others came clattering in. Cherubic Nick, Ted Shane with an English cheerio, roly-poly Hans, smiling Pedro de la Fuente, and chubby Miguel-Delgado. They headed for the table with bright-eyed greeting that suddenly broke off as they spied Blacky's lone-stand defiance. At the same moment Arlene realized that there were two places set at Blacky's table-and two missing here at the big one. Who had wanted to join Blacky? She looked at the suddenly halted figures and understood that they were equally puzzled. They were looking at Tom as if expecting him to take seniority's privilege and speak out.

Tom looked and sounded embarrassed. "Well, there wasn't much room here," he offered lamely, and gestured at Blacky as if to put the responsibility where it belonged.

The silence was getting more awkward by the second when Miguel-the chubby one-took the chair next to Bill with a diplomat's bow in Arlene's direction.

"Room for me-no, senorita? Because I am Delgado."

He laid such heavy emphasis on his name that Arlene wondered if his were a family so famous even she ought to recognize it. Then suddenly she caught the twinkle in his eye and laughed. In Spanish, "delgado" meant thin!

"There's room for all of us," she said, paying tribute to both his diplomacy and the joke. "Delgado or not. I don't mind being crowded with such handsome hombres."

They cheered her for the compliment and swooped down, trying to juggle Bill and Tom from the places next to Arlene, but the two would not yield.

"Sit on my lap, Teach?" Nick offered hopefully, black eyes sparking mischief. "It'll give the others more room, you know."

The others yelled down the suggestion with deriding comment, and in the hubbub Arlene saw Ted Shane put a conciliatory hand on Blacky's shoulder. Blacky did not budge.

Why? Arlene asked, and then came up with what seemed the only possible answer. She had usurped Blacky's place at the table. Even in this short time she had noticed that the men were seated and served in order of rank. It seemed a childish thing, but both Dr. Mac and Alicia had warned her that the high altitude often made people hypersensitive, trigger-tempered, quick to take offense. Even people who found no difficulty in adjusting physically sometimes had trouble getting into safe emotional gear.

She jerked her chair to one side, leaving space next to Tom. "Sit here, Blacky," she called. "I'll move over."

There was a heavy moment of silence.

"Thank you, Miss Moran," he said with exaggerated formality. "I don't care to sit with anyone who orders me to watch my language."

Arlene was too stunned to answer. She looked around the table, but not an eye met hers. Were they embarrassed at Blacky's rudeness, or did they agree with him? What had she said to make them think- Then she remembered. Jim Bradley's solicitous warning. It had made trouble, just as she had feared.

"Look," Arlene said. Her face was flaming, she knew, and her voice was shaky with the threat of tears, the way it always was when she was really angry. "I didn't ask for any special order about your language. I'm not here to teach you-and, anyway, I stop being a teacher the minute I leave the classroom. After school hours I'm just me-myself. You can say anything to me you'd say in front of your sister or any other girl. Now will you be sensible and come sit with the rest of us?"

Blacky swallowed, looked abashed. Arlene, remembering how hard it was to back down in front of others, threw Tom a blue-eyed appeal for support.

"Come on, you stubborn Missouri mule," the assistant manager growled at the hesitant holdout. "Join the Union."

There was authority in the growl, in spite of the joking words, and Blacky yielded.

Arlene, trying to ease the tension, said, "I'm as hungry as six elephants."

Nick Rometta whistled. "Wow! Gotta do something about that." He snatched the plate from under the bread, shoved half his salad onto it, and passed it to the startled Pedro.

"A little food for the starving animals, Senor Pedro," he begged.

"Si, senor, como no!" Pedro agreed, catching onto the joke. He added a plump slice of tomato and passed the plate to Blacky.

Arlene held her breath, then let it out again as the mine foreman nonchalantly contributed his entire salad. As close to an apology as he was likely to make, Arlene decided, noting the proud tilt to that blond head.

"Eat, O starving one!" Tom Roberts intoned solemnly, presenting her with the heaped offering.

The others took up the chant, banging out the rhythm with spoons clanging against water glasses: "Eat! Eat!"

Arlene was sure that lettuce and tomatoes would be sticking out her ears before she finished such a plateful, but she dug into it. If there was one title she craved above all others, it was Good Sport, and she would try to win it even if she choked.

She was still eating away at the green and red mound when the phone rang and Juanito tried to make himself heard above the din.

"Seflorita! Seflorita profesora! Tele-fono!"

"Saved by the bell!" Nick called after her, and Arlene turned to flip him an impish look as she picked up the receiver.

It was Alicia, saying that the twins would be down for school in the morning at nine if she was ready.

"Fine," Arlene agreed, making a mental note to have Juanito serve breakfast in her room. The men would have less time to talk at breakfast than they did at lunch, likely, and wouldn't appreciate her presence. But if she weren't there, they might miss her-even Blacky.

When she got back to the table, the salad was gone. Through the kitchen door she saw the grinning faces of Juanito and Pablo the cook watching as if it were a hilarious sideshow. She looked over at Blacky, ready to share a smile, but there was only a mysterious challenge to those narrowed blue eyes.

CHAPTER SIX

Arlene was up early, eager to get the schoolroom ready before the twins appeared. Until her trunk arrived with the charts and maps and other supplies, the place would look like a pioneer school, with a blackboard that was exactly that-a board painted black-and old-fashioned desk and chairs that had been made in the mine carpentry shop. Three desks besides her own. Two just alike for the twins and a larger one for Margot Shafer.

Arlene frowned. There had been something very puzzling in the way Wayne and Dorothy Shafer spoke of Margot's expected homecoming from boarding school in Lima. As if the whole thing was experimental. Was Margot a problem child? Difficult? She hoped not, because the twins needed other pupils if they were to be made ready for school in the States, as she had suggested to Alicia on Sunday. And Alicia had agreed. It was her persuasion that had led the Shafers to send for Margot, and she had also urged Dr. Mac to send to the States for his son Jacky, who lived with his grandmother.

The frown deepened on Arlene's face as she recalled what else the manager's wife said: "Don't set your cap for Mac. He's married to his work. His wife died five years ago, right after Jacky was born, and Mac hasn't looked at a woman since-except as a patient."

"I'm not husband-hunting," Arlene had said for the second time.

Alicia had discounted the protest with an airy wave. "Say that, if you want to, but don't mean it. A happy marriage is the most wonderful thing in the world-and how are you going to have a happy marriage if you don't find a husband?"

Arlene had not answered the question then, and she did not try to now. Marriage was something for the future. First she wanted to make good on her own, in her own way. Teaching. Preparing these children for the world they must face on their own someday. Teaching principles. Facts were incidental, because facts could change. But not principles like courage and honesty and fair play. And wanting to know. That was most important of all. If you could make them want to know-and show them how to find out-then they could find a place in whatever kind of world the future would bring. But of course they had to learn to use their tools first, like any good workmen. Reading, writing, and arithmetic.

"Tambomina School," she wrote on the blackboard below the carefully chalked letters of the alphabet, and stood back to see if the line was even. The door behind her burst open.

"Hiyah!" shouted Jimsy, leap-frogging over the wastebasket.

"Hoyah!" shouted Janice, following in copycat sprawl. She thrust her pug-nosed grinning face up at Arlene. "I said hoyah," she repeated.

Arlene managed to keep her voice friendly. "Good morning, both of you. Would you please close the door?"

Jimsy banged it shut with one backward kick and slammed his pencil box down on the nearest desk.

"This one's mine," he announced.

"This one's moine," Janice shouted, racing over to the larger desk intended for Margot.

They were making such a clatter that Arlene had all she could do to keep from shouting back at them, but she kept her temper in leash. She had a firm conviction that children should be punished only for willful disobedience, not for harmless, unintended mischief. And how could twins know they were being flagrantly disobedient? They had never been in school before, and had never been forced to obey anyone except their indulgent parents. Having a houseful of easygoing Indian servants at their beck and call had only increased their willfulness. "Hill brats," was what Mary Wilton had called them, and Bud had added, "Occupational hazard." Well, somehow she would have to overcome that hazard. The twins would have a miserable time when they went to the States to school if they didn't learn how to get along with others.

"I'm sorry, Janice," Arlene said in a firmly controlled voice, "but that desk is the one made for Margot Shafer. Move your things to the other one, please."

Janice sat there, swinging her legs. "Won't," she said. "Like this one."

All Arlene's good resolve and philosophy about unintended mischief evaporated. "Janice Bradley," she said sternly, "you will get up from that desk right now, as I asked you to do."

Janice blinked. She did not move, but at least she did not talk back, and Arlene went on in the same firm tone. "This is school, Janice. In school the pupils obey the teacher. Why, if you acted like this in the States, the other boys and girls would think you were-"

"Crazy," Jimsy offered. He scowled over at his sister. "Come on, fathead. Get on over here. Can't you see these two desks are just alike? Of course they're ours."

Arlene gave the rebel a stern look. Surprisingly, the little redhead broke into a cherubic smile, climbed down from the bigger chair, and trotted across the room to the one beside her brother. She settled into her chair with a contented squirm. "It's just right," she decided. "Just my size. Like in the Three Bears."

"Of course," Arlene said. "That's why I asked you to sit there. I don't make rules just to be bossy. A teacher makes rules in school just the way your dad makes rules in the mine. For safety. And to make the work go faster."

"Gee, yes!" Jimsy agreed.

"Gee, yiss," his sister parodied.

For a moment Arlene was tempted to correct her, to nip the impish word-twisting before it got out of hand, but she decided to ignore it. Other things were more important.

"Let's pretend that this is a big school-like you'll go to in the States someday. We'll pretend we have a whole roomful of children and we'll have to be quiet and courteous so that everyone has a fair chance to study and learn. Look at this picture of all the children who were in my class last year in the States. Think of all the noise if they came in the way you did just now-kicking the door and yelling."

The twins were out of their seats and across the room to look at the photograph before she could finish speaking.

"Gosh, must be a million kids," Jimsy said.

Arlene smiled. "A million would be a lot more than this. Why not count instead of guessing? I'll bet your dad doesn't just guess how much ore the men dig out."

They were counting together, chubby fingers following the rows, without further command.

"Thirty-two," they announced in triumphant chorus.

"Right! Good for you. Your mother told me you were good counters. Now let's find out what else you know."

"Will you read us a story?" Janice asked, eyeing the thick book of animal stories on Arlene's desk.

"After a while," Arlene promised. "Lessons come first. But you know, if you pay attention, you'll soon be able to read stories all by yourself. When my trunks come, we'll have all kinds of books-with stories about animals and flowers and funny jokes and people in faraway places."

"And boys and girls just like us?" Jimsy asked.

"Yes, indeed," Arlene nodded, although at that moment she was not sure there were boys and girls just like these irrepressible redheads anywhere-in books or out. But they were eager to learn. There was that much to the good.

* * *

As the first week of school ended, there seemed no doubt that the twins were not only willing pupils but devoted ones as well. Arlene, trying to make up for lack of playmates, let herself be commandeered for after-school games. Croquet, jacks, dominoes, checkers-even baseball, when Nick, Bill Payne, and some of the others could be persuaded to join them. It was a very mild, watered-down Softball version, but the twins were enchanted. They had been at her elbow each noontime, begging her to hurry and play with them, and so she had had no second chance to feel deserted when the men rushed through lunch for their "two minutes of sunshine."

Much to Arlene's amusement, the twins had also deprived Tambomina of any chance to gossip about which bachelor escorted her to the midweek movie. With a chattering twin on either hand, not even the most persistent bachelor had a chance. And Blackwell Koch could not be described as "persistent," Arlene reminded herself. "Polite" was about as encouraging a word as she could apply to Blacky. Would he improve any under the relaxing influence of the weekend? This was Friday...

She looked up. As usual the twins were still at their desks coloring pictures, although lessons had been over a good half-hour, and Arlene closed her notebook with the outline of next week's assignments with a determined sound.

"School's over. Shoo. I'm going to lock the door till Monday."

Jimsy gave her a thoughtful look as he shoved his books into the desk. "You going to Lima with the bachelors? They'll give you a wild time, I bet."

Now where, Arlene asked herself, did he get that idea? But she did not allow the question to show on her face. "You're wild enough for me, right here in Tambomina," she said, and tried to get them safely out the door.

Janice blocked the way. "Did Blacky get your goat?" she asked with a suspiciously innocent air. "He said he would."

This time Arlene was not so sure she kept her face expressionless, but she tried. "I don't have a goat to get," she temporized. "You two are the ones who have a goat." Jimsy jumped at the opening. "Can't we bring him to school Monday? Please! Chico is such a good goat."

"You said you'd think about it," Janice reminded her.

"All right," Arlene agreed. "But just for a few minutes. Now scoot-before I change my mind."

They scooted, leaving Arlene with a tumbling tangle of questions. What had Blacky meant by saying he'd get her goat? Was he still angry about that order to watch his language? Or had the twins made up the whole thing so they could tease her into letting them bring their pet to school? And were the bachelors all going to Lima? Was she going to have to spend the weekend alone, with only the twins for companionship? Much as she liked them, much as she liked teaching, she had counted on the weekend for a different kind of fun. The Wiltons were including her in their plans for Sunday, but that still left Saturday. Was it going to turn into "the loneliest night in the week?"

As Arlene came into the dining room she found the answer to one question. The bachelors had not all gone to Lima. Only two places were vacant-Tom Roberts' and Bill's. Tom had gone down to be with Anne, of course, and Bill had probably gone with him, for the two were good friends. But the twins had been right about the wild time-only it was here, not in Lima. A bottle of whisky and a bowl of chipped ice adorned the center of the table. If only she had realized it in time, she could have asked for dinner in her room, but now she was caught.

"Have a drink on the new daddy-o," Nick greeted her, shoving the bottle toward her. "Celebrate."

"Daddy-o!" Arlene exclaimed. "You mean Tom? How's Anne? Is it a boy or a girl?"

"Boy!" Nick said, pouring himself a drink from the bottle Arlene had not touched. "Thomas Augustus Roberts, Junior." He lifted his filled glass with a vague wave in the general direction of Lima and said thickly, "Heresh mud inna eye, Junior!"

The others downed to toast with him and reached for refills. Blacky took one look at the diminishing contents and yelled for Juanito. The boy came in, timidly, with a trayful of salads.

"Take 'em away," Blacky ordered. "Who wants to eat? Whisky, boy. Pronto. Whisky."

When he had the new bottle open, Blacky poured a drink for himself and then shoved one at Arlene.

"Drink up, Teach," he ordered. "Another happy little pupil for you. Here's to Junior!"

"To Junior," Arlene said, joining the chorus, but she drank it in water, not whisky.

The men, busy with downing their own portions, had not noticed Arlene's untouched glass, and she was about to make a quick excuse for escape when Blacky's voice interrupted.

"Well, well, well," he said, pointing an accusing finger at the untouched glass. "So our dear little sissy Teach is a teetotaler. I might have known."

The others stopped to stare, and Blacky went into a taunting singsong. "She will not drink, she will not smoke-"

"That's my privilege," Arlene said, trying to keep it light, for she could guess that drinking, plus short-tempered altitude nerves, could lead to some pretty violent reactions, and she had no wish to force a quarrel. "I just don't like it," she added, trying to sound reasonable, matter-of-fact.

"Oh," Blacky said, deliberately misunderstanding. "Don't like a highball. Guess you take it straight. Me, too."

Before Arlene realized what he was up to he was pouring a good-sized shot of whisky into an empty glass, thrusting it against her mouth.

"Down the hatch, Teach. Then I'll give you a little chaser."

At the first dribble of liquor on her lips, Arlene's temper snapped. She snatched up the water pitcher and emptied it with one cascading swoosh over Blacky's astonished face.

"You chase yourself!" she threw at him.

Blacky spluttered, gulped, shook himself like a dog dumped in the mill pond. The others stared, speechless. Arlene was speechless, too, completely astounded by her own sudden action. But she stood her ground, with hands on her hips, defying him to retaliate.

He was swabbing at his dripping hair with a napkin, flaring at her, and then all at once he went off into a wild spasm of laughter.

"You-you," he choked, pointing at Arlene. "You told me to chase myself! And-and-" He dissolved into hysterical laughter, pointing to the pitcher. "Chase myself. Get it?"

He rocketed off into another spasm, and the others, catching the unintended pun, laughed with him. Arlene could feel herself letting go in a burst of giggles-helpless, hysterical giggles completely beyond control.

She did not hear the door open or know that anyone had come up beside her till a hand on her shoulder brought her whirling about-face. John McGraw stood there looking at her with a puzzled frown in his searching gray eyes, a frown that veiled itself quickly in the doctor's professional smile she knew so well.

"What goes on here?" he asked mildly, but there was a reserve of gruff strength behind the query.

Arlene, her hysterics stopped as sharply as if he had given her the old slap-in-the-face remedy, knew what he was thinking. How could he help but think it when there was the glass in front of her, the insane giggles, the reek of whisky on her lips?

"I wasn't," she began. "I-I-" She swallowed. How could she explain without sounding like a tattletale?

"Well," she tried again, but before she could think up anything else she heard Blacky coming out with the whole story, recounting her "chase yourself" pun as if it were the best joke in the world.

Doc Mac chuckled, giving Blacky's shoulder a playful poke, and slipped down into the chair at Arlene's side. One hand rested on the back of Arlene's chair, and she was as conscious of the touch of his long fingers against her collar as if he had clenched her an iron grip.

"Atta girl," he said, much to Arlene's amazement, for she had been sure he would think her unforgivably childish. "You keep these guys in line, or they'll answer to me."

"Hm," Ted Shane put in. "She does a jolly good job by herself."

"Yeah, man," Nick seconded. "She made Blacky take his medicine, all right."

The split second of electric silence told Arlene just how daring it was for Nick Rometta, plain shift boss, to make fun of the general mine foreman. If Blacky chose to pull rank- "She sure did," Mac's drawl slipped into the silence, the quickness of his intercession hidden under the slow tone. "A bath on Friday. Man, that's punishment."

If he had been talking about anyone except the fastidious Blacky, it wouldn't have been so funny. Arlene, laughing with the others, gave Mac a look of blue-eyed admiration. He was handling these trigger-tempered men as coolly and skillfully as he'd handle his surgeon's scalpel, leading them all away from the brink of brawling hysteria.

"That reminds me of a story," Mac went on, unobtrusively giving a signal to Juanito, watching wary-eyed around the corner of the kitchen door.

Arlene, catching the one-fingered circular motion, understood he meant dinner, all around, and heaved a sigh of relief. She picked up her fork the moment her plate was served, and saw that the others were following suit, absent-mindedly, held by the chortling good humor in Mac's voice. One story led to another...

"Good meal," Mac said finally, pushing back his plate. He gave Juanito the circled thumb and forefinger of approval. "Tell Pablo I said he is one buen cocinero. Macanudo."

Juanito grinned at the slang, and Mac turned to Arlene.

"Well, seflorita, how's about a lesson in local geography? Want to go to Huancayo with me Sunday?"

Before Arlene could answer, the irrepressible Nick let out an amazed whistle. "Cheez, Doc, you got nerve. Asking for a date in front of everybody. What if she turns you down?"

"She won't," Mac said confidently. "Will you, Macushla?"

"Macushla!" Nick shrieked. "Pet names, yet. What gives?"

"Ta-dum, tee-dum," Ted hummed. "Here comes the bride."

Arlene was blushing furiously, but she was not going to be done out of a trip to Huancayo, the most colorful market town in Peru, just because of their teasing. She knew, as the others did not, that the trip had already been arranged by the Wiltons.

"Listen, you," she said, giving them all a sweeping flash of blue-eyed indignation. "Do you have to ring wedding bells every time anyone talks to me? I didn't come here to get married any more than you did. Can't you-can't you just think of me as a sister?"

Nobody answered for a minute. They were looking at Blacky, obviously expecting him to take the lead, but the tall blond foreman only shrugged.

"That sounds reasonable," Mac's drawl filled in. "But let's not make this too permanent. All in favor of declaring Miss Arlene Moran a sister for the next six weeks say aye."

"Aye!" came the agreeable chorus.

Arlene looked across at Blacky, the questioning lift of her dark brows asking why he had not voted with the others. "Aye, yes or boo?" she demanded.

He gave her a long look. "All right," he yielded. "For six weeks. I can stand it if you can."

Mac's hand was on Arlene's shoulder, claiming her attention. "We're to have breakfast at the Wiltons' Sunday. Meet you there at six sharp. Have to get an early start if you girls are going to have time to shop."

"I'll be ready-and thanks." She looked at him gratefully, hoping he would understand. "Thanks for everything."

CHAPTER SEVEN

Saturday morning Arlene awoke to hear footsteps outside her door. Then she heard them move away. The pretty brunette stretched and observed the stream of golden sunshine coming through her window. Something told her this would be a special day.

She heard the footsteps return and there was a knock on the door. Arlene hesitated to answer because during the slightly warm night she had changed into a skimpy nightgown. Then, she called out, "Come in!"

Alicia entered the room. Arlene's eyes widened with admiration-the blonde was also wearing a thin, short nightgown that revealed most of her luscious form.

"Good morning, Arlene," the manager's wife called gaily. "I brought you some orange juice."

"Oh, that's very kind of you!" the young girl replied. The tasty liquid was delicious. "Was that you I heard outside a moment ago?"

"Yes, it was. I... wanted to come in... but I wasn't sure if I should.

Arlene made no comment as she was confused by the older woman's hesitant statement. Indeed, Arlene was a bit distracted, and for a very good reason.

With the sunlight streaming in behind the blonde, Arlene could easily view through the negligee Alicia's perfectly formed breasts. They weren't quite as big as her own, but they jutted out firmly, embellished by two full, cherry-red nipples at the tips. Arlene could even see the blonde triangle of bushy pussy hair.

"Looks like a nice day," Alicia said, sitting on the edge of the bed.

The manager's wife perched a long, smooth leg up on the bed. She wondered if the young girl could see how wet her twat was fast becoming. She couldn't help gazing at Arlene with yearning, admiring her healthy body. She had admired it the very first time she saw it, and now she nearly fainted with need at seeing it so closely.

"I'm getting excited too quickly!" the older woman cried inwardly, her body tensing with desire. She casually opened her thighs a bit more. "Putting my pussy on display like this, to this beautiful young teacher, is driving me wild! I have to... but I've got to take it easy or I'll scare her away!" Arlene spoke up. "You seem a bit tense, Alicia. Is anything wrong?"

"N-no," the blonde stammered. She tried to compose herself. "Sometimes I get... restless. Living out here, there are some things... I can't do." Like have a luscious young girl around, she almost added.

"Maybe we can do a few things together while I'm here," the brunette said innocently.

Alicia felt sparks shooting through her loins. "Let me get you more juice!" She jumped off the bed and went out to the hallway where a tray was waiting.

While she was gone, Arlene realized her eyes had been fastened on Alicia's smooth, slender thighs and the area of her sheer negligee where several strands of curly blonde cunt hair peeped out.

"I wonder what pussy tastes like?" she muttered to herself. She was surprised at how her breath quickened at the thought. "Goodness, what am I thinking? What would Alicia say if she thought I was a... lesbian?"

Out in the hallway, Alicia poured more juice with a trembling hand. Her sexual excitement was increasing at a speed she'd never experienced before.

"God, I'm pretty hot!" she inwardly exclaimed. "In another second I would have slid out of my nightgown and finger-fucked myself right in front of her! I can feel juice running down my legs!" On weak knees she re-entered the room. As she handed Arlene the glass, she realized she'd better change the subject.

"Arlene, how about if I help you select a nice outfit for the day?"

"That's very kind of you," the young girl replied with appreciation. "I'll just jump in for a quick shower first."

"Hurry... I mean, I'll have a few things waiting," the blonde said hoarsely.

Arlene slid out of bed and went into the bathroom. She tugged her nightgown off and turned the soothing water on her back. She soaped up, then languished under the warm, steady stream.

Soon, though, her body began an odd tingling under the caressing trickles of water. It reminded her of the frustration she frequently felt over not having a familiar man within ready reach. For instance, if she had Kevin with her right at that moment-standing naked beside her, his blood-filled pole pressing against her naked belly-she would slowly jerk him off, running her soapy hand back and forth along his staff. Then she'd ride his cock as if she were on a bucking horse while his mouth furiously worked on her nipples "Better cut that out, Arlene," the young girl admonished herself. "Now I'm all hot and horny... what's Alicia going to think?"

The brunette stepped out of the shower. She tried to think of some idle thoughts to eliminate the intense throbbing of her twat as she dried off.

"Hope Alicia's not wondering what's taking me so long," she muttered.

The beautiful blonde had had thoughts of her own to contend with. After Arlene had gone into the bathroom, all Alicia could think of was the voluptuous build of the young girl. She had been worried that an unattractive, spinster-type teacher would be sent down. Alicia had been thrilled to see the pretty young brunette. Arlene easily exceeded the older woman's wildest fantasies.

"Too bad she isn't calling me to wash her back or something," Alicia sighed.

She pictured Arlene in the shower, standing naked in the spray of warm, soothing water, running her soapy hands caressingly all over the curves and contours of her young, soft body "Ohhhh... I'm getting too hot!" Alicia moaned.

What if Arlene refused any sort of advance? What if she was too inexperienced or frightened to explore a new way of love? Then Alicia gazed down at her own luscious form and decided there shouldn't be much of a problem. She didn't often have an opportunity like this, but when she did she was able to make the most of it. And Arlene was the best opportunity she'd ever had!

"If anything," she murmured, "this beautiful girl will be too much for me!" Her body tensed with a fresh surge of lesbian excitement as she again pictured Arlene's pretty features. First the shiny brown hair, then the cute, innocent face, the blue eyes that would melt a glacier in seconds, the pert mouth that concealed a long, red tongue, a smooth freckled chest that sloped to form two enormous boobs tipped by firm pink peaks, and...

"Oh God, if I keep up like this I'll go insane!" the blonde mewled. "Where is Arlene? She better get back here or I'll... " Without realizing it, the older woman had allowed her right hand to crawl down her front to the vibrant area between her legs where her fingers played gently with her aching, slobbering pussy. Her left hand reached up under the sheer negligee. The fingers of this hand traced the moist crevice of her ass crack as the other set of fingers increased their pressure on her damp mound.

"I'm going to come before she gets out of the shower!" Alicia squealed. Her breasts heaved under the nearly transparent material of her negligee. "I've... got to hold back... a little longer!"

But her left hand seemed to have a mind of its own and it ignored her pleas to halt. It continued to stroke the damp area between her white, soft ass cheeks. Her right hand moved back to join in. The blonde gasped with unconcealed need as her fingertips gently rubbed the pink, clenched opening of her asshole.

"God, no! Ohhhh... " she whined in desperation.

With a tremendous effort, Alicia dragged her hungry hands from the inflamed area between her quivering thighs and placed them on the bed.

"I've got to wait," she said huskily. "I want to come when Arlene's licking my pussy!"

On weak knees, Alicia began to pace the room, hoping the motion would help her regain control. With each step she felt rivulets of cunt juice coursing down her long, slender legs.

In the bathroom, Arlene was having her own problems. Unable to take her mind off pulling Kevin's pud in the shower, the brunette felt a strong need for a good, hard fuck. With each passing second her pussy was getting wetter and hotter. She kept rubbing it with a towel, but she couldn't stop the cascade of syrupy fluid.

"I wonder if... Alicia has a vibrator!" she suddenly exclaimed. "I've got to do something soon!"

It would certainly be embarrassing to reveal to Alicia her uncontrollable lust, but Arlene realized that if she didn't get something between her legs soon she would go insane. Maybe Alicia could help her out... without using a vibrator!

"What am I thinking of?" the confused brunette wailed. "I'd better get out of here before I think of doing something I'll regret later!"

With an effort, Arlene halted her erotic musing and reached for her short nightgown. After she had slipped into the flimsy garment, she realized it barely covered her bushy brown mound. She discovered the length was altered by the two large mounds jutting out from her freckled chest. Her nipples were almost fully erect, raising the material up and outward like two tent poles. It made her think of Alicia's large red buds that had been easily discernible through her thin negligee.

"I bet they're delicious to suck on," she moaned. "Just like tiny cocks!"

With a toss of her head, Arlene strode out of the bathroom. She was pleasantly surprised to see the attractive blonde woman standing by the bed, her hands on her hips and her long legs spread.

"Feeling better after your shower, Arlene?" Alicia said, her voice catching.

"Yes, Alicia... are you all right?"

The young girl noticed that the beautiful blonde was breathing with some difficulty and that her face and neck were flushed. Her large nipples protruded through the thin fabric, pointed like little knives. Arlene allowed her eyes to travel down to the easily observable triangle of blonde pubic hairs, then her gaze went farther downward to take in the smooth, slender legs.

"I've got to stop staring at her," Arlene inwardly moaned. "She'll wonder what's going on."

"I'm fine, Arlene," the blonde replied. Alicia stepped up to the young girl. "Boy, those big breasts of yours sure do justice to that nightgown. They make my tits look like a couple of pears. Look at what I mean."

The older woman leaned forward until her wide, round nipples rested on Arlene's stiff buds. The brunette felt a searing bolt of desire shoot from her jugs down to her already burning cunt.

Reeling thoughts spun through the young girl's mind. "What would Alicia say... if she knew I want to lick her titties this very second? Oh God... I wish her fingers were up my pussy!"

"See, Arlene, mine aren't as big as yours," Alicia said softly. She leaned forward a bit more and the girls pressed their swelling knockers together. "Yours have such a nice, firm shape."

So saying, the luscious blonde ran one hand along her own tits while her other hand caressed Arlene's bunched-up boobs. The older woman expertly rubbed the hard, stiff nipple with her palm with each gentle stroke.

Arlene couldn't believe what was happening, and how hot her cunt was becoming. "Oh! I can't help it!" her mind screamed. "I want her to suck on my tits!"

"Yes, dear, you're much bigger and firmer," Alicia cooed. She lifted her knee and brushed it against the young girl's moist mound. "What have we here? Arlene, you're soaking wet!" The blonde grinned mischievously. "Weren't there any towels in the bathroom?"

"Alicia... I don't know what's happening to me!" Arlene wailed. Her knees felt weak and intense heat radiated throughout her voluptuous body. "I'm sorry, I... I must be a lesbian or something... sorry .'.."

"Don't apologize, honey," Alicia crooned. "I understand completely."

The fingers of the older woman's right hand crawled down from Arlene's erect nipple and reached under the hem of the thin nightgown. Arlene almost passed out when she felt the long digits sliding along her hot, slippery pussy lips. Slowly, one finger passed smoothly between the fibrillating lips and into the inflamed passageway of her drenched hole.

Then, to Arlene's astonishment, Alicia withdrew her finger and brought it to her lips. She lewdly slid it in and out of her mouth, her tongue and lips sensuously absorbing all of the glistening love juice.

This action made Arlene's resistance break down. "Oh, Alicia... I want more! Do more, please!"

Alicia's smile quickly disappeared, replaced by a contorted expression of naked lust. "Hold me, Arlene! Grab my ass... ahhh, that's it!"

Arlene reached around and squeezed the blonde's two soft ass cheeks. After hitching up the young girl's nightgown, Alicia did the same. Then the two girls began to slowly rub their steaming pussies together, moaning as they tongued each other's face and neck.

"Oooooh... " they chorused ecstatically.

Hands clutched and squeezed quivering ass cheeks while their fingers probed steaming crevices. Simultaneously, the exploring digits found moist assholes. The fingers moved in and out with increasing rapidity as their slits pumped against each other.

"Alicia... honey!" Arlene cried. "Take off your negligee... I've got to suck your titties!"

Reeling with desire, Alicia quickly complied. She couldn't believe how horny she was. Her breathing was labored from her own excitement and from the pressure of the young girl's large melons pressed against her own. She cupped the two swollen mounds and offered them up to Arlene's wide-eyed gaze.

"Here they are!" the older woman announced. "Take them and suck them... now!"

Arlene buried her flushed face between the blonde's heaving jugs. After running her tongue the length of the smooth valley, she turned her attention to sucking and biting the erect buds, teasing and rolling them with her long tongue. At one point she sucked so hard that she found half of one boob deep in her mouth! Then, to her delight, Arlene felt a finger brushing her cunt lips.

"Fuck me with your finger!" the brunette demanded. "Stick it all the way in... please!"

Happy to fulfill the urgent request, Alicia slid her finger into the girl's gleaming slit. She slowly drew it back and rubbed the slippery pussy lips. Moaning with joy, the blonde added another finger. Arlene dug her fingernails into the older woman's back as she felt Alicia begin a vigorous finger-fucking.

"Oh my God... Alicia, stop!" the impassioned brunette howled. "Stop or... I'll come! Here, let me eat your pussy!"

"Jesus, yes!" the blonde cried. "Get down there and fuck me with your long tongue!"

Arlene whimpered with hunger as Alicia lay back on the bed and spread her lovely legs. Her hips jerked with frantic anticipation. Arlene gazed admiringly at the woman's pink, streaming twat. Without hesitation, she got on the bed and lowered her head to the glistening meat.

"Eat me, Arlene!" Alicia yelped. "Lick my cunt!"

With the first touch of Arlene's pink tongue on her melting meat, Alicia felt as though she'd just come in contact with a live wire. Her hips convulsively jerked off the mattress. Arlene's probe slid past the grasping cunt lips and snaked up into the fiery canal. Alicia grabbed the young girl's head and shoved the pretty face into her steaming vagina.

"That's it, honey!" she squealed. "Eat me out!"

Arlene licked the throbbing cunt walls for a tantalizing moment, then moved back out to lovingly slurp warm, musk-scented juice off the gleaming cunt lips. She rubbed her bulging mounds against Alicia's white thighs, feeling her own twat heating to forest fire proportions.

"God, Arlene... you're driving me crazy!" Alicia yowled.

The pretty brunette gasped, "Alicia... you've got to eat me too! I can't wait any longer!"

"Come up here!" the experienced blonde ordered. "We'll do some sixty-nine!"

Propelled by desperate need, Arlene turned around and clambered onto the heaving woman. Alicia pushed the girl's slender thighs apart, and she felt Arlene doing the same. Now both steaming pussies were fully exposed to the girls' hungry mouths. The brunette dug into the tender meat, her teeth nibbling maddeningly. Then her tongue rolled out long and stiff and she made lewd fucking motions as she shoved the prod in and out of Alicia's cunt.

"Oooowweee!" the blonde squealed.

Meanwhile, Alicia uncovered her friend's clit. She twirled it furiously with her tongue, her fingers pinching the girl's shuddering pussy lips.

"Jeeeesus! Alicia... oh good Christ... I can't stand it!" Arlene screamed ecstatically.

"Me neither, honey!" Alicia shrieked. "Keep eating me... Eat me!"

With uncontrolled animal rage the two girls fell to their succulent feast. Arlene buried her face in the streaming honeypot between the blonde's twitching thighs. Her tongue seemed to grow longer with each passing second as it rampaged through the burning canal and forced its way into the dripping furnace of Alicia's womb. The frenzied blonde thrashed helplessly against the bed, her hoarse breathing echoing in the room.

"Ohhhh... Arlene... you're driving me past the point... ooooh!"

"Eat me more, Alicia!" Arlene begged. "Lick my pussy... eatmmmeeeee!"

Alicia stiffened her tongue and plunged it into the burning hole above her face as far as she could. Arlene's body tensed as tidal waves of erotic pressure mounted in her inflamed loins. She thought she was about to go out of her mind, never to return. Then, to make matters worse, one of Alicia's trembling fingers found the young girl's asshole. Stretching the rubbery orifice open, the digit slid into the moist canal.

"Eeeeeeeaaahhhhh!" Arlene brayed, her blue eyes revolving in their sockets. "Oh God... that's what I want... finger-fuck my asshole!"

"Yes I will!" the blonde screamed. "Fuck me with your long... Ohhhh!"

With violent shudders, tits mashed against thighs and teeth savagely tearing at quivering cunt lips, the two lust-crazed girls attacked the pleasure centers. It wasn't long before this erotic, animallike activity pushed them beyond the breaking point.

"Alicia! Eeeeee... Alllliiicia!" Arlene screamed at the top of her lungs. "I'm... I... Aaaiieeeee!"

"Me too... you're making me come... Oooohh... Oooohhhooowwww!"

Their hysterical screams rose in a chorus of unleashed lust as their pussies exploded. Wave after wave of pulverizing pressure rocked through their thrashing bodies. As they climaxed, pussies ground against mouths with renewed frenzy, mounting orgasm upon orgasm. The shrieking and coming seemed to go on for hours as they were lost in a spinning universe of total feminine release.

Finally, their moans became whispers and the convulsions of their bodies subsided. They collapsed, arms entwined, whimpering with satisfaction.

"Mmmmm... I never knew it could be like that," Arlene mewled softly.

Gently kissing one of the brunette's still stiff nipples, Alicia said, "I think I'm going to like having you around, honey!"

CHAPTER EIGHT

Later on that day, Dr. Mac and others drove up in his Jeep and suggested to Arlene that she accompany them on a shopping trip. The pretty young girl eagerly agreed and she hopped in next to them.

"Mary knows all the shops," Dr. Mac remarked good-naturedly. "By the end of today, we'll need a truck to haul everything back."

"Maybe," the woman said, eyes twinkling.

"Definitely! I know women!" the doctor exclaimed. He looked at Arlene, gray eyes teasing, but underneath there was still that quick professional survey. He couldn't help but take swift note of the pink cheeks and the bright blue eyes clear of any hint of altitude nerves.

"I'm fine," Arlene said, as if he had asked the question.

Mac chuckled. "Have to watch my step with you. You read me like a book."

Bud Wilton, still the geologist even on holiday, was hunching forward on the seat, leaning over Arlene's shoulder to point out the queer, humped ridges of rock formation on the slope ahead, giving her their geological structure.

She tried to repeat the long words after him, wishing she knew more geology as foundation.

"Man," Bud sighed. "What I wouldn't give for a chance to do a geology field lecture on a place like this."

"What did you call that spiel you just made to Arlene?" his wife asked with a chuckle, and Bud joined in the laughter at his expense. Geologists, he admitted, were worse than mining men when it came to talking shop.

There were a few traces of yesterday's quake, Arlene noticed. Small landslides and tumbled piles of rock cluttered the road edge. But those might happen anytime, Bud explained, even without a quake to set them off. Landslides were an accepted hazard in the Andes, especially in rainy season. Sometimes the whole roadway-and the railroad track, too-were blocked for days at a time. But the heavy rains had not started as yet, and so today there was nothing to worry about.

"Here's what I want you to see," Mac said, pulling the car over to the side of the road so that they could look at the ruins of an old stone bridge built by the Spanish conquistadores three or four hundred years ago. A little farther on he pointed out a fortresslike lookout post atop a ridge, built either by the Spaniards or by the Incas who had withdrawn to mountain hideouts when the conquerors came. The road soon left the mountains behind, stretching out through a sunny valley, and Arlene took a long draft of lowland air. There were flowers now instead of the barren mountain bunch grass and moss. Giant maguey plants, shrubs, trees. Clusters of brown adobe houses with pink tile roofs. Arlene caught sight of twittering brown sparrows and golden-coated finches darting in and out among the clumps of yellow broom whose bonnetlike flowers matched their own bright feathers.

As they reached the outskirts of Huancayo, a policeman motioned them off the main street, pointing to a parallel side road. On market day all traffic was barred from the main street. Booths and stalls were already set up on each side of the paved thoroughfare, and Arlene could see the double line of their pagodalike white canvas awnings stretching ahead for blocks. In a few moments they reached the Tourist Hotel, an attractive white stucco building with dark carved wooden balconies fronting a flower-filled plaza.

"Say, that's good-looking," Arlene said admiringly. "Those balconies make me feel romantic, just looking at them."

"Good!" Mac chuckled. "I knew there must be a reason for bringing you here."

Bud whistled. "Listen to old Doc!"

Arlene was blushing furiously, and Mary Wilton joined the teasing.

"You can take her to Nazca and Cuzco and Arequipa and Inquitos, too, Mac. They've got balconies on all the turista hotels. Bud and I volunteer as chaperones."

"For a small fee," her husband added.

Arlene was no longer listening. She was standing in the lobby gazing in delight at the huge Indian murals that splashed their gay colors across the walls. And the draperies-hand-woven lengths of soft alpaca yarn that reached from floor to dark-beamed arched doorways. Broad white bands alternated with slashes of bold magenta, gold, green, crimson.

"Those I must have," she announced.

Mac made a play of taking out his penknife. "Your wish is my command. Always wondered what the Huancayo jail was like."

Arlene grabbed his arm, and the others laughed.

"You're safe, Mac," Mary said. "I know where you can buy the stuff by the yard. Come on."

The men waved them off. They'd sit out the shopping tour with a cup of coffee on the hotel verandah. So the two girls hurried across the plaza alone, past the inevitable postcard photographers to the street of booths. Among the throng of brown faces Arlene saw a good sprinkling of American tourists who had probably come up from Lima for market day by bus or train. But she had no time to talk to them. Too much else to see. Bright-striped ponchos piled waist high. Fur rugs, woven rugs. Bright-hued billowing skirts hung to the ridgepole like bunches of hot peppers. Knitted tassel caps, mittens, scarves, belts. Adorable furry toy llamas, all sizes. White alpaca-fur bedroom slippers.

"Those I must have," Arlene said, and in a few minutes Mary was helping her dicker for them, working the price down centavo by centavo, and before she finished the deal Arlene had added quite a few other purchases as well, stuffing them all into the flour sack Mary had provided as shopping bag.

"Here, I'll carry that," Mac said, coming up to join her. Bud took over Mary's, and the four went on together.

"Gosh," Arlene said, "I don't see how you had the nerve to get the price down like that. It's almost like begging."

"Heck, no," Mac said, gray eyes twinkling. "That's half the fun. These people feel cheated if you don't dicker. They ask twice as much as they expect to get to start with, anyway."

"Oh, look," Arlene cried out, pointing to a row of pottery bulls, each one with lolling tongue and roving eyes and a looped tail swished up over its back, decorated with fantastic patterns of brown and green swirls. "Those I must have. Can't you just see one on either end of the Bull Pen mantel?"

"No black ones," Mac said pointedly.

"Black!" Arlene started to say, and then found herself blushing again. If Mac didn't stop this teasing, everyone in camp would think she was interested in Blackwell Koch. She gave him a reproachful look and then laughed in spite of herself at the impish amusement in his gray eyes. "You," she said. "Let's see how good you are at dickering. Talk me up a real bargain."

Afterward Mac suggested that they look for a record shop. Not likely to find any hit songs from the top forty, but there would be Argentine tangos, the folk songs and dances of the Andes, and the popular records of Yma Sumac, he told her, and Arlene was more than ready to go. As she was sorting through the sambas and rumbas she suddenly exclaimed, "Look! The Peruvian national anthem."

"That you must have," he mimicked, grinning. "I can tell by the look in your eye."

The next stop was the fruit and vegetable market. Arlene contented herself with a few bananas and oranges, but Mary stocked up on lemons, pineapples, tomatoes, avocados-called paltas, in Peru, Arlene discovered-fresh corn on the cob, and other good things that would be much less fresh and much more expensive by the time they were hauled by truck to Tambomina. At the end of the lengthy dickering the market woman added a small tomato and an overripe palta.

"Yapa," she said, nodding and beaming.

"Yapa?" Arlene asked as they turned away. "What's that?"

"Sort of a goodwill gift," Mary said. "Sort of seals the bargain. Be sure you get a yapa, or they'll think you don't know how to dicker."

"I don't," Arlene admitted ruefully.

"You'll learn," Mac said comfortably, and as their eyes met, Arlene found herself wondering why it was so pleasant and easy to talk to Mac and so difficult to be herself with Blacky Koch.

After they had arrived back at the camp from shopping, Arlene asked Mac if he wouldn't be so kind as to walk her back to her quarters. He agreed, and they walked arm in arm, enjoying the cool evening air while watching the stars come out.

They became so involved talking and enjoying one another's company that Arlene hardly noticed when they walked past her building and toward the hospital.

"Wait a minute, Mac," she said, stopping and releasing his arm. "We've gone too far. I've got to get back to get ready for class tomorrow."

"But I thought you might want to... ah, to see some of... the hospital."

Looking at him with a sudden expression of seriousness, Arlene then kissed him lightly on the cheek.

"Oh, Mac," she sighed. "I don't see why we should have to play games like this. "I've had a really wonderful day. And yes, I would like to spend some time alone with you this evening." Then winking, she said, "We can see the hospital some other time."

A few minutes later, they were up in his private room sharing some of his brandy. He got a fire going and then joined Arlene on the couch.

"You know, it gets terribly lonely up here sometimes, being a single man and all," he said, putting his arm around her.

"You know, Mac, this might sound funny, but I get lonely up here, too. I mean, even though I've got all these guys chasing after me, I still feel lonely. Probably because I haven't found anyone I can really feel comfortable with. Someone I can talk to." But when Mac took her in his arms, they both knew that they had talked enough. They had gone beyond words, and now it was time for a more subtle yet more fulfilling form of communication.

Mac got up and then took Arlene's hand. He led her into the bedroom. While he sat on the edge of the bed, she took off her dress, peeling it down slowly to give Mac a tantalizing view of her delicious curves.

When she was naked, she rushed over to the bed and helped him get his pants off. When she had found his hard cock, she stroked it lovingly, enjoying the silky feel of his prickshaft and the softness of his wrinkled scrotum.

"It's been so long," she murmured. "I really need this, Mac. And because it's with you, that's going to make it all the better. Mmmmmm."

Easing her onto her back, Mac slipped in beside her and began sucking her breasts. He ran his hands all around her back and then dropped them down to squeeze her full, fleshy buttocks. She groaned and moved closer against him, thrilling to the feel of their naked bodies pressing together tightly.

Digging his fingers into her pliant ass cheeks, Mac pulled her crotch harder against his penis. His thick shaft poked into her belly, and she cried out when she felt the heat from his cocktip burn into her skin.

"That feels so good," she panted, rubbing against him harder, grinding into his crotch with her until their pubic bushes crinkled together.

"Just wait, honey," he whispered, "it's going to get so much better. I can hardly wait, baby. Ohhh, so good."

"Please, Mac, do it to me nice and slow," she begged. "I want it to last, baby. So go slow... yeah... like that."

Mac rubbed the end of his penis against her cuntlips, but discovered that she wasn't quite wet enough. So he slithered down the length of her torso until he was staring at her scrumptious cunt. He licked up and down her slit a few times, enjoying the salty taste of her juices. Then he teased the end of her clitoris with the tip of his tongue.

"Oh, Mac! That's so wonderful!" she squealed. "No one's ever done that to me before. More, Mac! Suck it harder and keep doing it. Please!"

Mac did his best to accommodate her, but his own desires were rapidly overtaking his reason. When he couldn't hold back any longer, he pulled his head out of her crotch and then scooted up between her legs cock first.

"This is going to be so good," Mac groaned as he slipped his cock into her slippery hole. "So damn good... " Within seconds they were thrashing all over the bed, caught up in the intensity of their emotions. They came almost at the same time and then collapsed into one another's arms...

Arlene picked up the school whistle to call the twins for Monday morning classes, but before she reached the door she heard their excited giggles and a loud, "Baa-aa." Chico the black goat-she had forgotten that this was Chico's day to visit. Chico did not seem to think very much of the idea. He had planted his feet in firm protest against mounting the steps, but the twins had a stout grip on each horn and were pulling him along willy-nilly.

"Shut the door quick," Jimsy panted, and Arlene complied.

"It doesn't look as if Chico cares very much about school," she said. "Do you, old boy?" And she gave the animal a friendly rub between the horns. For answer he nudged against her, indicating that having his head scratched was something he liked very much indeed, even if coming to school was not.

Arlene chuckled. "I have a new rhyme for Mother Goose," she said. "The Bradleys had a little goat that followed them to school."

"That doesn't rhyme," Janice said critically.

Arlene had other plans for the day's lessons. But this was too good an opportunity to miss. She firmly believed that even the best of lesson plans could be put aside if something better developed. Motivation was where you found it, and when you found it, a good teacher put it to work.

"We can make it rhyme," she said invitingly. "Who'll be first to tell me a word that rhymes with goat?"

"Boat!" shouted Jimsy.

"Coat!" came Janice in close second.

Arlene was busy writing them on the board, leaving space for more. "Good for you. When we get our rhyme finished you can copy it on good paper and take it home to mother and daddy for a present."

"And draw a picture of Chico to go with it?" Jimsy asked.

"Pictures, of course," Arlene conceded. "And your very best writing. Hang your jackets up now and get ready."

They hurried to obey, and Chico, left to his own devices, nosed about the room till he discovered the electric heater and stood there basking in its warmth, a lock of utter contentment on his bearded black face.

"My," Janice giggled. "Doesn't he look satisfied. I'm going to draw him like that in my picture."

"I'm not," Jimsy disagreed. "I'm going to draw him following the watchman around like a dog. Chico does think he's a dog, Miss Moran. He's never seen another goat. He romps around with the Robertses' dog Rusty and has a good time."

"Not anymore," his twin contradicted. "Ever since he ate up the Shafers' pansies we have to keep him in his pen."

Arlene bit her lip. She did not want trouble with Dot Shafer. "I think Chico is ready to go back to his pen," she suggested. "You can think up more rhymes while you take him back. But hurry, because I have a surprise."

Jimsy jumped up, but Janice did not budge. "Aw," she said, "you just mean Margot Shafer is coming to school. We know that."

"Yes, but I've another surprise you can't guess," Arlene said patiently and tried to look very mysterious.

Persuaded, Janice jumped up and helped her twin escort Chico down the steps. They were back soon with the report of mission accomplished, and with them was Margot Shafer, trembling and out of breath for fear that she was late. A tall child, pale and shy, with long ash-blonde braids that made a subdued contrast to the twins' tousled carrot tops.

Janice took charge before Arlene could do more than smile in welcome. "You have to take that desk, Margot," she directed importantly. "These are ours."

"That's right, Margot," Arlene said gently, her hand on the child's shoulder to soften Janice's bossy tone. Making Margot welcome was more important right now than correcting Janice. "That's the desk we made just for you. Isn't it nice to have a new desk, made just for you?"

Margot's smile flashed warmly in her thin face, and she went happily to her desk.

"How did you start the day in your school in Lima, Margot?" Arlene asked as soon as the girl was seated.

The child stood up quickly to answer, as evidently she had been taught to do. "We sing, Miss Moran," she replied in a sweet, low-pitched voice.

"And that's my surprise!" Arlene exclaimed. "We're going to hear Peru's national anthem."

She turned, brought out the phonograph, and started the disc. The trumpet call rang out, followed by the full burst of orchestra and then the inspiring words: Somos libres, seamoslo siempre...

The twins, who had heard Spanish almost since they were born, could catch most of the words for themselves, but the phrases were long and difficult, so when the music ended Arlene read it over again in English.

We are free, let us stay free always...

Margot's hand was waving wildly. "I know it in English, too," she said when Arlene gave permission to speak. "See-I have the words in both English and Spanish right here in my school song book."

The twins were out of their seats in a flash, craning to see, their faces showing prompt disgruntlement because the words were too hard to read.

"We'll learn it, too," Arlene assured them. "Then we can sing it when we sing our own 'Star-Spangled Banner.' " Jimsy said, "I bet Chico wishes he were free instead of tied up in that old pen."

It was just the bridge she needed to get them back to the lesson they had chosen, and in a few minutes the twins were hard at work drawing Chico's picture, while Arlene talked quietly with Margot to find out her standing. No problem child here, Arlene thought. Why had the Shafers been so reluctant to have her in camp?

CHAPTER NINE

With three pupils to plan for, Arlene was busy. Even the twins needed individual attention at times, and the week flew by. On Saturday morning she was almost tempted to miss breakfast and sleep till noon. Then she remembered that she had promised Alicia to help with decorating the Staff House lounge for the dance, and she threw back the covers with resignation. There was a little decorating job of her own to attend to before Alicia arrived.

She was just finishing as the clock struck ten and Alicia came in, her arms loaded with crepe paper, her little black-braided Indian maid trailing along behind her, almost hidden beneath a big box of lanterns and bunting.

"Hi," Arlene hailed from her perch atop the stepladder. "How do you like my handiwork? I just had to change the expression on that animal's face. As long as I'm pictured as a cow, I'm going to be a contented one."

Alicia looked up, and her wide mouth crinkled into an appreciative grin. On the face of the beribboned heifer there was now a smug smile and a come-hither wink instead of the pout Blacky had caricatured, and a balloon proclaimed its sentiments toward the bullish bachelors: "Moo power to you!"

"Teach, you're a good sport," Alicia approved, and Arlene could only hope that the men would agree.

"Come on," Alicia said, "I promised the twins I'd bring you back for lunch if they wouldn't bother us now."

With willing help from the servants, the room was soon decorated. Arlene went with Alicia, but she made the luncheon visit a short one so that she would have time to nap before the dinner party. Guests from Sierra would be arriving at intervals through the afternoon, and Alicia would see to settling them in at the Wiltons', Shafers', or other houses. Most of the bachelors would be bunking with Tom Roberts, since Anne was still in Lima with the new baby and he had plenty of room. A place in the Bull Pen had been reserved for Arturo, and Bill Payne had offered to look after him.

In spite of her good intentions to nap, Arlene could not really sleep, and she was dressed and ready, giving her silver-blue evening dress another admiring whirl in front of the mirror, when Alicia knocked.

"Nice!" the manager's wife said approvingly. "In fact, beautiful. That blue makes your eyes bluer than ever. Come on and help me get these place cards put around before anyone gets here."

Soon the place cards were all arranged, and a growing hum of voices was coming from the lounge.

"Guess we'd better get in there," Alicia said, and opened the door for Arlene to step through.

The hum stopped instantly. All faces turned toward Arlene as she stood there framed in the dark doorway, the light from the room behind her touching the dark curls like a halo, turning the swirling silver blue to shimmering radiance.

A long, low whistle cut across the moment's silence and warm laughter came reaching out to Arlene in friendly welcome.

"T'loot-t'loot," called out Tom Roberts in fine bugle tones. "La-deez and gen-tel-men. May I present the only single female in the corporation-Miss Arlene Moran!"

There was more laughter and applause, and Tom proffered his arm with flourishing gallantry for a room-circling tour of introductions to the guests from Sierra Mines.

"You did say Miss Moran?" questioned a chubby brown-haired golfer before Tom could present him. "I'm Dave Ainsworth. May I have your hand in marriage?"

"Hell, no," Bill Payne answered for her, stepping up protectively. "You have to be a brother for six weeks, same as the rest of us."

"You receive proposals alphabetically, I hope," Dave insisted with undaunted ardor. "Remember, A for Ainsworth."

Under cover of the wolf howls and teasing that followed, Arlene managed a quick survey of the room. Arturo had said he would be late, but he should surely be here by now. Then as if her thoughts had conjured him out of the air, she saw the door open, and there he was, hat in hand, smiling, his dark eyes searching the room.

"Arturo, here I am." She was across the room in a flash of swirling blue. "Welcome to Tambomina." She managed the introductions quickly, for he already knew most of the group, and then Bill offered to take him to his room to freshen up.

"You haven't got soroche?" Arlene asked solicitously, putting a detaining hand on his arm.

Arturo answered with the same flashing smile she had first seen as their plane left Miami.

"Not I. I know this Hill and the tricks it plays on you. I came up yesterday and stayed with friends in Oroya. I had a little business to do for Father there anyhow. You did not think I was going to risk soroche when there was a girl as pretty as you to dance with?"

Bill Payne took charge. "Don't answer that, Arlene. This way, senor."

Somebody had started the juke box, and Dave was tugging at Arlene's elbow. "A for Ainsworth," he reminded her. "My dance."

Arlene smiled a farewell at Arturo across the chubby golfer's head. "Hurry back," she told him, and then whirled off in her partner's arms. As they danced close to the corner where Dot Stopfer was talking to Beth Marston, wife of the Sierra manager, Arlene caught a few words on Dot's spice-tipped tongue: They were together in Lima, you know-" She did not have to ask who "they" were or see Dot's face to know that a lifted eyebrow was adding suggestive comment to the words. Arlene flushed and glanced to see if Dave had understood, but he was dancing with eyes half closed, his chubby face a picture of happy oblivion. Arlene sighed in relief. For herself, she could stand it, but if Arturo ever knew what gossip was starting...

Dave opened his eyes now and with a drawling "Here we go, beautiful," began to whirl her around to match the music's quickened tempo. As she turned, Arlene found Beth Marston's dark eyes on her with frank and friendly gaze. Somehow Arlene felt reassured that Dot's malicious innuendo had been ignored.

The music crashed to a stop, and Arlene saw that they were beside the bar, where a grinning Juanito stood ready to serve.

"Want a drink?" Dave asked amicably, reaching for a cocktail.

Arlene had her mouth open to refuse when Tom Roberts was suddenly beside her, glass in hand. "Sister Arlene takes a tall one," he said quickly, thrusting a glass into Arlene's hand. She had to take it or let it crash to the floor, and she flashed Tom an indignant look.

"Well, then, salud," Dave said, lifting his glass to hers. "Salud. Your health, beautiful."

Tom leaned close to whisper in Arlene's ear. "Drink it. Just ginger ale."

Arlene took an experimental sip and smiled back at Tom in relief. It was just ginger ale, but no one could tell it from the gin-and-ginger-ale that was a favorite Hill drink.

Dave took elaborate farewell and went off for a "duty dance" with Alicia. Arturo was coming toward her now, and with a salute Tom moved off across the room.

"One ahead of me, eh?" Arturo said, looking significantly at the glass in Arlene's hand. He turned to the bar, picked up one of the martini glasses filled and waiting, then turned to click it gallantly with hers. "Your health," he smiled. "Or do you want a toast in Spanish: Salud, pesetas, amory tiempo para gozarlos!"

Arlene translated for herself. "Health, money and love-"

"And time to enjoy them," Arturo finished for her, putting down the drained glass. "Shall we take the proverb's advice and not waste any more time?" He led her onto the dance floor, and Arlene felt the instant magic of rhythm and flowing movement communicated by the touch of his hand on hers, his encircling arm. She looked up and saw his dark eyes sparking with delighted recognition as her body followed his in perfect union. It was like effortless flying, like drifting on a cloud.

He leaned down for a brief whisper. "I knew the first time I saw you that we would dance like this."

But they were not allowed to dance together for long. Every man there wanted a chance to get acquainted with the new teacher, and Arlene went breathlessly from one partner to another, till at last she had to beg for the merciful privilege of sitting out at least one dance. She had sense enough to know that she had not suddenly become a raving beauty, but all this flattery and attention made her feel like one. Being the only single girl for miles around was a very exciting experience. Like the extra tomato and palta that the market woman had given Mary Wilton, this was a yapa she had not bargained for. A wonderful yapa.

"Choose partners," Dot Shafer announced. Somehow she had taken over Alicia's responsibility for passing out the clipped half-circles that Arlene had prepared for matching partners at dinner.

Arturo came promptly to take Arlene's arm, but Dot was at his side in a flash, holding out the plate of snipped papers. "Gentleman's choice," she invited slyly, holding the plate so that he was almost forced to take the snipped half she edged toward him. "Can I hope it's the lucky one?" he asked, holding it to the one Arlene had drawn. "Do they match?"

They did not, as Arlene had already guessed. Dot Shafer had maneuvered to get the wealthy young Peruvian for her own partner, she was quite sure.

"I'm sorry," Arlene said honestly. She realized now that she had asked Arturo mainly to prove to the bachelors that she didn't have to chase a man to get masculine attention, but now she knew that she would ask him again just because she liked to be with him.

Arturo accepted his fate with polite good humor, and they both joined the search for a partner.

"How about it, young lady?" came an unfamiliar voice over her shoulder, and Arlene turned to see Gilbert Marston, the tall white-haired Sierra manager and golf champion. The pieces of their two halves fitted, notch for notch, and she accepted his arm.

"I enjoyed talking to your wife a while ago," Arlene said as they found their places, and began to wonder what on earth she could talk to him about all through dinner.

She needn't have worried, she found out a few moments later. Gilbert Marston had taken it for granted that as a teacher she was interested in hearing about his own children-two boys and a girl. She scarcely had time to answer him when she was caught up in a shower of congratulations for the clever place cards, as Alicia smilingly passed on the credit.

"Say," Marston interrupted, "maybe I'm in the wrong place. I didn't stop to think that this golf club thingamajig might be for Doc. He's high scorer here."

Arlene shook her head. "This is yours. Mac has a big bottle of medicine labeled 'Nasty Stuff.' His card's down at the end because he'll be late. He had to stay at the hospital, as usual."

"Hmm," the manager said. "As usual?" And he gave her the same speculative glance she had seen so often on the faces of the women. "So you keep tabs on Doc, eh?"

Arlene felt the blush coming with her annoyance at the prying question. Was everybody on the Hill trying to pair her off? She looked away and found her glance meeting Arturo's. He lifted his glass in salute. "To your bright eyes," he said, and brought the glass to his lips.

She lifted her own glass in return.

"Uh-oh," Marston chuckled. "I forgot about him."

"Nobody else had," Arlene said with rueful frankness. There wasn't a pair of eyes at the table that had missed that friendly interchange. She had an idea that such a toast was only gallant Peruvian custom, but no one else would be likely to take it that way.

There was more dancing after dinner, and Arturo claimed more than his share to make up for being separated at dinner. For some reason the others seemed now to grant him special privilege. Just why, Arlene was not sure. In the excited rush before dinner she had not really noticed that Blacky had not danced with her, or at least she had simply thought that he hadn't had a chance. Now it was obvious that he was not going to ask her. Or anyone. He was sitting glowering in a corner by the bar, giving Jim Bradley a dark look whenever the manager's back was turned.

Nick, catching Arlene's questioning frown, made stammering explanation. "Bradley told him off. About the other night."

And as Arlene still looked perplexed he added, "You know. For roping you in on our celebration for Junior."

Arlene's lips tightened. Would Jim Bradley ever stop interfering? Making her out a prude and spoilsport? He was general manager. She couldn't order him to mind his own business. Besides, he thought he was acting for her good.

"I had nothing to do with it," Arlene said. "You tell Blacky that, will you?"

"Me? Tell him? You want to get me rubbed out, doll?" His cherub's face was indignant.

"Last dance," someone called before Arlene could answer. She looked at her watch. Nearly two o'clock. With the golf matches scheduled for early morning, no wonder the players wanted to get some rest. She found Arturo tapping Nick's shoulder with a polite reminder. "Last dance is my dance."

By the time the music stopped, nearly all the others had already gone, and Arlene and Arturo had the floor to themselves. They finished in a delirious sequence of whirling circles from one end of the room to the other and stood there, trying to catch their breath, laughing, happy.

"May I see you home?" Arturo said, regaining composure.

Arlene twinkled up at him. "You already have. I live here."

He glanced across at the bachelors' wing with the seven bulls and beribboned heifer over the door, and his face was a study of amazed comprehension and incredulity.

Arlene turned him about face and pointed to her own door. "In there," she said. "And there's a very good bolt on my side, in case you're wondering about that."

He was looking relieved, embarrassed, horrified all at the same time, and Arlene realized that in spite of his four years at college in the States he had not acquired Yankee frankness. But he had talent, acquired or instinctive, for covering up a blunder.

"You mean you have no balcony?" he demanded with exaggerated concern. "How can I serenade you without a balcony?"

Arlene pulled a high-backed chair in front of her. "Balcony," she said.

He flung out his arms as if clasping an imaginary guitar and began strumming invisible strings. "Ai-yai-yai-yai. Canta y no llores. Porque cantando-"

"Oh, Arturo," she said, cutting him off. "That's wonderful. But I don't want you to wake everyone else up. Here, come into my room and finish. It's okay. I really want to hear the rest of your song."

"But my darling," he said. "Are you sure that's proper? I mean, after all, this is our first date. And... " But Arlene didn't want to hear any more of his protests. She gathered him in her arms and then whisked him into her room, bolting the door behind her securely.

"There," she said, breathing loudly, "now even if they do hear us, they can't come in."

"Now, ahem, you would like me to finish my song?" Arturo asked nervously.

Arlene looked at him, amused. She thought it was funny that he had suddenly become unstrung like this. But she had heard so much about Peruvian men, about their prowess in the bedroom. She only hoped he got over his nervousness when she needed him the most.

"There, darling," she cooed, "I've been waiting for this all day. Ever since I first met you on the plane I wanted to be alone with you."

"Yes, it is true," Arturo announced, pulling her close and smiling at her. "It's true what they say about American women. Ever since women's lib they are so... so... "

"And now show me how the Peruvian men are," she said softly, looking down at the hard bulge in his trousers. "I've heard so much, and now I can hardly wait to find out."

Arturo picked her up and carried her to the bed. She landed, still sighing, looking up at him with desire gleaming in her eyes. His eyes met hers, and for a moment she felt almost hypnotized by his urgent stare. She began tearing off her clothes swiftly as if receiving a telepathic command.

When they were both naked, Arturo joined her on the bed. He immediately went for her breasts, squeezing them and licking her nipples lightly.

"Your skin is so fresh and so... so white. It is lovely. Oh, never have I seen skin like this. So fair, so wonderful. Mmmmmm!"

Arlene didn't want to tell him, but she had never seen a penis as large as Arturo's before, either. She marveled at the way it throbbed against her thigh. And she could hardly wait to feel it pumping into her cunt, driving her toward an exquisite release.

"All day I've been dreaming of this moment," he said, still chewing gently on her titflesh. "Each time I looked at you I imagined us sharing a bed and succumbing to our desires. And I never dreamed it could be this good. Oh, Arlene, you are such a beautiful woman."

In response, she reached down and tried to stroke the shaft of his cock. But he pulled back at the last second.

"I'm sorry, but the women in our country, they do not... they... but... "

"I'm sorry, Arturo, dear, but I'm not a woman from your country," she announced. "If I want to touch you there, then I'm going to touch you there."

Arturo sighed deeply as she began stroking his foreskin up and down. He gave in to her caresses and allowed himself the full enjoyment of her touch.

Arlene felt a sudden feeling of power over this man, power derived from being able to do what she pleased with him. She knew that he would give in easily, once his useless customs were dashed to pieces and he let himself enjoy the purity of their combined lust.

"Now I'm going to suck you," she said evenly, moving down the length of his body, licking him and nipping at his flesh.

Arturo was beyond resisting now. And he easily gave in to what he for so long had considered as taboo-a blowjob.

Taking the head of his hot cock into her mouth, Arlene sucked in until her cheeks collapsed. Then she worked her tongue over his pricktip, trying to lap up the bubbles of pre-cum that were oozing out slowly.

She wanted him to come in her mouth. She wanted him to have one small ecstasy before he fucked her. Because she wanted him to last as long as possible once they started fucking. And she knew that if she drained his balls first, that after his cock got hard a second time he would be able to stay hard until she experienced as many orgasms as she needed to keep her satisfied.

He groaned loudly and then shot his load down her throat. She swallowed it eagerly, all the while thinking about how good it would be later when he was inside her pussy, reaming her out with his huge prick.

As he lay back on the bed trying to catch his breath, Arlene played with his soft cock, trying to work it back into hardness. As she watched it grow, she felt her pussy become hotter and wetter. And when she finally got him hard again, she thought she was going to come just thinking about getting fucked.

When she spread her legs for him, Arturo needed no second invitation. Before the night had ended, Arlene had come four times.

* * *

Next morning the wind on the golf course blew cold, but the sun promised comforting warmth by noonday, and the golfers followed from tee to tee, chafing each other good-naturedly. Back at the clubhouse the nonplayers came straggling in after a late morning sleep. Having missed breakfast, they were ravenous for lunch and Dorothy soon had a tempting array of dishes spread out on the buffet. Meat loaf, creamed chicken on biscuits, two or three kinds of salads, hot rolls and cornbread, plenty of pickles and olives, half a dozen cakes and several pies. The wives of Tambomina were proud of their reputation as good cooks, and Arlene was sorry that she hadn't had a chance to bake something, too, especially when she saw Arturo's appreciative appetite.

The golfers were finishing their game now and were hungry as wolves. Mac was over in the corner adding up the scores while the others gathered around the buffet, heaping their plates with double servings and kidding each other about the morning's play.

"Hey, everybody-here's the dope," Mac called out at last. "Best score, individual -Gilbert Marston. Best team-Tambomina."

There was a round of applause, and everybody began toasting the winners with lifted glass of the foamy, ice-cold beer fresh-drawn from the big barrel in the corner.

"Oh," Arturo said, suddenly noticing that Arlene did not have a glass. "Forgive me. I didn't notice. Here, wait-" Arlene shook her head. "Please, no," she refused and then frantically searched her brain for something that would take away the prudishness from such bald refusal.

But Arturo, without even a hint of surprise, said, "A Coke, then?"

Arlene accepted gratefully.

There was a surprised chorus of voices greeting some late arrival, and Arlene turned to see Tony Graves standing in the doorway. He was calling back in answering greeting, shaking outstretched hands, then suddenly he spied Arlene.

"La profesora!" he exclaimed, bounding across the room to her.

Without warning Arlene found herself swooped up for a hug, whirled about, and set down on her feet with Tony's arm still around her just as Arturo returned with her Coca-Cola. The two men greeted each other stiffly.

"Heard you were here," Tony said. "Word gets around."

"So do you," was Arturo's cool rejoinder.

Arlene removed herself from Tony's embrace, smiling self-consciously. She was saved from further embarrassment by the prompt appearance of Dorothy at Tony's elbow with a heaping plateful.

"You didn't even see little old me," she pouted up at him coyly. "But I'll take care of you just the same. I've saved you a place at the corner table."

Tony was too well-mannered-or too hungry-not to go along, and Arlene was left alone with Arturo. At least, she thought with a wry face, as alone as two people can be when everyone else in the room is watching them as avidly as if they were on a TV melodrama.

Arturo looked down at her, smiling. "A penny for your thoughts," he said. "Isn't that what you say when a pretty girl gets a faraway look in her eyes?"

"Do I look faraway?"

"You looked sad-and I hope that means you are sad because I'm leaving."

"Right now?"

Arlene's voice showed surprise, and Arturo beamed. "You sound disappointed. I'm glad to hear it. But still, I must go. Tomorrow I must take the plane from Lima to Arequipa and Cuzco to look at our properties there. But when I return I will ask my mother to invite you and the seflora Bradley to be our guests so I can show you our city of flowers. You will come?"

"I'd love to," Arlene answered.

He touched her hand lightly. "I'll be back in a minute," he smiled, and turned to begin the round of formal hand-shaking and personal farewells that Peruvian good manners required. When he came back, he asked Arlene to walk with him to his car. She consented, still feeling like a TV serial, and very much aware of the watching eyes.

Arturo was aware of them, too. He stood with one hand on the car door and gave an unobtrusive gesture toward the audience on the golf club verandah. "Too much audience-or I'd show you an old Spanish custom. The farewell kiss. Ever hear of it?"

"It's an old American custom, too," Arlene said with a demure sweep of dark lashes. "Usually most effective in the full of the moon."

The corners of his mouth quirked in an appreciative smile. "The situation seems to call for another American custom-the rain-check. Do I get one?"

"Depends on the moon," Arlene told him, and with a quick raise of black brows and a squeeze of her hand he got in the car and drove away.

Tony came to meet her. "Don't you admire my gallantry? Letting you bid my rival farewell unchaperoned?"

"Unchaperoned!" Arlene exclaimed, with an involuntary sweeping look at the frankly watching audience. She had not meant to say it loud enough for them to hear, but the outburst of answering laughter was instant proof that they were enjoying the show as rightful family privilege.

CHAPTER TEN

Surprisingly, as the days went by, Arlene found the after-school tea times at the Shafers' leading to a growing friendship with the unpredictable Dot, and with Wayne, too, who usually came home before she left. Mary Wilton and Alicia had also given Arlene a standing invitation to tea, since Arlene had made it clear that she preferred not to intrude on the Bull Pen's after-work snack hour. That was the time for the men to relax, get through their stories and shop talk. When she didn't feel like going out, Arlene asked Juanito to serve her tea in her own sitting room by the fire, and he seemed happy to please her. Pablo the cook often put special treats on her tray that she was sure the men did not get, a special favor she appreciated, for she found it hard to wait for the late seven o'clock dinner hour.

She had plenty of dinner invitations, too, especially on weekends, usually with one of the bachelors-invited in careful rotation-as her date. Blacky had his turn with the rest, and Arlene was too smart to ask to have him as her partner more often. If he ever got the idea she was chasing him, he'd be as skittish as a wildcat. So now when Mary Wilton asked if she had any preference as dinner date, Arlene shrugged.

"What about Mac?" she said, thinking how often he missed out on dinner parties because his work kept him at the hospital. Even if he didn't have an emergency patient he was always getting tied up in some discussion about sanitation or health safety, working on his goal of lower infant death rate.

"You know Mac doesn't care about dinner parties," Mary said. "That old witch of an Indian he had cooking for him spoils him. Keeps food hot for him, night and day, till Mac doesn't know what it means to eat on time. Now, if you just played bridge, maybe he'd come. He thinks bridge is the world's best cure for Hill-itis. Want to learn?"

Arlene accepted eagerly. "I'm willing to learn if you've got the patience to teach me." Mary had the cards out before she could change her mind.

Much to her own surprise, Arlene proved an apt pupil, as all the girls agreed, but no one had invited Mac to be her partner as yet. Evidently they had forgotten, and Arlene was annoyed that they were so prone to accept him only as "Doc"--not an individual. Just as she was "Teach." Tonight the Shafers had invited her for dinner and had not even bothered to provide a companion.

Arlene walked along briskly against the cold wind that was blowing down from the mountains, threatening rain or snow. She didn't mind walking alone, for the camp was well lighted and there was always a watchman on duty at the gate and another making the rounds of the walled camp, but it would be more fun to have a foursome.

Once inside the Shafer home, however, Arlene was very glad that no one else was there. Wayne was in a vile temper, and Dorothy was little better. Arlene ate her meal to an accompaniment of complaints and sickening awareness of Margot's unhappy trembling.

"Well," Wayne said now, summing up his disgust at the way his requests for new equipment were shoved aside. "That's big business for you. All they care about is profits for the stockholders. They don't care if we stagger along sweating our guts out with old-fashioned machinery, just as long as they get their dividends. If you know anything about big business, you'd understand what I'm talking about."

"I do already," Arlene said, and for the first time since coming to Tambomina she told her story of the Eastside Realty Company, with Dot and Wayne nodding confirmation at every word.

"I don't see why Wayne puts up with it," Dot said bitterly. "I've told him again and again he should quit if the company doesn't give him what he asks."

"And I've told you I can't afford to quit," Wayne snapped back. "If I quit, I have to pay fare back to the States for the three of us-out of my own pocket-and where would I get the money for that-with an extravagant wife like you?"

"Well, then, get yourself fired," Dot shot back at him, too excited to remember that both Arlene and Margot were present. Arlene gave the child a quick glance. She was white, tense, her troubled face giving mute testimony that this was an old quarrel. Arlene tried to cover up by reaching for another biscuit but could not avoid hearing the last of Dot's tirade.

"I can think of a way to get us fired," she was saying viciously, "If you weren't so lily-livered."

"None of that now," Wayne said quickly, with a warning glance at Margot, and Dot subsided, leaving him to restore some semblance of polite table talk as best he could.

Arlene rallied to help him by asking if she could take a trip through the mill some Saturday to see how the ore was treated. She had asked to go underground, and been refused. Superstition on the Hill-in fact, in almost any mining country-decreed that women were bad luck underground.

"Sure," Wayne agreed. "I'll take you. Wear old clothes, though."

"Ugh!" Dorothy shuddered. "I wouldn't go near the place. Just look at that filthy mess that piles up outside the door. The what-do-you-callems? Tailings. Nearly as high as the mill. Gooky, gray, slimy stuff!"

Wayne ignored her with forebearing patience. "It has to pile up," he explained for Arlene's benefit. "What else can we do with it? It's a waste product, just like sawdust-or apple peelings. We keep it stacked behind that dam so it won't slide down into the river and contaminate the water."

Arlene nodded. She remembered what the men had said at the time of the earthquake. If the tailings ever got into the river, there'd be trouble.

"Any more danger of their slipping?" she asked, hoping that this would be a safe topic.

Wayne shook his head. "Not for another year or so. But the pile's big enough to do real damage if it ever lets go. I've asked for new equipment so we can carry it across the river and start a new dump, but so far the dear penny-pinching company hasn't seen fit to grant my request. I tried to get Tony to go straight to the New York office about it, but he said it wasn't his department." , "Well, he is in public relations, not the mill," Arlene said defensively.

Dot laughed. "Wayne, you forget that Tony is a mighty handsome hombre. And single. You can't expect Arlene to let you say anything against him."

"Oh, Tony's just a friend." Arlene rose to the bait in quick protest, and in the teasing that followed, all ill feeling over big business seemed to have dropped from their minds.

"Don't forget our bridge game at Mary's Saturday morning," Dot reminded her as she made ready to leave. "You study that book I gave you."

Arlene promised, but somehow Saturday came and she had not had a chance to study. She gave the rules a quick once-over before leaving for the Wiltons' and hurried out. As she had guessed, the others were waiting. The cards were dealt out, and Dot and Alicia were in their places, knitting as they waited. Mary was missing, and now Arlene heard her voice in the bedroom, followed by Mac's slow drawl.

"Is Bibsy sick?" Arlene asked.

"Only a cold," Alicia said reassuringly. "But Mary called Doc just to be sure. You can't be too careful in this altitude."

Mac and Mary came out together now, and Mary's face showed that the diagnosis had not been serious.

"Nothing to worry about," Mac said. "Keep her in bed today, that's all. Go on with your game, gals, and I'll kibitz. The hospital won't disintegrate if I take five."

He pulled up a chair at Arlene's elbow, and Mary said, "I told you Doc was a bridge hound."

Alicia bid a quick one diamond, Dorothy passed, and it was Arlene's turn. She checked the count again to make sure. Honor count of four justified a jump bid. She took a deep breath. "Two spades."

Mary raised her eyebrows at Arlene's jump and said, "Pass."

Alicia gave Arlene a pointed look. "Four no trump, partner."

Arlene swallowed. That was what the book called the Blackwood Convention bid, and it was a special signal that required a certain response. But just what that response was she could not remember, for her very life. She shuffled her cards nervously, feeling very much aware of Mac's presence at her shoulder and hating to have him see her in such a childish predicament.

"We say five hearts," came Mac's cool answer, and the minute he spoke memory came flooding back to her. Alicia's bid had asked for a report on the number of aces in her hand, and Mac's bid of hearts meant she held two.

"Five hearts," she repeated in confirmation.

They made a little slam, and Mac gave Arlene an approving pat on the shoulder. "Atta girl. That's showing them. Now if the rest of you want to see some really good playing, just challenge Arlene and me. We'll stand against any of you, won't we, Teach?"

"We can try," Arlene said, pleased that he thought her good enough.

Alicia was the first to pick up the offer. "Jim and I will take you on tonight," she said. "It's Saturday, so Jim won't be worrying about getting up tomorrow, and we'll make a night of it."

Mac got up, one hand on Arlene's shoulder.

"It's a date. I'll stop by for you, Teach."

He went out whistling, and Mary said, "I'm ashamed of myself for not making more of an effort to get Mac in on a bridge game. But it's such a nuisance when he's late or has to leave in the middle of a round because some Indian woman's having a baby. And it's a bother trying to find a partner for him, too. The fellows at the Bull Pen would rather play poker."

Dinner at the Bradleys' that night was finished early, and while Arlene went with Alicia to get the twins settled for the night, Mac and Jim were left to set up the card table in front of the fireplace, and everything was ready by the time the girls came back.

"I'm glad you wore green," Mac said as he held Arlene's chair. "Green is my lucky color."

She smiled up at him, "Begorra, and so it is mine."

Jim looked across at his wife with mock seriousness. "Lish, my pet, go put on a rainbow. I don't know what my lucky color is, but a rainbow ought to take care of it. We can't let these two fugitives from the Ould Sod get the edge on us."

She laughed and held up a striped handkerchief. "Will this do?"

"But perfect! Might have known you'd be there with the mostest."

"One heart, partner," Mac's voice rang out, and Arlene concentrated on remembering the newly learned rules.

Outside, the rain was pouring down, pelting against the windowpanes with a steady, rhythmic beat. Inside, there was warmth and cheer from the fire and even more comforting warmth of friendship. Arlene felt relaxed, happy. Perhaps Mac was right that bridge was a cure for Hill-itis, for tension and worries and what's-the-use blues.

It was the fourth round and the score was nearly even when the phone rang insistently. Jim pushed back his chair with a frown of resignation.

Alicia said, "Oh, not now! Something's wrong at the mine, I suppose. They never give a ring like that at night unless it's urgent."

Mac had put down his cards at the first pealing summons and sat there, head cocked toward the study, as Jim picked up the phone. He looked over at Arlene. "Might be for me," he told her. "There wasn't anything serious charted when I left, but you never know."

Arlene nodded understandingly. She knew very well just how unpredictable a doctor's evening could be.

Jim's voice rose from a murmur to sudden excitement. "Oh, hell, Wayne no! How much? Well, we can blast and head it off. I'll be right over. Get Central to call the crews out pronto."

Call the crews out. The three looked at each other. Even Arlene knew that meant the trouble was serious.

Jim came striding back through the living room on the way to the bedroom, peeling off his coat as he moved.

"Tailings dam," he said to them. "And Wayne's afraid that it'll break."

He was across the room, and the slamming bedroom door cut off the rest of the sentence. But they had heard enough.

With a swift word of apology, Alicia got up and went hurrying after her husband. Mac looked across at Arlene, shrugged, and shoved the cards together. She took them from him and began putting them back in the case. Mac pushed back his chair and headed for the hall, where he had left his coat. "Might mean work for me," he said. "I'll get along to the hospital. Sorry, Arlene. Maybe we'll have better luck next time. That is, if you are willing to try again."

He was giving her that searching doctor's look, gray eyes troubled, but he brightened as Arlene answered cheerfully, "Of course I'm willing. I'm the one person who doesn't need explanations why doctors don't finish card games. Anyway, we had fun while it lasted."

He was about to say something more, but Jim came out in high boots and mackinaw, and the two made brief farewells and went out together into the pelting rain.

Alicia stood for a moment watching them in silence, then turned back to Arlene with a sigh of resignation. "Guess I'll go put on some water for coffee. You and I can have some now, and it'll be ready for Jim when he comes back-whenever that may be."

Arlene detected a strange edge to Alicia's voice. It was almost as if the young wife didn't expect her husband to return at all. Despite the fact that it was warm in the room, Arlene shivered uncomfortably.

The two women sat in the room in silence, almost as if they were afraid to speak. The only sounds in the room were the noises of coffee being slurped. And outside the wind began howling and the rain became more intense as if hammered into the roof.

When the phone rang, the two women jumped up as if they had been shocked. Alicia answered, and before she even said one word her face turned white. She then limply held out the phone to Arlene.

Mac's voice sounded far away on the other end of the line as he spoke to Arlene. "You've got to get over here, to the hospital, right away. We need all the help we can get. This is the worst mining disaster I've ever-" And then the phone went dead.

When Arlene arrived at the hospital, it was a flurry of activity. Nurses were running everywhere. Men were hobbling about. Children were crying and screaming. It took Arlene some time to find Mac, and when she did she almost didn't recognize him. He had been working so hard trying to repair the injured and save the dying that he looked years older, haggard, his eyes sunk back into his head.

Two days later, after things had settled down, the American-Peruvian Exploration Company was sad to announce that more than two thirds of its crew had been killed in the recent disaster, and many more men were injured who would not be able to work for some time. Arlene and Mac took the news as hard as anyone. They had worked themselves to the bone in the hospital, doing everything they could, and the only solace they found was in the knowledge that they had done their best.

Relaxing in Lima at a nice comfortable restaurant, trying their best to continue on in the wake of the recent tragedy, they spoke to one another quietly.

"I feel much closer to you now," Mac said, reaching out to hold her hand. "I know this sounds selfish, considering we lost most of our friends at the mine, but we did come out of it... well, we are... "

"I know what you mean, Mac," she said, squeezing his hand tightly. "And I think I feel the same way. Mac, I want you to believe me when I say I love you."

He leaned over to kiss her and then wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "And Arlene, I love you, too. That's why it hurts when I tell you that I have to stay here. I want to stay here and help the company get on its feet again. Do you understand that? You'll think about me, won't you? You'll write to me?"

Arlene smiled. "Mac, if I was leaving you know I'd do all those things."

"If?"

"That's right, Mac. I'm going to stay right here with you, to be at your side."

"But Arlene," he said, surprised, "I just took it for granted that you'd be going over, to try and start over and get your life back together. But you want to stay. That's wonderful."

Holding him close and snuggling her cheek against his shoulder, Arlene knew she would never leave Mac-no matter where they were or no matter what happened.

If they could survive the Tambomina disaster together, they could survive anything together. She knew their love was that strong.

THE END
In Between Arlene ....(72k)    by Y.R. Uhere




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