The lonely newly wedded bride has been the topic of several of the Liverpool Library's recent publications and the editorial staff was at first hesitant to accept the present novel.
But, after they had read and studied the first several chapters, there was no longer any doubt that the book should be accepted for publication, en toto, even though the plot line has seen a thousand presses. There is a certain warmth and sympathy that pervades Mr.
Symonette's writings that have not quite been reached by others of this publishing era. He approaches the story as though he were going to say something that has been said many times before, but... it takes the reader only a matter of minutes to conclude that this is not going to be the same.
Author Symonette masterfully takes the plot of a young newly married girl, who like many others of this generation, loses her husband almost immediately to the service. She is, of course, lost. She has always had someone to depend on and now there is, in a matter of moments, no one. Being beautiful and young, contrary to what most would think, is also a part of her downfall. For every person who would help her, there are a thousand who would take lecherous advantage of her youth and beauty and drag her down to the depths of filth and degradation with them and their own weaknesses. How the young girl learns to cope with this may not be the ideal solution, and to some may seem capitulation to those who have used her so ruthlessly, but it is an adjustment. If one does not adjust, then one either dies or goes insane. It is the old principle of "doing anything, is better than doing nothing, even if it's wrong."
But she does survive, and we the publishers feel that considering the circumstances under which she is laboring, this in itself, is a miracle. We hope you the reader can glean the same understanding and hope from it that we have.
-The Publishers
CHAPTER ONE
"Ordering... three tall water - make one Scotch, two martys - one up and one over, and two Marys - make one a virgin." The sing-song litany had barely evaporated in the smoke spiraled air before it was picked up along the bar.
"I'll take that last one, Tom, just be sure you put a cherry in it!"
The ribald remark brought the required guffaw of applause from the bartender, though by one o'clock in the morning it had a weary tinge. Geesus, he groaned inwardly as his deft fingers mechanically mixed the drinks, can't these jerks ever come up with something new?
The cocktail girl at the service section forced a more spontaneous note to her echoing giggle for the would-be comedian was a large tipper.
"I'm sure you don't have any trouble getting all you want, Mr. Jenkins," she breathed in his ear as she brushed by him with the loaded tray and allowed one free-swinging breasts to graze his shoulder. That should be good for another buck or two next time I get the old bastard at my station, she thought.
The disdained Mr. Jenkins, president of a giant automotive plant near by, could have bought and sold all of Jack's Cabin Inn including the hired help. But perched on a high stool with his elbows on the mahogany bar, flush-faced, slack-mouthed and slightly glazed of eye, he was just another dreary Saturday night bore to the brassy waitress.
His prototype could be spotted scattered around the room in the dense, table hopping mass of celebrants. They were part of the thank-God-it's-Saturday crowd mixed in with visiting tourists and their hosts, the lesser celebrities of sports and screen, and the fashionable crowd who just knew it was the "in" place to be.
The Friday nighters - office managers, plant superintendents, super salesmen - had hurried home to split-level suburbia for a week-end of golf, garden chores, little league and patio barbecues. The bigger brass caught in the city on a Saturday to rehash labor problems, Washington red-tape or tax embroilments, gravitated to Jack's to unwind.
Heidi, the cocktail girl, treated the Mr. Jenkinses with due respect and deference at business-oriented luncheons during the week on an unspoken basis of mutual understanding. On Saturday nights though, a hidden barrier seemed to lift automatically.
She wiggled her way through the closely packed tables, one hand expertly balancing the tray above her shoulder, deposited the drinks and rather stealthily slipped into the seclusion of a velvet draped service station.
"My God," she groaned, slamming down the tray of picked-up empties with a rattle of glass. "In about five more minutes of this my goddamn legs are going to drop right off!"
"Rough night all right, babe," One of the food waiters was propped up on the counter catching a quick cigarette. "But in another hour you'll be hustling your ass around the dance floor in the back room like you just got outta bed."
"Yeah? Alone or with somebody?" She thrust her hand between his legs and the genital swell at the crotch of his snugly fitting trousers gave a start at the abrupt pressure of her kneading fingers.
"Not alone that's a sure thing, and cut that out, I can't go back on the floor with a hard on."
He slid from his perch, dislodging her hand and giving her a fond pat on the bottom as he started to part the heavy curtain.
"Say," turning back, "how about the new chick, Miss High and Mighty? Bring her along.
The guys think it's about time she loosened up."
"I'll get Margie to ask her," Betty replied as she followed him out between the scarlet folds.
"And I'll take care of you later!"
The new chick was Janet White who had started working cocktails with Betty two weeks before. About all her fellow employees had learned about her was that she was married and her husband was with the army in Viet Nam. An exceptionally attractive red-head she had quite naturally been the subject of much discussion and ribald speculation among the waiters who handled all of the food service at the Inn.
There is a coterie among restaurant and bar personnel with far stronger ties than any trade union. Bartenders, waiters and waitresses from a clan that approaches a national institution. "Say, I tossed drinks with old Ben at the fair in New York!"
"Yeh, I worked a season with Sally at Palm Springs."
"Weren't you at the Lodge with me in Tahoe couple of winters ago?" Or in Frisco or Tucson or Timbuktu, for the group on a whole is a restless one with an inherent gypsy strain. The younger members are looking for greener monetary pastures or new and exciting people and places; the old hands for a new set of four walls, different tables or bars to brush away the crumbs or wipe away the glass rings, or different appetites to appease or thirsts to quench. But theirs is a spurious coin, the reverse and obverse always the same, but with hope eternal they continue to wander, be it only two miles or two thousand. Yet whether near or far these nomads are closely knit within their profession and in a class of their own. For in any good dinner house or cocktail lounge as servants of the demanding public they needed a diplomatic tact and discretion.
It was a shame this was seldom reflected in their own lives.
Within the master clan there are cells within cells depending primarily on the type of establishment, its geographical area and the economic and social status of its clientele.
There are groups of employees devoted to bowling, to square dancing, to skiing, to surfing, to playing the ponies, even to such ordinary pursuits as the best way to raise a family. Some cells divide into inner cliques of their own.
Jack's Cabin Inn, by simply being what and where it was, created the caste and tempo of the members of that wandering tribe who gravitated into its hub of urbane activity. In the center of its half-acre of parking (a considerable fortune in land lay in that symmetrically white-lined automobile battlefield of dispassionate concrete) the long, low complex of hand-hewn redwood logs sprawled with deliberate deception of unplanned angularity. On a dark night the mullioned windows of the pseudo lumberman's camp seemed to glow with rosy welcome to the weary traveler of a century past, as red flannel-shirted attendants briskly took command of the luxurious, many horsepowered mechanical monsters that tooled breathlessly up to the huge oaken doors.
Seen from an aerial view in the sunny clime of Southern California the rambling log structure was even more incongruous. Its chaste white roof of sparkling ersatz snow had the icy glitter of a misplaced alpine drift as it nestled among the towering sturdy cubes of industrial giants.
An expensive bauble in the midst of money it drew money. Thus, also, as it drew a sophisticated fast-living, hard-drinking section of modern society, its employees were a relative counterpart of that entity. A group such as this is not easy to enter. When a cocktail opening occurs in a house where the tips average thirty to forty dollars a shift the inner clan circulates the word and gathers in its own species.
Young Janet White landed the job by a stroke of plain dumb luck, or so she considered it at the time. She had applied for work as a file clerk in a plant located across the street from Jack's Cabin Inn, and for the fifth time that day had been turned down because of lack of experience. Tired and discouraged, almost in tears, she left the building just as the outside lights of the Inn flashed on in the early dusk. With a defiant toss of her auburn mane she thought, to hell with all of them, and marched to the doors of the cocktail lounge in an outward show of cool bravado.
Her resolution wavered when once inside as her eyes adjusted to the soft illumination and she lingered hesitantly in the hush of the early cocktail hour. She'd never entered a bar unescorted before in her life and was on the verge of turning back to the street when a surprised exclamation of welcome bore down on her.
"Why Jan White, how nice to see you again! Are you alone this afternoon?"
"Why yes, I am." Janet quickly tried to place the owner of the clear melodious voice. She was a tall, strikingly voluptuous woman. A clinging black knit outlined full breasts aimed like twin missiles and caressed the round swell of hip. Masses of honey blonde hair were pulled high in a cascade of calculated disarray to display the good bone structure of her fashion-model face, and the almost incredible blue of her large clear eyes swept by a long fringe of false lashes. In the flattering glow of ruby-glassed chandeliers, she looked at least ten years younger than the thirty-five which she was reluctant to admit. Six feel tall, everything about her was big but beautifully proportioned. From the tips of her tapered, perfectly manicured fingers to the toes of her long, expensively shod feet, Marge Griffin was truly a Valkyrie of a woman.
"How have you been Marge?" That's who this giantess was, Marge... Janet tried to conjure up a last name, not quite sure if she'd even caught it when they first met. They had been introduced at a party given by Scott's boss, and Jan recalled running into her on two other occasions where much of the same crowd had gathered. Marge had been with the same man each time, a chubby middle-aged balding fellow who had barely reached to her shoulder. Taking it for granted they were husband and wife, Jan had wondered how the statuesque blonde had ever come to marry such a rather pompous little balloon. She'd been shocked to learn that the woman he flaunted and fawned over so publicly was not his wife but his mistress.
As Jan sorted out her thoughts Marge had linked an arm in hers and was drawing her to the seclusion of a corner booth, chatting away like an old friend.
"I really don't have to be on the floor for another half hour, so let's hide away over here and I'll buy you a drink." She gave the girl a close look. "You look like you could use one.
Tired, hon?"
"Yes, I guess I am, and I certainly could," Jan murmured as she allowed herself to be led like a docile child across the big room.
The two of them drew admiring male glances for they made an unusual pair. Though Jan felt like an ungainly colt in comparison with Marge's generous endowments the two were not dissimilar. Only two inches shorter and about thirty pounds lighter, Jan was a fine drawn duplicate of the older woman in many ways and a beauty in her own right.
The young breasts were a little higher, a touch more firm, with no need of artificial shaping or holding. The small waist, flat stomach and gentle curve of rounded hip needed no elastic constriction, and the enticing derriere had an irrepressible wiggle of its own as she walked with a free and easy stride. The sparkling burgundy of her heavy, shoulder length tresses had no help from a bottle. In her high cheeked, fine boned face, alight with eyes sometimes gray, sometimes violet, only the almost too generous, sensual mouth kept it from true patrician perfection. She had the natural redheads fair, translucent complexion with a faint dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose and cheekbones.
Jan made a strong effort to pull herself out of the blue funk she was in to at least be pleasant as they sipped their highballs and chatted idly. Though she couldn't suppress a twinge of disapproval toward Marge's way of life it was impossible not to like such an outgoing personality.
"You mentioned having to go to work, didn't you Marge?" she ventured. "Is it near here?"
"Near here? It is here! I thought you probably knew. I'm night cashier and hostess in this plush-lined sewer." She rightly interpreted Jan's questioning, startled expression, and thought, God how can anyone be that young, that transparently naive?
"And yes, I'm still going with Harry, living with him, too. Or perhaps I should say he's sleeping with me when he can get away from that harridan of a wife he has!" Her booming laugh exploded at the effect this frank tid-bit had on Jan. "Oh, Jan, don't feel embarrassed for me, everybody knows about us and I don't mind. Believe it or not I'm kinda crazy about the little butterball... and he's not so little all over. Not when he can take care of me!"
Again her laugh rang out as Jan's face crimsoned.
The flushed girl, although embarrassed at Marge's revelation was even more taken back that such coarse words could gush so freely from the gentle lips of this goddess-like form.
"I'm sorry Marge... I didn't mean. Really it isn't any of my business," Jan tried to apologize but she wasn't sure for what. She felt an unexpected stab of pity for Marge as she continued to explain.
"That's okay child, I can't blame you for wondering why I'm working when Harry is loaded.
He gives me anything I want." Her eyes went with pride to the huge Marquise diamond shooting icy sparks from her ring finger, but on the right, not on the left hand.
Oh sure, Jan thought. Everything but marriage.
"But I don't see him too often at night, mostly during the day. Not so much because of his wife," she hastened to add, "but on account of the kids. Anyway, I'd go nuts sitting home alone nights so I put my time in here to keep busy." She finished as though this were the most logical solution in the world to a perfectly reasonable situation. For her perhaps it was.
Janet caught herself from saying 'sorry' again and thought I've enough problems of my own without worrying about someone who doesn't seem to need or want any pity. She was surprised to find a fresh drink in front of her as Marge continued the one-sided conversation.
"That's enough about my love life. How's that nice husband of yours doing in the new job?"
"Scott's got a different new job right now." . She tried to keep her voice light, but a sharp stab of longing knifed through her heart. "He's in the army now, in Viet Nam... left almost three weeks ago."
"Oh, honey, I'm so sorry." She patted Jan's hand. "Just when he was getting started with such a big outfit. Harry says Ring Engineering is one of the best. And didn't you tell me at the Ring's party that you'd just bought a new house and furniture and all? What are you planning on doing while Scott's gone?"
"Well, I've been looking for a job... and... and... " Without warning Jan's eyes misted to a deep purple and a low sob welled up in her throat and choked off her words. "Oh, Marge, it's been so awful!" She managed in a final burst and buried her face in her hands as she started to cry with a quiet desperation.
Marge slid around the smooth leather to the weeping girl's side. She sat calmly smoking a cigarette until the sobs came abruptly to a shuddering halt and Jan lifted the tear-stained face with a shamed look.
"Come on kid, tell me about it if it will help any."
Janet had always thought of herself as a person with cool control over her emotions.
Ordinarily this was true but her protected life had recently taken a most unordinary turn.
She was slightly dizzy from the two stiff drinks downed in rapid succession and felt so completely alone that she forgot the woman beside her was a comparative stranger, one she didn't approve of even, and found herself pouring out the story of her troubles in Marge's sympathetic ear.
Her stream of words was sometimes incoherent with agitated haste but Marge had little difficulty in placing the confused tale together and she could read a great deal more between the lines.
Janet had been the only child of doting parents and she had come late in their life. She'd been spoiled and petted and allowed to have everything that her well-to-do father could give. As soon as she was twenty-one she'd quit college (she'd only gone anyway because it was the 'in' thing to do) and married Scott White. They'd grown up together and he'd been her steady beau for years. Her parents hadn't approved of her leaving school to get married - probably wanted to hang on to their little girl - and were even more disappointed when Scott's work took the newly-weds to California almost immediately following the honeymoon.
For the first six months everything had gone beautifully. Scott was making an exceptionally good salary with every expectation of rapidly making more. So they used the several thousand dollars he'd saved before their marriage as a down payment on a forty thousand dollar house and relatively expensive furniture. They went in a little over their heads, it's true, but Scott found it hard to refuse Jan anything she'd set her heart on. The house was a good investment and he'd been promised a substantial raise and bonus at the end of the year. So life was beautiful and Janet was a little girl thrilled with playing house.
Almost overnight the fragile bubble burst into a flood of bitter tears. Scott received his induction notice into the army, passed the physical, spent eight weeks at Fort Ord in basic training, came home for two weeks of tearful goodbyes and left for Viet Nam.
Marge interrupted her to ask why Janet hadn't gone back home to live with her folks. It seemed she was too proud to do that after their opposition to her marriage and anyway, it turned out the house wasn't such a good investment after all, at least not for a few years.
If she sold it they would lose all of the money paid down, besides, she didn't want to give up their lovely new home! And what of all the furniture that she'd chosen so carefully ?
How could she let that just go back to the store?
The money from Scott's army allotment wasn't anywhere nearly enough to go around.
Why, she couldn't exist on that in a furnished room. So she had simply decided to get a job. She wasn't stupid (Much, Marge thought ruefully.) and she'd had a college education well three years of one anyway. But even so she had discovered she really didn't know anything! At least not enough of any one thing that made her qualified to get a job doing it and nobody would hire her! And there was hardly any money left in the bank and the bills kept piling up and she missed Scott so...
"And I tried five... five! different places today and only one would even let me leave an application, and even if I got the job the salary wasn't very much... it wouldn't began to... " She ran completely out of breath, but a spark of anger was rekindled in her eyes and her shoulders straightened as she'd unloaded some of the weight of her problems simply in the telling.
Marge had been studying Jan with a peculiar mixture of sympathy and speculation. As a rule she couldn't care less what happened to members of her own sex. Orphaned at an early age, more or less literally kicked from pillar to post, she'd gotten married for the first time at fifteen and gone through four husbands since then. For all the good it did her she might as well have stuck with the first punk kid she'd fallen for. Hers was the not uncommon failing of type-casting her mates and each was basically a carbon copy of the other, the last not much more than a procurer. Harry was the best thing that had ever happened to her, aside from simply growing up and turning into a stunning amazon. Living with the tiny nagging fear that both of these happy accidents would eventually fade, Marge now looked after Marge exclusively.
An unexpected empathy with the red-haired girl at her side ignited some unknown inner spark and it flared up just long enough to alter the course of Janet's life.
"Now you stay right here, Jan honey, and I'll be back in a jiffy." She gave her shoulder a final pat. With graceful agility surprising in a woman of her size she slid from the booth in a fluid motion and vanished towards the back of the bar.
The waiter had silently replaced Jan's empty glass with a full one and she sipped at it in unthinking reflection as she waited. She was slowly beginning to wonder whatever had possessed her to break down like that and unload her troubles on a woman she hardly knew, when Marge was leaning over the table with a brisk command.
"Powder your nose, Janet," she said, "and come on and meet your new boss."
Jan learned later that Marge had happened to answer the phone that afternoon when one of the cocktail waitresses had called in and quit her job. The owner of the Inn hadn't even been aware of the fact when Marge stormed into his office with the solution to all of Jan's problems. She never did find out what Marge had said to him that persuaded him to hire a girl whose only experience with serving other people had been helping with sorority banquets. Perhaps Marge was evidence enough that Jack Quillan simply had a penchant for innocent, young curvaceous broads.
Janet White deposited her cork-lined tray of dirty cocktail glasses on a far end of the bar and slipped through swinging half-doors into a kitchen hallway. Keeping an eye on her tables over the louvered oak she kicked off the high-heeled pumps flecked with sawdust.
The cool cement eased the burning soles of her feet as she lighted a cigarette and heaved a sigh of relief. Tinny strains of "Gentle on My Mind" being pounded out in stepped-up tempo on the honky-tonk piano for at least the tenth time that night reverberated from the loud-speaker in the ceiling. Jan was wondering what in the name of Heaven she was doing here.
The one time she and Scott had spent an evening at Jack's Cabin Inn with another couple Jan had found the novelty of the place marvelous fun. The continental dinner (at prices they really couldn't afford) had been intriguingly out of context in the atmosphere of gay nineties informality. The walls were a polished extension of the outer logs, the high ceilings heavily beamed, massive scarred and branded oak slabs topped the tables, and the planked floor was carpeted in sawdust. The genial bartenders and waiters were suave bowler-hatted, gartered-sleeved replicas of old-fashioned saloon attendants; the cocktail girls a much modernized and undressed version of the dance hall hostess from another era in low-bosomed, thigh-revealing costumes.
In the midst of this blatant fakery Jan had been quick to notice and admire the authenticity and beauty of the lavish quantities of ruby glass, hand cut crystal, dully gleaming pewter and shining silver which transformed the Inn into a priceless museum of the old west.
Standing under the small, hanging admonition "employees only" Jan pushed the memory from her mind, that happy girl seemed a stranger to the weary, stocking-footed cocktail waitress. The nerves at the back of her neck were a tortured jangle of red hot wires. At the end of two weeks on the working side of the scene all magic of the Inn was gone. She'd managed not to spill a drink on a customer for five nights in a row but, she was beginning to wonder if she ever would get every order straight and remember what kind of garnish went in which drink.
Marge rounded the corner of the bar as Jan emerged through the swinging doors. "Hey, sweetie, I've been looking all over for you. We're all getting together for a shindig in the big banquet room as soon as we can get this place cleared out," she said. "So give the last call a little early, okay?"
"Marge, I'm far too tired... "
"Hey, Tom, give Jan a Courvoisier and I'll have a straight Chivas."
"Who's going to be there? Anyway I can't... "
"Now drink this down and you'll forget all about being tired," Marge urged. "It's just the gang here, a few regular customers and probably some of the band from the Colony in a jam session," she answered Jan's question and insisted, "And I won't take no for an answer, you deserve a little fun."
Jan downed the smooth brandy with a shudder and felt a glow of warmth tingle through her body. She saw Heidi glaring in her direction as the other girl was serving one of her tables. She felt slightly light headed as she went guiltily back to work and as her spirits lifted she thought, why not, why shouldn't I try to have a good time once in a while? I will go along with them. Besides, she justified her decision, I should make an effort to get along with the people I have to work with.
At first she had been truly shocked at the intimate details revealed in Heidi's conversations to all and sundry. The sultry German complained that her husband was a homosexual (despite the fact that they had four small children) so she had a good excuse for sleeping around and bragged of her sexual conquests with shameless delight. Jan's face had flamed brighter than the red of her hair at Heidi's description of one of the waiters.
"That man is really hung. I'll swear his pecker is a foot long!" she'd raved. "I get hot just thinking about him."
Despite herself Jan had found herself stealing glances at the fly of the waiter in question and wondering how that slight bulge could expand to such a length! The men's talk was not as crudely personal as Heidi's but their language was frequently outspoken in lewd and vulgar suggestiveness that grated on Jan's ear. She simply wasn't accustomed to a jargon many took for granted.
She wasn't aware that the more she blushed and winced at the men's off hand remarks, the more off-color they became in deliberate attempt to shock. They mistook her confusion and quiet concentration on a new job in a strange environment as prim conceit. The clan resented the intrusion of this obvious outsider with the haughty air. It was a case of "when in Rome... " As Heidi's phallic wonder succinctly declaimed, "She better shit or get off the pot."
Marge had heard complaints from all sides about her society friend and was getting fed up with the snide remarks. After urging Jan to join the party she'd asked the bartender to see that the new girl had one or two more drinks to relax her. As she started closing out the cash register she, too, was thinking that Jan was due to have a good time. The flame of extrinsic compassion that had burned brightly in Marge's breast to bring Janet White to Jack's Cabin Inn had long been turned to ashes.
CHAPTER TWO
It was almost two-thirty before the remaining die-hards finally straggled out of the lounge. The kitchen closed at one so the dining room wing had long since been cleared, and the waiters had slowly gravitated to the private banquet quarters housed in a secluded area beyond the kitchen.
An occasional blast of a dissonant drum emerged as a door opened and closed in the inner recesses of the cavernous building. The lights in the bar were dimmed and the room had the melancholy litter of carnival aftermath. Jan and Heidi gathered up the last of the watery liquor glasses while Marge sacked the evening receipts. She'd made several trips to the bar after having the drink with Jan and her words slurred slightly. "C'mon you two broads, let the bus boys finish cleanin' up that mess. Tom, one more for the road for us gals."
Jan downed the brandy, her third, with no trace of the first shudder. The tension had melted from the back of her neck. She felt miraculously free and relaxed, even excited at the prospect of the party.
"Are you sure it's all right to go like this?" She looked down at the scantiness of her barmaid costume. When she'd first started wearing it she had felt more naked than she did at the beach in a bikini. The off-shoulder, yellow satin blouse dipped so alarmingly in front that she'd held her breath everytime she leaned over a table for fear her ripe full breasts would swing out into the customers' faces. It was too revealing to allow for even a strapless bra so she just had to trust to luck. The mini, black velvet ruffle of skirt was drawn up on one side. Anchored to a red rose barely below her slim waist it exposed a gleaming expanse of transparent panty-hosed thigh and hip. Bending over in this also had it's dangers for a slight forward angle presented a delightful view of the rounded swell of Jan's smooth, white buttocks.
But aside from an occasional guilty tug at bodice and hemline Jan had ceased to worry about her near nudity. Most of the time she was too busy to care unless an especially bold glance down the cleavage reminded her, and she was even getting used to ignoring that.
She blushed at the obvious simplicity of her question and joined in the ensuing laughter.
"Baby, half of LA. has seen most of what you've got to offer," Heidi hooted. "And most of the guys in the back room have feasted their orbs on all of little Heidi! Right now we're overdressed. Right Margie?" she concluded.
Jan figured Heidi was running off at the mouth as usual and attached no importance to her last remark. As the trio linked arms and headed down a long corridor she reveled in the heady sensation of the warmth of belonging for the first time since Scott had gone away.
A raucous wave of noise engulfed them as they entered the brilliantly lighted chamber.
The room jumped before Jan's eyes as the pupils struggled to adjust from the dimness of the hall. Through the reverberations of sound and glare they picked out a bandstand in one corner and among the writhing group of musicians she recognized several as famous personalities. The dark figure crouched lovingly over the keyboard of a low upright and the frenetic tangle of thrashing limbs of the man at the drums were well known in the entertainment media. Their sweating faces shone like polished ebony as they ground out a jungle beat under the hot stream of baby spotlights.
The crystal notes of a clarinet pierced the low moan of the sax and muted trumpet. Each instrument seemed to soar off in a different direction on variations of a different theme, but the surf- pounding bass gathered up the notes and hurled the melody into the room with a discordant harmony.
Jan lingered on the fringe of the crowded tables, and the stirring rhythms combined with the liquor she'd consumed to flow with liquid heat through her bloodstream. The music came to an abrupt end with a crash of cymbals. In the burst of applause that followed Heidi whispered excitedly in her ear, "Man, that's the one for me! My panties are soaked already."
"Oh Heidi don't exaggerate such things." Her voice was tinged with exasperation. "Which one?"
"Why the black boy with the sticks, natch. Just imagine all that rhythm in bed... Oooeee! And who's exaggerating? Feel...!"
Her hand sneaked down to Jan's and before Jan realized Heidi's intention found her fingers thrust into the wet pulsing furrow between Heidi's thighs. Curls of pubic hair had penetrated the porous mesh covering of panty-hose and the damp tendrils licked at her fingertips. A strange tingle of excitement swept up her arm as Heidi ground down and grasped Jan's hand in the fleshy fold of vaginal lips. Marge had caught the lightning gesture from the corner of her eye.
"Behave, Heidi." She was becoming annoyed with the younger woman's avid sexual obsession, especially around Harry. "Can't you keep your mind out of your pants for five minutes? Hurry up, Harry's got a table for us over there," she finished sharply.
Jan retrieved her sticky hand with a guilty start. She trailed the wet fingertips covertly along her thigh in an attempt to dry them and was astonished at the unexpected tightening throb in her own loins. The three women were greeted by exuberant cries of welcome as they made their way through the crowded tables and Jan sank with lowered eyes into a chair that was pulled out for her.
"This is a pleasant surprise. I'm happy you came along to brighten my evening young lady."
"Why, thank you Mr. Wexler," Jan said to the man pulling his chair closer to hers. She was glad to see a familiar face for so many strangers filled the room the Inn's employees were lost in the crowd. Marge had introduced Valentine Wexler to her as one of their special patron's when Jan came to work. She'd waited on him several times and secretly admired his mature good looks and suave charm. To her youthful eyes he was what she considered an older man, probably around forty, judging by the sprinkle of gray in his dark hair and the tiny network of lines at his eyes and mouth. But he carried his lean, muscular body with a youthful grace and had the flashing grin of an impish boy. The dark eyes which she'd thought rather chilling were now smiling at her with a warm admiration that was certainly flattering.
"Please, not so formal Jan, call me Val." He poured champagne for her and refilled his own glass. "There, we're much to sober for the rest of this gang!"
Jan didn't feel very sober as the brandies she'd had were taking effect but the wine was delightfully cool and tingling. Val kept her glass filled as he talked idly about the band and Janet's eyes wandered over the bottle-littered tables. Only a handful of women were scattered through the crowd. The predominance of well-dressed males gave it the aura of out-of-town conventioneers on a spree though most of them were businessmen who regularly patronized the Inn.
The few couples on the miniature dance floor were moving more in the rhythm of love rather than the dance to the low wail of the juke box. Janet stared in fascination at a woman enveloped in her partner's embrace. She clung to his neck so her toes barely touched the floor, her lips glued fiercely to his mouth. Her hips and pelvis thrust into the curve of his body and ground against him with undulating, rotating rhythm. He held her hard against the straining lower region of his body with the splayed fingers of one hand cupping the pulpy flesh of her gently writhing buttocks. As they revolved in a slow circle of passion his other hand was gently kneading a gleaming bared breast thrust from the folds of her plunging unbuttoned bodice.
Jan was conscious of a slowly gathering heat in her own body and a burning sensation in her thighs. An odd feeling gnawed at the pit of her stomach, a mixture of revulsion and strange desire. Warm moisture spread through the flimsy material at the crotch band of her panties and she squirmed deeper into the soft cushion of the chair. Her buttocks rocked without her own conscious volition in an almost indiscernible motion in rhythm with the writhing couple on the dance floor. She crossed her legs and pressed her damp thighs tightly together in an effort to ease the sudden tension of desire settled in the throbbing lips of her vagina. A sharp stab of pain in her thigh as her own fingernails involuntarily dug into the soft skin caused her to wrench her attention away from the lewd scene on the floor. She shifted upright with a guilty start and glanced furtively around the table, fervently hoping that her rising excitement had gone unnoticed. Thank goodness no one seemed to be paying any attention to her!
Val Wexler was talking to someone standing in the aisle, his broad back half turned away from the table, and Marge and Harry were talking in loud voices in what appeared to be a fierce argument. The phrase, "If you'd prefer that fuckin' nigger-loving bitch, you horny old bastard...!" spewed from Marge's mouth above the babble of tongues unchained by liquor. Beads of perspiration coursed down the pink flab of Harry's mottled face as he was obviously trying to placate the hysterical Venus.
Almost as soon as they'd sat down to the table Heidi had vanished, but she'd returned shortly with the drummer from the band in tow. She was now snuggled so close to him as to be practically sitting in his lap. He had one arm around her and was caressing her bare shoulder with short, kneading strokes. The vivid contrast of those long black fingers indented in the clear white flesh sent a tingling chill up Jan's spine. Heidi had one hand hidden below the surface of the table in the man's lap and the murky film of passion glazed his dark eyes. He slipped lower in the chair, and his ebony fingers ceased their roving motion and tightened in a strong grasp on Heidi's upper arm.
She'd been in the act of raising a glass of champagne to her lips and the sudden pressure of his hand caused it to tip, spilling the wine down her chin and into the hollow between her breasts. Heidi let out a shrill giggle.
"Oooooh, lover, see what you made me do! I spilled the bubbly all down my boobies!
Mustn't waste it, doll... lap it up... quick!"
With a sharp tug at her bodice she freed the swollen globes of her breasts, and the champagne formed a pale amber pool between the up-thrust mounds of erect-nippled beauty cupped lovingly in her hand. The jet-black head of the musician bent to the stirrup-cup of her bosom and his long, magenta tongue snaked deep in the moist cleft and licked voraciously at the sticky liquid. Uttering a low growl he nuzzled his dark face between Heidi's heaving breasts and pulled her roughly onto his lap.
Jan gaped at the pulsing symphony of ebony and alabaster in horrified excitement. Her throat constricted and she found it difficult to breathe. She drained a glass of wine in a single gulp in an attempt to soothe the dryness of her mouth. Val turned back to the table with a mumble of apology for neglecting her as she put down the empty glass. As quickly as he'd refilled it she emptied it again thirstily. His eyes took in the entwined pair across the table.
Heidi had straddled the Negro's hips and her back was toward them as the two were slouched down in an almost horizontal position. The long cloth draping the table fanned out to blanket the lower section of their bodies. The snowy linen humped violently up and down with the thrusting motions of Heidi's buttocks as she see-sawed in wild abandon on the obviously impaling rod beneath her. The force of their grunting, rooting gyrations gradually dislodged the furiously copulating couple from their precarious position on the chair, and they rolled out of sight to the floor in a tumble of writhing black and white flesh.
Val had drawn Jan's trembling body into the firm, protective shelter of his arm. With a shudder of confused embarrassment she hid the expression of naked desire and revulsion on her face in the depths of his comforting shoulder. His own countenance wore a leer of lascivious appreciation at Heidi's wanton conduct. The heat spreading in tangible waves from Jan's enflamed body aroused an answering urgency in his groin.
"There, there, Jan honey. Don't let the antics of that little whore upset you." The twitching muscles of his thigh pressed ardently along the length of her leg in sharp contrast to the deliberately controlled level of his low murmur in her ear. "You just have to learn to take such things in stride. The poor girl can't help being what she is anymore than she can help breathing."
Jan was beginning to realize the truth of his words regarding Heidi, but that was no excuse for the flood of sensual torment that raged in unchecked demand through every nerve of her body. Even as she buried her head in shame, the thrilling closeness of Val's leg against hers sent fresh waves of strange, delightful excitement quivering through her.
The flow of moisture from her involuntarily excited vagina was a warm, sticky pool between her clenched thighs and her buttocks squirmed in uncontrolled delight on the thick, wet heat of the cushion. She gasped for breath against his shoulder... Even in the most intense moments of Scott's lovemaking she had never felt like this. Her body burned with a fever of passion and her head swam in the glowing stimulation of champagne.
Jan moaned softly and straightened and lifted her swirling head as she struggled to regain some control of her churning senses. A cheering semicircle of spectators had begun to gather around the convulsing figures of Heidi and her partner on the floor. Swaying in a lustful body they clapped their hands in time with the pounding rhythm of the moving couple at their feet. The applause quickened and the cheers swelled to a shrill crescendo at the peak of climax then shattered into hoarse, staccato gasps that audibly echoed the jerking, spasmodic aftermath of orgasmic release.
Jan closed her eyes and leaned her head back on the comforting curve of Val's arm, grateful for the sense of security that lay in the strong bulk of his nearness. In the havoc of lewd, Bacchanalian revelry he seemed a bulwark of safety. Though the touch of his thigh on hers was still disturbingly seductive, the keen edge of chaos in her unruly body had dulled to a slow, almost aching throb.
She was truly frightened by the effects of Heidi's love play. It had stimulated a towering passion far surpassing the sexual relationship she'd had ever had with her own husband.
Through the confused alcoholic cloud in her brain she was confronted with the reality that she had put herself in Heidi's place in the drummer's arms. The treacherous body of Janet White had been stirred to the boiling point by the black man's caresses. The flesh of her arm had thrilled to the touch of his stroking fingers, the swell of her breasts had risen eagerly to meet his licking tongue.
She'd been twenty-one before experiencing intercourse with any man, but had never been overcome by sensations like this. My God, she thought, how am I going to be able to bear it till Scott comes home? Am I a shameless wanton like Heidi?
Val Wexler's next words came as though he had been reading the girl's tormented thoughts. "Come now, Jan... are you actually blushing? Open your eyes and drink your wine like a good girl. The party's only begun and I do believe you're embarrassed. And maybe a little ashamed because this whole act stirred you up a bit... right?"
He knew damn well this young innocent had been a hell of a lot more than a 'bit' stirred.
Her thigh pressed to his was feverish with the heat of aroused desire. As she'd rested on his arm with closed eyes the rapid rise and fall of her swollen, straining breasts had plainly betrayed her agitation. Also, his trained eye hadn't missed the significance of Jan's covertly squirming hips and the contracting muscles in her inner thigh.
"I-I guess you're right," she admitted guiltily. "I couldn't help but feel... well... sort of hot... and... " She gulped more champagne to cover her confusion, but her violet eyes met his with trusting wonder.
"Honey, you wouldn't be normal if you didn't get some kick out of a sexy scene like that... a white gal fucking a black man right before your eyes," he rationalized. "And don't look so shocked, it's only a word and it's something everybody does... Certainly nothing to be ashamed of." He grinned like a mischievous boy and added, "would you rather I'd said 'fornicating' ? After all a rose is a rose is a rose...!"
Jan burst out laughing. The champagne bubbles tickled her nose and suddenly she felt hilariously relaxed as she wiped the tears of mirth from her eyes. His deft little pep talk had allayed Jean's fears.
"Watch this... Margie is going to do her specialty and she's damn good at it too." Val tightened his arm around Jan and turned her attention to the dance floor. Harry had moved his chair next to hers to be at the floor's edge for a better view.
The impromptu band was back on the stage as the overhead lights dimmed to a soft glow.
The drummer, looking only slightly disheveled from the romp with Heidi, beat a staccato tattoo which was followed by a long, echoing roll. An amber beam of light picked out Marge's tall, voluptuous figure gliding languidly to the center of the floor. She stood weaving slightly in the circle of light until the room became hushed, then backed off to the bandstand, her body weaving sensuously. Wriggling, she leaned backward at the feet of the Negro at the piano, raised one leg, and kicked off her shoe. She repeated the gesture with the other leg. Then slowly and rhythmically she peeled off her stockings.
Her fingers went to the honeyed tresses piled high on her head and removed the pins with negligent grace, languidly tossing them on the piano. As she performed the slow ritual her eyes caressed the dark figure dreamily coaxing a soft chording ripple from the keyboard.
Jan felt Harry's hot breath on her neck as he mumbled obscenities in his throat and tossed restlessly in his hair. Marge was getting her revenge if Heidi had been the cause of their quarrel.
Looking provocatively at the pianist, she tossed back her head and the long blond hair cascaded down her spine. She swung into a slow sensual dance. The music picked up the rhythm of her body with a suggestive, harem-dance beat. At first her full figure merely swayed slowly, hips undulating, protruding bosom rippling under the thin silk of the blouse she wore. But as her fingers crept to the buttons running down the front, her tempo quickened slightly.
The blouse was unbuttoned now and pulled free of her skirt. It swirled behind her as her movements grew faster. The half-moons of her breasts rose in a shimmer of creamy flesh from the bodice of her slip, swelling with her excited breathing, and her face grew flushed.
The blouse fell from her shoulders and her hands moved over her body in a prolonged caress.
Jan felt her own breathing quicken and drank thirstily from the glass Val held to her lips.
He'd removed his arm at the start of the dance, now once more he pulled her to him, and she snuggled defensively into the curve of his body as he turned halfway to face her.
"Quite a hunk of female, isn't she?"
Marge was squeezing her full, ripe breasts, her fingers pulling at the nipples until they distended in sharp points thrusting at the material of her bra and slip. Her hands moved to her hips, kneading them, and then moved around behind her to stroke the smooth roundness of her buttocks. Finally she opened the zipper at the waistband of her skirt, and the garment dropped to the floor. She stepped out of it and kicked it aside and danced across the floor to Harry's chair.
Slowly, buttocks writhing, she turned her back to him and bent from the waist until her fingertips grazed the floor. Her haunches rotated in a lascivious orbit. Harry thrust his hand into the deep cleft of the fleshy cheeks, and Marge quickly turned around and backed out of reach. Her fingers pushed at the strap of her slip and with a fluid motion the slip slid from her body and she stepped out of it. A gasp went up throughout the room at the sigh of her magnificent body clad only in lacy bra and panties.
Val's hand moved under Jan's arm and cupped one breast. Her breath caught in her throat at the touch of his gently working fingers. The fire that had flamed through her earlier rekindled with an even brighter blaze. Her own hands moved with a will of their own to shamelessly force the satin bodice to her waist and there was a small tearing noise. Her straining breasts surged free and the left breast thrust itself into Val's pawing hand. He uttered a low moan as the nipple hardened and expanded in his palm.
Harry's breathing was a rasping gurgle from his throat and he twitched nervously on the edge of his seat as Marge went into the motions of a professional stripper. The lower half of her body activated a series of bumps and grinds and her fingertips slid into the waistband of her panties. Slowly, she rolled them down until the shadowy triangle between her thighs was covered and her rhythm changed to a sensuous, undulating belly-dance.
The muscles of her smooth, flat stomach quivered, and her navel contracted and expanded in a pulsating, suction-like pant. Without breaking her rhythm she turned around.
The cheeks of her buttocks were clearly bisected, the naked glistening halves rotating in taut muscular circles. Her hands slid down her sides and caressed her waist and hips, then moved to her buttocks as she bent forward. As she leaned over her long fingers kneading at the still rotating cheeks then drew them slowly apart to reveal the tiny anus, a puckered rubbery-fleshed ring nestled in the deep inviting crevice.
Val bent his head and fastened his mouth on the tip of Jan's right breast. His tongue flicked wetly at the erect nipple and it lengthened and quivered against his hot lips in rhythm with the twin taper in the grip of his fingers. His hand on her thigh dug into the soft inner flesh and her entire body seemed to pulse like hot molten lava, boiling and churning under the molding pressure of his hands. On the other side of the inflamed girl low guttural moans came from between Harry's clenched teeth and his pudgy fingers were fumbling at the zipper of his fly.
Marge turned around again to face them and her hand reached around to the middle of her back and unhooked her bra. It hung loosely in front of her breasts and they bounced in unrestrained abandon as she swiveled from side to side. She slid one arm free of the strap and the cup now barely concealed her breast as her fingers lightly held the strap away from her bosom. She glided very close to Harry now. He reached to push down the rolled triangle of lace still covering her pubic hair and she slapped his hand away.
Her fingers opened and the bra strap fell. She bent toward Harry and slipped her hand under the pendulous, swinging breast as she guided it close to his face. The rosy aureole was clearly etched on the ivory flesh and wide as a half-dollar, the nip- pie itself a deeper red, erect and protruding to his hungry mouth. She let the long tip just graze Harry's lips and as they strained to fasten on the pulsing morsel Marge laughed huskily and danced away. A visible excitement rippled through her body.
With a wild sweep she tossed the bra across the room and both breasts bounced free, sculpted strawberry-tipped, ivory melons, the deep crevice between moist with a tiny trickle of perspiration. The tempo of the dance slowed and with eyes closed, hair cascading over her ripe breasts, Marge strummed the pointed nipples peeping redly through the tendrils of soft fair hair. Like a skillful guitarist, her fingers flew over the red buds until they quivered with yearning. The instruments of the band seemed to drum out a low, whining, answering cry. Then her hands dropped abruptly to her panties.
Bending at the knees, she leaned far backward, her body arched like a bow-string. Her pelvis moved in a long, pulsating undulation as she slowly pushed the panties down and the silky, flaxen mound of her pubic triangle sprang into view. She closed her knees tightly and the panties slipped off altogether.
Val had raised his head as the tempo of the music altered in relation to the mood of her dance. Although he'd witnessed Marge's licentious interpretation of a striptease many times it never failed to incite him. Harry's presence always added an extra fillip of titillation to the finale, which really wasn't necessary with the fire from Jan's velvet flesh searing his fingertips and stirring his blood to the boiling point. His balls ached beneath the swollen balloon of his penis straining at the crotch of his pants. He kissed the warm sweet pulse throbbing at Jan's temple, then nibbled at the lobe of her ear.
His teasing mouth breathed a fresh blast of fury into the fever of her desire. A shudder swept over her traveling the length of her body. Her heart was beating like a triphammer now and it skipped a beat as she caught the flash of a pale, snake-like movement in Harry's lap. His huge, hardening penis slithered with reptilian menace from the folds of his gaping fly. The bulbous head glowed with the throbbing crimson of passion, droplets of venom oozing from its mouth. His sweating body rumbled with the impatience of a lighted firecracker about to explode.
The panties gone, Marge, still straining in a back bend, moved her legs slowly apart - farther and farther - until the soft blonde nest of pubic hair gradually parted. The exposed pink vaginal folds glistened with the moisture of her flowing juices. Her fingers twined in the passion-dampened curls, and gently distended the pink hair-lined furrow. They fondled and pinched the tender nether lips until they throbbed visibly and deepened in color to a cherry red. She then stroked the tiny stamen-like clitoris in the opened flower of her cunt and it responded with eager erection to her touch.
Watching Marge's slippery fingertips strum the tiny nerve of sensation between her legs sent an agonizing- torrent of passion rushing through Jan's body with a swift inexorable force as uncontrollable as a plummeting meteorite. She shook with a feverish chill and she felt a heavy sluggish stirring in her womb. She thought hysterically, this is what it must feel like to be with child, this heavenly almost unbearable pressure deep in my belly. The fullness in her womb, the fiery serpent of lust belching jagged spurts of flame into her vagina, the gush of inner passion flowing from the gasping mouth of her vulva - were an all-consuming force.
Hardly aware of what she was doing she slid down further in the chair, arching and twisting her hips to thrust her demanding pubic mound into the hand that had been clenching her thigh. Val's strong fingers clutched the protruding mound and it split like an over-ripe melon in his grasp. His middle finger gently parted the pubic hair and sank into the opening of the pulpy-fleshed lips of her cunt. They contracted and grasped at the firm, round digit, drawing it into the length of the sucking furrow as deeply as the soaked barrier of the flimsy crotch of panty hose would allow.
"My God!" she groaned. "Ohhhh!"
And as Jan had shoved her pubic mound hard down in his palm, one hand had been driven by a will of its own to the waistband of Val's trousers. She forced it down into his pants, fumbled through the fly of his trunks and slid her searching fingers down to the inflating penis stretched along his thigh. He felt it take a joyous leap with- in her grasp and his balls surged with a painful pleasure. The swollen head of his cock throbbed against his leg with wet, slobbering kisses of his life's juices.
In the next instant Janet was swept wildly into a whirlpool of sound and motion. A loud crash rent the cocoon of desire enveloping her senses, Val's shout, "That goddamn bastard!" rang in her ears. She found herself on her feet, passion and wine befuddling her mind and body so she would have fallen but for Val's tight embrace. Only a vague comprehension of what had happened penetrated her swirling brain as she clung to Val with one arm around him. Her other arm was pressed between them, imprisoned in his trousers, her hand holding tightly onto his stiff prick. Over his shoulder, her eyes focused on Harry's lunge across the stage and stared in lustful amazement.
The noise behind her had been the overturning of the table. In his overpowering drive to get at Marge, Harry had pushed his heavy body up and away from his seat with the propulsion of a rocket. The force of the violent shove he'd given the chair had caused it to collide with the one in which Jan had been sitting. As that rocked over it caught the edge of the table and overturned it with a crash of breaking glasses and bottles. Val had known what Harry would do as a grand finale to the dance, and sensing the first motion of his wild spurt from his seat, had scooped Jan up in his arms.
The obese little man was waddling across the floor as rapidly as his short stubby legs would carry him. His eyes were narrow slits in the flushed globe of his face; his broad nostrils a flaring snout in scent of his prey. His buttocks jiggled obscenely from behind, his huge penis waved before him, the foreskin tight back, its blood-pressured head a bright, guiding beacon. The sabrelike rod propelled the panting lump of his body with the fury of a phallic juggernaut.
Marge balanced precariously with legs outstretched. Her body still swayed slightly backward, and her fingers distended the lips of her vagina in eager anticipation. She waited for the obscene Satyr of fertility bearing down on her. Harry guided his missile-poised cock with unerring accuracy to the ready, hair-lined cuntal slit gaping lewdly between her widespread legs. She emitted a shrill scream of agonized joy as the monstrous instrument rammed home and its swollen gland prodded savagely at the sensitive cervix walls.
Harry twined his legs around Marge's waist as he leaped up her. The jarring shock of collision sent their fused bodies tumbling to the floor in a tangle of flailing arms and legs.
In his mind's eye Val reviewed the lascivious mating taking place behind him. As Jan stared at the scene over his shoulder he could feel the powerful reaction it had on her in the trembling of her body. He kept his own body motionless, other than the involuntary jerking of his penis in her hand, and thrilled to her quickening response to the stimulus of Harry's brutal attack on the naked Marge.
Despite Marge's strapping bulk and the relative size of her cuntal passage, the length and breadth of the genital staff charging towards her was so tremendous Jan feared it must surely tear her asunder. She felt a mutual shock of pain stab through her womb at the point of impact and winced as the pelvically welded pair crashed to the floor. Harry's corpulent body was a convulsing bellows of flesh pumping its life's breath into Marge's greedy loins. With each stroke his white furious penis disappeared into the well of her cunt. He would draw it out to the raw, red glans tip then plunge it in to the hilt with a vicious jab.
As Jan watched the increasing momentum of the wildly pumping rod of flesh her own lips began a rhythmic involuntary undulation. She tore her eyes away as Val's lips sought hers. His searching tongue moved under hers and filled her mouth deeply, sliding and twisting and twining around her own probing member. It was a jet flame radiating a dazzling brilliance of heat lightning through every raw, burning nerve end. Her body vibrated against his. Her swollen breasts ached as they burrowed into his chest, the nipples hard, searing points of frozen fire.
She felt his cock hardening, stiffening, expanding in her hand. Fiercely she grasped its fist-like girth and it leaped and struggled like a caged animal. An overwhelming surge of sensation moved up from her knees and down from her neck in intense bursting pleasure.
Val's hot demanding hands roved over her body in a tracery of insistent passion. She spread her groping fingers to the tip of his inflated penis. The fleshy fold of foreskin was an encircling rubbery rim above the swollen gland. It felt like a huge knob of fire, polished to a slippery smoothness by the lubrication of seminal fluid. Her fingertips gently probed at the tiny, pulsating glans mouth. The warmth of the droplets of sticky moisture sent a roaring freshet of sensual delight coursing through her and she felt an answering rush of vaginal rain flowing between her legs.
The spiraling surge of lusting desire suddenly burst into uncontrollable passion. Jan found herself gripping Val's penis tight to her prodding, thrusting pelvic mound. She rubbed herself furiously up and down, on the hardness of his cock.
"Jesus Christ... wait... let me get the damn thing out," he gasped harshly, almost on the verge of orgasm. One hand struggled roughly at the waistband of her panty hose, pulling and tugging with frenzied haste; the other fumbled wildly at his belt buckle and fly.
Jan scarcely heard his agonized plea. The struggling, rutting animal in her hand had wormed its head from the top of his trousers. Beneath her skirt it was a red hot branding-iron tip boring wetly into the soft flesh of her belly. Her hand jumped wildly up and down.
Faster and faster she slipped the skin back and forth on his jerking cock as she rubbed herself against it. Still struggling vainly to force his fingers between cock and cunt to unzip his fly, Val let out the loud cry of a tortured animal. His body stiffened with a convulsive spasm.
Jan felt his cock expand and burst in hen hand. His balls erupted and a fountain of hot sperm spewed forth and flowed in a sticky, roiling sea over her stomach and down her hand. She felt the pounding pressure in her womb give a last giant surge, then the inner walls exploded with shattering force. Her entire body shook with the fury of a cascading avalanche.
They clung desperately to each other, their bodies locked in spasmodic embrace. The tremors convulsing Jan's body finally lessened and stilled. She lay in Val's slowly relaxing arms in a daze of inert repletion, cleansed driftwood tossed back to the shore from the buffeting of an eternally pounding surf. She could feel her legs trembling like those of a new born colt as she struggled to will her mindless thoughts back to some semblance of reality. The warm wetness gluing her body to his was coagulating to a clammy, oozing chill when she finally found enough strength to pull herself away.
Still foundering in a champagne fog the room whirled around her in a dizzy haze. Her skirt clung to her loins with a warm, glutinous suction as the black velvet turned a spreading, silver gray, The sticky liquid stream matting her pubic hail and flowing down the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs took her back to her first day in kindergarten. Timid about raising her hand in front of so many boys she had waited too long and wet her pants. In an agony of shame and embarrassment she had blurted out, "Please, I've got to go to the bathroom...!"
As the distasteful memory returned to betray her the same, long-forgotten phrase tumbled inanely from her lips as she brushed past him and staggered blindly from the room.
Val let her go without a word, his usually glib tongue silently berating himself for going off in his pants like some callow youth. His face flushed with anger and disgust as he eyed the moist spot slowly spreading across the front of his trousers. His deflated penis hung limp and dripping down his leg, and he tried vainly to mop up the sticky mess on his stomach with his shirttails. He couldn't recall ever allowing a woman to get him so hot and excited that he completely lost control of the situation. And an inexperienced young chit like that... ! His self-anger turned on Jan as he muttered half aloud, "I'll teach that little bitch what fucking's all about!"
CHAPTER THREE
Heidi was at the bar mixing herself a drink. In the long run she found a steady diet of champagne too sluggishly enervating so she was concocting her special version of a Bloody Mary. She splashed a good four ounces of gin over ice in a tall glass, added about one ounce of tomato juice and stirred in a dash of bitters. As she held the muted-red powerhouse to the light and squinted at the mixture in admiration, Jan's tall figure caught her eye.
The girl was backing away from Val Wexler's out-stretched arms and Heidi's glance was drawn automatically to its eventual target. A knowing grin lighted her face at the telltale shadow creeping darkly across the material at Val's crotch. Her first impulse was to join him, but her eyes followed Jan's unsteady progress toward the hall and she quickly changed her mind. Reaching for another glass she began mixing a duplicate of her own drink.
The young stud whose genital endowments she'd once raved about to Jan was close beside her. While Heidi's hands had been busy with bottles and glasses he'd been occupied with his own pursuit. He had one hand buried nonchalantly between her legs.
The fingers toyed idly in the soaked morass of pubic hair, gently pinching and pulling at the soft fleshy dew-lips on her cunt. From the depths of the gently quivering vaginal walls he felt the slippery folds of flesh quicken to his caress. His exposed male member, thumping with impatient whacks at Heidi's hip, was almost as tremendous as she'd vowed it to be.
Its enthusiastic jabs tempted Heidi to stay for a quick bang, but she snickered and wiggled her pussy away from his hand. She gave the stiff, waving prick a playful tug.
"Whoa, there... Clyde. I gotta go... in another sec I'll be peeing in your hand," she laughed and picked up the glasses. "Keep it up an' at 'em, and I'll be right back to collect."
With a lewd wink over her shoulder she jiggled away through the thinning crowd.
Drinks in hand Heidi moved in the direction Jan had taken to the ladies room. At first glance the outer lounge appeared to be deserted, then she spotted her prey in a far corner. The disheveled redhead was perched precariously on one of the lavatories, her round buttocks braced uncertainly on the narrow rim of the basin. She had her legs stretched widely apart and her toes barely touched the carpet. Her fingers clutched a dripping mass of paper toweling, and with the soggy wad she scrubbed wildly at the russet triangle between her outspread thighs.
Apparently it hadn't occurred to the befuddled girl to remove her panty hose. A ladder-like web of runs in the sheer nylon rayed from her crotch as her nails ripped at the delicate fabric. The grayish-white film of crystalline semen caking on Jan's thighs confirmed Heidi's speculation as to the cause of the ugly stain at Val's groin. She groaned inwardly and thought, Christ, if that'd been me all that lovely juice would be sloshing around in my gut right now! That poor dumb chick doesn't even know which way is up!
Whenever at a loss for words, and that seemed to be too much of the time, Heidi took the light approach, no matter what the situation.
"Honey, no matter how hard you try, it won't rub off. If it did I'd be cuntless years ago!" she joked. "Anyway, why waste it... with all those hungry peckers out there?"
Jan's breasts were still bared and thrust in scar-let-tipped beauty from between her arms.
They swung heavily with the exertion of her rapid, scrubbing motion. Heidi stared with unconcealed desire at the agitated globes. Jan's glazed eyes met hers with such a blank, vacant look that she realized the girl was in a state of near shock.
Downing one of the drinks she carried in a single gulp she stilled Jan's furious hands with a firm grasp. She literally poured the second strong potion down Janet's throat, drawing the girl upright and steadying her on her feet.
The sharp, abrasive liquor seared Jan's throat and she gasped and sputtered as it plummeted to her stomach like a ball of liquid fire. The alcoholic elixir had a momentarily sobering shock. Her eyes cleared and slowly focused on Heidi in stunned recognition. As the gin rushed warmly through her body she felt as though she'd been aroused from a restless, dream-filled sleep. Her foremost thoughts were that she must be very drunk and felt miserably uncomfortable. A hysterical giggle bubbled up from her throat, ending in a jarring hiccup.
"Oh, Heidi... am I glad to see you! I'm such a mess... and I want to go home!" she wailed.
"Don't fret, sugar. Heidi'll take you home... and we can have our own little party... " They left the Inn in the pale red light of dawn. A low-lying haze shrouded the surrounding industrial area in an unearthly gloom. The remaining cars scattered at random across the Inn's parking lot loomed through the eerie mist like obscenely lacquered tombstones of shining metal in a vast graveyard of asphalt. Seen in the flat dimness of early morning, the Inn was denuded of its neon glamour. It reverted to an ungainly, Paul Bunyon handful of lumber flung haphazardly into the center of a cement forest. The ersatz frosting of snow on the roof became an aging, gray mould of meringue that dripped dispiritedly from the sprawling log pile.
Nearby, the sleeping hulks of office and factory were eyeless Goliaths, disturbed here and there by the solitary lights of an occasional maintenance crew. The hushed silence was penetrated by the hum of an untiring compressor, and a muted clanking bang of freight cars coupling on some distant railroad siding. The lonely, night owl hoot of the diesel moaned through the air.
Luckily for Heidi (and the myriad of motorists who traversed the streets during the work-day week) the usually busy area was a deserted ghost town in the early Sabbath hours. At the wheel of Jan's little sports car she wove an erratic trail to the house. She rambled vocally with customary indiscretion about the men in her life and her loutish husband in particular. She hadn't wanted to be saddled with a family to begin with, she explained, so it was only fair he should stay with the kids when she needed to relax and have a little fun.
Jan said little, merely giving occasional directions, and heard little of what Heidi was saying. She sat curled up quietly at her side, riding in a euphoric daze.
It was blatantly obvious from the trend of Heidi's disjointed monologue that any self-respecting alley cat would have been shocked by her complete lack of moral perception.
But only vague bits of her self-revealing discourse penetrated Jan's liquor-clouded brain, and she was grateful for the warmth of companionship. By the time she reached home she felt like a little girl who has found a new friend. She was childishly pleased by Heidi's enthusiastic reaction to the new house.
"Holy cow, Jan, do you rattle around this big place all by yourself?" she exclaimed at the bedroom door.
"I did after Scott left till last week. His kid sister is staying with me for awhile. Betty... only sixteen. Don't really know her yet... working and all." She was struggling with the buttons at the back of her ruined skirt. Scott, her husband ! It dawned on her that she'd hardly thought about him at all during the turbulent evening. A sudden rush of longing and alcoholic self-pity swept through her and she fell back on the bed with a sob.
"Aw, honey what's the matter? Come on, let's get you cleaned up and you'll feel better."
Hell, she thought, I guess I'm in for a crying jag. She stripped off Jan's bedraggled costume and went into the adjoining bathroom. Coming back with towels and damp wash cloths in her hands she began by gently sponging the sobbing girl's tear stained face.
"It's what happened tonight," Jan choked out. "With Val, I mean."
"Shit, it serves him right. It's not your fault he went off in his pants."
"No, that's not it... it was how I felt. When I watched Marge, and saw Harry go after her . .
. like a rutting pig. I felt sick, yet excited too. And Val had been so sweet. But when his arm was around me, and he touched my breast... I even helped him... to kiss me there!" She shivered and her breasts ached with the remembered thrill of his mouth as Heidi tenderly stroked the blue-veined mounds with the warm cloth.
Heidi caught her breath as Jan's up-thrust breasts seemed to swell beneath her hands.
The red buds of the pointed nipples were erect and quivering and lengthened before her avid gaze.
"I never... Scott never... " Jan fumbled for words.
"You can't mean he never kissed your tits!"
"Well yes, but not that way exactly, not licking with his tongue, and... biting."
"Oh... and was that all Val did?" Heidi was breathing hard. She scrubbed at the dried sperm on Jan's smooth, white stomach then deftly flicked the cloth in the dusky, puckered well of her navel. The sensitive spot expanded and contracted and Jan gasped.
"No, he put his hand between my legs, and... and played with me."
"Played with your cunt?"
"Yes, but the thing is... I wanted him to!"
"Oh, kid, there's nothing new about that!"
"No," Jan admitted. Her hips were writhing slightly down against the mattress as the washcloth moved in slow circles through her pubic hair. She was reliving what she'd done with Val and her next words came with a rush.
"But I put my hand down in his pants. I couldn't help it! And the feel of him... oooh... he was so big. His... his... it was in my hand, it grew and got harder and harder and I felt the end of it... It was a big, round bulb... firm and smooth, all slippery...!" Heidi's fingers were probing the cloth now into the lips of Jan's vagina. The rough terry was a tantalizing agitation and she tried to squirm away.
"Yes, yes... go on. And hold still, I've got to wash you clean. You had his cock in your hand? Say it, go on... his cock."
"Ohhh, yes! His cock was in my hand... Big and hard and swollen. And there was a ring near the end, like a thick rubber band and I could slide it back and forth so it would nearly cover the round tip. His cock jumped almost out of my fingers when I did that. I ran my finger around the tip and it felt the way a fish's mouth looks... You know... sort of smooth, soft, little lips, opening and closing, gasping for breath!"
"Sweet Jesus Christ! Haven't you ever felt your husband's cock!!!" Heidi's voice was a hoarse croak as she spread Jan's cunt lips. The rosy flesh was gathering moisture faster than she could wipe it away as the vaginal juices seeped slowly from the throbbing passage.
"But he always had a rubber on it," Jan's voice rose to a wail. "So I couldn't feel it like that, the soft skin - over the hard rod... ! Val's cock was like a hungry animal in my hand... It throbbed and jerked, struggling like it wanted to break away, yet it prodded and nestled into my fingers... as though it wanted me to devour it! And then that huge head popped out of his pants... I looked down and there it was!
With Scott we were always in the dark when... But I could see this... it was like a round ball of fire, and the tip... the tiny fish's mouth... sucked in and out, and in and out. It was dripping... drops like little milky pearls, only not thin like milk, but thicker, like pale honey.
I rubbed it in my fingertips. It was sticky... a thin glue, warm and wet... and his cock leaped straight up in my hand... hard. My fingers stroked the soft outer skin and it felt loose and free. I pulled it up and down over the round hard core... faster and faster... all the while it swelled and struggled. Then... then... it seemed to burst in my hand... it exploded like a bomb!
And I was covered with it... drowning in it. That hot fluid flooding my stomach, burning right through my skin... until it seemed to be whirling deeper... deeper... within my body. I couldn't bear it! Then suddenly I... I... Ohhh!"
The thrust of Heidi's fingers, hard and deep into Jan's open and aroused vaginal passage had the ravaging effect of a hot branding iron on her mind and senses. She had mentally worked herself up to a pitch of frenzy. The recalled sensation of Val's ejaculation was so vividly with her that for the breadth of a heartbeat Heidi's finger was his penis entering her vulva. All of the distorted emotions that seethed within her - guilt, shame, passion, hunger and need - knifed through her at Heidi's touch like a falling sword of Damocles.
With a horrified cry, Jan wrenched free. Flinging her body face down on the bed, she burst into a torrent of tears.
"Well, I'll be goddamned...!" Heidi gasped, her moist fingers arrested in mid air. "What in the hell... ," is it with that broad? the thought ended silently.
Her eyes bulged in frustrated amazement at Jan's sob-wracked body. Excited and stimulated by the feel of her and the graphic description of Val's erection, Heidi automatically slipped her hand to the demanding lips between her own thighs. With a contented sigh she stretched out beside Jan and arched her hips as her fingers slid slowly in and out of the excited cunt-slit protruding from her spraddled legs. The motion of her thrusting hips and plunging hand increased in tempo to a fluid, hurried up-and-down rhythm as the sobs beside her gradually lessened to a low keening moan. By the time her body was heaving and jerking in climax, Jan lay quietly in an exhausted slumber.
With soft murmurs of satisfaction, Heidi squirmed sensuously into the depths of the thick mattress. Her hand lingered in her pubic hair, stroking and petting the soaked, hair-lined lips of her pussy until its spasmodic throbs subsided to a gentle purr. Finally sated, she grinned with drowsy satisfaction and rolled over on her side. She stretched her body full length against Jan's and snuggled into her full, warm curves, idly fondling the high swell of the girls dimpled buttocks.
Mmmm... Heidi reflected sleepily, prob'ly just as well we both take a little nap... let some of the booze wear off. The new stuff I got from Doc Storm is a sweeter turn-on anyway.
This big, beautiful redhead is sure ready to make the scene. Imagine that, she mused... a married woman and hadn't ever seen a man's cock under a full head of steam. Wowzie... the prettiest sight this side of heaven.
She drifted off to sleep mulling over what was to her an almost unbelievable revelation of inexperience and deprivation. Oversexed herself, an undeniable fact of which she was extremely proud rather than ashamed, Heidi knew full well that sex wasn't the beginning and end of all things for every woman as it was for her. Or she had the sneaking suspicion that others like her suppressed their voracious appetites. Which was all right with Heidi - everyone was entitled to their own thing.
Ever since she'd found out that little boys were different from little girls she'd like to show boys the simple, barnyard facts of sex. Girls, too, when the opportunity arose.
Heidi had never heard of Sigmund Freud, much less read his theories, but she would have agreed wholeheartedly that "Sex is a biological drive clamoring for gratification from the moment of birth. In normal human beings its imperatives can be throttled by the rules of morality, but they can never be really denied." She might have bridled at the equivocation for she considered her concupiscence merely a high degree of normalcy.
As she would have expressed it, she was only doing what came naturally. Morality... well, that was simply a minus factor in Heidi's make-up; the lack of which she wasn't even aware.
CHAPTER FOUR
Janet stirred restlessly, still half asleep, under a firm stroking pressure on her thigh. She nestled her cheek in the palm of her hand and buried her head deeper into the downy pillow. Mmm... that feels nice, she thought. Scott... His name struck a chord of remembrance in her brain... Scott couldn't be here, he was gone, was far away. She raised her head abruptly. Overcome by needle stabs of whirling pain she sank back on the pillow with a groan.
"Oh, God, my head!" It was bursting like a pricked balloon and a flood of nausea rose hotly in her parched throat.
"Come on, drink this down like a good girl, it's just what the doctor ordered."
Jan felt herself being gently lifted and drank thirstily from the glass held to her lips. The cool liquid tasted like tomato juice but it had a pungent, bitter tang. Gasping, she lay back with eyes pressed tightly shut to ward off the furies within her head that clawed her eyeballs with merciless fingers. She played the game of pretend from childhood that used to chase the hob-goblins away when she was lonely or afraid. Like Alice-in-Wonderland, she thought maybe if I keep my eyes closed - real tight - for just a little while, when I open them I won't be here at all.
But at the sound of the next words, against her will Jan's lids flew open. The lingering trace of Heidi's Milwaukee-German accent was unmistakable and Jan stared at her in bewildered recognition.
"Lie still for a minute, sugar, and you'll soon feel like a new woman," Heidi assured Jan and laughed. The phrase tickled her, for a new man was more like it, she thought.
"But Heidi, what are you... how...?" Jan struggled to clear her head, to summon some sense of reality to her confused mind.
"Don't worry, Dear. You're just suffering from an overdose of champagne. That rich man's hard cider will do it every damn time," Heidi declared with disgust. "You wouldn't think those little bubbles could swell up in your head in the morning like a friggin' balloon, would you?"
She started on a lengthy discourse - for her - about the evils of champagne hangover as compared to a dozen different alcoholic beverages, and the why and wherefore of their cause and cure. This was one subject Heidi was undoubtedly well qualified to discuss with authority. Though she stopped short in detailing the curatives with variations of hair-of-the-dog remedies, her search for erotica had unearthed far more complex elixirs. Willing to try anything once on the chance it might add to sexual stimulation or delight, she'd run the gamut from marijuana to methedrine. None of which proved as potent as an aroused human body against hers.
The powdery drug dissolved in Jan's tomato juice was an amphetamine-aphrodisiac mixture Heidi had found to be enticingly effective with a reluctant or lagging lover. Thus she patiently rattled on to allow time for its magic to act.
Snatches of the sequence of the night slowly fell into place through the dust clouds in Jan's mind, but they seemed an almost dream-like fantasy. Pictures of the scene at the Inn flashed before her as images viewed through a converging optic lens. Though they were sharp and clear, they were of strangers lost in a different time, a different place.
The violent headache had vanished and so had the awakening twinges of uncertain fear.
In their place was a delightful sensation of light-headed warmth as Jan arose. Stretching languidly she walked towards the bathroom.
Heidi turned from the patio window as Jan re-entered the room and sprawled back down on the bed. "Feel any better, Jan?" she asked.
"I not only feel better, I feel wonderful! Still a little woozy though. You've been a lifesaver, Heidi," she assured her warmly.
She reached over and switched on the bedside lamp, surprised to note it was past nine.
The morning had turned cloudy and the artificial light brightened the room against a gray haze filtering in through the partially drawn curtains. Jan was amazed that what she just told Heidi could be true. When she first awoke she felt so miserable she could die. Her present dizziness wasn't uncomfortable, rather it was a tingling, pleasant, giddy whirl - a sort of eager, night before Christmas excitement. The image of Val's swollen penis peeking from his trouser band came unwittingly to mind, but the former nagging guilt was replaced by a surge of breathtaking delight.
"Shit, I'm a regular Girl Scout," Heidi said. "I'm always prepared for anything."
She stood at the foot of the bed and shucked Jan's robe which had replaced the rumpled semen stained costume. Despite the wear and tear of her childbearing, man-fondled body, Heidi's buxom figure boasted a nineteenth century loveliness. Though slightly drooping, her full pendulous breasts were firm and erect nippled, their enormous size disproportionate to her tiny waist. Her stomach was a trifle round with an almost invisible tracery of stretch marks scarring the plump flesh of her hips. Heidi's form was a modern-day dress designer's nightmare, but the male dream of sensual perfection down through the ages.
Heidi in the buff was a striking sight. Freshly-bathed and powdered, her fair skin took on a pale peach gleam in the lamp's glow. Jan stared at her with open admiration, but was obviously surprised by the glossy black triangle of talcum-dusted pubic curls. The hair on Heidi's head had the golden hue of somewhat tarnished wheat. With her fair skin and pale, almost opaque blue eyes, the combination gave a decided impression of a true, though slightly touched-up blonde. The boldly protruding jet thatch was in startling contrast to this fair image, though many men found it an extremely erotic stimulant.
"Put your eyeballs back in, honey. Most of us aren't blonde all over like Margie," Heidi lamented. "Though God knows I tried. And damned near burned the pussy right out of, honest!"
"Sorry Heidi, but I think it's kind of cute, and I think your body is lovelier than hers, too."
"Anyway, all cats look alike in the dark, they say, but they sure don't all feel the same!"
Heidi came around to the head of the bed and said in a softer tone, "Raise up a little and let me straighten those pillows."
As she leaned over, one swinging breast pressed in the hollow of Jan's shoulder. The touch sent an electric shock through her body and Jan shivered with pleasure. She felt slightly detached, as though she were drifting dazily in space caught up in a warm ray of sunlight. As Heidi's soft bottom thrust tight against her hip the heat from the sun grew stronger and spread through her loins.
"You're not so bad yourself, you know," Heidi whispered huskily. "Such beautiful big tits .
.."
Her hands gently encircled the high-swelling perfect hemispheres of Jan's breasts. She lowered her head and lightly brushed her moist mouth over Jan's full parted lips. The younger girls body tensed as a strangely sweet flood of sensation washed over her. Then Heidi's mouth clamped down with eager, demanding fierceness, her tongue stiffened and thrust in Jan's mouth, hotly searching.
A passing shadow momentarily obscured the grey shaft of morning at the window, then returned to blanket it completely. The two women locked in the awakening throes of passion failed to notice the changing pattern of light.
Scott's kid sister Betty had been crossing the tiny flag-stoned patio outside of Janet's room when her eye was caught by the gleam of inner light. Her ripe teenage curves flagrantly accented by a minute bikini, she was on her way to the backyard pool of the house next door. She turned back to the window to see if her sister-in-law was awake. Her hand froze in mid-air in the act of tapping on the glass as she got a clear view of the wide bed.
Spotlighted in the rosy illumination of the tall bedside lamp, the nude bodies of Jan and Heidi presented an erotic tableau.
The young girl pressed her nose against the pane and viewed the lovers' passionate embrace with avid eyes. She found it difficult to breath as a thrill of excitement tingled down her spine. Her legs turned to rubber and she leaned against the cool glass. Holy cow, she gasped! If my goody-goody brother could only see his new bride now! To her way of thinking her older brother was what she considered to be 'a real square'. When one of her chums had raved over his rugged good looks Betty had declared with disgust that he probably wouldn't even say shit if he had a mouthful. Her own abnormally carnal lust had somehow sensed Scott's shyly introverted sexual nature. It was true that he'd been a virginal groom, afraid to venture beyond inept fumblings during his and Janet's long courtship. Even after their marriage he strove to suppress what his puritanical upbringing had let him to believe sexually debasing.
Betty had been born with a hunger that no amount of parental strictness could lay to rest; an insatiable, helpless yearning that stretched to infinity. It gnawed at her loins as she watched the quickening tempo of passion within Janet's room and her tight little buttocks gave an unconscious wriggle of joy.
Heidi's yellow head moved to the pulse-beat in Jan's throat and her fingers began stroking and kneading at the pointed nipples of her breasts. The twin peaks expanded visibly and darkened to a deep crimson hue in the rosy circles that spread like opening flower petals.
As Jan's hands went to the pendulous globes of Heidi's breast Betty thrust her hips against the low window sill and shoved hard against the mounting pressure in her pelvis.
"What in hell are you doing?"
She jumped back as though she'd been burned and collided with the muscular male body behind her. "Oh, Bud, you scared me half to death," she whispered. "Shhhhh... be quiet or they'll hear us!"
"Who will... " his words dwindled to a sharply indrawn breath as his eyes focused over Betty's head into the beam of soft light.
Bud was her newest conquest, the eighteen year old son of Jan's neighbors. Growing tired of waiting for her to keep their date for a morning swim, he'd come wandering across the lawn to see what was delaying the girl.
"Sweet Jesus Christ!" Bud's eyes widened in shocked horror. Janet's body was twisting and writhing on the bed as Heidi's mouth fastened hungrily to the tip of one up-thrust breast. He could see her mouth opening and closing on the extended nipple, the roseate glowing moistly as her tongue darted out in licking circles.
"C... common, Betty! We shouldn't be watching them like this!" But he seemed to be rooted to the spot and his throat worked convulsively.
"Don't be silly," Betty hissed, her gaze riveted on the spot between Jan's thighs. As Heidi sucked at her breasts Jan's legs had jerked upward, and they splayed outward from her hips revealing the burnished tangle of auburn pubic down.
"See how wet she is!" Jan's distended cunt slit was a throbbing pink wound in the dark frame of wet pubic curls. Dew-drops of moisture glistened like diamond dust on the fleshy folds of her vaginal lips. Her pelvis thrust upward, writhing in the air as her heels dug into the mattress. The firm globes of her buttocks bounced and jiggled on the bed as her hips worked up and down with an undulating rhythm.
"Oh, God," Bud moaned. He tightened his arms around Betty's waist, one hand kneading the twitching muscles of her stomach, the other sliding teasingly into the low band of the bottom of her bikini.
His protruding nerve-centered penis struggled against the constraining crotch of his tight trunks and beat a wildly exciting tattoo back on the swell of Betty's bare buttocks. She reached back with one hand and forced the swollen shaft free from his brief trunks, and stretched upward on her toes. As he bent his knees and scooted down behind her, she pulled his penis under the elastic leg band and into the soft furry warmth between her legs. Her fingers caressed the blood-pressured head protruding rigidly from between the tight grasp of her thighs.
Jan's young sister-in-law began to move her hips back and forth. She could feel the lips of her cunt expand and suck wetly at the stiff rod as she rubbed herself against it, and she ground down with all of her strength.
"Ooooh, look," her voice was a hoarse whisper of delight, "I've got my own fat little cock to play with."
She massaged the out-thrust swollen bulb in gentle circles with her palm and the oozing gland laved her hand with warm, white liquid.
Bud's reply was a muffled groan in her ear and his eyes stared in fixed fascination into the bedroom. Heidi's head was a brassy blur bobbing at Jan's red pubic triangle as her pointed tongue darted in long, swiping licks at the flushed, straining nether lips hidden beneath it. He trembled at the hot, moist grasp of Betty's demanding cunt on his cock, and he felt like cumming in her teasing little hand though he had a big hard-on a sudden urge to urinate swept through his genitals.
"Shit!" He reluctantly tore himself away from Betty and the tantalizing bedroom scene. "I gotta piss," he groaned, trying to control his waving cock with both hands.
"Come on, over here in back of the bushes...!" Betty was already half-running before him to a shoulder high hedge that swept from a wing of the house in a screening half-circle. Her fingers were working with the straps of her bikini as she bounded across the lawn like a bronzed gazelle suddenly imbued with life. She'd stripped off the scraps of gaily flowered latex and lay panting on the dew-drenched grass by the time Bud stood spread-legged in the tall shelter of foliage.
He faced away from her, his knit trunks bunched in a tight roll beneath his buttocks. The lean twitching haunches were stark white globes bisecting the deep tan of his upper torso and legs. The splattering spurt of his golden urinal stream as it pounded into the crisp leaves was a strangely erotic stimulus that stirred Betty with a mounting excitement.
"Hurry up, Buddy," she urged in a voice heavy with passion. "I'm getting so hot I can't stand it!"
As the splashing sound dwindled and finally stopped, Bud's cock deflated and it hung down with his balls as he came up to Betty. He knelt on the grass with one knee between her legs, and it began to rise again and stiffen and expand. It rose to a full erection, sticking out from his groin, swaying teasingly above her face. The skin stretched taut on the rigid underbelly of the bloated cudgel in a faintly puckered seam and a tiny spittle of urine and semen fell like a salty tear on her lower lip. Her tongue flicked out, a red demon's tail slashing at the pungent drop as her hands grabbed wildly at his cock. Her palms were hot and slippery on the hard stem as she guided it like a club to her ravenous mouth. It throbbed between her furiously sucking lips with hard, jerking thumps.
"I'm going to cum," Bud gasped.
Betty pushed him away with a hard shove. "Don't you dare cum," she howled, "I'm not ready yet!"
As he sank back on his haunches his swollen penis slithered wetly across her heaving breasts, snaked down her flat belly and came to rest with its blood-filled tip pressed to her inflamed vulva. She thrust upward with a violent push. The pulsing glans-tip barely grazed the tiny erection of her clitoris when her body lunged in one tremendous, spasmodic jerk and it was over. Yet only beginning.
A little cry of triumph escaped her. "Oh, God!"
"For chrissakes, Betty!" He shook uncontrollably on the verge of orgasm.
"Wait... I want to get on top of you," she said.
Bud rolled over on his back and she knelt astride him. "Hold still a minute," he commanded between clenched teeth.
His cock slapped hard against his stomach and he lay struggling for control. His balls ached with the pressure pounding relentlessly from within, pleasure turned to pain. Betty quivered with impatient desire, then quickly took his cock in her hand and slipped its head through the wet softness of her young, sparse pubic hair. She pulled it into her body with the contracting muscles of her vagina until all of it was sucked up deep inside of her.
His hands went to her breasts and fondled the jiggling globes as she began to move her hips back and forth with an easy, swaying rhythm. He felt the heat of her cunt on his agonized penis and the strong pull of its grip once more induced a surge of sperm in his balls. He took her hips in his hands and tried to move them faster.
"No... no... not yet! Please," she begged, "Not so soon!"
She changed her back and forth motion, rotating her hips in a grinding circle, working his cock like a mortar in a pestle. He groaned, trying not to cum. Jesus, Bud thought, my cock won't last out the summer with this babe around! The walls of her vagina were a soft, wet wall of liver-flesh clasping hungrily around his hardened, tormented flesh.
"If... you... keep... that... up," he panted, "I can't help cumming!"
"Hang on honey, just a little longer," she pleaded. She began to move straight up and down using her knees for leverage instead of her hips. She could feel him swelling, throbbing, pulsing inside of her, a second heart beating incessantly, pumping her life's blood through her veins. Oh dear God, an inner voice pleaded in silent desperation, please... please... let it be now... let everything be all right this time and fill me forever, never make me go hungry again. Oh, please!
Her fingers clenched fiercely at his shoulders, the sharp nails tearing at his skin. Out of control now, she bounced wildly up and down, riding his cock as if she rode the pommel of a saddle. Bud. cried aloud and dug his hands into the grass, pulling it up by the roots from the damp earth.
The boy could stand it no longer and his hips rose and fell with her bouncing body. Her cunt clutched desperately at him and with renewed control he rammed" his cock into her with pounding strokes while pleasure surged through his body like ocean waves rolling up a beach.
"Ohhhh, yes... yes... yes... yes... " A mindless chant rolled endlessly from Betty's lips.
She urged him to help her move faster, harder, and he pumped with long strokes, pulling his cock out to the head and driving it back in again up to his balls. Then through the roaring in his ears he heard her sobbing, laughing shrieks of joy. He felt the hot flesh grasping his cock burst into a torrent of raging convulsions. The deep well of her womb overflowed, washing over him, drowning him in a rushing flood of liquid fire.
He heard a shrill cry of sweet agony howl from his throat. He was cumming now! His penis gave a final lunge in the cauldron of her body and his whole being strained as his cock exploded in a long, high, screaming pitch of ecstasy. His sperm was a soaring starburst up and up into the never-ending heavens.
His body collapsed beneath her on the mangled turf, jerking spasmodically. Betty sat impaled on his slowly deflating manhood, her cunt quivering yet in deep, orgasmic gasps.
She ground desperately against his softening, emptying muscle as her swirling reflexes demanded, begged for more. But the now impotent answer to her eternal need withered and died within her.
"Hey," Bud's tone was peevish. "Pile off will ya! You're screwing my balls right into the ground."
Had his eyes been open he would have seen a look of pure hatred that blazed from Betty's face. It took only a twisting motion of her hips to allow his passion-drained penis to slide with a slight wet pop from the still nibbling lips of her cunt. She scrambled to her feet and ran to the rear of the house, picking up her bikini along the way. The late morning sun thrust a tentative ray of warmth through the trees to lap at the dew- misted lawn, but the running figure shivered as though from any icy blast.
The low laugh that came from her throat sounded strangely like a sob as Betty called back to him. "Last one in the pool is a rotten egg!"
CHAPTER FIVE
Janet was ordinarily the quick-shower-before-dressing type of female. She had never felt any desire to indulge in the narcissistic contemplation of her body found by many girls and women to be a source of pleasure, an ego or morale building practice. Though she was naturally aware that she had well-proportioned curves in all the right places. For this she was grateful because her figure was an asset to her clothes, instead of the other way around as happened more often than not. She'd been in love with Scott ever since she was twelve, at which time he'd considered her nothing more than a tom-boy playmate and quite frequently a nuisance. As she'd grown up into lovely, ripe-breasted young womanhood (which, thankfully, Scott eventually noticed) Jan was proud that he found her body beautiful. Further than that she hadn't much ventured to consider it.
But late Sunday afternoon as she waited for the tub to fill she studied her nakedness reflected in the full length mirror with an appraising, almost clinical eye. How strange, she thought, how truly amazing that the tall, shapely redhead returning her stare with a candid violet gaze bore no outward mark of emotional or physical change. She leaned forward to wipe away the gathering film of steamy moisture, scrutinizing her face as though she expected to find the scarlet letter of adultery branded on her brow. But the smooth skin was unflawed except for the despised sprinkle of freckles still dusting her nose.
She outlined the familiar curve of hip and waist with her hands. As her fingertips brushed the firm swell of pointed breast flesh she couldn't repress a thrill of pleasure despite the flush of shame that glowed back from the fogged glass. Suddenly the image in the mirror turned into an unknown stranger whose pansy eyes were clouded with uncertainty and doubt. The voluptuous ivory figure shimmered with a sensuous glow through the ethereal mist of whirling steam. As trembling hands cupped the full round breasts, the rosy nipples thrust in swelling supplication from growing circles of blushing pink.
Jan stood as one in a dream, a heavy sensation rising within her in tune with the moist vapor rising in the room, staring transfixed in the mirror until the wavering reflection blurred and vanished in a misty film. With a guilty start she turned and plunged one foot into the tub.
"Oooooo... Damn!" The almost scalding water served to bring her to her senses with a bang. A rush of self-disgust tormented her as she ran the cold water and finally stretched out in a soothing cloud of fragrant foam.
What in the name of all that's holy has come over me, she wondered? She'd been acting like a sixteen-year-old kid who'd never been kissed, instead of like a married woman. At least, she amended, like a married woman should. Lord knows there had been plenty of girls in college who thought nothing of amusing each other sexually, but the very idea of doing such a thing simply never appealed to her.
Before their marriage she and Scott hadn't indulged in what she'd call really making out.
She smiled to herself as she remembered the one time her mother had, with great embarrassment, attempted to explain the dangers of what she termed "heavy necking."
Mom needn't have worried, she thought wryly, for Scott had treated her almost like a kid sister until they were married. Perhaps it was because they'd grown up together, took each other too much for granted.
Although marriage hadn't changed this a great deal, she thought now. Her mind flitted to the unrestrained display of sex last night. Good God, how would Scott have reacted to that? He wouldn't even attempt to make love with the light on, and certainly not anywhere but in bed! Not that a public orgy was by any means a true or desirable setting of connubial bliss, but she was beginning to realize the extent of Scott's inhibitions and inexperience. Mine, too, I guess, she admitted to herself.
Of course they hadn't lived together very long, but she knew that many times he'd entered her when he'd gotten her excited... but he had done not quite enough. She'd be almost on the verge of orgasm when he would ejaculate within her after a few strokes of his penis. He'd withdraw leaving her in a helpless turmoil, so charged up that it was hard for her to get to sleep.
Scott and I have been missing something that could be truly wonderful, she thought and ached with a sharp pang of longing for him. Oh dearest, I can teach you so much when you come home! After all the things that Heidi... and Val...
Jan's buttocks squirmed on the slippery tile as a rush of heat spread through her body.
She shivered in the cooling water. A vicarious thrill stabbed at her loins with the unbidden memory of Heidi's tongue thrust deep in her cunt and the feel of Val's swollen penis in her hand. She got out of the tub and toweled her recalcitrant flesh dry with a flurry or harsh, punishing strokes.
Try as she might Jan couldn't ignore the upheaval of passion that had possessed her so completely during Heidi's ardent love making. It nagged at her mind as she dressed for work and applied her make-up with shaky fingers. Self-guilt tormented her but she attempted to defend her actions. She'd been lonely and hungry for Scott's arms around her. Hadn't most of the girls she'd known in school experimented with each others bodies in search of illicit excitement? She'd simply never been drawn into that kind of a situation before. Now, having been married... and with her husband gone for so long... the natural demands of her young body... and besides she'd had far too much to drink!
The true cause of her anxiety she subconsciously buried - the traumatic awakening of uncontrollable sensual desire and delight. The hidden sleeping tiger that had been stirred "by Scott's inept touch had suddenly sprung to roaring, lusting life under Heidi's skillful, urgent prodding. Fired by the stimulus of the aphrodisiac and Heidi's passion, Jan's dormant desires had burst forth.
What really troubled Jan was not so much what she had done, but her strange reaction and heightened sense of sexual enjoyment. As Heidi would have dredged up from her bottomless well of bromides, "It ain't what you do, it's the way that you do it."
As she drove to the Inn, Janet continued to search for a justifiable excuse, one that would make her guilt easier to live with. Her thoughts pounced on a theory discussed by her psychology professor in college. It concerned what he'd termed "the sooner time". The idea related to the concept that sooner or later in life most of us are forced to face certain new realities. She'd found the thought strangely fascinating and grasped at this saving straw in the affair with Heidi. She concluded it had been a "sooner time", and finding a label helped to salve her nagging conscience.
But no tag could be attached to Jan's feelings towards Val Wexler. There was simply no way to rationalize the irrational. Her thoughts turned reluctantly to the scene at the Inn.
Much of the night was indistinct in her memory, a kaleidoscopic pattern of discordant sounds, writhing bodies, and her own inner tumult. She felt as though she'd stumbled blindly through a difficult terrain on a strange journey. One thing emerged with a fearful clarity, a forbidden magic that would haunt her forever. The flame that had consumed her with Val's caresses, the sensation of his hot, throbbing penis growing in her grasp, the image of his aroused desire; all formed an erotic vision etched on the retina of her mind.
It was after six by the time Jan parked her little car at the rear of the huge lot. Although she was going to be a few minutes late she approached the Inn with lagging steps. On first awakening that afternoon she'd been relieved to find Heidi gone, then fearful about confronting her at work. After trying to reason things out, her feelings were now those of shyness and hesitation about facing her fellow workers. Yet somehow she felt a sense of committal, that she was no longer an interloper.
Jan entered the formidable expanse of gleaming tile and shining stainless steel, resembling a lab- oratory more than a kitchen, with mixed emotions. She had the odd sensation of returning to the fold, while balancing on the threshold of an ominous crossroads.
She needn't have worried about her reception for everyone carried on with their duties as though nothing unusual had occurred. Heidi greeted Jan with a cheerful "How's your head, hon?" in an offhand manner, and Marge was equally casual. Too early for the dinner crowd, most of the men waiters were putting the finishing touches on their stations, their usual ribald banter interspersed with remarks about having had a ball last night and complaints about big heads and hangovers. Jan seemed to sense a more relaxed friendliness in their attitude towards her, but she thought perhaps it was merely a reflection of her own new feeling of acceptance.
The atmosphere was so banal, so ordinary - uncharged with the tension she'd feared, that she had the detached sensation the party had been only a weird fantasy, an erotic figment of her imagination.
It was close to midnight when she was jarred back to reality by the entrance of Val Wexler with a small party. For one crazy moment Jan had the feeling of being trapped and panic touched her eyes as she turned to the bar.
"Take it easy, Jan." The bartender looked at the obviously upset girl with concern. Her hand gripped the edge of the bar so tightly the knuckles whitened, and he enfolded it in a comforting grasp. He had been one of the few who'd witnessed Jan and Val's torrid embrace, as Marge's performance had been the lewd center of attraction. This poor kid, he thought, she sure as hell is no match for that bastard. He'll chew her up and throw what's left back to the sharks. He sought for some word of warning but could come up with nothing that wouldn't embarrass her.
"Don't let the gang around here bother you, things get kinda out of hand once in a while," he said lamely, cursing his inability to help for he felt truly sorry for Jan's visible discomfort.
"Thanks, Jack," her smile was wryly grateful for his comforting attempt.
And thank God, Jan breathed with a sigh of relief, Margie's seated them at one of Heidi's tables! As she served her station she studiously averted her eyes from Val's group. When they'd come in she had been attracted by the smart semi-formal attire of the fashionably coiffured women, and she suffered an irrational twinge of envy at their aura of relaxed enjoyment. The laughing party stayed for only a short while and strangely Jan experienced a perverse pang of disappointment as she caught a glimpse of Val's virile retreating figure.
The bar was just closing and she was emptying the last ashtray when Jan felt a strong hand grasp her arm. She looked up straight into Val's eyes and a rush of color suffused her fair skin. The breath caught in her throat with a choked gasp.
"I thought you'd gone!" She could have bitten off her unruly tongue as the words came tumbling out.
"I came back." His eyes were coolly appraising but his smile was friendly.
"Obviously," Jan forced herself to a lightness she was far from feeling.
"I saw you trying to hide like a frightened rabbit when we came in earlier." Her anxious confusion was so evident that Val relaxed his grip on her arm and his eyes grew warmer.
"Janet, I had to return and tell you how very sorry I am. I owe you an apology for behaving like such a heel and not taking better care of you last night."
If any double entendre was intended it was lost on Jan as she stammered, "Please, Val, can... can't we just forget it?" his light touch on her bare flesh sent a shiver up her spine.
"Consider it forgotten, but I can't have you looking terrified every time you see me because of an unfortunate, stupid experience. Come and have breakfast with me and I'll prove I'm really not such an ogre."
Jan hesitated and Val's lips curled in the impish grin she found so much like a small boy's.
"Please...?" he urged.
"But it's so late," she protested inanely, then had to laugh as Val reminded her it was really a trifle early for breakfast.
"There's no reason to be afraid," he said softly. "I assure you that I have no intention of leaping on you and ravishing you like some wild animal. Your wish is my command, believe me."
There were banked fires at the back of his eyes. now, and Jan's eyes widened as they met the flames in his. She felt a moment of panic as she had a blazing memory of what it had been like to be held in his arms, and her heart skipped a beat.
Before Jan could muster any words of refusal, as she knew she should, Val said he'd better leave before Jack threw him out, and he would wait for her by the door.
It was only a short drive to a restaurant that was the gathering spot of the night-owl crowd.
Val talked lightly of the comedy he'd seen that evening at the Playhouse, and Jan's uncertainty faded as he made a special effort to be agreeably amusing.
The cafe was a brightly lighted oasis filled with a noisy crowd winding up the night. It bubbled with such an air of gaiety and lack of intimacy that Jan was chatting with Val like they were old friends by the time they sat relaxed over refilled coffee cups. Without her realizing what he was doing Val led her on to talk, although he carefully steered the conversation away from Scott. He had already found out all he needed to know about Jan's husband from Marge.
The more he listened to Jan's guileless rambling, the more she intrigued him. As he watched the sensuous curve of her full mouth and the rising swell of her breasts, the bright lights camouflaged the desire in his eyes.
"Oh Christ," Val interrupted himself in the middle of a sentence with a low groan. "Let's hope she doesn't spot us!"
"Who. .?" Jan asked, startled at the sound of his voice.
"Jack and Donna just came in, and she looks sloshed as usual."
It dawned on Janet he was speaking of her boss, Jack Quillan, and his wife, Donna. She'd seen Donna across the room at the Inn and at first glance thought she was Marge for they were built on the same tall, voluptuous lines. Val had slumped in the corner of the booth but he was too late for a husky, feminine voice drawled at Jan's shoulder "Val, darlin', how've you been?"
The words were just faintly slurred, but it was evident from the woman's swaying stance that she was quite drunk. The lovely plains of her flushed face had a smeared, unfinished look, blurred from the effect of too many drinks over too many years. Donna Quillan was still very beautiful, but she presented the illusion of an exquisite, bigger-than-life wax doll that has been left too long in the sun; its features slowly starting to mingle, its body beginning to overflow at the seams.
Donna was already wedging herself into the booth at Jan's side as Val muttered an invitation to join them. She brushed over the introduction to Jan with a bare nod, but Jan was conscious of her appraising stare though she went on talking to Val.
"Where's Carol been hiding herself? I haven't seen her or those two handsome young bucks of yours in ages." The malice in her tone was unmistakable.
"I don't see too much of them myself these days." Val's voice had an icy chill. "The boys are away at school you know. The last I heard from Carol she was enroute from New York to Miami."
Jack Quillan had been trying to interrupt and finally raised his voice in some mention of business to Val. The harsh glance he shot his wife was far colder than Val's tone had been, and Jan felt a surge of pity for Donna despite her deliberate rudeness At least it had the desired effect of freezing Donna's tongue for without a word she struggled to her feet and wove an uneven path to the ladies' room.
She was gone for so long that Jan grew concerned. Jack was recounting a long involved story to Val so she excused herself and slipped away. She found Jack's wife slumped rather dejectedly in a small make-up alcove, staring vacantly in the mirror. Her expression brightened somewhat as her glazed eyes focused on Jan's approaching figure.
"Are you all right, Mrs. Quillan? You're husband was getting worried... " Jan hoped the lie sounded convincing.
"So you're Jack's newest lil playmate at the gym?" Her words slurred and Jan took it for granted she'd said 'inn'. "Mean big... big and young. Jus' the way he likes 'em. Big boobs, big twat... right, honey?"
Jan could hardly believe her ears. The woman appeared to be far more intoxicated than when she'd left the booth. Then Jan saw the glint of a silver flask in the jumble of cosmetics spilling from her purse on the shelf. So that's what she'd been doing in here so long, just sitting there getting smashed!
"Please, Mrs. Quillan, you don't know what you're saying. I hardly know your husband.
Come on back to the table, Val and I... "
"Oh, it's Val too, is it? What're you after _. . his cock or his money?" She laughed hysterically. "His cock comes pretty cheap, but don't kid yourself, honey, that's all you're fuckin' well goin' to get!"
Jan's face flamed and she was about to turn on her heel and escape from Donna's guttural stream of words when the woman buried her face in her hands and burst into sobs. She hesitated, not sure what to do, and put a tentative hand on her heaving shoulder.
"Mrs. Quillan, don't... please. Do you want me to get your husband?"
Donna lifted her tortured face, looking somehow younger, more vulnerable despite the mottled wash of cosmetics smearing her cheeks. The blurred tearful gaze that stared at Jan from the mirror was so distraught she once more felt sorry for her.
"Oh, no, don't do that! Just stay with me for a few minutes." Her eyes darkened and glittered through the drying tears. She was taking deep, gulping breaths and seemed trying to compose her agitation.
"I'm sorry for what I said really, I didn't mean it... drink too much. Was beautiful, jus' like you. Look!" With a desperate jerk Donna ripped the buttons from the bodice of her gown as she tore it open. Her breasts thrust free, exquisite mounds of pink-nippled flesh.
Jan gasped and thought, oh lord, what if someone should come in here? Her hands flew automatically to the folds of Donna's dress to cover the woman's nakedness. She found them captured in bands of steel as with a quick movement Donna grabbed her and pressed Jan's fingers tightly against the protruding breasts. The firm swell of warm flesh in her hands sent an involuntary tremble of excitement up Jan's arms.
"There, my breasts are still beautiful! Aren't they darlin'?" A prideful lust distorted Donna's slack mouthed features, and she rubbed the distended nipples in Jan's palms.
Janet stood transfixed, held fast in the savage grip. Then for one so drunk Donna moved with the agility of a cat. Suddenly releasing Jan's hands she swiveled in a twisting whirl and sank her feverish face in the soft flesh of Jan's belly. Simultaneously her taloned fingers went under Jan's short costume to the waistband of her panties, tugging the silken mesh over her hips in a fluid motion.
With a smothered groan Donna's mouth lowered to the exposed triangle of pubic down and nuzzlingly buried in the hair-lined cunt slit with an impassioned kiss. Sharp nails dug into the soft rounded globes of Jan's buttocks pressing her pelvic mound against the demanding mouth. Donna's seeking tongue shot into the fulcrum of her body, a lusting snake writhing in the sensitive flesh.
Jan had become really frightened as Donna's fingers fumbled wildly under her skirt.
Everything happened so rapidly and the pursed lips found their mark so quickly that she couldn't control the instantaneous reaction of her body. Her hips arched forward with the pull of Donna's hands on her buttocks as a wave of exquisite sensation swept over her.
Almost, she let herself surrender to it.
Even in the midst of liquid feeling, with a hot burst of moisture flooding her throbbing cunt, the lascivious proximity of the hungry mouth recalled her to her senses. Passion was overcome by guilt and the thrill was dissipated by a jolting shock of conscience. With a violent shove she managed to disentangle herself from the lusting tentacles of Donna's embrace. She backed away with a growing horror, rearranging her clothing with shaking hands.
Donna's surprised gasp rose to a low, keening wail that echoed like a disgruntled banshee in the small room as Jan spun around and fled through the door.
After they were seated in the car Val made no attempt to start the motor, but turned and leaned back on the door to face Jan.
"All right now Janet, tell me what happened back there," he said quietly.
Jan sat in an attitude of rigid attention, her eyes straight ahead staring fixedly into the dark void of the night. The tension in her body created an almost tangible crackle in the vacuum of enclosed space. Val reached to the dash and with a whisper of lowering glass the sharp tang of early morning air fanned Jan's feverish brow. She drew a deep breath and forced herself to speak.
"What makes you think... ? She closed her eyes in an effort to block out the sight of Donna's shameless lust.
"I don't think... I know damned well something happened. When you came back to the table you looked as though you'd just been face to face with the devil."
"Nothing happened, really, Val."
"You're a poor liar, Jan. What was it? Did that bitch make a pass at you?"
Jan's eyes flew open with a hint of relief. "How would you know? Oh, Val, yes but not only that. She said such vile things!" Shame thickened her voice.
He slid his arm around her, his fingers lightly patting her shoulder as one would comfort a lost child. Intuition warned him to tread softly. Just the nearness of Jan's tempting body caused a rush of desire pounding in his groin, and he flexed the muscles of his hips to ease the pressure of his penis swelling at his crotch. Much as he wanted this girl he was determined to wait until she surrendered to him willingly, when they could draw the full measure of passion from each other's bodies. That the time would come he hadn't the least doubt for Val Wexler made it a rule to acquire whatever he went after.
"Try not to think about it, but I've got a fair notion of what they were." His voice was low and he succeeded in overlaying the husky note of desire with a consoling, almost fatherly tone.
"But why should Mrs. Quillan attack me like that?"
The renewed flush of fire to her face and the convulsive shiver that wracked her body told Val more than the muffled words Jan spoke from the comforting pillow of his shoulder.
"She was crying at first, then she got hysterical and tried to... tried to kiss me, not on the mouth... but... ," Jan ended with a low moan.
Goddamn that woman! Val cursed inwardly. A vivid picture in his mind of Donna's wet mouth seeking the tender folds of Jan's vaginal lips transmitted a surging rush of hot blood to his nerve-centered penis. As he felt his cock give an expanding lunge it was all he could do to control himself from unzipping his fly. Stop it you bastard, he commanded, and pinched his balls in such a tight press of his buttocks that a sharp jab of pain halted the growing erection.
"Donna went after you my dear child, because you're all of the things she'd like to be.
Because you're young, and lovely and unspoiled. She wasn't always the vixen she is now, you know. I can remember her as a real beauty when she and Jack were first married... Though I doubt that she was ever very pure in heart," Val ended dryly.
He felt the tension gradually drain from Jan's body as he told a deliberately monotonous story of Donna's brief fame as a dancer before she'd met Jack and hinted that it wasn't entirely her fault that the marriage hadn't turned out well.
"For that matter," he concluded with a sigh, "though you're much too young to have discovered it, and I hope you never do, marriage isn't always the happy ending the fairy tales promise."
Jan sensed Val was speaking of himself (as he'd intended) and suddenly felt sorry for this man who outwardly appeared to have everything. She had a vague recollection of Marge's mentioning he was married but not working very hard at it. Poor Val, it must be the other way around for his wife to go traipsing off, leaving him alone so much. Nothing like that could ever happen to Scott and her when they were so in love, she mused. Val gave her a gentle hug and leaned over to start the car. She felt somehow forlorn away from the consoling warmth of his arm. How she missed Scott!
"You haven't had things so easy lately yourself, have you, Janet?" His concerned question seemed to follow her thoughts.
"Not really, I guess. I hate being alone... " she hesitated, for some reason feeling it would be disloyal to discuss her husband with Val.
"Now that's not true, you have friends... we are friends aren't we? You wouldn't deny me the pleasure of your company, letting me take you out to show you off to bolster my aging ego. Now would you?"
"Thank you, Val, that's very sweet of you. But there's so much else, other things that I can't help worrying about."
Once started, with Val's skillful urging Janet found herself confiding in him about the problems of money, the lack of it for the house and the growing stack of bills. They were standing at her door before she realized the import of her words.
"I'm so sorry," she gasped. "I've no right to tell you all my problems. And my car, it's at the Inn! I forgot all about it, I've been so busy crying on your shoulder!"
Though 'crying' had been a figure of speech, without warning Jan found herself doing exactly that as Val's arms closed around her and she leaned into the shelter of his masculine strength.
"Don't cry, baby, it's going to be all right."
His words were soothing but she could feel the sudden tensing of his strong frame as his arms tightened their grasp. Against her will she clung to him as a mutual flame of desire welded their straining bodies in a passionate embrace. Her breasts caught fire and the taut nipples burned into his chest, her hips arched into his and the swelling pressure of his aroused penis prodded at her pelvis like a shaft of hot iron.
Abruptly, panic shot through her like an icy draft penetrating a warm room and she wrenched herself from his embrace. Or had he pushed her from him? Jan couldn't be certain, their bodies had been pressed together as if magnetically pulled by some carnal witchcraft. With the release of the spell they were standing close to each other, but no longer touching. Then the tips of Val's fingers tilted her chin with a gentle touch and his warm mouth brushed her lips in a brief, almost shy caress.
He was already striding down the walk as Jan turned blindly to the door.
"I'll have your car sent around in the morning, Janet. And remember, don't worry.
Everything will work itself out," he called over his shoulder in a low, matter-of-fact tone.
The cold smile of satisfaction on his face was lost in the dark shadows of grey dawn.
CHAPTER SIX
Janet had reached her bedroom with the feeling of coming into a safe harbor after an extremely-dangerous passage. She'd undressed hastily in the dark and crawled between the chill sheets of the vast, unfriendly bed too exhausted to even remove her make-up.
But as soon as she'd closed her eyes she felt more wide awake than she could ever remember being. The episode in the ladies' room, Donna's obscene accusations, her pawing hands and hungry mouth formed a sickening picture in her mind. Tears of shame had come to her eyes at the thought of that instant's response of her body.
That humiliating scene had been quickly crowded out by the bewildering question uppermost in Jan's thoughts. Why had she surrendered to Val's embrace with an emotion so unexpected and total, so overwhelmingly beyond her control? She seemed to have been mesmerized by some alien physical attraction to a man she wasn't quite sure she even liked, although he had been kind and understanding. There could never be anyone for her but Scott. Yet as consciousness faded Jan's tired body had shivered with the remembrance of Val's hard erection welded to the eager thrust of her aroused desire.
She awoke at ten o'clock, almost as exhausted as when she'd gone to bed.
Jack's Cabin Inn was closed on Mondays so this was her day off. Though that was such a fallacy that Jan groaned inwardly. When Scott was home, taking care of the lovely new house had been a joyful task. Now she seemed to be living in a void of increasingly meaningless drudgery. Resisting the temptation to try for another brief respite from her problems in sleep, she got up resolutely to tackle the week's build-up of household chores.
In the filtered sunlight falling through the translucent bathroom window she studied her face in the mirror. Familiar, yet this day the face of a stranger. The amethyst-colored eyes stared back, their normal friendly clarity gone.
They now looked bleakly hostile and bewildered. Otherwise, the face looked as always and she turned away quickly, full lips twisted slightly in self-contempt.
Under the full blast of the shower her flesh quivered with the shock of the piercing merciless needles. The water at her back probed at the tiny fingernail scratches on her buttocks which stung like razor-cuts. She forced herself to stand straight and unflinching under the stabbing punishment. The pain was somehow satisfying.
Betty came yawning and stretching into the kitchen as Jan was rinsing an accumulation of food encrusted dishes in the sink. She felt an unreasonable surge of anger that the kitchen was in such a mess. Why should she be cleaning up after Scott's sister when the girl had absolutely nothing to do? Immediately Jan regretted her anger, thinking her own disquiet was making her too critical. After all, Betty was only a kid. Though as she turned to stack the plates in the dishwasher she was momentarily startled at the way the teenagers mature curves spilled from her brief bikini.
"Going swimming so early, Bets?" The choice of words was unfortunate, Jan discovered.
"It's not all that early really. You got in pretty late didn't you?" Betty answered, hooding her eyelids in a curious way that was to become a familiar enigma.
"Yes, I guess I did at that." The octopus of guilt in her chest clutched at Jan's heart.
"You look pretty tired, Jan. Maybe you're trying to do too much."
"Oh, the gang just went out for breakfast after work."
Now why did I say that, Jan wondered as Betty slammed out the back door. What I do is my own business. I didn't have to tell that little snip anything, certainly not such a stupid lie. She banged the cupboard doors and all else that came to hand while restoring the kitchen to its normal pristine neatness.
Jan attacked the other rooms with dust cloth and vacuum with grim determination, as if straightening up the house would clear the disorder from her mind. Disposing of the trash behind the garage she remembered Val's promise to take care of her car, and was thankful to find it in the drive. The hot afternoon sun on her back was a soothing balm on the tense jangle of nerves at the nape of her neck and she stared at the shining little machine with a new awareness. Funny she mused, how the power of money can perform pleasant favors so easily. The sound of young voices raised in spontaneous laughter mingled with frolicking splashes of water drifted across the neighboring hedge. A pained nostalgia pinched Jan's throat as she left the bright day for the shadows of the empty house.
Her footsteps dragged with a new weariness while she gathered up the soiled linen and tackled the laundry. She was folding the last of the towels, warm and fluffy from the dryer, when the telephone and the doorbell rang almost simultaneously.
"I'll get the phone!" Betty came bounding up the rear steps.
So Jan let the phone ring and went to the door. It surprised her to see a delivery boy on the steps. She thanked him rather uncertainly for the long florist's box she found in her arms. Who in the world would be sending her flowers? The fellow was whistling down the walk before she could tell him there must be some mistake, and Betty was calling her to the phone.
The ensuing ten or fifteen minutes left Jan in an agony of frustrated embarrassment. Val Wexler was on the other end of the line and Betty listened with rapt attention to Jan's side of the conversation, all the while exclaiming rapturously over his gift of three dozen long stemmed roses.
His reason for calling, Val explained, was to make certain Jan's car had been sent round.
She felt it would have been boorish not to thank him warmly for the car and the flowers, the card from which her young sister-in-law was waving in her face. When he urged her to have dinner with him Jan attempted to make her refusal impersonal and noncommittal. She grew increasingly uncomfortable at Betty's unabashed eavesdropping, realizing that most of what she said consisted of expressions of gratitude. "Thank you, yes (the car had been delivered)". "Thank you (for the roses, yellow to brighten her day - besides red would have been put to shame by her hair)."
"Thank you, but I really can't (brighten his day in return by dining with him)."
When Jan finally managed to terminate the conversation in a manner she hoped wasn't completely ungracious she knew her deep flush betrayed her guilty agitation. She was aware that against her better judgment she secretly would have enjoyed the luxury of having Val take her out to dinner. In trying to stave off Betty's effusive questions she found herself trapped in another lie, explaining that Val was an old friend of the family. Betty's piquant face wore a peculiar expression of insolent feline satisfaction. Damn it, Jan fumed, why should I allow her to always put me on the defensive?
Betty had wandered off somewhere with the boy next door, so after eating a lonely, somewhat frugal meal Jan settled down to a task she'd been dreading. The comfortable den was a haven against the growing dusk. The profusion of yellow roses, a reminiscent reflection of sunshine in the lamp's glow, permeated the air with a heady perfume, but she halted in the act of pulling out a chair at the desk and transferred the crystal vase of fragrance to the living room.
As she returned to the desk the lingering scent seemed to touch her spine with a funeral chill and she shivered in the warm evening breeze. Mentally and physically tired from lack of sleep and the nervous exertion of the day she began sorting through the pile of mail on the desk. A good many of the envelopes were still sealed. She hadn't bothered to open them as they were delivered, knowing they were notices of payments past due. The original please remit on statements and bills had intensified over the weeks to ominous 'if this isn't taken care of by' intimidation which she had postponed facing.
One of the unfolded sheets was the last letter Jan had from Scott, a few lines scribbled on a scrap of notepaper. Several of the words were splotched and blurred by the tears that flowed as she'd searched for a hint of warmth and comfort between the rather prosaic lines. Unlike some timid souls who can pour out feelings on paper, Scott's natural reticence carried over to the written word. Torrid love letters were simply not his forte; he considered such displays of emotion rather in bad taste. Despite Jan's awareness of this and her knowledge that his love went far deeper than the superficiality of mere words, she longed for a tangible reassurance that wasn't forthcoming in Scott's meager letters.
Her tired mind blundered into corridors of the past and Jan stared at the page until the lines were a meaningless blur before her eyes. She finally put Scott's letter aside and attacked the pile of bills with a forced burst of determination.
After working in deep concentration over columns of figures for some time she threw down her pencil and slumped back with a groan of desperation. A dozen or more scratch sheets hen-tracked with a tangle of arithmetic lay scattered in with the bills. Her head throbbed and she closed her eyes to blot out the puzzle spread before her, a frustrating jigsaw of unmatchable pieces. No matter how she figured there simply was not enough money coming in to appease the baying creditors.
The brittle peal of the telephone startled her from the depths of a blue funk. She lifted the receiver to the welcome sound of Marge's cheerful voice. Harry was out of town, Marge complained, and she was feeling down in the dumps. Wouldn't Jan please keep her company for a while?
"Honestly, Marge, I'm too tired to be much of a companion to anybody tonight," Jan told her dispiritedly.
"Then I know just the thing, hon. Meet me at the Inn and we can cheer each other up over a couple of drinks and relax those weary bones in the steam room."
"But its closed, and besides - " The image of a dank basement wasn't very appealing.
"Sure its closed," Marge swept Jan's beginning protest aside. "How else could we females use that inner sanctum downstairs? Don't worry, I've sneaked in there before and there's nothing like a steam bath to cure a hangover or take the kinks out."
Jan knew Marge had a key to the club for she frequently locked up at night. Though it seemed somewhat dishonest for her to make use of it like this. Her eyes focused on the discouraging paperwork littering the desk and she was overcome by a desire to get out of the house.
"Okay, Margie," she interrupted the urgent flow of words. "I'll meet you there in about twenty minutes."
She put down the phone and with a twinge of guilt shuffled the bills and figures out of sight in a drawer. It was as she scrawled a note to Betty, saying merely she'd gone to the Inn with Marge, that the feeling of apprehension returned, and she dialed Marge's number to tell her she'd changed her mind. The line was busy and as Jan sat with a hesitant hand on the receiver the silence of the house weighed on her like an imprisonment. Oh, Lord, she wondered, what's the harm? Any slight diversion seemed preferable to facing the long evening alone with her thoughts, so she might as well go she decided.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Marge was half hidden in the shadows at the front door of the Inn when Jan drove in the lot. The recessed entrance was a pool of darkness in the fast fading daylight and it lent a rather sinister illusion of furtive stealth to her superb figure. Jan parked the car a short distance away. As she approached the building a secret, sleeping animal instinct stirred a warning of danger in her mind, but it quickly died under the assault of Marge's outspoken greeting.
A stairway leading down to the Athletic Club was directly inside the foyer, cleverly concealed by sliding doors that blended into the panelled walls thus making it virtually undetectable. Because of this proximity to the street the club members were able to come and go unobserved by the general public.
Janet herself was astonished when Marge led the way down the thickly carpeted stairs.
She'd been aware a service stairwell was located off the kitchen corridor but as that area wasn't her province she'd rarely seen it used. In fact, Jan's knowledge of the subterranean oasis consisted of little more than a vague impression it might be the scene of an occasional poker game rather than one of gymnastic effort.
Therefore the picture that came to life when Marge flipped a switch at the bottom landing was almost unbelievable. Jan stood with one hand on the banister and stared in open-mouthed amazement at the incongruous setting bathed in a clear yellowish-amber glow.
It was in actuality a sort of gymnasium, but more opulent than a Roman emperor's wildest dream. A rectangular swimming pool was an iridescent sea flowing the length of the room, a gently undulating rainbow in the play of varicolored underwater lights. A broad expanse of pale yellow, almost white carpet stretched like a golden border of sand from the pool's edge to the outer walls. These were hung with a silken sheen of softest blue, the heavenly blue of a cloudless horizon on a June morning. Lush tropical greenery sprouting from sunken planters completed the exotic illusion of some South Sea mirage shimmering in the desert sun.
For long moments Jan stood motionless, lost in the impossible fantasy, but the spell was broken as her wandering gaze focused on scattered groups of modern gymnastic equipment. The hulking objects were obscene intrusions of gleaming chrome, polished brass and supple leather. Yet these too created an impression of Dali-like unreality. For even to Jan's untutored eye they took on strange, anachronistic shapes.
The exercise machines loomed as mutilated merry-go-round stallions, headless padded horses arrested in mid-air, doomed to prance forever in legless suspension. In the wavering light the muted gleam of barbells, weights, dumb-bells, exercise rings and isometric bars had the medieval appearance of rack and screw.
Marge's contralto laugh halted Jan's probing eye. "Isn't this wild?" she asked. "Just a few toys for the idle rich to play around with. Come on, let's have that drink."
The bar on which she was leaning certainly bore no relation to the past. It jutted in futuristic angles from a mirrored wall by the stairwell with a brittle glitter of plexiglass and stainless steel. Transparent glass shelving protruding from the expanse of mirror held a myriad of liquor decanters and goblets. It created the illusion they were floating through space in reflected liquid hues that ranged from palest chartreuse to rich burgundy black.
Jan climbed on a free form lucite stool that made her feel rather like an out-sized frog perched on a giant inverted mushroom and managed to find her voice.
"But I thought there was just some sort of old steam or sauna room down here!" she exclaimed in bewildered amazement.
"Oh, those are through the arch over there," Marge said with an airy wave of one arm. "Or would you rather take a dip in the pool?"
"But I don't have a bathing suit." Jan took a deep swallow from the tall frosty glass Marge shoved across the bar and gasped for breath as the amber fluid burned down her throat. It was a mixture of fire and water but soon the initial sharpness fused into a radiating glow of warmth that enveloped her body.
"Bathing suit! Good God, there's nobody here but me!" Marge laughed again but she gave the younger girl a long smoky look over the rim of her glass. After taking a long pull on her drink she added softly, "Then again, that's no guarantee of anything."
Jan drained her glass to hide the peculiar sense of confusion Marge's husky tone had induced. As the fiery liquid intensified the spreading heat in her veins, the cool shimmer of water in the pool looked doubly inviting. I'm probably acting like a silly prude, she thought, and with a new lightness of spirit slipped from the high perch and removed her clothes with trembling fingers.
Marge had already started to undress as Jan hesitated, and she straightened from gathering up her scattered garments to find the voluptuous blonde standing nude at the pool's edge. Testing the water with a tentative, slender foot, Marge cast a lazy, languid look over the pink marble slope of her shoulder.
"Come on in, sugar, the water's fine." She walked down the steps into the shallow water until it lapped with teasing ripples at the golden triangle of her pubic hair.
Jan unaccountably found herself becoming more excited with every passing moment. The glow of the drink Marge had poured was now a raging inferno of aroused desire that spread with unchecked fury through every fiber of her being. Burning tendrils of lust gripped savagely at her throat and she gasped for breath as a sudden weakness held her momentarily rooted to the spot. Her violet eyes misted over to a murky purple as they stared at the partially submerged Valkyrie in the pool. Then the haze cleared and strength surged back through her limbs as quickly as it had drained away. With a graceful, purposeful stride Janet walked lightly over to the golden sand in answer to the Siren's call.
Halting on the top step, the tepid water was as icy fingers caressing her burning flesh. She looked down into Marge's uplifted face.
"You have a beautiful body, Marge." Jan recognized the husky whisper as her own, but for an instant she felt strangely disembodied as though her mind hovered in space, a separate entity from the white pillar of molten flesh standing in the shallow wash.
Then a sudden roar of passion filled her ears and she was once more whole as Marge fell to her knees on the step below and ran her hands slowly from the curve of Jan's ankles to the lush swell of her hips with firm, caressing strokes. A stream of quicksilver raced through Jan's body and swirled in her breasts until they ached with its heavy weight.
She could feel her nipples hardening and swelling with an almost unbearable pain of pleasure. Scarcely aware of what she was doing her hands flew to her breasts and squeezed and kneaded the aching, swollen globes.
"Don't, baby, let Margie do that for you. Just hang on to me and let me take care of you."
Marge pulled Jan's hands to her shoulders, replacing their clutching grip on Jan's breasts with her own caressing fingers as she began covering the flat plain of Jan's belly with hot lip-nibbling kisses.
"Oooooh... yes, Margie... yes!" The wet, teasing mouth seemed to penetrate into the depths of her womb and Jan felt a warm gush of moisture flow from within to drench the hungry furrow throbbing between her thighs.
Marge's hands were an exquisite torture on her breasts and she pushed herself fiercely into the kneading palms. Looking down Jan watched the long pink nipples flush to a deep crimson and they thrust from between the strumming fingertips like tiny phallic twins. The erotic image of her own quivering flesh filled her with a strange delight.
"Oh, God, I'm on fire!" she moaned.
Marge's tongue was a darting flame in the tiny aperture of her navel and Jan's fingers clutched wildly at her hair, trying to press Marge's head down to her straining hips. She spread her legs wide and her pelvis began an undulating rhythm against the press of Marge's face.
"Please, Marge... "
"Mmm?" Marge's voice was muffled. "Wait, Jan... not yet," she murmured.
She shifted her position slightly and her tongue slid downward and became entangled in the damp mass of pubic curls. She lapped savagely in Jan's distended cunt, then her mouth traveled quickly to the silken smoothness of Jan's thigh. Her tongue traced a wet pattern down the inner side of one leg then darted over to the other leg and licked slowly upward.
Jan was almost sobbing now. The fire of lust within her raged out of control and her hips bucked wildly back and forth on legs stretched wide in trembling tension.
"Now, please! Kiss me there... my cunt... now! Ohhhh...!" Her pleading voice spiraled to a demented pitch as her body writhed with demanding desire. She swayed and would have fallen if Marge's hands hadn't dug into the pulpy cheeks of her buttocks.
Holding the soft globes in a firm grip, Marge buried her face in the drenched furrow of downy pubic hair and her mouth sucked thirstily at Jan's enflamed vaginal lips. She felt the moaning girl's entire body give a convulsive lunge as her tongue plunged deep in the yawning cunt slit, and the vaginal muscles tightened and grasped at the licking probe.
Her tongue massaged the fleshy tunnel then darted a teasing lick at the tiny clitoral bud. It grew erect and quivering under her caress and her lips closed around the tumescent mound of flesh, sucking at it avidly.
A continuous stream of mewling animal sounds poured from deep within Jan's throat as a towering wave of rapturous sensation engulfed her. Her tortured body was a gaping, lusting mouth ravenous for Marge's feeding lips. Her enraged cunt ground down to devour the succoring tongue which moved more rapidly now until it plunged in and out of the convulsing vaginal flesh like a viciously darting snake.
Marge felt Jan's buttocks suddenly tense and the soft globes hardened to marble in her hands. Her prodding tongue was stilled in a tight, solid corridor of gripping flame. For a fiery moment she couldn't breath and it seemed as if her life's blood was being wrenched violently from her body up through her captive lips.
Then abruptly the taut ass cheeks in her hands melted to a churning softness of quivering muscle. Her tongue was buffeted by rolling, heaving waves of spasmodically jerking flesh and a freshet of warm, sweet fluid flowed from above to quench the fire in her gasping throat. Her own arousal rose to meet the descending cloudburst of passion and she writhed with a tumult of nerve-racking tremors as she held Jan's convulsing body in her arms.
For moments that seemed to last an eternity Janet fought to bring her seething mind and body down to some level of reality. Her thoughts spiraled in the circles of one lost and foundering in the terrifying void between nightmare and awakening. Eyes still fogged with passion she stared at the blur of blue sky and golden shore and they merged with the iridescent water into a shimmering kaleidoscopic whirl.
Seated on the shallow steps of the pool she cupped the water coiling round her waist and let it trickle over her feverish body. Slowly her vision cleared. She heard what seemed to be at first a buzzing, whirring sound, then realized dimly it was Marge's voice speaking quietly somewhere in the room. And she wanted her, needed her! The sensual warmth that had been smoldering in Jan's body suddenly burst into a roaring flame of desire. Her hands ceased their idle splashing and cupped the heaving mounds of her breasts.
Oh God, she cried out in an agony of shame from some inner recess of her mind, what's happened to me? Why am I doing this? This couldn't be happening to her, Janet White, Scott's wife - .
And then intense passion consumed her and she followed it blindly. It was as if she had no mind of her own, no will. The brief prod of anguished remorse was trampled by a wild animal lust that left no space for rational thought or decision.
Compulsively, without being aware of her actions she ran her hands over her breasts. Her fingers fondled the hard pointed nipples and merely touching them sent thrills of delicious pleasure coursing through her. She could feel a churning response deep inside and one hand slid beneath the water to the juncture between her thighs. It played in the soaked tendrils of pubic hair, then burrowed in the slippery cunt flesh where her own warm juices flowed and mingled with the cooler liquid of the pool. She extended her forefinger, stroking the clitoris gently. Reaction was instantaneous and she strained against her own crotch, pressing her fingers hard against the hungry wetness between her legs.
Marge's breath caught in her throat and the hand holding the telephone receiver close to her ear trembled as she watched the mounting agitation of girl and water in the pool. Jan's white flesh had flushed to a rosy-beige glow of heated desire as she leaned back and braced her shoulders on the pool's rim, stretching her long, well-tapered legs before her.
The heavy fullness of her breasts thrust upward to the kneading fingers that rubbed the crimson nipples to hard, swollen erection. Her hooded eyes stared wildly, unseeingly into space and a tiny stream of spittle drooled from the corner of her slack, sensual lips. Her head tossed furiously back and forth.
As Marge watched the dew-dropped torso, Jan arched her hips and the mahogany thatch of her pubic mound protruded in the air. The fine tendrils of hair were a silken floss of tiny snakes floating in the roiling whirlpool of the girl's exploding fury. She could see Jan's distended vaginal lips emerging from the water-parted curls, opening and closing, grasping hungrily at the fingers rapidly plunging in and out of the pulsing hair-lined cunt slit.
She almost let the phone slide from her desire-sweated fingers until the sound of an angry sputter crackling from the receiver forced her avid attention away from the flame-tressed Aphrodite helplessly writhing in a sea of lust.
"Sorry, Jack. Yes, yes, I can hear you." Her voice was a husky whisper and she winced, holding the still vibrating instrument away from her ear.
"I told you I gave it to her," she answered the garbled spate of noise coming from the other end of the line. "Don't worry, she's all primed... and how!" Marge's eyes wandered back to Jan's convulsing form. The girl was moaning now and the lower part of her body had slipped down out of sight. But her fingers were still caught in the vise-like grip of her cunt and her hand sawed wildly up and down in the churning water.
"Dammit, she's ready!" Marge's tone rose to an excited pitch and the firm pendulous globes of her breasts rose and fell with her quickened breathing, the pointed nipples quivering in agitation.
"All right, one more just to make sure... yes, I will," she insisted. "Yes... me too, but I'm so hot now I'm going out of my skull. Hurry up, you bastards! Five minutes!"
She slammed down the telephone and turned to grope among bottles hidden in a recessed well of the bar. Sonofabitch, she thought, Jan's hotter than a firecracker already.
Nevertheless she followed her boss's instructions and splashed generous portions of a faintly musky aphrodisiac liqueur into the tall glasses.
Janet drained the glass Marge put in her hand in one long throat searing draught, instinctively trying to quench the fire burning in the furnace of her entire being, the blaze she'd tried in vain to tear out with her bare hands. She realized vaguely that the drink was fighting fire with fire. Wading deeper into the pool, the swirling foam eddied around her, tugging at her permissive flesh until she seemed to be struggling in a mire of cloying quicksand. The enveloping rush of water brought no relief from the heat consuming her.
She finally managed to make her way back up the sloping bottom of the side of the pool. Clinging to the narrow marble rim at its edge she pressed the length of her body against the smooth tile of the restraining wall. The cool hard surface eased her fevered flesh and she strained against it fighting for control. Her hands and feet were icy, her body hot and trembling. Her eyes searched desperately as though seeking their way out of a mirrored maze, and at last succeeded in delineating the lines and angles of the modernistic bar.
She felt she had crossed the threshold into some area beyond reality, a space in time where nothing existed except an inner world of physical sensation. A strange thrill of exultant anticipation possessed her as she turned to look in the direction of the sound of voices coming from the foot of the stairs. Several masculine figures wavered across her line of vision but she could recognize only the one advancing towards her. Oh no, she thought wildly, it's Jack Quillan, our boss!
Her first impulse was the natural urge to cower beneath the water to hide her nakedness, and she felt a stab of horror that her body was powerless to obey it. Without volition her arms rested on the apron of the pool, spilling her magnificent breasts on the soft carpet in a pagan offering of blood-tipped white flesh.
Jack stared with hot eyes at the full breasts palpitating at his feet. Dropping swiftly to one knee he cupped the heavy mounds in the palm of his hands with a hard, almost vicious grip. He tweaked the nipples with strong thumbs, running his fingernails over the tip until they lengthened and turned a deep vibrant crimson under the punishing pressure.
The scream of pain that welled from deep in Jan's throat changed to a hoarse groan of passion as it escaped her lips. The harsh, scraping fingers on her throbbing nipples filled her with an exquisite pain that turned her loins to liquid fire. Raising one hand she ran it up his inner thigh, clawing at the corded muscles, struggling to reach the bulge at his crotch.
"You're a hot little bitch, aren't you? Hornier than hell!" Jack stood up away from her clutching fingers, a lewd grin distorting his face.
"Don't leave me... please," she whimpered. She gulped for air and rubbed her aching pelvis madly against the side of the pool. His cock! Her drugged brain screamed out with a deafening roar. I've got to have it, got to have his cock, got to have - went round and round in a demanding torrent through her head, drowning out the sound of his voice, eclipsing all else but her lustful, hurting need.
"Just hang on baby, and we can ball all night." Jack slipped one hand into the waistband of his trousers to relieve the pressure of swollen flesh straining at the stretched material.
"Oh, hell!" he muttered and unzipped the fly instead. As he went in search of a towel his fingers eased the expanding penis from his shorts and it was a tumescent wand waving before him.
Janet felt herself being lifted from the water, then rough hands were working at her body.
She could feel their pawing heat through the thickness of the soft towel that was a tantalizing itch scrubbing at her skin. She struggled wildly to rid her body of the imprisoning barrier, to be free to feel that hot flesh meeting hers. The illusion of foundering in the half world of a waking dream returned to her fogged mind. Or was it a dream? Scott, my love, my love - she struggled helplessly to grasp the image, to hold it. The memory, the reality was fading and once more she felt herself sinking without protest in a slow rising sea of unreality. Ah, no... all else was the dream. The reality is here, now, in this overwhelming, soaring exquisite sensation of lusting flesh on lusting flesh - Jan felt eager hands on her breasts, running over the curves of her thighs and buttocks.
Finally freed from the smothering folds of cloth she found herself grasping at hard rods of burning flesh. With bewildered joy she looked down at the huge cudgels in her hands, massive swollen cocks, their blood filled heads throbbing wetly in her fingers. Her hips rotated from side to side as she struggled desperately to draw them both to the aroused triangle between her straining thighs.
"Goddammit, you bastards! I told you I get her first!"
A sharp blow on the side of her head sent Jan reeling backward and she tumbled in a panting heap on the thick carpet. Through swirling pinwheels of pain she saw ripples of naked flesh towering over her. As she grabbed wildly for a distended male organ, stabbing at nothingness in the air it was jerked rudely from her grasp and she cried out with frustration. She tried to get up from the floor and managed to struggle to a kneeling position but the heavy weight of desire in her loins was like molten lava. It burned its way downward through her vagina and surged through her legs, dragging her to her hands and knees, making it impossible for her to stand.
"All right, you bitch, you want it so bad... come and get it!" The harsh command penetrated her lust like the crack of a whip.
Sinewy fingers caught in the flowing mane of her hair and twisted savagely, forcing her head back. The cruel pressure sent tingling shock waves to her brain and her eyes glittered with an animal comprehension as the tortured girl stared at her tormentor's naked body. Her eyes traveled from the brutish lust on Jack Quillan's face to the bulging, almost womanly pectoral muscles of his chest over the pulpy paunch of his belly and down the mat of black curls that led from his navel to a dense growth of pubic hair. His penis hung down limply against the background of heavy, slightly swaying scrotum fuzzed with black down. Even in a state of soft suspension, the pale column of his cock was as large as many a phallus at the peak of erection.
The mad light of desire in Jan's eyes clouded with a tinge of fear. Her tongue darted out to lick her full underlip and the muscles of her throat worked convulsively as she stared with hypnotic fascination at the monstrous penis. Oh God, even if it split her asunder she had to have it, had to feel that dormant muscle swelling, expanding, filling her aching womb with liquid life, putting out this fire that was burning her alive! With a tremendous wrench she tried to shake off her captor's grip, to spring at the fountain of desire like some wild creature devouring its prey.
Jack's laugh was a guttural rasp in his throat. "Okay, cunt, come and get it," he repeated.
"But crawl! Beg! You hear me?"
His grip on her hair tightened, and it felt as though the taut tendrils were being yanked out by their roots. Then he released his hold with such an abrupt jerk that the folds of her scalp suctioned back to her skull in a snug cap of a thousand pricking needles. But the demented drive of lust consuming her was greater than any pain, any terror, any humiliation. Her crouched body swayed unsteadily, from side to side, breasts jiggling, shoulders and buttocks heaving, legs and arms shaking. The crown of chestnut hair cascaded down over her face, obscuring her vision and she shook it back with a violent jerk of her head. Then with disjointed, crablike motions she started to crawl across the floor in dog-like obedience.
The man glanced back over his shoulder at the mound of lustrous flesh and muscle quivering to comply with his bidding and a lewd, sadist' ! grimace of satisfaction touched his face. He led the panting girl at his heels to a small room directly in back of the mirrored wall and peered for a moment into the reverse side of the mirror. The outer room wavered dimly through the glass, but at the flick of a switch the lighting gradually increased until the poolside area was illuminated with the brilliance of noon-day sunlight.
By some trick of the two-way glass everything appeared to be larger than life. The shimmering body of water became an ocean swell lapping at the sandy beach, the green, potted fronds had grown to waving palms and the blue sky reflected a sun-white glare.
The padded leather flanks of the decapitated steeds seemed flecked with a faint gleam of moisture, the film of exertion from a brisk canter in the sun. A group of naked figures lounging with arms entwined at the end of the bar seemed to hover so near that he had but to reach out his arm to touch the nude tableau.
Janet was close on his heels, sobbing now, great heaving gasps that wracked her crouching form and she trembled from head to foot. Her fingers clawed at his legs and thighs as she fought to climb to her feet. Digging her hands in his but- tocks she managed to pull herself upright, her fingertips streaked with the blood her sharp nails had raked from his flesh.
"You God damned fucking tramp!" With a sharp pistol crack his hand shot out and struck her violently across the mouth.
She staggered backward and collapsed on a low couch, her head hitting the wall with a dull thud. Pain roared through her brain in a jagged vortex of streaked lightning.
Momentarily, lust was blotted out by stark horror. I must be mad! The thought crossed her mind as an arrow of pain blinded her eyes, and the taste of blood was warm in her mouth.
She bared her teeth with an agonized groan and opened her eyes. They were maniacal, glittering.
Then his mouth was brushing the inside of her thigh, his shallow breathing hot on her flesh. She had to get up, to get away. She tossed her head and gulped great mouthfuls of air, but her body was frozen to his mouth, chained to his lips by invisible links of desire.
Her brain whirled dizzily as though snapped of all reason by lust and fear.
"Go ahead, take me! Fuck me!" The words tumbled from Jan's bruised lips. "Now... I'm begging you!"
Jack straightened to his knees, searching her face with hard eyes. Her bruised lips were slack with passion. Pale ruby drops of saliva oozed from the corner of her mouth and strings of blood stained her teeth like lipstick. His hard eyes blurred with the flat, opaque blindness of lust, his mouth twisted with a lascivious leer.
"All right, baby, it's all yours."
He leaned over and slapped the full length of his erect penis on the flat plane of her stomach. For a split second Jan lay perfectly still and the muscles beneath the pulsing weight gave a convulsive lunge. Her entire body seemed to hold its breath, engulfed in overwhelming sensation. Her nipples stiffened to erect points and a rush of moisture soaked the cushion under her thighs. Every nerve end was a focal point of sensual desire.
She reached out with both hands, grabbing at his shoulders to pull him to her. Arching her back and thrusting her hips upward she tried to twist her body against his, to bring his swollen cock to the straining lips of her cunt.
His hands were on her breasts, kneading and squeezing the fleshy mounds. Jan could feel the excitement racing through her as he rolled the hardened nipples between thumb and forefinger with an almost brutal pressure. He covered her mouth powerfully, with his probing tongue a white heat cauterizing her bleeding flesh. Despite the pain her lips opened under his crushing kiss, receiving his tongue, sucking it deep into her throat. Her own tongue met and caressed and fenced with it with feverish thirst.
One hand left her throbbing nipple-tip to roam over her body. It stroked her slim waist then travelled roughly over her hip and massaged the soft globe of her buttocks with strong sinewy fingers, kneading and pinching the fleshy ass-cheek until it felt raw with pain. The tormented muscles flexed spasmodically and her hips twisted and turned in a frantic effort to elude the nagging pincers. Her arched body allowed his prodding fingers to slide into the deep cleft between her squirming buttocks. They were gentle at first, caressing the sensitive crevice with long in and out stroking motions and she shivered with delight.
She felt a strange, mounting excitement when his fingertips came to rest on the tiny quivering ring of her anus. He circled the puckered ridge lightly then quickly increased the pressure and the tight little opening expanded and contracted under his touch. When one finger jabbed into the sensitive flesh, a stab of pain sent a warning of fright up her spine and the muscles of her rectum fought to eject the hurting probe.
Yet even as horrified shock registered in a corner of her mind, the passion in Jan's body was too strong to resist that instant of shattering pain when his finger plunged relentlessly into her tight, constricted anal passage. A shriek died in her throat and a wondrous sensation possessed her as it ripped into the tunnel of screaming flesh like a red hot poker. The muscles inside stretched to welcome the abrasive weapon and gripped tightly on his finger in aroused desire as it plunged in and out with a hard thrusting motion.
Her hips began to undulate with a circling rhythm and drove down against his hand while her buttocks held it in a fierce grip. Pain and passion rose to an exquisite height and she bounced like a rutting animal on his skewering finger. Her hand sought and captured his rock-hard penis and guided it to her soaked cunt slit. She pressed it to the distended vaginal folds. As the bulbous blood-pressured head sucked wetly on the tiny inflamed mound jutting from the streaming nether-lips, the gathering climax in her body exploded like a thunder-clap.
It roared through her in overlapping waves and she ground his finger into her body with wild abandon as she pulled savagely at his cock, trying to worm the monstrous shaft into the flowing mouth of her spasmodically throbbing cunt.
As every muscle in Jan's body grew taut then began convulsing helplessly in his arms, Jack felt a violent surge of hot blood pounding through his swollen cock and a swift churning weight in his balls. His avid tongue sucked harder at her bruised lips, and the sweet warmth of her blood in his mouth seemed as one with the gush of her vaginal fluid on his hand between her jerking thighs.
His own lust now raging out of control, he jerked his hand from the clutch of her writhing anus and bit down cruelly on the tender fold of her lower lip before thrusting her away with a violent shove. With a quick wriggle he scissored his legs around her hips and fell backward, laying spread-eagled on the couch. The rapid motion caused his elongated penis to slap back on his belly with a wet smack, then it bolted upright again in the air. It protruded from the black base of matted pubic hair like an ivory tower, the bulbous head a throbbing, crimson beacon that seemed to glow and pulse with an inner light.
"Go ahead!" His snarling lips were flecked with red, the lust-blurred words barely human.
"You want it so bad, take it, cunt!"
Jan huddled in the angle of his outstretched legs, her body quaking with a paroxysm of unsatisfied orgasm. As she drew her knees to her chin and encircled her legs with her arms to control their shaking, he could see the spread of her distended cunt. The moist, hair-lined lips were opening and closing, gasping, grasping, at nothingness, as though seeking wildly for sustenance to appease their hunger.
"You heard me! Suck it off!" His voice had sharpened to a whiplash command. "Put my cock in your fucking mouth!"
The vulgar debasement of his tone was lost on Jan's sex-muddled brain. Before she was able to comprehend the meaning of his words he struck out swiftly, and his palm stung her cheek a flat jarring blow. The searing pain fanned the uncontrollable desires of her lust and her pent-up frustrations burst free. Moving with a blind senseless fury of sensation she bowed to his will.
Her hands flew to his thighs and the hard muscles tensed then slowly relaxed under the fierce kneading of her fingers. With a grunt of pleasure he stretched his legs. Her flushed face was positioned directly above his erect penis. Like a tiny, lustrous pearl a droplet of seminal fluid oozed from the mouth of the blood-filled head. She examined the semen-glistening gland and a crazy desire exploded in her breast.
A low whining moan bubbled from her throat and she bent down and pressed her lips to the moist, raw tip of his expanding cock. As her tongue darted out to lick at the bittersweet essence a violent shudder rippled through his body. She lapped wildly at the pulsing glans-tip and her nostrils flared at the sharp aroma of passion. Its piquant, salty taste fired her lust and like birds swept in a hurricane gale her hands fluttered to his heavy balls, kneading and stroking the sperm-laden sacs.
The sensation acted as an electric shock on his prone body and his legs strained to enclose her in a vise-like grip. His breath came in wheezing, asthmatic gasps as he wriggled to a half-sitting position. Popping himself on an elbow he locked his eyes on her drug-induced abandon.
The red hair spilling over Jan's shoulders gleamed in the dim light with an electric vibrance as if each individual lock were imbued with an exotic spark all its own. Her lovely face was filled with a vacant, self-absorbed abstraction, a flushed mask of lust that sharpened the delicate features. Passion-weighted lids hooded the violet eyes and the sprinkling of freckles had vanished in the deep surge of color. A diagonal, red-tinged swelling mottled one cheek. There was little to be found of Janet White except for a faint glimmering of horrified anguish locked in the depths of her lust-blinded eyes.
Jack Quillan gloated over the countenance of a sharp-featured, gross, ravenous child.
Momentarily a cruel satisfied contempt overshadowed his desire and his eyes flared with a ruthless, animal like triumph. His face changed and his eyes narrowed as he stared mesmerized at his penis. A smear of red from Jan's cut lip glowed on the stark white column like an open wound. His expression took on a look of carnal delight and he arched his hips to thrust his cock deeper into her mouth.
"That's it, baby," his voice was thick. "Take it in your hands, play with it."
Her hands grasped the thick rod like a club. As his excitement grew, hot blood coursed through the swollen veins and his penis expanded with little jerking leaps in her fingers.
Her tongue worked avidly at the throbbing head, sucking at the open glans-tip to extract the warm, white seminal liquid, mixing it with her saliva until the end of his cock was a huge slippery ball of fire that threatened to stretch the viscous membranes of her cheeks to the bursting point.
As her mouth worked with mindless greed the sharp edge of her teeth scraped at the fleshy ridge of taut foreskin and he uttered a startled grunt of pain. His hips shoved upward, thrusting his cock deep in her throat, almost choking her. Her lips opened and closed in sensation and torment as his pelvis rose and fell, ramming the massive instrument in and out of her bruised mouth. In lusting pain her lips clamped hungrily on the ravaging cock and she sucked and licked with a savage fury. Her hands pistoned up and down on the plunging shaft as though to drive it into the very depths of her body.
The blood-pressured head of his cock expanded to a raw throbbing knob of desire in the burning friction of her suctioning cheeks and lips and tongue. His body writhed and twisted as his arms and legs flailed wildly out of control. Suddenly his fingers tangled in her hair, gripping it tightly, and he yanked her head down against his thighs smothering her face in the coarse brush of pubic hair. Every muscle knotted, his hips arched and his cock stiffened to a rod of steel in her throat. With a final lunge his body lurched forward, shafting the rod in her madly sucking mouth to the hilt.
He let out a long, high-pitched scream as the huge expanded bubble of his cock exploded like a pricked balloon. Great jets of white-hot liquid flooded her cheeks and gushed down her throat as his balls pumped their waiting load of sperm deep in her body. She swallowed in gasping crazed gulps, trying to suck the spurting fluid deep into her hungry womb, to drown the fire in her vagina with seminal rain. Her thighs rubbed together in a furious effort to squeeze out the demanding pain in her wet, throbbing cunt.
Nothing she could do succeeded in appeasing her hunger, pacifying the driving lust that goaded her on. She had to have him in her body! Had to have that plundering penis filling her terrible need! Deep sobs gurgled with the cum seeping into her throat as the well of his scrotum drained and his cock deflated to a flaccid pulp in her mouth. Oh God, she had lost it!
Once more rough hands were pushing her away, denying her. Her mouth worked voraciously at empty air, the livid cheeks sucking in and out on a vacuum of nothingness.
Tiny threads of white milk-like sperm spider-webbed from her glistening lips.
Drawn up in a foetus-like position her body rocked back and forth with her hands raping furiously between her thighs. Rolling climactic waves convulsed her as she huddled against the wall. But it wasn't enough. No sooner had the fire been smothered in her lust ere it seemed to fan itself to a renewed blast of all-consuming desire.
Terror shook her as the merciless monster of passion inside of her gnawed at her loins. A low hum buzzed in her ears and she realized it was the sound of Marge's voice mingled with a low masculine tone. She burst into sobs and flung her tormented body full length on the divan, cringing into the soft foam in an effort to hide her naked shame. Lost in her own degrading misery she failed to heed the muted rumble of conversation in the room.
"Good God, you didn't have to beat her up did you, Jack?"
"Come off it, Marge, you know me better than that. Hell, it's just a little cut on her lips."
Jack met her accusing stare with a sleepy, self-satisfied glance. "It'll be healed up by the time she comes to work tomorrow. I never leave any marks that will show on the girls.
Wouldn't be good for business!"
He wasn't lying. Quillan was always very careful to make sure no outward scars would remain.
"You did a hell of a job in the pool, honey. The kid's a luscious piece and didn't do too bad by herself either. I got some dandy shots of juicy cunt that the guys in the club are going to eat up!" He laughed at his own brand of humor. "I gotta admit you were right about the drinks, though. One would have been plenty, but I think I got her cooled down enough for the pricks out there to control her pussy."
For a moment Marge felt a twinge of regret for what was going to happen in the outer room. Jesus, this one was younger and sweeter than Quillan's gang was used to handling - hardly dry behind the ears!
As she dampened a towel at the wet bar to wipe the dried blood and semen from Jan's face the soft grind of a camera in motion stirred the air.
The cool compress eased the throb of tender flesh on Jan's lip and tamed the red welt on her cheek to a rosy blush, but the fire within her inflamed body raged unabated. Without knowing how she got there she found herself once more by the pool, swaying unsteadily in the support of Marge's arms.
"Oh, Marge, I'm burning up!" she whimpered. "I want... I need... " Her overwrought mind mercifully blanked out the lewd horror of what was happening to her lust-incited body and she couldn't find the words to express the demand of relentless hunger devouring her.
"You want to be screwed, honey, to be fucked to death!" Marge's voice coarsened to a lascivious murmur as a wall of flesh seemed to be closing in, on them. "Just like me!" Oh, hell, she thought vindictively as her voluptuous figure melted into the milling crowd, why should girls like Janet float through life on a bed of roses when all I ever got was shit and shoved in it?
An icy chill of foreboding shivered up Jan's spine as Marge's arm slipped from her waist.
She blinked in the glare of light punishing her eyes. The room whirled dizzily around her but she seemed to sense the sound and smell of animal lust pulsing in the atmosphere.
Her eyes and brain focused just long enough to make her feel lost in a black and white chorus of naked flesh, humped tangles of entwined arms and legs, swaying breasts and grinding buttocks, conducted by giant phallic batons in a writhing score of erotic harmony.
Suddenly the obscene fantasy turned to nightmare reality as she felt herself being drawn roughly into a sea of warm eager flesh. Strong hands ran rampant over her body, caressing the graceful slope of her neck and shoulders, the slim curve of her waist and the full swell of her hips. They drifted across her burning thighs and buttocks. She felt the thrilling pull of voracious lips on her breasts, sucking the nipples to hard, quivering erection. Exploring fingers tangled in her pubic hair, then ventured to the pulsing folds of her vaginal lips, stroking the tender flesh to an exquisite moistness.
Every nerve in her aroused body leaped joyously with lustful, drugged physical ecstasy.
Her heart pounded like a trip hammer then skipped a breathless beat as Marge's words echoed in her brain and poured unthinkingly from her lips.
"Ohhh, yes, yes... I want to be screwed! To be fucked to death!"
The pleading wail had scarcely left her throat when the hands fondling her body turned to hands of steel and the mouth teasing her breasts clamped savagely on the long nipple-tip.
Another mouth ground down on hers, forcing her lips to open, curling them back over her teeth. Two mouths. A multitude of fingers kneading her flesh. With a mounting horror her bewildered mind grasped the fact that more than one masculine body was crushing hers.
She suddenly had the frightening sensation that a pack of wild animals was pawing at her, trying to tear her limb from limb.
This wasn't it! This wasn't what she wanted, longed for, to fulfill her churning desire. Oh God, not this mass of sweating, panting inhumanity that threatened to crush the very breath from her body. She struggled like a wild doe helplessly ensnared.
"Come on boys," hot breath spat close to her ear. "This one needs a little taming!"
"I thought Jack had 'em all willing and eager?" Another voice asked.
"Don't worry about that, man. She's hotter than a firecracker about to go off at both ends.
Right, Bill?"
The third voice came from behind her, followed by a muffled reply in still a different tone.
Jan had closed her eyes, as if by blotting out sight she could wipe all else from the lingering shred of conscious thought in her mind, but now her eyes flew open. There were four of them! No... ! What were they going to do with her? Yet even as they half-carried, half-dragged her struggling form across the carpet, the dark stranger of passion in her body compelled her glance to the erect organs protruding from the heavy-hanging sacs between their legs.
"Hey Bill, Heidi just came in, let's go ball her first and leave this one to Bud and Norm. Not that there isn't enough here to go around," he chuckled lewdly and tweaked Jan's breast.
"What's your name, lamb?"
"Jan... Janet," she answered automatically.
"Okay, Janet baby, save some of that sweet pussy for us. We'll be back!" His hand nuzzled between her thighs and the fingers he withdrew gleamed with moisture.
A shudder rippled through her at his touch and it was all she could do to keep her cunt from pressing down hard on his hand. With the departure of the two men the smothering pressure lessened, but she seemed to be breathing with even greater difficulty. The creamy half-moons of her breasts rose and fell rapidly as her mouth gulped for air. The ruby nipples thrust upward to taut erectness and the flesh below her armpits strained over the full breast mounds as she felt her arms being stretched above her head. She felt the smooth covering of the wall at her back. The cool texture of silk was a sensual caress on her warm sure. skin and she rubbed against it with a feline plea-But why were her arms being held over her head and what were they doing to her hands?
Cold, hard metal bit into her wrists and she raised her eyes to see steel rings pinning her arms to the wall.
Janet had stopped struggling as the rage of lust seized her mind and body, removing all responsibility, all need for decision. But her captured hands fluttered in protest and she tossed her head from side to side. They shouldn't be doing this to her, tethering her like an animal! She tried to pull free and her arms and body managed to move away from the wall, but a stopping tension jerked her body back with a silken slap.
The chrome shackles on Jan's wrists were visibly nothing more than a standard type of muscle building equipment to be found in many gymnasiums and health salons. Although the tension on the pulley was shortened to allow the user a scant two feet leeway.
However the difference in these was that they were constructed on the same principle as the ancient Chinese finger trick, one that had fascinated Janet as a child. She would put two fingers in a long cylindrical tube, one in each end. Then when she tried to withdraw them they wouldn't come free. The harder she pulled, the tighter the grip on her fingers became. The first time she'd played with that simple magic, she'd become truly frightened, almost hysterical, before she stumbled on the secret of release. Yet the trick had always held a hidden, rather terrifying mysticism for her even though she knew she had but to stop struggling to escape and she would be freed.
Although childhood was a never-never land to the nude figure pinned like a lovely white butterfly against the blue silk, perhaps some spark of memory stirred. For after several futile attempts she'd ceased trying to break away and the biting grip on her wrists loosened. Fortunately for Jan she was tall (Quillan's preference). Other girls not of her stature, albeit entirely passive and more willing, had suffered greatly by being literally strung up on the wall.
Jan's companions had taken a lascivious delight in watching her struggles. Each time she strained forward at the end of the tether, the flowing lines of her body arched like a cleanly sculpted Viking goddess poised yearningly at a ship's prow. The voluptuous swell of her thrusting breasts pulsed with a life of their own. The excited nipples lengthened to crimson stamens in a pink diffusion that unfolded like the petals of a rose on the creamy flesh.
Then as she was snapped back snugly to the wall her entire body vibrated like a released quiver in almost orgasmic writhing. The globes of her breasts swung free from her body in oscillating rhythm and her hips and pelvis rotated sensually with each forward thrust of her buttocks.
When Jan finally gave up the losing battle, the motion of her quivering torso underwent a subtle change. Her shoulders pressed tightly to the wall and her back arched sharply, thrusting her pelvis forward. The glossy auburn mound undulated with unmistakable desire from between the straining muscles of her outspread thighs.
She tossed her head in frustrated anguish and clenched her fists in their silvery shackles until the nails dug into her palms. A demented passion clouded her eyes and she glared with lustful hostility at her tormentors. Why didn't they do something to help her? Couldn't they see she was tied to the stake, being burned alive... please, help me... her lusting body cried out in silent agony.
When she thought she couldn't stand the fiery pressure mounting within her any longer, Jan felt strong fingers trailing over her neck and shoulders.
"Now, baby?" A man's voice breathed hotly in her ear. His caressing touch sent a rain of fire pouring through her.
"Ooooh! Yes... now, please," she gasped.
"You want me to fuck you?
Every nerve in her body answered with eager, straining lust. The blood rushed to the tips of her breasts as his hairy chest brushed lightly, tantalizingly against the throbbing nipples.
"Well...?"
He was making her beg, torturing her, but by now she was past caring, nothing mattered, nothing existed but the overwhelming drugged desire pounding in her loins.
"Yessss! Fuck me!" she hissed in total surrender.
Her agonized cry was lost in his mouth as it crushed down on hers with brutal force.
Coarse bristles raked her face as his tongue darted between her teeth and probed hotly in her mouth. His arms enveloped her in a fierce embrace and the length of his body pressed against hers with a raging passion that equaled her own. The ragged flesh of her bruised lips throbbed with pain but she felt nothing but the hard pressure of his rigid penis burning into the soft, resilient cushion of her stomach.
The massive cock felt like a hot, searing poker and she thrust her loins wildly against him as though trying to draw him into her womb through the outer walls of straining flesh. She could feel the hard rod pulsating, burrowing to make an enveloping tunnel of the muscular pelvis fused with hers by the heat of passion. The bulbous weight of its blood-filled head pounded wetly into her belly and its tiny, gasping mouth sucked at the velvet skin.
As he wriggled his hips and groin in a sinuous motion his cock slithered wetly up and down on her body, the taut ripple of underside skin slippery with an ooze of seminal fluid.
The thrust of his hips propelled the heavy weight of his swinging balls to slap against the distended lips of her up-thrust straining cunt.
The tantalizing touch of his hard sperm-laden balls on the soft, moistening fleshy folds drove Jan's inflamed senses to a towering pitch of fury. She buffeted her body madly forward against the stiff penis jabbing into her belly and her buttocks gyrated wildly. She spread her legs and ground down on his balls, squirming to pull them into the gasping, throbbing ache between her thighs. Her hands fought automatically to reach for his cock, to force it to fill the lusting void that seemed to be devouring her very soul.
At the violence of her downward lurch the bonds at her wrists snapped into the flesh with the cruel bit of a sprung bear trap. Excruciating pain was a streak of a thousand knives that stabbed from her flailing fingertips to her toes digging in the carpet. The scream of agony that welled up in her throat turned suddenly to a gasp of exultation as she felt the insistent prod of the bulbous knob of his prick worming hotly into the lips of her vagina.
For a breathing moment the fiery head seemed to belch a dragon's flame into the depths of her body, a blaze that swirled through the vaginal passage to lick at the walls of her womb with a tongue of fire. Then with a great, thrusting lunge his penis reamed into her with the violence of a battering ram. Her whole lower body seemed to be split apart and she jerked back reflexively as the blood-inflated head scraped hard against her cervix.
She was almost lifted from the floor as her body straddled the deeply embedded pole between her legs.
Her helpless form would have been suspended between the gripping pressure on her wrists and the rigid organ impaling her cunt if a strong body hadn't wedged behind her and supported her with balancing hands on the swaying orbs of her buttocks.
Jan had completely forgotten the second man who had helped subdue her struggles. Up until now he'd stood aside, merely watching the tormented writhing of her captive body with a sadistic enjoyment. But as at a prearranged signal the moment his partner guided his penis to Jan's hair-lined cunt slit he insinuated his body between hers and the wall.
At first she was too overwrought to even feel the naked buffer of aroused flesh at her back. Following the initial jerk of withdrawal as the huge penis shafted her loins the demon of lust in her belly engulfed her with renewed fury. This was it at last! This was what they'd been so cruelly depriving her of, the answer to the hunger driving her almost out of her mind.
She shoved her weight with frenzied delight on the huge penis planted in her soft white belly and a groan of relief escaped her lips. Oh God, nothing else existed except the delicious sensation filling the steaming furrow of her body! The hot, swollen rod of his cock pounded at her exposed vaginal walls like a rolling tidal wave in great roaring swells of passion. It surged with convulsive leaps inside of her, filling her every crevice with depraved sensuality. The giant head was like the gulping mouth of a venomous snake, darting, sucking, pulling her soul from her body with every rapier-like stab of his cock.
The first slow easy rhythm had gradually increased until his penis was sliding in and out of the inflamed grasping lips of her cunt with the rapid tempo of a skewering pile driver, pushing the air from her lungs with every inward thrust.
It was then she became vaguely aware of loud grunts from behind her, drowning out the continuous stream of her own low mewling moans.
From the depths of her drugged, barely conscious mind, she suddenly realized her body was being driven back into a wall of heaving flesh. She felt the strong hands cupping her buttocks turn into fierce tentacles that kneaded and pulled at the flexing muscles. An inflated mound stabbing at the back of her thighs pushed through her legs. She heard a wet slap as the balls swinging from the cock pummeling her body smacked the protrusion that had wormed between her legs. Her thighs clenched at the intruding rigidity supporting her hips.
Oh! No... noooo! It was another hard swollen prick! For one fleeting second a shattering wave of hatred, of rending shame and humiliation ripped through the tide of lust enslaving her senses. They couldn't possibly mean to do this to her! They'd tear her apart! Yet the insistent fingers digging into the soft skin of her buttocks, spreading the ripe full globes then probing the opening crevice, told her instinctively what was going to happen.
Janet screamed. It was a sound that was neither animal or human. The unearthly cry of a soul in hell.
The round, hard rod between her legs had wriggled back and found its mark and with an earth shattering jolt had reamed the tense resisting flesh of her tiny anus ring. The man emitted a loud grunt as its bloated head pressured the full length of his cock into the agonized tunnel of Jan's rectum. He pumped madly in and out of the screaming passage almost in tempo with the phallic monster pistoning the tortured girl's vagina.
Her head tossed wildly and her eyes muted to dull purple sockets in her passion-twisted face. Bereft of all conscious thought, her body was a pillar of molten flesh, consumed by overpowering lust. Beyond the pain an excruciating ecstasy welled in her throat, bubbled in her breasts, then gushed down into her belly, then into her thighs. It swirled in her loins and bowels, engulfing the gorging cudgels sheathed in the ravenous passages of blazing flesh. Then with a mighty roar it erupted deep within her. Like water bursting from a river long dammed it flooded her with crashing waves of exquisite, almost unbearable sensation.
It seemed as though her body would shatter into tiny slivers as it jerked and heaved with a torrent of spasmodic shudders that lifted her and shook her in the teeth of orgasmic rage.
Simultaneously the bodies fucking furiously into hers stiffened and pressed her in a vise-like grip. The three entwined figures fused into one, a solid climax of convulsing, writhing flesh.
Janet had no conception of the passage of time for she seemed to lose all contact with reality. Arms held her, hands grabbed her, pinching her breasts, kneading and massaging every nerve, every muscle, -every opening of her body. She was suspended in a white hot exploding moment of time, a vacuum of the never-ending demand of lusting flesh. Her senses turned back into the present in blinking flashes - like a light switch being turned off and on with a maddening monotony.
She was lying flat on her back on the soft carpeting and the deep pile felt like a lush meadow on her fevered flesh. A heavy weight was on her pelvis, pushing her body down, down into the cool grass. Still burning up inside, as her arms reached out wildly to grasp it, slender wrists braceleted with angry red welts, her fingers shook with remembered pain.
Yet a seemingly endless desire goaded her on.
With a will of their own her trembling hands gripped the inflated penis poised over her spread-eagled legs and guided the swollen rod to the crimson lips of her still hungry cunt.
A pale misting of seminal fluid filmed the moist flesh and the blood-filled head slipped with lubricated ease into her insatiable vaginal passage. Her hips moved furiously up and down as though they were a separate entity, a well-oiled piece of machinery rising and falling in rhythm with the fleshy staff drubbing in and out of her cunt.
She rolled her head with sensual pleasure, her flowing hair a ruby stain fanning out on the yellow rug. The room spun in a dizzy whirl around her and with the first flickering of conscious thought she struggled to bring the images spinning before her eyes into focus.
Her gaze fastened on one of the leather exercising horses. She stared at the blur of motion with a mesmerized concentration, willing it to stop.
Then once again her mind clouded as the tearing fulfillment of passion rendered her helpless in a quaking void of orgasm. Body jerking wildly, through blanketing filters of moaning pleasure, she realized dimly that the padded horse couldn't stop.
She felt she was watching a merry-go-round for the lifeless creature was moving up and down with a hydraulic, rhythmic incisiveness. Then a vision of Lady Godiva drifted across her fragmented mind, for the horse had a rider astride his back. A long graceful curve of golden leg gripped the smooth flank, the heel digging into the supple leather as the galloping motion increased rapidly.
Jan's bewildered eyes travelled upward over the gripping knee and full thigh to the lush swell of gleaming hips and buttocks. They were bouncing up and down in wild abandon and she now noticed the long voluptuous lines of the rider's body. The girl was stretched far forward across the horse's back with her arms clinging fiercely to its thick, headless neck. Each time the mechanical steed gave an upward lunge her torso rose in the air. Her breasts swung freely, the pendulous globes just grazing the leather, teasing the long nipples to visible rigid erection.
The horse was going faster and faster and suddenly the padded monster began to vibrate.
Its shoulders rippled, its flanks heaved, even its rump quivered and it seemed transformed to a madly galloping living thing. The girl's body was lifted almost completely from the broad back with the violent increase in tempo and her nails and heels dug into the leather flesh.
Jan gasped as a writhing whip suddenly snaked from nowhere to lash at the rider's naked buttocks. With every downward swoop of the horse's heaving flanks the slender thread of whip flicked across the girl's glowing flesh. Yet she failed to cringe from the stinging lash, instead she seemed to wriggle sensuously to welcome it.
A slow nausea of revulsion rose in Jan's throat. She tried to wrench her gaze from the girl's obvious masochistic joy. For her flying body writhed with a strange sexual stimulation, every muscle flexing and rippling with an unleashed passionate fury. Her dark hair streamed over her face, obscuring all but the lips contorted in lascivious rapture. Her creamy flesh was dewed with a fine perspiration of passion as she swayed and bounced with a hectic frenzy.
The blur of motion and metronome flick of the whip held Jan's eyes with a hypnotic force.
Against her will an alien thrill of excitement chilled her spine. As the girl's body arched high in the air her glance was drawn momentarily to the void of open space between white straining hips and broad expanse of dark leather. Her eyes widened in shocked disbelief, and her drugged mind fought to blot out the significance of the horrifying sight. It couldn't be true, it must be some obscene figment of her confused brain... Her thoughts whirlpooled in unbelieving circles.
For with the mounting tension of Janet's overwrought senses the headless horse and flailing rider had taken on an eerie, nightmarish aspect of reality. But there had been no saddle on the prancing animal's smooth back. There still wasn't, yet rising from the broad surface above his oscillating flanks was what appeared to be a round pommel. But no...
Her eyes were transfixed to the spot.
The decapitated, legless, mechanical monster was further mutilated and deformed. It's huge male-animal organ protruded with erect, obscene lust from its back as though it had been malevolently drawn inside out through the lifeless form. The artificial cock vibrated in the air, a huge rubber phallus motivated to life by the rippling leather skin of the motorized stallion. The full pulsating length of the awesome cudgel flashed wetly into view each time the riders hips swung high at the peak of upward motion.
For the enormous staff was positioned directly beneath the girl's crotch and she rode up and down on it with a mad frenetic ecstasy. With the downward plunge of her body the rubber cock disappeared completely, immersed in the dark tunnel of her vagina. Then on the upward surge the pursed red flesh of her vaginal lips gripped the rubber flesh from the base to the tip where they sucked voraciously before the downward lunge forced the glossy rod deep in her belly. The artificial penis was so massive, and the bucking motion of the machine so violent, it seemed the girl's body would be bent in two by the furious copulation.
Yet Janet realized with a sharp and bewildered intensity that in some horrible and twisted way the unnatural, lewd performance had incited her own lust beyond control. Her back had arched, her cunt opened wide, her hips pumped into the air. A shadowy figure beside her raised up and entered her. At last, there - inside, deeper. Ahhhh... Then passion broke through all restraint and thought was gone again. Lust blinded her eyes.
Her vision gradually cleared as her wayward body still jerked convulsively with the ebbing flow of orgasmic spasms. The animated hobby horse still pranced on its endless journey into nothingness but the rider no longer clung to its neck. The girl had straightened to a long upright column of straining flesh. Only the monstrous inhuman cock impaling her body supported her on the bounding machine. She had it skewered into her vaginal walls with a fierce grip. Every muscle and nerve knotted and pulsed with straining desire as she fought to reach orgasm. Her buttocks moved in lewd circles as she ground her cunt into the soft leather and her flat stomach pulsed with the beat of a second heart as the rubber monster throbbed within her.
The high swell of her breasts jutted proudly from her body, rosy nipples erect and quivering in eager anticipation. There was a primitive, pagan beauty in the taut figure.
Abruptly two things happened at once. The horse stopped dead in mid-air, arrested in its journey. The only motion remaining was a reverberating ripple of pliant leather. A violent shudder jolted through the girl's tense body as though it had been swept by a high-voltage charge of electricity.
She threw her head back and emitted a wild blood-curdling shriek of ecstatic triumph.
Janet's eyes had been glued on the girl's impaled lusting body with an abject, spell-bound fascination that was broken by the chilling scream. Her gaze skittered to the girl's face. An obscene mask of unholy rapture distorted the fresh young features almost beyond recognition. But something about it seemed familiar, the upward tilt of the pert nose, the feathery sweep of brow, the... Was it possible? It simply couldn't be!
"Oh, my God, no!" Jan groaned aloud as her eyes fixed on the wanton face with a growing horror.
She fought desperately to disbelieve what she saw, but there was no escaping it. The figure on the devilish machine, writing in absolute transport of insane sexual climax, was Betty, Scott's sister.
Jan's eyes glazed with shock and dull nothingness paralyzed her brain. She couldn't understand what was happening. What was Betty doing here? And why was she herself caught up in the nightmare of remembered lust, relentless desire that stirred deep in her loins like a sleeping demon that threatened to wake and devour her. Where was Marge who'd brought her here?
Then the impact of reality hit her with a terrifying panic. She wanted to scream, to lash out at the wave of agonizing horror that wracked her confused mind. A feeling of humiliation, of over- powering shame crawled through her body like some slimy worm. Betty, Marge, the physical pain that jabbed at her wrists, her breasts... Everything submerged into her terrible desperate need to get out of there, to escape from that red-black world of depravity. Every instinct was urging her to escape, to get home to safety.
Hardly knowing what she was doing, Jan somehow managed to drag herself to her feet.
She tried to run, but it was like walking through quicksand. She bumped into someone, stumbled and nearly fell. Someone else yelled at her. Hands fumbled at her legs. She moved blindly, like a lost child not knowing where she was going or where she had been.
The last thing she remembered was being wrapped in a strong, somehow safe and comforting, embrace.
CHAPTER EIGHT
For a man who seemed to have everything, Valentine Wexler was extremely out of sorts when he entered his office that Tuesday morning. Though his heart and mind were usually about as mellow as a steel trap, his outward facade was most generally that of a man with a charming, easy going nature. Maintaining this illusion was rarely a difficult task. In fact, it was no problem at all since he quite literally did have everything. Everything, at least, that he wanted and had the capacity to enjoy.
He'd been born to wealth and while it is undoubtedly an unwritten law that money makes money, he had also been born with an acquisitive avarice. So that aside from adding to an already considerable fortune, he took whatever he wanted from life. The money helped, but what simplified the fulfillment of his desires even more was a flaw in his make-up. For he lacked a certain degree of morality, a degree of conscience that robbed him of the capacity to feel any real, deep lasting emotions toward others.
So if he encountered some things he wanted that money couldn't buy outright, he ruthlessly obtained them by other means. Or rather he bought the people to acquire them for him. Which was the reason for his irritation that Tuesday morning. This was one time what had to be done he had to do himself, and he was forced to drop his guard.
"Damn that bastard Quillan," Val muttered aloud to himself.
He'd dismissed his secretary and ordered her to cancel all appointments with a curt snarl that not only surprised her but himself as well. Now he sat at his massive desk slumped in angry thought with a deep frown marring his usually bland brow.
Val had stumbled inadvertently onto the wanton display at the Club the night before. After Jan's refusal to have dinner with him he'd spent a restless evening at home then decided to drive over to the Inn on the chance of finding a poker game in progress. Janet had been right in her assumption on that score. Some few members occasionally did utilize the gym as a card room. They also weren't above using it for private liaisons, but they weren't of the same breed of male animal as Jack Quillan's selected group. Though well aware of Jack's orgiastic activities, Val preferred to do his love-making in greater privacy.
While he actually could care less how Jack got his sexual kicks, he strongly objected to the cameras employed. Not because of the context of the pictures taken, but because they smacked too much of the obvious tools of blackmail. And he had a great dislike for the obvious in such matters.
So Val hadn't been surprised when he walked in on the sadistic party. He'd had a quick drink at the bar, eyeing the mass orgy with some distaste, and had just turned to leave when he collided with a sobbing figure. His shock on discovering the hysterical, incoherent girl in his steadying embrace was Janet White was quickly overcome by a towering rage against Jack Quillan. He fought down the impulse to put the fear of God (or Wexler's power) into him right then and there for the distraught girl was clearly on the verge of collapse.
Not bothering with clothes he'd simply wrapped Jan in a huge bath towel, carried her almost unconscious form to his car and taken her home. With a totally uncharacteristic display of tenderness he'd sketchily cleansed her bruised body and put her to bed like a child.
During this procedure the man's usually impassive countenance was a study of conflicting emotions. Bathing the firm perfect hemispheres of her upturned breasts, the flushed nipples quivered and seemed to reach out to his touch. He felt a surge of desire spread from his fingertips and settle deep in his groin. It became an almost unbearable itch when he moved to the silky protrusion of pubic hair. She uttered an unconscious little moan and her thighs opened permissively. As he wiped the soft hair-lined lips of her sperm-filled cunt he found that he had an instant erection. He could feel his throbbing penis strain at the crotch of his pants, trying to burst through the taut material with an impatient lunge.
His throat went dry and a film of lust glazed his eyes as he stared down at velvety folds of flesh, the cherry-red clitoris palpitating like a tiny heart in the moist pink opening. But a faint grimace of distaste twisted his slack mouth at the dampness of other men's sperm lingering on Jan's cunt and thighs, despite the fact that it seemed to stimulate his own desire. A renewed rage at Quillan's audacity hardened his face and his cock slowly deflated in his pants.
That heated anger had frozen into a far more ominous icy chill as Val mulled over the events of the previous evening and cursed Jack Quillan in his mind. The damned sadistic pimp, he fumed. I told him I was interested in that girl!
In Val's certainty of his own power no further warning inferring 'hands off' should have been necessary. The property on which the Inn was built was owned by him, along with a mortgage on the building, and he could tie Jack up in knots if he so desired. He always got what he wanted and he was fastidious enough that he made damned sure it was the best of everything, which included women. He wanted young Janet White, at least as long as her husband was gone, and after a surface investigation of her emotional and financial insecurity had little or no doubt she could be made to bend to his will. But as in most acquisition, to him the chase was part of the excitement of capture. Like a hunter close on the spoor of his quarry, he'd been in no hurry, knowing the kill was imminent.
Thus the reason behind his discomposure was that Quillan had not only interfered with his plan of pursuit, but in doing so had, in his estimation somewhat damaged or at least wounded his prey. What further disturbed Val was his inability to just drop the whole affair after what had happened. Jan's delightful freshness and the sensuous beauty of her body had no infatuated him nothing could deter his avid desire to possess her completely, body and soul.
The thought in his dispassionate, orderly mind fell smoothly into place and it went into motion with the precision of a well trained juggernaut. But a hint of violence beneath the hooded lids of his eyes betrayed the expression of bland civility once more masking his face as his hand lifted the receiver from the phone.
After making a series of calls during which his voice bit off the words with a concise, direct clarity of intent that brooked no argument, he rang for his secretary. She sighed inwardly with relief to find her boss perched rather indolently on the edge of his desk, his lean body relaxed, his face wearing its usual suave expression of genial self-content.
Val had contacted Jack Quillan, Marge (and through her, Betty) and his attorneys. With one fell swoop he eliminated Janet's job, disposed of Scott's sister and assured himself of the possession of all of Jan's worldly goods.
CHAPTER NINE
It wasn't until almost noon of that same Tuesday morning that Janet could think back on the previous evening and put together some of the strange and violent fragments of it.
She had regained consciousness in darkness after the first deep sleep of drugged shock.
As she put out her arm to the bedside lamp, a stab of pain shot through her wrist and she dropped back to the pillow. She tried to move but couldn't for her whole body seemed weighted down by pain. Pain that started as a numb, pulsating throb in her wrists and knifed to the core of her being. She felt not only a physical ache but a mounting panic, a tight constriction in her breast of the fear of the unknown.
"It was a bad dream... just a dream... a nightmare... " she tried to tell herself, but the dreadful throb between her legs shouted the truth.
Dread beat at her as visions of what had happened flashed unbidden through her mind.
Letting Marge make love to her in the pool. Going after the horrible Jack Quillan like a sex-crazed animal. And the men, strange men, mauling her, possessing her. Then Betty... Scott's sister... Scott!
The name filtered through her tortured brain and brought the bitter tears that had been clogging her throat. Jan started to sob, wild uncontrollable sobs of shame and disgust.
She loathed her own befouled body, loathed the world. She wished she were dead as her sobs rose to a high-pitched wail that pierced the darkness with the howling sounds of a mortally wounded animal. She cried herself back into a restless sleep of oblivion.
When she awoke the second time the late morning sun traced leafy shadows of the Chinese elm outside the window in the airy bedroom. The horrible shock of that first awakening had served to blunt her anguish and memory came more gradually this time.
She lay in the big bed in a dull, lethargic stupor. Her violet eyes clouded with an ache too deep for tears and they stared unseeing at the glitter of sun rays layering the air. Her mind was in a black turmoil as she struggled to recall the time spent at the club. She'd blanked out during much of the evening but lewd bits and pieces of her degrading, shameful lust rose up to haunt her. They passed through her thoughts as though she were reciting some terrible catechism of depravity.
Jan forced herself to push all thought of Scott from her mind for her shame and humiliation seemed to attach a stigma to his love. Happily the patina of time dims memory, but she felt she would never know another peaceful, unashamed moment.
It wasn't until she was soaking her hated, aching body in an almost scalding tub that Janet began to wonder how she'd gotten home. Val Wexler! Oh God, no! Though the latter part of the evening was mostly a gray blur in her mind somehow she knew for a certainty that Val had brought her home and put her to bed. This only added to her remorse, to think the one who'd been so kind and understanding had witnessed her sordid behavior. She felt he would probably never want to see her again, but she'd be eternally grateful for his help.
She didn't know how she herself would have the courage to face any of the ones involved in her drunken lapse of morality. In her innocence it never occurred to Jan that there could be any reason for her loss of physical control other than too much liquor and her love-starved hunger without Scott. Drugs had never occurred to her.
After the healing bath Jan was ravenously hungry and felt guilty because she was able to eat a hearty breakfast despite her misery. Almost against her will she began to feel better physically with the natural resilience of a young healthy body. The only outward sign of the ordeal of the bitterly degrading night were the bruised wrists.
The slam of the front door startled her and she heard Betty's voice raised in laughing conversation coming down the hall towards the kitchen. Beyond realizing the girl must have somehow gotten into the Inn while looking for her, wrapped in her own despair Jan had given little thought to Scott's kid sister.
She had a mad impulse to run and hide. She felt responsible for Betty's welfare and the thought of what she'd led her into was like a knife in Jan's heart. All she could remember was the lewd horror of girl and horse. The knowledge that young Betty had been having the most thrilling experience of her life would have been beyond Jan's conception.
She turned shakily from pouring a cup of coffee when Betty entered the kitchen with a breezy hello. Raising a distraught face Jan saw that Marge was with the pert teenager.
For a moment they looked at Jan closely and speculatively.
Betty, too, dreaded this meeting, but not from any feeling of shame or guilt. She feared Janet's anger. She was afraid of being severely reprimanded or worst of all, being sent back home. This was the last thing Betty wanted to happen just as she felt on the threshold of an exciting new life.
Hating to go back to Janet's she'd persuaded Marge to let her spend the rest of the night with her. To the pleasure-seeking sex-pot, Marge's veneer of sophistication and free and easy style of living, her expensive apartment and lavish wardrobe seemed the epitome of glamour. Or as she enthused to the older woman in the morning, everything was simply fab.
Betty could hardly believe her good luck when Marge offered to start her on a modeling career even to the point of generous financial aid. Precisely what type of modeling was a trifle vague, but at the mention of a word "model" she had instant visions of hoards of handsome young men at her feet.
Rather than having to override Jan's certain objection to the plan she welcomed Marge's suggestion that she merely say she planned on visiting at a friend's house for a while.
But when Betty came home one look at Jan's face banished her fear of punishment.
Where she'd expected anger and disapproval she was surprised to see an expression of abject misery tinged with obvious panic. Suddenly the compromising implications of her sister-in-law's presence at the bizarre gathering at the club dawned on Betty. Jan wouldn't dare interfere with her!
Abruptly the girl changed her tactics. With a new sense of power she stated flatly she was moving in with a girl friend who had scads of money and wanted company. Then as she went around the house gathering up her things she carefully let fall a few thinly disguised innuendoes. Betty made certain Janet would understand that if she took the notion she might just let Scott know how his wife was amusing herself while he was away. For good measure she hinted to Jan that she really should get her problems straightened out - try to find someone willing to help her.
That ought to hold her and keep her out of my hair, Betty thought smugly as she packed her things.
Marge had come along ostensibly to lend moral support, but she had a private mission to accomplish. Aside from a few innocuous pleasantries she'd said little as Betty wandered in and out of the kitchen chattering away. When the girl finally disappeared in the bedroom Marge helped herself to a cup of coffee and settled across the table from Jan's forlorn figure.
"I'm sorry, Marge. Guess I've lost my manners. Would you like something to eat with that?"
"Lord no, my stomach wouldn't stand it! You don't look so hot either, kid. Here, I've got just what we need."
Marge rummaged in her handbag and came up with a small flask. Before Jan could protest she'd added a generous shot of brandy to each of their cups.
Up until now Jan had hardly opened her mouth. For the implications explicit in Betty's remarks sank into her mind to strike a new terror. She'd been quietly struggling with the knowledge that such an irresponsible teenager shouldn't be allowed to go her carefree way alone. But for Scott's sake as well as her own Jan felt powerless to prevent it.
She loved Scott and didn't want to lose him, but it was unthinkable that he should have to bear the hurt of her betrayal. Not now, not when he was facing the horrors of war. It just wouldn't be fair to him. Jan knew then that she'd sacrifice anybody or anything if necessary to keep Scott from being made to suffer on her account.
As Marge sipped the bracing coffee she gazed frankly at the young woman. "You look like you just found out there isn't any Santa Claus. Good heavens, Jan, there's no harm in having a good time. It's not the end of the world!"
With a show of sympathy, and a little more brandy, Marge had no difficulty in breaking through the thin veneer of Jan's reserve. It was a relief for Jan to put her fear into words and the story of her remorse and shame came pouring out.
"I'm so ashamed," Jan finished miserably, hands over her face.
"Honestly, darling, your husband is doing it, so why not you ? Not even you could expect a man to be away from his wife for a whole year and not get in some girl's pants!" Marge made certain of what she meant to impress upon Jan with forthright crudity. "But just because a normal man like Scott has to get his fucking elsewhere doesn't mean he's being untrue to you. It's just a natural biological function for all of us."
"But Scott wouldn't...!" Or would he? Jan's conscience quite humanly grasped at any straw to salve her guilt. Hadn't she let her carnal nature overcome what she knew to be morally wrong and degrading?
"Don't kid yourself. The laws of nature are stronger than the best of us," Marge laughed.
"That doesn't include me, of course! But you'd better start growing up, Jan, and accept the facts of life."
Marge left the subject at that, but the seed of doubt and uncertainty planted in Jan's mind could be seen taking root in her transparent expression. Marge unhesitatingly pressed her advantage and moved on to her primary objective.
"I don't mean to nag and preach when you're so upset. But really, honey, it doesn't make good sense for you to struggle along this way when you could mark time until Scott is out of the army without a care in the world."
"What do you mean, how can I possibly...?"
"I've seen the way Val Wexler looks at you. Without even trying you've got that man wrapped around your little finger. There isn't a gal around who wouldn't love to be in your shoes!"
"Marge, you're mistaken. And even if I wanted to, which I don't, after last night -."
"That's part of what I mean. Do you think for one minute Val would have acted like that - taken care of you like a father - if he wasn't deeply in love with you?" Father, shit, Marge thought derisively but she'd been well coached by Val's phone call earlier.
After a brief dissertation on Val's sterling character, not to forget his unlimited wealth she concluded with, "Money doesn't mean a thing to him, but look what it could do to solve your worries. Besides, Jan, that wife of his had made him miserable for years. Think of the happiness you could bring to the poor lonely man."
Boy, that was laying it on a little thick, she laughed to herself. I better quit while I'm ahead!
Although Janet couldn't conceive of following Marge's advice, she was visibly impressed.
In addition to being blinded by her gratitude to Val, she was too confused to recognize it for a rather blatant sales pitch.
Marge and Betty finally left in a flurry of light cheerful good-bys like casual acquaintances who'd merely dropped by for a friendly chat. Jan's relief at their departure was mixed with a let-down sensation. The generous doses of brandy Marge poured into several cups of coffee had served to blunt the edge of anxiety and Jan wandered through the hushed rooms with a light-headed feeling of being a stranger in her own house. It was several minutes before the impact of Marge's parting phrase struck her.
"I'll see you later at the Inn!"
The Inn! How could she possibly go back there to work! She shuddered at the idea like a criminal being forced to return to the scene of her crime. Not so soon, not tonight - she couldn't face it, she'd call in and say she was sick.
She was thankful when an unfamiliar voice answered the phone. She quickly stated her reason for calling and was about to hang up without waiting for a reply when the strange voice uttered the words of doom.
"Thank you for calling Mrs. White, we were just going to contact you."
The hand holding the receiver stopped its motion in mid-air and Jan slowly drew the phone back to her ear.
"We regret that your services are no longer required and your final check is being forwarded in the mail."
CHAPTER TEN
Long after the line had gone dead Jan had stood motionless by the desk with the telephone receiver emitting its lifeless drone in her ear. Then she did something she'd never done before in her life. With the fixed movements of a somnambulist she walked to the kitchen and opened a cabinet door. Her hands were steady as she took out an almost full bottle of Scotch, reached for the water tumbler by the sink and filled it to the brim with the amber liquid.
It wasn't until she'd almost drained the glass and took it from her lips gasping for breath that she started to tremble. The fiery medicinal taste of the liquor rose in her throat to gag her but she fought down the wave of nausea and refilled the glass with shaking fingers.
Her nerves quieted as the soothing warmth of alcohol flowed through her bloodstream and she carried the drink to the table and slumped down in a mindless trance.
As her brain slowly began to function Jan had the hysterical desire to laugh but then the enormity of her hopeless situation flooded her with despair. Only one thought danced through her mind on an endless treadmill. What was she going to do now?
The melodious peal of the door chime roused her from the seemingly unanswerable question, her first impulse was to ignore the summons but as it echoed insistently through the air she made her way to the front door just as it was shoved open from the outside.
Val Wexler, his arms laden with assorted bags and boxes, brushed past her astonished eyes before Jan realized what was happening.
"Sorry, Janet," he called over his shoulder as he headed for the kitchen, "but all this stuff is damnably heavy!"
Jan watched with bewilderment as he distributed his bounty on a countertop. She recognized the labels on the cartons as coming from a gourmet restaurant and the bags spilled forth assorted wine and liquor. One large glassined box he placed in her hands.
Purple violets inside shimmered on a dewy bed of cotton.
"These poor blossoms are but faded replicas of thine starry eyes," Val pronounced with a merry laugh.
Jan's heart turned over in her breast as she saw the smoldering fires burning beneath the levity of his direct, flattering gaze. A sliver of fear stabbed her brain even as a strange warmth coursed through her body.
"Come now, Janet, you've got that frightened rabbit look about you again and I won't have it," he admonished. "You refuse to let me take you out to dinner so the dinner has come to you! It's as simple as that."
Jan couldn't help but laugh in response to his engaging grin. The quantity of Scotch she'd consumed along with Val's running commentary of light banter was making her feel more relaxed by the minute and she sat down and watched him with dazed astonishment.
Val Wexler, the wealthy dilettante, took charge of Jan and her kitchen like a thoroughly seasoned maitre'd. After mixing a drink that was delightfully cool and refreshing he lighted two thin pale-umber cigarettes and placed one between her lips. Imported tobacco, his own blend, he explained when Jan rolled the slender cylinder in her fingers and examined it curiously.
The tobacco had a rather strong but not unpleasant taste. Marge had smoked the last cigarette she had in the house and Jan inhaled the pungent smoke gratefully into her lungs. Though by no means a heavy smoker, she enjoyed having a cigarette with a cocktail. Through the haze of exhaled sweetish smoke she watched Val rummage through cupboards until he located pans for the impromptu feast.
I really should be helping him, Jan mused dreamily, but she suddenly felt too deliciously comfortable to move. And it was wonderful to have someone fussing over her, taking care of her again. She felt a warm rush of tenderness for Val and wondered how she'd ever thought she didn't really like this thoughtful man.
When he had the dinner transferred into casseroles and in the oven, Val turned his full attention on Janet. She'd finished her drink and just ground out her cigarette and was staring at him with a bemused smile on her sensual lips. As he refilled their glasses, she wondered what it was about the cocktail that relieved her tension, made her feel so much better, almost happy. For a brief moment she thought, I shouldn't be drinking after what alcohol did to me last night. But this feeling was not at all like what she'd felt then. This was just a soothing, delightful glow that helped her forget for just a little while.
Not until Jan found herself laughing uproariously at a rather salacious but funny anecdote that Val was leaning across the table to recount did she realize it was the third cigarette she was smoking that caused her relaxed euphoria. By this time she felt much too uplifted to care. How odd, she thought, just a few hours ago she'd been in an abyss of depression and agony, yet now she was so wonderfully alive.
"Come along, darling," Val's voice was a husky murmur as he drew Jan to her feet.
"You're going to change to your prettiest, filmiest negligee and I'm going to pin those violets on your shoulder and we'll have dinner in style.
Negligee? That didn't seem quite proper to Jan and Val delighted at the blush that spread from the roots of her hair to the visible swell of full breasts rising from the scooped neckline of her bodice.
With an impulsive motion Val bent his head and pressed his lips in the warm, deep cleft between the rosy mounds. Her breasts gave an involuntary upward thrust at Jan's startled intake of breath and he took his hands from her arms to trace the erect pointed nipples straining at the thin material of her gown.
Not caring how she looked that morning Jan hadn't bothered with a bra and Val could feel the unhampered tips of her breasts lengthen and grow hard beneath his fingers. Just as the night before there was an instant flexing in his groin and he felt the beginning swell of erection in his penis.
The caress of his mouth and hands ended almost as quickly as it had begun. For a stunned moment Jan wondered if she'd imagined it as Val continued to lead her to the bedroom. But the warm glow in the cleavage of her breasts and the sharp tingle in her nipples assured her she hadn't. And Val's arm around her waist had the power to send a shiver of excitement up her spine.
Jan felt her legs slowly dissolving into unreliable underpinnings of India rubber as she walked across the room. Opening a drawer she searched-through the filmy layers of silk and lace more by touch then by sight as her eyes were drawn to Val's reflection in a mirror above the chest. The length of his hard-muscled figure was framed in the doorway, propped with a graceful negligence against the jamb. He'd removed his sports coat in the kitchen, and as she watched him now he slipped his tie through the knot and tossed it on a chair, then began working on the buttons of his shirt. It was a simple unhurried gesture, but Jan felt as though she were spying on some forbidden pagan ritual, and her eyes traveled down the mirrored image with an avid fascination.
Val's heavy-lidded gaze had followed the enticing jiggle of her high rounded buttocks as Jan crossed the room. He marveled at gentle slope of her shoulders and supple curve of waist, the long tapered legs beneath those seductive hips. As she bent over the dresser the lush globes of her buttocks and deep separating crevice were clearly outlined by the stretch of thin cotton.
His fingers fumbled at the last buttonhole as he caught the direction of Jan's stare in the mirror. He followed her gaze to the reflected bulge at the crotch of his pants. The knowledge that she was looking at his inflated cock sent the blood pounding through his veins. Deliberately flexing the swollen muscle he felt his prick give a sudden lunge until it was a towerlike point protruding at the taut constriction of material.
Val's original intent had been to prolong the stimulation of pre-coitus excitement with a cat and mouse game. By the amethyst glitter of lust in Janet's eyes he knew that the hashish had her body highly aroused. But she exuded such an aura of unbridled, raw sexuality he feared he was losing control of his passion. What the hell, he groaned inwardly, I've got all the time in the world to play around later.
He reached down and unzipped his fly and his prick swung forth massively, cleaving the air. Jan's quick gasp, almost a groan, hissed from her throat and he forced himself to remain where he was to study her reaction in the glass.
Although her eyes had been glued on the blood-pressured protrusion between Val's legs, the deft motion of his fingers had been so rapid that in the flutter of an eyelid what had been a tweedy mound was now an up-thrust erection, a long thick column of white, pulsating flesh.
As she straightened from the drawer her fingers gripped the swathe of apricot chiffon in her hands so tightly that her nails tore into the soft fabric. My God! It's so big! Her wayward senses darted back to the Club party when she'd held Val's massive penis in her hand and felt it struggling like a wild animal in her grasp. She remembered the feel of the bulbous head, the slippery smoothness of hot moist skin. A spark of remaining sanity in her drug-incited brain fought to cast out the lustful vision, but she found herself helpless in the grip of uncontrolled passion. The heat of desire flash-fired through her mind destroying all conscious thought, leaving nothing but a driving need for the phallic shaft that wavered before Jan's clouded vision like a swaying, blood-tipped snake.
Jan's thighs pressed against the lower dresser to support her weaving body and Val heard the rending tear of silk in her hands as they twisted with a helpless fury. Their eyes met and held in the glass. He sauntered toward her with a rolling gait, almost the balancing stride of a man at sea. The muscular strength of his broad chest rippled from the open folds of his shirt and the great bulk of his prick was like a horizontal lever reaching out from his body, propelling him across the room.
Jan read the naked desire burning in his eyes and somewhere deep within her she knew that she should move, should compel her body to turn and run as though she were fleeing for her very life. But she stood transfixed, rooted to the spot. Then Val's hands were at the nape of her neck kneading at the supple flesh and fumbling at the zipper of her dress, the nebulous thought of escape vanished as an exquisite sensation of trembling excitement washed through her. She felt a sudden rush of moist heat at the juncture of her legs.
The blunt head of Val's prick brushing lightly across her buttocks was like a ball of fire that seared her flesh through the filmy skirt. She felt the zipper of her dress snaking open down her back and Val's hot breath fanning her exposed shoulders. With a fluid motion he peeled dress and panties downward as his lips traced a pattern of moist kisses from the nape of her neck to the warm hollow at the base of her spine.
He felt an involuntary shiver of delight course through the silken column beneath his teasing mouth. Before rising from a half-kneeling position he flicked his tongue lightly in the furrow of her buttocks, and stroked the curve of her hips and thighs with his hands, as he slid her dress down 'til it fell to the floor.
He was breathing heavily as he rose to his feet and fought down a sudden urge to ram his cock violently into the soft warm depths of the puckered anus that had quivered under his tongue. He took a rather grim satisfaction in being able to control the whirl of emotion in his loins. No, not that way. This first time he wanted to feel the soft fleshy folds of Jan's cunt grasping hungrily at his cock. The thought caused his stiff prick to nudge probingly between her tensed thighs and with his hands on her hips he pulled her roughly to him.
The full weight of her soft resilient body pressed hotly into his taut frame. He ran his hands over the velvet texture of her belly then up the ripe fullness of her breasts. The creamy mounds surged into his fingers with a firm, eager thrust. He felt the soft globes of her buttocks grinding into his pelvis as the silky flesh of her inner thighs tightened to hold his distended cock in a heated tunnel of straining muscles.
"Oh, Val, don't tease me, please," Jan whispered.
It seemed to Jan that every nerve-end in her body was an exposed, needling jab of desire.
Her pleading words had sounded like the voice of a stranger in her ears. This couldn't be Jan White, Scott's wife, begging to be taken and she wondered fleetingly why she felt no shame, only this fierce aching, hunger, this strange sensation of exquisite pain. She could feel her breath coming in short labored gasps and she rubbed her swollen breasts wildly back and forth against the tantalizing pressure of Val's kneading hands.
She threw her head back and tried to twist around in his arms to bring his mouth to her open panting lips. The rock-hard pole of his penis between her legs was driving her crazy.
If she couldn't have it soon she felt that she would go out of her mind.
Val was watching the agonized writhings of Jan's lush body in the mirror with an almost detached lascivious enjoyment. Though he had to fight the rising passion incited by the straining warmth of her flesh on his, he took a sadistic pleasure in Jan's agony. For this was one method of retribution for her causing his premature ejaculation at the Inn. There would be others. Yet he knew he couldn't stand the pressure of her legs squeezing his prick much longer.
His legs had been bent slightly at the knees and now he straightened to bring the round hardness of his prick in direct contact with the pulsating lips of Jan's vagina. He could feel a hot wetness enveloping the taut skin of his prick as the velvety folds expanded then contracted on his rigid column. The moist sucking grasp of her cunt sent a violent shudder through his body and he felt a churning weight in his balls.
At the sudden thrust of his penis against the vulnerable ache between her thighs Janet turned into a tiger in Val's arms. With a violent wrench she managed to twist around to face him. Freed from the grasp of thighs his expanded cock sprang back in almost upward erection against his body. Her hands grabbed wildly for the rigid monster of lust-hardened flesh, but Val held her by the shoulders at arm's length with the biting fingers of one hand.
With the other he slapped out with the palm then the back of his hand on either side of her face, not hard blows but stinging slaps that served their purpose.
Jan shook her head like a wet terrier and stood staring at him like a bewildered child. But the gleam of madness left her eyes and she fought to suppress the unbridled lust that had caused her to lose all rationality. For a moment she cowered back against the dresser.
The violence that had overwhelmed her melted into a thrillingly sensual passion. She stretched with the feline grace of a cat on the prowl and felt like she was floating on air as she went to the bed.
The smooth satin coverlet was pleasantly cooling to her feverish flesh as she watched Val remove his clothing with hot, hungry eyes. The demented fear that he wouldn't fulfill her lustful craving was gone. Everything was gone, all thought, all prodding of her conscious mind. Nothing remained but the bright flame of desire, of anticipation of ecstasy. With a low moan she closed her eyes and her hips began to grind impatiently into the mattress.
"Ready, darling?"
Ready? Oh God yes... she was ready. The word rang a distant bell in her mind. She looked up to see Val at the side of the bed, the swollen shaft of his prick protruding over her breasts. She reached out.
"I'm ready," she gasped. "Yes, yes! Fuck me... please... fuck me!" The lewd words tumbled breathlessly from her lips over and over as if by rote.
Even as her hands were on his prick, stroking the thick cudgel and sending a streak of lightning through his loins as her fingertips circled the throbbing glans-tip, Val paused.
Now where in hell did she come up with that obscenity ? Then he ceased to wonder as she raised up and pressed her lips to the fiery blood-filled head of his cock.
She groaned with frustration as Val jerked away from her grasp. The sight and touch of the sensual curve of Jan's lips on the swollen gland had been so lewdly stimulating that he was strongly tempted to shove it into her mouth and force her to suck him off. But once again he decided first things first.
Then she felt him hovering over her and his knees were between hers. She spread her thighs wide, and the moist pink flesh of her vagina opened to receive him like a flower to the morning sun.
The sinewy hardness of his body covered hers and he could feel her writhing with uncontrolled abandon beneath him. He reached down with both hands and drew her unresisting thighs up the sides of his hips until the distended length of his prick rested hotly on the whole of her wet, throbbing vaginal slit. He held his breath as he felt the glossy cunt lips grasp eagerly at the underside of his rigid flesh.
Jan dug the sharp points of her fingernails into his shoulders, and her legs tightened around him as she strained against him with a desperate frenzy. She tried to lever her body toward the head of the bed, to force the head of his penis into her open, waiting cunt, but the silken coverlet held her back. Her entire body was a yawning chasm of desire demanding fulfillment.
Val's superior strength pinned Jan's helplessly struggling body beneath him until he couldn't stand the hot friction of her cunt rubbing along the hard length of his prick a minute more. Her punishment was rapidly becoming his as his blood-pressured cock throbbed with an agony of lusting passion. He shifted his weight and slipped his hands under the thrust of her buttocks.
"Now... hurry... put it in!" he commanded against her mouth.
He felt her hands urgently burrowing down between them and her fingers wrapped tightly around his prick. With a joyful moan she wriggled upward and pressed the sensitive tip of his cock into the pulsating lips of her vagina. The blunt head expanded against the tight elastic opening with a swift surge of increased desire. An unbearable pressure was building in his balls and he was in a hurry to sink it deep inside her soft yielding belly now.
There was an involuntary withdrawal of the tender flesh as the bloated head began a slow, insistent prodding into her cunt. Then with an incoherent cry he rammed his cock into her with one long smooth stroke. He could feel the red-hot tunnel of her vagina engulf his prick with a warmth of exquisite moisture.
As Val plunged his long cock in and out, deeper and deeper into the flaming nucleus of her body, Jan was lost in an endless whirl of ecstasy. In her wild race for fulfillment her thrusting pelvis rose and fell with the plundering rhythm of his cock. Without warning a violent shock of rapturous exultation held her momentarily suspended on the very brink of eternity. The world rocked crazily on it's axis around her as she was transfixed by the deafening spirit of ecstasy tolling it's icy and blazing chimes. Then she was caught in a spiraling vortex of joyous fulfillment she wanted to go on forever.
The high-pitched scream she uttered seemed to be coming from some other woman far away as a torrent of liquid fire gushed from the depths of her womb. With a final taut expansion his swollen cock burst within her, shooting great jets of his sperm into the overflowing well of passion deep in her desperately quivering belly.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The following morning, after an instant's paralyzed confusion, Jan was awake. At once she longed for oblivion but light struck, the present impinged and the past struck a staggering blow. She lay drained and consumed with closed eyes. Light filtering through the heavy curtains was dim, but it probed her lids with a merciless brilliance.
The breath caught in her throat as a sharp stab of panic hit her in the pit of her stomach.
She was afraid to open her eyes, afraid to look at the other side of her bed. Hers - and Scott's. With trembling fingers she reached out and her hand slid over a flat, rumpled surface. She was alone.
Consciousness, all the thousand cruel prods of awareness, refused to retreat. She remembered. She remembered the touch of Val's hands, the taut-muscled hardness of his body, the savagery of his plundering penis. But above all she remembered her own complete surrender to the lure of the flesh. No. It had been more, infinitely more than surrender. It had been a sensual joy, a savage exultancy that she wouldn't have believed possible to feel.
The triumph of the night was gone. She lay there with the bittersweet gall of his sperm on her lips, felt it clogging every pour of her body, suffocating her. For during the seemingly endless orgy of passion he had rejoiced in subjugating her completely. He'd vented his lust in her mouth, between her breasts, in the depths of her anal passage. And - Oh, God - She had wallowed in the tidal wave of his sperm, devoured it hungrily, gloried in it!
She wept for a long, long while, helplessly, hopelessly. But not all of her bitter tears could cleanse her mind of the anguish and guilt that burned like acid. When eventually the storm of weeping subsided she felt empty, yet filled with a forlorn and aching disgust.
In the days and weeks to come Janet's memory of that first night with Val Wexler stretched back in a series of pictured incidents, like film stills, jerkily animating from one scene to another. The dew-dropped purple of Parma violets, which had withered and died by morning... The gourmet dinner, never eaten, dried and shriveled in the oven... The acrid, pungent smoke of hashish, wafted away on the summer breeze... All were but a pastel backdrop for the fiery orange blaze of violent coupling of cock and cunt.
That image was printed indelibly on the retina of her mind. It wouldn't be allowed to dim or fade until Val grew tired of her. And he would. Just as Jan knew for a certainty that the invisible bonds of sexual thralldom that held her body bound to his with an inexorable force would someday unravel and let her escape. This was the only ray of light in the blackness of the evil lure that came from within her.
Her days were an everlasting nightmare of remorse and dread. For both Betty and Marge, her only contact with society, were frequent visitors. And neither one would allow her to forget they had the power to ruin- all chance of any future happiness with Scott.
Her nights were an obscene dream of lusting passion in Val's arms. Lulled by liquor or drugs, all thinking vanished in the pool of sex. A sickly hot longing would burst upon her out of nowhere, consuming all reason and shame. Their love-making was near to a savage conflict, stark with desire without love. Jan was slowly discovering that love and hate were truly related.
When she first went to work at Jack's Cabin Inn she'd been pitifully vulnerable and naive, as well as being pressured by insurmountable tasks.
Now in the loneliness of her days she was gradually made aware of the trap she'd stumbled into so guilelessly. For Marge seemed to take a sadistic pleasure in supplying any missing pieces of the puzzle she couldn't figure out herself. So although Val could still reach her through sex, her feelings towards him were slowly turning to hate.
She felt that her soul had gone into a hiatus of deep mourning. But as time went by she sensed a loosening of the ugly ties that bound her and Val together. A tiny bud of burgeoning hope began to stir deep within. It was as though she were returning from the dead. Looking at the familiar and finding it oddly strange, and aware that it can never appear the same, or be the same. She knew that regret and guilt would be forever with her, but if she were allowed to keep Scott's love she would spend the rest of her life trying to be worthy of it.
Her love for him had never faltered, but grown greater. And she knew, too that if everything that had happened had not happened, she would not be capable now of this depth and intensity of feeling and knowing.
