The Body Dealer
by Charles Richards


CHAPTER ONE 

Caressing fingers fluttering across his belly brought Bill Sherman back from 
the fantasy of his dream into reality. He stirred, stretched, and then 
shifted his head on the pillow. He opened his eyes. He couldn't see a damn 
thing. The unseen hand on his belly moved slowly along his rib cage, across 
his chest, and came to rest on his shoulder. Strong fingers kneaded his 
thick muscles with a gentle, but insistent squeeze. Blinking his eyes 
several times, he cleared away the small grains of sleep which had gathered 
in the corners. He tried to separate his still sleeping mind into the neat 
compartments of wakefulness. Finally managing it after several deep breaths 
and a low, soft grunt, he rolled over on his side and lifted his head, 
cupping his chin in the palm of his hand. "What?" he mumbled. 

"You rolled over and it came out," a feminine voice whispered sadly. The 
hand that had been insistently squeezing his arm now slid downward, coming 
to rest on his hip. The fingers tapped. 

"Would you like a cigarette? Then we'll see if we can get things 
straightened out and in their proper place again," he said, reaching over 
the dim shape next to him and toward the small lamp on the nightstand next 
to the bed. Punching the button on the lamp, a soft glow filled the room. 
Blinking his eyes, Bill adjusted them to the light. He squinted his eyes and 
groped across the figure next to him, looking for the package of cigarettes 
which he knew should be on the night-stand. His fingers finally closed over 
the crumpled pack. Shaking two from the wrinkled container, he picked up the 
lighter lying next to the ashtray. He lit both of them slowly. Handing one 
to the girl lying next to him, he flopped on his back, drawing deeply on his 
own cigarette. The acrid smoke bit his throat and lungs. It tasted lousy. To 
take his mind off the foul taste of the cigarette, Bill turned his head and 
looked at the girl at his side. 

She had big tits. Not hanging melons, just big, firm, rounded globes of 
solid flesh. Otherwise she was thin. Not skinny, but thin. Maybe that's why 
her tits looked bigger. She was lying on her back with her head propped up 
on the doubled pillow. Watching as she breathed, Bill saw the gentle rise 
and fall of her twin white mounds. Her dark nipples were small but pointed. 
The lighter circles around the tips also were small and dotted with the 
tiniest pimples of raised flesh. 

He looked at her face. It was well formed with good bones. Her cheeks were 
set high and she had a firm chin. He noted the small mole on the right side 
of her face, on her cheek just under the eye. It was real. It gave her face 
a coquettish quality. Unfortunately this was offset by one misaligned tooth 
which spoiled her smile, and her nose was just a bit flat. 

Turning, she looked at him, and Bill quickly smiled, flushing with guilt for 
his frank, appraising thoughts. She smiled back and Bill fixed his eyes on 
her dark brown hair which cascaded in soft waves to her shoulders. Simply 
parted on the left side, it was allowed to hang free. 

Leaning over the girl, Bill flicked a long ash into the ashtray by the bed 
and, as an afterthought, picked it up and placed the glass container on the 
girl's bare stomach. 

"Hey! That's cold." 

"I'll warm you up later," he promised. 

Watching as her ribs rose and fell with her breathing, he noted that they 
were barely visible beneath her creamy flawless skin. She did have good 
skin. The stomach was flat with just a hint of firm muscle beneath the 
smooth texture. Her thighs and legs were long and tapering, well toned with 
the muscular construction of a dancer's. 

Bill's eye was caught by the patch of curly brown hair which spread across 
her lower belly, spreading upward from the juncture of her thighs. Barely 
discernible under the curly mass was the raised mound of her pubis. She was 
tight, he recalled with a stirring of his loins. He had had to push hard to 
effect an entry, but once his prick was well seated, her cunt had spewed out 
its lubricating juices in profusion and his cock had slid in and out of its 
slick aperture with ease. 

Taking a final drag on his cigarette, he crushed it in the ashtray, watching 
the girl's muscles contract and harden against the pressure of the glass. He 
might as well get at it, give her another ride, and then try and get some 
sleep. This routine was really becoming a bore, he realized as he flopped on 
his back. When he first started this routine about a year ago, it had been 
what every young man might dream about for a job. He was just out of the 
army having served in Vietnam for most of his two years of compulsory 
service. When he got out, he started to look around for something to do. And 
then he had hit on it. 

It was a television program which first gave him the inspiration. He had 
been bumming around with the hippie crowd on the Sunset Strip, reading all 
the underground papers and just doing his thing. But one dull evening he had 
watched a Western. It was one of those usual crappy offerings of the boob 
tube about the bad bounty hunter tracking down the wanted man. 

Becoming bored, he had flicked off the screen and picked up the latest issue 
of an underground paper which he hadn't read. He had idly glanced at the 
articles and illustrations. Out of curiosity he had started to read the 
classified section. Under the Personals section he noted that many families 
were running ads asking that their sons or daughters contact them, or 
seeking information as to the whereabouts of a son or daughter. Some even 
offered a reward for their return or for information leading to their 
location. Bill had sat bolt upright. That was it. 

He could swing with the hippies and try and find these kids and then collect 
the offered reward. Not knowing how much he could make at it, he figured 
he'd give it a try just for kicks. Surprisingly, it had worked quite well. 
He had been amazed at the number and size of the rewards he was able to get. 

At first he had only contacted those parents who had offered money in their 
ads, but later he'd contacted all the advertisers when the hippie movement 
started to go on the wane. Finding it harder and harder to get clients, Bill 
was caught in a financial squeeze. He was losing his market. Bill realized 
that pretty soon something would have to give, but he tried to put the 
thought out of his mind. He wasn't ready to take a regular job inside the 
Establishment but he was hard pressed to pay his bills. Letting his mind 
wander over the problem, Bill tried to find an answer, but it eluded him. He 
had to have more time. 

"Hey, remember me?" the girl asked, rubbing him across the chest. 

Not realizing that he had been staring at the beamed ceiling of the bedroom 
until she spoke, he grunted, trying to bring his mind back to the present. 
Sue Ann Blake, he thought as the facts and figures clicked over in his mind. 

"Sure, baby. How could I forget a prize package like you?" Sue Ann Blake, he 
thought, you're worth five hundred dollars to me because your dear mother is 
concerned about you and wants you home. 

As a matter-of-fact, Sue Ann's mother was waiting in a swank Wilshire 
Boulevard hotel. She'd have to wait a little longer. Bill was going to 
collect a little fringe benefit first, he thought as he looked at the hairy 
muff and the mound nearly hidden beneath it. 

"Ever watched yourself doing it?" he asked. 

Sue Ann's gray-green eyes widened and her thick brows arched up as she shook 
her head negatively. 

"It's kicky," he said and indicated the large mirror hanging above the low 
nine-drawer chest against the wall opposite the foot of the bed. 

Her eyes followed the nod of his head and a small smile came to her lips 
when she saw their images reflected in the large rectangular glass above the 
chest. 

"Want to try it?" he asked as he ran his hand over her stomach. 

Nodding her head, she kept staring at their mirrored images. 

Circling her waist, he pulled her to him, bending his head and pressing his 
open lips on hers. As his tongue probed past her parted lips, he looked at 
the girl through narrowed eyes. 

Her eyes were open and looking directly at the mirror. Suppressing his 
laughter, he thrust his tongue deep into her mouth. If she were looking, 
he'd really give her something to see. It was the least he could do under 
the circumstances. 

Nibbling at her lips with his teeth, he felt the returning pressure of her 
hot mouth as their wet tongues met and dueled. His arm circled under her 
shoulders, gripping her arm. The raised position of her head would give her 
a better view of the mirror. Moving his other hand across her body, he 
kneaded the warming flesh, pressuring the points of pleasure. He cupped one 
of her large, firm breasts in his palm, moving it in a small circle and 
pulling at the globe until she responded by arching her back, pushing more 
of the willing flesh into his hand. Playfully tweaking the nipple, he caused 
it to rise, hard and rigid. Pulling his lips away from hers, Bill nuzzled 
her neck, letting his tongue trace wet streaks of glimmering saliva across 
her sensitive skin as his hand continued its ministrations at her breast. 
Playfully biting her earlobe, he heard a soft moan of pleasure escape her 
lips. She had hot ears, he observed as he poked his wet tongue into her ear 
to determine what her reaction would be. It was animal. She gasped. 

Circling his back with her hands, she started a rhythmic stroking of his 
flanks. One of her hands, more adventurous than the other, insinuated itself 
between their tightly pressed bodies and sought his stiffening member. 
Gingerly touching fingers brushed along the lengthening flesh, cupped the 
hanging testicles and lifted them, as if measuring their contents. She 
delicately pulled at the sac then hefted the walnut-sized balls in her palm. 
Her seeking hand left a trail of small sparks as it moved to the base of his 
now hard and swollen member. Grasping the base, her fingers curled around 
its thickness. Sue Ann moved her hand up and down in the time-honored 
imitation of intercourse. 

Bill enjoyed her actions and reduced his activity to a slow and steady 
nibbling of an exposed earlobe while he let her bring him to full and 
rampant readiness. She was good, but he'd had better. All Sue Ann really 
needed was a little more experience in bed. She was a very fast learner. 
Well, she was young and had her whole life ahead of her. She'd make out just 
fine, he decided. 

Taking the initiative once more Bill dropped his head to her waiting breast 
and sucked a turgid nipple into his mouth. While he flicked his tongue 
across the tip, he sneaked a look at the mirror and saw the girl staring at 
their combined reflections as his head pulled at the sensitive dark skin at 
the center of her breast. She pushed it against his mouth and he savored its 
taste with his rolling tongue and nipping teeth. 

"Mmmmm, bite 'em. Bite 'em hard," she moaned, heaving her body upward. 

By way of silent but effective reply, Bill bit down on one of the turgid 
brown berries and rolled it hard between his teeth. 

"Oh! That's good. So good." 

He stole another secret look at the mirror. She had her head thrown back and 
her eyes were closed. Probably having a small orgasm, he thought, and 
continued with his efforts. 

Reluctantly letting the teat and breast slip from his avaricious lips, Bill 
moved them in small, wet trails across her rib cage and belly. He dipped his 
tongue in salute to the perfection of her dimpled navel. He poked it with 
the pointed tip of his tongue. Writhing on the bed, she moaned out her 
pleasure with abandon. His now open mouth engulfed first one then the other 
of her two protruding hip bones. Working his jaw back and forth laterally, 
he felt her jump with the sensations he was sending coursing through her 
pelvic area. His mouth moved on to greater conquests. 

While his mouth and tongue were working their joint motions, his hands had 
lain slack on her thighs. Now they joined in the grand finale. 

Stroking the outsides of her thighs to the knees, he moved his hand between 
her legs, gently parting them. Brushing the tender surface of her inner 
thigh with feather-like strokes, he moved his hand to her crotch. His 
roaming fingers could feel the heat being generated by her hungry loins. 
Bill's nostrils were now assailed by the musky smell of her readiness. His 
fingers brushed against the lips of her cunt. They were open and he could 
feel their dripping wetness. 

Shifting his whole body suddenly, Bill lay between her outthrust thighs with 
his head on her belly. He couldn't see the mirror now, but this position 
would give her the best possible view of what he was about to do. Planting a 
wet kiss on her lower belly, he gripped her buttocks with his palms. Bill 
felt her fingers entwining themselves in his long red hair, pulling his head 
up. 

"What are you going to do?" she asked in a puzzled voice. 

"Kiss you," he replied matter-of-factly. 

"But I've never I mean, no one has ever-" she stammered, trying to find the 
right words. 

He didn't let her finish. "Just watch, you'll like it." 

Without waiting for her reply, he lowered his head to her tight cunt and 
pushed his nose between the wet, waiting lips. He held his tongue back, not 
letting it explore her fully. This was her first time, he thought, I'd 
better make it good for her and not spoil her for someone else. Extending 
his thumbs, Bill placed them on either side of her damp lips. He pulled the 
lips apart as his tongue licked gently along the outer surfaces. Finding the 
small hard bud he was so avidly seeking, he flicked it with the firm tip of 
his tongue. He heard her sudden intake of breath and knew he had the right 
spot. Working at the pearl-shaped button, he made it pulse and rise so it 
stood like a sentinel at the entrance to her pleasure cave. 

Her pelvis was making small, involuntary movements, pushing her cunt closer 
against his mouth. Bill retracted his wet probe and nibbled at the standing 
trigger with his lips, pulling it with a slow gentle pressure. A gasp broke 
from her lips and her pushing hips became more animated. Forsaking lips, 
Bill nipped at her clit with his teeth, drawing it out still further. Sue 
Ann moaned and arched herself hard against his mouth. He shifted and rammed 
into her gaping pussy with his tongue. A grunting moan greeted his increased 
efforts, and he started thrusting into her with greater strength and speed. 
Sue Ann suddenly clapped her firm thighs around his head and, grasping his 
hair in her clutching fingers, pulled his face into her. Her body was 
twisting and thrusting on the bed, and had she not been holding Bill so 
tightly he would have lost his juicy connection. 

"Oh God, oh God, oh God," she moaned, jamming herself at him. 

She was coming, Bill thought. Her tight opening was pulling and sucking at 
his tongue as it reamed into her. Her box was like a miniature mouth, 
grasping and pulling with urgent desire. Jabbing into her as deeply as he 
could, he felt her body suddenly arch, her hips rising so high that she was 
supporting her whole weight on her shoulders. Her entire body strained as 
she sought more and more of him and he moved to give her what she sought. 
Suddenly she collapsed on the bed with a flop, breathing deeply through her 
mouth. 

Slowly moving away from her, Bill planted a shaky kiss on her sweating 
belly. His neck was stiff and sore from the effort he had just made, but it 
had been worth it. Moving up next to Sue Ann, he stretched full length on 
the bed. 

"Did you like it?" he asked as he placed his arm around her shoulders and 
pulled her face against his chest. 

"Nice," was her only comment as she snuggled closer to him. 

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," he said. 

Sue Ann pulled her head back, turned her face to him, and asked frankly, 
"What do you get out of it?" 

"If you enjoyed it, then that's enough," he said noncommittally. 

"Do women do that to men too?" she asked with a naivete which caused him to 
smile inwardly. 

"Yes." 

"How?" 

"Just like eating a candy cane." 

"Would you like me to do it to you now?" she asked. 

"If you'd like." 

"Will you be able to do anything else after I've done it?" 

"If I stop you in time," he said as he settled himself more comfortably on 
the bed. 

Not moving for several moments, Sue Ann seemed to be considering something 
very carefully. Finally she moved her head from his chest and started 
leaving a trail of wet kisses across his ribs and belly. Her thumb and 
finger circled his ramrod-stiff prick and pulled at it in a slow imitation 
of masturbation. Bill watched her as she slid down in the bed to get in a 
more convenient position. 

Resting on one elbow, she still held his prick upright with the other hand. 
Sue Ann was looking intently at the bulging vermilion head, cocking her head 
to one side as her gaze dropped down the length of the pink-white shaft. 
Hesitantly moving her head forward, she licked her lips like someone just 
finishing a piece of fried chicken. Her head lowered. Her tongue moved out 
and tentatively flicked at the small slit at the end of the purple head. 
Bill's prick throbbed and jerked at the touch. Sue Ann's head snapped up and 
she looked at him, a frown clouding her face. He smiled back reassuringly. 
Again her head lowered and her tongue lapped at the head. His rampant member 
jerked again, but she pursued it with her lips. They made a small O, 
capturing the very tip. Her tongue prodded again and Bill's prick throbbed 
once more and escaped her lips. Opening her mouth, she grabbed at the wildly 
jerking cock with her lips. 

Bill could almost hear the chomp as she made good her capture a second time. 
He breathed a silent sigh of relief when he realized that she hadn't bitten 
him. She held the head lightly in her mouth and then moved slowly down the 
shaft. He felt the tip hit the back of her throat and watched as she sucked 
her cheeks inward and started moving her head upward. Pulling back until 
just the head was between her lips, Sue Ann teased it with her tongue. 

Bill felt it jerk and pulse in the hot confines of her wet mouth. Sue Ann 
released Pier thumb-and-forefinger grip on the base of the staff and let her 
hand drop, cupping his balls. She lifted them, feeling the weight and 
roundness. Her head started moving down the shaft and Bill rose to meet it. 
His hips started a movement of their own and she adjusted to it, moving her 
head up and down in time to his pelvic thrustings. Bill felt the first 
contractions deep in his testicles. He watched as the spit-slicked rod 
pis-toned out of her mouth. The hot sperm was moving in the deeper cavities 
of his body, seeking the light which would give the release to the 
fast-building tensions in his gut. He stopped working his hips and knotted 
his fingers in the hair of her bobbing head. He pulled her gently upward, 
off the wildly swinging cock, wet with her spit. Watching as the prick 
jerked and slapped against his belly, she slid upward in the bed and cuddled 
close to his chest. 

"Was it good for you?" she asked him, wrapping her arm around his waist. 

"Very good," he said as he rolled over on his side facing her. Reaching 
down, Bill pulled her leg over his waist, then raised his hips and arranged 
her other leg under his waist. He pushed at her opening with his hips. Sue 
Ann, who had passively let herself be pushed and pulled about as he arranged 
her, now inserted her hand between their pressed bellies and grasped his 
shaft. Guiding it to the proper orifice, she wiggled herself into a more 
comfortable position. Feeling the head of his prick against the hot hole, 
Bill pushed gently and felt the lips part as he sank into her body with a 
sigh of contentment. 

Wrapping his arms around Sue Ann, Bill started a slow pistoning action with 
his hips, sending his ramrod steadily into her body until their pubic hairs 
ground together. Sue Ann was starting to move her hips in rhythm with his, 
thus reducing the length of his stroke. Their actions became more violent, 
desperately trying to find the release for the wild, gut-knotting tensions 
building within their bodies. Bill rammed at her hard, and Sue Ann returned 
the pressure, her cunt lips sucking at his cock as it pulled out. He felt 
himself building quickly to his final completion. The hot lava of his sperm 
was running through his tubes, seeking the warmth of her womb. Jamming at 
her small opening, moans of pleasure broke from his lips as he felt the 
first flutter of her vaginal muscles around his raging prick. His spunk 
raced down the last long passageway and, with a shuddering cry, Bill slammed 
into her hole as he came, spewing forth and filling her. 

"Oh fuck, fuck, fuck," she cried out as she grasped him tightly, convulsive 
shudders racking her body in pounding waves of released passion. 

Bill groaned as the second and third spurts from his pulsating prick sent 
his milk offering into her fast-filling tunnel and he felt the pulling tug 
of her muscles along the entire length of her tube. She pulled at his prick, 
drawing all there was in him out, and then decreased in intensity, slowly 
and steadily. 

Lying with his head buried against her white neck, Bill was breathing 
deeply. He could feel his heart racing in his chest. Small droplets of sweat 
dripped from between their pressed together bellies. Bill was conscious of 
the warm glow which settled over him with a lulling heat. They rested 
quietly for several long moments. 

"That was nice," she said sleepily. 

"Uh-huh," was all he could manage as he listened to her even breathing. 

As he stretched his arm toward the light switch on the lamp, Bill thought 
again about what he had to do later that morning. Snapping the light off, he 
snuggled closer to the now sleeping Sue Ann. He hadn't been able to think 
about what he had to do when she was able to see him. This business was 
getting downright repulsive. He had arranged to deliver Sue Ann to the 
corner of Sunset Boulevard and Vine Street by noon. After letting her out of 
the car, he would then drive away. 

What Sue Ann didn't know was that Bill had arranged to have her mother 
waiting in the music store on the corner. Their meeting would be a chance 
affair, thus leaving Bill free and clear of any suspicion. He was careful 
about that because if the word got out he would be finished, or nearly so 
anyway. He had already collected his money, so that was taken care of. Bill 
always collected in advance. He usually managed to have the worried parents 
get a look at the girl he had found so that they were sure. They were more 
willing to part with their money then, Bill had learned when he first 
started his rather unusual occupation. 

Trying to get some sleep, he noticed through the window that there was a 
grayness creeping into the sky. If it wasn't for the money, he'd get the 
hell out of this racket, but what could he do that would give him the same 
income? Crap! 

He closed his eyes against the rising light coming through the window. He 
felt like a heel. He genuinely liked Sue Ann. She was fun and pure in a 
special sort of way. He hoped her mother and she could patch up their 
differences. He thought they had a good chance. Her mother was understanding 
and concerned. He had tried to explain it to her and she had listened 
carefully. Well, at least she will make an effort, he thought as his mind 
closed and he dropped into a deep and exhausted sleep. 

 CHAPTER TWO 

A bulky-knit sweater landed at Bill's feet as he pushed his way into the 
dimly lit room. The pulsing jingle of tambourines, pierced by the beat of a 
small Indian drum and the lilting, but plaintive melody of a recorder, 
assailed his ears as soon as he had closed the rickety door. Leaning down, 
Bill picked up the heavy sweater, then dropped to his haunches next to the 
doorway. 

He waited while his eyes accustomed themselves to the dim blue light bathing 
the crowded room. He could make out the undulating shape in the center of 
the room and decided that was where the sweater had come from. Deciding to 
play it by ear, he settled back, placing himself as comfortably as possible 
against the thin wall of the apartment. His nose twitched and then wrinkled 
as his scent buds caught and held the pungent burnt almond smell of weed. As 
his eyes adapted to the faint light, the undulating form in the center of 
the room took shape and became real. 

I wonder if she's a real blonde, Bill thought to himself as he watched her 
supple body start to bend and sway in time to the weird music. She was bare 
to the waist except for several strands of beads which swung loosely in 
front of the swelling mounds of her breasts. Bill's eyes riveted on her 
breasts. They were large and lush, held up firmly by youthful muscles. The 
beads brushed across the two pink nipples as the girl moved slowly back and 
forth, like an upright pendulum. Bill noticed the nipples begin to swell and 
pout as the beads brushed hard against them again and again as the girl 
swayed from side to side. Her hands were held at her sides, flat against the 
curve of her hips as she moved in time to the music. 

The beat increased, and the blonde began moving her feet to the rhythm. She 
bent at the waist, throwing her large breasts forward, then straightened, 
arching her back and shaking her shoulders from side to side with the beat 
of the drum. The breasts shook and the knotting muscles of her smooth, flat 
belly rippled. As she arched back, she brought her hands slowly upward, 
sliding them to the front of her hips, then up over the well-defined mound 
at her crotch, tracing a delicate pattern across her stomach and coming to 
rest under the swaying breasts. She bent forward slightly and then back 
again. Straightening again, she cupped a tit in each hand, kneading and 
lifting the heavy, full flesh. The blonde teased each nipple with her thumb 
and forefinger, rolling the delicate tips, bringing a glow to the already 
pink and straining points. 

Some of the people lying around the room started to clap in time to the 
music, encouraging the girl to continue her erotic dance. Soon most of them 
who were crowded into the dingy room, including Bill, began clapping their 
hands as the tempo of the music built. 

"Go, baby, go. Do your thing. It's all for love," some of the more vocal 
members of the group called as they clapped sharply. 

Apparently pleased by the attention and encouragement, the dancing girl 
started circling the group, her hands waving at her sides. Her hips were 
sensuously moving in one direction while her now heaving breasts and 
shoulders were thrown in another. She took long steps as she circled the 
room with a series of slow and graceful pirouettes. She moved to the center 
of the circle as the tempo of the music again increased. She stood with her 
legs wide apart, the cloth of her bell-bottoms stretched tight over her 
rounded thighs as she gyrated her hips forward and backward in an imitation 
of the act of love. Bill Sherman felt a familiar stirring in his loins as 
she increased the violence of her movements. Wadding the sweater, he stuffed 
it into his lap. It would be his introduction. The lush blonde now had her 
hands stretched over her head, lifting her breasts even further. Her hips 
were making fast circles as she moved them back and forth in time to the 
music. Small beads of sweat were running down between the gorgeous globes, 
making her body shine and reflect in the dim blue light. Bill watched as the 
beads gathered and then tumbled down her muscled stomach, dipped into the 
indentation of her navel and then trickled to the belted waist of her 
bell-bottoms. 

The music was pounding now, thumping a violent rhythm of raw passion. The 
girl was jerking her hips forward and back with exaggerated speed. She 
dropped her arms to her sides once more, and her shoulders and elbows also 
started to move back and forth in time with her wildly jutting pelvis. The 
music and movement built to a near ear-splitting crescendo and then came to 
a crashing stop as the girl lifted on the balls of her feet and spun to the 
floor, ending with her legs crossed, head and shoulders bent forward between 
her thighs. 

During the brief moment of near-deafening silence which followed the ending 
of the wild dance, Bill looked quickly about the room, searching faces. They 
were mostly old regulars whom he knew well. 

Forgetting the people for a moment, Bill looked at the room itself. There 
were splotches on the peeling plaster walls, a threadbare rug which was 
spotted with the droppings of various previous tenants and ragtag collection 
of furniture which looked like rejects from the Salvation Army. It was a 
typical hippie pad. 

Hippies, he thought, bless their little lovin' hearts. They kept him in 
bread. They provided him with a wide and varied sex life. He was one of 
them, but then again, he wasn't. Bill believed as they did in the hypocrisy 
of the straight society, but he couldn't stand the way they lived. The 
squalor and the hand-to-mouth existence revolted him. 

Bill looked like a hippie when it suited his purpose. His reddish hair was 
long, but not too long. It was just long enough so that he could cross that 
tenuous line between the hippie society and the Establishment. When he was 
making the scene, Bill wore the uniform of the hippie culture. Garish velvet 
shirts, bright Indian beads, hip-hugging pants which flared at the bottom, 
flat-nosed boots and wide leather belt. Of course, when he was dealing with 
the parents, he dressed very conservatively in a suit, tie, freshly 
laundered white shirt and plain shoes. 

He had carefully cultivated a select group of hippies whom he helped out now 
and then. He provided bail money when they were busted by the narks. 
Sometimes he paid the rent or supplied wine and beer for their parties and. 
it wasn't unknown for him to invest in, a little hash now and then for a 
really cooperative friend. He had always told them that they were not really 
being traitors to their society's code of ethics, but merely buying a little 
insurance against a bad bust by the narks, or some other disaster which 
money could repair. It worked out well all around, but Bill tried to keep 
such contacts to a minimum. 

Getting to his feet, Bill made his way to the blonde girl still slumped in 
the center of the floor. Her back and sides were heaving with the effort of 
her lungs to gather enough air to supply her depleted system with oxygen. 
Sweat still poured from her body and dripped from her flanks to the floor. 
Squatting down next to her, he waited until the breathing became less 
labored. 

"You might need this," he said holding out the bulky sweater. 

She lifted her head with effort. Brushing her long tresses away from her 
face, she looked at him with deeply probing blue-gray eyes. 

"Thank s," she said simply, taking the sweater from his hands and getting to 
her feet. She held it demurely before her nakedness, still keeping Bill's 
eyes in the locked grip of her frank stare. 

"My name's Bill Sherman. You new around here?" 

Her eyebrow arched up, then she turned on her heel and walked away toward a 
bedroom in the rear of the small pad. A kook, Bill thought, and moved toward 
another part of the living room. 

As he made his way between the various clusters of people, Bill nodded to 
some, caught snatches of conversation, and checked carefully for any face 
which might resemble one of the pictures he carried in his pocket. He was 
about to give up and hit another crash pad. This was his usual method of 
operation. He would go from pad to pad just looking at faces and taking in 
the action. 

He was moving toward the door when he spotted a pair of well-formed legs 
ticking out from behind a low couch which had seen better days. Deciding to 
see what was attached to the legs, Bill moved around the end of the couch 
and stared down at the girl sitting with her back against the badly peeling 
white plaster wall. 

She was young and apparently couldn't handle her grass too well. Holding an 
empty water glass in her hand, she stared blankly at the floor in front of 
her sandal-clad feet. Her short minidress was hiked up around her hips. She 
wasn't wearing much makeup, just around the eyes, which had been lined with 
black pencil 'to accent their shape. Her hair was light brown and worn 
straight, parted in the center in the standard hippie fashion. Looking 
closely, Bill knew he was going to earn a fee tonight. 

Kneeling down next to the girl, he gently shook her by the shoulder. "You 
okay?" 

Turning her head in his direction with an obvious effort, she looked at him 
with bloodshot staring eyes. Bill smiled reassuringly. She didn't say a 
word, but merely shook her head negatively with a small pout on her pale 
lips. "Have you got any place to crash tonight?" he asked. 

Again the girl answered in the negative, taking a deep breath and letting it 
out with a whoosh. As she inhaled, Bill's glance darted to her bosom and 
watched it swell beneath the thin fabric of the dress. 

"What's your name?" 

Jerking his eyes up from the curving mounds, Bill looked at the girl's face. 
Her eyes were slowly focusing. "Bill. What's yours?" 

"Manda," she said with a long sigh of expelled breath. 

"Looks like you had a little too much grass," he said casually as he sat 
down beside her, placing his back against the wall. 

"I'm hep, man," she said. 

"That can be a real bummer," he said. "Especially in the morning." 

"I dig, baby," she replied taking another deep breath. 

"like to make it out of here and see if you can get your head straight?" he 
asked her hoping she would agree without to much fuss. 

"Why not," she said. "This is a drag." 

Clambering to his feet, Bill turned to help Manda get up from the floor. As 
he pulled her to her feet, she wavered, tried to take a step, but stumbled 
and fell heavily against him. Her breasts pushed and flattened against his 
chest and he felt their firmness. As his arms moved around her to steady 
her, he felt no restriction beneath the thin dress. She wasn't wearing a 
bra, he noted with pleasure. She had grabbed his shoulder when she fell 
forward and now moved her hands, running her fingers into his long, red 
hair. Pulling his head down, she tilted her face up and opened her lips. 

Bill held her tightly as he kissed her, feeling her tongue work across his 
lips then slip gently into his mouth. He met the invasion with his own 
tongue and they stood together for a long moment, swapping spit. Her little 
probe was everywhere at once. On the roof of his mouth, his lips, across his 
teeth. It was seeking, finding, feeling with its own urgency. She finally 
pulled her head back and looked at him with a small smile playing at her wet 
lips. 

"You're groovy," she commented, slurring the words. 

"So are you," he said. "Have you got a coat of something?" 

She merely shook her head and stepped back. 

Bill quickly moved to her side in order to help steady her as they stepped 
over the groups of people lounging in various states of undress. As he 
turned toward the door, his gaze swept the room once more, just in case. He 
spotted the dancing blonde standing by the front door idly smoking a joint 
and looking at him intently. Holding tightly to Manda, Bill made his way to 
the door managing to stumble only once across a couple who were trying to 
imitate the act of love through their clothes. Bill breathed a silent sigh 
of relief as he and Manda got to the door without major mishap. 

"Thanks for holding my sweater," the blonde said coolly, blowing a stream of 
smoke in his direction as he pulled open the door. 

"Anytime," he said as he started to propel Manda through the opening and 
onto the porch. 

"Got yourself a winner," she said with a warm smile. 

"I hope so," Bill replied, regretting that it was strictly business. He 
really wanted to drop Manda and make a real pitch for the blonde. She was a 
rare find, one worth pursuing. 

"Have fun," she said as she closed the door. 

Bill turned his full attention to Manda who had been leaning up against him 
during the entire conversation with the blonde. Circling her waist with his 
arm, Bill started down the long walkway through the rundown court and to the 
street. Once on the sidewalk, Bill steered Manda toward his white Volkswagen 
parked at the curb. He could have afforded a more expensive car, but then he 
had his role to play and anything more pretentious would have been suspect. 
Opening the door, he eased Manda into the passenger's seat. She plopped into 
the low seat, exposing the sheer, pale green panties she wore under the 
simple white minidress. Bill's eyes appraised the white expanse of firm 
thigh and he didn't feel too bad about leaving the blonde. There was always 
another night. He walked quickly around the car to the driver's side, opened 
the door, and slid into the seat. Starting the car, he looked at Manda. She 
had slid down in the seat, her dress hiking up around her hips. Her head was 
thrown back against the headrest, her lips were parted, and she breathed 
evenly. Hell, she was asleep already, Bill thought with a feeling of 
disappointment and disgust. She was worth three hundred dollars to him. Not 
dead or alive either, but alive and in reasonably good condition. He wanted 
her more lively than she was at this particular moment; a lot more lively. 
He again thought of the blonde and her wild, abandoned dance. She was new 
and different in some way. He'd have to meet her again and the sooner the 
better. 

Putting the Volkswagen in gear, Bill Sherman pulled away from the curb and 
headed the little car toward the Hollywood hills. 

 CHAPTER THREE 

Knotting his tie with a quick sure tug, Bill looked at his reflection in the 
bathroom mirror. He was putting on his parent uniform, having an appointment 
with a client in a few minutes. 

Remembering the night before with Manda, Bill scowled and shrugged his 
strong shoulders into his conservatively cut coat. He brushed lint from the 
lapel and stepped in front of the full-length mirror behind the bathroom 
door. Manda had been a disaster area. He had carried her into the house and 
started to put her on the couch when he heard the first ominous rumbles from 
her stomach. He had barely managed to get her to the bathroom in time for 
her to convulse and pour out the putrid-smelling contents of her stomach 
into the toilet bowl as he steadied her. She had mumbled something about 
being sorry and feeling better as he guided her back to the couch, laid her 
out, and threw a blanket over her inert body. The experience had left him 
hollow and disgusted. 

His prediction of the night before had come true when Manda arose in the 
morning. She looked and had said she felt god-awful. Fixing her breakfast 
while she took a needed shower, Bill had hardly contained his impatience to 
get rid of her. He had a feeling of utter and genuine relief when he dropped 
her at the agreed upon corner and pulled his small car away from the curb. 
Her parents were waiting and they deserved her. He'd earned his money. 

Glancing at his watch, Bill walked into the plush living room and looked 
around. His spacious house in the Hollywood hills was the one real luxury he 
permitted himself. His whole personality was wrapped up in this house. It 
wasn't really a big house, but it was comfortably commodious. Perching 
precariously on the side of a steep canyon, the full-length windows looked 
out on a panoramic view of the city below. The living room opened onto a 
terrace which stretched across the entire front of the house. There was only 
a single bedroom, but that was all he needed. His kitchen was compact and 
efficient. 

Decorating the house carefully and tastefully, Bill had unknowingly made the 
home an imprint of himself, a monument to his dichotomy. Psychedelic 
paintings in black light, giant posters, and symbols colored the walls. 
Works of twisted welded sculpture stood on tables and cabinets. Grotesquely 
plump African fertility statues in black wood looked across the expanse of 
thick carpet and plushly rich, leather sofas and chairs which accented the 
fireplace set in a rough rock wall in one corner. Bill sat down on one of 
the chairs facing the fireplace, letting his hand-tooled leather shoes rest 
comfortably on the long-haired steer hide laid appropriately in front of the 
fireplace. Relaxing as the softness of the chair enveloped him, Bill looked 
up at the beams of the ceiling holding up the roof with their massive 
rough-hewn strength. The whole atmosphere was permeated with an air of 
masculinity. He liked it. 

Putting his restful solitude aside, Bill rose to answer the ringing 
doorbell. Mrs. Martin was right on time, he observed, looking at his watch. 
She must be worried. 

She stood on the rock and concrete porch, a small piece of white paper 
fluttering in her hand. She was younger than he had thought, and 
better-looking. As a matter-of-fact, she was absolutely beautiful. 

"Mr. Sherman?" she asked hesitantly, a cloud of doubt crossing her eyes. 

"That's right, Mrs. Martin," Bill said, stepping back from the open doorway 
to allow her room to get past. 

Brushing by her to lead the way into the living room, Bill caught the rising 
scent of her perfume. It was heavy with promise but light in its fragrance. 
Ushering her into the living room, Bill let his eyes rove over her figure. 
She took good care of herself, he could tell that right away. Her jet black 
hair, partly covered by a trim hat, was swept up off the back of her neck. 
The simply cut, but modernly chic, two-piece tailored suit she wore had the 
look of rich luxury and fine workmanship. She was class, he concluded after 
his quick perusal. 

Looking about, as if trying to get a sense of direction, the woman was 
completely unaware of Bill's evaluating gaze. 

"Very interesting place you have, Mr. Sherman. It's not at all what I 
expected. But then neither are you," she said, turning to face him. 

"Thank you very much," said Bill gesturing toward the couch. "Won't you sit 
down?" 

She placed herself carefully on the edge of the couch, smoothing her skirt 
under her as she did so. 

"It's a little early, but would you like a drink?" he asked. 

"Maybe a little later," she replied. "I'd really like to get started if you 
don't mind." 

Flat and appraising, her eyes drilled into him as he sank into an 
overstuffed chair opposite her. 

"My niece, Terri, left home about two weeks ago and my husband and I haven't 
been able to locate her through the regular channels. You said you might be 
able to help when you called in response to my ad. Is that true?" 

"Possibly," Bill said evenly, "It depends largely on whether or not Terri is 
in the Los Angeles area. There has been a movement to Big Sur, Colorado, and 
New Mexico lately. Have you tried those areas?" 

Pulling off her white gloves, she waited before answering. "Yes, but we got 
nowhere. Both my husband and I know that she is in the Los Angeles area 
somewhere because she wrote a letter to a girl friend. Unfortunately, the 
police have not been very encouraging, it seems that they are swamped with 
runaways," she said with irritation sharpening her voice. 

"That's true," he said, watching her as she took a filter-tipped cigarette 
out of her small purse and nervously tapped the end on the heavy, hatch 
cover coffee table. "And, even if they were not swamped, it's extremely 
doubtful whether or not they could find her anyway. If they did it would be 
by the purest chance." 

"Why?" she asked, flicking a gold lighter into a steady flame and touching 
it to the end of her cigarette. 

"Because the police represent authority, and authority is resisted by 
hippies because the police are the personification of all that they 
repudiate within the established society," Bill said flatly. 

Taking a long puff of her cigarette, Mrs. Martin let the smoke curl over her 
lips. "Why would Terri want to become a hippie or even associate with those 
kind of people? I've worked hard to bring her up right, with all the things 
that money could buy and then some, just so she would have the best. Now 
she's run off for no reason I can understand and apparently taken up with 
these hippies, with their sex and dope and all of that. I just plain don't 
understand her at all," she said in angry frustration. 

Getting to his feet, Bill started pacing up and down the room, stopping only 
long enough to light his own cigarette and draw deeply. He looked at Mrs. 
Martin with a frank, open stare, which was returned with a flicker of 
challenge. "I'll need Terri's picture the more recent the better." 

"Of course, Mr. Sherman, I brought one along," she said, digging into her 
handbag and pulling out a small manila envelope. She handed it to Bill 
without comment. 

After sliding the color picture from the envelope, Bill looked at it 
closely. It was a short-haired version of the dancing blonde he had met the 
night before. "Just how badly do you want to find Terri?" he queried the 
woman sitting firmly on the couch. 

"Implying what, Mr. Sherman?" she asked sharply. 

"Implying nothing, Mrs. Martin, but I have other commitments and if you 
expect me to give your matter special consideration then we had best come to 
an understanding right out front as to what and how much that extra 
consideration will be." 

"You don't beat around the bush, do you, Mr. Sherman? I like that it shows 
forcefulness and self-confidence. To be frank, Mr. Sherman, I want Terri 
back home within ten days. If you can do that, I'm prepared to make it worth 
your while. Understood?" 

"Why all the rush?" Bill asked. 

"I really don't think that is any of your business," she bristled. "If you 
locate Terri in ten days, you can make a lot of money, if you just want to 
ask a lot of personal questions that are none of your concern, then any 
further discussion is fruitless," she said, rising from the couch, her eyes 
glinting with anger. 

Bill reassessed the woman standing a few feet away. She was hard. Harder 
than he had originally thought. He was picking up some heavy vibes and he 
didn't like them. She was holding out when there was no reason. He decided 
to accept the challenge her hard eyes were thrusting at him. "Listen, Mrs. 
Martin, the fuzz either can't or won't help you. So if you have a deadline 
to meet and I can deliver for you, then you need me more than I need you. 
Since that is the case, we play the game my way. I call the shots all the 
shots. Either we play by my rules or I pick up my marbles and go home." 

They were standing a few feet apart. Their only contact, the projections of 
their wills centered in the pinpoints of their pupils and locked in a 
silent, but violent struggle for power. Time stopped. Only their minds 
functioned. Silent wills leaped into the intervening space, clashing, 
twisting, and struggling for ultimate power. The air crackled with the 
tenseness of the battle silent but awesome. 

Bill hung on with a fierce, stubborn pride that had been his hallmark all of 
his life. He'd hung on through a fatherless childhood, through the uphill 
grind to get an education, and in the slime-coated rice paddies of Vietnam. 
He'd been tempted many times to chuck the whole thing, to back off, 
extricate himself from an uncomfortable position, but he had always hung in 
there, casting aside his doubts and fears. 

Even as he watched, his eyes unwavering, Bill saw Mrs. Martin falter, then, 
with a sigh, break the hold of their locked eyes. She fumbled in her handbag 
and drew out a long, filter-tipped cigarette. Bill quickly stepped forward, 
his flaming lighter extended. 

"Thank you, Mr. Sherman," she said, drawing in the smoke. "Since we are 
going to be working together, may I call you Bill? It seems a little more 
friendly." 

Bill Sherman's face broke out into a smile as he watched Mrs. Martin return 
to her seat on the couch and cross her legs, showing the tautness of her 
thighs. She patted the cushion next to her, saying, "Sit down, Bill, and 
I'll tell you the whole story, so you'll understand." 

Sitting down next to her, Bill made a mental note of the new softness that 
was expressed in Mrs. Martin's face and posture. She was relaxed, seductive 
even. He relaxed against the cushions and waited. 

"You're very strong-willed, Bill. I like that. It means that once you take 
something on, you'll stick with it. But we can take that up a little later," 
she said, placing her hand lightly on Bill's arm. 

He felt the warmth penetrating the cloth covering his arm. There was just 
the hint of tightening in the fingers. Bill flexed the muscles in his arm to 
return the implied offer. 

"Suppose you tell me why it is so important that you get Terri back within 
ten days," he said evenly, pretending to ignore the pressure on his arm. 

The hand left his arm, and he looked into her frank, brown eyes, smoldering 
now with deep fire. 

"As I said, I'm Terri's legal guardian. Her parents and an older brother 
were killed in an auto accident when she was only three. Her father was my 
older brother. After the accident, the court awarded me custody, but my 
brother's will provided that his attorneys be named as executors of his 
estate. To be very frank, Bill, I think that those shyster lawyers have 
robbed the estate blind, so I need Terri to testify in court in order to be 
named executor of the estate as well as her guardian. So that's why time is 
important; the court hearing on my petition is only ten days away and 
without Terri I really don't stand much of a chance of winning." 

Fanciful numbers spun through Bill's brain, clicking over with 
calculator-type regularity. This was money big money--money enough to buy 
his freedom if he played his cards right. He wouldn't have to cop out to the 
Establishment. If he could pull this trick off, he could have his cake and 
eat it too. He was human enough that the idea appealed to the larceny in his 
soul, but then those who never took advantage of a situation fell by the 
wayside. He decided to gamble, to push for as much as he could get. 

"Okay, Mrs. Martin, just what's in this for me?" 

"Would, say, a thousand dollars be fair, Bill?" she asked, smiling and 
leaning closer. 

"Peanuts!" Bill almost barked. "You're playing for big stakes too. I'll lay 
it out in front for you. As far as I'm concerned, this hippie movement is 
dead. It's spread out in a hundred different directions. There's no 
centralization anymore. So, to make a long story short, I'm looking for a 
new line of work, but one that gives me the freedom I want. You want control 
of a large estate; I want part of the action." 

Again, Bill watched as Mrs. Martin's eyes hardened and narrowed to tiny 
slits as she looked at him with a new and frankly appraising manner. He 
could almost hear her mind clicking over as she weighed his demand. As he 
watched, the hard look softened and she leaned closer. His nostrils took in 
the scent of her and he was pulled toward her by the magnitude of her 
physical beauty. His eyes reassessed her figure with a quick flicker. When 
he again looked at her face, she was smiling broadly. 

"Just which part of the action did you have in mind, Bill?" she teased. 

He'd been caught with the meat in his mouth and he knew it, so he played 
along and leaned back on the couch and smiled, "How about the whole ball of 
wax? Sort of a melding of talents," he answered. 

"A very bold offer, Bill, but an intriguing one. Why don't you let me sleep 
on it? Since you feel that locating Terri offers no major problems, then 
time loses some of its importance, doesn't it?" 

Still playing the game, Bill decided to move boldly. "Since you want to 
sleep on it, will it be your place or mine?" he asked with only the hint of 
sarcasm edging his voice. 

"You play a very bold game," she admitted, standing up and smoothing the 
tiny wrinkles on her skirt. "Which way is the bathroom?" she asked. 

"Through that door and at the end of the hall," Bill replied with a wave of 
his hand and a nod of his head. 

"Thank you," she said, striding across the room and then pausing at the 
indicated doorway. "By the way, my name is Millicent," she informed him as 
she turned and disappeared through the door. 

Closing the folded louvered doors of his closet, Bill finally heard the 
toilet in the bathroom flush and the door open. While Millicent Martin had 
been occupied getting ready, Bill had taken the time to pull off his clothes 
and hang them neatly in the closet. 

Working quickly, Bill had first .closed the curtains, shutting off the late 
afternoon view of the canyon, and turned down the zebra-striped spread on 
his king-size bed, exposing the red satin sheet and pillow cases. 

As he turned toward the door, she walked through it, looking small, wrapped 
in his short hapi coat with the vividly colored Japanese designs on the 
back. Her perfectly rounded thighs and legs were accented by the coat's 
short length. Bill had been so busy evaluating her legs that he had 
completely forgotten about his own complete nakedness. 

"I suppose you greet all of your bedroom guests that way," she said, walking 
to a chair and neatly draping her dress, slip, and other underthings across 
the back. 

"Just about," he said, sitting on the edge of the bed and leaning back on 
his elbows. Swinging his feet onto the bed, Bill stretched out on his back, 
his fingers locked comfortably behind his head. His limp prick arched across 
one thigh in a wrinkled bow. 

She walked across the room and stood in front of him, her legs spread 
slightly, hands on hips. "Well?" she asked archly. 

"Well, get in bed," Bill replied, lying back on the red satin sheet, his 
eyes dropping to take in the smooth skin that stretched tight over her 
thighs and legs. Her muscles were flexed, she was still a little mad because 
she had lost in their first battle of wills. Now she was using her sex in a 
second effort to dominate him. Fuck you, he thought. 

Unballing the fists that she had defiantly placed on her hips, Bill watched 
from beneath half-closed eyes as she brought her hands together over the 
firmly tied bow holding the two sections of the coat closed. Pulling at one 
end of a strand with one hand, she held the garment closed with the other. 
With deliberate slowness, she tugged at the sash until it fell free and hung 
loosely from the belt loops in the back of the jacket. Still holding the 
edges of the hapi coat together, she placed a bare knee on the edge of the 
mattress and looked down at Bill's hooded eyes, and then at his flaccid cock 
hanging limply against the deep tan of his thigh. 

"You could at least show a little enthusiasm," she said, shrugging the coat 
off her shoulders but still holding it closed with her hand. 

The action was done deliberately to provoke Bill, but he wasn't about to 
fall for that old bit. She'd have to run some heavier numbers before he'd 
play her game. He was playing for keeps and she'd have to play his game or 
not play at all. 

He looked at the swelling mounds of her breasts pushing out from the sides 
of the vee made by the coat as it gaped open. The bottom hem had risen 
slightly, giving him a tantalizing view of her well-formed thighs. As he 
watched, Millicent let the coat drop to the floor and stood at the side of 
the bed, letting Bill's eyes wander over her entire body indiscriminately. 

Hard, pointed breasts crested by tiny, dark nipples met his eyes as he took 
in her body with a sweeping glance. The lateral lines made by her ribs were 
barely visible and framed the firm line of muscles running down her belly 
and into the puffy mound of her richly dark pubis. Bill noted that the hair 
over her mound twirled and swirled in a thick mat of tight curls that shaped 
themselves into a perfect triangle. 

Bill sensed that her every move was calculated for its maximum effect. She 
was trying to get him hung up on her body, taunting him by flaunting her 
beauty before him in an effort to gain back the advantage she had lost in 
their verbal exchange in the living room. 

Kneeling on the bed, she leaned over his body, letting the silky, soft 
strands of her hair brush across his legs and thighs. Bill clamped his teeth 
together. This was his moment of truth. He'd have to be at his best in the 
next few minutes if he was going to win the biggest prize he had ever tried 
for in his short life. 

As her long, loosely hanging hair brushed sensuously back and forth across 
the hardened muscles of Bill's belly, she shifted her body with a natural 
flowing movement, straddling his legs with her parted thighs. "Just lie back 
and relax," she cooed, "you're going to like this." 

She was going to top-ride. Bill ordinarily enjoyed this from time to time, 
but now wasn't the time. He waited while her face moved closer to his, her 
lips parting in invitation. The silky veil of her hanging hair closed around 
his face and head, her lips moved toward his own, her tiny tongue-tip 
flicking out and across the freshly scrubbed surface of her lips, making 
them glisten in the soft afternoon light that filtered through the drawn 
curtains. Her hands slipped up over his strong shoulders, gripping him with 
firm fingers. Her head cocked to one side and then their lips met, fused, 
and sealed themselves together in an ever-increasing heat. 

During the several moments that it had required Millicent Martin to work her 
way over Bill's prone body, he had worked out his strategy. The time for 
talking was past. He had already won that round, so he didn't have to risk 
his position by reopening a verbal exchange. Now was the time for action. No 
words, just action, his kind of action. 

Despite his efforts, the first tingling waves of sensation ran their 
twinkling fingers over his flesh as he felt her body pressing closer to his 
own. After their lips joined as one, he shot his tongue deeply into her 
mouth before she could insert hers into his. As their saliva-coated tongues 
dueled in her mouth for supremacy, Bill felt the hard points of her puckered 
nipples press hotly against his chest. Then the bristling brush of her pubis 
rubbed against him as her hips settled lower over his crotch. She swayed 
from side to side, letting their crotches scrape together sensuously. 

Lifting his arms, Bill encircled her small back, gripped her behind the 
neck, and, with a sudden, heaving lunge, bucked upward. Twisting to the side 
with his hips, Bill threw Millicent off his body and onto her back. Pinning 
her soft shoulders to the bed, Bill straddled her body, his powerful thighs 
resting on either side of her rib cage. His hands gripped her wrists and 
held them secure despite her frantic struggle to free herself. Their 
struggle caused Bill's cock to sway back and forth in front of Millicent's 
face. Her eyes rolled from side to side as she watched, almost hypnotized, 
as the thick piece of wrinkled meat slapped each of his thighs. Scooting 
forward on the bed, Bill felt the backs of his thighs rub across the hard 
pinpoints of her perky nipples. They drilled two spots of heat into his 
skin. 

"You sonofabitch" she spit at him, "I don't want it this way." 

"You'll take it any way I want to give it to you," he said between gritted 
teeth. Leaning forward, Bill pinned her arms under his knees, his cock 
swinging freely just above the thin line of her tightly compressed lips. Her 
eyes again glued themselves to the swaying bulbous head with its slitted 
tip. 

Millicent made a final effort to break loose from the hold that had her 
pinned to the bed, but Bill was firmly in place and could not be shaken from 
his perch despite her wriggling and arching. The strain of her efforts 
brought small beads of perspiration to her forehead and upper lip. They 
caught the light in the room and shimmered as she strove to break free. Her 
thrashing body was pressing hard against Bill's, making him aware of the 
firmness of her flesh and the wiry strength that lay hidden beneath the 
voluptuous exterior. 

As their bodies rubbed together in their mutual struggle, Bill felt the 
first waves of passion ripple across his stomach. His cock jerked and rose 
away from his thighs, thickening and straightening in its journey upward. It 
bowed out in a shallow arc, the head swelling as it filled with blood, which 
changed its color from a rosy pink to a deeper vermilion. 

As his prick rose, stiff and proud, Bill released his vise-like grip on 
Millicent's wrists. Her arms were still pinned beneath the weight of his 
knees. Holding his stiff prick in one hand, he wrapped his fingers into the 
dark strands of her hair and yanked hard. Her mouth opened in a cry of 
protest and Bill's prick slid in between her lips and settled in her mouth. 
The sudden, sharp pain and the foreign intrusion into her mouth made 
Millicent struggle fiercely to dislodge Bill from his superior position and 
reject the hot flesh that was invading her mouth. 

Bill held her head tightly with both hands and as she gagged out a cry of 
insult and indignation, Bill slid more of his cock into her mouth until at 
last he felt the bulbous head bump against the back of her throat. He half 
expected her to bite down on his inflamed prick, but the harsh grip of her 
teeth never came. Her struggling efforts slowly ceased and her resisting 
mouth held his rampant member loosely within its warm, wet cavern. 

"Now suck it and don't give me any shit!" Bill spat at her, shoving his hips 
forward. 

Bill could feel her body loosening and relaxing, her taut muscles becoming 
softer and more pliable. Her slack mouth tightened around his cock, and her 
cheeks pulled inward as she drew hard on the staff that had invaded her 
mouth. Bill felt her tongue slide wetly across the head of his prick as he 
suspended himself above her prostrate body, his hand still gripping her head 
tightly in its grasp. He'd won. She was doing it his way. 

He relaxed, letting the sensual sensations created by Millicent's sucking 
mouth engulf his body, making it tingle and surge with waves of pentup 
passion. He matched the sensual undulations of his bodily systems with a 
gently rolling sway of his hips. The action sent his cock in and out of 
Millicent's mouth. He was literally fucking her in the mouth and was 
enjoying it. He didn't give a shit whether she liked it or not, he liked it 
fine. 

Releasing his tenacious hold on Millicent's hair, Bill rested his weight 
evenly on both hands. Moving his knees back, he unpinned her arms. This 
would be her chance, if she wanted to use it. She could fight back again, 
but Bill didn't feel that she would. He had established himself as the 
dominant partner. 

With the weight off her arms, Millicent circled Bill's waist, rubbing his 
flanks and hard, knotted stomach. Forcing her elbows between his thighs, she 
gripped the hard shank of his cock so that he could not push too far into 
her mouth. With her other hand, she cupped his hanging balls, kneading and 
rolling the two spheres that were encased in the wrinkled sac hanging 
between his legs and bumping against her chin. 

Bill felt her tongue as it slid and lapped at the head of his prick. 
Millicent was holding his prick so that he could not thrust too deeply into 
her mouth and gag her. He thrilled to the wet clamp of her mouth as it drew 
at his cock, her spit dribbling down the stem and dripping off the end as 
she drew it free of her mouth. 

Holding him back, Millicent took several deep breaths and, as Bill watched 
from above her, snaked her tongue out to caress the slit at the top of his 
cock. Tilting his dick in the air above her face, she let her tongue play 
along the underside of the shaft and around the base of the glans. It jerked 
with involuntary spasms, the throbs pulling her hand and taking his cock 
temporarily out of reach of her thrusting tongue. Having permitted her this 
one indulgence, Bill eased his hips forward with persistence, reinserting 
his dong in her mouth. As she held it tightly in her fist, Bill rocked back 
and forth, sending his meat in and out of her mouth like a piston in a 
well-oiled cylinder. His bodily fluids were being drained from every part of 
his body and centering in his bludgeoning cock. 

Millicent's tongue was increasing its licking and stroking of his hot flesh 
as it pushed in and out of her mouth. She sucked hard as Bill pulled his 
cock from the tightly compressed restriction of her lips. He liked her 
mouth. She could suck fairly well, and could be an expert with a little 
practice. 

Bill felt the come boiling in his balls as she turned them over in her 
hands. The viscous fluid was building in the small reserve deep within his 
body, gathering and waiting for the time it could pour forth and saturate 
everything in front of the spitting cock's head. That would be one way, Bill 
thought, but it wasn't the one he had planned. There would have to be more 
than just fucking this chick in the mouth until he came. He would have to 
establish his dominance beyond a shadow of a doubt. If he didn't hurry, it 
would be too late. 

Rocking back, Bill pulled his dripping cock from Millicent's mouth. Her lips 
pouted with displeasure and her brows knitted themselves together in a deep 
frown. Bill looked down with pleasure. She liked sucking him off. So far so 
good. Now for the next step. 

"Bill? Let me finish you this say. I'll make it good for you, I promise," 
she said, a pleading look in her eyes. 

Either she was one hell of an actress, or he had it made from here on out, 
Bill thought to himself as he took his weight off her body and knelt by her 
side on the bed. 

Without a reply, he grabbed Millicent Martin roughly by the hips and pulled 
her over on her stomach. The rounded cheeks of her small ass jutted upward 
and flattened slightly as she relaxed the bunched muscles that banded her 
backside. Reaching down, Bill grabbed Millicent's ankle closest to him and 
pulled it roughly aside, spreading her legs in a wide vee. Walking on his 
knees, Bill got between her outspread legs and started pulling her hips back 
so that she was pulled to her knees. She resisted again, attempting to stay 
flat on the bed. 

"No! Not that way! I don't like being fucked like a bitch dog in heat. Let 
me turn over and do it that way, or let me got on top. I like that the best. 
Let me do it my way, you'll love it, I promise," she pleaded with him. 

Her cries and arguments fell on deaf ears. Bill was busily shoving her legs 
further and further apart and getting her knees planted well under her body. 
She was now standing up on her knees. Circling her supple waist with one 
arm, Bill grabbed the back of her neck with the other and pushed her forward 
harshly. Her head turned to the side as she was jolted forward by the force 
and power of his arm, her hips held in place firmly against his tightened 
belly. She didn't even have a chance to break her fall with her hands. Her 
head hit the pillow and she buried her face in its soft folds, gripping the 
satin sheet with her balled fists. 

"You'll take it any way I want to give it to you," Bill snarled as he guided 
his prick toward her now open pussy. 

"No! You'll hurt me. I'm not ready," she complained bitterly as the head of 
his cock nestled itself in the soft folds of her cunt's lips. 

"Don't shit me, you cunt!" Bill exploded, "You're practically a running 
river," and he jammed himself forward, burying half his length in her 
slushing channel. 

He felt the resistance of her flesh as the tissue grudgingly gave way before 
his relentless prick as it plowed into her with all the force he could put 
into the stroke. Gathering himself, Bill looked down the sloping curve of 
back as it fell away from his hips. Bending himself, Bill lurched forward 
again, jabbing his hips forward and yanking back on her hips which he still 
had tightly gripped in his hands. He sank all the way into her, his long 
column of superheated flesh engorging the tight cavern of her cunt. His 
balls swung forward as his belly bumped against her rump and they bounced 
solidly against the tightly stretched skin covering the cheeks of her 
upturned ass. It felt good. Real good. He was in her balls deep. 

Millicent was biting hard into the pillow under her face. Bill remembered 
with satisfaction that she had grunted when his cock's head had hit the 
bottom of her channel. He didn't want to pull out of her right then, but 
wanted her to feel his presence, to acknowledge that she knew that he was 
fucking her like a bitch dog in heat. He was going to make her like it, 
because he liked it. 

Rotating his hips, Bill stretched and expanded her cunt. He heard the 
slurping sounds of her wetness as he moved his cock around in a tight circle 
in her box. He felt the resistance and resilience of her tight cunt as he 
ground into her with all his strength. His actions soon brought small moans 
from Millicent as she lay with her head buried in the pillow. When he judged 
the time to be right, Bill pulled his cock slowly from her hole, savoring 
the sucking pull of her clinging flesh as his fluid-slickened pole slid out 
of her. 

Releasing his tight grip on her hips, Bill moved his hand over the firmness 
and slope of her back, kneading and stroking the smooth expanse of skin that 
lay open and available to him. He was pulling his hips back and when only 
the head of his cock was lodged securely within the grip of her slit, Bill 
rested for a moment on his haunches. His fingers made small fluttering 
trails over the satin-like smoothness of her thighs and belly, deliberately 
missing the open wet slit that cleaved her between the thighs. His hands 
moved up her body and he cupped her hanging breasts as they hung swaying 
above the bed. Searching, he found the tiny tips and ran his fingers across 
the tender surfaces until they were hardened and inflamed. The moans coming 
from the pillow were increasing as he nipped and pulled at her nipples. 

Taking as much of her breasts into each hand as he could, Bill gripped the 
warming mounds of her breasts tightly and then lunged forward suddenly, his 
hips jabbing ahead, sending his cock deeply into her. The knobby surfaces of 
his cock ripped into her and brought a ringing cry from her lips. 

Without a pause, Bill began plunging in and out of her cunt, exalting in the 
feeling of power and subjugation that he had over Millicent Martin. His 
entire body was alive, throbbing with the pure joy of fucking like he wanted 
to fuck and not giving a good damn for what the chick wanted. He wanted her 
to be repulsed, to be angry, to be unfulfilled in her needs. He was doing 
his thing and she'd have to adjust to his way of fucking and get what 
pleasure she could out of it. 

Her moans increased as he stepped up the tempo of his thrusting hips and he 
drove himself into her body time and time again. His prick was raging with a 
cool, slick fire, his balls banged against her upturned backside, humping 
first one then the other cheek of her wide ass. His fingers tightened their 
grip on her breasts and he used her hanging tits to give himself added 
thrusting power as he pushed forward and pulled back. He could feel the 
hardened points of her nipples as they brushed back and forth across the 
palms of his hands. 

The change was so subtle that he really didn't realize it until after 
several long moments. Millicent Martin was responding, becoming erotically 
excited by his wild thrustings and plunging into the depths of her 
womanhood. Bill, almost without realizing it, became aware that she was 
beginning to push back against his every stroke. Her moans were not moans of 
protest as they had started, but now were full moans of building pleasure 
and cries for fulfillment of pent-up desires and emotions. Bill reveled in 
his ability and power to bring this headstrong and iron-willed woman to his 
way of loving. To make her do and enjoy the very things that were the most 
repugnant to her. He had her now and it was time for the grand finale to sew 
it up tight. 

Stretching carefully as he lunged into her and then pulled free with the 
steady, powerful piston-like strokes, Bill carefully opened one of the 
drawers on the nightstand next to the bed and withdrew a tube of lubricating 
cream. Sweat was rolling down his body and dripping onto Millicent's arched 
back where the droplets glistened in the soft light of the room. Bill 
twisted the cap off the tube and pinched the bottom, forcing a worm-like 
cylinder of the viscous material onto his middle finger. 

Smiling inwardly, Bill exulted in the feeling of Millicent's supple body as 
it writhed beneath him, pushing back as he sent his ramrod-hard cock jabbing 
into her cunt. He could feel the muscles gripping his cock as it rammed deep 
in her pussy. Her entire vaginal channel was a mass of twisting, clamping 
muscles, pulling and tugging at his cock as it pulled free of the confining 
grasp of her. 

He reached between their thrusting bodies and, with a single swipe of his 
finger, spread the cream down the opened crack of her ass and into the 
wrinkled star of her slightly open ass-hole. His touch caused her to writhe 
and push against him harder. 

With a smooth, fluid movement, Bill pulled his cock free of her cunt and, 
rising higher on his knees, guided the bulging head toward the dark brown 
spot that glistened with the lubricating cream. Millicent protested the loss 
of the hot meat that had been ramming into her cunt, but made no move to 
protect her exposed ass-hole. 

Holding the stem of his cock in one hand, Bill aimed the head at the rear 
orifice and lunged forward. The head hit the tight hole and bent as it 
encountered the tight resistance of her rear entrance. Jabbing his hips 
forward, the head insinuated itself in the open and lubricated gap. 

Gathering himself, Bill dove onto Millicent's back, his hips grinding, 
pushing his cock into her rear hole. 

"Christ! Not there! You're hurting me!" she screamed as her body twisted and 
attempted to pull away from the impaling piece of meat that was spearing 
into the tight channel of her ass. 

Wrapping his arms about her waist to hold her in position for his attack, 
Bill relentlessly pushed more of his cock into her. He wanted to shove his 
cock right into her bowels, to make her feel the power of his manhood as it 
throbbed and grew within her protesting body. 

"Fuck you," he growled, "Relax and enjoy it because this is the way you're 
going to get it!" 

"Ow! You fucking bastard! Take it out, you're killing me! I've never had it 
that way before and I don't like it. You're going to rip me wide open," she 
shouted against the pillow as she tried, without success, to pull her body 
away from him. 

Bill hung on tightly to her flailing hips and rammed his staff into her 
ass-hole until his belly rubbed her upraised butt and his balls banged hard 
against the taut skin covering the cheeks of her ass. In and out his prick 
raged as he fucked her ass with ever-increasing ferocity and fury. He could 
feel the tissues in her virgin channel protestingly expand to make room for 
his hot prick as it ripped in and out of her. 

Her grunts and moans of protest were taking on another tone as he continued 
to drill his cock into her ass. They had softened into a groaning gasp which 
marked each new plunge and withdrawal. Bill's hands roamed over her back and 
down her flanks, coming to rest on the soft skin of her underbelly. Gripping 
the skin tightly, he pulled her back as he jammed himself forward to take 
her again. His fingers dug in so deeply that Bill was sure that there would 
be red marks on her perfectly clear white skin. He wanted that. He wanted 
her to remember just how she had been taken, the fierceness of it. The 
brutal joy of the use of her body. 

Laboriously, Bill sucked air into his burning lungs as he sought to relieve 
the strain that his body was making upon his breathing. His entire body was 
starting to ache with the draining strain of his efforts. Sweat was popping 
out in small beads on his forehead and upper lip. A droplet formed between 
his knitted brows, gathered, then plunged down the straight line of his nose 
where it formed again, gathered, glistened for a moment, and then dropped to 
a spattering death on Millicent's back. Bill watched its fall with 
disinterest, observed the writhing figure beneath his plunging body, and 
threw himself over Millicent's back. With one hand he sought and found the 
slitted entrance to her cunt. Wiggling his fingers in the wet gap, Bill 
sought and finally found the distended, blood-filled nub of her clit. He 
pulled at it hard with his fingers. The slickened tissue slipped through his 
fingers and snapped back into Millicent's tissued groove. Again his 
claw-like fingers dove into the slot and gripped the little knob of 
Millicent's engorged clit. Bill, with practiced deliberation, established a 
pulling, snapping rhythm in time with the stroking of his prick into her 
ass. With his other hand, he reached down her body and grasped one of her 
hanging breasts, letting his fingers play across the nipple, feeling the 
fullness of the puckered tip. Bill squeezed the swinging globe of her 
hanging breast and pinched the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. His 
fingers and hands were working in perfect rhythm with his thrusting cock as 
it jabbed incessantly into her ass. 

"Oh, fuck!" Millicent cried into the pillow, her hips ramming back against 
his impaling prick, her butt swaying back and forth as she attempted to get 
the maximum sensation from all the erotically aroused areas of her body that 
Bill was stimulating with greater and greater force. "I'm going to come, 
goddamn you! Now give it to me hard!" she sputtered, half in rage, half in 
supercharged passion brought on by the flooding of her system with spasmodic 
fulfillment. 

Bill's bunching muscles were screaming for relief from the terrible strain 
to which he had submitted them. His teeth were gritted together, locked in 
the effort to maintain the pace of his thrusting body. Other forces were at 
work within the powerful frame of his body. His come was boiling out of his 
balls, running through the labyrinth of ducts and tubes that interlaced his 
entire pelvic area. His milk gathered for that moment of final release that 
would send it spurting from the slitted end of his cock and splashing deep 
in the bowels of Millicent Martin, coating her entrails with a life-giving 
force that would never fulfill its function. 

With a surging cry which started deep in his throat, Bill lunged forward 
with his entire weight, sweat breaking out in heavy droplets on his face and 
chest. The freshly gathered come, bubbling at the base of his cock started 
to move, to make its last quick voyage in darkness, before being spit into 
the warm channel of her bowels. 

Bill felt the entire length of his cock swell with the building pressure and 
then the spurting release. Again the pressure built and was released as he 
shot his milky fluids into her rectum. He had never come like this before; 
it was a total offering an outpouring of lust and power and he was thrilled 
by the heady feeling it gave him. 

As his come poured out of him and into Millicent's body, Bill felt the lust 
draining from his sweating body. He started to relax, his prick softening 
and sliding from Millicent's rectum as she squeezed his now flaccid prick 
with the still spasming muscles of her ass. Bill felt the head plop from the 
tight, dark ring, and as the fleshy connection was broken, he fell to the 
bed, pulling Millicent with him, his arms wrapped around her warm and 
responding flesh. His eyes closed as he floated on the euphoric cloud of 
afterglow, and he dozed. 

 CHAPTER FOUR 

The morning sun was just peeking over the lip of the canyon, its rays 
turning the tips of the scrub bushes a bright green. Bill stood in his robe 
on the edge of his driveway as Millicent Martin backed out in her Mercedes 
coupe and turned down the winding road to the city below. 

He fingered the check for a thousand dollars stuffed in his pocket and 
complimented himself for a well-played game. 

In his other pocket was the slip of paper with the address of Millicent's 
Beverly Hills friend with whom she was staying while in Los Angeles. His 
prick still tingled from the memory of his late afternoon conquest and the 
full night's sleep that he had just completed. 

The hastily concocted plan was working out perfectly. He had played a long 
shot and won. As he watched the small car disappear down the road, Bill 
reflected on his new opportunity. If he played his cards right, he could get 
out of the bounty hunter racket and move to San Francisco to help Millicent 
manage Terri Martin's estate, once Millicent got control from the lawyers 
after the court hearing which would be within ten days. He'd be on Easy 
Street. He could keep his ideals and not have to sell out to the 
Establishment. He'd be in the driver's seat. After yesterday, he knew that 
he could control Millicent Martin, and she had assured him that she could 
control Terri, if he could find her. That was now his immediate problem. 
Find Terri Martin. 

Walking back to the house, Bill went over in his mind some of the facts that 
Millicent had revealed to him about Terri. There was only one unusual trait 
which he noted; Terri didn't have any steady boyfriends. Millicent had 
mentioned in passing that Terri never had any romantic interests at all, 
which struck Bill as rather strange. He had seen her doing her wild dance at 
the party and knew that she should have dozens of cats beating a path to her 
door. He wondered why she rejected boys. He would have to find out if he 
could. 

Walking back into the house, Bill headed for the shower, pulling off his 
robe and tossing it on a chair as he walked through the living room. Looking 
down at his body, he noted with satisfaction the dark splotches of dried 
blood that clung to the length of his hanging prick. Millicent Martin had 
awakened with a sore ass and walked like it when she finally went to her car 
which was parked in the driveway. He'd done what he had to and had enjoyed 
it, but he still felt as if it were work and had a faint stirring deep down 
in his loins, as if he were still unsatisfied. 

Tingling jets of hot water spewed from the shower head as he turned the 
knobs and stepped in under the spray. The warmth splashed against his body, 
covering him with a lulling heat like a blanket. Bill didn't move, but just 
stood there, letting the hot water run over his body, relaxing him and 
giving new life to his fatigued muscles. Finally, after several minutes of 
letting the hot spray play over his flesh, he started to soap his body, 
washing off the smells of his and Millicent Martin's violent coupling. That 
felt good for some reason which Bill could not really understand. He 
rejected the uneasy feeling that was nibbling at the back of his mind and 
covered his body with the cleansing lather or soap, savoring the aroma of 
his freshly scrubbed skin. 

After rinsing himself thoroughly, Bill turned off the spraying jet of hot 
water, pulled open the frosted glass door, and stepped onto the furry rug 
beside the shower door. When he reached for the big fluffy towel on its 
accustomed rack, his hand encountered only the cold metal of the bar. 

Bill could have sworn that the towel was in its proper place when he had 
stepped into the shower. Mumbling to himself that he must be losing his 
marbles, Bill shook the water from his body and started down the hallway to 
the linen closet to get a fresh towel. Halfway down the hall, Bill stopped 
short, his mouth dropping open, his eyes wide. 

"Man, what you doing running around with all that white meat hanging out? 
You trying to turn me on?" she said with a laughing tinkle in her voice. 

Bill stood frozen for a second and then dashed for the linen closet, 
wrenched open a door, and hastily pulled a towel around his middle. 

"Why the hell don't you let someone know you're here?" he growled at Marge, 
his colored maid, who came to the house once a week to clean up. 

"Maybe I wanted to see if you ofays were any different," she said, laughing 
and holding up the towel that had recently hung on the towel bar in the 
bathroom. 

"Where the hell did you get that?" Bill fumed at the dusky-skinned girl 
smiling at him from the end of the hall. 

"From the towel rack in the bathroom, naturally," she said, letting her eyes 
roam up and down his half-nude body. 

"If you wanted some action, why didn't you just climb in the shower and 
integrate?" Bill asked as he appreciated the lushness of her body which was 
crammed into a skin-tight blue nylon uniform, the buttons down the front 
nearly bursting with the fullness of her breasts. 

Bill had always wondered What it would be like to ball a spade chick and 
each time he thought about it his mind flashed to a picture of Marge in her 
always-too-tight uniform. He leaned against the doorjamb of the bedroom and 
let his eyes frankly appraise her body. She had nice legs which flared into 
full, swaying hips, a flat stomach, and then her body nearly exploded into 
two melon-like breasts that bounced provocatively when she walked. 

"Ever since I have been working for you, I've wondered what it would be like 
to have a nice white cat, and maybe I'm just turned on more than usual 
today," she said frankly with a smile. 

Undoing the towel from around his waist, Bill draped it over his shoulder 
and walked into the bedroom. 

"There's no time like the present," he said over his shoulder as he 
disappeared through the door. 

As he walked to the still rumpled bed, Bill felt the familiar animal 
stirring deep in his loins. That imperceptible rumble in his balls that 
traveled up into his prick and made it tingle and rise. He was leaning over 
the bed, straightening the tumbled sheets and fluffing the pillows, when he 
heard Marge enter the room behind him. 

"That bed looks like it had a hard night, you sure you got enough for me, 
ofay?" 

Bill straightened up, turned around, and displayed his manhood, fully erect 
and pulsating with desire. It was standing away from his body like a pole, 
the end thick and red, swollen with blood, the vermilion skin tight and 
shiny with the strength of his hard-on. He stared at Marge, his hips thrust 
forward slightly to accent the fullness of his cock. 

"Will this do for openers?" he asked as he tossed the towel to a chair. 

"If you act as good as you look, you'll do just fine," Marge said, her 
fingers pulling at the top buttons on her uniform. They popped open, one 
after the other, as she hurriedly undid the restraining fastenings, exposing 
more and more of her dusky skin. 

Unbuttoning her blue uniform to her waist, Marge pulled it quickly off her 
shoulders and stepped out of it, tossing it to the same chair where Bill's 
towel lay draped over the back. Her pure white bra, filled to overflowing 
with the weight of her tits, contrasted perfectly with her dark skin. 
Reaching behind her with practiced fingers, Marge unhooked the bra and 
shrugged it off her shoulders, letting it drop to the floor at her feet. 

Bill's eyes riveted themselves on the strong, swaying breasts that bobbed 
from the confines of the restricting bra. They were magnificent. Marge's 
big, nearly black nipples were already starting to poke out. As Bill watched 
in fascination, she cupped the large globes in her hands and lifted them, 
stroking the flesh with her fingers, letting her thumb and forefinger tweak 
the rising nipples so they became bloated and stood up hard and firm, filled 
with blood. 

Marge smiled when she saw the expression on Bill's face and dropped her 
hands, letting them slide down her body, over her flat, muscled stomach. She 
hooked her thumbs in the waistbands of her half-slip and panties and pushed 
them down, tossing her lower body from side to side in order to work the 
thin material over her flaring butt and hips. Finally freed, the 
underclothes dropped in a pile around her feet. She stepped out of the soft 
mound of white and kicked the flimsy material to the side. She stood there 
for a moment, completely naked, letting Bill explore her body with his eyes, 
as he savored its richness and lush contours. Moving forward, she stopped 
just inches away from Bill so that her soft belly barely touched the flaming 
end of his cock. 

"You ever have a black girl before?" she asked as she placed her hands on 
his shoulders, tilting her head back and cocking it to one side. 

"You're the first and only," Bill replied, his hands gripping her waist to 
feel the resilient skin, warm and soft under his fingers. 

"Well, you're the first white man so make it nice. Make the first one 
something to remember," she said, arching her back and pushing her pelvis 
closer to him so it rubbed hard against the rigid pole of flesh that jammed 
into her soft belly. 

The word black flashed through Bill's mind for a split second, but he 
rejected it as deep-seated prejudice and only thought of Marge as a desirous 
woman, whose body was ready and eager for erotic stimulation and sexual 
fulfillment. 

Stepping forward, Bill crushed his body against hers, his lips seeking and 
then finding hers. His arms circled her waist and he pulled her tight 
against him, feeling the tingling warmth of her flesh as it melded with his. 
He felt the scratch of her pubic hair as her hips ground against his, 
seeking added stimulation. Her arms entwined themselves around his neck, and 
her full, rich breasts pressed tightly against his chest, the thick, hard 
nipples poking little pins of fire into his skin where they touched. 

Bill heard the sharp intake of air through her nostrils as she breathed 
deeply and then felt her lips open under his as she breathed out in a great, 
groaning sigh. Relaxing, Bill let his wet tongue slip past her open lips and 
into her mouth, exploring the wet softness and liquid heat that he found 
with his tongue's tip. Working his tongue in and out of her mouth, Bill 
tasted the sweetness and felt the hot tip of her tongue as it dueled back at 
his, probing and circling. 

Breathing hard, Bill released his tight grip on her waist and let his hands 
wander up and down her body, seeking, finding, and exploring all the 
indentations and bulges that his fingers could reach. He pressed and kneaded 
the fleshy cheeks of her full rump, enjoying the resilience of her skin, the 
power and control of her muscles as she pulled them tight under his grasp. 
He sought her breasts, but could only feel the sides of those magnificent 
orbs from between their tightly pressed bodies. He wanted to feel more of 
her, but they were welded together too tightly, fused together in a torrid 
embrace. 

Reluctantly, he pulled his head back, breaking their kiss. As his eyes 
flicked open for a moment, he saw Marge's bright pink tongue slither back 
into her mouth where he had so recently been thrusting his own tongue in an 
imitation of the coital act. Watching, he saw her eyes open, a frown on her 
face. Her deep brown eyes burned with lust, with an animal craving that must 
have satisfaction, with a tension that must be relieved. 

"For Christ's sake, get on the fucking bed," he blurted, "I want to feel you 
all over and I can't do it this way." 

They stumbled the few steps between them and the waiting bed and fell across 
it together, hands grabbing, muscles knotting, and mouths seeking. Their 
lips met, opened; their tongues met and dueled again in a wet battlefield. 

Bill rolled to his side and reached for Marge's large tits. His fingers felt 
the swelling flesh and his hand closed around one mammoth globe, pressing 
it, kneading it, and feeling the hard warmth of the distended nipple against 
his palm. As he rubbed it, the life seemed to flow through that one point 
and stir his whole body, sending the blood racing to his pelvis and into his 
already clotted cock, swelling it even more. It jerked and throbbed and he 
knew that he had to get into her before he exploded and came right there as 
they wrestled together on the bed. 

Wrenching his mouth and tongue away from the death grip of their lips, Bill 
spun around so that he could take Marge's nipple in his mouth. He drew it in 
with a desperate sense of need. Feeling the olive-like knob in his mouth, 
Bill teased it with his tongue, lashing it back and forth across the hot bit 
of flesh that seemed to grow and expand in his mouth, filling it with 
delightful sensations, but increasing the need in his groin. 

As his tongue laved at the nipple, Bill felt Marge squirm and twist in his 
loose grip. Her hands were playing across his shoulders and back, feeling 
and pulling at the flesh that was knotted tight with his desire and effort. 
Her fingers stroked his flanks and hips and then one of them insinuated 
itself between their bodies as she sought the center of his pleasure, the 
turgid manhood that was brushing back and forth across her belly. Her hand 
brushed the head, lifting it so that her fingers could wrap themselves 
around the white column of jerking flesh. She pulled at the tight skin and 
Bill felt the sure surges of desire throb along the pillar of his cock as 
Marge moved her hand up and down along its length. Her forefinger brushed 
back and forth across the underside of the swollen head to bring Bill even 
more excruciating pleasure. Marge was breathing and pulling at his flesh as 
she rolled under him. 

Releasing his hand's grip on her puffy mound, Bill let his hand slide down 
her body until it brushed the tightly curled hair that covered her pussy. It 
felt slick to the touch. His middle finger pushed through the tight mass of 
pubic hair and into the groove of her sex. Her pussy lips parted easily 
before his probing finger and he felt another surge of passion as the tip of 
his finger encountered the wetness of her flowing juices. They were thick 
and slick to the touch. He felt along the entire length of her slot, seeking 
the knob of flesh that would be her clit, her epicenter of desire. Brushing 
over a hard knob, Bill found what he was seeking and cupped her pussy in the 
palm of his hand, rotating it so that it rubbed gently over the raised nub 
of sensitive tissue. 

"Oh, yes! That's it. It feels so good. Don't stop. Make it last. Make it 
good for me," she groaned as Bill continued to press his hand into her sex. 

As he rubbed, his finger sought her opening and found it open, emitting her 
juices to make his entry easy. He pushed his finger deep into her and she 
groaned again, louder. She increased her masturbation of his prick and 
thrust herself against him hard. 

Bill rolled with her thrashing body, never releasing his hand's grip on her 
pussy or his mouth's grip on her nipple. The blood was pounding against his 
temples as his desire mounted. His own juices were running wildly deep in 
his body and he felt the muscles of his belly knot and expand with the need 
to impale his staff in Marge's warm, wet pussy. 

Marge had her mouth buried against his shoulder and was mumbling 
incoherently as her body moved with a will of its own against his. Bill 
tried to understand the jumble of words and mutterings that Marge was 
blubbering against the skin of his shoulder, but it took him several moments 
before he was able to make any sense out of it. All the while, her hands 
were pulling at his cock, more and more desperately. She had his balls 
cupped in one hand while the other rubbed and twisted the skin of his cock. 

"In! Put it in! I want it in me!" she finally cried with enough clarity for 
Bill to comprehend what she had been trying so desperately to tell him as 
she thrashed across the sheets. 

Pushing and pulling, Bill was finally able to get Marge lying in the middle 
of the bed. Her long, tapered legs were thrown wide apart in wild abandon 
and her hips were undulating up and down in anticipation of the joining that 
was soon to come. Her large, full breasts were swollen, the nipples 
distended and puckered to their fullest. She was like a bitch in heat and 
Bill wondered about his own capabilities in satisfying such a wanton 
creature. 

Throwing his body on top of hers, his lips sought hers and they joined, 
mouths wide open, tongues seeking, finding, and stimulating. His hands 
worked at both her breasts, and his pelvis thrust against her lower belly, 
trying to find the entrance to her pussy. 

He felt Marge's wedge between their bodies and grip his cock. She pushed it 
until the head was at the entrance to her cunt. Her legs lifted, bending at 
the knees. Bill felt the head of his cock slide down her groove and then 
slip into her waiting hole. She was wide open and waiting. 

Gathering himself, Bill lunged forward hard. 

A wet, tingling pleasure tripped up his back as his cock sank into her full 
length. He filled her with his hot prick and felt the wetness of her channel 
as he sank it into her until his pubic hair ground into hers. His entire 
prick was pulsating with the telltale throbs of pre-orgasm. It was too soon 
so he rested with his length buried in her cunt. Bill let his entire body 
relax, fighting for control, forcing himself to think about anything else 
but the sensations that were pulsating hotly throughout his entire body in 
wave after wave of lulling heat. 

Pictures flashed before his eyes of tall elephant grass, of dark-skinned 
little men in fatigue green uniforms pushing through the grass, holding 
their light M16 rifles at the ready, their eyes darting from side to side. 
Bill tensed, waiting for the blast he knew would come. The orange flame 
erupted in his brain, like a brilliant ball of light, the shock wave hit him 
before the sound and he shook himself free of the vision before his eyes as 
the ground and the tall grass came up to meet him. He could hear the screams 
of the wounded, but they soon blended in the cries of passion that Marge was 
letting slip past her open lips and she writhed beneath him on the bed. 

Opening his eyes, Bill felt secure again, safe in his own home, high in the 
hills of Hollywood, and not in the boondocks of Vietnam. Life surged back 
through his body, pressed closely against a passionate woman. Now he was 
over it, back to reality, and ready to fuck this woman until he was 
exhausted, until he lay spent, all the living juices in his body deposited 
in Marge's sucking cunt. 

Lifting himself from the moving flesh beneath him, Bill rested most of his 
weight on his elbows, gathered his knees under him, and pulled his cock from 
the grasping channel of her cunt in a long, slow motion. With slow 
deliberateness, he pulled out his entire length until just the head was 
buried in the soft folds of flesh that gripped and pulled at his prick. 
Pausing for only a second, Bill flexed his hips and reinserted himself in 
Marge's cunt. A low soft moan greeted his forward thrust. 

Never breaking his steady, slow rhythm, Bill pushed in and out of Marge's 
cunt. Once, he looked down between their joined bodies and thrilled at the 
sight of his pink column of flesh jabbing itself into the rich black of her 
cunt hair. The stark contrast in their skins only stimulated him more and he 
increased the tempo of his thrusting prick, driving it harder and deeper 
into her body. 

"Oh, God, yes!" she cried in his ear. "Fuck me! Fuck me harder I'm coming!" 

His own climax was close and Bill picked up the stroke until he was wildly 
plunging into her, burying himself in her with such force that their pubic 
bones crunched together with a nearly audible sound. Hot sweat bathed both 
their bodies as they rubbed together in an unrestrained quest for the 
ultimate release. 

After a particularly hard stroke, Bill heard Marge's low, guttural moan and 
felt her legs as they wrapped themselves around his waist and her hips rose 
to meet his with a powerful surge that was equal to his own wild plunge. 

A pure animal sound broke from Marge's lips and rocketed around the room, 
borne on the mutual heat of their combined passion. Bill could feel the hot 
juices running deep in his body as he plunged in and out of Marge with 
ever-increasing force and power. His life's fluids were boiling as they 
passed through the tubes and ducts of his pelvic system and raced toward the 
long column of white flesh that was driving like a piston in the cylinder of 
Marge's cunt. 

Locking his elbows behind her raised knees, Bill pushed forward, bending her 
legs back until her knees were touching her shoulders. Marge wrapped her 
legs around his neck and crossed her ankles, locking her grip on his neck. 

Bill felt his prick plunging into her even deeper as the new position 
shortened her channel. Her cunt muscles squeezed at his cock as it drew from 
her and then relaxed as the full length of his flesh pole ripped deeply into 
her body once more. Her cunt was milking his prick with practiced skill and 
he mounted more quickly to his crest. Marge's wild cries had shortened and 
sharpened until they were little more than savage grunts of pleasure. Bill 
knew that she was in the throes of a wild multiple orgasm which would be far 
beyond the finish point of his own spending. A sort of hot pride welled up 
in his gut as he realized that he had brought her off, had blown her nuts 
for her so that she was little more than a quivering mass of feeling, 
responding flesh with the sum total of all sensation centered in her wildly 
contracting cunt. 

Exalting in his triumph, Bill plunged his prick into her with still greater 
force and felt his own orgasm approaching with ever-increasing speed. The 
head of his prick was raw and supersensitive, bloated with blood, and 
swelling with the first pulsation of shooting his load. It was coming and he 
was ready. It was coming and he was waiting, anxious for the moment when he 
come would spew out in great, thick gobs and bathe Marge's womb with 
life-giving essence. 

"Oh, fuck, I'm coming!" The words bounced off the walls of the room and back 
into Bill's ears. He didn't recognize his own voice and by the time the fact 
registered in his befuddled brain, the juices were racing down the length of 
his prick and were spewing with steady spurts deep inside Marge's body. His 
own cry was joined by her own as she became aware of what was happening. 

They ground their hips together as Bill poured his cream into her. Their 
closely pressed, sweat-soaked bodies made strange farting sounds as air was 
captured then forced out past tightly packed flesh. Bill was hardly aware of 
the sound as he concentrated on emptying himself, of draining every last bit 
of his fluid deep into Marge that was humanly possible. The little ducts and 
tubes inside his prick felt warm and good as they pumped the fluid along the 
length of his prick and sent it spurting out into the dark confines of 
Marge's cunt. 

Gradually, the spasms lessened and then stopped altogether. It wasn't until 
Bill felt his prick start to shrink and recede from the tight clutch of her 
pussy's channel that Bill let Marge's legs down and released his nearly 
death-lock grip on the cheeks of her ass. 

They collapsed like two wet dolls at each other's side, but Bill made sure 
that his now shriveled cock remained embedded as deeply as humanly possible 
in Marge's cunt. He could feel her pussy muscles still undulating with the 
afterglow of climax, milking the flesh pole that had given her the ultimate 
in pleasure and passion. 

With all the tension pumped from his body, Bill eased his head on the 
pillow, only vaguely aware of the warm wetness that surrounded his flaccid 
member in the moving sheath of Marge's cunt. His mind was drifting off into 
a dreamless sleep, a sleep of completion and exhaustion. Just before he went 
over the threshold of sleep, he registered the fact that he would have to be 
in Beverly Hills this evening with some idea of what he was going to tell 
Millicent Martin he wanted for a fee for finding her runaway niece, but that 
was a whole day away, and he was tired now and wanted to get some needed 
sleep. 

As he closed his eyes for the last time, Bill's arm snaked out and circled 
the brown figure lying next to him on the bed. Marge sighed at his touch and 
snuggled closer, pulling the blankets up over them and then nestled her head 
against Bill's shoulder with another contented sigh. 

Bill's hand stroked the tan flank with a lethargic sweep and then settled on 
the full mound of Marge's full, ripe breast. He squeezed the flesh and 
enjoyed the softness oozing between his fingers. He tweaked the nipple, and 
Marge stirred, pushed more of her tit into the palm of his hand, then 
settled down against his shoulder, her cunt muscles still squeezing gently 
on the cock buried in her body. Bill drifted into sleep with these erotic 
sensations flitting over his body. He felt good and he slept soundly. 

 CHAPTER FIVE 

The hot afternoon sun warmed Bill's back as he climbed from his white VW 
after parking it next to a cafe at the beginning of the Sunset Strip. The 
slanting rays of the sun cast sharp shadows along the street and against the 
building facing the famed boulevard. He'd gotten lucky with Millicent Martin 
yesterday, luckier this morning with Marge, and his luck was still holding 
when he returned to Acid George's to see if anyone at the crash pad knew 
Terri Martin. 

One of the chicks smoking a joint at Acid 

George's had told him that she had met Terri Martin a few times, but didn't 
know where she lived. Then she told him that every time she had met her, she 
had been in the little occult book shop on the east end of the Strip. 
Jackpot! 

All he had to do was wait around the book shop and move in when the chick 
showed up. If his luck was still holding, and he had an uncanny feeling that 
it was, he'd score today. He'd had lucky vibrations all day long and they 
were still with him. 

The book shop was located in one of those old relics that still dot 
Hollywood. In its heyday, it had probably been a fashionable apartment 
court. As he walked up the step, Bill recalled that a far more famous 
landmark, The Garden of Allah, had been located almost directly across the 
street, but had given way to the demands of progress and was now the site of 
a big modern bank and art gallery. 

Shaking his head, Bill pushed through the screen door and went into the 
shop. The smell hit him like a hammer. Incense candles, joss sticks, and 
other aromatic substances glowed and gave off their aroma from every corner 
of the room. Trying not to gag, Bill looked around, took a note of the 
several longhairs browsing through the store, and went to one of the 
bookcases standing against the walls. 

While he looked, the title of one book suddenly struck his eye and 
registered in his brain. It was on the voodoo arts, and a vivid picture of 
Marge flashed through his mind and held his attention. She was really a 
flipped-out chick. 

He had only left her about an hour or two ago, so his memory was still fresh 
and clear. He had awakened very slowly after a day-long sleep. He had been 
lying on his back, but his prick had felt like it was still wedged tightly 
in Marge's throbbing, wet pussy. As the fog cleared from his mental 
processes, he realized that Marge was giving him head; his prick was in her 
mouth and she was sucking gently on the flaccid meat. 

"This is for making it good, man. For making it real good," she had said as 
she knelt at his side, her head moving slowly up and down, her tongue 
twirling around the soft head of his cock. 

Bill had started to swell with slow, even jerks in her mouth. She had 
murmured with each throb that inflated his cock, making it longer and 
bigger. Bill had propped his head on the pillow, his hands behind his head, 
his fingers interlaced. He had stared in a lazy, half-awake fascination at 
the slowly moving head. Marge's wide lips were puckered tightly around the 
base of his cock and he had felt her tongue along its entire length. That 
had not lasted very long because the hardening of his cock had forced her 
lips to retreat until she could take little more than half without gagging. 

When he was fully erect, Marge had pulled her lips away from the hard column 
of white flesh and looked at Bill with her eyes questioning. "You got enough 
left to pop again this way?" she had asked. 

She had shaken her head after Bill had nodded in the affirmative and then 
her head had dropped back to the ramrod that she held upright in one black 
hand. She cupped his balls with her other hand, shaking her head. She had 
apparently made up her mind to satisfy her curiosity about a white man's 
prick because she spent about ten minutes looking at it closely and 
examining it from every angle. From time to time, during the course of her 
investigation, Marge would flick out her tongue to touch the tip to an area 
she thought might be more sensitive than others. When she had laved her wet 
tongue across the underside of his cock just back of the glans. Bill's cock 
had jerked violently. That was one spot that had turned him on every time. 

Marge had only looked up for a split second and then her tongue had flicked 
out again, its tip hitting the same spot with the same reaction. She had 
pressed the red and swollen head of his prick to her lips and let it slide 
slowly into her mouth, allowing her white teeth to barely scrape the tender, 
inflamed skin. Allowing only the glans to pass into her warm, damp chamber, 
Marge had bitten down softly with her teeth. Bill's prick had throbbed 
strongly a third time. Satisfied she had found the most sensitive spot, 
Marge had started her head bobbing up and down, making sure her tongue 
pressed hard against the spot each time she pulled her lips up the shaft of 
his meat. 

It had been slow and easy, contrasting sharply with the almost animalistic 
frenzy with which they had made love earlier in the day. Bill had figured 
that it was something Marge had wanted to do without his reciprocating in 
any way, so he had lain back on the pillow and thoroughly enjoyed the 
experience. But he had been pleasantly surprised, because Marge had given 
him something which he had never had before a hum job. Anyway, that's what 
she had called it after he had asked her what in the hell she had done to 
him that had nearly blown his mind. 

She had given it to him just as he was approaching his climax. When Bill had 
started to thrust his hips upwards, forcing his prick deep into her mouth, 
Marge had started to hum deep in her throat. The resulting vibrations had 
been transferred from her throat to the roof of her mouth and tongue and had 
created a wet, tingling sensation along the entire length of his dick, but 
when she applied this technique to that one very tender and sensitive spot 
just behind the glans of his prick, Bill had exploded in a gigantic orgasm 
that even he had not thought he was capable of at that juncture. A hum job. 
What a mind blower, Bill thought as he reflected in front of the bookcase, 
his eyes looking at, but not really seeing, the book on voodoo on the shelf 
in front of him. 

"Excuse me, please," a soft voice said next to his ear and he bolted upright 
in surprise, the fleeting images of Marge and her talents whisked away in a 
flash as he was brought back to reality. 

Instinctively moving to the side. Bill turned his head toward the sound that 
had brought him back from his reverie. He was looking straight into the 
frankly staring eyes of Terri Martin. His luck was still good. 

"Excuse me. My mind was a thousand miles away," he opened, hoping to get a 
little friendly and sympathetic response. 

"That's okay, I figured you were tripping out a little and I didn't want to 
ass your trip, so I waited as long as I could," she said with a little 
smile. 

Apparently she hadn't recognized him yet, or had already forgotten about the 
party and the people at Acid George's pad and the wildly erotic dance she 
had performed. He'd have to play it by ear and see if it were wiser to 
remain silent about the party, or to lay it on her straight. As Bill mulled 
over the different alternatives in his mind, Terri Martin had leaned over 
and picked up a book on astrology from one of the lower shelves. 

Still thinking about the half-nude dance, Bill looked at her breasts as she 
leaned over. They were swinging free of any restriction beneath the loosely 
knit sweater. Her bell-bottom blue jeans fitted her rounded hips perfectly, 
stretched so tight that it was obvious that she wasn't wearing any panties. 
Flat-nosed boots stuck out from under the cuffs of her jeans. 

Outa sight, Bill said to himself. He looked away quickly as Terri Martin 
stood up and started thumbing through the book she had selected. He'd have 
to come up with some angle to find out where she lived make a date would be 
the easiest. 

"What sign are you?" he asked casually, nodding his head at the book Terri 
Martin held in her hands. 

"Pisces.'-' 

"Hey, that's far out. I'm a Cancer. We're a perfect match," Bill said with a 
smile, hoping that she would pick up on the conversation and carry part of 
the load so that he wouldn't look like he was pushing it. 

"Well, it's not all that simple, but it's a good start," she said. "There 
are a lot of other factors that enter into it, and having compatible signs 
is one of the essentials, but doesn't mean that we're a perfect match." 

Bill looked at her. His eyes locked with hers and held them. "I can dig it." 

"I really don't know that much about it, that's why I'm looking at this 
book," she said and turned away. 

Shit, Bill thought, he didn't want the conversation to end just like that. 
He'd have to keep it going. "How about going across the street and having 
some coffee in the open-air restaurant after we're finished here?" 

Terri Martin turned back to him, and Bill breathed a little easier. "Okay," 
she said simply. 

Bill looked around quickly, trying to find something to buy so that he would 
have a reason for leaving. He spotted the decks of Tarot cards piled in a 
showcase. He'd wanted a deck anyway, so now was as good a time as any to get 
them. Maybe she was interested in that too. 

He left her standing in front of the bookcase and walked to the 
glass-covered display case. After a cursory examination, he made his 
selection, added a Tarot book to his purchases, and paid the bearded clerk 
who looked like he was stoned. 

Walking back to the bookcase, Bill thumbed through the newly purchased book 
so that Terri Martin could see it. 

"Do you read the cards?" she asked as Bill walked up beside her. 

"No, but I'm going to try and learn. I'm almost convinced that there's 
something to them, but I want to find out for myself," he said. 

"Yeah, they're weird," Terri replied with a little more interest. 

"You ready to go get that cup of coffee?" he asked, hoping to use her 
interest in the Tarot as a springboard to an extended conversation and a 
date. 

"Oh, yeah ... well, like look, man, I would really dig the coffee and going 
into the Tarot thing with you, but I've really got to split. I forgot that 
I've got to be somewhere else in a little while and can't take the time 
right now. I hope it's cool with you because I really did want to rap with 
you over coffee," she said in rush of words. 

"Yeah, it's cool," Bill said, trying to hide the disappointment in his 
voice. "Maybe I'll see you again at Acid George's. We could rap then," he 
added, playing his last card, a real long shot. 

"Oh yeah! That's where it was. I thought I remembered you from someplace, 
but I just couldn't pin it down. You're the cat who held my sweater, then 
later split with the stoned chick. Man, I was really jamming that night." 

"You going to be there tonight?" Bill asked casually, covering the hope that 
he felt. 

"No, but I'll probably be there tomorrow night," she told him as she leaned 
over to replace the astrology book on the shelf. 

"That's cool. I'll see you then," Bill said, tucking the book under his arm 
and turning toward the door. "Peace." 

"Yeah, peace, man." 

Down-shifting his bug from fourth to third gear, Bill started the long, slow 
climb up Beverly Glen to keep his appointment with Millicent Martin. He had 
good news for her and felt secure that she would keep her end of the 
bargain. All that bread would let him do his own thing without making any 
compromises with the Establishment. 

After making the turn at the small park a couple of blocks above Sunset, 
Bill started looking for the small side street that would take him to where 
Millicent was staying. It was about halfway up the canyon, and he turned 
onto the narrow, winding street, watching the curbs for numbers. The little 
engine of his bug whined steadily as he climbed higher into the hills past 
homes that displayed a wide variety of architectural styles. 

Spotting the number he was looking for, Bill turned the little car into the 
short driveway and pulled to a stop in front of the California-style 
ranch-house. New money, he thought as he climbed from the front seat of the 
VW and walked across the wide covered porch to the impressive double-doored 
entrance. He pressed the black button set in the brass plate at the side of 
the doorway. 

"Yes?" The voice came from above her head and, looking up, he saw the metal 
grill of the intercom speaker. 

"Bill Sherman," he said, stepping back. 

"Oh, yes. Just a moment, please," the metallic voice said and then clicked 
off. 

It was more than a moment, in fact, it was several before Bill heard the 
tumblers click in the lock on the door and it swung open. 

"Won't you come in?" she said. "Millicent is out by the pool." 

Stepping through the door, Bill turned to look at the tall, thin blonde as 
she closed the door. She was wearing a short, terry cloth robe that stopped 
just below her narrow hips. Her hair hung loosely around her shoulders and 
was slightly tangled. Her legs were thin, but nicely shaped, which gave her 
a tall, elegant look despite the fact that her face was a blotchy pink. Bill 
wondered about that, but as he turned it over in his mind, the door clicked 
shut and the woman turned to him, pulling her robe a little tighter around 
her body. 

"I'm Gloria Davis," she said, looking Bill directly in the eye. "A friend of 
Millicent's." 

"How do you do?" Bill said in his best over-thirty manner as he pulled at 
the end of his paisley scarf. Something flickered across her pale blue eyes 
and she turned on the ball of her bare foot and strode away. 

"If you'll follow me, Millicent's by the pool." 

Matching her stride for stride, Bill marched through the house and through a 
set of sliding glass doors onto a wide veranda surrounded by flickering 
flames from black Tiki torches. The reflections of the dancing flames 
shimmered on the clear blue water of the large oval pool. 

"Mr. Sherman's here, Millicent," Gloria Davis said in the direction of two 
large padded mats lying next to the edge of the pool. 

Millicent Martin rolled over on her side and looked up. She glanced at 
Gloria for a split second and then her head turned to Bill. She was clad in 
a skimpy bikini which barely covered the full ripeness of her lush body. In 
the faint light of the dying day and by the flaming torches, Bill could see 
that the bikini was tied very loosely, as if it had been put on in a hurry. 
As he moved closer, Bill could see that Millicent also had pink blotches 
around her lips and cheeks. Jesus Christ, he thought, she swings both ways. 
Far out! 

"Good to see you, Bill, we didn't think you would be this early. We were 
about to go for a swim before dinner. Care to join us?" 

"Millicent," Gloria said in a hushed voice, but broke off before she said 
anymore. 

"Bill and I don't have any secrets from one another, do we, Bill?" she 
asked. 

"None at all," he answered, waiting to see what the next move would be. 

"But, tonight, Millicent, after all," Gloria protested in a low voice. 

"You mustn't be possessive, Gloria," Millicent said sharply, and the blonde 
woman hung her head in resignation. "Well, Bill, how 'bout that swim? Are 
you game?" 

"Sure, but what do I wear, or is this a skinny-dippin' party?" he asked 
frankly. 

"Suit yourself, but Gloria and I like to have as much freedom as possible," 
she said significantly. 

"That's cool with me," he remarked, "but aren't you forgetting why I'm 
here?" 

"So soon! That's very quick, but then you are an extremely fast worker, 
aren't you?" she said with a slightly malicious smile on her face. 

Bill was tired of playing games with Millicent so he laid it right on the 
line. "I saw Terri this afternoon. I'll probably see her again tomorrow 
night and can make delivery either then or the next morning. When can you 
have twenty-five thousand dollars ready?" 

"Twenty-five thousand dollars!" she sputtered as she sat bolt upright on the 
padded mat. 

"That's the deal," he answered flatly. 

"But I thought that we would sort of be partners. If I can get control of 
the estate when we have the hearing, there will be lots of work to do, 
investments to make, and things like that. I thought that was what you were 
looking for, what you wanted." 

"That might be what you thought, but that's not what I want. I'm going to do 
my own thing and I don't want to be tied down to an office or anything else. 
So it's cash on the barrelhead, or I don't play, and I don't deliver," he 
declared in a cold, hard voice. 

"I won't have that kind of money until after the hearing," she admitted. 

"I can wait. Is it a deal?" 

"You're holding the high hand," she agreed. 

"Good. Am I still invited for a swim?" he asked. 

"Of course." 

"Millicent, I thought this was just a business meeting," Gloria protested 
once more. 

"Relax, this will be good for you. Besides, you know how I get when you 
insist on arguing with me, Gloria," Millicent said with a harsh edge in her 
voice. It softened only slightly when she turned her head to Bill. "In case 
you already haven't guessed it, Gloria here doesn't think much of males." 

"The thought had crossed my mind," Bill told her, looking in Gloria's 
direction. 

"Please, Millicent, must you go into all of that?" Gloria interjected. 

"Oh, shut up, for Christ's sake. You literally sold that body of yours to 
fat old Charlie, just so you could divorce him and have a big fat alimony 
check every month, this house, a imagine car, and all the women you could 
find," Millicent hissed, "so looking at a man's prick isn't anything new to 
you. Besides, I'll take good care of you later. As a mater of fact, we might 
even have Bill here join in the fun, just for variety's sake, and he's the 
only man who has really been able to stimulate me. He's a mean bastard, 
though, aren't you, Bill?" she added as she got to her feet. 

Holy Christ, Bill thought, what a bunch of fucking kooks! Looking around, he 
spotted a nearby lawn chair and walked to it, pulling off his scarf and 
unbuttoning his blue body shirt. As he shrugged out of the shirt and draped 
it across the back of the chair, he saw that Gloria Davis was standing close 
to Millicent with her back to him, taking earnestly. Millicent was working 
at the strings that held her skimpy bikini bra in place over her ripe 
breasts and shaking her head at whatever Gloria was saying. 

Sitting on the chair, Bill unzipped his flat-nosed boots and pulled them 
from his feet. He took off his socks and stuffed them in the neatly lined-up 
boots in front of the chair. Standing up, he unbuckled his wide leather belt 
with the hand-worked brass buckle and pulled the zipper on his bell-bottomed 
pants. 

Gloria had apparently lost the argument and whirled around on the ball of 
her foot, but she stopped short when she saw Bill pulling down his tightly 
fitted pants and stepping out of them. She stood frozen, with her back to 
him, and watched as Millicent tossed aside the brief halter and undid the 
bows at her hips, letting the bottom part of her bikini fall to the padded 
mat. She stood there looking straight at Gloria, her body swaying slightly. 
Bill felt the stirrings start in low in his groin as he watched the scene 
unfold before him. As he pulled down his jockey shorts and tossed them on 
the chair, Gloria stuffed her hands in the pockets of her robe and shook her 
head, sending her blonde hair flying from side to side. Millicent laughed, 
turned, and walked toward the pool's edge. 

Giving his prick a shake, Bill walked past Gloria, who turned her face away 
as he passed, and went toward Millicent. As he approached her turned back, 
she spun around, a little smile flickering on her face. 

"Not again. I'm still sore back there from last night, but Gloria's got a 
virgin ass-hole and since you like that sort of thing, why don't you give 
her a try? Use your caveman routine and you shouldn't have any trouble," she 
said, sarcasm dripping from every word. 

"I thought she didn't dig men," Bill replied flatly. 

"She doesn't, but that doesn't mean that you couldn't take her if you wanted 
her. Besides, I'd like to see her get royally fucked. How 'bout it? You 
game?" she asked. 

There it was again; Millicent Martin trying to run the whole show, trying to 
have everything her way without a thought to what the feelings of anyone 
else were. Bill felt the resentment turn his stomach, giving him a bitter 
taste in his mouth. He'd shown her last night that he wouldn't go along with 
that shit, so he'd have to show her again that he wasn't going to be pushed 
around. If he didn't assert his dominance, then the whole deal was in 
trouble, and he was too close to having everything he wanted to risk that. A 
twinge of guilt rippled through his brain cells as he realized that it was 
going to be something similar if not just the same as it had been with 
Millicent Martin. In this case, he was using Terri Martin to get what he 
wanted without thinking about her feelings at all. He rejected the thought. 

"Fuck it," he said in a low voice, "I'm not a rapist." He gave her a hard, 
steel-eyed look to back up his words. 

"Really! I'd never have guessed," Millicent remarked with a little 
bitterness. "At least get her in the water." 

"If I do, you had better finish off what you started before I interrupted. I 
can always get into the act later," Bill said with a tone of authority that 
made his words a command and not a suggestion. 

"In front of you?" her face fell as she spoke. "In front of me," he hissed. 

"All right, if that's the way you want it," she relented, bowing her head as 
she spoke. 

"That's the way, the only way I'm playing the game," he said as he gave her 
a shove, toppling her into the pool. 

Millicent came up spurting and laughing all at the same time. Bill watched 
her as she treaded water for a moment and then lay on her back, spreading 
her full thighs invitingly. The pool's underwater light was turned on so 
there was plenty of light to see her and to appreciate the succulent 
richness of her figure. Bill had half a mind to chuck Gloria and dive in 
after Millicent, but he controlled the impulse and turned his back on her as 
she floated in the center of the pool. 

When he turned, he saw Gloria standing a few feet away, her eyes wide in 
wonder. Apparently Millicent dominated her and those around her so much that 
this was the first time that she had ever seen someone actually do something 
that Millicent opposed. 

"You're next," Bill said, taking a step toward her. 

"No! I don't want to," she protested in a whining voice. 

As Bill moved forward, she spun around and attempted to run. He had her in 
two steps, grabbing the back of the terry cloth robe and yanking her to a 
halt. The violence of his grip had yanked the robe nearly half off and 
exposed both Gloria's breasts. They were small but well shaped and held high 
on her rib cage. Every one of her ribs showed under her skin, but her belly 
was as flat and smooth as a river stone. 

As Bill picked her up in his strong arms and carried her toward the side of 
the pool, she tried desperately to pull the sides of the robe together to 
cover her nakedness. Bill chuckled to himself. He must have caught them with 
the meat in their mouths when he had rung the doorbell, and Gloria must have 
just pulled on her robe, not taking the time to put on anything else, What a 
couple of kooks, he mused as he paused at the edge of the pool, the 
struggling girl still held tightly in his arms. He was trying to decide 
whether to throw her in with her robe on, or take it off her and then toss 
her in. He decided on the latter course. No use in getting her robe wet. 

Setting her down, Bill gripped the sides of her robe and started to pull it 
down her arms. 

"No! Please don't do that. I don't want you to see me," she pleaded, bending 
over to try and protect herself and to cover as much of her body as 
possible. 

Spinning her around, Bill yanked her arms back and pulled hard at the 
clinging robe. It peeled off her arms reluctantly, and Bill wadded it up in 
a ball and tossed it on the nearby mats, Gloria was still crouched over, her 
arms wrapped tightly around her naked body. Bill put his foot in the middle 
of her narrow butt and pushed, sending her headfirst into the clear, 
brightly lit water. She landed with a foot-kicking splat a few feet away 
from where Millicent was floating in the water, watching the entire episode. 
Gloria came up spitting water and trying to get her long blonde hair out of 
her eyes. She dipped her head into the water and then tossed her head back, 
sending a wide arc of water and hair back over her shoulders. 

A wild exuberance overtook Bill as he watched the two nude figures standing 
up to their necks in the water. His mind recorded the fact that Gloria must 
be a natural blonde since he couldn't see any dark pubic hair covering her 
lower belly. 

"Come on in, Tarzan," Millicent called from the middle of the pool as she 
sent a shower of water toward him. 

Ducking his head, Bill dived, hitting the water flat so that he wouldn't go 
too deep and scrape himself on the bottom of the pool. He broke the surface 
between the two women. 

Gloria was starting to swim toward the side of the pool with long, clean 
strokes. Bill grabbed Millicent and pushed her after the swimming girl. "Go 
on. Do your thing," he growled. 

Millicent lunged after the swimming Gloria and managed to catch an ankle 
just as the girl was trying to pull herself onto the edge of the pool. They 
struggled for a moment, but Millicent proved to be the stronger, and she 
pulled the girl back into the water. Bill was standing with the water up to 
his chest so he could see what was happening under the water as well as what 
was happening on top of the water. From where Bill stood, the underwater 
scene was much more interesting. 

Millicent had pinned Gloria against the side of the pool and had thrust her 
full thighs between the blonde girl's two thin ones. The top portion of her 
thigh was rubbing back and forth across Gloria's pubic area, while Millicent 
gripped Gloria's two small, well-shaped tits in each hand, squeezing and 
kneading the flesh, her fingers digging into the white skin. 

"No! Please don't. Not while he's here watching. I don't want it that way," 
Gloria protested as she tossed her head violently from side to side, sending 
her long wet hair flying back and forth, water spraying from it in all 
directions. 

Millicent silenced the blonde's protest by crushing her lips to Gloria's. 
Bill saw the girl's head pull back as she attempted to break away, but 
Millicent had her pinned so she couldn't move. Gloria's struggles continued 
for a moment, then started to lessen, and after what seemed to Bill to be 
about a minute they ceased altogether. Under the water, her hips started a 
slow, almost motionless gyration forward and back, and she rubbed her crotch 
tightly against Millicent's leg. Gloria's arm encircled Millicent's 
shoulders, pulling her closer. 

Watching the two girls had stimulated Bill more than he thought possible. He 
looked down at his own body, covered by the clear water, and saw that his 
cock was standing out stiff and strong, a fleshy, pink torpedo. He bounded 
on the balls of his feet, letting the warm water caress his skin and relax 
his muscles. In moments he felt his entire body relaxing, except for his 
prick which still maintained its one-eyed vigil of the underwater scene. 

When he turned his attention back to the girls, Bill saw Millicent lifting 
Gloria out of the pool so that her butt just rested on the edge. She pushed 
the blonde onto her back and threw a long, slim leg over each shoulder. As 
Millicent spread Gloria's legs, Bill finally realized that Gloria's crotch 
was shaved as bare as a billiard ball. The smooth skin of her pubis sparkled 
as the light from the flaming torches flickered over the droplets of water 
that ran down her body and into the groove of her crotch. Kinky, Bill 
thought, real kinky. 

Bill noticed that the two girls had moved down the length of the pool 
slightly so that when Millicent stood upright in the water her mouth was on 
the same level with Gloria's crotch. Moving even with the pair, Bill noted 
that the water hit him just below the chest. He moved forward to get a 
better look at the action at the side of the pool. 

Millicent was nibbling and gently biting her way up one of Gloria's thighs, 
her lips and teeth leaving little red marks on the smooth white skin. 
Millicent had a cheek of Gloria's butt in each hand and was lifting her off 
the tile in order to better reach those places her mouth was attempting to 
stimulate. As her mouth came closer to the center of Gloria's womanhood, 
Millicent slid her thumbs up the crack of Gloria's ass until she had them 
placed evenly on either side of her pussy lips. 

With a twisting of her wrists, she parted the tightly sealed lips and opened 
Gloria's cunt for the attack by her mouth, teeth, and tongue. Opening her 
lips wide, Millicent darted her head forward and engulfed Gloria's pussy 
with her mouth. Gloria's legs spasmed and fluttered as they draped across 
Millicent's shoulders, and then she locked her ankles together so she could 
pull the black-haired girl closer to her body. Her heels beat a tattoo in 
the middle of Millicent's back, and Bill figured that she was getting her 
jollies. It was time for his fun. The water had relaxed him, but the sight 
of the two contrasting nude figures of the women had made him horny. Moving 
toward Millicent, he looked at her thick black hair as it fell wetly about 
her shoulders and saw the water running in little rivulets down her smooth 
back. As he looked the situation over, he realized that he would have to 
take her from behind. He wasn't sure how she was going to react to that 
since she had told him that she was still sore from the night before. 

Fuck it, Bill thought, and dove under the water. He could see clear enough 
to make out Millicent's outstretched legs, bouncing up and down the balls of 
her feet as she sought to get closer to .Gloria's body. Bill stroked and 
glided through the water with ease. His outstretched hand touched the side 
of the pool and he surfaced next to the entwined girls. 

Millicent wasn't aware of his arrival since her view to the side was blocked 
by one of Gloria's slim thighs, and Gloria was on a trip of her own and had 
probably forgotten all about him already. 

Moving behind Millicent, Bill let his arms encircle her waist and, staying 
out of the way of Gloria's flailing feet, cupped one of Millicent's rich, 
full breasts in each hand. They felt lighter under water, but they were 
still firm and heavy. 

Bill felt Millicent's body stiffen as his prick brushed against the cheeks 
of her ass. Backing away, he continued to squeeze and knead the flesh of her 
tits, tweaking the nipples from time to time with his thumb and forefinger, 
Releasing his grip on one tit, Bill let his hand slide down through the 
water along her belly until his fingers entangled themselves in the floating 
hairs that covered her puffy pussy. His middle finger sought the slot that 
he knew was under the black foliage. Finding it, he opened her up like a 
clam. Bill kicked her legs further apart with his feet and dropped down in 
the water so that he could bring his hot prick to her opening. He found her 
hole with his middle finger and felt the slickness in spite of the watery 
surroundings. 

Arching his hips forward, Bill pushed his cock between her legs and used his 
hand to stuff the head into her ready and waiting hole. It slipped in easier 
than he thought it would under water, and he grabbed her hips in both hands. 
Millicent had resisted for a moment when he had tried to get her legs spread 
apart and Bill figured that she probably thought that he was going to go up 
the back way again. But, when the head of his cock slipped into her oiled 
hole, she spread her legs willingly and helped him as much as she could 
while not leaving Gloria for a second. 

Pushing his hips up, Bill felt himself slide into her, the tight channel 
gripping him as his prick moved into her grotto, pushing tissue aside as it 
drove into her depths. Bill heard Millicent moan deep in her throat as he 
filled her with his thick staff. 

Gloria's legs were a problem, because they were in his way. Looking over the 
situation, Bill resolved that problem by lifting her legs over his shoulders 
as well. She made the adjustment, apparently too engrossed in the delights 
that Millicent was giving her cunt to mind in what position her legs were 
placed. With her legs over his shoulders as well as Millicent's, Bill could 
now move directly behind the black-haired girl and stroke into her without 
being obstructed or hit by a stray foot. 

Bouncing up and down in the water, Bill slid the full length of his cock 
into and out of Millicent's resilient and eager cunt. Each time he slammed 
into her butt with his pelvis, she grunted with pleasure. Despite this, her 
mouth never left Gloria's bare cunt, her tongue lapping up and down the 
groove, then twirling about the raised clit button that Bill could clearly 
see over Millicent's shoulder. 

Gloria was tossing back and forth at the edge of the pool, her cries were 
soft, low moans. Her hands alternately gripped her own breasts and then the 
top of Millicent's wet head. Her belly was heaving up and down at a quick 
rate, and Bill sensed that she was in the throes of a giant multiple orgasm 
that was shaking her entire body to the core. 

Hugging Millicent's wet back, Bill wrapped his arms around her supple body 
and gripped a tit in one hand while his other sought the knob of her clit 
that was somewhere near that point where his prick was relentlessly moving 
in and out of her cunt like a piston. His fingers gripped and pulled at the 
lips of her cunt until they encountered the hard nub that rose from between 
the lips of her twat. Millicent jerked with a sudden start as his fingers 
sought to capture the elusive piece of tender flesh that was slick and wet 
with her pouring juices and the water surrounding it in the pool. Flicking 
his finger back and forth across the clit, Bill pulled and twisted the 
nipple that he grasped tightly in his other hand. Millicent started a low 
guttural moan that began deep in her throat and worked its way out until it 
was nearly a scream, muffled only by the closeness of her mouth to Gloria's 
spasming cunt. 

Both women were now in the throes of orgasm. Bill pumped harder into 
Millicent's pussy, jerking his hips with all the force he could muster, the 
power of Bill's thrusting strokes aided by the buoyancy of the water lifted 
Millicent off her feet with every jabbing lunge. She was forced to grip 
Gloria's legs even harder in order to stay glued to the wet cunt she was so 
tenderly licking. 

Gloria's moans were getting louder and the high thrashing at the side of the 
pool was getting wilder as Millicent continued to apply the tip of her 
practiced tongue to the most sensitive parts of Gloria's pussy. Bill looked 
up to see her arch herself off the deck, using her hands to hold up the 
cheeks of her ass off the tiled surface. 

Her legs were spread as wide as possible and were jerking wildly in the air. 
With a shuddering cry, she collapsed on the deck, her hands feebly pushing 
Millicent's head and mouth away from her crotch. Her rib cage rose and fell 
rapidly with the effort of her breathing, and Bill could see the clear drops 
of perspiration that dripped down her face and onto the decking. 

Free of her lingual burden, Millicent turned her full attention to her own 
enjoyment. She bucked back against Bill, thrusting her ass into his groin. 
He was so drained from his previous efforts that he had been unconscious of 
urgent desire. He had merely been enjoying the sensual pleasure of having 
his prick deeply embedded in a woman's cunt, but was not overly anxious to 
come. The water was a relaxing novelty which he was enjoying to the fullest. 

Millicent, on the other hand, was a seething mass of hyper-tensed flesh, 
eagerly seeking orgasm after orgasm. Her hands gripped the edge of the pool 
as she shoved herself harder and harder against the fleshy rod that Bill was 
steadily pumping into her cunt. 

"Let me turn around," she half gasped. 

Bill pulled his cock out of her sheath and released his grip on her tit and 
clit. Millicent lunged at him like a tigress, wrapping her arms around his 
neck and raising her body so that she could wrap her full thighs around his 
narrow waist. Bill gripped the cheeks of her ass in each hand, and Millicent 
let go of his neck with one hand long enough to grab his cock and place it 
against the entrance to her cunt. After the head was securely in her hole, 
she raised up slightly and then dropped her full weight on it, impaling 
herself on,his staff. 

With the added buoyancy of the water, Bill could lift Millicent easily and 
he pulled her up and down his cock with increasing vigor. She was mumbling 
incoherently, with her lips pressed against his neck, her teeth biting at 
his flesh from time to time as the pleasure that was in her cunt became more 
intense. 

Her pussy muscles were gripping his staff hard, milking it and drawing up 
the fluids from deep within his body. He felt them stir and was surprised 
that he had anything left to give after being drained so completely earlier 
in the day by Marge's cunt, and later her sucking, humming mouth. 

Feeling the added swelling along the full length of his staff, Bill jammed 
himself harder into Millicent's tightly clamped hole. He could feel the head 
of his cock start to bloat with added blood, and the cheeks of his ass were 
starting their rhythmic throbbing that he knew always preceded his orgasms. 
Then it came, roaring from his depths, pushing upward and finally out of his 
body, through his throbbing prick, to be spit out the slitted end of his 
cock and into Millicent's womb. 

Bill grunted and pulled her more tightly to him, stopping his up and down 
lifting of her body in the water. He jammed her body down hard on his cock 
as the spurts started, and held her there until he was finished and his 
prick was rapidly shrinking within her twat. 

Releasing her tight grip from around her shoulders, and unlocking her jaw 
where she had clamped it into his shoulder, Millicent swam away from him on 
her back as Bill stood in the middle of the pool and watched. She pulled 
herself out of the water, shook herself like an animal, and hurried to 
Gloria's side. 

Bill watched as the blonde woman opened her eyes to look up at the dripping 
figure of Millicent standing over her, legs spread wide, hair tangled and 
running in loose strings down the front of her face. Her breasts were 
heaving with the strain of her heavy breathing, their bulging white surfaces 
streaked with red where Bill's fingers had dug into the tender flesh. 

"Do me," she gasped, and threw her legs across the startled figure of the 
blonde. 

Bill waded to the shallow end of the pool as Millicent squatted on her 
haunches so that her cunt, still dripping from his discharge, was directly 
over Gloria's face. He was climbing tiredly up the steps of the pool when he 
heard Gloria's protests. 

"No! Please! Not just after he has had you. I don't want to taste him, just 
you," she whined. 

"Do me," Millicent now croaked, her voice cracking. 

Watching as he dried himself leisurely with a big towel he had found on one 
of the mats, Bill saw Millicent entwine her fingers in Gloria's long blonde 
hair and savagely pull the slim girl's face into her gaping crotch. The girl 
twisted her head from side to side in an effort to get away, but Millicent 
had a firm grip on her hair and was not letting go. She dropped to her 
knees, shoved her wet pussy onto the struggling girl's mouth, stifling a 
scream of protest from the lips of the willowy blonde. 

Bill heard the telltale slurping sounds coming from the edge of the pool as 
he walked through the sliding glass doors, pulling his scarf around his 
neck. He closed the big double doors quietly as he left the house and 
climbed into his small car. What a trip, he thought as he turned the key to 
start the engine. 

 CHAPTER SIX 

Water swirled around him in varying shades of phosphorescent colors, it 
swept him along in its soft current, warm and liquid. He struggled to swim 
against it, but he was always being taken down a wide river, spun around in 
little eddies of blues, pinks, and lavenders. At times he was on top of the 
water, sometimes under it. He fought to stay on the top of the gently moving 
liquid that had him in its grip, but each time he surfaced he was drawn 
under again. 

The wide river turned into a small lake, and then for no good reason that,he 
could fathom, into a deep pool. The water was crystal clear and he could 
seem himself floating under the surface. He tried to reason why he could see 
himself, but could not. He swam, kicking his feet hard, trying to move to 
the edge of the deep pool, which he couldn't really see, but knew was close 
at hand. He could move. Turning over, he tried floating on his back, but was 
suddenly swept away into a rapid cascade of rushing fluid. He could hear 
voices, women's voices, humming, beckoning him to follow them like the 
legendary sirens of Homer. The voices melding into one, soft and alluring. 
As he rushed along, he could hear the roar of water falling. A waterfall! He 
was going to be swept over a waterfall and crushed on the rocks below. He 
didn't know why he knew this, but he did. He fought the steady pulling 
current as hard as he could, he tried to kick, but his feet wouldn't move. 
He flailed his arms, straining every muscle in his body, but he was still 
being pulled ever closer to the sound of falling water and his death. 

He was getting closer, and he could fight. The soft, feminine voice was 
calling for him, luring him, pulling him toward the rushing sound of the 
waterfall. He looked around wildly for something to grasp, for something he 
could hold onto so he could save himself, but there was nothing but the 
churning water. 

The water was a splashing roar, and he knew that he was at the edge. He 
lunged back with all his strength, but was pulled over the edge, the water 
carrying him down, ever down. He opened his mouth to scream, but the scream 
didn't come, there was only the sound of the falling water and the sound of 
the singing siren. His body hit. The sounds of the rushing water and the 
singing stopped. He thought he was dead. His neck felt funny. It must be 
broken. He opened his eyes to look at his broken body. 

Sunlight highlighted the beamed ceiling of his own bedroom. He blinked. 
Blinked again, and the sunlight or the beams of the ceiling didn't go away. 
He carefully moved his eyes from side to side. The walls, the chest, 
curtained windows, all the familiar things of his room where there before 
him, as they had always been. Reason replaced fantasy in his clouded and 
befuddled brain. He'd had a nightmare. A real whopper. 

Bill looked around again. He was lying half in and half out of his own bed. 
The sheets and blanket were wrapped tightly around his legs, making them 
immobile. He could hear the shower running, and someone humming loudly in 
the bathroom. Just as these sounds registered in his head, the humming and 
the sound of falling water from the shower stopped. The shower door clicked 
open and slammed shut. 

What the fucking hell is going on, he thought, getting to his feet after 
untangling himself from the sheets and blanket. He stood up beside the bed, 
naked. 

Marge's dusky figure padded through the bedroom door, a towel in her hands, 
her tremendous melon-like breasts swaying and bouncing as she walked into 
the room, drying the tiny rivulets of water that sparkled and glistened in 
the sunlight. She stopped when she saw him standing by the bed, the sheets 
and blanket twisted and rumpled at his feet. 

"Man, you sure do tear hell out of a bed. I just changed it yesterday after 
you left," she said in mock anger. 

"Never mind that, goddamn it. What the hell are you doing here, anyway?" 
Bill asked. 

"I came back for seconds on that big white stick of yours. I liked it," she 
giggled. 

"But I've got things to do. What the hell time is it, anyway?" he asked her 
in an exasperated voice. 

" 'Bout noon," she replied. "How the hell did you get in here?" he asked 
next. 

"I've got a key, remember?" she chided. 

"Oh, yeah, I remember," he answered, remembering all too well their pure 
animal-like coupling of the day before and the exquisite delights that she 
had introduced him to. A hum job. Christ, what a mind blower! 

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Bill held his head in his hands. He rubbed 
his eyes and then his temples. When he looked up, Marge was standing in 
front of him in all her naked glory. The sunlight steaming in through the 
windows made her coffee-colored skin glow with richness, accenting the 
rounding curves of her body, the bulging swell of her magnificently 
proportioned breasts, with their nearly black tips, puckered slightly now 
from the stimulation they had received from the rough nap of the big towel. 
His eyes stared at the deep dimple of her navel set in the middle of her 
flat belly just above the triangle of wiry curls that covered her pussy 
lips. 

Sinking to her knees in front of him, Marge took Bill's face in her hands. 
"What's the matter, didn't you like what I did for you yesterday?" 

"Sure, I liked it fine. Never had anything like it before in my whole life, 
but I just woke up from a rotten dream and I'm trying to get my head 
straight," he answered her honestly. 

Her hands slid down his face, over his shoulders, and came to rest with her 
palms flat against his chest. Pushing him back gently but firmly, Marge told 
him softly, "You just do that, and I'll try to help you." 

Bill let her push him onto his back, his legs still bent over the edge of 
the bed, his feet on the floor. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, 
letting it out with a soft, whooshing sound. 

His legs parted naturally, and he felt Marge push her body between them, her 
hands sliding down his chest, across his belly, and centering themselves 
around the triangle of hair tufted up from around the base of his cock. 

"You'll like it better if you watch," she said, looking at him from between 
his legs. 

Pulling a pillow under his head, Bill watched her as she cupped his hanging 
balls in one hand, squeezing and rolling the two encased walnuts between her 
fingers. Her fingernails scraped at the tender skin under his hanging sac 
and tickled his ass-hole. The muscles of his butt convulsed at her touch but 
it was a delightful convulsion. 

With her other hand, she took his limp prick, letting her fingers circle the 
flaccid flesh, pulling the skin up until it covered the soft, knobby head. 
Looking intensely at the head of his prick, she pulled the skin down again, 
stretching it tight, and squeezing it so that the head puffed slightly from 
the blood trapped there. 

Bill felt the muscles of his belly contract as desire rose in him like a 
bubbling spring. The desire became more intense as he watched Marge's bright 
pink tongue dart out and lick at the head of his prick. It provided a 
tingling wet warmth that traveled down the shaft of his cock and into the 
hanging sac containing his balls. She circled his prick's head with her 
lapping tongue, wetting and warming it. Holding the shaft in her hand, she 
sucked at the head of his prick like a candy cane, letting it pop out of her 
mouth, then dipping her head, mouth wide, to capture it again to be sucked 
and savored. 

Listening, Bill could hear the beating of his heart thumping in his ears. It 
got louder, sending the rich blood of his young body racing toward the 
center of his pelvis to fill and engorge his prick. He felt the muscular 
contractions of his ass as his body responded to Marge's expert tongue. His 
blood boiled into his cock, hot and thick. As her sucking lips released the 
head, it throbbed, jerked, and rose from between her tightly grasping 
fingers. 

Releasing her tight grip, she allowed the blood to fill the knob at the top 
of his white column of flesh, and Bill watched in a strange, fascinated way 
as it swelled, lengthened, and became a hard and rigid tool, ready for his 
most sensual delights. 

"Ummm, that's much better," she said, holding his now hardened prick lightly 
between her fingers, watching as it pulsed with its own life. 

Lifting herself higher, Marge laid his cock in the tight groove between her 
large, succulent breasts. She pushed them together, making a tight channel 
of warm flesh. Rolling her breasts with her hands pressed tightly to her 
sides, Marge let the warmth and texture of her tits move up and down the 
surface of Bill's prick. He watched as his prick's head, sticking up from 
between the two luscious mounds, became redder as it filled with even more 
blood. He felt the pull of his ass-hole as his muscles strained and 
contorted to force his prick to throb harder within the confines of her 
titted channel. 

"That's nice," she said, "I can feel it pushing against me." 

"What other tricks do you know?" Bill asked, lifting his head from the 
pillow. 

With a smile, Marge looked back at him, saying, "Just wait and see." 

"I might have a few of my own," he remarked. 

"Nothing kinky, I hope," she said, still rolling her breasts over his cock. 

"Nope, just plain good fun." 

"I'm game for that." 

"Come on and get on the bed and I'll show you a few," Bill suggested. 

"Not yet. I want to play some more." 

"Okay, it's your thing," he said, leaning back against the pillow. 

Dropping her tits so they bounced and jiggled, Marge got to her feet, 
spreading her legs and placing her knees on either side of Bill's hips. "I 
want to top-ride you for a while. Can you dig it?" 

"Couldn't have made a better suggestion myself," Bill answered as he scooted 
his hips closer to the edge of the bed to make it easier for her. 

On her knees, Marge held herself erect and took his prick in one hand and 
parted the lips of her cunt with the other. She inched herself forward until 
she had the head of his cock directly in line with her slot. Holding her 
pussy lips open, she wedged the head of his cock in the groove and moved it 
back and forth, wetting the head and stimulating herself at the same time. 

"Umm. I like that. How does it feel to you?" she asked as she rubbed herself 
harder against the flesh of his prick's head. 

"Just great," he admitted. 

Looking down his body, Bill could see that the head of his prick was 
glistening with the fluids that were emitting from her hole. She was already 
running like a river. The flow was so great that some of the viscous fluid 
ran off the head of his prick on down the shaft. 

Marge's head was thrown back, her eyes closed, and her lips parted. A 
strangled moan was coming from deep in her throat as she rubbed her cunt and 
clit against the head of his prick harder. She moved her knees forward a 
little and then spread them as wide as she could, spreading the pussy lips 
wide, exposing the pink gash that had been covered by the dark skin and 
black, wiry hair which spread from between her lush thighs up over the lower 
portion of her belly in a tiny black triangle. 

Bill could feel as well as see the bright pink hole as it opened and closed 
just above the head of his prick. He wanted to rip into that bright little 
spot with all the power of his body, but he knew that Marge was doing her 
own thing and he was getting all the benefit, so he relaxed, lying back on 
the pillow and enjoying the multiple sensations that were making him tingle 
in every part of his body. 

Marge placed the tip of his cock at the bright pink opening of her cunt and 
let her undulating lips nibble at the bulging head. "Don't move, man. Let me 
do it my way." 

"Go ahead, baby. Do your own thing." 

Springing up and down on her powerful thighs, Marge let the tip of his cock 
enter into her hole a little more. Looking down his tensed body, Bill could 
see that only about half of his cock's head was securely lodged in her 
opening. Marge was panting a little, apparently trying to hold back and 
savor the feeling that she had held for as long as possible before she 
changed her position. Sucking in her breath, Marge's entire body stiffened 
and she suddenly and without the slightest warning plunged downward. 

Bill's cock ripped into her innards, pushing aside the delicate tissues, and 
she impaled herself on his flesh. Her channel was warm and wet, well 
prepared for the sudden, violent plunge that she made to feel his fullness 
filling her cunt, stretching the opening with his thick member. Marge 
grunted loudly as her hips smacked against Bill's thighs and his entire cock 
was rammed into her box until she couldn't take another inch. He could feel 
the tip pressing against something deep within her body and he twitched his 
hips to move his cock against the obstruction. 

Marge groaned again and twisted her body from side to side, her hands 
clutched at each thigh, her belly heaving, breasts swelling with passion. 
She leaned forward at the waist, her hands sliding up Bill's body and 
circling his neck, her breasts pressing tightly against his chest. Tilting 
her head back, she opened her mouth and let her tongue dart out to cover his 
face with her warm saliva. 

Wrapping his arms around her waist, Bill twisted his head, his lips seeking 
hers, joining them, his tongue pressed hard against hers. Her cunt muscles 
were squeezing his cock, making it grow even bigger with a throbbing force 
that he didn't think he had. He wanted to move, to ram his cock in and out 
of her body, to make her cry with passion, to come a dozen times, to feel 
his own juice as it splashed into her from deep within herself. He wanted 
all these things and he wanted them now. Arching his body, he attempted to 
roll her off him so that he could get on top and fuck her until she cried 
for him to stop, but she wouldn't budge. 

"No, man, let me do it my way for a while. It'll be good, I promise." 

Bill ceased his efforts to dislodge her from her position astride him and 
waited for the next part of Marge's thing. 

Still pressing herself tightly against him, Marge started raising her hips, 
letting his cock slip out of her tightly gripping cunt. She pulled her body 
from him until just the head of his prick was in place, and then, with a 
shuddering moan, she would plunge down with all the force she could muster, 
rocking back and forth as she settled against him, his cock filling her to 
the fullest. Up and down the pattern went, and Bill was afraid that she was 
going to hurt herself, but didn't say a word, figuring she knew what and how 
much she wanted and was able to take. And so it went, stroke after stroke, 
up slowly, and then down again with a sudden plunging, moaning drop of her 
entire body as she impaled herself on his cock time and time again. 

Bill could feel her cunt milking at his cock as she rocked back and forth 
after each downward stroke, trying to get his milk to bathe her innards with 
its warm substance. Her teeth were at his shoulder, nipping the skin, taking 
whole mouthfuls to chew and lave with her tongue. Rumbling moans vibrated in 
her throat. Finally she announced what Bill had already suspected. 

"Coming! Now! Fuck me anyway you want, but fuck me hard," she cried in a 
barely coherent voice, spitting the words from between clenched teeth as 
they bit and gnawed at his shoulder. 

Bill had been waiting patiently for his turn. Now he could pay her back for 
the hum job she had introduced yesterday. He was going to give her a hum job 
to end all hum jobs. Arching his body, Bill rolled Marge on her side and 
then on her back. As he spread her legs, he pulled open the drawer of the 
small nightstand next to the bed and pulled out the banana-shaped vibrator 
that he stored there. Pushing back on Marge's legs, he raised them until her 
knees were touching her shoulders, then spread her thighs as wide as 
possible. This forced her cunt to gape wide open, ready and unprotected from 
any form of intrusion that he cared to make upon it. 

Spinning around, Bill placed himself in the classic sixty-nine position, his 
cock just above Marge's lips and his head thrust forward between her spread 
thighs. As he turned on the thick, white device, Bill felt Marge take his 
cock into her mouth, sucking on the root that had so recently been planted 
deep in her grotto. Her saliva mixed with her own lubricating juices, but 
she sucked him without complaint. 

Turning on the switch at the base of the machine, Bill heard and felt it 
spring into life, humming and quivering in his hand. Without preliminaries, 
he pointed it at her gaping hole and plunged it into her, ramming the full 
length of it into her body until it would go no further, until just the 
round, flat base was visible, its whiteness contrasting starkly with the 
darkness of her skin. 

Marge jerked her hips wildly as the plastic prick with the vibrating nose 
ripped into her box. 

She dropped Bill's prick from her mouth as she cried out with the sudden 
unexpected invasion of her cunt. Bill held her legs spread wide so that she 
couldn't flail about and then started moving the vibrator in and out of her 
cunt with fast, hard strokes. Bill felt her lips again grip his cock, her 
hands guiding it to her mouth. Her sucking was more vigorous and she was 
humming as loudly as she possibly could. It was just what Bill wanted a 
mutual hum job. 

He buried the vibrator in her cunt, ceasing his hard strokes, and turned the 
base so that the quickly pulsating tip would spin around deep inside her 
cunt, applying its oscillating sensations to every surface of her channel. 
Her muscles were spasming as she pushed and pulled at the device with her 
cunt. Bill watched them ooze up around the base and then retreat, her cunt 
trying to turn itself inside out. 

He felt Marge wrap her arms around his hips and her fingers slid into the 
open crack of his ass. They ran down the groove until they found the 
puckered star of his ass-hole and then they tickled and felt for the 
opening. The tip of a finger probed and then forced an entrance. She pushed 
hard and buried her finger deep in his bowels, rolling it around and then 
pushing it in and out slowly. 

Wetting his middle finger with the juices that were oozing from around the 
base of the vibrator, Bill aimed at her exposed ass-hole and without feeling 
or priming it, he plunged his finger into her nether hole as deeply as he 
could, She bucked against his hand, attempting to dislodge him, but he 
pressed on, forcing his entire finger into her bowels. They stroked into one 
another, wildly and without reservation. They were free, giving and taking 
mutual pleasure. 

Bill's prick felt swollen and sore as Marge worked on it with her lips, 
teeth, and tongue. He could feel the rumbling in his balls that meant he was 
about to come. The head of his prick was swollen to the point of bursting. 
Marge, apparently sensing nearness of his climax, bit down on that tender 
area just behind the glans, and rammed her finger as hard as she could into 
his ass. 

The explosion of his coming shook Bill to the core. The jets of liquid 
spurted from the slitted end of his cock and bathed the back of Marge's 
throat with the viscous milky substance that poured from deep within his 
body. Every muscle in his body was flexed to the point of ultimate strain. 
His ass-hole tightened around Marge's finger so that she could not move it 
in or out. His hips were jammed forward, forcing nearly the entire length of 
his cock into her sucking mouth. In spite of the fact that the last spurt of 
his come had already splashed into her throat to be swallowed hungrily, 
Marge maintained her grip on his softening prick, sucking and milking the 
softening flesh with her lips, running her tongue over the withered head. 

As if by mutual agreement, they each withdrew their buried fingers from the 
other's ass-hole. When Bill attempted to remove the humming vibrator as 
well, Marge bucked and twisted under him, telling him that she wanted it to 
remain buried in her body. 

At last his prick slid from between her lips and he was free to roll away 
and stretch out on the bed to relax his cramped and sore muscles. He 
immediately fell into a deep and undisturbed sleep. 

There were no more dreams of being swept to his ultimate destruction by 
waves of softly clinging water. There were no more siren voices to lure him 
over the precipice of some fantasy waterfall. There was nothing, just deep, 
black sleep, without fear, without struggle, He was warm. He was relaxed, 
vaguely conscious of another warm and relaxed being near him, and even that 
feeling drifted away from his as he dropped deeper and deeper into 
unconsciousness. Soon there was nothing at all. 

 CHAPTER SEVEN 

Stepping across the broken concrete that led up to Acid George's pad in the 
old rundown court near Fairfax and Beverly, Bill looked at the sagging 
screens hanging loosely on rusted metal hooks set in old, dry wood, the 
paint chipped and flaking from lack of care. Roots had split the sidewalk in 
a myriad of jagged patterns and the cement was raised in patchwork portions 
that made walking a hazard. 

The blare of rock music greeted him as he climbed the steps to Acid George's 
small, dingy pad. Bill swung open the rusty screen door and pushed at the 
weathered surface of the door. It swung open and the music got louder, much 
louder. He pushed his way inside and looked around the dim room. The usual 
number of bodies were stretched out on the rickety furniture and on the 
floor. The sweet pungent odor of pot assailed his nostrils and he quickly 
identified its origin as the smoking water pipe in the center of the rug, 
surrounded by prone bodies all sucking greedily at plastic tubes running 
into a rubber stopper at the top of the big glass jar on the floor. 

As Bill moved closer, Acid George slipped the plastic tube out from between 
his lips and rolled over. "What's your pleasure, man?" 

"Nothing, man, I'm meeting that chick I was asking you about the other day. 
She's supposed to be here tonight." 

"Outa sight chick, man, but she hasn't showed up yet. Hey, man, I could turn 
you on to a couple lids of some pretty good grass. Not as good as the 
Mexican stuff, but pretty good for growing wild in Iowa. It's rough, man. 
With this Intercept thing heating up the border, grass is hard to come by. 
What a drag. You know, man, sometimes I wonder if government is really a 
necessary evil. Before this latest caper, everything was cool; you could 
turn on a little with grass and everybody was happy, see? Now, man, all 
these cats switching to pills or worse and blowing their little minds with 
uppers and downers that-they never would have touched with a ten-foot-pole 
before. like I said, man, it's a real drag," Acid George complained bitterly 
and then turned back to his plastic tube. 

Sitting down against the wall of the small apartment, Bill wrapped his arms 
around his knees and settled down to wait. He hoped that Marge would have 
enough sense to make the damn bed after she woke up. He had left her 
sleeping when he got up and showered and dressed for his meeting with Terri 
Martin. He thought that the noise would rouse her, but when he had looked 
into the bedroom, she was still stretched out, her legs wide apart, the 
vibrator lying white and silent on the floor next to the bed. As he had 
stood in the doorway, Marge had stirred, rolled over, and curled up in a 
little ball, her head just barely on the pillow. He had gone into the room, 
taken a last look at the magnificence of her body and then pulled the covers 
over her nakedness. 

He had awakened with a hard-on and had to talk himself out of waking up 
Marge to relieve the tension. A piss had done the same thing and by the time 
he had gotten out of the shower, the desire was gone. Good thing too, 
because you could get hung up on a chick like Marge, and that would be a bad 
scene, a very bad scene. 

Bill saw the shaft of sunlight streak through the door as it opened. Terri 
Martin must have just washed her hair because it practically floated away 
from her head, the porch light catching each little strand and shimmeringly 
cresting her head in a halo of brilliant light. Bill looked at her glowing 
silhouette through the blue haze of pot smoke, then the door closed and she 
was inside the room, standing by the doorway, letting her eyes adjust to the 
dimness. 

Looking around the room, she nodded at several people, and then her gaze 
fell on Bill, still sitting with his back against the wall, arms clasped 
tightly about his knees. He couldn't be too obvious. Let her make a move. 

"Hi, baby," Acid George said from his position around the water pipe. "The 
cat you're looking for is over there against the wall." 

She nodded and moved toward Bill. He watched her coming across the room, her 
narrow hips tightly encased in hip-hugging bell-bottoms, her feet in the 
same flat-nosed boots she wore yesterday, and a clinging, long-sleeved 
blouse that was partly covered by a fringed leather vest. Several strands of 
beads hung around her neck and swung with the same rhythm as her obviously 
unencumbered breasts. As she neared, he moved down the wall a bit to make 
room for her. 

"Hi, my name's Bill," he said in greeting. "Hi, Terri's mine." 

"How's the astrology coming?" Bill said, for openers. 

"I don't know. I really don't fool with it much. It's just kind of 
interesting and I'm kind of curious," she said matter-of-factly. "How's the 
Tarot?" 

"To tell you the truth, I haven't even cracked the book yet. It's still in 
the car. Say, I'm hungry as hell. What say we head over to that Mexican 
restaurant on Beverly a couple of blocks from here and get something to 
eat," Bill suggested, hoping that she hadn't eaten dinner yet. 

"I'd like to but I have to watch my bread. I'm a little low right now," she 
answered, looking down at her boots. 

"That's okay. I've got enough bread for the both of us," Bill countered. 

"Okay, man. If it's cool with you," she said, and started getting to her 
feet. 

They got a booth by one of the windows overlooking the little patio garden 
and gave their order to the waitress in the low-necked blouse and long, 
floor-length hoop skirt. 

"You been in Los Angeles long?" he ventured. 

"How'd you know I wasn't from L.A.? " she countered defensively. 

"Well, most people aren't, so I just assumed that you had come from 
someplace else like the rest of us, or at least like me," Bill said, quickly 
covering himself and giving himself a mental kick for the slip. It was 
close, too close. She's uptight and on the ball, he recorded in his head. 

Her clear eyes locked with his and held them for a long moment. It was as if 
she were trying to make up her mind to trust him. "I've been here a couple 
of weeks," she said finally, "I came down from up North." 

"Just here for a little vacation?" he asked. 

"In a way. I really came down here to get my head straight about a few 
things and find out in what direction I want to go." 

"How are you doing?" he asked, hoping to keep the conversation going until 
the food arrived. 

"Oh, I've got a couple of questions answered, but there is one thing you can 
tell me," she said, smiling a little. 

"Okay, shoot." 

"Why did you hustle me in the book store and then invite me out to eat 
tonight? Are you trying to hustle my bod?" she asked with disarming 
frankness. 

Bill looked her square in the eyes. "Sure, you're a groovy-looking chick. As 
far as I'm concerned, balling is where it's at." 

"Yeah. If it's with someone you dig, but it's no fun if you're just another 
cunt for some cat's prick," she said bluntly, looking right into Bill's eyes 
again as if trying to find out where his head was at. 

"I don't know about chicks, but balling is fun anytime for a cat," he said. 

"I suppose," she ended the discussion, turning her head and looking through 
the window into the garden. 

Thank God, Bill thought, here comes the food. 

The waitress slide the big oval dishes in front of them and then scurried 
away to get their coffee. The restaurant was busy, and when the waitress 
finally returned they were half finished with their food. They had both 
ordered tacos, beans, and rice. The harried waitress slopped the coffee into 
the two cups, spilling it into the saucers in her hurry to get to her other 
customers. They finished their meal in silence, drank their coffee, and got 
the check, all with a minimum, of conversation. 

Bill paid the cashier as they left, and while they were walking down the two 
steps leading out of the restaurant, Bill popped it. 

"How 'bout going up to my place and seeing if we can figure out what the 
Tarot cards say?" 

She didn't give him an answer until after they had walked half the length of 
the restaurant on the outside, heading toward the parking lot next door. 

"Okay, man, but I want to reserve the right to say no if I don't want to 
ball, okay." 

"Fair enough." 

Putting the key in the door, Bill felt a sudden wave of fear ripple through 
his body. He said a little prayer that Marge had split and had made the bed. 
There's nothing that bugs a chick more than to see two rumpled pillows in a 
double bed she has just been invited to share. 

Bill swung the door open, reached inside to turn on the light, and then 
stepped back to allow Terri to go through the door first. 

She let him pass and stood just inside the door under the entrance way 
light. Bill moved into the living room, switching on lights as he went. He 
opened the wide curtain across the front of the room so that she could see 
the twinkling lights of the city below. 

"This is a very nice pad," she said. "It must cost you a bundle." 

"My one luxury. A Cancerian compulsion." 

Bill put the Tarot cards and instruction book on the long coffee table. "Can 
I get you some coffee?" he asked. 

"That'd be cool." 

Hurrying into the kitchen, Bill quickly looked through the open door to the 
bedroom. He breathed a sigh of relief. The bed was made. After filling the 
kettle under the tap, Bill placed it over the high gas flame. When he turned 
to go back into the living room, Terri was standing in the entrance, 
watching him intently. 

"That water will take a little while to heat, let's go into the other room 
and take a look at the Tarot book," Bill offered. 

"Okay," she said, turning on her heel. 

Bill followed her into the living room and sat down next to her on the 
couch. They spent the next few minutes looking through the book, reading 
aloud the meanings for some of the cards. They paid careful attention on how 
to lay out the hand and what the position of each card meant. They had just 
decided that Terri was a perfect Queen of Cups, when the water started to 
boil and announced its readiness with a shrill whistle. 

"Shuffle the cards, I'll get the coffee," Bill said, rising and hurrying 
into the kitchen. 

As he poured the steaming water into each cup, he heard the sharp cardboard 
clatter of Terri ruffling the cards. Picking up the cups, Bill walked 
carefully back to the couch, gingerly setting the cups down on the coffee 
table before sitting down again. 

Terri set the cards on the table top in a neat pile and then, using her left 
hand, cut them twice, making three uneven stacks. 

"All set to go?" Bill asked. 

"Let's give it a try," she said, picking up the book which contained the 
meanings for the cards. 

Bill made a single pile out of the three stacks and started turning the 
cards up one by one in a rough H design. Only one card seemed out of place, 
the one that represented Influences either leaving or about to leave. It was 
sitting along just to the left of the left leg of the H. Bill looked at it 
as he laid it on the coffee table. It was the Queen of Swords. The cross bar 
of the H was made up of the Lovers, while the right hand leg of the H 
consisted of the High Priestess, the Two of Cups, the Tower, and finally, at 
the top, the King of Wands. 

"Who's the chick?" Bill asked, pointing to the Queen of Swords. 

"Probably my aunt," Terri said. "I've lived with her ever since my mother 
and father were killed in an accident." 

"Looks like you have an excellent spread," Bill commented. "You're going to 
get your head straight about love and where you're at as a woman and find 
some cat." 

"That's sort of what it says," Terri said, looking at the book and flipping 
pages to find out the meaning of each card in the spread. "My aunt would 
really freak out if she could see this." 

"Why?" 

"Because she thinks that all she has to do is wiggle her fingers and I'll do 
whatever she wants me to. See, she wants to get the control of my estate 
away from the lawyers that have handled it ever since my father and mother 
die. She keeps telling me how they are losing my money or not making enough. 
Well, I happen to know they weren't doing any of those things, but I agreed 
with my aunt just to keep her quiet. Well, she started believing her own 
stories and brought suit against the executors of the estate, and she wanted 
me to be the chief witness. I bugged out. I'm sure she's tried to find me, 
but even if she did I wouldn't testify against the present executors." 

"Kind of a bummer, isn't it?" Bill commented, his mind working over the 
things that Terri Martin just said. His whole deal had been based on the 
fact that she would testify and dear 

Aunt Millicent would get control of all that nice money. And now Terri 
Martin had just shot down his whole balloon. 

"Yep," she said, laying the book on the table and turning toward Bill. 

"Do you want some more coffee?" Bill asked, trying to collect himself and 
figure out a new strategy. 

"Nope. You got any sounds in this pad, man?" she asked, looking around the 
room. 

"Sure. Right over there against the wall," Bill said, pointing to the 
self-contained stereo system in its hand-rubbed cabinet. 

"Hey! This is really far out," she told Bill, appreciating the stereo system 
and his selection of albums. "Hey, man, how does it work?" 

Bill walked over to the stereo, turned several knobs, placed the records she 
had selected on the automatic changer, and then hit the starter switch in 
front of the needle arm. 

As he stepped back, he ran right into Terri. Stumbling, he sought to regain 
his balance and grabbed for some support. His arms circled her waist and his 
hand found the wall behind her. 

"If you hadn't just stepped all over me, I'd have sworn this was a put-up 
job," she said with a little smile. 

He looked down into her face which was tilted back, her head against the 
wall, and the lights went on in his head, Why hadn't he thought of it 
before? It was a natural, so perfect that a five-year-old kid could have 
seen it. Why play for peanuts when you can play the same game and get the 
whole farm? "I still think you're a groovy chick." 

"That's cool, because I think you're a pretty heavy cat." 

Moving his body forward, Bill tightened the grip of his arms around her 
waist and pulled her to him. He bent his head, his lips brushing her 
forehead, eyelids, and nose, before fastening on her own half-parted lips. 
His hands moved up and down her back, feeling the soft material of her 
blouse and the roughed-out texture of the leather vest. 

Her arms moved up until she was able to get them securely around his neck 
and then she pulled his face closer to his, letting her lips open wider and 
allowing his tongue to slip into the warm cavern of her mouth. 

Bill felt the schoolboy tingle of his first kiss as his tongue explored the 
inside of her mouth, probing and duelling with her tongue as they swayed 
back and forth next to the stereo which blared out the latest in rock 
sounds, the coital beat hammering against the walls, filling the room with 
its insistent rhythm, its urgency, its need. 

By an uncanny common consent, unstated, but understood by both, they broke 
the long kiss, Bill's fingers gripping Terri by the shoulders while she 
snuggled her head to his chest. They stood like that for a long moment. 

"You want to do a thing?" Bill asked, hoping that she wouldn't refuse to 
utilize her option to say no. 

She didn't say a word, but just nodded her head up and down against his 
chest in silent agreement. 

They walked to the bedroom, hand in hand, Bill leading the way, opening the 
door, turning on or off the lights as needed. 

"This is very nice," Terri said, looking around the bedroom and then walking 
to the edge of the big bed in the center of the room, "It's very masculine, 
I like that." 

"I'm certainly glad you do," said Bill, a husky confidence in his voice that 
had been absent a few moments before. 

Turning around, Terri sat on the edge of the bed, bouncing up and down a 
little to test the spring in the mattress. "You haven't got any diseases, 
have you?" she asked, looking right at Bill frankly. 

"Not even measles," he replied and pulled his shirt from the top of his 
flared pants. 

"Don't do that. I want to do it," she said. 

"Okay," he agreed, taking off his boots and stretching out full length on 
the bed. He'd have to pull out all the stops with this one, he thought to 
himself as he watched Terri get up and walk around the bed until she was 
standing right next to him. 

"I've always wondered what it would be like to take a man's clothes off. Is 
it stimulating?" Terri asked him. 

"Depends on who and how it's done," Bill answered. 

"Hmmm," was her only reply as she studied him, and then sat down on the edge 
of the bed, her hands moving to his neck to start unbuttoning the pulled-out 
body shirt. Her fingers moved quickly and lightly down his front, undoing 
the buttons expertly. When the last one was undone, Bill raised up on his 
elbows and shrugged the shirt off his shoulders, down his arms, and to the 
floor next to the bed. 

"That's a nice ANKH," she said, looking at the symbol strung around his neck 
by a silver chain. 

"Thanks," he said. 

"You've got a nice bod," she murmured, running her hand over his bare chest 
and belly, appreciating the firmness and contour of his muscular 
development. 

Her fingers pulled at his belt, working the wide leather through the loops 
of his pants so that she could get it unbuckled and open. Pulling on the 
end, she pulled the metal tongue free from the hole and slid the belt end 
through the buckle. Moving more slowly now, she looked closely at the flat 
hook clasp that held the top of his pants closed. She figured it out, and 
with a simple motion of her hands, got it open. The zipper was next and 
presented no problem. Bill raised his hips and Terri slid his pants down 
over them, exposing more of his body to her view. 

"Very nice," she said when the pants were resting on the floor next to the 
shirt. 

Standing up, Terri went to the end of the bed and pulled off Bill's socks, 
tossing them in the pile with the shirt and the pants. "Now we find out 
where it's really at," she said with a smile, letting her hands slide up his 
bare legs until her fingers were hooked under the elastic wait-band of his 
shorts. 

Again Bill raised his hips and let her slide the shorts over his hips and 
down his legs, to be finally placed in the same pile of clothing that was 
growing beside the bed. 

"I hope it doesn't stay that way all night," Terri said, pointing at Bill's 
flaccid penis lying arched across his thigh. 

"All in good time," he said, "You're not even undressed yet." 

"Hmmm." 

Terri peeled back the fringed leather vest and tugged it off her shoulders, 
letting it drop onto the same pile of clothes at the foot of the bed. 
Tossing her head forward, sending her golden hair flying, she pulled the two 
strands of beads over her head and dropped them on the floor. Slowly, with 
her very move intended to provoke him, Terri undid the buttons on her 
blouse. Pulling the ends out of her snugly fitting bell-bottoms, she undid 
the last button and let the fabric hang open down the front, but not wide 
enough for Bill to see her naked breasts. She was wearing a scarf for a 
belt, and her fingers fiddled at the knot, trying to work it loose. Finally 
the knot broke apart and the material separated into two parts, each hanging 
from a different loop on her tight pants. Terri expertly undid the button at 
the top of her pants, pulled down the zipper, and then stopped. 

Bill had been watching each and every move with rapt attention, not wanting 
to miss a single move, since the entire performance was calculated to 
stimulate him. He was busily thinking of some things that would very 
definitely stimulate Terri Martin, turn her on enough that she would freak 
out and he could have her move in, tell Millicent to go fly a kite, and 
after a reasonable period, make it all legal. It would be perfect. He might 
have had second thoughts if Terri were a real dog, but she wasn't she was a 
groovy looking chick, and with all that money just waiting for them to 
spend. Oh, hot shit, he had it made. 

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Terri unzipped her boots and pulled 
them from her feet. After she pulled off her socks, she stood up and, 
looking directly at Bill, pulled off her blouse. Her breasts bounced into 
view, full, firm, and rounded. Cherry-colored tips poked out of the white 
centers like topping on a scoop of ice cream. In the soft light of the 
bedside lamp, she was even better than he had remembered that first night he 
had seen her as she did the wild, uninhibited dance at Acid George's. The 
lines of her body tapered down into a very narrow waist, the smooth line 
broken only by the deep indentation of her navel that seemed to wink at him 
from just above the vee made by her unzipped pants. 

Hooking her thumbs into the sides of her pants, Terri thrust her rump out 
and bent forward slightly, letting her perfect breasts swing back and forth 
in front of Bill's face, then she tugged and pulled until she had peeled the 
pants off her flaring hips like she was removing a second skin. As soon as 
the material was clear of her hips, it fell into a wrinkled lump at her 
feet. Stepping out with one leg, she kicked the pants away from her with the 
other and then stood up straight at the end of the bed, full naked, and 
turning her proud body so that Bill could see it from every angle. 

"Why the hell don't you get in bed?" Bill asked with exasperation choking 
off his words. 

Terri moved to the other side of the bed and slid under the covers. Jumping 
to his feet, Bill grabbed the edge of the sheet and ripped it down the 
length of the bed, exposing Terri's prone body. 

"I'm going to blow your mind," he said as he pulled her body crosswise in 
the bed, her legs hanging over the side. Kneeling quickly, Bill forced his 
body between her full luscious thighs, brushing past the satin texture of 
her skin. His mouth went right for her crotch. Throwing one of her thighs 
over each shoulder, Bill made a dagger out of his tongue and stabbed at the 
center of her sex. As his lips engulfed her small pussy and his tongue 
darted in and out of the tight crack, Bill could feel Terri's fingers 
running through his hair, pulling and pushing as she tossed on the bed from 
side to side. 

Probing with his tongue, Bill found the center of her pleasure, that small 
nub of flesh that usually lies hidden in the folds of skin covering a girl's 
cunt, but rises when she is stimulated and ready for sex. His tongue brushed 
across it and felt it respond with a jerking throb, rising higher from the 
folds of flesh that protected it. His tongue sought the small illusive knob 
again, found it, and gripped it with his lips. 

Terri had stopped pulling and pushing at his hair and her hands had dropped 
to her sides. She was no longer tossing from side to side on the bed, but 
seemed to be lying there, enjoying his efforts to bring her to that ultimate 
joy of orgasm. Bill was going to give her the whole works, sucking and 
fucking like she had never had before. She was going to fall in love with 
his prick and tongue. 

Holding the cheeks of her tight ass in each hand, Bill moved his thumbs 
until they were aligned on either side of her cunt and using them, he pulled 
the lips of her pussy open, to give his digging tongue more room in which to 
work. As he busied himself at her crotch, his nose rummaging through the 
soft pussy hairs on her cunt and lower belly, Bill was aware of the sweet 
young taste of her, unsullied by overuse, acid and biting on the end of the 
tongue. She had a taste of fresh-caught fish, refreshing and alive. His 
nostrils picked up the scent of her and he savored it. There was a faint 
aroma of bath soap and cologne, lavender and spice. 

Bill burrowed into the delicious slot like an animal, his tongue licking 
back and forth over Terri's clit, drawing on it with his lips, and finally, 
when he felt the time was right, gently biting it with his teeth. Her 
stomach was moving up and down as she labored hard to breathe. Her cunt was 
open and Bill, when he drew his head back occasionally, could see that her 
tight little hole was spasming in and out. Going back to his task, Bill 
figured on one more sensation and then he would take her and fuck her until 
she couldn't walk or talk straight. 

As his tongue licked at her, Bill's thumb sought and found the wrinkled star 
of her ass-hole. When he was sure that he had his digit in the right 
position, Bill sucked as much of her clit and pussy lips into his mouth as 
he could, rolling them around, then biting down gently on the nether flesh. 
At the same moment, he rammed this thumb into her ass-hole, burying it in 
her body until no more could be forced in the tightly closed hole. Bill 
rolled her delicate tissue around in his mouth and rolled his thumb around 
in her ass, causing Terri to arch her body high off the bed, writhing from 
side to side and then dropping limply back on the bed. 

Figuring it was time for the big moment, Bill rose from his kneeling 
position between her widely spread thighs, pulling his mouth and thumb from 
their respective orifices, and dove forward, covering her body with his own. 

"Baby, you're outa sight," he said in her ear. 

"Hmm." 

Lifting her body and pulling her around in the bed, Bill got her 
straightened out so they were lying properly in the bed. He rolled over on 
his side and started nibbling at her neck, ear and cheek. His hands were 
passing back and forth over her full and youthful body, feeling the warmth, 
the firmness, and the rounded muscular curves. Fitting his knee between her 
thighs, shoving them apart to allow enough room for his body to fit when the 
time came. Rolling over on his knees, Bill quickly climbed between her 
outstretched thighs and gripped his hardened cock with one hand while he 
felt, for her opening with the other. Guiding his cock, Bill positioned the 
head at the tight opening and shoved his hips forward to lodge the head 
within her cavern. 

God, she was tight! Tighter than nearly any other woman he had ever 
experienced. Rearing back, Bill bore down hard, thrusting forward violently 
with his pelvis, attempting to get the knob-like head of his prick started 
in her hole. He reached under her, taking the cheeks of her ass in his 
hands. As he shoved hard down on her body, he lifted her hips up to him. 

With a deep sense of satisfaction, Bill felt the head of his cock slip 
tightly into her hole. Maintaining a steady pressure, Bill bore down on her, 
forcing more of his staff into her body, feeling the tissues reluctantly 
part before the head of his cock as it wedged itself deeper into Terri's 
body. 

When the head of his cock had finally penetrated her, Bill had heard Terri 
gasp and then start a soft moan as he pushed his prick into her. Her arms 
still by her sides, her legs cocked up at the knees, thighs spread wide to 
accommodate the width of his body. Bill felt the muscles of her cunt giving 
way to the onslaught of his cock, felt her body expand and unfold to accept 
his offering to take his meat and love it. He thought he'd never stop 
sinking into her depth, but then his pelvis bumped against her up-thrust 
pubic bone and Bill knew that he was in her to the hilt. He rested for a 
moment, gathering his strength for the next phase of his lovemaking with 
Terri Martin. He buried his face in the side of her neck, his lips 
caressing, his teeth nibbling at the delicate flesh surrounding her ear and 
under her chin. He wasn't in any hurry, he was going to make it last. 

Terri had not moved since his prick had finally reached the depths of her 
body and Bill had stopped shoving its length into her. He felt that she was 
waiting for him to take the lead, for him to find his own pace, so that he 
would be satisfied, complete, and fulfilled. He figured that she was letting 
him do his own thing on her body and was enjoying it as much as he was. 

Secure in that, Bill hunched his hips and started drawing out the long staff 
of his cock, feeling her cunt grip at it as it slid up her channel. He 
withdrew until just the head was wedged in her hole and then he began to 
push steadily back into her, letting his prick fill her cunt to its fullest. 
He didn't stop until their pubic hair touched, brushed together, and 
entangled. 

Again he rested for a moment, thrilling with the feel of her tight cunt 
wrapping itself around the full length of his staff and wetting it with her 
juices. Once more he started out of her and heard the moan that rippled from 
deep within her throat. She was turned on and he was doing it. 

With his hands still cupping her ass, Bill rose and fell on top of her body, 
pumping his staff into her like a hammerhead pump sending its long metal 
shaft into the ground to extract oil. Up and down he went, each time finding 
a new thrill and new experience to excite his senses. 

Releasing his grip on her ass, Bill moved his arms until his elbows were 
behind her knees. He lifted his arms, raising her legs at the knee, and then 
pushed his arms forward, forcing her thighs and legs back until her knees 
were nearly touching her shoulders. Bill raised his body a little straighter 
so that his prick would plunge into her body at the most exciting angle and 
give her the biggest thrill. 

Holding down her legs so that her hole was opened wide and the skin was 
stretched across her ass, Bill pulled out three-quarters of his cock and 
then plunged down into her violently. A startled grunt escaped her lips as 
Bill's prick hit bottom. He began to pump into her steadily, his rhythmic 
plunges relentless in their driving fury. 

The friction that her cunt was putting on his cock was too much. He was 
straining every fiber in his body not to come down too soon. Bill wanted 
this one to be a real blowout and for her to feel it as much he did. He 
figured she was close and so he doubled his efforts to pump into her cunt as 
hard as he could so that they could pop their nuts together. 

.It was funny the way it happened. One minute Bill was in perfect control of 
the situation; the next moment he was a thrusting, humping animal, throwing 
himself onto Terri's lovely young body with all the fury of a demon. He was 
plunging his cock into her cunt as hard and as fast as he could for about 
four strokes, and then he drew her into his arms as tightly as possible, 
felt her own arms encircle his neck, and, as his pulsating, throbbing cock 
sank into her soft flesh with a driving thrust of his hips, Bill felt his 
seed spurt out in gushes. 

Again and again it spit from the tiny slitted end. The come poured out of 
his body and joined the juices of hers, to swirl together, intermingle, 
join, cohere, and meld. 

Finally, completely drained, Bill collapsed, mumbling incoherently in his 
drug-like state. As he pulled himself from her body, Bill realized that his 
prick was still reasonably hard. He'd have to take the chance that it was 
hard enough and continue to make love to this girl who held the key to his 
future in her hands. He had to prove to her that he was the best around, the 
man who had the strength to make her the happiest woman in the world when he 
made love to her. 

Pulling his prick from her body, Bill grabbed her by the hips and turned her 
over on her stomach. Gripping her on each side of the waist, Bill lifted her 
until her butt was sticking up in the air and her head was lying on the 
white pillow. When he rolled her over, Terri had folded her arms and rested 
her cheek on the back of her hand. 

Bill pushed her legs apart quickly and walked between them on his knees. He 
positioned himself and pushed the head of his cock toward the hole he knew 
to be waiting succu-lently between the folds of skin at the juncture of her 
two well-rounded thighs. The probing head of his cock found the entrance 
that it was seeking and pushed its way into Terri's dark, warm, and wet 
cavern. 

This time Bill felt himself slide into her body easily. She was all oiled up 
and ready to go, he thought. Leaning forward over her body, Bill grabbed one 
of her tits in each hand, and plunged his cock in and out of her box as he 
squeezed and kneaded the resilient flesh of her breast, taking time now and 
again to tweak the nipples, making them rise and pucker with desire. 

After finding its natural lodging place, Bill's prick started to re-swell 
with new passion, to re-gorge itself with new life-giving blood so that it 
throbbed and pulsated with new energy and heated passion. A swell of pride 
rippled through Bill's body as he realized that his body was rising to the 
challenge, that his youth was bringing him through when he needed it the 
most. 

As he looked down at Terri's face which was turned to the side on the 
pillow, her hands gripping either side, Bill noted with satisfaction that 
her mouth was half open and she was emitting strangled grunts each time his 
prick pushed into her body. He jammed at her harder, feeling a new surge of 
power as a new energy force drove his hips and thighs faster and harder. 

Dropping one of her breasts, Bill rubbed her belly and tangled his fingers 
in her pubic hair. His finger was seeking her slot, and when he found it, he 
pushed his finger boldly into it to seek her clit. 

It rose to meet him from amid the folds of flesh that protected and covered 
her cunt. Bill's finger brushed across it, went on, paused, and then 
returned to brush it again. He could hear Terri gasp each time his finger 
passed across the rigid nub of tissue. 

Gripping it between his thumb and forefinger, Bill pulled at her clit until 
it was stretched away from the groove of her cunt and then he let it go, to 
snap back to its accustomed place between the tight lips of her pussy. 

Again and again he snapped her clit as he drove into her body and each time 
he was greeted with her guttural response. He felt his second load of come 
winging its way up the many ducts of his body toward his prick. He mentally 
urged it on; he wanted to splash into her again. He felt the time was right, 
that she was as ready as he was to come. 

Sweat was running down his face and chest as he worked at her body with his 
own. The little drops of clear liquid were dropping off his nose and chin 
onto her back where they gathered and ran down the groove of her backbone. 
Bill felt hot, hot all over, just like he had a fever. He wondered about 
that for a fleeting moment and then put the thought out of his mind so that 
he could concentrate on blowing his nuts with Terri. 

Harder and harder his body worked, thrusting his prick forward and back like 
the driving rod on a steam locomotive, in and out. Back and forth. 

With a strangled cry. Bill felt his come pour down the final tube in his 
prick and pour out into Terri's waiting body. He felt his muscles contorting 
as they attempted to spew out the milky substance with greater force and 
power. Bill's hands gripped her breast harder, his fingers making deep 
indentations in her flesh. His other hand rubbed and kneaded the tiny clit 
and rubbed up and down her slot. 

As the last of his come drained from his body, Bill felt his prick shrivel 
and fall from the succulent tube that had housed it so perfectly. 

When he was free of her and their bodies were no longer joined by his staff 
of thick flesh, he rolled to the side of the bed, pulled a pillow under his 
head, and dropped into a rich, deep sleep. 

 CHAPTER EIGHT 

Insistently, the buzz became a ring and the ringing continued on and off, 
regularly timed and tumultuous. Bill rolled over and groped for the 
ivory-colored telephone next to the bed. His hand closed over the softly 
rounded contours and he picked it up, pressed it to his ear, and grunted. 

"Good morning, Bill. Did I get you up?" Millicent's rich voice vibrated over 
the phone's receiver and made its impression in Bill's mind. 

"Yeah. But it's okay. I had to get up sometime. What time is it, anyway?" he 
asked. 

"Just a little after one. When are you going to deliver that very valuable 
package?" she asked archly. 

"If you're still at Gloria's house, I'll see you there in about an hour and 
a half. Okay?" 

"All right. We'll expect you and Terri about eleven-thirty then," Millicent 
crooned. 

"She won't be coming along. Something has come up, but I'll tell you all 
about it when I get there. Okay?" 

"Well, I think you should at least tell me something. What's wrong? Can't 
you find her now? Is she hurt? Sick? Arrested? What's come up?" 

"When I get there, goddamn it. It's nothing that you can't handle." 

"Okay, I'll see you about eleven-thirty." 

"Okay. Bye." 

"Bye." 

"Who was that?" Terri asked as she rolled over in the bed, wrapped the sheet 
around her full, luscious body, and looked up at Bill with her clear 
forthright eyes. 

"No one important," he said, leaning over and planting a kiss on the end of 
her nose. "How do you feel this morning?" 

"Very well, thank you." 

"Are you hungry?" 

"Yes, very." 

"Okay, you stay put and rest that beautiful body of yours, and I'll hustle 
around here and get us some bacon and eggs and coffee. How's that for 
openers?" Bill asked enthusiastically as he rolled out of bed and headed for 
the bathroom. "Just let me take a quick shower first." 

"Okay. I'd like to do the same thing when you're finished," Terri said. 

Bill turned in the doorway, his face in a bright smile, saying, "Come on. 
We'll take one together. It'll save soap and water." 

"Okay," she said, climbing out of bed and stretching. 

Bill grabbed two fresh towels from the linen closet and laid them out in the 
bathroom. He turned on the water and adjusted the temperature until it was 
just right, then opened the shower door. 

"Ladies first," he said, stepping back to allow Terri to move through the 
door ahead of him. 

Her buttocks bounced saucily as she stepped through the door and walked 
under the hot spray. Bill savored the soft flare of her hips, the slimness 
of her waist, the fullness of her thighs, and the swelling mounds that 
marked her breasts. It was time to buy a little insurance, he thought, as he 
stepped into the shower behind her and pulled the door closed. 

As the water sprayed over their bodies, giving 

Bill new strength, his hands circled her waist and he hugged her closely, 
kissing her neck, shoulders, and back. 

"You're the grooviest chick I've ever met," he said as his lips nuzzled 
wetly next to her ear. "I could really do a thing with you." 

"You're a very nice cat," she said, picking up the soap from the tray built 
into the wall of the tiled shower. 

"Here, let me. It's more fun that way," Bill offered, taking the soap from 
her hand and working up a thick lather between the palms of his hands. 

He spread the thick, creamy lather over her shoulders and down her back, 
feeling the silky softness of her skin as his soapy hands glided over its 
surface. He worked smoothly and efficiently, letting the lulling heat of the 
needle-fine spray do its part. Bill soaped the backs of her thighs, her 
calves, and her heels, but paid particular attention to the full cheeks of 
her ass, letting his hand dip deep into the crack that so evenly divided 
those two twin spheres. 

"You're outa sight," Bill told her, as if he were trying to sell her on the 
idea that she was very pretty. "After breakfast, why don't you just sort of 
take life easy around here while I go see the person who called. You know, 
sort of get used to the place. It's all yours, you can have the whole ball 
of wax," Bill said with the proper emphasis. 

Standing up, he spun her around by the shoulders. "Now the front," he said. 

The soap suds oozed down her body in little bubbling trails. Bill moved the 
scented bar back and forth across Terri's upper chest, just watching the 
soap flow down her beautiful body. He circled and lathered each of her full, 
firm breasts, making sure that he tweaked her nipples gently so they would 
pop up and make an easier target for his tongue later. Down the bar of soap 
traveled, dipping into the soft contours of her belly, over the flare of her 
hips, and into the dense foliage of her pubic hair, a wet, burnished gold. 

Bill's lips were right behind the bar of soap. He had pushed Terri right 
against the shower wall, and she stood there, back braced against the tiles, 
feet spread wide and the water running down her bare and delicious skin as 
Bill paid tender homage to its loveliness with his lips, teeth, and tongue. 
He licked his way around each breast, nuzzling and lifting the swelled 
mounds with his nose and face. Bill sucked each nipple into his mouth in 
turn, laved, savored, bit, and chewed at it, until both were a rosy pink, 
standing straight and firm like two little pop-up muffins. 

Moving downward, Bill knelt at her feet, his lips and tongue moving back and 
forth across her belly, dipping into her navel, his tongue darting into the 
dimpled depression. He slid himself furthur between her spread thighs, his 
tongue laving its way across her pubic hair still sweet with the taste and 
scent of the soap. He felt her fingers entwining themselves in his hair, 
pulling at his head, drawing his face closer to the center of her sex, to 
that spot which could give her ultimate joy. His face ground into her very 
center, his tongue stiff and pointed like a dagger trying to find that one 
spot of vulnerability. 

"Eat me. Eat me good," Terri groaned, the water splashing across her face 
and running down her body. 

Bill's tongue rummaged through the softly curling hair that covered her cunt 
with gold, found the narrow slit that divided her pussy lips, and 
penetrated. Turning his head to the side, he sent his tongue down the entire 
length of her groove, savoring the sweet taste of it, breathing in the rich 
woman smell of her flowing juices combined with the lime smell of soap. 

He could feel himself getting hard as he knelt on the floor in front of her. 
His weapon was rising from between his legs to its full length, strong and 
straight as a pink pole, topped by a vermilion knob. He put his own passion 
aside for the time being and concentrated on bringing Terri off with his 
tongue. There would be a whole lifetime for satisfying his prick within the 
confines of her tight snatch. 

Finding the opening to her sex, Bill let his tongue dive into the resilient 
orifice, to taste and smell the juices that flowed from that tight aperture. 
He felt her pussy lips fasten themselves around his tongue and milk it, 
trying to draw more of its length into her body. 

"Oh. Lick it. Lick it hard," Terri cried, her head thrown back, her eyes 
clamped tightly shut. 

Using his fingers, Bill pried apart the tightly closed lips of her cunt 
while his tongue continued to search for her clit. Finally, he felt the 
small nub start to rise from its hiding place and his lips fastened 
themselves around its base. He nibbled at the slick little mound of delicate 
flesh, letting his tongue pass back and forth over its tips, exciting it to 
a larger size. 

Terri was rolling her body back and forth against the wall of the shower, 
oblivious of the water as it soaked her hair, making it like strings of 
golden spaghetti. Her hands were moving on the top of Bill's head, urging 
him on to greater and more thrilling activities with his trained tongue. 
Bill felt her legs start to quiver, her belly shake, and her breathing 
become labored as he worked his lips and tongue over and around her swelling 
clit. 

Her thighs were clamped tight around his head, making it difficult for him 
to see or hear, but Bill could feel and he sensed that she was just about to 
blow her nuts. Trying to guess as accurately as possible, Bill waited for a 
few precious moments more, and then gently bit down on her swollen clit, 
tossing his head from side to side after he had her clit firmly between his 
teeth. He could feel the tremendous spasm shaking her entire body as she 
spent herself under his teeth and tongue. Racking pulsation after racking 
pulsation rippled along her full length, making her skin pucker in little 
goose bumps despite the hot water running over her body. Her breath was 
sucked in and held. Finally, Bill heard her let it out in great whoosh, and 
she loosened the grip with which her thighs held his head to its task. Her 
hands were shaking when they let go of his hair and she was breathing very 
deeply when Bill stood up to face her, her breasts rising and falling as she 
sucked in great draughts of air. 

Bill soaped himself while she recovered. As he worked the lather in and 
thought about facing Millicent Martin, his stiffened hard-on subsided and 
finally flopped uselessly between his legs. 

Getting out of the shower, he handed Terri a towel and watched as she dried 
herself, rubbing the nappy surface over her skin until it glowed pink and 
healthy. 

After drying himself, Bill wrapped the towel around his middle and walked to 
the kitchen and started breakfast. He figured that Terri was still trying to 
recover from the orgasm that she had just experienced. 

He complimented himself as he made fresh orange juice in the blender, 
started the bacon frying in the big skillet, and broke a bunch of eggs into 
a bowl where he whipped them up with a fork, adding a little milk. He 
started the water in the teapot so they could have coffee and put slices of 
bread in the toaster. 

As he was setting the knives, forks, and spoons on top of the bar, Terri 
made her entrance from the bedroom, her golden hair brushed until it sparked 
with rich luster. She had found one of Bill's old terry cloth robes and had 
slipped into it. It made her look very small and defenseless, with the 
sleeves hanging loosely down over the ends of her fingertips. She rolled 
them up as she slid onto the bar stool. 

"While I'm gone, you can read the paper and figure out what you'd like to do 
today," Bill said, smiling at her. 

"When will you be back?" she asked. 

"A couple of hours or so, but you can plan on spending the rest of the day 
with me. As a matter-of-fact, I'd like to turn it into a regular thing," he 
said, confident that this would be well received. 

"You sure do say all the right things," she said, drinking her juice down in 
a couple of swallows and holding her glass out for more. 

Turning the wheel of the white VW sharply, Bill steered it up the narrow 
street of Beverly Glen to the California ranch style home owned by Gloria 
Davis. 

He had been running over make-believe conversations he would have with 
Millicent Martin and trying to figure out what her reaction would be when he 
gave her the news that he was playing for the whole loaf and not just some 
of the crumbs. 

He had just gone through reaction number four when he came abreast of the 
house and turned the car into the driveway. He parked, got out, and walked 
across the porch. As he rang the bell, he remembered the last time he had 
been there and stepped back to answer the metallic squawk box over the door. 
He hope there wouldn't be any wild scenes with the weeping willow Gloria 
Davis; he just wasn't ready for that kind of a scene this early in the day. 

Much to his surprise, the door opened with no preliminaries of 
identification through the metal box, and Millicent Martin was standing in 
the entrance way with a worried look on her face. 

"Well, Bill, you certainly did stretch out that hour and a half some. Would 
you like to have some lunch? Gloria and I were just sitting down at the 
table," she said, holding the door for him until he was safely in the 
entrance way. 

"No thanks, I just got up from breakfast myself. That's the reason that I'm 
late. But I will have some coffee with you, if you don't mind," he replied. 

"Fine," she said, leading the way to the dining room where Gloria Davis was 
sitting at the long table. She averted her eyes when Millicent and Bill 
entered the room. 

"That's enough of the dramatics, Gloria, now be civil, at least," Millicent 
said in a strong voice to Gloria. 

The slim blonde looked at Millicent, and then turned her gaze to Bill, 
nodding as she did so. 

"Here, Bill, sit down here, I'll get you a cup," Millicent offered. She was 
back in a second, carrying a large pot of coffee. She poured Bill a cup and 
then sat down, looking at him significantly. "Well, what's the problem?" 

"No problem at all, really. Terri is at my house right now. As a 
matter-of-fact, she was there all night, and I plan to make that a 
permanent, arrangement," Bill announced. 

"Well, that is surprising news. Tell me, has Terri already agreed to all of 
this? I mean, have you gone over the whole thing and worked it out 
together?" she asked. 

"Yes. The important thing is that she doesn't want to change executors for 
her estate and she has finally broken away from your influence and she wants 
to keep it that way." 

"Is this something you cooked up? I mean, her not wanting to testify in 
court to have the executors changed?" 

"No, she volunteered that information. As a matter-of-fact, she said she had 
only agreed with you when you kept harping on the bad job they were doing so 
that you would keep still. She told me last night that even if she went back 
to live with you she would not testify in court to have the executors for 
the estate changed," Bill said. 

"Shit!" Millicent spewed out. "The little bitch. And what other little 
things did my sweet niece whisper in your ear?" Millicent hissed through 
clenched teeth. 

"She said something about you not having a hold over her anymore and that 
she was here in Los Angeles to try and get her head straight; to try and 
find out who she really is and what her true values are. That's all, just 
things like that," Bill said honestly. 

"I see. And I suppose that you are going to be right by her side while she 
clears all these cobwebs out of her head and sees the light? That'll be just 
ducky; she sees the light and you collect the pot of gold. Well, listen, 
Billy boy, I'm not going to make it easy for you, you can count on that," 
said Millicent, staring at Bill with cold hard eyes. 

"Now wait just a minute," Bill said. "There's no reason to get all jerky and 
nervous. What gave you the idea that you were going to be left out in the 
cold? You turned me on to this deal and I plan to take care of you. When she 
told me that she wasn't going to testify, I just did what had to be done at 
the time." 

"And what was that, pray tell?" Millicent said sarcastically. 

"I turned her on and balled her," Bill answered frankly, hoping that his 
bluntness would give him an opportunity to leave with some grace. 

"Did she like it?" Millicent asked, looking at Gloria. 

"Well, she's still a little inexperienced, but I think she dug the scene." 

Millicent and Gloria again exchanged glances and then Millicent asked, "Is 
Terri still at your house?" 

"Yeah. I told her to wait around and we'd go out later on after I got back. 
Why?" 

"Well, I'd like to see her before I go back up North." 

"I don't know about that," Bill said. 

"I promise there'll be no big scenes, no lectures, no shouting, nothing. I'd 
just like to see her in your house. I want to make sure that she is really 
happy and that what you have said is true. Now, as her legal guardian, I 
don't think I'm asking too much. Even you must admit it is rather reasonable 
under the circumstances," Millicent argued. 

Bill thought for a minute, weighing all the possibilities, all of the 
ramifications of having Terri meet with her aunt. What the hell, he thought, 
I've got it made, why worry? The whole bag is sewn up tight. Nothing can 
queer the deal now. 

"Let's go," he said, standing up, leaving his untouched coffee cooling in 
the cup. 

The brakes squeaked as he wheeled his little car into the garage and pulled 
to a jarring halt. 

Quickly Bill jumped out of the car and ran around the other side to open the 
door for Millicent Martin. 

"Let me go first," he said, "kind of get her ready for the fact of your 
being here." 

"Okay. Whatever you think is best," she agreed cooperatively. 

He raced to the door, fumbled with his keys for a moment, and then swung the 
door open, calling out her name as he did so. 

"Terri!" 

The name echoed back to him from all the rooms of the house. He called 
again, but there was still no reply. By this time, Millicent Martin was 
standing behind him. 

"Maybe we'd better go in and see what's wrong," he suggested. 

They walked through the house, each room was examined with care. The 
bathroom, kitchen, the bedroom, where Bill noted Terri had apparently made 
the bed before splitting. 

They found the note in the living room, propped up against the book on Tarot 
and held upright by the Tarot deck. 

He read the round, careful handwriting: 

Dear Bill, Sorry I couldn't stay. You're really a nice cat, but I don't dig 
the scene. Thank you for straightening out my head about a couple of things 
though. You were really a big help. 

Regards, Tern 

When he looked up from the short note, Millicent was reading it over his 
shoulder. "Well," Bill said. 

"It makes sense," Millicent commented, looking intently at the note. 

"Maybe to you it makes sense, but to me it doesn't figure." 

"Listen, Bill, remember I told you that I could make Terri do what I wanted 
that I could control her if only I could see her?" 

"Yeah. She said something like that too." 

"Right. Do you know what that control was, Bill?" she said, not giving him 
time to answer, but going right on, "it was sex. Pure sex. I turned her on 
when she was fourteen. When she told you that she was coming down here to 
get her head straight about a few things, she was talking about having sex 
with boys. You took her to bed and made love to her and she ran out on you. 
Do you know why, Bill? Because she's out there right now, trying to find a 
little nelly chick just like herself. That's right, she's as queer as a 
three dollar bill. That was the control I had over her I could swing from 
both sides of the fence and I used it to turn her on." 

"Well, I'll be damned," Bill said, sitting down on the couch and holding his 
head in his hands. 

"It's not the end of the world," Millicent soothed, sitting down beside him 
and placing her hand on his thigh. "After all, we still have the rest of the 
afternoon." 


THE END
