The Very Private Secretary
by Karl Rockwood
(DBB-145)


INTRODUCTION 

The average American is supposed to be, first and foremost, a citizen of the 
most democratic country on earth-a person who, within reasonable limits, can 
choose exactly what he wants to be and what he wants to do. At the same 
time, our huge and highly successful commercial establishment has succeeded 
admirably in its self-appointed task of turning us into a nation of 
consumers-a captive audience whose choice is not whether to buy, but which 
product among a sea of colorfully advertised, heavily promoted items we will 
actually pay our money for. 

Commenting on this situation from her reasonably objective vantage point as 
writer for The Sunday Times of London, the perceptive critic Germaine Greer 
had the following to say: 

"Imagine, your job is to persuade folk to munch more of a particular brand 
of, say, codeine tablets. Yours not to fuss about whether they need the 
tablets, or whether the tablets can do them any good. Cheerfully the problem 
is posited: 'How to sell more of Xanadun?' And pat comes the answer: 'We 
must stimulate a demand for regular, repeated and if possible escalating 
dosages.' 

"In this spirit the advertising campaigns are organized; all problems of the 
organism are mustered under the heading tension. A logo is devised-perhaps a 
line drawing of the human (female usually) head and shoulders gripped in 
cruel bands of tension. 

"The most sinister aspect of the chatty, amoral style of the professional 
persuaders is that when they are forced to refer in a pronoun to the 
helpless, psychoanalyzed, dopey buyer of anything that is sold, that pronoun 
is usually she. 

"A habit-forming drug is a perfect commodity, and heroin, of which very few 
doses are enough to ensure the need for regular, escalating consumption, is 
the paragon. In the New York subways one may see beautifully designed, 
five-foot high posters showing in four colors, back-lit and immaculately 
photographed, all the beautiful drugs one may buy in any school playground. 
And above or below, that infallible sales gimmick, 'Don't.' 

"It is hard to believe that the New York antidrug campaign has been 
organized by an agency unaware of the persuasive power of their graphics and 
the perversity of their wording. 

"The machinery of advertising is geared to sell-it cannot be applied to 
extinguish an existent demand. It operates automatically in the same old 
way-'Buy, buy,' the heroin posters are really saying, 'and you too may be 
the possessor of this larger-than-life brawny arm, and this snazzy 
tourniquet. You too can be a hero and get your picture in the subway. Dig my 
gleaming syringe.'" 

This is very trenchant thinking, and an important message in itself. It 
treats seriously the important problem of how consumers are being influenced 
to buy things they don't need or even really want-things, indeed, that may 
be harmful to them. It considers the further complication that any 
advertising message will influence its recipients in a positive way; i.e., 
that they will go out and buy something, not resist buying it. But it 
ignores, to a large extent, the people who are creating those advertising 
messages, who are after all fallible human beings themselves. 

The Very Private Secretary is a novel-and, we feel, an important one-about 
the advertising business and the living, breathing people who work in it. 
Its protagonist is Reid Hartley, who enjoys an enviable reputation in the 
profession but lately has been in a severe slump. Somehow, the old glibness 
which enabled him to devise highly successful ad campaigns in the past has 
deserted him... and, perhaps, he has begun to question some of his own basic 
assumptions. Because of this, he has decided to take a three-week "working 
vacation" at Malibu Beach, where he hopes to come up with acceptable ideas 
for the Wonder-Lift bra and Gibbons toothpaste accounts. The work does not 
go well, however. 

The situation does not improve when he meets Mona Seagram, with whom he had 
a highly romantic affair when she was only fifteen years old. In fact, he 
starts to think of her constantly, and finds himself completely unable to 
concentrate on his work. But when Reid and Mona finally achieve a 
relationship that is both romantic and sexual, he suddenly begins to enjoy 
miraculous success again. Even so, there are human problems and conflicts 
that have to be ironed out, and therein lies a highly intriguing story.... 

There have been other important novels about the advertising business before 
this one: The Hucksters by Wakeman and Aurora Daunt by Wouk to name only two 
that come immediately to mind. But we, as publishers of Dansk Blue Books, 
think that this one stands on its own feet. It has some new insights to 
reveal about the people who work in advertising-and it shows those people as 
fully fleshed, three-dimensional human beings with their own fears, doubts, 
and worries. We think it is a very real achievement for author Karl 
Rockwood, and a book that every American consumer will profit by reading. 

The Publishers 

 Chapter One 

In all of his advertising copy writing, Reid Hartley felt torn between 
trying to be honest while, at the same time, selling the products he wrote 
about so that Mr. and Mrs. America would rush to their neighborhood stores 
and buy everything from toothpaste to brassieres, from chewing gum to toilet 
paper. It was a tough job but, even though it paid well, sometimes he wanted 
to chuck it all and say "fuck it." Also, sometimes he ran out of ideas. 
Sometimes he went dry. So now he sat working in the beachfront Malibu 
cottage, hoping this three-week "working vacation" might restore some of his 
old glibness that had taken him to the top of his profession. 

Dr. Smacko toothpaste whitens those teeth... brightens that smile... fetches 
sex contacts beyond the user's wildest dreams... opens the doorway to 
orgies, promotion on your job, raises the I. Q., eliminates all dreaded 
diseases and will even enable you to become a concert violinist if you so 
desire. Yes, just few brushings with Dr. Smacko and you too can perform in 
Carnegie Hall. Sound fantastic? Well, folks, it's really remarkably easy.... 

He was kidding now, of course-bullshitting because he could not think of a 
goddam thing to say. He was completely out of gas and he just sat there 
writing ridiculous ad copy to pass the time. In a way, it was relaxing. 

In your new 'Way-Out-Front bra, you'll be a new woman. Married? Your husband 
won't even recognize the flat-chested broad he married! Single? Well, girls, 
you can casually nudge eligible males with those nicely contoured mammaries 
-tits-(thanks to 'Way-Out-Front) and bring them to instant orgasm. Yes, 
those well-built and totally desirable millionaires you've been trying to 
attract will achieve instant orgasm -literally come in their pants and want 
only you... you... you! Have the most beautiful set of tits in your 
neighborhood... in the universe! Buy 'Way-Out-Front and score! 

The noise of the typewriter keys was becoming unbearable, and the 
rattan-furnished room seemed to be closing in on Reid Hartley, ex-ace 
copywriter. He withdrew the sheet of paper from the typewriter, wadded it 
up, and threw it in the waste basket. Then he went over and stared out at 
the sea. Whitecaps curled futilely in the dusk and he stared at them as he 
listened to the boom of the surf. The sound reminded him vaguely of the 
sounds of the New York subway he had known as a boy, except, of course, here 
there was a breeze and solitude and loneliness. And failure. He sighed, 
disgusted with the way the advertising campaigns were going. 

Three months ago he had quit his job at the Murdoch Agency and switched to 
the Luben Agency. The switch, he had thought, would bring about the 
necessary jolt he needed to return him to his former "creative" self. Ha! 
Shit! The Luben Ad Agency, it had occurred to Reid, would offer more in the 
way of interesting and challenging campaigns. They had more and better 
accounts. 

But he was still in a slump. The campaigns he had devised had not gone that 
well. In fact, out of the past five campaigns-all key accounts-three had 
been rejected, and the two that were acceptable had proved only adequate. 
Barely passable. So now he was in trouble at Luben's and growing weary of 
working under pressure and growing criticism and all that made up the 
advertising business. It was as though he had never before in his life 
devised a successful campaign and never would again. 

Reid stood a moment longer, staring at the sea. Then he slipped on his 
canvas jacket and fled from the room. It was a pleasant evening-cool, but 
not too cool-and he walked along the beach, shoulders slumped, scuffing his 
tennis shoes in the sand, hands in the pockets of his jacket and thought: 
All right, the ad campaigns have not done as well as expected but you're 
free. Actually, you don't have to go anywhere in particular. You don't have 
to be anyone in particular. You were successful for a while-very successful 
-and you've got plenty of money in the bank. So why tear yourself up? Relax, 
baby, relax. You don't have to humble yourself to anybody. Nobody. Screw 
'em. 

He passed a few people on the beach and wondered if they thought he was a 
bum and, for just a moment, he wished he had a long, navel-length beard. 
Suddenly he straightened his shoulders. Damn it, he thought, there are 
plenty of good campaigns in me yet. 

He had walked perhaps a mile when he came to a huge cluster of rocks. At 
night, the beach was usually fairly dark, only the porchlights of the 
beachfront houses illuminating small patches of sand, but since recent 
muggings (rumor had it that a body was found near the rocks a few months 
ago) a kind of floodlight had been installed up near the coast highway to 
light the rocks at night. The rocks presented something of an obstacle. Reid 
went up the incline to the highway and walked another quarter mile or so 
until he came to a small antique shop. He would have passed the store but he 
sighted Mona Seagram, a beautiful brunette with long, straight hair. Mona 
could not be over eighteen, maybe younger, and he barely recognized her. It 
had been nearly two years since he had last seen her. She was the daughter 
of wealthy Cecil Seagram, the head of a rival ad agency Reid had been 
friendly with for several years. Reid had heard she had dropped out of 
college, much to her distinguished father's disappointment, and had taken up 
a somewhat "artsy" life. 

Reid entered the shop and stood studying her from a distance. Yes, he was 
positive it was Mona Seagram-the same Mona Seagram who had blatantly played 
sex games with him when she had been only fifteen! 

He vividly recalled that afternoon in the Seagrams' backyard swimming pool. 
He had been divorced barely a year, and Mona's father had invited him over 
for the afternoon to discuss enlisting him in the Seagram Agency. Cecil's 
offer had been a good one, but he had been reluctant to make a change. 
Things were going too well where he was. They had been chatting out on the 
patio and watching the already voluptuous and extremely well-developed Mona 
paddle about the pool in her skimpy bikini, when Cecil received an urgent 
telephone call that had taken him away for several hours. He had promised to 
be back as soon as possible, but his absence proved just long enough for his 
delectable young daughter to lose her virginity. Mona's mother had passed 
away while Mona was a little girl and so there had been absolutely no 
interference that afternoon. None whatsoever. 

As soon as Cecil Seagram had departed, young Mona had emerged dripping from 
the pool and flopped into the lounge chair beside Reid. "You're 
nice-looking," Mona had said, running her eyes peculiarly over his body. 

He had thought her forwardness mere naivete or a product of his imagination 
at first, but he was soon to learn differently. "Thank you," he had said. 
"That's a very nice compliment to pay an older man like me." 

"Older?" she had repeated, smiling coquettishly. "You're not as old as my 
daddy." 

"No, no," he said. "I guess not." He wondered just what her father's age had 
to do with their conversation. Embarrassed yet, despite himself, he found 
himself sexually drawn to this young beauty. He restrained himself mightily. 
After all, she was the daughter of Cecil Seagram and he knew he dare not 
permit himself any hanky-panky with the daughter of a man who was a giant in 
the advertising game. With effort, he avoided staring at her ripe curves, 
the full breasts with the nipples so apparent through her wet bikini halter. 

"Have many boyfriends?" he found himself inquiring. "I imagine you have 
quite a few male admirers?" He laughed nervously, aware that his inquiry was 
not without sexual implications. 

"Admirers, yes," she replied. "Boyfriends?" She shrugged. "Who needs them? 
I-I have Daddy." 

"Well, yes, naturally," Reid said. "But that's not quite the same, is it?" 

Then, staring directly at his crotch, she blinked her long lashes and said, 
"Isn't it?" 

Her boldness had his heart pounding insanely. Could he possibly be 
misinterpreting her meaning? Was she suggesting something incestuous with 
the highly renowned and distinguished Cecil Seagram? And why was she staring 
directly at his prick that way-her eyes filled with a lust and desire 
incomprehensible in a girl of her tender years? In spite of his efforts at 
control, he found his rod growing within his bathing suit, jutting up and 
protruding hard against the cloth so that it was painfully apparent. He 
crossed his hands on his lap to hide his full erection and directed his 
attention at the landscape, the city of Beverly Hills below, at anything 
that would dissipate his aroused organ. 

"I can see you're twice as big as Daddy," Mona said. "You don't have to hide 
it. I think it's pretty. Would you take it out so I can see it?" 

At first, Reid had been dumbstruck by her directness. Finally, when he had 
regained his composure, he managed to say, "Mona, I don't think this-this 
kind of conversation is proper between us. Your father, I'm sure, would not 
approve." 

She broke up, giggling, and then went over and sat down beside him. Their 
bare legs touched and, once again, Reid felt his hard-on jerk to its full 
length. "Daddy's been playing around with me for years," she said, stroking 
the bulge in his bathing suit. "Ummm, you do have a nice big one, Reid. And 
it's so-so hard. Yes, Daddy and I have lots of fun playing with each other. 
I mean, he doesn't actually stick it in-at least not in my pussy-but we play 
lots of fun games that feel nice and he taught me how to come and feel all 
tingly and I jack him off sometimes and watch his stuff spout out-just like 
a whale. Do you spurt just like a whale, too?" 

Once again, despite himself, Reid could not remove her hand that caressed 
his scrotum. Her fingers were running maddeningly over his scrotum, tickling 
the length of his rigid shaft and fondling its dribbling head. He could feel 
the dampness, the slippery feeling of semen between his abdomen and the head 
of his bone-hard penis as the young hand massaged and worked with incredible 
experience. So the dignified and respectable Cecil Seagram had been fooling 
around with his own daughter for years! His brain told him that this 
delicious young thing beside him was lying, but her experienced fingers 
removed all doubt. 

She removed her bikini top then to let him stare at her twin, ripe titties 
and her small hand continued its mission of pleasure. "Nobody can see us 
here, Reid," she said. "Honest. We can do anything we want. Absolutely 
anything. I told you that Daddy never actually stuck it inside me. I-I'm 
simply dying of curiosity. Would you be the first one to show me? Please?" 

When Reid spoke, his voice was all trembling. "Do you approach many 
of-of-your-father's friends this way?" 

She shook her lovely head. "No, you're the first. I wanted to wait for the 
right one. Would you fuck me, Reid? Would you show me what it's really like? 
Daddy just does it to me in the bottom and-well, it sort of hurts even 
though he uses Vaseline. When he just puts it between my legs but doesn't 
really stick it up inside, it nearly drives me crazy. It may feel good for 
him, but it just frustrates me even though he finishes me with his finger 
and makes me come." 

There was pathetic, pained look on her beautiful features. "I'm sort of 
virgin who isn't a virgin, if you know what I mean. I guess Daddy's afraid 
of making me pregnant, so he never sticks his thing inside me, but he's used 
a vibrator that looks sort of like a cock on me a couple of times. What I 
mean is, I wouldn't bleed or anything. You could-you could get your cock in 
me, all right." 

"Oh, my God," Reid said, covering his face with his hands. 

Mona, her bare titties glistening in the sun, tugged at his trunks and in a 
moment she had them down to his knees and was staring enraptured at his 
hard-on while rolling it between her soft hands. "It really is a beauty, Mr. 
Hartley," she said. "Prettier than any of the dollies I ever had." 

Why she suddenly reverted to calling him by his last name, Reid did not 
know. He only knew that he was going to do everything Miss Seagram desired 
and more and he hoped to sweet Jesus her father didn't return home while he 
was doing it. God, no. Anything but that! Still, he rationalized, Cecil 
Seagram was more at fault than himself. Cecil Seagram had indoctrinated his 
own daughter to the world of sexual delight without permitting her the 
ultimate delight. Cecil owed it to his daughter to fuck her, correct? Of 
course. He, Reid Hartley, was merely fulfilling the game the dirty old 
man-the genius of the advertising business-had begun. And if Cecil Seagram 
should arrive and find his daughter getting fucked and sucked, just what the 
hell could he do about it? Not a goddam thing.... 

"I want to kiss it the way Daddy likes it," she said. "Okay?" 

Reid reached up and began kneading her firm, young breasts. "Okay," he 
gasped. "Whatever you say." 

"I've been just aching to do this to somebody besides Daddy," she said. 
"This is going to be something I'll never forget. I just know it." 

She dropped to her knees beside him then and held his legs close to her 
cheek. Then she slowly began folding his enormous penis, rubbing it against 
her hot cheek. He could not get the idea from his mind that she was about to 
munch on a male cock other than her father's for the first time. He, Reid 
Hartley, would be the recipient of all that Cecil Seagram had patiently 
taught his daughter. In a way, it would be a kind of initiation-no, a 
post-graduate course. She began kissing his erect organ, kneeling there 
beside him under the afternoon sun, and he watched as her full lips showered 
his rod with wet kisses. 

"Mona," he breathed, trying valiantly for the last time to dissuade her, 
although he would probably have gone insane if she had stopped, "this-this 
isn't necessary." He began lifting her, trying feebly to pull her away from 
his aroused organ before she committed herself completely. "You-you really 
shouldn't be doing this, Mona... it... isn't-" 

He broke off as she took the full length of his prick into her mouth, so 
that it seemed to descend down deep into her throat, and began nursing, 
nibbling at the big head, kissing his balls and fluttering her tongue up and 
down until the engorged rod became like a rock-hard salami in her mouth. She 
backed away briefly and stared at the giant, erect hunk of meat lovingly. 
"Oh, I wish you had been the one to teach me," she whimpered. "I wish you 
had been the one to teach me instead of Daddy." 

"Nobody... ever had... to... teach you anything, Mona," Reid moaned. "God, 
you must have always known... you... had to... you always knew." 

It was true. She was, as they say, a natural born cocksucker. He began 
tugging at the back of her head, setting the tempo, running his big hands 
through her still-damp, dark hair as he fucked her hot, lapping mouth. She 
was kneeling there, worshipping at the altar of his penis, drawing his big 
prick deep into her throat, moving slowly at first so that he could watch 
his glistening organ rub against the folds of her full lips as it penetrated 
and withdrew, slid noisily and wetly in and out of her starving mouth. 
"Suck, baby. Suck," he said. 

Cecil Seagram, I love you even if you are a rotten son of a bitch, he 
thought. The last remnant of his earlier reluctance vanished as Mona's soft 
young hands groped gently at his testicles and her head began bobbing 
faster, increasing the speed of her mouth slipping back and forth over his 
foreskin and down as far as she could go toward the thick base of his stiff 
prong. "Mona, baby. Oh, yeah," he murmured, not thinking about her father, 
not thinking about anything except the hungry mouth that was driving him out 
of his mind. "The best ever, baby. Oh, yes... suck it hard... yeah...." 

Now Reid clutched Mona's head hard with one hand and palmed her indented 
cheek with the other, clutched her desperately, harder, harder still, as she 
worked feverishly to bring him to completion. Once, she glanced up at him as 
though to check his facial expression, to be certain she was performing the 
service to his satisfaction. Then, satisfied that her laving tongue was 
delivering the pleasure she hoped it was, she resumed her labor once again 
with even greater intensity. She sucked harder, harder Reid guessed than she 
had ever sucked any cock before, including her father's. 

Reid began rotating his hips frantically, gyrating and driving pistonlike 
into the tight, wet mouth, slamming his prick home mercilessly again and 
again, while the nymphet dining at his genitals mewed. Her saliva and his 
love fluid were dribbling down her chin and onto his hands that squeezed her 
breasts. It was likely that this would be the one and only time he would 
ever stick his cock into this young mouth and, even though he knew he was 
taking advantage, stealing this orgasm from her tutor, her father, he wanted 
to make the most of it. Besides, she loved it. He could tell. Her father had 
developed her latent cocksucking ability to a virtuoso state. She was 
incomparable! He had never felt anything like it before. She knew just when 
to slow, when to speed. She knew all the sensitive places. She knew when to 
twirl her tongue, when to move it horizontally, vertically. 

It was pitiful to think that this girl who had been instructed so patiently, 
nurtured to this state of unique skill, would one day no doubt practice her 
art on a mere youth-an unappreciative boy who could not possibly appreciate 
her. Whoever the lucky youth was, he hoped he appreciated her! Good God, 
yes! Oh, yes! 

Suddenly, while the currents of unspeakable pleasure surged through his 
body, he hated every male who would ever enjoy Mona Seagram. Now, yes now, 
he was getting ready to spew his sperm, let it go gushing forth. The signs 
were unmistakable. Actually, for the past few minutes he had felt as if he 
were experiencing one continuous orgasm-so intense was the pleasure. 

She seemed to sense his approaching orgasm, for her throat opened and her 
tempo speeded in anticipation. Miraculous! he thought. Here was a girl who 
had begged him to fuck her, pleaded with him to show her how a real prick 
felt inside her vagina, and yet she was so well trained by her father to 
deliver delight, so attuned to the male's, need to complete, to finish now 
if he pleased, that she was willing to forego her own desire for his! She 
was drawing on his organ as though it were a flesh straw. It was apparent 
that she was ready and willing to drink his fluid if he so desired. He was 
tempted. But just for an instant. With a mighty effort of self-control, he 
tore her mouth from his bursting prick before he came and lay panting, 
staring at her closed eyes and still nursing mouth. 

"Let's go inside," he said, trying to calm himself. "Let's go inside 
someplace soft... where we can fuck. You-still want to fuck, don't you?" 

"Oh, yes," she said, opening her eyes. "I'm-I'm dripping wet. I've got to 
know. I have to know. I want your cock inside me, Oh, yes!" 

He took her by the hand, then remembering, removed his trunks entirely and 
led her inside. It was cool, the air conditioning humming almost inaudibly 
inside the luxurious house. "There-on the couch?" he asked, his cock still 
stiff. 

"I'll get a towel," she said, and literally ran from the room. In a moment, 
she returned with a king-size bath towel and spread it on the couch. Then, 
like a child anticipating a trip to Disneyland or some exciting new 
experience, she lay down so that her buttocks were squarely in the center of 
the towel. "Okay, I'm ready," she said. 

In spite of his excitement, Reid had to smile. "Mona, dear," he said, "it 
isn't a matter of just-just sticking this thing inside you. If you don't 
mind, there should be certain preliminaries." 

"Oh, yes-sure," she said, sitting up. "I-I didn't mean for you just to-jam 
it in. I'm so excited I guess I'm acting crazy. Forgive me?" 

This time Reid knelt down beside Mona. He smiled. If this was to be her 
first actual fuck, he wanted it to be a good one. First fucks were 
important, whether for male or female. No question about that. A first fuck 
could influence a arson's sexual outlook for a lifetime. "Yes, I forgive 
you," he said. "You're beautiful, Mona. You know that, don't you?" 

"Yes, I'm told I'm pretty. Everybody says so. It must be true." 

With one hand, Reid began gently massaging her breasts and, with the other, 
he lightly stroked her thigh and toyed with the hem of her bikini bottoms. 
"No, I didn't say pretty, Mona," he breathed. "I said beautiful. Men 
probably dream of fucking you. What you're about to give me is important, my 
gorgeous pet. Neither of us will ever forget it. I just hope I make you 
happy. You have a delectable body and you're gorgeous and ripe beyond 
belief." 

He went on that way-talking to her as he petted her, preparing her. He 
wanted her cunt juicy and receptive. He wanted this delicious girl's first 
screwing to be a beautiful thing for her. He had not planned to make love to 
the daughter of his friend, but she had pleaded and he had become aroused 
and now he could not turn back. He wondered what she was thinking. He 
wondered if she weren't apprehensive... he wondered just what was on her 
mind.... 



God, he's really going to do it, Mona thought. He's going to put that 
beautiful hard prick of his inside me and I'll know just how it feels. Oh, 
his hands on my breasts and playing with my leg-they're driving me mad. He 
won't be like Daddy. He's not going to play with me only. He's really going 
to put his prick inside my pussy and fuck me! God, I can hardly wait. It was 
nice sucking on his big hard thing, but now I want it between my legs. 
Really up and inside and with his bottom bouncing, the way dogs and animals 
fuck. Oh, yes. Fuck me, Reid... fuck me... fuck me... fuck me.... 

He was kneeling there beside her, his tongue in her ear and whispering nice 
things about how beautiful she was and that she was a prize. That was 
nice-not like Daddy who always used four-letter words. The four-letter words 
excited her too, but this was different. It was really nice. 

His hot tongue was nibbling at her breasts now, blowing on the nipples and 
tenderly licking them, coaxing them erect, then drawing on them, giving each 
one an equal share. "Oh, Reid," she said. "You're such a wonderful lover... 
won-der-ful...." 

"I just want you to enjoy this, sweet. When I fuck you, I want it to feel 
good for you." 

"I know it will, Reid. Oh, I know it will." 

After a long time, he gently tugged at her bikini bottoms, pulling them down 
over her ankles until she was completely naked. She stretched, waiting, 
passive, ready, kittenish. 

"I'm glad I'm not a virgin," she said. "I mean-not a real one." 

"Me, too," Reid said. "It's much nicer this way. You can just relax and let 
me do it to you." 

Mona lay back, spreading her legs slightly now as she felt his strong hands 
inch ever so slowly up her leg toward her waiting and eager love hole. Oh, 
if only he knew how anxious she was for him to reach her pussy. It was 
taking him forever to reach it. He was kissing her tummy now, descending 
slowly as his hand inched ticklingly up toward her cunt. Yes, her cunt that 
wanted his big prick inside it. She could see his prick. It still stood out 
straight and stiff as a board. Would it really get in her? Would it ever 
really plunge itself inside her? Would her father come home and ruin 
everything? Would she be denied this fucking that she wanted and craved more 
than anything in the world-had wanted and craved more than anything for so 
long now? She could not resist it. She reached down and grasped his swollen, 
dripping member and slowly jacked it as he kissed very near her pubic mound 
and his hand reached the cheeks of her ass and then finally-oh God, finally, 
yes-settled there and began touching her dripping cunt lips that-begged to 
be parted and pierced by the big hunk of dribbling meat she clutched in her 
hand. 

Oh, no! she thought, as he ascended once again to her breasts. Was he 
teasing her? His hand that had stroked her cunt lips also slid down to her 
knee and played with its underside. She listened to his noisy feast at her 
breasts and kept her legs spread in hopes that he would soon return to her 
gushing vagina. She could feel the lubricant streaming from her cunt, 
drenching the towel beneath her ass, wetting it. She was growing weaker and 
weaker with desire-insane desire. The excitement and anticipation was 
becoming too much for her to bear. 

"Reid! Reid. Please hurry up and fuck me, Reid. Please!" she begged. 

"In a moment, baby. In a moment," he said, panting. "You don't want to rush 
these things. I'm not your father." 

He had conquered every innate desire to resist a male-any male. Yes, that's 
what he had done. She was putty. She was whimpering, pitiful, pliable putty 
and if he didn't hurry up and fuck her soon she would die, die, die for lack 
of fucking. Yes, die because she had to be fucked now! 

Then, suddenly, he had mercy. He began stroking her greasy-slick cunt lips, 
her tingling labia and finally her clitoris, her craving nerve center of 
desire and need. Soon he would squirt his love juice from his beautiful 
balls deep inside her. 'Way, 'way up. She didn't care if she got pregnant. 
She didn't care about anything except his shaft up inside the dark spasming 
cunt of her. 

Now the beautiful moment she had been waiting for (all her life, it seemed) 
at last arrived. He lay alongside her on the couch, his hard prick pressed 
against her tummy, and she encircled his head lovingly in her arms and 
licked his face all over-his cheeks, his ears, his eyes. For the moment, she 
was transported beyond reality, in a sort of trance, the hot male meat 
against her soon to go where it was meant to go. No playing around; nothing 
short of fucking; no vibrator or her daddy just placing his thing between 
her legs and then not really sticking it in there but only rubbing against 
where it was supposed to go stick, stick, stick, with her legs really around 
a plunging ass, really riding a pole, really feeling it penetrate and crash, 
crash, crash inside her vagina. 

She spread her legs wider, one leg up on top of the couch, the other on the 
floor. To her surprise, he did not begin fucking her. Instead, he slid down 
so that he could lick her pussy. Did they all like to lick girls' pussies? 
Daddy did. Maybe they all did. Well, that was all right. It did feel awfully 
good. As long as he fucked her afterward, she didn't mind... ummm... no... 
not at all... ummm... his tongue was better than Daddy's, too! 

He had his hands beneath her buttocks, making a kind of platform of her 
cunt, and they were demanding and rough and digging into the cheeks of her 
ass as he lapped and gorged himself on her sopping wet pussy... ummm, yes... 
it did feel good... oh! 

She began thrusting and rotating her hips, writhing to meet his hungry 
tongue, his open and closing mouth that drank there noisily at her flesh 
fountain and probed her bottom. Even Daddy had never done that to her bottom 
with his tongue before! "Ummm... so good...." she moaned. 

She began to tremble all over as he ingested her crotch. Encouragingly, she 
ran her nails through his steel-gray hair. "Yes, yes," she heard herself 
purring as she tossed her head from side to side in complete abandon. His 
tongue was paradise there! Heaven! But she would have to make him stop 
before she came! 

Finally, she took his cheeks in her hands and lifted his head from her 
dripping vagina. His breath was thunder in her ear and she could feel his 
erect, wet penis against her inner thigh. 

"Fuck me, Reid," she begged. "You've got to do it to me now!" 

"All right," he groaned. "Oh, that tight, little snatch." 

She could feel the head of his rigid cock begin to probe as he ran it up and 
down the length of her cunt, preparing her for his entrance. She reached 
down and gripped his hunk of gristle hard. She wanted to plunge it into 
herself, but she guessed he knew what he was doing and so she let him 
continue making her pussy even more mushy. 

"Oh, Reid... Reid... fuck me, Reid...." 

As she held onto the hard cock, jacking it slightly, she was overcome with 
the beauty and wonder of the mighty male organ. It was beautiful the way 
they sprang to life-grew from limp, docile waiting things to conquering 
ramrods; the way they got stiff and engorged and wanted to push and force 
their way between a girl's legs, stick her and send spasms through her 
entire body. Daddy had denied her the ultimate pleasure, but this man with 
his gorgeous hard tool was going to send currents and ripples of delight 
through her vagina that would be far better than any finger or vibrator. She 
could hardly wait. Her eyes became bleary with lust as she squeezed the big 
member in her hand, realizing that in a matter of seconds it would be 
pumping and slamming within her. 

Oh, God! Its big, hot, hunting head was parting her cunt lips now, nudging 
and wedging its way into her contracting and expanding channel. Impulsively, 
she let her hand slide down to its thick base and clenched the trunk of the 
meaty monster. Then she began groping his immense balls and thought of his 
love fluid inside his flesh sack. Soon, he would spurt that fluid inside her 
waiting slit and it would be heaven, heaven! Why didn't he hurry and jam the 
whole thing in? Didn't he know that she could accommodate him without all 
this unnecessary preliminary play? Yes, right now she could accommodate a 
stallion, she thought. 

"Yes, that's it, Mona," he was saying. "Rub my balls. Good girl. That's it, 
baby...." 

"Are you going to shove it in pretty soon, Reid? When are you going to fuck 
my pussy? Can't you tell it's ready? It's ready!" 

"Yes," he breathed. "It's like a hot oven-a slick, hot oven. It's like 
pushing into a slick, hot oven." 

Now he began feeding her a little bit of his prick at a time, savoring the 
delicious entrance into the waiting depths of her, deeper, deeper, and at 
last she felt the muscled giant totally imbedded within her silken sheath. 
She began pumping slowly, arching her back so that her pelvis bent the hard 
cock slightly, so that she could feel and enjoy a real cock in her pussy for 
the first time. It was so hot! Hot like a poker! Hot and alive and she was 
being plugged with a big, male cock-a spear of flesh-working in and out, in 
and out while he fuck-talked in her ear, telling her how good it felt and 
clutched her ass cheeks hard and manipulated her so that he could touch and 
stab the places he wanted. 

Oh, God! It was wonderful... wonderful... fucking.... 

"You're nice and tight, baby," he was saying, and then he went on and on 
telling her how tight and hot her cunt was and how much he loved having her 
smooth legs around him while he slammed his cock into her love hole hard, 
first gently, then hard again. 

Reid's organ worked steadily inside her eager vagina... pressing, searching, 
stabbing. Once, Mona put her hand on her tummy. She could actually feel the 
stiff rod moving inside her! As their tempo increased, Mona became almost 
delirious at the sound of the smacking, plopping noises their clashing 
pelvises emitted as the friction increased and crotch rubbed crotch in a 
frenzy of pleasure-& fuck-frenzy of pleasure! 

"Every inch, Reid!" Mona screamed. "Plug me, Reid! Plug my hole!" She wanted 
it all-every inch and pore of the pole that poked and tore savagely between 
her legs. It was sheer ecstasy lying there flat on her back, his hands 
guiding her ass, and she knew she belonged this way with her legs spread 
wide apart while the wonderful, wonderful prick had its way with her... 
jabbing... jabbing.... 

When her climax began approaching, it was entirely different from anything 
she had ever experienced before. Daddy had used his finger, his mouth, a 
vibrator, on her. He had even fucked her bottom and made her come with his 
finger on her clit at the same time. But this real flesh cock inside her 
brought a new and intense feeling that was beyond her wildest dreams. 

She was getting closer and closer. The pleasure waves began surging-growing 
stronger, stronger. She felt the vague tingle-no, it was more than a 
tingle-spreading slowly through her vagina, her rectum"running up and down 
her backbone, rippling crazily through her womb. The unspeakably 
indescribably feeling began engulfing her entire body as Reid's shaft 
plunged on. He must have sensed that she was nearing completion, for he 
drove savagely now to the accompaniment of her near-hysterical 
breath-whines, her pitiful whimpers. 

"Stab me!" she screamed, straightening her legs slightly and locking her 
ankles behind his knees. "Stab me hard! Harder! Harder!" 

"Coming? Coming? Huh? You coming, Mona?" he asked, his voice rasping and 
hoarse as he queried her again and again. 

She could not answer in any language of this earth, because at that instant 
the lustful lightning struck and she heard her own voice, foreign to her 
ears, begin 'way down deep and she emitted one long "Ohhhhhhhhh!" 

Reid plunged harder then, hurtling toward completion himself, and they both 
reached the heights simultaneously and crested to incredible fulfillment. 
Mona felt as though she had died a little. She lay there sobbing and 
shuddering out the aftermath of the most intense and exquisite physical 
pleasure of her life. The thought that she had a lifetime of such pleasure 
to look forward to made everything seem worthwhile. Her body, she knew now, 
was an instrument that could be plucked to produce pleasure so intense it 
could not be expressed in words. As she lay shuddering there, the two of 
them still tightly clasped together and gasping, she knew that from this day 
forth the male organ-for her, at least-would be a kind of God. Nothing else 
in the world, she imagined, could deliver the kind of deep feeling she had 
just now experienced. Cock, prick, penis, ad infinitum. These were magic 
words that represented the thing she would seek the rest of her life.... 

Still, she felt vaguely uneasy for allowing herself to feel this pleasure, 
and this puzzled her. It had felt better than anything. There was nothing 
wrong with fucking. Why then did this sudden feeling of guilt assault her? 
Slowly, trying to dismiss this uneasy feeling from her mind, she released 
her hold on Reid and sighed. She could feel his organ shrinking slowly 
within her vagina. His prick had completed its mission and now it was 
withdrawing to rest-to do its work another day. 

After a few minutes, Reid kissed her affectionately, withdrew his semi-rigid 
organ from her cunt and collapsed beside her. The towel beneath them was wet 
where Mona's buttocks had lain. Mona sat up then, slipped on her bathing 
suit, and said, "Well, I guess we'd better look presentable in case Daddy 
returns, huh?" 

"Yes, I suppose you're right," Reid said, and then: "Mona, it was beautiful. 
I mean it. I hope it was-was all right for you, too. You did come, didn't 
you?" 

She smiled, patting his cheek. "What do you think, you nut? Of course, I 
came. It was wonderful, Reid. Thank you. I'll never, never, never, forget 
you. You're the first man who ever did this to me, you know. Whew! I never 
dreamed fucking could feel that good. Daddy? Well, he was just child's 
play." 

They both laughed then at her choice of the phrase, "child's play." Reid 
pulled his trunks on then over his still semi-rigid penis and they went back 
out to the patio and sat by the pool. They took the soiled towel with them, 
and when the distinguished and pompous Cecil Seagram returned nearly an hour 
later they were chatting innocently about nothing. 

Chapter Two 

So now Reid Hartley stood in the Malibu Beach antique shop staring at Mona 
Seagram and remembering their lovemaking of several years ago that afternoon 
in Cecil Seagram's living room. It seemed incredible that he had been her 
first real lover-that he had actually made love to a fifteen-year-old-but it 
was true. Still, he hadn't actually deflowered her. Old Cecil Seagram had 
taken care of that, or at least the mechanics of deflowering her. 

Mona hadn't noticed him as yet. She held a small vase and studied it, 
tilting her head from side to side as though trying to decide whether or not 
to buy it. She had changed quite a lot. Was this really the same Mona 
Seagram who had begged him to fuck her several years ago? Could this 
possibly be the same eager teenager who had licked his penis outside by the 
swimming pool? Yes, despite her gaunt look and lack of makeup, it was 
definitely Mona. She wore hippie attire-a leather Indian outfit with a 
beaded headband about her forehead. 

Oh, how they had rutted that afternoon-fucked so naturally and without 
regard for the consequences! Actually, she had been the first so-called 
virgin he had ever had the pleasure of sinking his meat into and, often 
during these past few years, he had experienced fantasies in which he 
relived that afternoon's sexual encounter. Several times, when restless at 
night, he had let his mind wander back to that afternoon, recreated the 
sounds of her whimpers in his ear, the feel of her firm, young legs 
encircling him, and he had masturbated violently in an effort to bring back 
vividly the memory of fucking her. In fact, only last week while soaping 
himself in the shower, he had thought of her and then jacked off with the 
lather under the spraying water. 

It was not as if he were a celibate. He had slept with plenty of women since 
that afternoon with Mona. But there would always be a special place in his 
heart (balls?) for her. Yes, secretly he adored her, but circumstances and 
their age difference had made it impossible for him to contact her since 
that fateful day. 

So now here she was: Mona Seagram, the girl he had jacked off over just last 
week. Weird. Both of them here at Malibu Beach. Really weird. He, Reid 
Hartley, thirty-six. Mona Seagram, seventeen, or maybe even eighteen now. 
Still a child, but looking a hell of a lot different. 

His pulse quickened as he stepped over to the shelf lined with vases, ash 
trays, lamps, various objects of art. He decided to be casual. "Hi there, 
Mona," he said, and he realized that they were the first words he had spoken 
all day. 

She turned her pretty but gaunt face and smiled. The smile had not changed. 
It was still little-girlish-a trace of innocence combined with mischief. 

"What have you been doing?" he asked. "I heard you'd gone sort of artsy." 

"Yes, I suppose you would hear that sort of thing from my father's 
associates-people in the advertising business, I mean. The fact is, I've 
just begun to live. I've taken up painting. Not the kind they teach in 
college. I mean, serious painting." 

"No kidding. Great. So are you doing any good with it?" He wanted to keep 
the conversation light, but he found himself uncontrollably running his eyes 
hungrily over her. "I mean-how are you doing?" 

"Fairly well. I'm enjoying myself." 

"Well, that's wonderful," Reid said. "Really wonderful. I'm glad you're 
doing what you want. Doing what you really like is important, isn't it?" 

"What are you doing?" she asked. "Still going around seducing teenage 
girls?" 

He stared at her, puzzled. "That's funny," he said. "I had the impression it 
was the other way around. I resisted valiantly to no avail, if you recall." 

They both laughed. "Yes, I recall," she admitted. "So what are you doing?" 

What he'd been doing was a sensitive area for an ad writer who had 
apparently lost his touch. Writing successful ads was one thing. Writing 
unsuccessful ads and devising floppo campaigns was quite another thing. 

"Oh, I'm still fooling around with the advertising business," he said. 
"Right now, I'm here for a little vacation. By myself." 

Mona shook her head. "Good God! The advertising business; what a phony 
racket! What are you promoting these days?" 

"The usual. You know. Believe it or not, right now I'm trying to come up 
with an idea for a brassiere account." 

"Brassieres! Have you ever worn one? What do you really know about 
brassieres?" 

"Well, I haven't actually worn one, of course, but I can use my imagination, 
can't I? I don't have to eat dog food to sell it, right?" Reid wished they 
could drop the subject. 

"Hmmm," Mona said, frowning. "I still don't see how you can write about 
brassieres if you've never worn one. I don't see how you can be very 
convincing, frankly." 

"Okay, give me yours and I'll try it on. For you I'll become a 
transvestite." 

"I gave them up," she said, trying hard to smile. 

Reid forced a laugh. Something about her frightened him. She seemed so 
intense, so damned contrary and artsy. "Well, so you're painting now," he 
said. He didn't know what else to say. 

"Yes, and I write poetry, too. I assure you that my poetry doesn't in any 
way resemble advertising drivel." 

Reid vaguely remembered hearing that Mona was living with a musician or a 
sculptor or something, but he had dismissed it as idle gossip. "Well, are 
you married, or working, or what?" 

"No, I haven't worked for some time now. My father's offered to give me 
whatever I want, but I'd rather not be obligated. I just work long enough to 
save a little money. Then Vincent and I are able to clothe ourselves, eat, 
and pay the rent. We both do creative work. He's a sculptor. Of course, I 
was in the hospital for a while." 

"You were?". 

Mona explained that for a long time she hadn't eaten properly-"just 
sandwiches and junky things" and she had let herself get "run down." She 
asked him not to tell her father about her hospitalization and he promised 
he would not. 

She went on talking somewhat bitterly, attacking the Establishment, 
advertising, everything, and Reid found himself growing more and more 
uneasy. She seemed to be enjoying talking about her recent illness, her 
great departure from the world of her famous father, Cecil Seagram, and her 
great sacrifice in the name of Art. He wanted to reach out and shake her 
until her teeth rattled, shake the pallor from her face and recreate the 
same bright-eyed girl with the long hair that he had made love to several 
years ago. She had been so mischievous and full of life that day they had 
fucked and even though he had felt some guilt after that encounter he wished 
he could take her back in time and spread her legs and fuck her cunt again. 
He had the strange idea that what she needed was a good fucking and that he 
should be the one to do the job. 

She apparently had Vincent but Vincent didn't seem to be what she needed, 
and so naturally he fancied himself her savior-the prick with golden wings 
to restore her to normality. She had been so beautiful, so innocent. What 
had happened? Had her unusual sexual relationship with her father turned her 
sour? Possibly. At any rate, now she was living with some freak named 
Vincent. She had holed herself up somewhere here at Malibu Beach and was 
ruining her health. It was crazy. Her father was a goddam millionaire, for 
chrissake! 

"... mainly I learned that you must take care of your body," she was saying. 
"You have to eat properly and get exercise. Also, as far as drugs go, it's 
best not to get strung out on reds. I've given drugs up entirely now. Let me 
tell you something." 

"They're closing," Reid said, noticing the shopkeeper lowering the blinds. 

His head reeling, Reid followed Mona outside. God, she still looked good, 
despite her ordeal! The curves and swells of her body were something to see 
as she walked. And that pert little ass. Nice. He could still remember 
vividly holding onto it and driving his prick into her seething little 
orifice. 

They stood in the parking lot of the shop that fronted Pacific Coast Highway 
and talked. As Mona chattered on, Reid admired her braless, jutting breasts 
beneath the leather top of her Indian outfit. Her diet certainly hadn't 
affected her tits! 

"You may not realize it, Reid, but my sexual relationship with my father was 
somewhat traumatic. Not only was it unsatisfying, but it was-well, abnormal. 
I didn't feel any real guilt about it because in having sex games with him I 
felt superior. He is a highly respected man in the world of men, right? 
Well, when I discovered I could reduce him to a whimpering, panting slob, it 
gave me a feeling of power. Despite what everybody said about him, I knew he 
wasn't any superman." 

Mona paused, brushing her hair from her forehead as she gathered her 
thoughts. "The point is," she continued, "I've always been a very 
competitive girl, Reid. You don't know this, but I've also been a rather 
good painter since a very early age. I was extremely precocious and weighed 
life quite intellectually, although I seldom revealed this. My father knew 
this, of course, but I'll wager you didn't think the curious little girl who 
seduced you that afternoon had any particular talents or ambitions, 
correct?" 

"No, I suppose it didn't even occur to me," Reid admitted, studying her 
closely. "I was too busy admiring your-er-other attributes." 

"Like my ass and my tits? Things like that, right?" 

Reid chuckled. "You might put it that way, yes." 

"Right on," Mona said. "Well, to make this brief, although you would never 
have recognized that I had such a problem, I was in a deadly competition 
with men-all men. But now I've finally accepted woman's subservient role. 
Interesting that I would go against the whole Fern Lib Movement, isn't it? 
Still, I believe what I'm saying now. I believe that men are more concerned 
with ideas than women and that woman's job is to sort of bring them down to 
earth. I don't mean that woman can't function in the arts and can't deal 
with ideas-of course we can and do-what I mean is, we're more concrete. 
Actually, it's a very superior trait. We don't let men get too far off the 
track. You'd all go kooky without us, and I don't mean just sex-wise either. 
Naturally, Vincent agrees with me." 

"Well, that's a pretty interesting idea," Reid said, confused, not knowing 
really what he thought. 

She continued, not seeming to hear him. "For a long time I fought these 
basic facts. All I wanted to do was paint better than any man who ever 
lived. Now I'm aware that I was wrong. I'm a woman. I'm free at last to be a 
woman." 

"You're a woman, all right," Reid agreed, running his eyes hungrily over her 
body. "This Vincent... what does he do? Is he just a sculptor or does he do 
other things?" 

"No, he just makes things." She laughed brightly, the way he remembered her. 
"Last week he got a crumpled fender from an old wrecked car, sprayed it with 
paint and sold it for a hundred dollars! Oh, it was really too funny. Really 
heavy. Imagine! But he does do serious work from scratch. He's quite good. I 
hope he gets a good commission soon. He's forty-three and certainly due for 
a break." 

"Yes, that would be nice," Reid said. 

Mona rocked back and forth from the heels to the toes of her sandals, her 
beautiful breasts bouncing freely beneath her Indian garb. She seemed 
deliriously happy and, for a moment, Reid felt as though he might cry. He 
couldn't erase the picture in his mind of the innocent (at least he'd 
thought her innocent and naive) girl on the living-room couch, with her legs 
spread apart, begging him to fuck her. The change in her seemed so drastic! 

"Well, I really must be getting back to Vincent," Mona said. "By now he's 
probably fucking his model! Goodbye, Reid, and be sure not to 'hard sell' 
those brassieres. They're really very confining. 'Night." 

"Good night, Mona." 

She turned, crossed the highway, and began walking slowly into the distance. 
Reid watched her, unable to take his eyes from her as she walked her 
beautiful, sensuous walk toward the cluster of giant rocks. It occurred to 
him that he did not know where she lived, her telephone number.... 



When the figure sprang from the darkness of the rocks, grabbed Mona and 
dragged her from sight, Reid could not believe his eyes. It happened so 
quickly, it was as though he were dreaming. He broke into a sprint, running 
toward the rocks which lay perhaps a hundred yards away. Finally, his breath 
rasping in his lungs, he reached the spot where Mona had disappeared. The 
floodlights illuminated only the tips of the rocks and, farther below, near 
the water, there was total darkness. Squinting, searching desperately for 
some sign of movement, he crouched and made his way between two of the 
larger boulders. He called Mona's name, but there was no answer, only the 
sound of the surf. Finally, about ten yards distant where a sliver of light 
illuminated a small clearing of sand, he saw them. 

Mona's assailant lay on top of her struggling body, one hand clamped over 
her mouth and the other hand tearing at her clothing. Reid moved cautiously, 
wanting to move faster but afraid of startling the attacker. When he drew 
very near, he could hear the man's voice even over the sound of the surf. 

"Easy, sugar," the guttural voice commanded. "Ya better just relax or I'll 
just have to toss ya in the ocean. It's awful dark and deep and ya wouldn't 
like that, would ya? Relax while I fuck your little cunt. Then I'll let ya 
go okay? Be a good girlie so's I won't have to toss your pretty little ass 
in the ocean. You've had a cock in your little puss before, haven't ya? So 
what's the difference?" 

Mona's assailant had his hand up under Mona's top now, obviously fondling 
her bare breasts, and with his knee he was forcing her legs apart. 

"That's it, sugar. I just want to get this cock in that little cunt. That's 
all. Relax and everything'll be dandy. Then I'll let ya go--" 

When he was close enough, Reid leaped and tore the man from Mona. He was not 
a big man-possibly in his forties-but he was strong for his size. Instantly, 
he got back up on his feet and kicked Reid squarely in the chest. Reid went 
flying, the rough rock tearing into his back as he fell. 

"Get the hell away, hero," the attacker cursed. "Go away before I kill your 
ass and the broad's, too." 

Reid sprang forward and drove his right fist low and straight, trying for 
the testicles with all his might. The blow landed high though, caught the 
man's ribs and pushed into his stomach. There followed a whooshing exhale of 
air, a painful groan, and then Reid saw the glint of a knife blade in the 
dim light. The lighting was eerie, for the floodlights from the highway 
lighted the top of the man's head-making his short-cropped hair appear 
crimson-while Mona and the ground below was in near darkness. 

"Now you're gonna die, big man," the attacker grunted. "You wanted to play 
hero? Well, okay. You're gonna die good... with a... knife in your gut." 

"Save yourself a lot of trouble," Reid said. "Just go away and forget the 
whole thing. Go now and I won't try to stop you." 

"I got the knife, friend. You ain't givin' no orders. You're the one who's 
goin'. Now!" 

Mona sat frozen in terror on the sand. "Go, Mona!" Reid yelled. "Go now! 
Run!" 

She didn't move. There was only one thing left to do. With Mona in a state 
of shock, Reid knew he would have to grapple with this armed man. He feinted 
to his left, drew a thrust that barely missed, and caught the man's wrist. 

"Go!" Reid screamed. "Run now, Mona! Run!" 

Still, Mona did not move. The struggle continued and the knife was at throat 
level now, pointing at the attacker as they battled for control. Reid felt 
his arms weakening. He would have to make a desperate effort soon before he 
lost his strength. With every bit of strength he could muster, he exerted a 
final burst, put his leg behind the assailant and shoved with all his might. 
As the man fell, Reid managed to wrench the knife from his hand. Then, 
before his opponent could rise, Reid used both hands and drove the blade 
downward. 

There was a sharp cry of pain as the knife dug deep into the man's shoulder. 
Reid lay on his side then, panting, making no effort to stop the would-be 
rapist as he crawled away whimpering into the darkness. 

"You fucking animal!" he cried out after him, but there was only the sound 
of the sea against the rocks. In a moment, when he had regained his breath, 
he asked, "Are you all right, Mona?" 

She crawled over to him. "Yes, yes," she muttered. "Oh, Reid. It was so-so 
horrible." She nestled against him. 

"He's gone," Reid said. "He's gone now. It's all right." 

Mona touched the blood on his wrist. "Reid, you're hurt!" 

"No, it's his blood. It's from him." 

Mona buried her face in his shoulder. "If you hadn't been here to stop him, 
he would have-he would have raped me and-and maybe thrown me in the 
ocean...." She broke off in a sob. 

He put his arm around her and they sat in silence for what seemed a long 
time. After a while, she dabbed at her eyes and said, "I'm sorry I seemed so 
cool and independent back at the antique shop. I'm-I'm really not so 
different from the girl you made love to a few years back." She cuddled 
closer. "I've never forgotten you, Reid. After that beautiful afternoon when 
we fucked there on the couch, I kept hoping you would come back. I thought 
about you all the time. Did you ever think of me?" 

Reid held her close, nuzzling in her soft, dark hair. "Yes, Mona, I thought 
of you more than you'd guess. But it was impossible to contact you. You 
understand? Your age... your father... everything." 

"It feels so good to be near you again, Reid. I-I was so frightened a moment 
ago. Fate must have sent you here. What if I'd left that shop all alone-if 
you hadn't been here?" 

"Yes," Reid said. "Fate. Tell me, is this Vincent really good to you? Are 
you happy?" 

"Yes," she said, "but let's not talk about Vincent now, all right?" She 
reached up then, encircling his neck with her arm and their lips met in a 
deep, soul kiss. There was no haste, no clumsiness. She was neither bold nor 
timid, passive nor aggressive. He slipped his hand up under the top of her 
leather top and gently fondled her ripe, firm breasts. An electric-like 
shock seemed to jolt his scrotum and his balls tingled as his prick rose 
instantly to its full length. In a way, he felt guilty. The attacker had 
also fondled Mona's breasts. Quite possibly she was still in a state of 
semi-shock and he felt as though he were taking advantage-like picking up a 
drunken woman in a bar and using her. But she seemed coherent and her lips 
were pressed tightly to his, their tongues playing darting, frantic games. 

"Is this my reward for rescuing the maiden in distress?" he found himself 
asking. 

She held his cheeks in her hands and stared intently, her eyes tear bright, 
into his own eyes. "Reid, you know it's more than that. Please don't be 
cruel." 

"Well, that maniac was-was feeling you up. Am I really any better?" He 
couldn't help uttering what was on his mind, even though he felt nothing but 
affection, even love, for this lovely girl beside him. He wondered why he 
was torturing himself, but he guessed that his feeling for Mona was so 
intense and genuine that he actually wanted what was best for her. He did 
not want her to give her body to him out of gratitude. He did not want her 
to do anything she sincerely didn't want to do. If she gave herself to him 
because she was grateful he knew he would feel he was no better than the 
attacker who had just fled. It became suddenly important to him that his own 
motives be right and hers, too. Don't be such a pompous, moral, pain in the 
ass, Reid, he thought. 

"You know it isn't the same," Mona was saying. She pressed his hand firmly 
to her bare breast again encouragingly. "You know you're nothing like 
that-that beast who just attacked me. Do you really still have to write all 
that advertising crap?" she asked. 

In view of what had just happened-the horror and the danger of it-the 
question struck him as incongruous. He began to laugh, and then Mona began 
to laugh, too. They sat there in the semi-darkness in the damp sand, 
laughing hysterically. It was an overreaction, a sort of release from their 
near-catastrophic experience. When finally their hilarity had sputtered and 
spasmed to a halt, Reid said, "No, I guess I really don't have to write all 
that advertising crap, but I'm doing it anyway. Why?" 

"I was just thinking about that afternoon you were at my father's. You 
seemed so intense-both of you-like little boys squabbling over a game of 
marbles. Only the marbles were dollars. I had a crush on you the minute I 
saw you. I knew I wanted you to be the first to make love to me the second I 
saw you. And when that telephone call came that took Daddy away-well, I 
guess I let you know, didn't I?" 

"Yes, young lady, you certainly did," he said, and then he turned her face 
to him again and kissed her long and hard while he resumed squeezing her 
breasts and tenderly brushing her nipples erect with his thumbs and 
forefingers. 

"You were my lovely instructor," she cooed, reaching down and groping at his 
erection, manipulating it like a sponge. 

They both lay back on the damp sand, face to face at first, and then Reid 
lifted her leather top high and held both breasts together and kissed and 
licked at them while his hand kneaded her ass and pulled it toward his 
swollen cock in a slow, rhythmic motion. "Hello, baby," he said. 

"Oh, Reid... I've never forgotten that afternoon... how patient and sweet 
you were... how it felt when you stuck your beautiful cock between my legs. 
Let's pretend we're on my father's couch again-just like that afternoon." 

Reid continued nursing at her breasts, first one and then the other, while 
his hand slid down and stroked the delightful protuberance of her youthful 
belly. He palmed it, tickling her navel, and gradually moved his hand in 
wider circles until he reached the soft down of her pubic mound. Then, ever 
so slowly, he let his finger dip into the top of her crease until it nudged 
her clit. She was still a bit dry and so he dipped deeper into her honey 
pot, parting the dewy lips of her vagina with all the delicacy of a 
connoisseur examining the petals of a rose, fetched a glob of lubricant and 
applied it to her tingling clitoris. Slowly and lightly at first, he 
massaged her nerve center with the aid of her own sticky fluid. She 
responded by pumping her hips and moaning appreciatively, making little 
mewing sounds and palming his cheek as he drew her nipples deep into his 
mouth. 

Suddenly he forced himself to part from her, removed his canvas jacket and 
spread it under their midsections, just as they had spread the towel beneath 
them that afternoon on the couch in Mona's living room. The jacket beneath 
them, they again pressed their bodies tightly together. In a moment, Reid 
slid Mona's jeans and panties down over her ankles and then slipped out of 
his own clothing. Instantly, she clamped her soft hand-God, how often he had 
recalled the manipulation of those soft hands on his prick-about his 
engorged penis and he went on tickling her clit while she played with his 
testicles and lovingly handled his tool. 

Mona placed her knee over his hip and guided his cock so that its dribbling 
head touched her clit. Then, kissing and moaning in unison, they tantalized 
each other by pumping so that only the swollen head of his meat slurped 
against the top of her pelvis. Mona's hand was against his bare ass, pulling 
in restrained urgency, and he tugged at her buttocks, too. They went on that 
way, driving each other to the point of desperation for a long time, 
oblivious to the sound of the surf and an occasional passing car up on the 
highway. Here, in the darkness and surrounded by the rocks, they were safe 
to play with each other's body, to delight each other, to take their time at 
this conspiracy of pleasure, this indulgence that would bring blessed relief 
to their aching genitals. It was simple: a man and a woman moving toward the 
inevitable-moving toward orgasm-toward sexual fulfillment that would not be 
denied. 

"Let's-let's kiss each other down there... at the same time," Mona said. 

Reid complied, changing position so that his face nuzzled in her downy pubic 
hair. Even in the fresh ocean air, her delicious furry nest emitted a 
delightful female scent and he eagerly began kissing her dewy crease and 
inhaling deeply while Mona showered his throbbing hard-on with kisses. 

In a moment, he felt the warmth of her mouth encircle his rod, draw it deep 
into her mouth just as she had two years ago. With one hand she massaged his 
balls and with the other she held his cock at the base for support as she 
slid his tingling meat in and out of her hot, wet mouth. He lifted her leg 
and placed it over his shoulder. They lay on their sides that way then, 
munching at each other's crotch. With both hands, Reid parted the lips of 
Mona's gushing vagina and let his tongue flutter up and down, gobbling and 
laving at the cunt lips for a long time before he concentrated, very 
delicately at first, on her clitoris. Her moans grew loud now and her entire 
body began trembling as she lapped at his firm prick and fondled his balls. 
Suddenly she tore her mouth from his cook and said, "Come here, Reid. Up 
here! Sit on my chest and fuck my mouth!" 

She flopped over onto her back then, her mouth slack in anticipation, and 
extended her arms beckoningly. Reid straddled her and, hard-on out before 
him like some searching Geiger counter, crawled toward her face on his knees 
until his knees rested just beneath her armpits. She took his immense organ 
in both hands then and began nursing on its swollen head. 

It was beautiful watching her ingest his stiff rod there in the dim light. 
Yes, he was literally fucking her mouth. She placed one hand on his buttocks 
and began pulling in a rhythmic movement to simulate the motion of fucking. 
Reid placed both fists beneath her head so that her neck would not tire as 
she repeatedly raised her head to take in every inch of his cock. 

From time to time, she paused and withdrew his meat from her feverish lips 
to gaze admiringly at its glistening, lengthy beauty. Her eyes bleary with 
lust, she pressed against his pelvis with her hands so that his organ 
reached maximum extension during her panting inspections. Then she would 
resume sucking again, making him fuck her mouth while she moaned loudly. 

Finally, unable to stand the sensation and sight of his member entering her 
lovely mouth, Reid pulled away. He didn't want to come this way. He had to 
imbed his prick between the legs of this beauty. He had to grasp Mona's 
little ass hard in his hands and drive his spear into her hot cunt and he 
did not want to come this way in her mouth. But she seemed hell-bent on 
holding him in place, even though it was obvious that he was ready to 
finish. Once again, just as she had done that afternoon so long ago, she was 
ready to sacrifice her own desires for the passion of the moment. 

Reid pulled away forcefully, insistently, but she moaned in muffled protest 
with the cock in her mouth and clung hard to his ass. She wanted him to stay 
where he was-to spew his sperm directly into her mouth. It was not an 
altogether unpleasant possibility to Reid, for even the few seconds that it 
would require to transfer his flaming rod from mouth to vagina would seem an 
eternity, he knew. Well, he thought, maybe he could hold back a few more 
seconds... a few more seconds... but it would be difficult... God, Mona was 
an expert cock-sucker! And being on top this way-aggressive rather than on 
his back and totally passive while a female made oral love to him-was 
beautiful; absolutely and incomparably beautiful. 

Reid took a deep breath, concentrated on not expending his load, and with 
one hand began fingering Mona's dripping love slit. As he watched his cock 
slide in and out of Mona's lips, his hand behind his back now toying with 
her cunt to make it ready, he thought he would pass out-so intense was the 
pleasure. 

"Mona... I'm going to take it out now," he said. "I've got-got to-fuck 
you-in your pussy. You understand? I'm going to take it out of your mouth 
now, honey, and-and put it where it-it belongs... in your hot little snatch, 
okay?" 

With his cock still m her mouth, she squealed in protest, shaking her head 
and clutching his ass still harder. It was now or never, Reid knew. He could 
not hold back much longer. With a mighty effort of willpower (and physical 
effort) he tore his cock from the vacuum of her mouth, slid down and, 
parting her legs, slowly fed his cock into her steaming twat. "Ohhhh," she 
moaned when she was stuck good and every inch of his member had penetrated 
to the depths of her. 

He knew it would be that way. She had enjoyed munching on his erection, 
naturally. But once that same prong was inside her cunt, she was like all 
the rest. Putty... completely and totally helpless, and riding his pole like 
a jockey. 

Now his prick was in her pussy and he had something to hold onto-her 
beautifully smooth ass-and something to wrap around himself-her inner thighs 
and legs. Her heels began digging into the backs of his legs, too, prodding 
and urging him on. "Oh fuck, Reid," she cried. "Fuck!" 

"See?" he asked. "Isn't it better fucking, baby? Isn't it nicer right inside 
your cunt? Don't you remember that day? It was fucking you wanted then, 
right? Sucking is fun, sure, but isn't fucking nice. Isn't it? Isn't it?" 

"Oh yes... yes... yes... yes..." she chanted. "I love it in my mouth, but 
I-I love it in my cunt, too. Yes... yes...." 

Reid slammed his hips hard at the young vagina because he could tell she 
wanted it that way. Long ago, their lovemaking had been a gentler thing, but 
this night they battered and rammed each other. In a sense, it was like 
another movement of the same sexual symphony. But the mood and tempo had 
changed and, where their previous sexual encounter had been somewhat tender, 
this fuck was Wagnerian, with cymbals crashing-the sound of the surf 
provided that-and the level of impact was fortissimo. 

"Reid... Reid... Reid... Reid..." She chanted as her lubricant ran down the 
cheeks of her ass and into the palms of his hands that wrenched and tugged 
at her ass. 

"Now Reid... Now Reid!" she yelled in his ear and, knowing that she was 
there, he dropped his control, his guard, and felt the tingling begin deep 
in his groin and, cresting, begin catapulting along his shaft, tickling, 
gouging, as his hot fluid began its pumping spurts into the interior velvet 
heat of Mona's spasming vagina. 

They went off together-came grunting there by the sea where the grunion 
sometimes ran-and it was crazy but for just an instant Reid saw the grunion 
glistening in the moonlight as they flip-flopped on the sand, fresh from the 
surf just as his own sperm flip-flopped fresh from the depth of his 
testicles and spawned, oh, so happily now, oh, goddam, it felt good now, in 
the warm protective climate of Mona's cunt. 

They lay clasped tight together for a long time and Reid babbled somewhat 
incoherently into the ear of the young girl pinned beneath him-his 
captive-telling him that he loved her in breathless, pathetic gasps. In a 
way, what he said was true. After all, when the fuck was over, you didn't 
have to go and tell somebody you loved her, did you? he thought. Hell, no, 
you didn't. That was supposed to come before the fuck so that you could lay 
them and then say, "I'll see you later sometime maybe." 

Still, he found himself saying loving things to her and he didn't give a 
damn about what you were supposed to do or what you weren't supposed to do. 
No, that wasn't right either, he thought. He was just doing what he felt 
like doing. What people were supposed to do didn't have anything to do with 
it. 

Mona was very quiet. Finally, Reid stopped saying things and they both lay 
quietly, listening to the surf. Jesus, Reid thought, had he really told Mona 
that he would love her as long as he lived? That was a pretty dumb thing to 
say to an eighteen-year-old. Yes, indeed. The stupidity of it was evidenced 
by the fact that she was now dead silent... returned to earth... the wall up 
again. 

A few minutes later, dressed and standing under the bright floodlights on 
the highway, Mona said, "I could never desert Vincent, Reid. If it didn't 
sound so trite, I'd say he needs me. You understand, don't you?" 

Reid had said all there was to say. "Yes, I understand," he said, and then 
he watched her walk into the distance, this time until she disappeared 
safely from sight. 

Reid didn't realize the extent of his exhaustion until he reached the 
beachfront cottage. It wasn't every day that he fought off a would-be rapist 
and made love to a woman. He was getting old, he guessed. At thirty-six, he 
just didn't have the old stamina any more. He collapsed on the sofa and 
stared at a few dust balls that had gathered in the corner. He had been here 
a week now and he hadn't cleaned the place yet. He thought of the sink full 
of unwashed dishes, the laundry hamper filled with dirty clothes and the 
advertising campaigns that he had not devised, at least not successfully so 
far, and he wondered what the hell he was going to do and where the hell he 
was going. 

For the first time he noticed that there was a slight odor to the cottage, 
that the wallpaper was somewhat gaudy and the grass-mat floor covering was 
worn in places. Actually, it was Mona he missed. He felt incomplete. It 
wasn't just enough to lay a girl you truly cared for. He wanted her here now 
so that he could talk to her, look at her, listen to music with her, even 
read a book sitting next to her. Well, that was nothing new, he decided. He 
was afflicted with what they call loneliness. He had never thought he would 
see the day when he, Reid Hartley, boy wonder, would be lonely. But he was. 

He went over to the typewriter and slammed the carriage hard, stupidly, and 
then he tore up the notes he had been collecting on the brassiere campaign 
and let the pieces snowfall into the wastebasket. 

Well tomorrow was another day. He would clean the place up, take his clothes 
to the laundry and then tackle the problem of how to sell Wonder-Lift 
brassieres again. Maybe he would even call up an old girl friend and have 
her come down for a few days. What the hell? Girls liked to come down to the 
beach, didn't they? He knew one thing. He had to get Mona Seagram out of his 
mind. In anger, he hit the knotty pine wall hard with his fist. Then he went 
back into the small bedroom, undressed, climbed between the sheets and fell 
instantly into a deep sleep. 

Chapter Three 

By the third week of his "working vacation" in Malibu Beach, Reid Hartley 
was firmly convinced that he was a candidate for The Funny Farm. Although he 
had several approaches to both the Wonder-Lift bra account, as well as the 
Gibbons toothpaste account, he was not satisfied with any of them. The 
trouble was, he had lost confidence in himself. He didn't know whether they 
were good or not. His former brilliant and intuitive flashes that had made 
companies millions seemed to have abandoned him-degenerated to mere 
craftsmanship. 

Also, he had not been able to get Mona Seagram out of his mind. He had not 
telephoned any of his other girl friends as he had contemplated. Instead, he 
had made daily journeys to the antique shop where he had seen Mona. But she 
seemed to have vanished. He sat this afternoon, staring out at the 
fog-shrouded sea, depressed and feeling sorry for himself. Christ, he was 
lonely! Still, he found himself taking a kind of masochistic pleasure in his 
unhappiness. It was almost as though he felt he deserved unhappiness. Yes, 
unhappiness was his penance for not being, irrefutably, the best ad man in 
the business. 

He sighed. If Malibu Beach was supposed to be something special, he didn't 
know why. For three straight days now, the sky had been overcast, a 
perpetual and depressing gray-damp and looking as though it would never 
change. Instead of returning from his "working vacation" sporting a tan and 
armed with the solution to the Gibbons and Wonder-Lift accounts, he would be 
pallid and defeated. Yes, this was one hell of a way to spend a vacation in 
June. He would almost rather be back working in the tedious pressure of the 
office-the rat race at Luben's Ad Agency. 

He sat on the rustic porch that fronted the ocean, trying to decide whether 
or not to pack up and forget his beach vacation. Even the intense summer 
heat of Palm Springs would be preferable to the endless gray, he thought. 
Yes, he thought, maybe he should pack up, forget the rental money he would 
lose for the remainder of the week, and head for the desert. Screw Malibu. 
Even the night life had proved disappointing. He'd spent too much time 
frequenting the bars and bar/restaurants that dotted the highway and met 
nothing but dull tourists. Where was Mona? Where did she spend her free 
time? He hadn't been able to find her anywhere. One bar, reputedly an 
artists' hangout, had raised his hopes, but it turned out to be nothing but 
a lesbian rendezvous. Yeah, screw Malibu, he thought. 

Reid glanced at his wristwatch and had to rub the dampness from the crystal 
to read the time. Three o'clock in the afternoon and he hadn't even seen the 
sun yet. He withdrew a soggy cigarette from the pack on the wet table beside 
him, lit it with effort, and listened to the boom of the breakers just forty 
feet away. Sometimes, if he was lucky, he could make out the white surf 
splashing toward him across the smooth sand-that is, if it was a 
particularly big wave. Whoopee.... 

In a moment, his cigarette went out. He threw it angrily from the porch, 
stepped onto the sand and began walking south. He wore a white, 
short-sleeved terry cloth top, bathing trunks and sandals. He trudged 
through the sand to where the white foam splashed flat, letting the salt 
water wash over his feet as he went. Screw everything, he thought. Why 
couldn't he seem to get Mona out of his mind? Even the waves gathering 
reminded him of the curves and swells of her body and the sound of the surf 
only brought painful memories of the night they'd made love in the rocks by 
the sea. 

"M-O-N-A-" That's what the tide and the breeze and the retreating foam 
said... that's what everything seemed to be saying. 

Reid guessed that he had been insane to take this vacation by himself. He 
knew of at least two girls (if you could refer to females twenty-six and 
twenty-seven as girls) who would gladly have accompanied him anywhere on a 
vacation. But he had convinced himself that he had to work and that company 
would interfere with his work. Yes, either Pam or Jan would have leaped at 
the chance. But, no. He had visions of accomplishing some kind of miracle, 
conceiving some new and exciting ad campaigns. So now he was just plain 
lonely. 

Oddly, at first, he had even half toyed with the idea of reaching some kind 
of decision regarding Janet. She wanted to get married, and it occurred to 
him that a thirty-six-year-old bachelor with a nice five-figure income maybe 
ought to settle down again, forget the divorce of his twenties. Janet would 
be good for him, he knew. She certainly was good in the sack. She was a fuck 
and a half, all right. If he telephoned her right now, she could be with him 
tonight. But then that would be a kind of defeat. No, it would be better to 
stick it out a while longer, he decided. If the weather didn't improve by 
the end of the week he would head for the desert, get a tan and forget all 
about Mona for good... if he could.... 

Walking along the beach that way, scanning the endless gray horizon, his 
shoulders slumped, Reid Hartley was not at all the man he permitted the 
world to see at Luben's Ad Agency. There, he was known as a kind of "genius 
who was in a temporary slump"-a hardworking guy who somehow remained 
optimistic even though he was having problems maintaining his reputation. 
Now, the meticulously combed steel-gray hair, the erect posture, the firm 
and determined jaw, the intense alertness, were missing. His hair was damp 
and tousled, his aggressive stride had deteriorated to an aimless shuffle. 

He had walked perhaps half a mile when he sighted, to his left, large 
lanterns hanging in a partly enclosed porch. A crude sign on the rear of the 
building read simply: THE SHACK. It was obviously a commercial place of 
business-a bar, no doubt. He had not ventured this far since his arrival at 
Malibu, and therefore he hadn't noticed the place before. Reid paused, 
deliberating, then decided to mount the rickety, wooden stairway. 

When he reached the top of the stairs, he could see that it was definitely a 
bar. People in casual attire sat on high stools and at crude, wooden tables, 
and he could see a bartender standing before a buzzing blender and glasses 
in front of people. He went inside. 

The interior of the bar was not modern. In fact, if anything there was an 
obvious attempt at creating a kind of antique, junklike atmosphere. But it 
wasn't the decor that caught Reid's eye so much as the clientele. Once 
again, it seemed, he had stumbled into a lesbian bar. Except for two rather 
effeminate-looking men giggling in the corner, the eight or nine patrons 
scattered about the room were obviously dykes. At second glance, though, he 
noticed what appeared to be fairly normal-looking couples sitting back 
against the wall. It was difficult to tell for sure. The place was very 
dark. He took a seat at the bar and the bartender placed a napkin before 
him. 

"What will you have, sir?" the man asked. There was no hostility in his 
voice and the patrons apparently didn't even know he had entered the room. 

"Beer," Reid said. "A bottle of Schlitz, please." He didn't really want a 
beer. Actually, he was just killing time. No, in all honesty, this was one 
place he hadn't frequented and he had to admit that he hoped that perhaps 
Mona Seagram might be here. He silently cursed himself for allowing a 
teenage girl to be leading him around by the nose-to be directing his 
movements and occupying his thoughts to exclusion of everything else. Like 
the protagonist in Nabokov's Lolita, he had become obsessed with a nymphet-a 
girl far too young for him, a girl who could only bring him catastrophe and 
unhappiness. Really, he should leave this motley bunch and get back to his 
cottage and go to work. And then suddenly he decided he wanted it to be 
overcast again tomorrow so that he could pack up and head for the desert... 
forget Mona Seagram forever. 

The bartender set the beer in front of him and before he could take a sip he 
saw her-Mona Seagram. She had come from the darkness at the far side of the 
room, apparently one of the couples he hadn't been able to see clearly, with 
Vincent probably. She ordered two bottles of beer, and Reid wondered why 
Vincent didn't fetch the beers. Was the sculptor-slob (he couldn't help 
thinking of Vincent as anything but a slob) trying to make a slave out of 
Mona? 

Reid stared at her, his heart pounding inside his chest, his breath coming 
faster. As she waited, she rested her chin on her hand, her elbow on the 
bar, studying the rows of amber bottles almost clinically. Reid wanted to 
call out to her but he could not. God, she was beautiful! She had abandoned 
the Indian outfit and now wore tight denims-so tight the seams seemed ready 
to burst-and her breasts were bare almost down to the nipples. Yes, she wore 
a man's type shirt-probably one of that bastard Vincent's shirts-and the 
partly unbuttoned front displayed her full, rounded bosoms. Again, she wore 
no bra. Ah! there was a slogan for him: Wonder-Lift is like no bra at all. 
How could he be thinking of Wonder-Lift at a time like this? Had his job 
become a kind of curse-a thing he could never rid his brain of? 

Just then she turned her head and sighted him. She seemed surprised, but 
then she smiled quizzically, her long, ebony hair-straight and shining and 
casual on her shoulders, framing her delicate features. She blinked her long 
lashes and he stared into her enormous blue eyes, heavy with eye shadow, her 
eyebrows exaggerated, penciled heavily. She had made an amazing 
transformation. She didn't even remotely resemble the Indian girl he had 
made love to on the sand. She was everything a man could want and, oddly, 
she looked much older than eighteen now. They just went on that way, staring 
at each other. 

Finally, unable to endure her gaze any longer, Reid said, "Hello, Mona." 

"Hello, Reid," she said. When the bartender set the two beers in front of 
her, she paid him and then came over and sat down beside him. 

"I've been looking for you, Mona. I-I guess I've been looking for you 
everywhere. You don't go to the antique shop often, do you?" 

She shook her head. "No, almost never. Why have you been looking for me, 
Reid? Just to-to fuck me again?" 

"Why do you think? I've really been looking for you-everywhere. I can't seem 
to stop thinking about you. Don't reduce my search to just-just physical. 
All I said was that I've been looking for you and I can't stop thinking 
about you, okay?" 

"Okay. Listen, I have to take one of these beers over to my friend. Then 
I'll be back. Sit tight." 

She left and a moment later, as promised, returned. 

"Who was the beer for?" he asked. "Vincent?" 

She shook her head very slowly, significantly, a peculiar smile playing 
about the corners of her mouth. "There are some things I didn't tell you, 
Reid," she said finally. "You see, there is no Vincent. That beer was for 
Mike, Mike is a girl. Actually her name is Michele. I'm sorry I lied to you, 
Reid, but I didn't think you'd understand." 

Reid grabbed for a pretzel and chewed on it frantically. Yes, he felt quite 
sure of it now. He was going mad. And so was everybody else! 

"Oh, there was a Vincent, all right," Mona said. "For a while there was a 
Vincent, but he just took off. That's the way men are, right? They find a 
better set of tits or something and then it's poof and they're gone, right?" 

"I wouldn't know," Reid said. He was beginning to get the picture and he was 
beginning to feel faintly nauseated. It was fairly apparent that Mona-his 
beautiful Mona-was telling him that she was les. Still, after their love 
session at the shore he found this hard to believe. One thing was certain. 
If Mona had turned lesbian, she comprised definitely the female part of the 
relationship. He wondered if her girl friend/boyfriend, or whatever it 
called itself, couldn't be far away. 

Reid forced a laugh, which came out sounding like a gurgle, and glanced over 
his shoulder at the girls sitting at the tables. Now that his eyes had 
accustomed themselves to the lighting, he saw that what he had assumed were 
heterosexual couples were, in reality, dykes and their fem girl friends. 
Although he couldn't be certain, a huge blonde in a buckskin jacket and 
baggy jeans qualified as his rival. Her narrowed eyes were hate-filled and 
apprehensive. Holding a cigarette crudely between her teeth, she lit it, 
then sent the smoke hissing at him as though it were venom. 

"Is your friend Mike wearing a kind of cowboy jacket?" Reid asked. 

"Right," Mona said, "and to be perfectly honest with you I'm trying to make 
her jealous right now." 

"I think you're succeeding," Reid said. "She's pawing the floor and 
breathing fire. I think it's an awful waste-someone like you, Mona, giving 
yourself to a-a creep like her. Tell me, you weren't kidding me the other 
night, were you? I mean, you do like men, too?" 

"You know better than to ask me that, Reid. I'm not that good an actress. 
You turn me on and you know it. You turned me on since that first day at my 
father's place. You might say that it was my father who sort of turned me 
off." 

Reid looked directly into Mona's deep blue eyes and with great seriousness 
asked, "Are you salvageable?" 

Mona merely laughed and draped her arm over his shoulder. 

"What's that for?" Reid asked. "To make the dyke jealous?" 

Mona shrugged. "Maybe. I'm not sure. We'll have to wait and see." 

"You are becoming a most puzzling young lady," Reid said. 

"I know," Mona said, and then she gave him a kiss on the cheek and hugged 
him. "Just play along with me for a little while, okay? I promise you won't 
be sorry, Reid. Please?" 

"Okay, my little ding-a-ling. Whatever you say, but tell me one thing: Does 
your friend carry weapons? I mean, is she partial to knives or anything? 
Basically I'm a coward and I don't like my body stabbed or shot or maimed in 
any way, shape, or manner." 

"Oh, no," Mona assured. "Nothing like that. Let's go to my place now. It's 
just down the beach. All right?" 

Reid gulped down the last of his beer. "All right. Let's," he said. All of a 
sudden he didn't give a damn. He wanted Mona, no matter what. He had been 
searching for her for days and, now that he was assured that Mike would not 
be throwing sticks of dynamite at him, he was curious to know just what was 
going on inside Mona's beautiful little head. 

As they stood up, Mona kissed him on the cheek and glanced defiantly over 
toward Mike. Then she led him through the rear exit and down the wooden 
stairway to the beach. There, she encircled his waist with her arm and they 
walked through the deep sand like lovers strolling between lovemaking 
sessions. 

"It's just a little ways farther," she said. 

Reid kissed her on the cheek as they walked. He couldn't believe that he had 
found Mona at last. It seemed too good to be true! The circumstances were a 
bit weirder than he had anticipated, true, but here he was walking arm in 
arm with the girl who had haunted his sexual fantasies for years. 

"When does the gag end?" he asked. 

"The gag?" 

"You succeeded in making your girl friend jealous, right? So what do we do 
now? Have coffee somewhere and return with our hair all mussed up? Look 
disheveled? Just what is your plan, my sweet?" 

Mona giggled, stopped in her tracks, and then pressed her body hard against 
his. The big breakers boomed onto the beach as she ground her breasts and 
hips hard into him. Her mouth was open-wet and urgent against his. When they 
finally parted, she said, "Now do you think all I want is coffee? Don't be 
an idiot, Reid. I want to fuck. Ever since that day with you I've loved to 
fuck. God, every girl should have a man like you to break her in right. No, 
Reid. I want to fuck a man! And you, my sweet thing, are one of the few real 
men I've encountered." 

"Then why this bit with Michele-Mike, whatever-I don't understand." He held 
his hands out beseechingly. 

"You'll understand. I'll-I'll explain. Please. Just be patient for a little 
while." She put her arm around his waist again and they continued walking. 

In a few minutes, Mona pointed to a two-story house with an enormous patio 
filled with cushy furniture, all wrought iron and white leatherette. She led 
the way up the short stairway, opened the sliding glass doors, and they 
stepped inside one of the plushest beach houses Reid had ever seen. There 
was a large bar in one corner-six or seven stools-which was well stocked 
with every conceivable kind of liquor and liqueur, a built-in TV, wood 
paneling on the walls, and several obviously expensive oil paintings on the 
walls. One painting in particular caught his eye. It was a huge portrayal of 
two voluptuous women in a passionate embrace. One of the girls cupped her 
partner's breasts while the other reciprocated by fondling the first's 
genital area. 

Reid whistled softly. "Nice place you have here," he said. "You have good 
tastes-I must say." 

Mona again pressed herself to him, just as she had on the beach. "I have to 
confess that I lied to you just a little, Reid," she said. "I do accept some 
help from Daddy still. He pays the rent here, for instance." She grinned, 
following his gaze to the picture of the two naked girls on the wall. 
"Vincent painted it before he left," she said. "Not a bad painting for a 
sculptor, uh? He became a little disillusioned with my relationship with 
Mike before he left, so he left me that little memento. The blonde is 
supposed to be Mike and the brunette is supposed to be me." 

"Charming," Reid said, suddenly angry. "Are you in love with her or what?" 

"No-I-I don't think so. Right after I got out of the hospital-I wasn't lying 
about that-she was very good to me. I met her one night at The Shack, had a 
little too much to drink and...." 

"Nice place, The Shack," Reid said. "They serve eighteen-year-olds and 
promote lesbianism." 

Mona just shrugged and shook her head helplessly. Then she faced him and 
slipped her hand beneath his terry cloth top and began running her smooth 
hand over his chest. "I guess I was just a poor little rich girl out for 
kicks. I know one thing, though. I still dig men-real men like you-no matter 
what kicky things Mike does to me. When it comes right down to it I guess 
I'm what Mike calls a 'dumb little heterosexual country girl.' I-I get a 
different tingle with a man... different vibrations entirely. Shall we 
tingle?" 

"Why?" Reid asked. "Just to flaunt that freak, Mike?" 

Conflicting emotions surged within Reid. The thought of this delectable girl 
in the arms of the blonde beast she called Mike tortured him and, at the 
same time, intrigued him. In a way, he felt as though he would be compared, 
tested, rated. Somehow, he felt vaguely inadequate. Mona claimed she wanted 
to have sex with him, but she had also claimed she wanted to make Mike 
jealous. It was all very confusing-especially the lies she had told him. 
They hadn't been necessary and he found himself wondering if maybe she had 
become some kind of compulsive liar. Still, his erection seemed ready to 
burst through his trunks. There was something about her that he simply could 
not resist. Suddenly he grabbed her, pulling her hard against him. 

She must have read the conflict in his eyes, for she reached down and began 
squeezing his erection while he massaged her breasts. "It's just you, Reid," 
she breathed. "Right now it's just you and me. Forget Mike. I'm not thinking 
of a woman now while I'm playing with your-your beautiful thing. How could 
I? I just want you, Reid." 

Reid started to lower her onto the rattan sofa, but she, instead, led him by 
the hand to the bedroom. There, she stood by the king-size bed and 
tantalizingly removed her denims and blouse. She stepped from the pile of 
clothing, running her hands over her nipples, then down over the curve of 
her hips. As she lay on the bed, her knees tucked up under her chin, he 
could see the delectable soft hair and moist line of her vagina. 

"Why don't you take off your clothes and free that bulging prick of yours?" 
she cooed. "Take off your clothes and fuck me, Reid." 

Without taking his eyes from her, Reid pulled the terry cloth top over his 
head, slid out of his trunks and crawled onto the bed beside her. Instantly, 
their bodies locked together, Reid cupping her firm breasts while Mona 
clamped her hand tightly about his bone-hard penis. 

Mona's mouth was lapping his as though it were an ice cream cone. He 
responded, licking hungrily at her mouth, then lowered his head and drew 
each of the erect nipples deep into his mouth, nursing, kneading with both 
hands. Now, both of Mona's hands fumbled crazily with his manhood, gently 
groping and tickling his rod and balls as he continued lapping and sucking 
at her delicious breasts. 

"Oh, I love your big, hard cock," Mona gasped, trancelike. "I love that 
great big stiff man's prick! I want to suck on it, I want it inside my cunt, 
I want it everywhere... everywhere...." 

Reid's hand palmed her firm butt that writhed and rotated beneath his urgent 
touch. He ran his hand lingeringly over her delectable belly and finally 
down to her dripping snatch. "I could never get tired of doing things to 
you, Mona," he murmured. "Never." 

She began moaning as he gently massaged her clitoris and placed her legs 
tightly together to achieve the full friction of his probing finger. When he 
began his descent, it was as though they had read each other's minds... the 
way it had been on the beach... the way it had been years before when she 
had been barely more than a little girl. His mouth moved down from her 
breasts, lapping cuntward at the same instant her hand exerted pressure to 
push him in that direction. 

Mona's head tossed from side to side feverishly as she urged him on, tore at 
his hair with her fingernails, and moaned pitifully. "Oh, Reid... yes... 
yes... you know just what I need... what I want... yes... you always 
did...." 

His mouth finally settled on the silky, female scent of her love mound, and 
he began kissing-just kissing at first-then he spread her legs wide as he 
lapped hungrily up and down the entire length of her juicy cunt. Again and 
again, she lifted her buttocks high to engulf more and more of his gulping 
mouth. Finally, he settled down to the business at hand and concentrated 
strictly on her tingling nerve center. He moved his tongue horizontally, 
tenderly at first, until she began taking his hair in great handfuls, 
driving him to greater and greater pressure as her mewing rose to hysterical 
shrieks. 

"Gobble it, Reid!" she screamed. "Swallow my cunt whole!" 

"Then, just as they had done on the beach, with great effort she suddenly 
tore his mouth from her gushing slit and reversed herself on the bed so that 
she could feast on him, too. They lapped greedily at each other's genitals, 
gorging themselves, grunting to the accompaniment of the squeaking, rolling 
bed as they lost all contact with this world. 

When the time was right-it was again as though they had read each other's 
mind-they ceased tonguing each other's crotch at the same instant. Reid 
reversed himself and slid his hips between her saliva-wet thighs. 

"Yes... Fuck... Fuck!" Mona pleaded, whimpering pitifully. "Put it in... put 
it in my pussy... stick it all inside me... my pussy's all yours and it 
wants your big dong inside it!" 

Skillfully, one hand guided his engorged member into her swollen, ovenlike 
cavern while her other hand clawed at his buttocks. When he had entered her 
entirely, jammed his cock into her slick chasm to the hilt, she placed her 
heels on his shoulders and spurred him on frantically. He felt them 
pummeling his shoulders as she drove fiercely, the entire lower half of her 
body rising, thrusting, grinding her pelvis into his own. And then, she 
assumed her "ready to come" position-her favorite-and lowering her legs, 
locked her heels behind his knees. 

"Ohhhh... Ohhhh," she gasped, and he knew she had reached her climax. 

"No... no," she squealed. "Not yet... not yet... almost... almost... 
there... there... OHHHHH, THERRRE!" 

A moment later, he too reached the peak. Still propping himself up on his 
elbows over her, he shuddered in electric ecstasy as wave after wave of 
sobbing, spasming, orgasmic waves racked both their bodies. 

Gradually, he returned to the now and found himself muttering something in 
her ear. What he had been saying he did not know, but she was crying against 
his shoulder and repeating again and again, "Yes... oh, yes... yes... 
yes...." 

"Look at the goddam animals-fuckin' like they was in a barn!" a cold, 
high-pitched yet husky voice interrupted from the doorway behind. 

Reid turned with a start and saw big, blonde Mike, Mona's dyke friend, 
standing there sneering. Her face took on a kind of grin, but there was no 
humor in the narrowed, raging eyes. 

"That was the gruntiest screw I ever saw," the big dyke said. "How 
disgusting can you get?" 

"What-what are you doing here?" Mona gasped. 

"You wanted to get me mad, make me jealous?" Mike said. "Okay, you 
succeeded. Now that you've got your occasional man-fuck out of your system, 
tell him to get his ass out of here. Let's go back to being civilized 
again." 

"You had no right-to come here," Mona said. "It wasn't right-" She stopped 
talking abruptly and peered beyond Mike. "Who-who is that with you?" 

Reid lifted himself up on one elbow and saw that there was someone else with 
Mike. 

"Just a little assistance I brought along," Mike said. "In case lover boy 
here decides to make trouble." 

"Maxine?" Mona asked, squinting, still trying to make out the figure in the 
living room. 

"Yeah, Max," Mike said. "That's right." 

Reid felt the adrenalin surging through him. He sat up. "Mona, do you want 
these freaks here or not?" he asked. 

"No, Reid, I didn't invite them and they have no business just coming in 
this way." 

Reid hastily slipped into his trunks and stood up. "All right, girls. You 
heard her. Out!" 

Max, who was even bigger than Mike, moved into the doorway and they both 
stood there smugly, defiantly. 

Reid strode directly to them, took each one by the arm and started toward 
the glass sliding doors. "Be nice little dykes now and just run along now," 
he coaxed as he went. 

Suddenly Max caught him in the back of the head with a vicious blow with her 
forearm. Reid had the sudden and terrifying feeling that maybe these freaks 
had studied karate. He saw stars as he went staggering across the room. 
Luckily, he sidestepped just in time to avoid Mike's deadly kick at his 
groin. He stood there then, panting, something deep inside him preventing 
him from lashing out at these two dykes. You did not hit females, he 
thought. Men did not use violence against women, something from far in his 
past cried out. But then he suddenly realized that these were not real 
women; they weren't even female. With effort, he suspended the idea briefly 
that the objects of his assault were not female. First, he hurled himself at 
big Max and sent her spinning and crashing against the sliding glass door. 
He slid the door open then and literally threw her from the porch onto the 
beach. She wriggled for a moment, then lay still. 

He turned just in time to ward off Mike, who came at him wielding a vase 
like a battle-axe. He caught her arm and threw her back against the wall. As 
she started to rise, he deliberately removed the painting of the lesbian 
lovers from the wall-the one Vincent had painted in despair prior to leaving 
Mona-and brought it down with all his might on her head. 

The big dyke groaned dazedly and, before she could regain her senses, Reid 
raced her across the room and flung her, too, from the porch onto the sand 
below. 

Max, who had regained her senses, now helped Mike to her feet and then they 
both began half running, half stumbling through the sand into the distance. 

Reid stood there, breathing hard as he watched them flee for safety. 
Finally, he was aware that Mona was standing beside him. "I'm sorry, Mona," 
he said. "I know they're your friends, but I-well, they asked for it, didn't 
they? "I'm sorry I ruined your painting." 

Mona's arm slid around his waist. "Reid, it's something I should have done 
myself a long time ago. Good God, you get involved with someone like that 
and they just won't leave you alone. I guess I was on some kind of crazy 
'trip.' I didn't fully realize it until we were together just a while ago. I 
guess I needed somebody or something to jar me away from that-that dyke 
scene. There was more to it than I guessed. It got awfully damned 
complicated. But I'm out of it now. I know I am. 

He turned and saw that she was smiling in relief, looking up gratefully into 
his eyes. He gazed into her big, blue eyes and held her close, again their 
bodies pressed together. He felt something he had never felt with any other 
woman in his life. There in the salt air with the sound of the surf pounding 
in his ears, he doubted if he would ever care for another woman the way he 
now cared for Mona. There was only one trouble-the obvious one... their age 
difference. Mona had mentioned the difficulty in socializing and whatever 
else she had done in a society of lesbians. The same held true in 
functioning in a normal society when the age difference was so glaring 
between a man and woman. 

There would be an awful lot to talk about, but somehow he knew he had to be 
with Mona, that somehow they would find a way to be together. He would have 
to work things out with Janet, too. Janet had become very dependent on 
him-probably even expected to marry him. Now the name Janet seemed only a 
word from the past. 

"Let's go inside, Mona," he said suddenly. "I want to talk to you about a 
rather serious matter." 

She grew fearful. "You're not angry with me, are you?" she asked. 

He smiled and took her hand reassuringly. "No, Mona. I've made a decision 
and I just want to see how you feel about it, that's all." 

She seemed relieved. "Oh, I'm so glad you're not angry. I thought you might 
scold me and then just leave. I-I don't want to be alone right now. Can you 
stay awhile?" 

"I don't have to be back at the office for five more days," he said, 
grinning. 

"Ummm, five whole days," Mona said. "And will you show a girl some more of 
what she's been missing during those five days?" 

"I guess I could be persuaded, yes," Reid said. "Providing you cooperate, of 
course." 

Mona's hand stole down and began rubbing his dormant cock tantalizingly, 
artfully bringing it to life. "Gladly," he said. "Yes, I'll gladly show you 
what we've both been missing." He removed her hand-it was an effort, but he 
placed her hand on his shoulder with difficulty-and then he spoke seriously. 
"But what I'm concerned about is after the five days. Come on inside." 

He sat her down in the living room and spoke frankly. He told her that he 
wanted a "continuing" relationship with her. He proposed that since the 
season was nearly over anyway, she return to the city with him in five days 
and come to work as his personal secretary at Luben's Ad Agency. There would 
be no problem, he explained. The agency allowed him free rein. He could do 
whatever he pleased-hiring an assistant, whatever-so long as he delivered 
results and handled his accounts successfully. Mona typed and took shorthand 
and that was a definite plus. He explained that he wanted to take care of 
her and that he needed her. He made the point, too, that a change of 
environment and ceasing to live a useless life might be good therapy. A 
place to go and something to do each day might be good for her, he pointed 
out. 

When he had finished, she came and knelt at his feet and expressed her 
gratitude tearfully. "Oh, that sounds wonderful, Reid," she sobbed. "You 
seem to know just what I need." 

"I'll rent you an apartment in my building," he said. 

"Oh, yes," she said. "That sounds marvelous-just marvy! Right now, though, 
there's something else I want." 

Her fingers worked tickingly on his crotch and then she slid his trunks down 
and gazed worshipfully at his lazy hard-on. He watched her as she kissed his 
testicles, tongued his prick and finally took the entire shaft into her 
mouth and, mewing, began sucking his cock with all the skill of a seasoned 
prostitute. She was not a whore, of course, and her act was one of 
gratitude-of love. 

Twice he tried to stop her-wanting to make love to her-but she wouldn't hear 
of it. He had no idea, as lovely Mona munched on his engorged tool, that the 
act was a foreshadowing of things to come, for it was this very act that 
Mona now performed that would take him out of his "slump" and make him the 
most successful account executive in the history of Luben's (or any other) 
advertising agency. Though he did not know it, Mona would be the instrument 
of his phenomenal and meteoric success. 

He watched her lap at his hard prick adoringly until she finished him. She 
was like a woman gone mad as the contents of his balls exploded in her 
mouth. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and he nearly blacked out-so 
intense was his pleasure. Then, after a few minutes, they went hand-in-hand 
to the bedroom to take a nap before beginning their five-day orgy of 
delight. 

Mona had been worth waiting for, unquestionably. There would be five days of 
unspeakable ecstasy. Then they would return together to the city and an 
entirely new and exciting life with Mona beside him, both at his apartment 
and at work. 

Chapter Four 

"What a lovely apartment building!" Mona said to Reid as she met him at the 
entrance of the apartment building he had lived in for over a year now. It 
was 'Sunday night, Reid's vacation over, and they had driven in separate 
cars from Malibu Beach. Mona had parked her Mercedes on the street and Reid 
had parked in his own stall-number 24-in the subterranean parking area 
below. Reid pointed to the VACANCY sign to the right of the wide, 
fountain-lined walkway. It was dark, but the multi-colored floodlights 
illuminating the front of the plush building made the sign clearly visible. 

"After tomorrow, it will be your apartment building, too," he said, hugging 
her. 

They walked arm in arm through the thick-carpeted lobby, then out along the 
lighted swimming pool to his apartment. Reid fished for the key, inserted it 
in the lock and they entered. "After you," he said. 

Mona gave a low whistle. "Nice and spacious," she said, "and I love the 
beiges and browns. Really scrumptious. Will my apartment be like this?" 

"Same floor plan," Reid said, "but the colors might be a little different. 
All the apartments here are slightly subdued in color, though. I know you'll 
like it, even though it isn't exactly an interior decorator's dream, like 
your father's place." 

"His place is too gingerbready for my taste," she said. "No, I think I'll 
like this place very much. How is your office furnished? Will I like it?" 

"First-rate," Reid said. "You'll love it. Ad agencies always have to 
maintain the success image you know. Do you want a drink? Brandy? Scotch? 
Anything?" 

Mona yawned, then stretched so that her full, firm breasts jutted against 
her tight blouse. "I think I'd rather go to bed. Would you mind? Oh, 
Reid-it's been such a wonderful five days. I'm sorry it's over. I-I guess I 
want to go to bed and snuggle up with you because I don't want our vacation 
together to end." She came over to him, draped her arms over his shoulders 
and, mischievously, rubbed her pelvis against his until she could feel his 
penis begin coming to life. "What do you think, Reid? Don't you think it 
would be nice to go to bed?" She blinked her eves in mock innocence. 

Reid's prick stood at full attention and his breath came faster. He cleared 
his throat, obviously aroused now, and gave a low, evil chuckle. "Yes, dear, 
I think it would be nice to go to bed now," he said. 

He carried her into the bedroom then, lay her on the bed, and slowly 
undressed her. When she was completely naked, he turned the bedspread back 
and she sprawled in anticipation on the white sheets, her deeply tanned body 
(all except for her breasts and a narrow space that ran from her hipbone 
across her downy little snatch to the other hipbone where her halter and 
bikini bottoms had covered her when sunbathing) a delectable contrast 
against the white background. 

He quickly slipped out of his own clothing then, turned on the soft night 
light beside the bed and crawled onto the bed beside her. Mona began playing 
with his chest, fondling his nipples while he smoked a cigarette. 

"First thing tomorrow," he said, "go and rent the vacant apartment. It's not 
far from mine. Just on the other side of the swimming pool. Then, say about 
ten-thirty, come on over to the office and I'll introduce you to everybody." 

"How do you know they'll hire me?" she asked. "I mean, are you sure?" 

"Don't worry about it," he said. "I told you they'll let me do anything I 
want-at least for now. If I don't start showing more results soon-well, 
that's another matter. But for now, don't worry. You're as good as hired. 
Don't get there before ten-thirty, though. That'll give me a chance to let 
them know what to expect." He took a deep drag from his cigarette, thinking 
of returning to the office again and the problems and work ahead of him. 

Mona's hand deftly moved lower until she grasped the swollen base of his 
prick. "A very good friend of mine-in fact, we're quite intimate-is getting 
bigger," she said. 

Reid had not even realized that Mona's preliminary fondling had created an 
erection. "So he is," Reid said, responding and gazing down in amusement at 
his own hard-on. "So he is. That's because a certain friend of mine knows 
just the right things to do." God, he thought, after all the fucking and 
sucking they had done these past five days he was astonished that his pecker 
hadn't fallen off from over use. Mona was incredible! 

She was licking his ear now. "What will it be tonight, my love? Do you want 
me to kiss it? There are three places, you know, and you're welcome to any 
of them. Just say where." 

"Three?" he said. So far he had not fucked Mona in the ass, but apparently 
that's what she meant. Mona was precocious, all right. 

"Naturally. Daddy used to like to do it to me in the rear. I guess he 
figured I couldn't get pregnant that way or something. It really seemed to 
turn him on. Did you ever do it to anybody in the rear?" 

Somehow, Mona's question disturbed him. It was a kind of personal thing she 
was asking. Still, there didn't seem to be any secrets between them. "Yes," 
he said. "It was a long time ago though. She wanted me to do it, but 
afterwards she said it hurt her." 

"Did you like the way it felt?" Mona asked, still flip-flopping his hard 
cock so that it smacked against his belly. "I mean, was it nice and tight? 
Did it feel better than fucking a pussy-even a tight one?" 

"I don't remember," Reid said. "Personally, I'm sort of happy with the way 
things have been between us. Your pussy is just dandy for me." 

"And my mouth? You like that, too, don't you?" 

"Yes," he said, "I like that, too." 

"I like it when you lick my pussy and I like it when you fuck my pussy with 
your cock." She gave his cock a hard squeeze. "I don't know which I like 
best, in fact. They both feel heavenly. I think I like to fuck best, 
though-finish that way at least. There's something about having your big 
ramrod right between my legs.-feeling it stick me hard and thinking about it 
shooting your come inside me that's better than sucking." She was silent for 
a moment, pondering this. "Still, I don't know. I guess it depends on your 
mood. Don't you think so?" 

Mona could be maddeningly analytical at times. "Yes, I guess it does depend 
on your mood," he agreed. 

"Do you want to stick it in my rear?" she asked. 

Besides being analytical, Mona was very direct. "Uh-well, yes," Reid said. 
"But why don't we save that? Not tonight I wouldn't. Let's do that some 
other time." 

"Okay," Mona said, snuggling and gazing down at his stiff rod. She was 
holding the tiny opening of the head open with her thumb and forefinger and 
examining what little she could see of the interior of his prick very 
clinically. "If I had a little tiny penis I could stick it right in the head 
of your thing," she said thoughtfully. "Then I'd know how it feels to fuck 
instead of just getting fucked." 

Reid could not resist breaking into laughter. Mona was too much-absolutely 
too much! Never, but never, had he known a girl who was so totally 
outspoken-so frank, so experienced, and at the same time naive. He rolled 
over on his side and held her tight, kissed her eyelids and her cheeks and 
her armpits and her ears and everything he could find with his lips. 

She giggled at his sudden attention, then grew thoughtful once again. "The 
reason I asked about doing it to me in my rear," she said, "is that I 
wondered if maybe men really do like it better that way. I've heard that 
some men prefer it that way. Look at gay guys. They must prefer it, right?" 

"That's a different matter entirely," Reid said. "They don't dig women 
period, so what else are they going to do?" 

"Yes, I guess you're right," she said, nodding against his shoulder. "But 
it's a funny thing, when Daddy did it to me that way I got the feeling he 
really preferred it to doing it to my pussy. At first I thought he just 
didn't want to deflower his daughter-all that-but after a while I really got 
the impression he'd rather fuck my ass. He used to foam at the mouth 
practically and tell me to relax while he was doing it. I got so that I even 
liked it. That's why I asked you if you wanted to do it that way. Do you 
think I have an anal hang-up?" 

Again Reid laughed. "No, sweet," he said. "I think you're just a very 
curious and inquisitive girl-maybe the most curious and inquisitive girl of 
all time." He went on laughing. 

"You're making fun of me," Mona said, pouting. 

"No, I'm not," Reid said. "It's just that I never had a conversation quite 
like this before. It's probably my fault." He held her closer, 
apologetically. "That's it. I'm probably just inhibited. Look, we'll do it 
that way sometime if you want, but for right now-tonight-I'm a pussy and 
mouth man, okay?" 

"Okay," she answered, her voice muffled and barely audible because she had 
buried her face in his shoulder. "It's just that I want to make you happy, 
Reid. I want to do anything to make you happy. I-I never felt this way with 
a man before-not Vincent or anybody. It's crazy but I sort of want to be 
your slave, Reid." 

He raised her chin and looked into her tear-filled eyes. "You don't have to 
be anybody's slave, Mona. Don't ever forget that. I understand what you're 
saying and I'm immensely flattered, honey. Honestly, I am. But only sick 
people want slaves and only sick people want to be slaves." 

"Okay, I'm sick then," she said. 

"No, you're different, but you're not sick. I won't let you be-not ever." 
Reid paused, reflecting for the first time since their sexual encounter on 
the beach that, in reality, he was the sick one. Not sick maybe, but 
certainly unusual. After all, they locked adult men up in prison for 
carrying on sexually with girls Mona's age. Or did they? At eighteen, 
perhaps she had reached the age of consent. But when they screwed two years 
ago, she wasn't. If old Cecil Seagram had arrived home and caught them 
fucking and sucking there on the living room couch he could have had him 
locked up. He hadn't given the matter much thought, or, if he had, he 
guessed he knew that Cecil Seagram would not be in much of a position to 
press charges since he'd been playing sex games with his own daughter. 

"I don't care," Mona was saying. "I want to be your sex slave. I want to do 
whatever you say." 

"Very well, slave," he said, capitulating for the moment, "let's lie on our 
sides and kiss each other on the lips. You may, however, continue fondling 
me with your hand." He laughed. 

"In fact, I forbid you to stop playing with my prick that way. In the 
meantime, slave, my hands will have their way with your titties. Is that 
clear, slave?" He tweaked her nipple. 

"Whatever you say, master," Mona said brightly. 

Good, he thought. He had gotten her out of her masochistic, crying mood. He 
kept forgetting that, actually, she was a little girl. Yes, emotionally she 
was a child and it was important that he remember this at all times and act 
accordingly He didn't want to hurt her. Not ever. He loved her truly and 
deeply and wanted the best for her. He had never felt such unselfish love 
for a female before. It was weird, he knew, but if losing her would mean 
making her happy, then he knew he would give her up. He did truly love her 
and therefore wanted her happiness more than anything else. 

Right this instant he wanted to love her with his mouth. He wanted to 
express his love for her that way by tasting her all over. He continued 
massaging her beautiful breasts and, as he did this, slid down so that he 
could taste her tits, lick them and suck on them. For one thing, she liked 
to have her boobs sucked-it made her love slit nice and juicy and ready for 
his tongue and cock-and for another thing he went into a kind of trance 
whenever he tasted her body. He liked it that way, his feelings so powerful 
and total that he slipped into a kind of controlled lunacy as he laved her 
body everywhere with his tongue. She seemed to go into a trance at these 
times, too, so that they were both off somewhere experiencing the most 
powerful emotions possible-lost and away from anything and everything that 
could bother or torment anybody, just lost in the beauty and wonder and lust 
of the moment that was now and only now. Fuck yesterday and fuck tomorrow. 
To hell with them... only now... now.... 

And now he was kissing-tongue-kissing Mona's sensitive nipples that grew 
still more sensitive by the second. She rolled from side to side slightly as 
he probed with his tongue, trying for ever pore, not wanting to leave the 
tiniest spot unbathed with his saliva, wanting to deliver excruciatingly 
beautiful tingling delight to this lovely girl who moaned in response to his 
efforts. 

Mona was clutching his head and feeding her breasts to his hungry mouth that 
lapped noisily, stopping only occasionally to press itself to her own mouth 
so that their tongues could interplay reassuringly before he returned once 
again to her breasts. Reid's hand rotated, moving circularly, over the 
gentle rise of her love mound and finally he inserted the tip of his finger 
into the top of her love slot. He reached up, touching his guzzling wet 
mouth and wet his finger with saliva, then returned to Mona's clitoris and 
daintily ran his finger about the little cluster of flesh. She crossed her 
legs at the ankles and began pumping slowly, enjoying the finger against her 
sizzling nerve center. 

"Reid, you do-do everything so perfectly," she breathed. "You know just 
where it feels best... just how to do it until you drive me out of my 
mind...." 

As she spoke, her own hand explored every inch of his stiff shaft and she 
squeezed and released, squeezed and released his organ as though it were the 
most blessed object in the world. "I want it in my mouth, Reid," she cried. 
"I want to suck on your dripping cock... please... please!" She tried to 
rise, like a patient too weak to sit up or move but determined nevertheless 
to reach an objective, but Reid held her on her back. 

"No sweetheart," he commanded. "I want yours in my mouth first. Then you-you 
can-if you want to, but now I want to lick your beautiful cunt, baby... lick 
your gorgeous pussy-snatch." 

Reid descended, kissing, showering hot, wet kisses along her rib cage and 
spasming stomach as he homed in on the dripping target of Mona's love nest. 
When finally he reached it, she instinctively drew her leg up high so that 
he could slip his head under and gain access to the hot prize of her vagina. 
He pushed her knees up on her chest then and began kissing her inner thighs, 
his kisses getting wetter and nearer her eager nest. Her moaning became 
pitiful pleas as she begged him to sink his tongue into her cunt. 

First, Reid kissed conventionally up and down the length of Mona's gushing 
crater. Then, almost imperceptibly, he let his tongue play along the wet 
vaginal lips. When he was certain she could stand no more delay, he took the 
cunt lips, one at a time, into his mouth and bathed them with his tongue, 
nursed on them just as he had sucked on her nipples. Once, he looked up and 
saw Mona's features distorted into the most serene yet near-insane 
expression he had ever observed. Mona had been, literally, transported into 
another realm. Happy that his endeavors were well received, he continued. He 
parted the cunt lips finally and lapped at the inner lips, inserting his 
tongue up into her pussy as far as he could from time to time. Then, 
inevitably, he moved in on the clitoris, stabbing its flowerlike texture 
with his tongue tentatively, then deliberately and urgently as she moaned 
and chanted, "Good... soooo good... ohhhhhh...." 

He had made up his mind to make her come that way. She had been so unselfish 
and giving of herself. Why shouldn't she come this way, he thought. But just 
before she reached her climax, as she had several times before, she lifted 
his head and crushed him to her breast. 

"Don't you want to come with my tongue?" he queried, panting. 

"Yes, yes... but I want you inside me, too. Oh, Reid, it was so wonderful... 
I-I almost blacked out...." 

"Let me make you come that way," he asked. "I want you to be happy." 

He again started to lower his head to her twat, but she stopped him. "No, 
Reid... no... I want you to fuck me. Do you want me to-to suck you? Do you? 
I will... oh, I will...." 

She was willing to please-his little sex slave had deprived herself of an 
oral climax and now she wanted to be fucked but she was still thinking of 
him. He stopped her downward lunge. "No, baby," he said. "Maybe later. Right 
now, let's fuck... fuck." 

Reid raised himself onto his elbows and endured the eternal second while she 
spread her leg to one side so that her legs were wide apart and ready for 
fucking. Then he held his throbbing cock in his hand and wiped it up and 
down her cunt so that their juices intermingled into a mushiness beyond 
comprehension. He rubbed the head of his prick against her clit and then 
down as far as her rectum, occasionally dipping it inside Mona's waiting 
channel for a second to heighten the anticipation. 

"Oh, stick it all the way in! Stick it all the way up inside me, please. 
Don't torture me any longer, Reid. Fuck me! Fuck my pussy!" 

At last, when he himself could stand the delay no longer, Reid began his 
entrance, slowly at first, then inserted his rod with one slick, slurping 
stroke right into the mushy center of Mona's expanding and contracting 
vagina. 

"Ahhhhhh," she groaned, like some ancient soldier being speared, and the 
rhythm of love began. 

The heat and warmth of the cunt that enveloped his pulsing meat nearly 
paralyzed Reid, so furnace-like and soft was its texture and climate. He 
straightened his elbows, raising himself high so that he could see the 
entrance and exit of his member as it probed between the soft cunt lips, 
poked its way into Mona's honey chasm. Mona raised her knees so that they 
rested against her shoulders, permitting him a splendid view of her cunt, 
buttocks and the tiny pink eye of her puckered anus. 

A contented, unselfish-almost maternal-smile played about the corners of her 
mouth as she watched the lustful and enraptured look on Reid's face. It 
seemed odd, but Mona obviously enjoyed spreading herself this way, offering 
blatantly her private and most secret places for his pleasure and 
inspection. She was enjoying his enjoyment, and he realized that hers was a 
very special look, an expression that could not be duplicated except in just 
such a sexual activity. 

"You like to watch your cock slide in and out of me, don't you?" she said, 
finally. "It makes you feel powerful?" 

"Yes, powerful," he said, "but it's beautiful, too-looking at you with your 
legs wide apart and offering me everything. It's like every obstacle-every 
female obstacle and resistance of a lifetime removed," he said. 

"I understand," Mona said, her eyes moist with pleasure and compassion. 
"That's why I'm holding my legs up so high. If I were a man I'd like to fuck 
a girl just the way you're fucking me. That's the way I'd do it-at least 
part of the time. But I like it, too. I like to do this because it tells you 
I'm all yours-that everything and anything I have to offer is yours. I just 
want to make you happy, and then I'm happy, too. Oh... that feels so 
goooood... yes, keep sticking it in all the way up... ummmmm...." 

Conflicting emotions and desires warred within Reid as he fucked this girl 
of his dreams, watched his flesh hunk cram itself into Mona's snatch. He 
loved fucking her this way, but, at the same time, he longed to suck her, 
too. Finally, with effort, he withdrew his cock and bent down and lapped her 
love juices, tantalized her clit and smooth, sopping wet inner thighs with 
his tongue. While he did this, she placed her feet on his shoulders and 
gently gripped his head, indicating she enjoyed his lust for her and 
understood his insane need to fuck her and suck her at the same time. 

After a few minutes of licking between her legs, once again he inserted his 
throbbing prick into her cunt and settled into a steady, stabbing rhythm to 
the accompaniment of her ecstatic moaning. 

"Put-put your hand under my ass, Reid," she begged. "Hold my ass with your 
hand hard and pull my body toward your sticking prick, would you? I love to 
feel your hand tugging at my ass while you fuck me. Ummm, that's it. Oh, I 
love it when you just use my body-when you shove your thing hard at me and 
just pull at my ass like you need me more than anything in the world... like 
you're forcing me and need me so much you've gone crazy because you're 
fucking me. Then, it makes me crazy, too... crazy and beautiful... fucking 
and crazy and beautiful...." 

It was as though Mona were experiencing a kind of religious orgy-as though 
she had become unintelligible and were speaking in "tongues." She was 
babbling and releasing the inhibitions of a lifetime-spewing forth ideas and 
words she would hot dream of uttering except in the act of sexual 
intercourse. Then she made an unusual request, and Reid complied. As gently 
as possible, he tickled her tight little anus-slippery and wet from the cunt 
juice that ran down into the crack of her ass-and, finally, began inserting 
his little finger. She squealed, spreading her legs still wider, as wide as 
possible, as his finger entered her eager rectum. 

"Oh, Reid! Oh, God! You're sticking me everywhere! Everywhere! Oh, come up 
here and stick your tongue in my mouth, too. I want you to be sticking me 
everywhere with something! I wish you had three cocks!" 

Reid again complied. He kissed her, forcing his tongue into her mouth and 
simulating fucking while his ramrod drove into her cunt and his finger 
jiggled like a vibrator in her asshole. For a moment, he thought she would 
fling herself from the bed with joy. She was in a kind of sexual seizure, a 
fit, as he stuck and twisted and tantalized her apertures. Then, to heighten 
her sensations, he also used his spare hand to finger-fuck her ear with his 
little finger, pausing only now and then to reach down and brush his hand 
across the nipples of her heaving breasts and give them a hard squeeze. 

She was sucking on his tongue, drawing it deep into her mouth and grunting 
like a frenzied animal in heat as the bed rocked and he continued poking, 
probing, stabbing, jabbing her to a near-hallucinatory state. Now, even 
though he wasn't sure either of them could stand the pleasure much longer, 
he replaced his little finger with his middle finger and shoved it up her 
rectum all the way to his knuckle. There, he could feel his own prong 
plunging its way into her craving interior through the thin partition of 
flesh. He jiggled his finger faster, massaged his own cock with his finger 
up inside Mona's ass. 

Now her heels not only pummeled his back, they threatened to batter his back 
and cave in his rib cage! He enjoyed her reaction however and felt no pain. 
He pulled his tongue from her mouth and, breathing huskily in her ear, asked 
her again and again if she liked what he was doing He asked her if she liked 
his cock inside her pussy and his finger in her rear and his hand that now 
squeezed her breasts. He knew the answer, of course, but he wanted to hear 
her say she liked it and he knew she wanted to admit she liked it. In a way, 
it was a kind of therapy for both of them. First, she would tell him, in 
detail, that she loved everything he was doing to her body, and then he 
would tell her how much he loved doing all these things to her body and 
making her happy. 

After a long time, Mona asked, "Shall we come, my sweet? I want you to shoot 
your nice creamy sperm into my cunt while I climax. Shall we, darling?" 

Reid's control-his ability to hold back for so long-had even impressed 
himself. Yes, he was eager to let his balls jerk and explode and send his 
juice scalding from his balls and up through his shaft into her seething 
cunt. Yes, indeed. Christ, yes! "Okay, let's," he rasped. "You tell me when, 
but I-I can't wait much longer. Just tell me when you're ready and we'll go 
off together." Thus far, in their relationship they had been amazingly 
successful at achieving simultaneous climaxes and he didn't want to ruin 
this very special fuck by not coming together. "Just-just tell me when," he 
repeated. 

Mona's ankles slid along the backs of his legs now, the way they always did 
when she was getting ready to climax, and locked behind his knees for 
leverage. Then she began a slightly more intense rhythm, a sort of rotating 
movement that created friction over the entire area of his cock (if that 
were possible, but it certainly seemed that way!) and, at the same time, 
made his organ exert pressure just where she wanted it-in all her most 
sensitive places. 

Not more than a minute had passed before she began clinging hard, 
desperately hard to him. That was the signal, the familiar clamping of her 
arms about his neck and intense concentration on nothing but her genital 
area. Now it was just cock and cunt, with all the frills gone, and she was 
driving fanatically toward the climax she craved-had to have and would not 
be denied. Her breath came unbelievably fast-he could not understand how a 
human being could breathe in such rapid-fire bursts-and then the breath 
became whining and breathing at the same time and her buttocks and entire 
body began trembling, quivering as she braced herself for orgasm. 

"Don't stop!" she begged, over and over again. "Don't stop! Don't stop! 
Never stop! Don't stop! Never stop! Oh, Reid, please don't stop... harder, 
harder... oh... oh...." 

And then, when she began grunting, her whole body spasming involuntarily, 
bucking madly, and he knew that she was well into her orgasm, Reid let go, 
too. He delivered perhaps ten hard thrusts, the final, nearly unbearable 
ones, and then his testicles bobbed, forcing his love fluid up and out the 
end of his pulsing hard-on and splattered the inside of Mona's vagina as she 
gasped to fulfillment at the same time. 

"R-E-I-D!" she screamed, and then shivered for a long time before she lay 
still and crying beside him with her head buried in his shoulder. 

He collapsed, his full weight upon her. He tried to roll her to her side 
without removing his still jerking organ so that she would be more 
comfortable without him pressing on top of her, but she wouldn't let him. 
She wanted him to remain exactly where he was, despite his weight. He 
guessed she did not feel anything at the moment, except supreme bliss, 
peace, fulfillment, and love. At least that was the way he felt now. 

He lay there, panting and kissing her neck, totally spent but his organ 
still rock-hard inside her. Twice before, at Malibu, they had rested in just 
such a position and then, without ever withdrawing his member, they had 
fucked again. But this night had been too strenuous. He doubted if Mona 
desired such a double-fuck and, he strongly suspected, he wouldn't be 
capable of it anyway. 

After a long time, Mona hugged him hard. "Ohhhh," she sighed. "It just seems 
to get better and better with us, doesn't it? There could have been an 
earthquake, anything, and I wouldn't even have noticed. I was completely out 
of it. Thank you, darling. That was wonderful... wonderful...." 

"No, I think it gets worse and worse," Reid said, laughing with effort. "Why 
are you such a lousy lay?" He kissed her full on the lips then and, as he 
did so, he became aware that his cock was slowly dwindling back to its 
normal state. Well, no double-fuck tonight, he thought, and actually he was 
grateful. He felt totally spent. "Thank you," he said. "You're the most 
gorgeous, lovely, beautiful, sexy, little"-he groped for words-then decided 
to tease her some more-"sex object I've ever known." 

She bristled. "Sea; object! Is that all I am--a-a sex object?" She pulled 
away from him, pouting, and his cock slipped out of her vagina. "I'm just a 
pussy that walks and talks?" 

He pulled her close again. He was certain that she knew he had been only 
teasing. "All right then-how about love object?" 

She bit his ear. "That's slightly better," she said, "but I'm still not wild 
about the object part!" 

"It just means that you're the object of love, of my whole existence," he 
explained pontifically. "I'm fond of you, you know." 

"Cut the crap," Mona said. "You mean I'm the object of your-your pecker. 
That's all I am-I'm simply the object of your horny old pecker, true?" She 
giggled. 

Reid spanked her lightly on the buttocks, then reached over and turned out 
the night light and held her close. "Naturally, you are the object of my 
male organ-no question about that-but I would say it goes a bit deeper than 
that. Good night, little pet." 

"Good night you-you animal!" 

Mona growled. They both laughed, then cuddled close together and settled 
into a deep sleep. 

Chapter Five 

Over coffee the next morning, Mona posed a very logical question. "Why 
should I rent an apartment?" she asked. "Why can't I just stay here with 
you?" 

"If you were anybody but Cecil Seagram's daughter that would be the simple 
thing to do," Reid said. "Unfortunately, your father is a very big man in 
the business-one of the biggest-and I don't think he'd be exactly ecstatic 
about his teenage daughter shacking up, with a guy twice her age. Also, I'd 
be crucified. No job-nothing. It's going to be a little tricky explaining 
your working as my personal secretary, much less explaining our living 
together. No, you have to maintain your own residence. We'll spend as much 
time as possible together, of course-either in your apartment or mine-but 
you must have your own address." 

Mona agreed to the wisdom of this and when Reid left for the office, she 
assured him she would rent the vacant apartment first thing and then come to 
the agency at 10:30 sharp. Reid offered to write the rent check for her, but 
she just laughed in his face. "Look, Daddy sends me more than enough to live 
very comfortably. He gives me anything I want. I refuse to be a kept woman, 
at least as long as I can afford it. Go to your office and don't ever 
mention money again, sweetheart." 

Reid had merely shrugged. "Do you know how many guys would like to know a 
beautiful eighteen-year-old who makes love like a skilled courtesan and is 
rich to boot?" 

"Millions of 'em," she had said, "but I only care about one." 

Reid was still thinking about this miracle-his finding Mona again-when he 
parked in his stall behind the agency. Carrying his briefcase filled with 
the mediocre ideas he had developed at Malibu, he pushed through the double 
doorway of Luben's and entered the elegant reception room. 

"Good morning, Myra," he said, smiling at the blonde, big-busted 
receptionist. 

"Good morning," she said. "Good to have you back, sir. Enjoy your vacation?" 

If she only knew, he thought. "Yes, thank you, but of course it wasn't all 
play. It was considered a kind of 'working vacation.' Still, it was 
relaxing. Good to see you, Myra." 

Reid pushed the elevator button and a moment later exited on the third 
floor. For just an instant, he felt a twinge of guilt. Three weeks and he 
had come up with what amounted to crap so far as the Gibbons and Wonder-Lift 
accounts were concerned. The problem now would be to disguise this fact from 
Arthur Luben and dodge pointed questions until he could come up with some 
answers before making his presentations to either of the accounts. He smiled 
amiably at employees he passed and chatted briefly with the art director, 
Jules Guthrie, and his assistant, Anita Trent. Then he went to his office 
and sat, discouraged, behind his desk. 

He had accomplished damned little since he'd last sat behind this desk, he 
thought, and the idea depressed him. He removed his notes and tentative 
ideas for the Wonder-Lift campaign. Gibbons toothpaste was one thing; 
Wonder-Lift was quite another matter. Showing a girl smiling with sparkling, 
white teeth while admirers commented on the beauty of her smile could take 
any number of variations, all of them at least passable. But showing a 
well-stacked girl with jutting breasts and having a couple of guys 
commenting: "Wow! What a set of knockers! And she owes it all to her 
Wonder-Lift bra!" That wasn't yet possible. Someday maybe, but for the 
present the old mammaries had to be handled with care and discretion. That, 
Reid guessed, was his problem. He had been trying to come up with something 
entirely new in advertising brassieres while the nature of the product (plus 
traditional puritanical attitudes) blocked any new and creative approach he 
could conceive. He had been bumping his head against a wall, figuratively 
speaking, and now he resigned himself to the fact that his campaign would 
have to be along conventional lines. 

The key then, he decided, would be to mask a rather ordinary approach with a 
hyper-dramatic presentation-particularly the presentation to the sponsors. 
Whether the campaign actually sold Wonder-Lift brassieres to the public was 
another matter. He'd worry about that later. Right now he had to make the 
account happy--the account and, of course, Arthur Luben. Otherwise, he would 
be out on his ass. The boy wonder burned out at the age of thirty-six. 

How to present it? he asked himself. How? He was sitting there wracking his 
brain when his phone buzzed. He pressed the intercom button and said, "Reid 
Hartley." 

It was Arthur Luben. "Welcome back, Reid. How was the vacation?" 

"Fine-just fine. Just what I needed." What Arthur really wanted to know was 
whether or not he had completed and finalized his thinking regarding 
Wonder-Lift and Gibbons. They had discussed his three-week "working 
vacation" in detail before Reid's departure, and Arthur had made it clear 
that he expected results upon Reid's return. So now the boss was fishing. 
No, more than that! He was asking him into his office for a "chat," which 
was merely a subtle way of asking him for a "report" on his progress. 

"Certainly, Arthur, I'll be right there," Reid said. He hung up the phone 
and sat scowling. He would just have to fake it, he decided, and rose and 
went out the door and down the hall to Arthur Luben's office. 

The door was open. Art Luben, slightly bald, paunchy, his complexion florid, 
sat dictating a letter onto his tape recorder. Reid cleared his throat and, 
looking up, Arthur gestured for him to sit down in the big leather chair in 
front of the desk. Reid went over and sat down. 

"Sincerely, Arthur Luben-" Arthur said, finishing his dictation and turning 
off the machine. He smiled then; gave Reid one of his enormous, toothy 
smiles. "Well, Reid, naturally I'm curious as to how you've progressed with 
the Wonder-Lift campaign. Where do we stand?" 

Reid stared him straight in the eye and, feigning confidence, even 
cockiness, told the biggest lie of his career in the advertising business. 
"Couldn't be better," he said. "I've come up with an idea I guarantee will 
dazzle the nipples off the Wonder-Lift people." He paused for dramatic 
effect and grinned. "If you don't mind though, I'd rather keep it to myself 
for the present. Art. It's a bit unorthodox, but I'm sure you'll be 
pleasantly surprised. Let's put it this way. I guarantee results, but I have 
a finishing touch I want to work out before I reveal it." 

"Jesus Christ, Reid," Arthur Luben said. "This isn't Scotland Yard. Can't 
you give me a-a slight clue? After three weeks, I think I deserve a hint at 
least. They're coming here for the presentation next Monday, you know." 

Reid merely smiled, exuding self-confidence. "I am well aware of that date, 
Art," he said, "but please trust me." 

Art Luben stared at his employee incredulously. As Reid had calculated, 
Arthur knew that Reid did not lie-at least he never had before-and he also 
knew that Reid was capable of delivering dramatic results. Therefore, he did 
not press the matter. He merely mumbled something about three goddamn weeks 
vacation and now all he was getting was "wait and see." To save face, he 
switched the subject to the Gibbons toothpaste account. Now Reid decided to 
mingle his lie with at least some truth. 

"Frankly, Art, I haven't decided on the final approach. I have several ideas 
worked out in fairly complete detail, but I haven't decided on the best 
approach as yet. That presentation is a week after Wonder-Lift and, if you 
don't mind, I'd rather take one account at a time. I assure you, we're on 
firm ground with Wonder-Lift," he lied. He shrugged. "Gibbons is shaping up 
to be rather conventional-good but nothing startling." 

Arthur sighed in exasperation; then good-naturedly he said, "Okay, Reid, I 
give up. I might as well go home and talk to my German shepherd. I'd get 
more answers. Good to have you back-at least I suppose it's good to have you 
back. Frankly, I'm hung-over and I feel lousy. If you say the Wonder-Lift 
thing is locked in tight, I'll take your word for it. Now get the fuck back 
to work, mysterious one." 

Reid breathed a sigh of relief, stood up and went to the door. Then, 
remembering, he turned. "Oh I almost forgot, Art," he said. "I've got Cecil 
Seagram's daughter coming in this morning. I want her to work with me-at 
least on a temporary basis-as my personal secretary. These next few weeks 
are going to be pretty hectic for me and she'll be a big help to me. I 
figure we'd start her at about six-hundred a month. It's just a token 
salary. She doesn't need it, of course." 

Arthur Luben ran his hands over his face. "Cecil Seagram's daughter. How do 
you know she isn't a spy or something, for crissake?" 

"No chance," Reid said. "She hates her old man's guts. I've known her a long 
time. She's okay and she'll be a big help to me on the Wonder-Lift deal." 

"Now you're taking over personnel's job," Arthur Luben said in disbelief. 
Maybe we should rename the agency Luben and Hartley." 

Reid started to speak, but Arthur waved him away. "Okay, okay," he said. 
Anything you want so long as we make, the Wonder-Lift people happy. Now get 
the hell out! Please go away! You're driving me crazy, Reid. Absolutely 
nuts. Go away!" 

"Yes, sir," Reid said, and left. When he reached his own office again, he 
sat staring at the ceiling for a long time. Well, at last he had reached the 
depths, he thought. He had resorted to outright lies to save his job. Unless 
he came up with something really dramatic, bold and successful, Arthur Luben 
would kick his ass out. That was a certainty. "Shit!" he said aloud. 



As promised, Mona arrived promptly at 10:30. The buzzer of his inter-com 
sounded and the receptionist, Myra, announced Mona's arrival. "Send her 
right up," he said. 

Mona sprang into his office jauntily, looking like no other secretary the 
firm of Luben had ever hired. She wore a miniskirt, which was all right, but 
her top was a kind of sleeveless Tee-shirt which was very tight and made it 
painfully apparent that she wore no bra. She also wore a beret. All in all, 
it was the most outlandish office attire Reid had ever seen. 

"Where do you think you are?" he asked. "At a rock festival?" 

She looked at him, apparently puzzled, then adjusted the angle of her beret 
and examined herself. "Rock festival? This is conservative! Would you rather 
I wore my Indian outfit?" 

Reid shook his head. "No, never mind, not that! I guess it doesn't matter. 
Arthur Luben already suspects I'm crazy, anyway! That outfit will remove all 
doubt. Forget it... it's delightful... really. Sit down a minute. Then I'll 
introduce you around and everybody'll know I've gone kooky. After that, you 
can help me try to think up something for the Wonder-Lift campaign. Oh, and 
you'd better start wearing a bra. The Wonder-Lift people might not cotton to 
the bare breast look, okay?" 

Mona was pouting. She sat down and stared at the floor. "I'm sorry if I 
embarrass you. It was a nice warm day and I thought ad agencies, being 
liberal and all, wouldn't mind a girl who dresses a little different." She 
crossed her legs and Reid could clearly see the outline of her snatch and 
the dark patch of her crotch through her white panties. 

"No, it's all right," he said reassuringly. "You look fine. Maybe we need a 
little different look around here. At least you're wearing panties." 

She cheered up, smiling. "Yes, white ones!" 

"So I saw," Reid said. "Good girl." He got up then and came around and 
kissed Mona's cheek. "Don't worry about it, sugar," he said. "You look just 
fine. Anyway, if we don't please the Wonder-Lift people, we won't have to 
worry about office attire. We'll become beachcombers or something." 

"It's really that important, huh?" she asked. 

"Yes, it's really that important," he echoed. "Come on, I'll introduce you 
to a few people and I guess you'll have to fill out an employment 
application or something." 

Mona dutifully followed him from the office and down the hall to the art 
department where she met the art director, Jules, and his assistant, Anita. 
Reid studied their reaction to her and was pleased that they seemed to 
accept her. But then they were art people and art people accepted almost 
anything. 

As they were about to leave, Anita whispered in his ear, "I see you had an 
interesting vacation," she said. "I trust you came up with lots of fresh 
ideas-nice young ones." She laughed and blinked significantly. "I like her, 
Reid. Really. We need something a little unusual around here to perk us up. 
I love her Wonder-Lift bra!" 

Reid merely grinned, trying not to appear too lecherous, and they went down 
the hall, sticking their heads in and making informal introductions. 
Everybody seemed to have a twinkle in their eyes, as though they guessed 
that the relationship between Reid and his new personal secretary was 
something other than pure business. 

Oddly, it was Arthur Luben himself who was the most gracious and responsive 
in greeting Mona to the firm. Perhaps it was out of respect for her father, 
Cecil Seagram, an acknowledged genius in advertising, but Arthur embraced 
her as he might his own daughter and expressed confidence that Mona would be 
a tremendous asset to the firm and, in particular, to Reid Hartley. There 
was a great future in advertising for a bright girl with fresh ideas and the 
courage to vary from the norm (he was apparently referring to her attire) 
and he assured Mona that he would have his eye on her. 

As he hugged her, Reid thought: Eye on her, hell. He would like to have his 
prick in her. Arthur Luben seemed delighted with Mona and spent a long time 
staring directly at her large, dark nipples that showed through the filmy 
material of her blouse. "If you have any problems, dear-any problems at 
all-feel free to consult me." He laughed nervously, still staring at Mona's 
luscious boobs. "After all, Reid here doesn't have the answers to 
everything. Yes, feel free to bring any problems that might arise directly 
to me, your president." 

They left the office and just before they entered the elevator to go 
downstairs to the personnel office, Reid glanced back and saw Arthur Luben 
standing in the hall, still admiring Mona's strikingly voluptuous body. He 
quickly ducked back into his office when he saw that Reid had seen him. 

Iris Periwinkle of personnel was probably the only member of the firm that 
seemed somewhat hostile toward Mona. Of a conservative nature, she seemed 
shocked at Mona's attire. More important, though, it was obvious that she 
resented anyone being hired without first going through proper channels. 
When she learned that Mona had been hired to start at $600 a month she 
frowned with disapproval, handed Mona an application and practically 
demanded that Mona list references covering the past five years. 

Reid immediately put an end to her insults by taking the application from 
Mona. "Mister Luben himself approved this employee, Miss Periwinkle." And 
then to Mona, "Fill the application out at your leisure-no rush-and don't 
worry about references." He turned his gaze once again to the angry Miss 
Periwinkle. "I think any personnel department that asks an eighteen-year-old 
to list references going back five years is due for an overhaul. What do you 
want? The names of people she used to babysit for? Really, Miss Periwinkle, 
let's not be ridiculous. Fortunately, you'll be retiring no doubt before 
this girl has a work history that goes back five years. Come on, Mona. We've 
work to do." 

Back in his office, Reid closed the door and sat with his feet up on the 
desk. He told Mona to stretch out on the couch and relax. "We can think 
better relaxed!" he said. "All that crap about conducting yourself like an 
officer in the army or a mortician never yielded one creative idea." He 
scratched his head. "You know, I think you've already given me an idea. I 
see a television spot... a girl walking... she's bra-less and the camera 
gives us a closeup of her jiggling, firm young breasts. Voice over says: 
"Freedom... Do your own thing... It's the 'in thing' if you're eighteen... 
but every woman isn't eighteen... That's when Wonder-Lift gives you that 
free look... It's like wearing no bra at all." 

Reid frowned. "What do you think? We're selling youth and sexual attraction 
without really saying it. The camera tells the story and the voice merely 
implies. Jesus! I wish we could say, Let it all hang loose! That would be 
perfect-sell like crazy-but there's no way we could get away with it." He 
hit the desk with his fist. "That's the trouble with trying to market 
something in a medium with so many restrictions. 

"I think it's good," Mona said. "Why not? I agree about the 'Let it all hang 
loose' idea-you couldn't use that-but the rest seems perfectly fine to me. 
Mrs. Saggy Tits thinks she will look eighteen again. Why not?" 

"Why not?" Reid repeated. "Why not?" His mind was elsewhere, racing and 
trying to figure the reactions of the Wonderlift people. "I hate to ask you 
this," he said finally. 

"Ask what?" 

"Would you consider sitting in this office wearing nothing on top but a 
Wonder-Lift bra?" 

Mona nodded. "Sure, if you think it would do any good?" she said. "Sure, why 
not?" 

"Good," he said, and then his eyes lit up. "There's one other thing. Again, 
I hate to ask it-I hate to make an exhibitionist of you-but would you 
consider wearing that miniskirt without panties? All you'd have to do is 
cross your legs just once." Reid laughed evilly. "Lester Forbes and Winthrop 
Corey-they're the Wonder-Lift heads we have to please-will flip. I just know 
it! Would you do it?" 

"You know I'd do anything for you, Reid," Mona said. "In fact, if you wanted 
me to, I'd even go to bed with one of them if it meant your job." 

Reid waved his hand and grimaced. "No, no," he said. "Let's not be 
ridiculous. That won't be necessary." Oddly, although he had instantly 
rejected the idea of Mona having any sexual contact with the Wonder-Lift 
people, her idea was an excellent one. He found himself visualizing Mona 
alone in the office, the door locked, with one of the Wonder-Lift men while 
he lunched with the other in a restaurant. He pictured Mona removing her bra 
and displaying her bare tits for either Forbes or Corey. No, he thought, 
that would be asking too much, but he found himself storing the idea for 
future use should it become absolutely necessary. 

"You're a sweetheart," he said. "Already you're an inspiration to me and 
this is only your first day! Hey, let's get the hell out of here and go 
someplace nice for a few drinks and dinner." He caught himself then. "Oh, I 
keep forgetting you're a minor. You can't drink, can you?" 

"They hardly ever ask me for identification," she said, "but-but we just 
take off-I mean, leave the office? This is my first day. I don't want to-to 
make a bad impression." 

He chuckled. "Baby, there aren't any time-clocks here. So long as you 
deliver-please the accounts-you can do anything you please. I'm the boss and 
I say, let's split out of here." 

"Gee, I certainly love this job," Mona said, standing. "Not too challenging, 
but the work load is light." 

"Don't worry your pretty little head, sweet. You've given me the answer to 
the whole Wonder-Lift problem. You deserve lunch and the afternoon off. I 
think we should be able to think of something to do this afternoon, don't 
you?" 

Mona reached down and fondled his balls. "Yes," she breathed. "If we try 
really hard we should be able to think of something." 

Reid broke away, pressed the inter-com button and informed Myra that he 
would be out for the remainder of the day and to take any messages and hold 
them for tomorrow. Myra said, "Yes, sir," and Reid and Mona left. 

Chapter Six 

"I feel practically naked without panties," Mona said, grimacing as she 
stared across the office at Reid behind his desk. Reid glanced at his 
wristwatch. Lester Forbes and Winthrop Corey, the Wonder-Lift advertising 
men, were due to arrive in about ten minutes. Despite his experience, his 
stomach was fluttering inside like crazy. This presentation literally meant 
his job; the entire agency was waiting for the outcome. Still, he didn't 
want to coerce Mona. 

"You don't have to go through with this if you don't want to, Mona," he 
said. "I mean it." 

"No, I want to help you, Reid. I want to go through with it. I just feel 
funny not wearing panties with this miniskirt, that's all." 

"Okay, let's try it again. You've unbuttoned your blouse and they're staring 
at your bare breasts, right? I'm still standing at the pedestal, talking 
about the visual aspect of the TV spot, but by now they're probably not 
listening to me. They're staring at you. Now, slowly and not too obviously, 
you cross your legs and give them a quick glance at your little fur-burger. 
It has to be slow, with your leg raised fairly high, but you can't seem too 
overly coquettish." 

"Fur-burger?" Mona asked, puzzled. 

"Sorry," Reid said. "I mean your pussy. Fur-burger's just a synonym for the 
same thing-you know, for the oral connoisseurs." 

"Oh," Mona said. "Yes, of course. The cunt lappers." 

"Precisely," Reid said. "Now shall we try it again?" 

Mona did not remove her blouse during this rehearsal-that would come 
later-but she slowly crossed her legs. Even from a standing position they 
would be able to see her delicious little snatch, Reid concluded. 
"Excellent," he said. "Perfect. Do it just like that. Make sure Forbes gets 
a nice view. He's the one who actually makes the decisions. Corey's just a 
figurehead and goes along with whatever Forbes says, so you want to make 
sure he gets a good look at that nice little twat. Make him drool." 

Reid went over to a picture of a huge sailing ship on the wall and tampered 
with the lower right hand corner. He tapped the spot, then seemingly 
satisfied, he returned to his desk and sat down and glanced at his watch 
again. 

"What were you doing?" Mona asked. 

"Just checking the peephole," he said. "I guess I didn't tell you. All the 
offices here at Luben's have them. Sometimes they're very valuable. While 
clients wait they often drop very useful information... What's on their 
minds that they won't openly tell you... How much they intend to spend on a 
campaign... If and what type of competition you're faced with. Yes, they're 
very useful. In fact, Mona, after I've made the presentation and you've 
dazzled them with your charms, I'm going to try and get Corey out of the 
office-take him on a tour of the place or something-so you and Forbes can be 
alone. I-I don't want you to do anything, of course, but-well, maybe he'll 
ask you out to dinner or something. I'm not suggesting that you prostitute 
yourself. I'm simply saying that you be nice to him. After the contract is 
signed, you can tell him to go screw himself. But for now-" 

"Reid," Mona interrupted, her eyes narrow and a faint smile on her lovely 
mouth, "I told you. I'll do anything to insure your success with 
Wonder-Lift. And I meant it. Leave everything to me, will you? I'm a big 
girl now, remember?" 

Reid sighed, mixed emotions warring within him. "Okay," he said. "I just 
hope you don't have to go too far." 

Mona simply stared at him, amused. Finally, she said, "Are you going to be 
looking through the peep hole in the painting?" 

"Yes, if I can stash Corey with Guthrie in the art department, I'll look in 
to see how things are going-so I'll know the best time to return." 

Mona again smiled. It was a very mature, adult smile. "As you said, Reid, I 
hope I don't have to go too far. But the important thing right now is 
results, right? If I should have to-shall we say-go farther than 
anticipated, please don't be alarmed, darling. Remember, I'm a big girl and 
whatever I do is for you." 

Reid stared at her, wondering just what she had on her mind. He was still 
wondering when the buzzer sounded on his intercom. He picked up the receiver 
and pushed down the lighted button. "Reid Hartley here," he said. 

"A Mr. Forbes and a Mr. Corey to see you, sir," Myra's satin, purring voice 
announced. 

"Please send them right up," Reid said. 

It seemed an eternity before the two prosperous, well-dressed men appeared 
in the open doorway. Forbes had snow-white hair and was in his early 
fifties-tan, athletic-looking, the tennis type. Corey was short, plump, and 
nearly totally bald. They made quite a contrast-a kind of Mutt and Jeff team 
with Corey the "yes man" and Forbes the decision maker. Reid stood up and 
came around his desk smiling. "Gentlemen," he said. "Good to see you. Please 
sit down." 

They each sat in leather chairs which Reid had arranged so that they view 
the pedestal chart on which he had drawn the visual part of his presentation 
as well as obtain a splendid view of Mona on the couch. 

"Oh, excuse me, gentlemen," Reid said. "This is my personal secretary, Mona 
Seagram." 

Mona smiled, nodding. Corey stood up to acknowledge the introduction. Forbes 
remained seated. 

"Before we proceed further," Forbes said rather gruffly, "I feel it is only 
fair to tell you that we viewed a presentation by a rival advertising firm 
just yesterday. Frankly, we were impressed. They had even gone so far as to 
show films which would resemble the actual television commercial. I think 
you'll admit that's going considerably out of their way to please 
Wonder-Lift, at least in a preliminary meeting such as this." 

"Yes, considerably out of their way," Corey echoed, nodding. 

"Shut up, Corey," Forbes commanded. "I'm handling this." 

"Yes, sir," Corey apologized, cowed. 

"A film, eh?" Reid said, rising and walking to the pedestal chart. "Yes, 
that is going a bit far at this early stage. Well, I hope you'll extend 
Luben's the same courtesy I'm sure you extended our competitor while I 
illustrate what we have in mind to sell Wonder-Lift as it's never been sold 
before." 

"Umm, yes. Well, we'll see," Forbes grunted. "Proceed." 

Reid went into his routine-skillful patter as he turned the large sheets to 
drive home his points visually. He worked smoothly and professionally, as 
always, but he couldn't get out of his mind the fact that Wonder-Lift had 
gone to another agency first. The bastards must have contacted the other 
agency a long time ago, he thought. They had to, since the other agency had 
time to put together a film. Competing with a fucking film was no easy task, 
he knew, and he would have to sell as he had never sold before to win the 
Wonder-Lift account. Thank God for Mona. She might-just might-make the 
difference. He was nearing the crucial moment now. 

"... and so gentlemen, there you have it. Our surveys clearly show that more 
and more women under age twenty-five are going braless... this is the Age of 
Youth... older women who naturally wish to emulate youth must turn to 
Wonder-Lift for that natural, braless look... and if those women under 
twenty-five can be convinced that the natural beauty and firmness of their 
breasts can be preserved by wearing Wonder-Lift and only Wonder-Lift, we've 
won the battle. That, of course, has been the traditional motivation for the 
purchase of the brassiere... I think you'll agree that the television 
commercial I've outlined is dramatic and unique. I've given a great deal of 
thought to this, gentlemen, and I'm convinced that this approach will rocket 
the sale of Wonder-Lift brassieres to an all-time high. Naturally, you have 
to make the decision as to whether Wonder-Lift is ready to move in a 
different direction from its unimaginative competition. I welcome your 
reaction to this carefully thought out campaign, gentlemen, and I'd 
sincerely welcome your reactions, comments, suggestions. Perhaps I've 
overlooked something." 

Corey looked at Forbes and Forbes said, "Well, it is different. My only 
reservation is whether or not it's too "unique," as you put it. Mr. Hartley, 
the brassiere must still be marketed conservatively. Unfortunate, perhaps, 
but that's the fact of the matter. We do not turn to humor, for instance, in 
selling our product-I see that you were wise enough to omit that from your 
proposed campaign-and I'm not altogether certain that close-ups of jiggling, 
bra-less breasts in the marketing of brassieres is the best approach, at 
least at present. Neither am I convinced that the so-called 'braless look' 
should be held up as a thing to imitate or, for that matter, to be mentioned 
at all." Forbes paused, frowning. "I just don't know," he said. "The other 
agency took quite a different approach." 

"I'm not too sure about it, either," Corey said. 

"Oh, shut up," Forbes said. "You're not too sure about anything-ever!" 

"Am I correct in assuming then," Reid said, "that we're either altogether 
right or altogether wrong? The other agency you refer to then has proposed a 
campaign that is traditional, safe, and pretty much like brassiere 
commercials that have been around for years?" 

"I think that's a fair assumption," Forbes said directly. "Yes." 

"I see," Reid said, dropping his arms to his sides for dramatic effect. 
There was a hint of discouragement mingled with disbelief on his furrowed 
brow. "Gentlemen," he said after long silence, "I suppose I must submit to 
your judgment. In the past, you have displayed wisdom again and again in 
selling Wonder-Lift. But I must say that in the past I have also displayed 
intuition and a keen knowledge that has sold products in a quantity beyond 
the manufacturers' wildest dreams! This is my business and I would stake my 
life on the success of the campaign I have just outlined for you! I am aware 
of the reasoning behind your reticence to accept this dynamic, new concept. 
I am aware that you fear criticism from certain areas-that the bulk of the 
brassiere buyers do not live in the more sophisticated areas of New York, 
Beverly Hills, etcetera. But this is a new era. People aren't thinking the 
way they used to think, even in the Midwest and the South. The breast is no 
longer the semi-taboo subject it once was. Let me make a point. Mona?" 

Mona, as planned, seemed surprised to be included in the presentation. 
Hopefully, she would not have been-if Reid had been able to sell the 
campaign on its own merits. Now she seemed to be his only hope. 

"Yes, Mr. Hartley?" she asked. 

"I wonder if you'd assist me in making a dramatic point for these 
gentlemen." 

"Certainly, Mr. Hartley. I'd be happy to." 

"Good. Gentlemen, would you look at Mona there on the couch and tell me if 
she's wearing a brassiere?" 

Mona's breasts, as always, stood out firm and true. She was not wearing a 
tight tee-shirt which would have made the fact that she wore no bra obvious. 
Instead, she wore a multi-colored blouse that buttoned down the front with 
ruffles on either side of the buttons. 

"I-I really couldn't say," Forbes said. "Perhaps if she walked around a 
bit." 

"Can't tell," Corey said. "Unless she walks around." 

"Shut up!" Forbes said. 

When both men once again returned their attention to luscious Mona, Mona 
slowly crossed her legs. Her furry little pussy, the vertical line of pink, 
beckoning lips, was tantalizingly visible for a moment. Both Forbes and 
Corey swallowed hard. So the competition showed films, Reid thought. Screw 
'em. Show a man cunt and he forgets every film he's ever seen! 

"Now Mona, would you remove your blouse for the gentlemen? You don't mind, 
do you?" 

"Oh, no, Mr. Hartley. There's nothing wrong with bare breasts or brassieres. 
That kind of old-fashioned thinking went out ages ago!" Mona slowly 
unbuttoned the front of her blouse, slipped out of it and sat displaying her 
firm, delicious tits for Forbes' and Corey's inspection. Both men's mouths 
hung open, their eyes glued to Mona's perfectly proportioned boobs. Forbes 
actually began salivating. 

"Gentlemen, would you say that Miss Seagram's breasts are fairly 
representative of breasts throughout America today?" 

"Uh-yes," Forbes said, wetting his lips. "Certainly. Umm-hmm. Very nice, 
indeed-I mean, yes, they're representative." 

"Representative breasts," Corey said. "Yep." 

"Mona, would you walk around for the gentlemen, please?" Mona slowly 
uncrossed her legs, again giving Forbes and Corey a splendid glimpse of her 
cunt. Then she paraded back and forth, like Miss America, only with her tits 
bare and bouncing. 

"Notice how they jiggle and bob up and down, gentlemen?" 

There was no answer-just heavy breathing. 

Reid restrained his laughter. "Here, then, is a girl not wearing a bra. Here 
is a girl who attracts men because of her attractive bust line. Can you 
honestly say that older women whose breasts are not so firm and high would 
not envy such a fetching pair of breasts?" 

"Yes, yes," Forbes said, drooling. "Older women would envy her breasts. Sure 
they would. Umm-hmm. Plenty of envy. Sure." 

Forbes prick stood stiff and straight inside his pants, Reid noticed. Corey 
sat with his hands in his lap and a pained look on his round face. 

"Now, Mona, would you please put on your Wonder-Lift bra?" 

Mona sat down, crossing her legs and showing her cunt again; then she 
removed the brassiere from the sack beside her and, legs wide apart, reached 
behind and clasped the bra. It was one of the newer, more daring models 
which closely approximated the braless look. Forbes was visibly trembling as 
he stared at Mona's pussy. 

"Now, if you'll just walk around a little more for these gentlemen and let 
them compare the bouncing of your breasts wearing a Wonder-Lift bra with the 
previous bounce while not wearing a Wonder-Lift bra." 

Again, Mona paraded before Forbes and Corey, smiling and stopping and 
turning like a professional model as she went. "It's almost like wearing no 
bra at all," she cooed. "It's so comfy and nice and it doesn't irritate my 
nipples a bit." She grasped both of her breasts in her hands and jiggled 
them. "See?" she said. "They bounce just like before. Under a blouse, nobody 
could tell the difference, I bet." 

Forbes emitted an involuntary moan and leaned forward for a still closer 
view. "Just the same," he intoned. "They... bounce... just... just the 
same... yes they do--" 

"Same bounce," Corey agreed. 

"Thank you, Mona. So you see, gentlemen, women-old or young, with or without 
the assets Miss Seagram possesses-can have that natural look that we've 
agreed is desirable and attractive in a woman of any age, providing she 
wears a Wonder-Lift bra." 

Forbes looked at Reid with new eyes. "Yes, yes, I think I'm beginning to see 
your point, Mr. Hartley. Very dramatically presented, too, I must say. The 
only thing is-" 

Reid knew that the time was right for closing the deal. Forbes was almost 
won over, but Reid didn't want any more objections. In order to be 
absolutely certain, he would have to rely on Mona. Quickly, he reached for 
Corey's arm and lifted him from the chair. 

"Gentlemen, I'd like to take you one at a time to our art department and 
show you some of the preliminary sketches our director has made for 
newspaper and magazine ads. I think you'll be impressed. Mr. Corey, please 
come with me." Corey stood up and they went to the door. Reid paused there. 
Forbes still stared lustfully at Mona in her Wonder-Lift bra. Also, her legs 
were slightly apart which increased his interest. 

"I suggest you study the freedom your own product provides a young lady, Mr. 
Forbes, and I think you'll agree that the braless aspect of the proposed 
campaign has considerable merit Mr. Forbes?" 

"Yes, that's an excellent idea. You go ahead and look over the newspaper and 
magazine ads while I-uh-study the braless idea on this young lady. Strange, 
we designed this bra for that purpose but I seem entirely to have forgotten 
the point. Yes, this is an eye-opener all right. You go on ahead, Corey. 
Take your time... yes-" 

Reid winked at Mona, then led Corey down the hall to the art department. 
There, he turned the "yes man" over to Jules Guthrie, excused himself and 
went to the small room adjoining his office where he could look through the 
peep hole. Already Forbes was sitting on the couch next to Mona, asking her 
questions about the bra and how it felt. He reached out and tugged at the 
elastic straps. "No discomfort, eh?" he asked. 

"None at all, Mr. Forbes," Mona replied naively. "Yes, if I were going to 
wear a bra it would be a Wonder-Lift. Yes sir. Here, put your hand inside 
the cup and feel how little pressure there is against my--my nipples." She 
paused. "Oh, I'm sorry. I probably shouldn't be so-so outspoken and 
everything. It's just that I keep forgetting people are all hung up about 
girls' breasts, and I'm so excited about these Wonder-Lift brassieres!" 

"That's all right, dear," Forbes panted. "Perfectly okay. This is research." 
He dipped his hand into the bra and cupped her breast. "Research... 
research," he muttered. "Yes, I see what you mean. Very little pressure 
there. Uh-take the bra off again, will you? I want to make sure this bra is 
typical and-and that you're-you're not built differently or anything." 

Mona took the bra off and Forbes bent so that his face was not more than an 
inch away from her right nipple. His prick stood up very straight now and 
there was a wet spot where its head pressed against his fly. 

"Now that we're all alone," Mona said, "this seems different. It's as though 
I were with my boyfriend or something. You know? I feel all slippery and 
excited because you're looking at my titties this way. I know this is 
supposed to be strictly business, but-" She broke off suddenly and crushed 
Forbes head to her nipple. His response was something to see. His cock 
jumped inside his pants and he grabbed both of Mona's tits and began 
fondling and massaging as his mouth sucked hard at her nipples. It was as 
though he'd suddenly gone insane with desire. 

"They-they won't be back for quite a while, Mr. Forbes. Would you mind if I 
locked the door?" Without waiting for an answer, she went over and pressed 
the lock button, then returned and lay back on the couch. 

Now Forbes was all over her, kneeling on the floor and lapping madly at 
Mona's twin ivory mounds. "Mr. Forbes?" Mona said. 

"Call me Lester," he gasped. 

"Okay. Lester, there's another place that doesn't have anything to do with 
Wonder-Lift, but-but it's getting awfully wet and it-it wants you to rub it, 
too. My pussy is all wet, Lester. It wants you... it wants you, Lester." 

Lester Forbes seemed about to go into a convulsion now as he slowly lowered 
his hand to Mona's knees, parted her smooth legs and then inched his hand up 
to her waiting, juicy slit. He sucked on Mona's boobies and began 
finger-fucking her as his mouth worked. "A little higher, Lester-on my 
tingle button. Yes... oh, that's it... ummm." 

Mona reached down and unzipped Forbes' fly now and let his throbbing meat 
monster burst free. "You have such a nice big thing, Mr. Forbes-I mean, 
Lester-and it's all wet and ready to do something to me, isn't it?" 

Suddenly, Forbes raised Mona's miniskirt, stared enraptured at her parted 
legs and her tight little twat, and dived for the furry target. He grunted 
and groaned loudly as he draped her legs over his shoulders and began 
lapping greedily at her cunt. Once a long time ago, Reid had seen a bear 
devouring a honey comb in the forest. But that bear was nothing compared to 
Forbes munching and gorging himself on Mona's delicious crotch. Forbes had 
one paw on top of her pubic mound and the other under her pumping ass, 
holding on as though he were afraid that tasty tight snatch might somehow 
get away from his hungry lips. He snorted, he snarled, he lapped and laved 
at Mona's cunt and rectum. Reid wondered if he intended to eat her alive! 
Finally, though, his face dripping wet, he climbed up on top of Mona, whose 
legs were spread wide invitingly and started to mount her. 

Mona stopped him then. "I-I'm so excited Lester," she said, "but I-I feel 
disloyal to my boss. This is supposed to be business. I'm supposed to help 
him and-well, if you don't give him the job of selling Wonder-Lift for you 
I'll-I'll just feel terrible." Slyly, Mona feigned crying and began closing 
her legs. 

"Don't worry... spread 'em apart... oh, spread your legs apart... I 
promise... Luben's will handle our account... promise." 

"Oh, Lester!" she cried gratefully. "Are you sure? You wouldn't lie to a 
girl, would you?" 

"No... no... spread 'em apart now... gotta fuck you." 

"Okay," Mona said. "As long as you promise." 

Mona spread her legs so that Forbes could mount her. Still grunting like a 
bear, he shoved his remarkably firm erection (he was no youngster) without 
delay into Mona's waiting cunt. Watching, again Reid felt mixed emotions. 
With difficulty, he had to remind himself that Mona was doing this for him, 
that probably she wasn't even enjoying herself. But if she weren't enjoying 
herself, she certainly was a remarkable actress! Academy Award material! 

As he watched and listened to her murmuring in Forbes' ear as the 
executive's ass pumped hard, bouncing his cock in and out of her honey nest, 
he kept telling himself that her motive was to make him come quick and get 
the distasteful scene over with, but he found himself wanting to run into 
the room and pull the bastard off his woman. 

"Fuck me, Lester. Oh, you fuck so beautifully, Lester. Umm, umm, umm. Stick 
your hard prick way up in my pussy. Oh, that feels so good, Lester... 
ummmmmm." 

Goddam it, Reid thought. She didn't have to go that far! Hurry up and come 
and sign our contract, you dirty sonofabitch! 

Forbes was propped upon both elbows now while his cock continued to plunge 
mercilessly into Mona's tight twat. Watching, Reid clenched and unclenched 
his fists, knowing full well the tightness and heat of the pussy that Forbes 
now fucked. Jealousy surged through him, consumed him, as Mona continued 
muttering love phrases and making fuck talk in Forbes' ear. When she began 
thrusting, reciprocating by raising her buttocks high off the couch to meet 
the man's butt thrusts, Reid nearly crashed his fist into the wall. 

As he fucked, Forbes took Mona's shiny black hair in both hands, as though 
holding her prisoner, and stared directly into her face intently. It was as 
though he wanted to remain constantly aware that he was fucking an 
eighteen-year-old and that, by staring at her youthful, now contorted 
features, this awareness increased in intensity and excited his somewhat 
aged prick to its maximum performance. 

Mona was tossing her head from side to side now, running her tongue over the 
lips of her parted mouth as though in a coma or a fever. Good God! Reid 
thought, was she enjoying getting fucked by this lecherous son of a bitch? 
She certainly acted like it! Christ, even whores didn't put on this kind of 
performance! Now she was even rotating her ass-the way she did when she 
fucked with him! 

"Lester... Lester... fuck my little pussy hard... harder... harder... make 
me come, Lester." 

Reid struck the wall with all his might, fortunately not seriously hurting 
his fist. The loud thump distracted Forbes briefly. He stopped thrusting and 
looked back over his shoulder, like a cowboy with his pants down on 
horseback. "What-what the hell was that?" he asked. 

Since the sound had come from the painting, where the peep hole was, Mona 
guessed that Reid had made the noise. "It's-it's nothing, Lester. Probably 
just the janitor cleaning or something. Come on, baby, let your beautiful 
cock stick and make me come, please?" 

Once again, Lester Forbes' ass began its bouncing movement as he fucked the 
eager young cunt beneath him... at least he thought it was eager. And then 
he did an unexpected thing. He withdrew his thick, glistening-wet prick and 
stood up. "Turn over," he commanded. "Get down on your knees on the floor 
with your elbows up on the couch." 

Mona seemed perplexed. "But-but Lester... don't you want to fuck me anymore? 
I was just about to come... don't you want to fuck and make me come?" 

"Do as I tell you!" he commanded. 

The dirty bastard thinks he's over at Wonder-Lift giving orders to one of 
his underlings, Reid thought, restraining himself from hitting the wall or 
creating another disturbance. 

"But why?" Mona asked. "Don't you like to fuck me while I'm on my back?" 

"Yes, of course, but do as I tell you. Now!" 

Mona complied. "All right, Lester, honey. Whatever you say, my sugar with 
the golden prick." 

When Mona was in position, Forbes held his stiff meat in his hand and got 
down on his knees behind her. "I'm going to fuck you in the ass, Mona. Just 
relax while I ease it in. Relax and it'll be okay." 

Forbes parted the cheeks of Mona's firm butt and gazed at her puckered anus 
for a moment. Then, wearing the lustiest look Reid had ever seen on any 
human's face, he poked the big purple head of his meat wedge at Mona's rear 
entrance. 

"Oow, oow... ouch," Mona squealed. "Not so hard, Lester. It's so big to go 
in that little hole... easy... easy... please, Lester... put it in slow, 
huh?" 

"Just relax, baby. Don't worry. It'll all be inside in just a minute. 
There... now the head's in I'll sink the rest in just a little at a time. 
Just relax!" 

Forbes was moving very fast, Reid thought, at least for an anal entrance. 
Mona's face was contorted in a slight look of pain, Reid noticed, and she 
was no neophyte to ass-fucking. After all, her own father had indoctrinated 
her to the art years ago. It had been one of his specialties. Forbes' prick 
was in Mona's ass all the way now, Reid could tell, and the executive gazed 
down at his own entrance and exit as he fucked this eighteen-year-old's 
rectum. Mona knew her role well. Although Reid told himself her artfulness 
was merely a weapon to hasten Forbes' orgasm, he felt heartbroken as she 
reached back and began fondling the old gent's dangling balls. His view of 
Mona's hand, tickling and gently manipulating Forbes' flesh sack, was 
perfect and it nearly made him ill. Was nothing sacred? Did Mona have to do 
all the things with this stranger that they-presumably lovers-had shared 
together? Jesus! Now she was even holding his cock at the base and guiding 
it in and out of her ass with her hand! 

"Oh, that is nice, Lester," Mona cooed. "I-I didn't think I could take all 
of your big thing in there, but it-it's really nice. I-I never had a man's 
thing in my-my rear before." 

Well, at least she was lying, Reid thought, trying to calm himself. 
Apparently she was just attempting to make Forbes come and was using every 
female trick she knew to accomplish this. 

"Ummm... fuck my asshole, Lester," she begged. "You're making me come this 
way. It's-it's amazing. I'm really going to come this way... I can tell... 
Oh, Lester!" 

Her prompting was getting to Forbes. The elderly man's breath came in great 
gasps now and his grunting took on a more urgent and desperate pitch. In a 
moment-at least-his eyes bulged and his hands clamped more firmly on Mona's 
hips. He began rocking her butt from side to side and slamming his cock 
harder, harder, harder still, and crying out, "I'm almost there. I'm-I'm 
coming nowwww." 

"Me, too, Lester," Mona called out, and Reid knew she was faking it. Forbes 
hadn't even fingered her clit while diddling her bottom. Maybe some girls 
could come that way, without other manipulation, but he knew that Mona 
couldn't. She had told him so. 

Forbes lay collapsed on top of Mona's back, panting, his chest heaving as if 
he might be having a heart attack. Then, very deliberately, Mona looked over 
at the painting on the wall and winked! Reid had to smile. Yes, she was 
still his baby. She was telling him that her sexual encounter with Forbes 
had all been a hoax. She had done this for him to win the Wonder-Lift 
account. Reid felt slightly better at this reassurance. 

For just an instant, Reid was tempted to go charging in his office, catch 
Forbes in the act and use his knowledge of the sexual encounter as a form of 
blackmail to insure his getting the Wonder-Lift account. He decided against 
it, though. Mona had pretty much wrapped the contract up and there was no 
need to play the game any dirtier than he had already played it. 

Forbes took his pants and went into the small, private John. By the time he 
returned, Mona had straightened herself up and the two of them sat, looking 
as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, on the couch and rested 
in silence. Finally, Forbes said, "I-I hope I wasn't too repulsive. I-well, 
I suppose I simply went out of my head for a while there." He patted her 
knee. "Thank you, my dear. Needless to say, our little affair shall remain a 
secret, correct?" 

"Oh, absolutely, Mr. Forbes," Mona assured him. "You-you assured me that I 
was not being disloyal to my boss and that Luben's would handle the 
Wonder-Lift campaign. You're an honorable man and I'm an honorable girl. You 
gave your word about the campaign and I gave you my word about secrecy. If 
we both keep our word, then there's nothing to worry about, is there?" 

Forbes squirmed a bit uneasily, as though he had forgotten all about his 
promise-as though he vaguely sensed that he was being blackmailed. But then 
he looked at Mona-sweet and innocent and lovely Mona-and his suspicions 
seemed to vanish. He smiled. "Yes, my dear, I did give you my word and I 
intend to stand by it." Again, he patted her knee. "I must say, you are most 
loyal to your boss. Admirable. Yes, very admirable." He glanced at his 
wristwatch. "Hmm. I wonder where the devil that idiot Corey is. What's 
keeping them?" He drummed his fingers on the chair of the couch. 

"I guess we should be grateful they didn't come back too soon," Mona said. 

Forbes nodded. "Yes, you have a point there, my dear. You know, I don't see 
any reason why you shouldn't be the girl in the television commercial for 
Wonder-Lift, Mona." He snapped his fingers. "Certainly. You did a splendid 
job of modeling here today. You have a lovely face and body and, certainly, 
your breasts would drive home the Wonder-Lift story vividly. I think that's 
an excellent idea. What do you say?" 

Mona seemed elated. "Oh, that would be marvelous!" she said. "Of course that 
will be up to a lot of people to decide, won't it? I mean, I have to be 
photogenic and all." 

"Of course," Forbes said, "but barring all that, I'm convinced you're the 
girl for Wonder-Lift. By jove, I'll talk to Hartley about this. If he's 
willing and you can bring it off, you may have a whole new career before, 
you, dear." 

Mona blinked shyly, appreciatively. "Oh, thank you, Mr. Forbes. That would 
be wonderful." 

Reid, still behind the wall peering through the peep hole, shook his head in 
admiration for Mona Seagram. She had handled Forbes as well as any skilled 
espionage agent, twice her age, could have done. He closed the peep hole and 
went back to the art department to fetch Corey. 

When they entered the office again, Corey began praising the sketches he had 
seen. Forbes told him to shut up and sit down. Then, he informed Reid of his 
plan to use Mona as the Wonder-Lift girl in the television commercial. 

Reid feigned surprise. "Great!" he said. "Don't know why I didn't think of 
that myself," he said. "I can see why Wonder-Lift has managed to dominate 
the market these past years. Creative management is the reason! Yes, sir. I 
can't understand why I didn't think of that idea myself." Reid reached over 
and got the contract from his desk and held it out for Forbes to sign. "If 
you'll just approve this campaign and the terms we discussed before, we'll 
get this thing going." 

Forbes held himself very erect, obviously flattered that Reid Hartley 
considered his idea to use Mona a good one. "Yes, 'creative management' has 
always been our slogan at Wonder-Lift," he boasted as he scrawled his 
signature on the contract. When he stood up, Corey stood up, too. "Don't you 
want to look at the newspaper and magazine campaigns?" Corey asked. 

"I don't think that will be necessary," Forbes said. "I think Luben's knows 
what it's doing." He extended his hand and Reid shook it; then he shook 
Corey's. 

"I look forward to this new approach you've come up with, Mr. Hartley," 
Forbes said. "Sorry to have given you such a rough time there, but I wanted 
to be absolutely certain your approach was right for Wonder-Lift." He took 
Mona's hand in both of his and gazed into her deep blue eyes. "Now I am 
completely convinced. Full speed ahead!" 

"Full speed ahead!" Corey repeated. 

"Good day," Forbes said, and both men exited, Corey following his master 
like an obedient pup. 

When they had gone, Reid embraced Mona and whirled her around the room. He 
was deliriously happy, overjoyed with their success. "Mona, baby," he said, 
"you were marvelous! I got a little jealous there for a while, but, God, you 
were sensational. You did it! Without you I'd be out on my ass and the 
Wonder-Lift account would be someone else's. We're going to let the boss 
know and then take the afternoon off again. Come on, sugar. Champagne time!" 

"I'm not sure I can even walk," Mona said, wincing. "I-I didn't expect him 
to flop me over and stick his thing up my you-know-what. Also, he wasn't 
exactly gentle when he did it." 

Reid held Mona close. "I'll make it up to you, Mona. I mean it. I'm sorry 
you had to go to such lengths, but I swear I'll make it up to you, okay?" 

Mona was amazing. She reached down, grabbed hold of his limp dick that hung 
far down his trouser leg and petted it. "I told you-you don't have to do 
anything for me, darling. I want to do anything I can to help you because 
you're the most scrumptious, beautiful lover I ever met." She kissed him 
long and full on the lips. 

"Come on," Reid said. "Let's deliver this contract to Arthur and get the 
hell out of here before you get me all excited. Besides, I think you need a 
slight rest. We'll find a nice soft booth in a nice restaurant for you to 
sit on." 

Mona reached back and held her buttocks again. "Yes, that would be nice," 
she said. 

Chapter Seven 

Naturally, everybody at the Luben Ad Agency was delighted to learn that the 
Wonder-Lift bra account would be in the capable hands of Reid Hartley. 
Phrases such as: "He's a genius" and "I wonder how he does it?" once again 
were voiced throughout the building. Every account was important to the 
agency because it made everybody's job-from the president to the 
janitor-just that much more secure. In effect, Reid was a hero until he lost 
an account. 

The final working out of details on the Wonder-Lift account was weeks away. 
Now, the immediate problem looming before Reid was the Gibbons toothpaste 
campaign. In fact, this afternoon at 3:30 he was to make the presentation. 
He was not fearful-at least not as fearful as he'd been regarding the 
Wonder-Lift thing-but he was somewhat apprehensive. Try as he might, he 
could not come up with anything really new. He would rely on Mona's 
assistance and present the strongest aspects of the ad campaigns now being 
waged by Gibbons' three leading competitors. Sex appeal was certainly 
nothing new in the marketing of toothpaste, but he intended to carry the sex 
angle as far as Gibbons was concerned to the absolute limit-farther than it 
had ever been carried in the history of toothpaste advertising. This, then, 
plus Mona, was all he had going for him. He hoped it would be sufficient. 

It was late in the morning when, with the art director's assistance, Reid 
completed the sketches for his presentation on his pedestal chart in his 
office. He went through his pitch one more time with Mona for an audience 
and when he had finished she said, "I think it's pretty good. As you say, 
there's nothing really world-shaking or new about it, but it makes sense and 
the sex angle should sell the stuff." She made a face. "Ugh, I think it's 
the worst-tasting stuff on the market. It gags me." She went over then and 
put her arms around Reid's neck. "Ummm, my sugar, sweet, honey man. You were 
magnificent last night. I hope I have something left to offer Richard 
Gibbons." 

He held her close, felt her breasts squashing against him and her little hip 
thrusts at his penis. He felt a little out of it, in a kind of semi-daze, as 
he always felt just before an important presentation. "I hope it won't be 
necessary for you to-to offer your body to Richard," he said. "It's a 
comfort knowing you're here if I need you, but dammit I should be able to 
sell the bastard on the square." 

"I hope so, too, love, but if you need me you know I'm willing and ready." 

"Yeah, I know," Reid said. "I wish you weren't such a convincing actress, 
though. Do you suppose you could take it a little easy this time-I mean, if 
your services are necessary?" 

"I'll try," Mona said. "But I figure if I'm going to make love to win an 
account I might as well make absolutely sure. That's why I guess I seem so 
convincing." 

Reid ran his hand over his face. His fingers trembled slightly. "Yes, I 
guess you have a point," he said. 

"So do you," Mona said, grinding her pelvis at his harder. "And I can feel 
it getting bigger." 

He slapped her on the buttocks lightly. "You could go to the old folks' home 
and make all the senile guys get erections, my dear." 

Just then, the buzzer sounded on the intercom. Reid picked up the receiver 
and said, "Yes, Arthur. All right. I'll be right there." He hung up, then 
said to Mona, "Arthur Luben wants to see me in his office. I wonder what the 
fuck he wants. Why doesn't he leave me alone! See you in a little while. 
Would you type that letter to the Ludlow Tire Company?" 

"Sure," Mona said. "Right away, sir." 

"Don't be a wise-ass," Reid kidded, "and take your time. Don't get one of 
those braless tits of yours caught in the typewriter carriage. Right now, 
you're the agency's biggest asset. Catch one of those beautiful boobs in the 
typewriter and the whole agency will go down the tubes." 

"I'll try to be careful, sir," Mona said, grinning. 



In Arthur Luben's office, Reid sat down and Arthur got directly to the 
point. "You did a great job with the Wonder-Lift people," Arthur said, "and 
I have every confidence that you'll do the same with Gibbons this 
afternoon." Arthur paused. He had the most annoying habit of pushing his 
nose to one side of his face with his forefinger. He did so now-just sat 
there with his nose off to the left and not saying anything. 

"What's on your mind then?" Reid asked finally. 

"Well, there's no problem actually, but I just want you to realize that 
while keeping existing accounts is essential, there is still the matter of 
acquiring new ones." 

"Arthur," Reid said, with exaggerated patience, "I've been in this business 
all my life practically. Yes, I'm aware that new accounts are important, for 
chrissake. I'm a big boy. You got a potential new account coming in. Is that 
it?" 

"As a matter of fact, we do. You're amazing, Reid. You read my mind. I want 
you to know that Luben's appreciates you." 

Reid laughed cynically. "All right, Arthur, let me read your mind a little 
farther. You've got a new account on your mind and you want me to handle it, 
correct? I'm up to my ass in major accounts, while Len Woodward is only up 
to his ankles in Mickey Mouse ones. Why don't you let Len handle it? Why 
don't you let this guy who makes as much money as I do handle something 
important?" 

Arthur Luben now transferred his forefinger to the opposite side and pushed 
his nose toward his right cheek. "I understand how you feel, Reid, but 
Len-well, let's say I have more confidence in Reid Hartley than Len 
Woodward." 

"Then may I suggest that you pay Reid Hartley more money than you pay Len 
Woodward. Confidence doesn't help pay the hospital bill when they check you 
in for ulcers, does it?" 

"You're quite right, Reid. And again, you anticipated precisely what was on 
my mind. I'm not only talking about more money, Reid. I'm talking about a 
full partnership in the firm." 

"So it's big, huh? Who is it?" 

Arthur now tugged at his earlobe. That was unusual because he was strictly a 
nose man. Yes, Reid thought, it must be big. 

"That's one of the problems. They don't know what to call it yet." 

"Arthur, may I suggest that you tell me just what the fuck you're talking 
about? Is it baby buggies, TV sets, sanitary napkins, flea powder, horse 
manure, what?" 

"It's wine," Arthur said. "They make the stuff in northern 
California-Modesto to be exact-but they want to come out with a popular 
product. They want to make a wine drink that's just as popular as root 
beer." 

"That's a problem when you limit your market to people over twenty-one only, 
isn't it? Who are these people?" 

"Milo Vineyards," Arthur said. 

Reid whistled. "Yes, that is big," he said. 

"Bigger than you'd guess. If we can do a job for them with this new product, 
we could very well take over all their advertising. They're the biggest wine 
sellers in the business, and they've got lots of money. We need a name for 
the stuff and a campaign that will not only sell them on us, but will 
actually sell the stuff to the people. In other words, no bullshit. The 
people have to go and ask for the stuff. People have to stay smashed day and 
night on the crap-whatever we call it. We want everybody from winos on skid 
row to the country club set asking for this wine." 

"Oh, that's dandy," Reid said. "Mass appeal and acceptance with a touch of 
sophistication. Maybe you'd like mothers to nurse their children with the 
stuff, too-wives to fill their husbands' thermos bottles with the stuff for 
lunch buckets." 

"Exactly. You're getting the idea," Arthur said, pushing at his nose. 

"Wonderful," Reid said. "We'll call it Poon-Tang. Sure, why not? Then guys 
will try to stick their cocks in the end of the bottle. No, better yet, 
we'll package this wine in an extra wide-mouthed bottle and provide a 
lubricant so they can fuck the bottles easier. Hurrah for Poon-Tang! You 
don't even have to bring the bottles back. Keep 'em and screw 'em. And for 
you gals, they're just the right size for insertion in the vagina on those 
lonely nights. Hurry! Hurry! Buy Poon-Tang!" 

Suddenly, Reid stopped. His brain began clicking, working the way it used to 
work. Possibilities, variations on variations flashed computerlike in his 
mind. "That's it!" he said. Not Poon-Tang... HIGH-TANG. And there's nothing 
wrong with the wife filling the thermos for her her husband. In fact, it's 
good!" Visual shots and situations streamed through his mind's eye. "Yes, 
the thermos... young people guzzling at the beach... little old ladies 
sneaking-actually sneaking a snort from their pantries... people sipping 
stuff at bridge parties... golfers... all good. Yes, yes, I think we can do 
it." 

Arthur Luben, who was famous for his imaginative powers, sat dumbstruck. "By 
God, Reid, you've got it! Beautiful! Just beautiful! HIGH-TANG! I love it! I 
wanna buy a case right now!" 

Arthur had both hands on his nose now. "Jesus, don't mention this to 
anybody, Reid-not the name, not anything. Let's get this Gibbons thing out 
of the way and get going on HIGH-TANG! You are a fucking genius, Reid. 
I've-I've just witnessed the birth of a brilliant campaign-right here in my 
office." Arthur Luben whacked his leg and jumped up and began pacing 
excitedly back and forth. "HIGH-TANG! HIGH-TANG!" he kept repeating, as 
though the words were magic. "I don't want any leaks on this, Reid. I don't 
even want the Art Department working on anything until the last minute. This 
has to be the best kept secret in the history of Luben's!" 

Reid said, "You mean Luben and Hartley, don't you?" 

Arthur Luben stopped in his tracks. "Yes-uh-yes, of course. Luben and 
Hartley. Just like I said, Reid." 

"Fine. If you don't mind, will you please have the papers drawn up so that 
the partnership will go into effect as soon as Milo Vineyards accepts the 
campaign?" 

"Right away," Arthur said. "This is going to make us a fortune, Reid. I can 
feel it. I may not be creative, but I am a business man. I know this is 
going to be the biggest thing that ever happened to Luben's." 

"Luben and Hartley," Reid said. 

"Yeah, Luben and Hartley," Arthur said. 

"I have a lot more ideas, too," Reid said, "but I'll wait until we sign 
those papers, if that's all right with you." 

"Sure, whatever you say, Reid. I'll have the agreement drawn up right away. 

"You don't have to rush," Reid said. "Day after tomorrow's okay. After we've 
signed the agreement I'll get to work on HIGH-TANG-not before. Now if you'll 
excuse me, I'm going to lunch and then make the Gibbons presentation. See 
you later, partner." 

They shook hands. "Okay, partner," Arthur said. "Good luck with Gibbons." 

"I've got it locked in," Reid said arrogantly. "After all, it's all in the 
interest of Luben and Hartley, right?" 

Then he left. 



Reid and Mona were sitting in Frascati's restaurant on Wilshire, he sipping 
a dry martini and Mona a Coke as they waited for their lunch to arrive, when 
Cecil Seagram came up to the table and said, "Hello, my dear," to his 
daughter and then, "Good to see you, Reid." 

Reid stood up and shook hands with Cecil. "Won't you join us? We're just 
about to have lunch." 

"Thank you, I think I will," Cecil said, sitting down. "My, how well you 
look," he said to his daughter. "You look wonderful. I'm very happy." 

It was true that Mona looked better than she'd ever looked, and Reid could 
tell that her father was extremely pleased. He had already finished lunch 
and said that he would just stay a few minutes and chat. 

"Thank you, Daddy," Mona said. "I'm sorry I haven't called or visited you, 
but I've been so busy. I'm working at, of all things, an advertising agency! 
I'm working for Reid as his secretary at Luben's and having a wonderful 
time." She reached over and gave her father an affectionate peck on the 
cheek. 

"Well, whatever you're doing, I hope you keep doing it," Cecil said. "You 
look simply marvelous. You look like my little girl again." He hugged her. 

The phrase "little girl" reminded Reid of the sexual relationship between 
this man and his daughter and, for a moment, he visualized this 
distinguished man lapping at his daughter's vagina, stuffing his erection 
into her anus, ad infinitum. It was nearly impossible to imagine. It seemed 
incredible. Still, he knew it was true, and he found himself mentally 
calling this acknowledged superman of the advertising world the most 
hypocritical of hypocrites. 

"You know," Cecil said, "now that you're learning the ad game you might just 
wind up as president of the Seagram Agency one day. I'm serious. I'll be 
retiring soon, you know, and I can't imagine a more pleasant happening." 

Reid yearned to tell Cecil that very soon he, too, would become a full 
partner in the firm of Luben and Hartley, but he restrained himself. Once 
that was out, he would have to explain why and that would of necessity 
involve mentioning HIGH-TANG, which was taboo. "So what brings you over this 
way?" Reid asked. 

"Oh, I stopped by the office this morning to make sure things were running 
smoothly." He forced a smile. He would remain vague, Reid knew. Cecil 
Seagram was not one to divulge anything important where business was 
concerned. "Yes, there are a few big things coming up and I just wanted to 
be certain they're handled properly." 

Reid knew he shouldn't do it, but he couldn't resist. "Would you like a 
glass of wine?" he asked. "Everybody seems to be drinking wine these days." 

Seagram's reaction was immediate and unmistakable. Yes, the word that Milo 
Vineyards was planning something big was out, no question about it. 

"No, thank you," he said. "I realize it's becoming more popular all the 
time-and destined to become even more popular-but I've had my limit today." 

Reid grinned as their eyes met. Even Cecil Seagram couldn't resist revealing 
that his finger still remained on the pulse of the business. 

"Just what are you two talking about?" Mona asked. "What's all this wine 
talk?" 

"Nothing," her father said, smiling. "Perhaps Reid will tell you about it 
tonight when you're both at his apartment." He eyed them both, amused. "I 
must confess, Mona, that I still remain the watchful father. I've known for 
some time that you were working at Luben's with Reid. I've known everything. 
My main concern is that you're well and happy. I see that you are, so I have 
no objection to your leading your own life." 

"Daddy, you've been spying on me!" Mona protested, but Reid could tell that 
she was flattered. 

"So long as wine is marketed by the right agency there's no need for anyone 
to interfere in anybody's life," Cecil said. "Live and let live. That's what 
I always say." 

"I totally agree," Reid said, not missing the elderly man's direct threat 
regarding the Milo Vineyard account. "As long as the right agency handles 
the selling of wine there's no need for a lot of most unusual facts to be 
made public knowledge." 

Cecil Seagram understood exactly the counterthreat and was visibly 
disturbed. Apparently he had misjudged his daughter. He had not dreamed she 
would ever reveal their sexual relationship. 

"Please, you two," she said. "Would you please tell me why all this talk 
about wine? If you want wine, then order it!" 

"Mona," Cecil said to his daughter, "would you mind powdering your nose for 
a few minutes while I chat with Mrs. Hartley? It's important that we talk 
privately. Business. Please?" 

Mona scowled, then looked quizzically at Reid. Reid nodded and she got up 
and went toward the ladies' room. When he was certain that she was out of 
earshot, Seagram said: "Business is business," he said, "but fucking my 
eighteen-year-old daughter is a slightly different thing." He stared Reid 
directly in the eye. "Keep this up, Reid, and I'll ruin you. You'll never 
work in the industry again. I mean it." 

Reid grinned. Fuck you, he thought. "And what about you?" he said. "What 
about a man who plays around with his own daughter? How do you think the 
industry would feel about that?" 

Seagram's eyes went ablaze. Furiously, he started to raise his hand to make 
a point and upset Mona's water glass. He didn't bother to call the waiter or 
mop up the mess himself. Speechless, he stood up and stalked from the 
restaurant. 

Reid sat silently staring after Mona's father, his heart pounding inside his 
chest. "Rotten cocksucker!" he muttered to himself. He was going all out for 
the Milo wine account-more than ever. He wanted more than anything to beat 
Cecil Seagram at his own fucking game. He would win the account, show the 
prick who was best and continue to enjoy fucking Mona to his heart's 
content. Yeah, fuck the old bastard! 

Mona returned a minute later and Reid said, "Unfortunately, your daddy got a 
little upset about our living together and had to leave." 

Mona seemed sad. A look he had never seen on her face spread over her 
beautiful features-a look of ineffable sadness. "Reid," she said, "I hope 
you didn't hurt him. He-he means well. He-really can't help everything 
that's happened between us. You didn't say anything to hurt him, did you?" 

"No, not really," Reid said. "I'm afraid he just didn't appreciate the 
truth. Let's get out of here. Come on." 

"Yes," Mona said, her eyes ablaze just like her father's. "I can see the 
Gibbons toothpaste account is more important to you than I am." 

For just an instant, Reid panicked. It was essential that Mona be in the 
proper sexual mood for Richard Gibbons. Somehow he had to pacify her. 
"Sugar," he said, reaching out and stroking her arm, "I tried to reason with 
your father, but it just wasn't any use. Let's go back and get that Gibbons 
account. I'll call your father then and apologize. Promise. Okay?" 

With effort, Mona smiled. "All right," she said. "If-if you promise you'll 
call him." "I promise," Reid said. 



Mona was pantiless-just as before with the Wonder-Lift account. Once again, 
Reid went-through his pitch, turning the pages of the pedestal chart and 
staring at Mona's lovely knees, her inner thighs and her little furry pussy 
that was such a pleasure to view when she crossed and uncrossed her legs. 
Her titties, firm and jiggly, showed through her blouse and Reid felt 
confident that despite the lack of brilliancy, the conception of his 
campaign, that he would be able to win over Richard Gibbons with Mona's 
assistance. Sea; war! Yeah. That's what it was Make the prick come in his 
pants and buy the campaign... yeah.... 

"Do you think this is sexy enough?" Mona asked, demonstrating by uncrossing 
her legs and displaying her delicious little snatch. He could see the 
vertical line of her pink little puss and he said, "Baby, you give him a 
shot of your little cunt-just like that-and we'll have ourselves one 
toothpaste account for sure. Christ, he'll be down on his knees between your 
legs trying to clean his teeth on your little cunt brush." 

Mona giggled. "We have a little time, don't we? Would you care to-to lick my 
cunt just a little? Don't you think I should be primed just a little... just 
a little?" 

Reid went over and, without preliminaries, knelt down, parted her legs and 
ran his tongue up the length of her tasty pussy. Somehow, the thought that 
he was having "firsts"-lapping Mona's cunt before Richard Gibbons could dine 
there-turned him on. After a few good licks, though, he stopped, controlling 
himself and gazed into her eyes. "Very nice," he said. "Richard should enjoy 
it. I-I think I'd better stop now though. After all, I don't want to be a 
cunt hog, do I?" 

"Go ahead," she breathed, her eyes rolling lustfully, "I-I find it sort of 
nice, actually. Nobody-but nobody-sucks my cunt the way you do." She held 
his cheeks, pleading in a ladylike way for more. 

"I think we'd better save you for Richard," Reid said, forcing himself to go 
away. "It's an important account and we don't want you sore and lacking 
juice, right?" 

She sighed, crossing her legs again, hiding her little snatch from view. 
"Okay, I guess you're right," she said. "But tonight I want you to do it to 
me-all the way. This afternoon with Richard I don't mind being an actress, 
but tonight I want my box eaten properly. You've created an addict, you 
know... ummm...." 

Reid chuckled. Little did she know. "No, you're wrong there," he said. 
"You've made me an addict. I'm addicted to your cunt, sweet. In fact, 
pulling away from you and taking my tongue out of your little honey nest is 
bringing on severe withdrawal. You give me pussy pangs. Ouch!" 

Mona laughed brightly. "Well, bring on this Richard. Let's get him out of 
the way so we can go home and settle down to some real cunt-sucking and 
cock-sucking. Ummm... do I ever want that stiff pole of yours in my mouth." 

Reid clutched his genitals. "You shouldn't say things like that," he said. 
"What are you-some kind of sex sadist?" 

"Something like that," Mona said. "Yes. I just happen to dig your cock... 
cock, pussy... cock... cock, pussy... cock, cock, cock, cock... ummm...." 

Chapter Eight 

The Gibbons account turned out to be quite a simple matter actually. Richard 
Gibbons and his cohort, Sam Benton, (why did they always seem to arrive in 
twos for advertising presentations?) were most receptive to Reid's erotic 
approach in marketing their product. They were knowledgeable and up-to-date 
gentlemen; they understood the importance of sex in marketing an oral 
product. Therefore, when Reid showed them his sketches of a young cowboy 
raising a tube of Gibbons toothpaste slowly from his hip, removing the top 
and then shooting a steady stream of the tube's white contents directly into 
a girl's eager mouth as her eyes rolled lustfully, they instantly agreed 
that such a phallic representation of an ejaculating stream of "Delicious 
Gibbons" into a beautiful girl's waiting mouth would sell the product. 
Strangely, though, it was Sam Benton who, unlike the "yes man" of the 
Wonder-Lift Forbes-Corey team, raised the principal objection. 

"A masterpiece," Benton began. "There's no doubt in my mind that you are an 
advertising genius, Mr. Hartley. However, the TV spot you've suggested, will 
raise such hell I'm afraid that in the long run it will hurt us." 

Richard Gibbons nodded, seemingly agreeing. He sighed. "Yes, maybe he's 
right, Mr. Hartley," he agreed. "I-I just don't know. It will sell our 
product, most assuredly, but can we risk it?" 

Reid glanced at Mona. Once again, just as they had done with the Wonder-Lift 
account, Mona as pre-arranged removed a tube of Gibbons toothpaste from a 
brown paper sack and held it-gripped it like a cock actually-lovingly in her 
dainty little hand. 

"Gentlemen," Reid said. "What is my secretary holding in her hand?" 

"A tube of Gibbons toothpaste," both men chorused. 

"Precisely. But we don't want to sell Gibbons toothpaste, do we? Did Wrigley 
sell chewing gum or did he sell a smile? Do you believe you sell suntan 
lotion because people merely like darker skins? Hell, no. A suntan makes a 
woman more desirable-a man, too. And when you show them rubbing the stuff on 
each other's bare skin the stuff sells." 

"That's slightly different," Gibbons said. 

"How?" Reid counterattacked. 

"Well, rubbing someone's body is different from squirting a stream of white 
cream into someone's mouth. I mean-" 

"Don't you see that it's all part of the same thing?" Reid interrupted. "One 
is merely a prelude to the other. It's all part of the sexual act. I tell 
you that if Gibbons doesn't do it, your competition will! Christ, when a guy 
rubs lotion on his girl friend's back you don't think everybody watching 
knows what's going on? Sure, some people react on a subconscious level. But 
the majority of viewers know precisely what is happening. Still, nobody 
except a lunatic fringe, which constitutes a hopeless fraction of your 
market, objects to rubbing on suntan lotion. And that lunatic fringe merely 
calls added attention to your product. Believe me, gentlemen, I know what 
I'm talking about." 

Gibbons sat scratching his head. Reid knew that it was Gibbons who would 
make the final decision. Benton was a powerful influence, true, but it was 
Gibbons who would make the decision. "I don't know," he said, shaking his 
head. "I just don't know." 

Benton shook his head obstinately. 

"Mona," Reid said, "please illustrate precisely what we have in mind, would 
you?" 

"Yes, sir," she chirped, removed the cap from the tube. Slowly, ever so 
lovingly, she squeezed the contents of the tube into her open mouth. 
"UMMMM," she said. "Gibbons gives me things I yearn for... things I dream of 
but would never breathe a word to a soul about... Gibbons makes my mouth 
feel all tingly... it tastes so good I even want to swallow it... yummy... 
my boyfriends love me when I do this...." 

Reid saw that both men were swallowing at Mona's ultra-erotic demonstration. 

"Well, what do you think? Exciting, yes," Reid said. "Obscene? Never!" 

"Very impressive, but-" Benton began. 

Suddenly Reid knew that he had to be dramatic-dramatic in a way he had never 
been dramatic before. He elected to risk everything. Quickly, he rose to his 
feet, went over to where Mona sat on the couch, dropped his pants and 
quickly, with a minimum of manipulation, achieved a full erection. He stood 
somewhat sideways to that the men could observe clearly what was to follow. 

"Take hold of my cock, Mona," he commanded. "Take hold of my flesh tube of 
Gibbons toothpaste!" 

Mona complied. 

"Now repeat while staring at my organ what you just said regarding that 
tube!" 

Both men's mouths hung open now in total amazement at what they were 
witnessing as Mona spoke. When she had finished, Reid stuffed his cock back 
inside his pants, zipped up his fly and returned to the pedestal chart. 
While the shock was still upon them, he flipped to the next page of the 
pedestal chart. There, in full flesh color, was an enormous representation 
of a flesh-colored tube of Gibbons toothpaste. The vessel even bulged 
slightly at the bottom to simulate testicles somewhat and, at the top near 
the cap, was a kind of gathering that could be interpreted as foreskin! 

"Here, gentlemen, is your new package-a package which along with the 
campaign I've outlined will triple the sales of your product! I absolutely 
guarantee it! Women will buy Gibbons like crazy-many not even knowing 
why-and to men the facts won't even seem apparent! In fact, you'll even 
corner the goddamn fag market!" He paused now for dramatic effect. 
"Primarily, though, we're aiming at females." He spoke very slowly, wanting 
every word to sink in. "Remember, as we all know and as every market study 
has revealed, it is the female who does the shopping. It is the female who 
actually selects the product from this nation's shelves! You have before you 
the most dynamic selling concept-combined with packaging-in this nation's 
history!" 

Benton sprang to his feet enraged. "You mean to stand there and tell us 
you're going to put men's cocks and balls in grocery stores and drug stores 
throughout the country. I don't know about you, Richard," he said, turning 
to his partner, "but I've seen quite enough. This is the work of a madman! 
Preposterous! Absolutely unthinkable!" 

Reid saw that Richard Gibbons was paying no attention to his cohort. 
Instead, he was staring at Mona's bare cunt beneath her miniskirt. Reid 
decided that the time was right to leave Richard alone with Mona. He grabbed 
Benton forcibly by the arm and started for the door. 

"Naturally," Reid said, "the newspaper and magazine ads will take a slightly 
different approach, even though the packaging must remain the same. Mr. 
Gibbons, if you don't mind, I'd like to dispel Mr. Benton's fears by showing 
him other sketches dreamed up by our art department. With your approval we 
should be back in ten or fifteen minutes." 

Richard Gibbons was panting and still staring at Mona's totally visibly 
snatch that lay at the end of the smooth and satiny texture of her inner 
thighs. "Uh-yes," he muttered. "That might be a good idea. You two-uh-go 
ahead. Good idea... good idea... better look everything over completely 
before making a final decision, Sam," he said to his partner. 

With that, Reid whisked the protesting Sam Benton from the room and down the 
corridor to the art department where, as usual, he turned a prospect 
presenting obstacles over to the art director, Jules. Then Reid went to the 
peep hole and peered into his office to see how Mona was progressing with 
Richard Gibbons. 

It took only a moment to see that, once again, Mona was a master at the sex 
game. When it came to seduction and extracting promises, she was a virtuoso. 
Reid watched and listened. 



Richard Gibbons seemed somewhat embarrassed now that he and Mona were alone. 
He stared down at the floor, as though groping for words. Finally, glancing 
up at Mona's bare honey nest and her smiling, anticipatory face, he said, "I 
must say that was quite a-a dramatic presentation you and Mr. Hartley put 
on." 

Mona spread her legs wider still and blinked her long lashes invitingly. 
"Yes," she agreed. "It's because we both believe in the campaign you just 
saw outlined. It just seems a pity that "there seemed to be some objections 
on your part and so we-we really outdid ourselves to convince you." 

Gibbons chuckled. "Yes, I'd say his taking his his penis out and your 
grabbing it that way showed your sincerity." 

Mona grinned. The poor man was doing his best to keep from being obvious at 
staring at her cunt hole. "We didn't do everything though, did we?" she 
asked. "I mean, I did squirt the toothpaste in my mouth but he didn't-didn't 
squirt his stuff in my mouth. That would have been dramatic." Mona could see 
Gibbons' stiff prick bursting against his fly. "Frankly, the demonstration 
excited me," she said. "My boss never took his thing out like that and held 
it near my mouth. Did it excite you, too?" 

"Y-yes," Gibbons stammered. 

"Listen, if I locked the door maybe you'd let me do that to you-just to 
prove that women really like to do that kind of thing. Research. You know? 
To prove that my boss's theory about the Gibbons package will make women buy 
your product, okay? Strictly research, of course." She rose and went over 
and locked the door just as she had done with Forbes on the Wonder-Lift 
account. When she returned, she said, "Why don't you take your prick out? 
It'll just take a minute. Please? I feel all squishly in my pussy and even 
my mouth feels wet. Please?" 

Gibbons began trembling all over. He ran his hand over his face, then 
unzipped his fly and let his cock flop free. 

"Yummy-yum-yum," Mona said. "Just like that new tube of Gibbons toothpaste 
Mr. Hartley was talking about. Oh, it makes me want to just chew and nibble 
and suck and lap and make love to it all day." Sitting there on the couch, 
Mona puckered up her lips and asked Gibbons to come over and stand in front 
of her so she could lick his big flesh tube. 

Staggering, his dripping prick standing out in front of him, Gibbons made 
his way to Mona's waiting mouth and aimed it at her wet lips. But Mona 
appeared dissatisfied with this. She slid his pants and shorts all the way 
down to his knees, then to his ankles. She gazed at the meaty monster for a 
moment, then began dabbing with her tongue at the tiny slit in its bulging, 
purplish head as she massaged his hairy balls with one hand and ran her 
other hand over his buttocks tantalizingly at the same time, dipping her 
fingertips into the cleft of his ass from time to time, too. Finally, she 
inserted her finger directly into his rectum and took the entire head of the 
gushing cock into her mouth. Hollow-cheeked, she began nursing and emitting 
little whimpering sounds. Occasionally, she would cease her laving efforts 
and lean back to study the jutting ramrod that seemed ready to burst through 
the ceiling. Each time she did so, she referred affectionately, lustfully 
and with glazed eyes, to his member as a flesh tube. 

Peering through the peep hole, Reid once again felt the jealousy and envy he 
had experienced when watching Mona work on Forbes of Wonder-Lift, but he 
realized exactly what she was doing. Her use of the phrase "flesh tube" 
repeatedly proved that she was working to sell Gibbons on the new tube 
design and the effect it would have on sales. 

"Ummmm... ohhhh," she kept saying. "And your nice flesh tube even has these 
nice things these nice balls just like on that tooth paste tube for a girl 
to lick... ummmm... and up near the end where the stuff comes out there's 
this nice little ruffle of skin to nibble on... just like on that toothpaste 
tube. I-I wish I hadn't seen that picture of the tube... it... it makes me 
think of-of a man's beautiful prick and makes me want to lick it and make 
love to it all day. I-I really shouldn't be doing this, should I? Mr. 
Gibbons, if my boss knew... oh, I shouldn't be doing this... I shouldn't be 
doing this terrible, terrible thing to such an important man as you... I 
shouldn't...." 

And then, abruptly, she broke away-ceased her tonguing and left poor Richard 
Gibbons with his prick out in the cold. There are certain times when a man 
looks as though he might die. One of those time is when he actually is about 
to die. Another of those times is when his prick-for one reason or 
another-must be extracted from a female cunt or mouth. 

Richard Gibbons now looked as though he were about to die. Vainly he bucked 
involuntarily, clutching for Mona's mouth, trying for mouth heat once again. 

Skillfully, Mona avoided his probing, searching, rigid hunk of meat. 
Gibbons' shaft had no place to go, no place to imbed itself, and it was 
killing him. 

"Put it back in," he pleaded. "Please... why? Why are you stopping? You 
can't stop now... not now... not now... don't stop...." 

"But I feel so guilty and disloyal to my boss. I mean, the toothpaste tube 
he thought up-the tube that got me all excited so I'd do this to you-isn't 
good enough for your company. That means he's failed and I-I just can't do 
this to you when he's failed. Mr. Gibbons, I cannot in good conscience 
continue to suck your cock and have your love cream squirt in my mouth when 
my boss has failed." 

Gibbons' eyes bulged insanely. "He-he hasn't failed. We'll market the goddam 
package. We'll do everything your boss says. Anything! Anything! Everything! 
Only don't stop! Don't stop! Jesus, if you stop I'll die!" 

Mona still tickled his balls, spurring him on. "Oh, you can't imagine how 
wonderful that makes me feel," she said. "You're not lying to me? You'll 
keep your promise and I'll never tell anybody about this? It will be our 
secret?" 

"Yes! Yes! Come on and suck. Suck me off. Hurry!" 

"What about your partner? What if Mr. Benton says, no?" Mona asked, still 
fondling his balls and playing with his ass, running her fingers ticklingly 
up and down its fuzzy cleft. "Screw Benton!" he yelled. "Now finish me 
please..." Desperately, Gibbons clutched her hair and now, her mission 
accomplished, Mona resumed her masterful sucking of the waiting, bone-hard 
gristle that jutted out be-searching, rigid hunk of meat. Gibbons' shaft for 
a few seconds and then, once again, stopped. "I can't tell you how happy I 
am that you're approving Mr. Hartley's campaign," she mewed. 

"Yes, yes... it's approved!" Gibbons screamed and impatiently jammed his 
cock into Mona's mouth once again. 

Peering from behind the wall, Reid doubled up with laughter. Beyond a doubt, 
Mona was the most exquisite saleswoman he had ever seen. No, he thought, 
more like a torturess-a sadistic and dedicated torturess worthy of the 
Spanish Inquisition! 

Now Reid's laughter came to a halt though as Mona really went to work. Reid 
watched in awe as her hands kneaded Gibbons' scrotum, fondled his hairy 
bulbs while her mouth performed miracles of delight up and down the length 
of his rigid shaft. She would suck hard briefly, then remove the meat plug 
from her hot lips and flutter her tongue from its base to its dribbling tip. 
Often her lapping, fluttering tongue went down as far as his testicles and, 
on several occasions, she lifted his entire flesh sack and kissed below it, 
taking each almond-shaped testicle gently into her mouth and drawing on it. 
Meanwhile, her finger continued to play with his rectum. 

Gibbons' groaning was becoming an insane growl of pleasure. He gripped 
beneath her chin, urging her on, then behind her head. It was doubtful he 
had ever experienced anything like Mona's ministrations before. He tugged at 
her hair, ran his fingers through her hair and alternately gazed down at her 
mouth massaging his genital area and up at the ceiling. His eyes rolled to 
the back of his head when he looked up as though giving thanks to some sex 
deity for providing him with a sexual experience he had never dreamed could 
occur. 

"Oh, baby," he repeated over and over again. "Oh, yes... suck... suck... 
suck. Yes, that's it... never stop sucking...." 

Mona didn't cease her labors now. She seemed intent on making the man come. 
With each remark Gibbons made, she answered him in little moaning answers, 
as though to assure him she was enjoying every lap of his dick as much as 
he, as though she took as much delight in delivering pleasure as Gibbons did 
in receiving it. The way she gripped his shaft and the way she nursed, as 
though pleading for the cock that often rammed all the way to the back of 
her throat to drench and drain and spew, was beginning to bother Reid. 
Actress, hell! he thought. Here was a genuine born cocksucker who loved 
every thrust of the male penis at her throat! 

What bothered Reid most was the way Mona seemed to be milking Gibbons' rod. 
Did she have to start at the base and tug forward as if she were milking a 
cow or something and had to have every drop of his semen? No, dammit! he 
decided. That was beyond even skilled courtesanship! No matter what the 
stakes, she didn't have to go that far! Still, he rationalized, perhaps she 
knew something he didn't. Perhaps by totally losing herself in the role she 
became that much more convincing, and this dedication-this apparent love of 
what she now did-could then be transmitted to the man whose prick she sucked 
and thereby hasten his orgasm. Perhaps she was an actress-the very best 
kind. Perhaps she was the kind of actress who genuinely lost herself in the 
role she was playing and returned to reality only after the curtain was 
down, or, in this case, only after the wad was shot. He hoped so... 

Well, at last it was happening, and Reid was glad. Gibbons' ass was gyrating 
and his entire body was spasming involuntarily. Endve been so successful. We 
become competent at an early age." 

Reid smiled, relieved. "Well, I certainly wouldn't question your family's 
success. Nobody could." 

Tony Milo smiled a smile too mature for his age. One thing was certain. He 
could not be flattered. Another thing that bothered Reid was the fact that 
he seemed to be ignoring, for the most part, Mona's bare pussy! He did 
glance at it once, but merely took a deep breath and resumed his 
conversation with Reid. 

"Shall we begin, Mr. Hartley?" he asked now, glancing at his watch as though 
his time were limited. 

"Very well, Mr. Milo," Reid said, going to the pedestal chart. He turned the 
sheet and revealed the words HIGH-TANG. He said the name then, watching 
Milo's reaction closely. The lad's eyebrows raised and Reid began. 

Reid used every gesture, intonation of voice, every winning tactic he knew 
as he made his presentation. From his bag of tricks he withdrew every 
psychological device; from his arsenal of experience he fired every blast. 
He pressed until pressing seemed unwise. He backed off until timidity seemed 
to be approaching. In short, he outlined in detail (with variations) the 
same approach he and Arthur Luben had discussed that first day he had 
learned of Milo Vineyards plan to market a popular wine drink. Tony Milo 
nodded, obviously impressed, but the final signal was not there. Finally, 
Reid elected to give Mona a shot at him before he could say no or maybe or 
anything short of yes. He excused himself under the pretense of wanting to 
check with the art department on a High-Tang selling brochure he had devised 
and wished to show his prospective client. He left the room and immediately 
went to the peep hole. 

"Frankly, I think High-Tang is a perfect name for your product, Mr. Milo," 
Mona was saying. Her legs were just the right amount apart. Reid could see 
her snatch from his viewpoint. Why didn't the hot-blooded young Italian seem 
to be taking the bait? 

Milo studied her dispassionately, drumming his fingers on the arm of the 
chair. "Yes," he agreed. "I think it's excellent. In fact, I think the 
entire campaign shows brilliant imagination and planning. It's certainly the 
best I've seen so far. However, I cannot make a final decision until I visit 
one more agency." He paused, obviously looking up Mona's dress. "I'm really 
surprised that in a preliminary presentation of this sort that Mr. Hartley 
has gone to so much trouble." 

"That's the sort of man he is," Mona said. "He's a genius, and he believes 
in High-Tang. And when he believes in something he thinks it through 
thoroughly. It's no trouble, as you say." 

"I see," Tony Milo said. "May I ask you something, Miss?" 

"Seagram," Mona said. "Mona Seagram. Certainly." 

"Did you dress hastily this morning? You seem to have forgotten to wear any 
panties." 

Mona feigned shock and closed her legs. Then she held her cheeks in 
embarrassment. "Oh, I feel so-so awful. I'm terribly sorry, Mr. Milo. I-I 
had no idea...." 

Tony laughed. "Oh, that's quite all right. It's really quite stimulating. I 
just thought you might like to know about it. That's all." 

Mona stood up then and crossed over and sat down on the arm of the chair 
where Tony Milo sat. "Well, I guess I don't have to be a prude about it, do 
I? Still, I think it best if I stay out of view. I'll-I'll just sit here 
until Mr. Hartley returns." She ran her hand innocently through one of 
Tony's long black sideburns. "Tsk-tsk," she said, "I think you're working 
too hard. You've already gotten a few gray hairs." 

Tony Milo gazed into Mona's big beautiful eyes and for the first time Reid 
knew that the boy was very much aware of Mona's presence. Yes, there was the 
old cock beginning to bulge inside the boy's tight-fitting pants. Mona was 
amazing! 

"You're very beautiful," he said, his voice trembling. 

"And you're very handsome," Mona said. 

Tony leaned up and kissed Mona then-long and full on the lips while his cock 
stretched to its full length. Mona immediately ran her fingers down his 
chest and finally touched his erection. A moment later, she had his dark, 
Italian prick out and was jacking it slowly. "I-I shouldn't be doing this 
here. I-I wish you hadn't kissed me, Tony. If-if my boss knew what we were 
doing-" Suddenly she jumped up and ran over and locked the door. 

When she returned and started to kneel before his enormous erection he 
lifted her and said, "No, Miss Seagram... I'm excited, naturally, but 
sucking my cock isn't necessary to win the Milo account... I find it... 
objectionable." 

Mona sat on the arm of the chair again. "I wasn't doing it for that reason," 
Mona said. "I-I genuinely find you sexually attractive. I guess I just went 
crazy for a minute. Forgive me? Please?" 

Despite himself, Tony Milo was breathing hard and his cock still stuck up 
straight and stiff as a knackwurst. Slyly, Mona reached down again and began 
jacking the huge meat hunk slowly up and down, up and down. This time, now 
that Mona was making no effort to suck on his organ, the lad permitted her 
to continue. 

"I can't help it," Mona gasped. "Just let me play with it, please? I don't 
know what's come over me, but I-I just have to hold your big beautiful hunk 
of prick in my hand. I'm sorry I started to do what I did before... I really 
think you're the most attractive man I've ever met... honest... I don't give 
a damn about High-Tang... I just care about you." 

Watching Mona jacking off Tony Milo's prick, Reid suddenly realized that 
Mona was not acting. Not this time. It had been apparent in her voice since 
her approach, and now her saying that she didn't give "damn" about High-Tang 
clinches his hunch. Mona actually felt drawn like a magnet to this boy! He 
felt anger and jealousy surging through him. Still, he couldn't rush in and 
break them up. No, goddam it... he had to stand here and watch! 

Their mouths were locked tightly together in a passionate soul kiss as Mona 
continued to jack off Tony Milo. Finally, the big vein on the underside of 
Tony's cock swelled and their mouths and tongues became a blur as the lad's 
impending orgasm neared. Mona broke away briefly. 

"Tony, I'm sorry-I told you that-but I can't help it-I just can't help 
wanting you to spurt your beautiful cream. I-I want to watch it squirt out 
of your beautiful thick cock. Tell me when it's ready, will you? Please?" 

Tony simply said, "Now!" 

Enraptured, Mona broke away from their soul kiss again and stared at the 
head of Tony's prick as it began its whalelike spout. Great clots of 
sperm-buttermilk in texture-leaped high into the air and for an instant Reid 
thought the lad seemed determined to hose down the entire office. He groaned 
and still the clumps of jism came whizzing through his jerking shaft. Much 
of Tony's spend dribbled over Mona's pumping hand but the bulk of the boy's 
load hurtled endlessly into space. Finally, his balls emptied, the spewing 
ceased and he sat slumped with jism all over the front of his suit. Mona 
quickly ran to the bathroom and returned with a damp cloth and began dabbing 
at the stains. Then, satisfied that she had removed most of the evidence 
from the chair and carpet and his clothing, she snuggled close to him, 
whispering words in his ear that Reid could not hear. 

In a minute or two, Tony said, "Did you really mean what you said about not 
giving a damn about the High-Tang business?" 

Mona nodded. "Yes, Tony. I only care about you. And it's not because of 
money, either. My father has millions. There's just some peculiar chemistry 
between us. Do you sense it?" 

"Yes," Tony said. "And I'm glad you feel about High-Tang the way you do. I 
don't approve of using sex as a weapon in business matters. I'm not saying 
you did, but the fact is I wouldn't let Luben's handle the Milo Vineyard 
account now even if I wanted to." Tony seemed to be studying Mona, trying to 
be absolutely sure. Then, apparently satisfied, he stood up and tucked his 
lazy hard-on back inside his pants. "We're going to lunch," he said. "Tell 
your boss, all right?" 

Mona unlocked the door. "All right, Tony," Mona said. "Whatever you say, 
love." 

Looking through the peep hole, Reid could not believe his ears. This was the 
same girl who had professed love for him, the same girl he'd made love to 
this morning! There was no question in his mind that she was sincere in what 
she was saying to Tony Milo. There went the partnership with Luben's; there 
went everything! 

He sighed heavily, closed the peep hole, and returned to the office. It was 
difficult trying to pretend he still had a chance of winning the Milo 
account. "Sorry about that brochure," he said. "They haven't quite finished 
it." 

"That's quite all right, Mr. Hartley," Tony Milo said. "I've seen enough. 
I'll let you know my decision within a week. Now, if you don't mind, I'm 
taking your secretary to lunch." 

"Be my guest," Reid said. 

Tony and Mona went out the door, holding hands and staring into each other's 
eyes like teenage lovers. Well, after all Mona was a teenager, Reid thought 
as he sat slumped behind his desk. He decided to spare Arthur Luben the bad 
news for the moment. Better to break the disappointment to him easy. Also, 
it would give him time to look for another job. He pressed the inter-com 
button and a moment later told Arthur: "Milo just left. Looks good, but he 
won't give us a decision until next week... yes... yes... I said it looks 
good, didn't I?" 



Mona Seagram never returned from lunch. For the next two days, Reid lied and 
said that she was home with the flu. It was on the third day of her absence 
that he received the telephone call. It was 10:15 in the morning and the 
office was like a graveyard with Mona gone. Too, the general feeling 
throughout the agency was that Reid Hartley had lost the account. "Hello?" 
Reid answered in a monotone as he picked up the phone. Then he sat up 
straight. "Mona! Where in hell are you?" 

"Acapulco," she said. "Tony and I are married. We're on our honeymoon. Isn't 
that wonderful? Oh, Reid, I'm sorry the way everything happened, but I'm so 
happy. Honest." 

"I'm glad for you," Reid said, tears in his eyes. "Congratulations." 

"Oh, and don't worry about High-Tang. It's Luben's-Luben and Hartley's, I 
mean. That was the least I could do. Don't worry about it. Tony has 
promised, okay?" 

Now Reid was laughing through his tears. "Okay," he said. "I-I'm happy for 
you. I guess you should have a guy your own age. You seemed to have 
something special together, all right. My very best. You know there'll 
always be a special place in my heart for you." 

"And there'll always be a special place in mine, too, for you. Thanks for 
everything, Reid. Get another secretary quick and keep up that good batting 
average. Bye-bye." 

"Bye-bye," Reid said. 

First Reid buzzed Arthur Luben and informed him of the good news. Then he 
sat pondering Mona's advice. She was absolutely correct. He would have to 
get another secretary who would hang around the office of Luben and Hartley 
without panties. He hadn't thought of Janet since Malibu. Yes, she would be 
perfect, he decided, and he knew she would do anything he asked. Also, as 
Mona had said, "There are three places," Janet had three places, too-three 
very nice places as he recalled. 

Reid Hartley of Luben and Hartley withdrew his personal address book from 
his inside coat pocket and turned to the name of Janet Winthrop. 


End
