The Cock-Tail Maid
by Clarence Symonette
(LLP-162)


FOREWORD 

The lonely newly wedded bride has been the topic of several of the Liverpool 
Library's recent publications and the editorial staff was at first hesitant 
to accept the present novel. 

But, after they had read and studied the first several chapters, there was 
no longer any doubt that the book should be accepted for publication, en 
toto, even though the plot line has seen a thousand presses. There is a 
certain warmth and sympathy that pervades Mr. 

Symonette's writings that have not quite been reached by others of this 
publishing era. He approaches the story as though he were going to say 
something that has been said many times before, but... it takes the reader 
only a matter of minutes to conclude that this is not going to be the same. 

Author Symonette masterfully takes the plot of a young newly married girl, 
who like many others of this generation, loses her husband almost 
immediately to the service. She is, of course, lost. She has always had 
someone to depend on and now there is, in a matter of moments, no one. Being 
beautiful and young, contrary to what most would think, is also a part of 
her downfall. For every person who would help her, there are a thousand who 
would take lecherous advantage of her youth and beauty and drag her down to 
the depths of filth and degradation with them and their own weaknesses. How 
the young girl learns to cope with this may not be the ideal solution, and 
to some may seem capitulation to those who have used her so ruthlessly, but 
it is an adjustment. If one does not adjust, then one either dies or goes 
insane. It is the old principle of "doing anything, is better than doing 
nothing, even if it's wrong." 

But she does survive, and we the publishers feel that considering the 
circumstances under which she is laboring, this in itself, is a miracle. We 
hope you the reader can glean the same understanding and hope from it that 
we have. 

-The Publishers 

 CHAPTER ONE 

"Ordering... three tall water - make one Scotch, two martys - one up and one 
over, and two Marys - make one a virgin." The sing-song litany had barely 
evaporated in the smoke spiraled air before it was picked up along the bar. 

"I'll take that last one, Tom, just be sure you put a cherry in it!" 

The ribald remark brought the required guffaw of applause from the 
bartender, though by one o'clock in the morning it had a weary tinge. 
Geesus, he groaned inwardly as his deft fingers mechanically mixed the 
drinks, can't these jerks ever come up with something new? 

The cocktail girl at the service section forced a more spontaneous note to 
her echoing giggle for the would-be comedian was a large tipper. 

"I'm sure you don't have any trouble getting all you want, Mr. Jenkins," she 
breathed in his ear as she brushed by him with the loaded tray and allowed 
one free-swinging breasts to graze his shoulder. That should be good for 
another buck or two next time I get the old bastard at my station, she 
thought. 

The disdained Mr. Jenkins, president of a giant automotive plant near by, 
could have bought and sold all of Jack's Cabin Inn including the hired help. 
But perched on a high stool with his elbows on the mahogany bar, 
flush-faced, slack-mouthed and slightly glazed of eye, he was just another 
dreary Saturday night bore to the brassy waitress. 

His prototype could be spotted scattered around the room in the dense, table 
hopping mass of celebrants. They were part of the thank-God-it's-Saturday 
crowd mixed in with visiting tourists and their hosts, the lesser 
celebrities of sports and screen, and the fashionable crowd who just knew it 
was the "in" place to be. 

The Friday nighters - office managers, plant superintendents, super salesmen 
- had hurried home to split-level suburbia for a week-end of golf, garden 
chores, little league and patio barbecues. The bigger brass caught in the 
city on a Saturday to rehash labor problems, Washington red-tape or tax 
embroilments, gravitated to Jack's to unwind. 

Heidi, the cocktail girl, treated the Mr. Jenkinses with due respect and 
deference at business-oriented luncheons during the week on an unspoken 
basis of mutual understanding. On Saturday nights though, a hidden barrier 
seemed to lift automatically. 

She wiggled her way through the closely packed tables, one hand expertly 
balancing the tray above her shoulder, deposited the drinks and rather 
stealthily slipped into the seclusion of a velvet draped service station. 

"My God," she groaned, slamming down the tray of picked-up empties with a 
rattle of glass. "In about five more minutes of this my goddamn legs are 
going to drop right off!" 

"Rough night all right, babe," One of the food waiters was propped up on the 
counter catching a quick cigarette. "But in another hour you'll be hustling 
your ass around the dance floor in the back room like you just got outta 
bed." 

"Yeah? Alone or with somebody?" She thrust her hand between his legs and the 
genital swell at the crotch of his snugly fitting trousers gave a start at 
the abrupt pressure of her kneading fingers. 

"Not alone that's a sure thing, and cut that out, I can't go back on the 
floor with a hard on." 

He slid from his perch, dislodging her hand and giving her a fond pat on the 
bottom as he started to part the heavy curtain. 

"Say," turning back, "how about the new chick, Miss High and Mighty? Bring 
her along. 

The guys think it's about time she loosened up." 

"I'll get Margie to ask her," Betty replied as she followed him out between 
the scarlet folds. 

"And I'll take care of you later!" 

The new chick was Janet White who had started working cocktails with Betty 
two weeks before. About all her fellow employees had learned about her was 
that she was married and her husband was with the army in Viet Nam. An 
exceptionally attractive red-head she had quite naturally been the subject 
of much discussion and ribald speculation among the waiters who handled all 
of the food service at the Inn. 

There is a coterie among restaurant and bar personnel with far stronger ties 
than any trade union. Bartenders, waiters and waitresses from a clan that 
approaches a national institution. "Say, I tossed drinks with old Ben at the 
fair in New York!" 

"Yeh, I worked a season with Sally at Palm Springs." 

"Weren't you at the Lodge with me in Tahoe couple of winters ago?" Or in 
Frisco or Tucson or Timbuktu, for the group on a whole is a restless one 
with an inherent gypsy strain. The younger members are looking for greener 
monetary pastures or new and exciting people and places; the old hands for a 
new set of four walls, different tables or bars to brush away the crumbs or 
wipe away the glass rings, or different appetites to appease or thirsts to 
quench. But theirs is a spurious coin, the reverse and obverse always the 
same, but with hope eternal they continue to wander, be it only two miles or 
two thousand. Yet whether near or far these nomads are closely knit within 
their profession and in a class of their own. For in any good dinner house 
or cocktail lounge as servants of the demanding public they needed a 
diplomatic tact and discretion. 

It was a shame this was seldom reflected in their own lives. 

Within the master clan there are cells within cells depending primarily on 
the type of establishment, its geographical area and the economic and social 
status of its clientele. 

There are groups of employees devoted to bowling, to square dancing, to 
skiing, to surfing, to playing the ponies, even to such ordinary pursuits as 
the best way to raise a family. Some cells divide into inner cliques of 
their own. 

Jack's Cabin Inn, by simply being what and where it was, created the caste 
and tempo of the members of that wandering tribe who gravitated into its hub 
of urbane activity. In the center of its half-acre of parking (a 
considerable fortune in land lay in that symmetrically white-lined 
automobile battlefield of dispassionate concrete) the long, low complex of 
hand-hewn redwood logs sprawled with deliberate deception of unplanned 
angularity. On a dark night the mullioned windows of the pseudo lumberman's 
camp seemed to glow with rosy welcome to the weary traveler of a century 
past, as red flannel-shirted attendants briskly took command of the 
luxurious, many horsepowered mechanical monsters that tooled breathlessly up 
to the huge oaken doors. 

Seen from an aerial view in the sunny clime of Southern California the 
rambling log structure was even more incongruous. Its chaste white roof of 
sparkling ersatz snow had the icy glitter of a misplaced alpine drift as it 
nestled among the towering sturdy cubes of industrial giants. 

An expensive bauble in the midst of money it drew money. Thus, also, as it 
drew a sophisticated fast-living, hard-drinking section of modern society, 
its employees were a relative counterpart of that entity. A group such as 
this is not easy to enter. When a cocktail opening occurs in a house where 
the tips average thirty to forty dollars a shift the inner clan circulates 
the word and gathers in its own species. 

Young Janet White landed the job by a stroke of plain dumb luck, or so she 
considered it at the time. She had applied for work as a file clerk in a 
plant located across the street from Jack's Cabin Inn, and for the fifth 
time that day had been turned down because of lack of experience. Tired and 
discouraged, almost in tears, she left the building just as the outside 
lights of the Inn flashed on in the early dusk. With a defiant toss of her 
auburn mane she thought, to hell with all of them, and marched to the doors 
of the cocktail lounge in an outward show of cool bravado. 

Her resolution wavered when once inside as her eyes adjusted to the soft 
illumination and she lingered hesitantly in the hush of the early cocktail 
hour. She'd never entered a bar unescorted before in her life and was on the 
verge of turning back to the street when a surprised exclamation of welcome 
bore down on her. 

"Why Jan White, how nice to see you again! Are you alone this afternoon?" 

"Why yes, I am." Janet quickly tried to place the owner of the clear 
melodious voice. She was a tall, strikingly voluptuous woman. A clinging 
black knit outlined full breasts aimed like twin missiles and caressed the 
round swell of hip. Masses of honey blonde hair were pulled high in a 
cascade of calculated disarray to display the good bone structure of her 
fashion-model face, and the almost incredible blue of her large clear eyes 
swept by a long fringe of false lashes. In the flattering glow of 
ruby-glassed chandeliers, she looked at least ten years younger than the 
thirty-five which she was reluctant to admit. Six feel tall, everything 
about her was big but beautifully proportioned. From the tips of her 
tapered, perfectly manicured fingers to the toes of her long, expensively 
shod feet, Marge Griffin was truly a Valkyrie of a woman. 

"How have you been Marge?" That's who this giantess was, Marge... Janet 
tried to conjure up a last name, not quite sure if she'd even caught it when 
they first met. They had been introduced at a party given by Scott's boss, 
and Jan recalled running into her on two other occasions where much of the 
same crowd had gathered. Marge had been with the same man each time, a 
chubby middle-aged balding fellow who had barely reached to her shoulder. 
Taking it for granted they were husband and wife, Jan had wondered how the 
statuesque blonde had ever come to marry such a rather pompous little 
balloon. She'd been shocked to learn that the woman he flaunted and fawned 
over so publicly was not his wife but his mistress. 

As Jan sorted out her thoughts Marge had linked an arm in hers and was 
drawing her to the seclusion of a corner booth, chatting away like an old 
friend. 

"I really don't have to be on the floor for another half hour, so let's hide 
away over here and I'll buy you a drink." She gave the girl a close look. 
"You look like you could use one. 

Tired, hon?" 

"Yes, I guess I am, and I certainly could," Jan murmured as she allowed 
herself to be led like a docile child across the big room. 

The two of them drew admiring male glances for they made an unusual pair. 
Though Jan felt like an ungainly colt in comparison with Marge's generous 
endowments the two were not dissimilar. Only two inches shorter and about 
thirty pounds lighter, Jan was a fine drawn duplicate of the older woman in 
many ways and a beauty in her own right. 

The young breasts were a little higher, a touch more firm, with no need of 
artificial shaping or holding. The small waist, flat stomach and gentle 
curve of rounded hip needed no elastic constriction, and the enticing 
derriere had an irrepressible wiggle of its own as she walked with a free 
and easy stride. The sparkling burgundy of her heavy, shoulder length 
tresses had no help from a bottle. In her high cheeked, fine boned face, 
alight with eyes sometimes gray, sometimes violet, only the almost too 
generous, sensual mouth kept it from true patrician perfection. She had the 
natural redheads fair, translucent complexion with a faint dusting of 
freckles across the bridge of her nose and cheekbones. 

Jan made a strong effort to pull herself out of the blue funk she was in to 
at least be pleasant as they sipped their highballs and chatted idly. Though 
she couldn't suppress a twinge of disapproval toward Marge's way of life it 
was impossible not to like such an outgoing personality. 

"You mentioned having to go to work, didn't you Marge?" she ventured. "Is it 
near here?" 

"Near here? It is here! I thought you probably knew. I'm night cashier and 
hostess in this plush-lined sewer." She rightly interpreted Jan's 
questioning, startled expression, and thought, God how can anyone be that 
young, that transparently naive? 

"And yes, I'm still going with Harry, living with him, too. Or perhaps I 
should say he's sleeping with me when he can get away from that harridan of 
a wife he has!" Her booming laugh exploded at the effect this frank tid-bit 
had on Jan. "Oh, Jan, don't feel embarrassed for me, everybody knows about 
us and I don't mind. Believe it or not I'm kinda crazy about the little 
butterball... and he's not so little all over. Not when he can take care of 
me!" 

Again her laugh rang out as Jan's face crimsoned. 

The flushed girl, although embarrassed at Marge's revelation was even more 
taken back that such coarse words could gush so freely from the gentle lips 
of this goddess-like form. 

"I'm sorry Marge... I didn't mean. Really it isn't any of my business," Jan 
tried to apologize but she wasn't sure for what. She felt an unexpected stab 
of pity for Marge as she continued to explain. 

"That's okay child, I can't blame you for wondering why I'm working when 
Harry is loaded. 

He gives me anything I want." Her eyes went with pride to the huge Marquise 
diamond shooting icy sparks from her ring finger, but on the right, not on 
the left hand. 

Oh sure, Jan thought. Everything but marriage. 

"But I don't see him too often at night, mostly during the day. Not so much 
because of his wife," she hastened to add, "but on account of the kids. 
Anyway, I'd go nuts sitting home alone nights so I put my time in here to 
keep busy." She finished as though this were the most logical solution in 
the world to a perfectly reasonable situation. For her perhaps it was. 

Janet caught herself from saying 'sorry' again and thought I've enough 
problems of my own without worrying about someone who doesn't seem to need 
or want any pity. She was surprised to find a fresh drink in front of her as 
Marge continued the one-sided conversation. 

"That's enough about my love life. How's that nice husband of yours doing in 
the new job?" 

"Scott's got a different new job right now." . She tried to keep her voice 
light, but a sharp stab of longing knifed through her heart. "He's in the 
army now, in Viet Nam... left almost three weeks ago." 

"Oh, honey, I'm so sorry." She patted Jan's hand. "Just when he was getting 
started with such a big outfit. Harry says Ring Engineering is one of the 
best. And didn't you tell me at the Ring's party that you'd just bought a 
new house and furniture and all? What are you planning on doing while 
Scott's gone?" 

"Well, I've been looking for a job... and... and... " Without warning Jan's 
eyes misted to a deep purple and a low sob welled up in her throat and 
choked off her words. "Oh, Marge, it's been so awful!" She managed in a 
final burst and buried her face in her hands as she started to cry with a 
quiet desperation. 

Marge slid around the smooth leather to the weeping girl's side. She sat 
calmly smoking a cigarette until the sobs came abruptly to a shuddering halt 
and Jan lifted the tear-stained face with a shamed look. 

"Come on kid, tell me about it if it will help any." 

Janet had always thought of herself as a person with cool control over her 
emotions. 

Ordinarily this was true but her protected life had recently taken a most 
unordinary turn. 

She was slightly dizzy from the two stiff drinks downed in rapid succession 
and felt so completely alone that she forgot the woman beside her was a 
comparative stranger, one she didn't approve of even, and found herself 
pouring out the story of her troubles in Marge's sympathetic ear. 

Her stream of words was sometimes incoherent with agitated haste but Marge 
had little difficulty in placing the confused tale together and she could 
read a great deal more between the lines. 

Janet had been the only child of doting parents and she had come late in 
their life. She'd been spoiled and petted and allowed to have everything 
that her well-to-do father could give. As soon as she was twenty-one she'd 
quit college (she'd only gone anyway because it was the 'in' thing to do) 
and married Scott White. They'd grown up together and he'd been her steady 
beau for years. Her parents hadn't approved of her leaving school to get 
married - probably wanted to hang on to their little girl - and were even 
more disappointed when Scott's work took the newly-weds to California almost 
immediately following the honeymoon. 

For the first six months everything had gone beautifully. Scott was making 
an exceptionally good salary with every expectation of rapidly making more. 
So they used the several thousand dollars he'd saved before their marriage 
as a down payment on a forty thousand dollar house and relatively expensive 
furniture. They went in a little over their heads, it's true, but Scott 
found it hard to refuse Jan anything she'd set her heart on. The house was a 
good investment and he'd been promised a substantial raise and bonus at the 
end of the year. So life was beautiful and Janet was a little girl thrilled 
with playing house. 

Almost overnight the fragile bubble burst into a flood of bitter tears. 
Scott received his induction notice into the army, passed the physical, 
spent eight weeks at Fort Ord in basic training, came home for two weeks of 
tearful goodbyes and left for Viet Nam. 

Marge interrupted her to ask why Janet hadn't gone back home to live with 
her folks. It seemed she was too proud to do that after their opposition to 
her marriage and anyway, it turned out the house wasn't such a good 
investment after all, at least not for a few years. 

If she sold it they would lose all of the money paid down, besides, she 
didn't want to give up their lovely new home! And what of all the furniture 
that she'd chosen so carefully ? 

How could she let that just go back to the store? 

The money from Scott's army allotment wasn't anywhere nearly enough to go 
around. 

Why, she couldn't exist on that in a furnished room. So she had simply 
decided to get a job. She wasn't stupid (Much, Marge thought ruefully.) and 
she'd had a college education well three years of one anyway. But even so 
she had discovered she really didn't know anything! At least not enough of 
any one thing that made her qualified to get a job doing it and nobody would 
hire her! And there was hardly any money left in the bank and the bills kept 
piling up and she missed Scott so... 

"And I tried five... five! different places today and only one would even 
let me leave an application, and even if I got the job the salary wasn't 
very much... it wouldn't began to... " She ran completely out of breath, but 
a spark of anger was rekindled in her eyes and her shoulders straightened as 
she'd unloaded some of the weight of her problems simply in the telling. 

Marge had been studying Jan with a peculiar mixture of sympathy and 
speculation. As a rule she couldn't care less what happened to members of 
her own sex. Orphaned at an early age, more or less literally kicked from 
pillar to post, she'd gotten married for the first time at fifteen and gone 
through four husbands since then. For all the good it did her she might as 
well have stuck with the first punk kid she'd fallen for. Hers was the not 
uncommon failing of type-casting her mates and each was basically a carbon 
copy of the other, the last not much more than a procurer. Harry was the 
best thing that had ever happened to her, aside from simply growing up and 
turning into a stunning amazon. Living with the tiny nagging fear that both 
of these happy accidents would eventually fade, Marge now looked after Marge 
exclusively. 

An unexpected empathy with the red-haired girl at her side ignited some 
unknown inner spark and it flared up just long enough to alter the course of 
Janet's life. 

"Now you stay right here, Jan honey, and I'll be back in a jiffy." She gave 
her shoulder a final pat. With graceful agility surprising in a woman of her 
size she slid from the booth in a fluid motion and vanished towards the back 
of the bar. 

The waiter had silently replaced Jan's empty glass with a full one and she 
sipped at it in unthinking reflection as she waited. She was slowly 
beginning to wonder whatever had possessed her to break down like that and 
unload her troubles on a woman she hardly knew, when Marge was leaning over 
the table with a brisk command. 

"Powder your nose, Janet," she said, "and come on and meet your new boss." 

Jan learned later that Marge had happened to answer the phone that afternoon 
when one of the cocktail waitresses had called in and quit her job. The 
owner of the Inn hadn't even been aware of the fact when Marge stormed into 
his office with the solution to all of Jan's problems. She never did find 
out what Marge had said to him that persuaded him to hire a girl whose only 
experience with serving other people had been helping with sorority 
banquets. Perhaps Marge was evidence enough that Jack Quillan simply had a 
penchant for innocent, young curvaceous broads. 

Janet White deposited her cork-lined tray of dirty cocktail glasses on a far 
end of the bar and slipped through swinging half-doors into a kitchen 
hallway. Keeping an eye on her tables over the louvered oak she kicked off 
the high-heeled pumps flecked with sawdust. 

The cool cement eased the burning soles of her feet as she lighted a 
cigarette and heaved a sigh of relief. Tinny strains of "Gentle on My Mind" 
being pounded out in stepped-up tempo on the honky-tonk piano for at least 
the tenth time that night reverberated from the loud-speaker in the ceiling. 
Jan was wondering what in the name of Heaven she was doing here. 

The one time she and Scott had spent an evening at Jack's Cabin Inn with 
another couple Jan had found the novelty of the place marvelous fun. The 
continental dinner (at prices they really couldn't afford) had been 
intriguingly out of context in the atmosphere of gay nineties informality. 
The walls were a polished extension of the outer logs, the high ceilings 
heavily beamed, massive scarred and branded oak slabs topped the tables, and 
the planked floor was carpeted in sawdust. The genial bartenders and waiters 
were suave bowler-hatted, gartered-sleeved replicas of old-fashioned saloon 
attendants; the cocktail girls a much modernized and undressed version of 
the dance hall hostess from another era in low-bosomed, thigh-revealing 
costumes. 

In the midst of this blatant fakery Jan had been quick to notice and admire 
the authenticity and beauty of the lavish quantities of ruby glass, hand cut 
crystal, dully gleaming pewter and shining silver which transformed the Inn 
into a priceless museum of the old west. 

Standing under the small, hanging admonition "employees only" Jan pushed the 
memory from her mind, that happy girl seemed a stranger to the weary, 
stocking-footed cocktail waitress. The nerves at the back of her neck were a 
tortured jangle of red hot wires. At the end of two weeks on the working 
side of the scene all magic of the Inn was gone. She'd managed not to spill 
a drink on a customer for five nights in a row but, she was beginning to 
wonder if she ever would get every order straight and remember what kind of 
garnish went in which drink. 

Marge rounded the corner of the bar as Jan emerged through the swinging 
doors. "Hey, sweetie, I've been looking all over for you. We're all getting 
together for a shindig in the big banquet room as soon as we can get this 
place cleared out," she said. "So give the last call a little early, okay?" 

"Marge, I'm far too tired... " 

"Hey, Tom, give Jan a Courvoisier and I'll have a straight Chivas." 

"Who's going to be there? Anyway I can't... " 

"Now drink this down and you'll forget all about being tired," Marge urged. 
"It's just the gang here, a few regular customers and probably some of the 
band from the Colony in a jam session," she answered Jan's question and 
insisted, "And I won't take no for an answer, you deserve a little fun." 

Jan downed the smooth brandy with a shudder and felt a glow of warmth tingle 
through her body. She saw Heidi glaring in her direction as the other girl 
was serving one of her tables. She felt slightly light headed as she went 
guiltily back to work and as her spirits lifted she thought, why not, why 
shouldn't I try to have a good time once in a while? I will go along with 
them. Besides, she justified her decision, I should make an effort to get 
along with the people I have to work with. 

At first she had been truly shocked at the intimate details revealed in 
Heidi's conversations to all and sundry. The sultry German complained that 
her husband was a homosexual (despite the fact that they had four small 
children) so she had a good excuse for sleeping around and bragged of her 
sexual conquests with shameless delight. Jan's face had flamed brighter than 
the red of her hair at Heidi's description of one of the waiters. 

"That man is really hung. I'll swear his pecker is a foot long!" she'd 
raved. "I get hot just thinking about him." 

Despite herself Jan had found herself stealing glances at the fly of the 
waiter in question and wondering how that slight bulge could expand to such 
a length! The men's talk was not as crudely personal as Heidi's but their 
language was frequently outspoken in lewd and vulgar suggestiveness that 
grated on Jan's ear. She simply wasn't accustomed to a jargon many took for 
granted. 

She wasn't aware that the more she blushed and winced at the men's off hand 
remarks, the more off-color they became in deliberate attempt to shock. They 
mistook her confusion and quiet concentration on a new job in a strange 
environment as prim conceit. The clan resented the intrusion of this obvious 
outsider with the haughty air. It was a case of "when in Rome... " As 
Heidi's phallic wonder succinctly declaimed, "She better shit or get off the 
pot." 

Marge had heard complaints from all sides about her society friend and was 
getting fed up with the snide remarks. After urging Jan to join the party 
she'd asked the bartender to see that the new girl had one or two more 
drinks to relax her. As she started closing out the cash register she, too, 
was thinking that Jan was due to have a good time. The flame of extrinsic 
compassion that had burned brightly in Marge's breast to bring Janet White 
to Jack's Cabin Inn had long been turned to ashes. 

 CHAPTER TWO 

It was almost two-thirty before the remaining die-hards finally straggled 
out of the lounge. The kitchen closed at one so the dining room wing had 
long since been cleared, and the waiters had slowly gravitated to the 
private banquet quarters housed in a secluded area beyond the kitchen. 

An occasional blast of a dissonant drum emerged as a door opened and closed 
in the inner recesses of the cavernous building. The lights in the bar were 
dimmed and the room had the melancholy litter of carnival aftermath. Jan and 
Heidi gathered up the last of the watery liquor glasses while Marge sacked 
the evening receipts. She'd made several trips to the bar after having the 
drink with Jan and her words slurred slightly. "C'mon you two broads, let 
the bus boys finish cleanin' up that mess. Tom, one more for the road for us 
gals." 

Jan downed the brandy, her third, with no trace of the first shudder. The 
tension had melted from the back of her neck. She felt miraculously free and 
relaxed, even excited at the prospect of the party. 

"Are you sure it's all right to go like this?" She looked down at the 
scantiness of her barmaid costume. When she'd first started wearing it she 
had felt more naked than she did at the beach in a bikini. The off-shoulder, 
yellow satin blouse dipped so alarmingly in front that she'd held her breath 
everytime she leaned over a table for fear her ripe full breasts would swing 
out into the customers' faces. It was too revealing to allow for even a 
strapless bra so she just had to trust to luck. The mini, black velvet 
ruffle of skirt was drawn up on one side. Anchored to a red rose barely 
below her slim waist it exposed a gleaming expanse of transparent 
panty-hosed thigh and hip. Bending over in this also had it's dangers for a 
slight forward angle presented a delightful view of the rounded swell of 
Jan's smooth, white buttocks. 

But aside from an occasional guilty tug at bodice and hemline Jan had ceased 
to worry about her near nudity. Most of the time she was too busy to care 
unless an especially bold glance down the cleavage reminded her, and she was 
even getting used to ignoring that. 

She blushed at the obvious simplicity of her question and joined in the 
ensuing laughter. 

"Baby, half of LA. has seen most of what you've got to offer," Heidi hooted. 
"And most of the guys in the back room have feasted their orbs on all of 
little Heidi! Right now we're overdressed. Right Margie?" she concluded. 

Jan figured Heidi was running off at the mouth as usual and attached no 
importance to her last remark. As the trio linked arms and headed down a 
long corridor she reveled in the heady sensation of the warmth of belonging 
for the first time since Scott had gone away. 

A raucous wave of noise engulfed them as they entered the brilliantly 
lighted chamber. 

The room jumped before Jan's eyes as the pupils struggled to adjust from the 
dimness of the hall. Through the reverberations of sound and glare they 
picked out a bandstand in one corner and among the writhing group of 
musicians she recognized several as famous personalities. The dark figure 
crouched lovingly over the keyboard of a low upright and the frenetic tangle 
of thrashing limbs of the man at the drums were well known in the 
entertainment media. Their sweating faces shone like polished ebony as they 
ground out a jungle beat under the hot stream of baby spotlights. 

The crystal notes of a clarinet pierced the low moan of the sax and muted 
trumpet. Each instrument seemed to soar off in a different direction on 
variations of a different theme, but the surf- pounding bass gathered up the 
notes and hurled the melody into the room with a discordant harmony. 

Jan lingered on the fringe of the crowded tables, and the stirring rhythms 
combined with the liquor she'd consumed to flow with liquid heat through her 
bloodstream. The music came to an abrupt end with a crash of cymbals. In the 
burst of applause that followed Heidi whispered excitedly in her ear, "Man, 
that's the one for me! My panties are soaked already." 

"Oh Heidi don't exaggerate such things." Her voice was tinged with 
exasperation. "Which one?" 

"Why the black boy with the sticks, natch. Just imagine all that rhythm in 
bed... Oooeee! And who's exaggerating? Feel...!" 

Her hand sneaked down to Jan's and before Jan realized Heidi's intention 
found her fingers thrust into the wet pulsing furrow between Heidi's thighs. 
Curls of pubic hair had penetrated the porous mesh covering of panty-hose 
and the damp tendrils licked at her fingertips. A strange tingle of 
excitement swept up her arm as Heidi ground down and grasped Jan's hand in 
the fleshy fold of vaginal lips. Marge had caught the lightning gesture from 
the corner of her eye. 

"Behave, Heidi." She was becoming annoyed with the younger woman's avid 
sexual obsession, especially around Harry. "Can't you keep your mind out of 
your pants for five minutes? Hurry up, Harry's got a table for us over 
there," she finished sharply. 

Jan retrieved her sticky hand with a guilty start. She trailed the wet 
fingertips covertly along her thigh in an attempt to dry them and was 
astonished at the unexpected tightening throb in her own loins. The three 
women were greeted by exuberant cries of welcome as they made their way 
through the crowded tables and Jan sank with lowered eyes into a chair that 
was pulled out for her. 

"This is a pleasant surprise. I'm happy you came along to brighten my 
evening young lady." 

"Why, thank you Mr. Wexler," Jan said to the man pulling his chair closer to 
hers. She was glad to see a familiar face for so many strangers filled the 
room the Inn's employees were lost in the crowd. Marge had introduced 
Valentine Wexler to her as one of their special patron's when Jan came to 
work. She'd waited on him several times and secretly admired his mature good 
looks and suave charm. To her youthful eyes he was what she considered an 
older man, probably around forty, judging by the sprinkle of gray in his 
dark hair and the tiny network of lines at his eyes and mouth. But he 
carried his lean, muscular body with a youthful grace and had the flashing 
grin of an impish boy. The dark eyes which she'd thought rather chilling 
were now smiling at her with a warm admiration that was certainly 
flattering. 

"Please, not so formal Jan, call me Val." He poured champagne for her and 
refilled his own glass. "There, we're much to sober for the rest of this 
gang!" 

Jan didn't feel very sober as the brandies she'd had were taking effect but 
the wine was delightfully cool and tingling. Val kept her glass filled as he 
talked idly about the band and Janet's eyes wandered over the 
bottle-littered tables. Only a handful of women were scattered through the 
crowd. The predominance of well-dressed males gave it the aura of 
out-of-town conventioneers on a spree though most of them were businessmen 
who regularly patronized the Inn. 

The few couples on the miniature dance floor were moving more in the rhythm 
of love rather than the dance to the low wail of the juke box. Janet stared 
in fascination at a woman enveloped in her partner's embrace. She clung to 
his neck so her toes barely touched the floor, her lips glued fiercely to 
his mouth. Her hips and pelvis thrust into the curve of his body and ground 
against him with undulating, rotating rhythm. He held her hard against the 
straining lower region of his body with the splayed fingers of one hand 
cupping the pulpy flesh of her gently writhing buttocks. As they revolved in 
a slow circle of passion his other hand was gently kneading a gleaming bared 
breast thrust from the folds of her plunging unbuttoned bodice. 

Jan was conscious of a slowly gathering heat in her own body and a burning 
sensation in her thighs. An odd feeling gnawed at the pit of her stomach, a 
mixture of revulsion and strange desire. Warm moisture spread through the 
flimsy material at the crotch band of her panties and she squirmed deeper 
into the soft cushion of the chair. Her buttocks rocked without her own 
conscious volition in an almost indiscernible motion in rhythm with the 
writhing couple on the dance floor. She crossed her legs and pressed her 
damp thighs tightly together in an effort to ease the sudden tension of 
desire settled in the throbbing lips of her vagina. A sharp stab of pain in 
her thigh as her own fingernails involuntarily dug into the soft skin caused 
her to wrench her attention away from the lewd scene on the floor. She 
shifted upright with a guilty start and glanced furtively around the table, 
fervently hoping that her rising excitement had gone unnoticed. Thank 
goodness no one seemed to be paying any attention to her! 

Val Wexler was talking to someone standing in the aisle, his broad back half 
turned away from the table, and Marge and Harry were talking in loud voices 
in what appeared to be a fierce argument. The phrase, "If you'd prefer that 
fuckin' nigger-loving bitch, you horny old bastard...!" spewed from Marge's 
mouth above the babble of tongues unchained by liquor. Beads of perspiration 
coursed down the pink flab of Harry's mottled face as he was obviously 
trying to placate the hysterical Venus. 

Almost as soon as they'd sat down to the table Heidi had vanished, but she'd 
returned shortly with the drummer from the band in tow. She was now snuggled 
so close to him as to be practically sitting in his lap. He had one arm 
around her and was caressing her bare shoulder with short, kneading strokes. 
The vivid contrast of those long black fingers indented in the clear white 
flesh sent a tingling chill up Jan's spine. Heidi had one hand hidden below 
the surface of the table in the man's lap and the murky film of passion 
glazed his dark eyes. He slipped lower in the chair, and his ebony fingers 
ceased their roving motion and tightened in a strong grasp on Heidi's upper 
arm. 

She'd been in the act of raising a glass of champagne to her lips and the 
sudden pressure of his hand caused it to tip, spilling the wine down her 
chin and into the hollow between her breasts. Heidi let out a shrill giggle. 

"Oooooh, lover, see what you made me do! I spilled the bubbly all down my 
boobies! 

Mustn't waste it, doll... lap it up... quick!" 

With a sharp tug at her bodice she freed the swollen globes of her breasts, 
and the champagne formed a pale amber pool between the up-thrust mounds of 
erect-nippled beauty cupped lovingly in her hand. The jet-black head of the 
musician bent to the stirrup-cup of her bosom and his long, magenta tongue 
snaked deep in the moist cleft and licked voraciously at the sticky liquid. 
Uttering a low growl he nuzzled his dark face between Heidi's heaving 
breasts and pulled her roughly onto his lap. 

Jan gaped at the pulsing symphony of ebony and alabaster in horrified 
excitement. Her throat constricted and she found it difficult to breathe. 
She drained a glass of wine in a single gulp in an attempt to soothe the 
dryness of her mouth. Val turned back to the table with a mumble of apology 
for neglecting her as she put down the empty glass. As quickly as he'd 
refilled it she emptied it again thirstily. His eyes took in the entwined 
pair across the table. 

Heidi had straddled the Negro's hips and her back was toward them as the two 
were slouched down in an almost horizontal position. The long cloth draping 
the table fanned out to blanket the lower section of their bodies. The snowy 
linen humped violently up and down with the thrusting motions of Heidi's 
buttocks as she see-sawed in wild abandon on the obviously impaling rod 
beneath her. The force of their grunting, rooting gyrations gradually 
dislodged the furiously copulating couple from their precarious position on 
the chair, and they rolled out of sight to the floor in a tumble of writhing 
black and white flesh. 

Val had drawn Jan's trembling body into the firm, protective shelter of his 
arm. With a shudder of confused embarrassment she hid the expression of 
naked desire and revulsion on her face in the depths of his comforting 
shoulder. His own countenance wore a leer of lascivious appreciation at 
Heidi's wanton conduct. The heat spreading in tangible waves from Jan's 
enflamed body aroused an answering urgency in his groin. 

"There, there, Jan honey. Don't let the antics of that little whore upset 
you." The twitching muscles of his thigh pressed ardently along the length 
of her leg in sharp contrast to the deliberately controlled level of his low 
murmur in her ear. "You just have to learn to take such things in stride. 
The poor girl can't help being what she is anymore than she can help 
breathing." 

Jan was beginning to realize the truth of his words regarding Heidi, but 
that was no excuse for the flood of sensual torment that raged in unchecked 
demand through every nerve of her body. Even as she buried her head in 
shame, the thrilling closeness of Val's leg against hers sent fresh waves of 
strange, delightful excitement quivering through her. 

The flow of moisture from her involuntarily excited vagina was a warm, 
sticky pool between her clenched thighs and her buttocks squirmed in 
uncontrolled delight on the thick, wet heat of the cushion. She gasped for 
breath against his shoulder... Even in the most intense moments of Scott's 
lovemaking she had never felt like this. Her body burned with a fever of 
passion and her head swam in the glowing stimulation of champagne. 

Jan moaned softly and straightened and lifted her swirling head as she 
struggled to regain some control of her churning senses. A cheering 
semicircle of spectators had begun to gather around the convulsing figures 
of Heidi and her partner on the floor. Swaying in a lustful body they 
clapped their hands in time with the pounding rhythm of the moving couple at 
their feet. The applause quickened and the cheers swelled to a shrill 
crescendo at the peak of climax then shattered into hoarse, staccato gasps 
that audibly echoed the jerking, spasmodic aftermath of orgasmic release. 

Jan closed her eyes and leaned her head back on the comforting curve of 
Val's arm, grateful for the sense of security that lay in the strong bulk of 
his nearness. In the havoc of lewd, Bacchanalian revelry he seemed a bulwark 
of safety. Though the touch of his thigh on hers was still disturbingly 
seductive, the keen edge of chaos in her unruly body had dulled to a slow, 
almost aching throb. 

She was truly frightened by the effects of Heidi's love play. It had 
stimulated a towering passion far surpassing the sexual relationship she'd 
had ever had with her own husband. 

Through the confused alcoholic cloud in her brain she was confronted with 
the reality that she had put herself in Heidi's place in the drummer's arms. 
The treacherous body of Janet White had been stirred to the boiling point by 
the black man's caresses. The flesh of her arm had thrilled to the touch of 
his stroking fingers, the swell of her breasts had risen eagerly to meet his 
licking tongue. 

She'd been twenty-one before experiencing intercourse with any man, but had 
never been overcome by sensations like this. My God, she thought, how am I 
going to be able to bear it till Scott comes home? Am I a shameless wanton 
like Heidi? 

Val Wexler's next words came as though he had been reading the girl's 
tormented thoughts. "Come now, Jan... are you actually blushing? Open your 
eyes and drink your wine like a good girl. The party's only begun and I do 
believe you're embarrassed. And maybe a little ashamed because this whole 
act stirred you up a bit... right?" 

He knew damn well this young innocent had been a hell of a lot more than a 
'bit' stirred. 

Her thigh pressed to his was feverish with the heat of aroused desire. As 
she'd rested on his arm with closed eyes the rapid rise and fall of her 
swollen, straining breasts had plainly betrayed her agitation. Also, his 
trained eye hadn't missed the significance of Jan's covertly squirming hips 
and the contracting muscles in her inner thigh. 

"I-I guess you're right," she admitted guiltily. "I couldn't help but 
feel... well... sort of hot... and... " She gulped more champagne to cover 
her confusion, but her violet eyes met his with trusting wonder. 

"Honey, you wouldn't be normal if you didn't get some kick out of a sexy 
scene like that... a white gal fucking a black man right before your eyes," 
he rationalized. "And don't look so shocked, it's only a word and it's 
something everybody does... Certainly nothing to be ashamed of." He grinned 
like a mischievous boy and added, "would you rather I'd said 'fornicating' ? 
After all a rose is a rose is a rose...!" 

Jan burst out laughing. The champagne bubbles tickled her nose and suddenly 
she felt hilariously relaxed as she wiped the tears of mirth from her eyes. 
His deft little pep talk had allayed Jean's fears. 

"Watch this... Margie is going to do her specialty and she's damn good at it 
too." Val tightened his arm around Jan and turned her attention to the dance 
floor. Harry had moved his chair next to hers to be at the floor's edge for 
a better view. 

The impromptu band was back on the stage as the overhead lights dimmed to a 
soft glow. 

The drummer, looking only slightly disheveled from the romp with Heidi, beat 
a staccato tattoo which was followed by a long, echoing roll. An amber beam 
of light picked out Marge's tall, voluptuous figure gliding languidly to the 
center of the floor. She stood weaving slightly in the circle of light until 
the room became hushed, then backed off to the bandstand, her body weaving 
sensuously. Wriggling, she leaned backward at the feet of the Negro at the 
piano, raised one leg, and kicked off her shoe. She repeated the gesture 
with the other leg. Then slowly and rhythmically she peeled off her 
stockings. 

Her fingers went to the honeyed tresses piled high on her head and removed 
the pins with negligent grace, languidly tossing them on the piano. As she 
performed the slow ritual her eyes caressed the dark figure dreamily coaxing 
a soft chording ripple from the keyboard. 

Jan felt Harry's hot breath on her neck as he mumbled obscenities in his 
throat and tossed restlessly in his hair. Marge was getting her revenge if 
Heidi had been the cause of their quarrel. 

Looking provocatively at the pianist, she tossed back her head and the long 
blond hair cascaded down her spine. She swung into a slow sensual dance. The 
music picked up the rhythm of her body with a suggestive, harem-dance beat. 
At first her full figure merely swayed slowly, hips undulating, protruding 
bosom rippling under the thin silk of the blouse she wore. But as her 
fingers crept to the buttons running down the front, her tempo quickened 
slightly. 

The blouse was unbuttoned now and pulled free of her skirt. It swirled 
behind her as her movements grew faster. The half-moons of her breasts rose 
in a shimmer of creamy flesh from the bodice of her slip, swelling with her 
excited breathing, and her face grew flushed. 

The blouse fell from her shoulders and her hands moved over her body in a 
prolonged caress. 

Jan felt her own breathing quicken and drank thirstily from the glass Val 
held to her lips. 

He'd removed his arm at the start of the dance, now once more he pulled her 
to him, and she snuggled defensively into the curve of his body as he turned 
halfway to face her. 

"Quite a hunk of female, isn't she?" 

Marge was squeezing her full, ripe breasts, her fingers pulling at the 
nipples until they distended in sharp points thrusting at the material of 
her bra and slip. Her hands moved to her hips, kneading them, and then moved 
around behind her to stroke the smooth roundness of her buttocks. Finally 
she opened the zipper at the waistband of her skirt, and the garment dropped 
to the floor. She stepped out of it and kicked it aside and danced across 
the floor to Harry's chair. 

Slowly, buttocks writhing, she turned her back to him and bent from the 
waist until her fingertips grazed the floor. Her haunches rotated in a 
lascivious orbit. Harry thrust his hand into the deep cleft of the fleshy 
cheeks, and Marge quickly turned around and backed out of reach. Her fingers 
pushed at the strap of her slip and with a fluid motion the slip slid from 
her body and she stepped out of it. A gasp went up throughout the room at 
the sigh of her magnificent body clad only in lacy bra and panties. 

Val's hand moved under Jan's arm and cupped one breast. Her breath caught in 
her throat at the touch of his gently working fingers. The fire that had 
flamed through her earlier rekindled with an even brighter blaze. Her own 
hands moved with a will of their own to shamelessly force the satin bodice 
to her waist and there was a small tearing noise. Her straining breasts 
surged free and the left breast thrust itself into Val's pawing hand. He 
uttered a low moan as the nipple hardened and expanded in his palm. 

Harry's breathing was a rasping gurgle from his throat and he twitched 
nervously on the edge of his seat as Marge went into the motions of a 
professional stripper. The lower half of her body activated a series of 
bumps and grinds and her fingertips slid into the waistband of her panties. 
Slowly, she rolled them down until the shadowy triangle between her thighs 
was covered and her rhythm changed to a sensuous, undulating belly-dance. 

The muscles of her smooth, flat stomach quivered, and her navel contracted 
and expanded in a pulsating, suction-like pant. Without breaking her rhythm 
she turned around. 

The cheeks of her buttocks were clearly bisected, the naked glistening 
halves rotating in taut muscular circles. Her hands slid down her sides and 
caressed her waist and hips, then moved to her buttocks as she bent forward. 
As she leaned over her long fingers kneading at the still rotating cheeks 
then drew them slowly apart to reveal the tiny anus, a puckered 
rubbery-fleshed ring nestled in the deep inviting crevice. 

Val bent his head and fastened his mouth on the tip of Jan's right breast. 
His tongue flicked wetly at the erect nipple and it lengthened and quivered 
against his hot lips in rhythm with the twin taper in the grip of his 
fingers. His hand on her thigh dug into the soft inner flesh and her entire 
body seemed to pulse like hot molten lava, boiling and churning under the 
molding pressure of his hands. On the other side of the inflamed girl low 
guttural moans came from between Harry's clenched teeth and his pudgy 
fingers were fumbling at the zipper of his fly. 

Marge turned around again to face them and her hand reached around to the 
middle of her back and unhooked her bra. It hung loosely in front of her 
breasts and they bounced in unrestrained abandon as she swiveled from side 
to side. She slid one arm free of the strap and the cup now barely concealed 
her breast as her fingers lightly held the strap away from her bosom. She 
glided very close to Harry now. He reached to push down the rolled triangle 
of lace still covering her pubic hair and she slapped his hand away. 

Her fingers opened and the bra strap fell. She bent toward Harry and slipped 
her hand under the pendulous, swinging breast as she guided it close to his 
face. The rosy aureole was clearly etched on the ivory flesh and wide as a 
half-dollar, the nip- pie itself a deeper red, erect and protruding to his 
hungry mouth. She let the long tip just graze Harry's lips and as they 
strained to fasten on the pulsing morsel Marge laughed huskily and danced 
away. A visible excitement rippled through her body. 

With a wild sweep she tossed the bra across the room and both breasts 
bounced free, sculpted strawberry-tipped, ivory melons, the deep crevice 
between moist with a tiny trickle of perspiration. The tempo of the dance 
slowed and with eyes closed, hair cascading over her ripe breasts, Marge 
strummed the pointed nipples peeping redly through the tendrils of soft fair 
hair. Like a skillful guitarist, her fingers flew over the red buds until 
they quivered with yearning. The instruments of the band seemed to drum out 
a low, whining, answering cry. Then her hands dropped abruptly to her 
panties. 

Bending at the knees, she leaned far backward, her body arched like a 
bow-string. Her pelvis moved in a long, pulsating undulation as she slowly 
pushed the panties down and the silky, flaxen mound of her pubic triangle 
sprang into view. She closed her knees tightly and the panties slipped off 
altogether. 

Val had raised his head as the tempo of the music altered in relation to the 
mood of her dance. Although he'd witnessed Marge's licentious interpretation 
of a striptease many times it never failed to incite him. Harry's presence 
always added an extra fillip of titillation to the finale, which really 
wasn't necessary with the fire from Jan's velvet flesh searing his 
fingertips and stirring his blood to the boiling point. His balls ached 
beneath the swollen balloon of his penis straining at the crotch of his 
pants. He kissed the warm sweet pulse throbbing at Jan's temple, then 
nibbled at the lobe of her ear. 

His teasing mouth breathed a fresh blast of fury into the fever of her 
desire. A shudder swept over her traveling the length of her body. Her heart 
was beating like a triphammer now and it skipped a beat as she caught the 
flash of a pale, snake-like movement in Harry's lap. His huge, hardening 
penis slithered with reptilian menace from the folds of his gaping fly. The 
bulbous head glowed with the throbbing crimson of passion, droplets of venom 
oozing from its mouth. His sweating body rumbled with the impatience of a 
lighted firecracker about to explode. 

The panties gone, Marge, still straining in a back bend, moved her legs 
slowly apart - farther and farther - until the soft blonde nest of pubic 
hair gradually parted. The exposed pink vaginal folds glistened with the 
moisture of her flowing juices. Her fingers twined in the passion-dampened 
curls, and gently distended the pink hair-lined furrow. They fondled and 
pinched the tender nether lips until they throbbed visibly and deepened in 
color to a cherry red. She then stroked the tiny stamen-like clitoris in the 
opened flower of her cunt and it responded with eager erection to her touch. 

Watching Marge's slippery fingertips strum the tiny nerve of sensation 
between her legs sent an agonizing- torrent of passion rushing through Jan's 
body with a swift inexorable force as uncontrollable as a plummeting 
meteorite. She shook with a feverish chill and she felt a heavy sluggish 
stirring in her womb. She thought hysterically, this is what it must feel 
like to be with child, this heavenly almost unbearable pressure deep in my 
belly. The fullness in her womb, the fiery serpent of lust belching jagged 
spurts of flame into her vagina, the gush of inner passion flowing from the 
gasping mouth of her vulva - were an all-consuming force. 

Hardly aware of what she was doing she slid down further in the chair, 
arching and twisting her hips to thrust her demanding pubic mound into the 
hand that had been clenching her thigh. Val's strong fingers clutched the 
protruding mound and it split like an over-ripe melon in his grasp. His 
middle finger gently parted the pubic hair and sank into the opening of the 
pulpy-fleshed lips of her cunt. They contracted and grasped at the firm, 
round digit, drawing it into the length of the sucking furrow as deeply as 
the soaked barrier of the flimsy crotch of panty hose would allow. 

"My God!" she groaned. "Ohhhh!" 

And as Jan had shoved her pubic mound hard down in his palm, one hand had 
been driven by a will of its own to the waistband of Val's trousers. She 
forced it down into his pants, fumbled through the fly of his trunks and 
slid her searching fingers down to the inflating penis stretched along his 
thigh. He felt it take a joyous leap with- in her grasp and his balls surged 
with a painful pleasure. The swollen head of his cock throbbed against his 
leg with wet, slobbering kisses of his life's juices. 

In the next instant Janet was swept wildly into a whirlpool of sound and 
motion. A loud crash rent the cocoon of desire enveloping her senses, Val's 
shout, "That goddamn bastard!" rang in her ears. She found herself on her 
feet, passion and wine befuddling her mind and body so she would have fallen 
but for Val's tight embrace. Only a vague comprehension of what had happened 
penetrated her swirling brain as she clung to Val with one arm around him. 
Her other arm was pressed between them, imprisoned in his trousers, her hand 
holding tightly onto his stiff prick. Over his shoulder, her eyes focused on 
Harry's lunge across the stage and stared in lustful amazement. 

The noise behind her had been the overturning of the table. In his 
overpowering drive to get at Marge, Harry had pushed his heavy body up and 
away from his seat with the propulsion of a rocket. The force of the violent 
shove he'd given the chair had caused it to collide with the one in which 
Jan had been sitting. As that rocked over it caught the edge of the table 
and overturned it with a crash of breaking glasses and bottles. Val had 
known what Harry would do as a grand finale to the dance, and sensing the 
first motion of his wild spurt from his seat, had scooped Jan up in his 
arms. 

The obese little man was waddling across the floor as rapidly as his short 
stubby legs would carry him. His eyes were narrow slits in the flushed globe 
of his face; his broad nostrils a flaring snout in scent of his prey. His 
buttocks jiggled obscenely from behind, his huge penis waved before him, the 
foreskin tight back, its blood-pressured head a bright, guiding beacon. The 
sabrelike rod propelled the panting lump of his body with the fury of a 
phallic juggernaut. 

Marge balanced precariously with legs outstretched. Her body still swayed 
slightly backward, and her fingers distended the lips of her vagina in eager 
anticipation. She waited for the obscene Satyr of fertility bearing down on 
her. Harry guided his missile-poised cock with unerring accuracy to the 
ready, hair-lined cuntal slit gaping lewdly between her widespread legs. She 
emitted a shrill scream of agonized joy as the monstrous instrument rammed 
home and its swollen gland prodded savagely at the sensitive cervix walls. 

Harry twined his legs around Marge's waist as he leaped up her. The jarring 
shock of collision sent their fused bodies tumbling to the floor in a tangle 
of flailing arms and legs. 

In his mind's eye Val reviewed the lascivious mating taking place behind 
him. As Jan stared at the scene over his shoulder he could feel the powerful 
reaction it had on her in the trembling of her body. He kept his own body 
motionless, other than the involuntary jerking of his penis in her hand, and 
thrilled to her quickening response to the stimulus of Harry's brutal attack 
on the naked Marge. 

Despite Marge's strapping bulk and the relative size of her cuntal passage, 
the length and breadth of the genital staff charging towards her was so 
tremendous Jan feared it must surely tear her asunder. She felt a mutual 
shock of pain stab through her womb at the point of impact and winced as the 
pelvically welded pair crashed to the floor. Harry's corpulent body was a 
convulsing bellows of flesh pumping its life's breath into Marge's greedy 
loins. With each stroke his white furious penis disappeared into the well of 
her cunt. He would draw it out to the raw, red glans tip then plunge it in 
to the hilt with a vicious jab. 

As Jan watched the increasing momentum of the wildly pumping rod of flesh 
her own lips began a rhythmic involuntary undulation. She tore her eyes away 
as Val's lips sought hers. His searching tongue moved under hers and filled 
her mouth deeply, sliding and twisting and twining around her own probing 
member. It was a jet flame radiating a dazzling brilliance of heat lightning 
through every raw, burning nerve end. Her body vibrated against his. Her 
swollen breasts ached as they burrowed into his chest, the nipples hard, 
searing points of frozen fire. 

She felt his cock hardening, stiffening, expanding in her hand. Fiercely she 
grasped its fist-like girth and it leaped and struggled like a caged animal. 
An overwhelming surge of sensation moved up from her knees and down from her 
neck in intense bursting pleasure. 

Val's hot demanding hands roved over her body in a tracery of insistent 
passion. She spread her groping fingers to the tip of his inflated penis. 
The fleshy fold of foreskin was an encircling rubbery rim above the swollen 
gland. It felt like a huge knob of fire, polished to a slippery smoothness 
by the lubrication of seminal fluid. Her fingertips gently probed at the 
tiny, pulsating glans mouth. The warmth of the droplets of sticky moisture 
sent a roaring freshet of sensual delight coursing through her and she felt 
an answering rush of vaginal rain flowing between her legs. 

The spiraling surge of lusting desire suddenly burst into uncontrollable 
passion. Jan found herself gripping Val's penis tight to her prodding, 
thrusting pelvic mound. She rubbed herself furiously up and down, on the 
hardness of his cock. 

"Jesus Christ... wait... let me get the damn thing out," he gasped harshly, 
almost on the verge of orgasm. One hand struggled roughly at the waistband 
of her panty hose, pulling and tugging with frenzied haste; the other 
fumbled wildly at his belt buckle and fly. 

Jan scarcely heard his agonized plea. The struggling, rutting animal in her 
hand had wormed its head from the top of his trousers. Beneath her skirt it 
was a red hot branding-iron tip boring wetly into the soft flesh of her 
belly. Her hand jumped wildly up and down. 

Faster and faster she slipped the skin back and forth on his jerking cock as 
she rubbed herself against it. Still struggling vainly to force his fingers 
between cock and cunt to unzip his fly, Val let out the loud cry of a 
tortured animal. His body stiffened with a convulsive spasm. 

Jan felt his cock expand and burst in hen hand. His balls erupted and a 
fountain of hot sperm spewed forth and flowed in a sticky, roiling sea over 
her stomach and down her hand. She felt the pounding pressure in her womb 
give a last giant surge, then the inner walls exploded with shattering 
force. Her entire body shook with the fury of a cascading avalanche. 

They clung desperately to each other, their bodies locked in spasmodic 
embrace. The tremors convulsing Jan's body finally lessened and stilled. She 
lay in Val's slowly relaxing arms in a daze of inert repletion, cleansed 
driftwood tossed back to the shore from the buffeting of an eternally 
pounding surf. She could feel her legs trembling like those of a new born 
colt as she struggled to will her mindless thoughts back to some semblance 
of reality. The warm wetness gluing her body to his was coagulating to a 
clammy, oozing chill when she finally found enough strength to pull herself 
away. 

Still foundering in a champagne fog the room whirled around her in a dizzy 
haze. Her skirt clung to her loins with a warm, glutinous suction as the 
black velvet turned a spreading, silver gray, The sticky liquid stream 
matting her pubic hail and flowing down the sensitive flesh of her inner 
thighs took her back to her first day in kindergarten. Timid about raising 
her hand in front of so many boys she had waited too long and wet her pants. 
In an agony of shame and embarrassment she had blurted out, "Please, I've 
got to go to the bathroom...!" 

As the distasteful memory returned to betray her the same, long-forgotten 
phrase tumbled inanely from her lips as she brushed past him and staggered 
blindly from the room. 

Val let her go without a word, his usually glib tongue silently berating 
himself for going off in his pants like some callow youth. His face flushed 
with anger and disgust as he eyed the moist spot slowly spreading across the 
front of his trousers. His deflated penis hung limp and dripping down his 
leg, and he tried vainly to mop up the sticky mess on his stomach with his 
shirttails. He couldn't recall ever allowing a woman to get him so hot and 
excited that he completely lost control of the situation. And an 
inexperienced young chit like that... ! His self-anger turned on Jan as he 
muttered half aloud, "I'll teach that little bitch what fucking's all 
about!" 

 CHAPTER THREE 

Heidi was at the bar mixing herself a drink. In the long run she found a 
steady diet of champagne too sluggishly enervating so she was concocting her 
special version of a Bloody Mary. She splashed a good four ounces of gin 
over ice in a tall glass, added about one ounce of tomato juice and stirred 
in a dash of bitters. As she held the muted-red powerhouse to the light and 
squinted at the mixture in admiration, Jan's tall figure caught her eye. 

The girl was backing away from Val Wexler's out-stretched arms and Heidi's 
glance was drawn automatically to its eventual target. A knowing grin 
lighted her face at the telltale shadow creeping darkly across the material 
at Val's crotch. Her first impulse was to join him, but her eyes followed 
Jan's unsteady progress toward the hall and she quickly changed her mind. 
Reaching for another glass she began mixing a duplicate of her own drink. 

The young stud whose genital endowments she'd once raved about to Jan was 
close beside her. While Heidi's hands had been busy with bottles and glasses 
he'd been occupied with his own pursuit. He had one hand buried nonchalantly 
between her legs. 

The fingers toyed idly in the soaked morass of pubic hair, gently pinching 
and pulling at the soft fleshy dew-lips on her cunt. From the depths of the 
gently quivering vaginal walls he felt the slippery folds of flesh quicken 
to his caress. His exposed male member, thumping with impatient whacks at 
Heidi's hip, was almost as tremendous as she'd vowed it to be. 

Its enthusiastic jabs tempted Heidi to stay for a quick bang, but she 
snickered and wiggled her pussy away from his hand. She gave the stiff, 
waving prick a playful tug. 

"Whoa, there... Clyde. I gotta go... in another sec I'll be peeing in your 
hand," she laughed and picked up the glasses. "Keep it up an' at 'em, and 
I'll be right back to collect." 

With a lewd wink over her shoulder she jiggled away through the thinning 
crowd. 

Drinks in hand Heidi moved in the direction Jan had taken to the ladies 
room. At first glance the outer lounge appeared to be deserted, then she 
spotted her prey in a far corner. The disheveled redhead was perched 
precariously on one of the lavatories, her round buttocks braced uncertainly 
on the narrow rim of the basin. She had her legs stretched widely apart and 
her toes barely touched the carpet. Her fingers clutched a dripping mass of 
paper toweling, and with the soggy wad she scrubbed wildly at the russet 
triangle between her outspread thighs. 

Apparently it hadn't occurred to the befuddled girl to remove her panty 
hose. A ladder-like web of runs in the sheer nylon rayed from her crotch as 
her nails ripped at the delicate fabric. The grayish-white film of 
crystalline semen caking on Jan's thighs confirmed Heidi's speculation as to 
the cause of the ugly stain at Val's groin. She groaned inwardly and 
thought, Christ, if that'd been me all that lovely juice would be sloshing 
around in my gut right now! That poor dumb chick doesn't even know which way 
is up! 

Whenever at a loss for words, and that seemed to be too much of the time, 
Heidi took the light approach, no matter what the situation. 

"Honey, no matter how hard you try, it won't rub off. If it did I'd be 
cuntless years ago!" she joked. "Anyway, why waste it... with all those 
hungry peckers out there?" 

Jan's breasts were still bared and thrust in scar-let-tipped beauty from 
between her arms. 

They swung heavily with the exertion of her rapid, scrubbing motion. Heidi 
stared with unconcealed desire at the agitated globes. Jan's glazed eyes met 
hers with such a blank, vacant look that she realized the girl was in a 
state of near shock. 

Downing one of the drinks she carried in a single gulp she stilled Jan's 
furious hands with a firm grasp. She literally poured the second strong 
potion down Janet's throat, drawing the girl upright and steadying her on 
her feet. 

The sharp, abrasive liquor seared Jan's throat and she gasped and sputtered 
as it plummeted to her stomach like a ball of liquid fire. The alcoholic 
elixir had a momentarily sobering shock. Her eyes cleared and slowly focused 
on Heidi in stunned recognition. As the gin rushed warmly through her body 
she felt as though she'd been aroused from a restless, dream-filled sleep. 
Her foremost thoughts were that she must be very drunk and felt miserably 
uncomfortable. A hysterical giggle bubbled up from her throat, ending in a 
jarring hiccup. 

"Oh, Heidi... am I glad to see you! I'm such a mess... and I want to go 
home!" she wailed. 

"Don't fret, sugar. Heidi'll take you home... and we can have our own little 
party... " They left the Inn in the pale red light of dawn. A low-lying haze 
shrouded the surrounding industrial area in an unearthly gloom. The 
remaining cars scattered at random across the Inn's parking lot loomed 
through the eerie mist like obscenely lacquered tombstones of shining metal 
in a vast graveyard of asphalt. Seen in the flat dimness of early morning, 
the Inn was denuded of its neon glamour. It reverted to an ungainly, Paul 
Bunyon handful of lumber flung haphazardly into the center of a cement 
forest. The ersatz frosting of snow on the roof became an aging, gray mould 
of meringue that dripped dispiritedly from the sprawling log pile. 

Nearby, the sleeping hulks of office and factory were eyeless Goliaths, 
disturbed here and there by the solitary lights of an occasional maintenance 
crew. The hushed silence was penetrated by the hum of an untiring 
compressor, and a muted clanking bang of freight cars coupling on some 
distant railroad siding. The lonely, night owl hoot of the diesel moaned 
through the air. 

Luckily for Heidi (and the myriad of motorists who traversed the streets 
during the work-day week) the usually busy area was a deserted ghost town in 
the early Sabbath hours. At the wheel of Jan's little sports car she wove an 
erratic trail to the house. She rambled vocally with customary indiscretion 
about the men in her life and her loutish husband in particular. She hadn't 
wanted to be saddled with a family to begin with, she explained, so it was 
only fair he should stay with the kids when she needed to relax and have a 
little fun. 

Jan said little, merely giving occasional directions, and heard little of 
what Heidi was saying. She sat curled up quietly at her side, riding in a 
euphoric daze. 

It was blatantly obvious from the trend of Heidi's disjointed monologue that 
any self-respecting alley cat would have been shocked by her complete lack 
of moral perception. 

But only vague bits of her self-revealing discourse penetrated Jan's 
liquor-clouded brain, and she was grateful for the warmth of companionship. 
By the time she reached home she felt like a little girl who has found a new 
friend. She was childishly pleased by Heidi's enthusiastic reaction to the 
new house. 

"Holy cow, Jan, do you rattle around this big place all by yourself?" she 
exclaimed at the bedroom door. 

"I did after Scott left till last week. His kid sister is staying with me 
for awhile. Betty... only sixteen. Don't really know her yet... working and 
all." She was struggling with the buttons at the back of her ruined skirt. 
Scott, her husband ! It dawned on her that she'd hardly thought about him at 
all during the turbulent evening. A sudden rush of longing and alcoholic 
self-pity swept through her and she fell back on the bed with a sob. 

"Aw, honey what's the matter? Come on, let's get you cleaned up and you'll 
feel better." 

Hell, she thought, I guess I'm in for a crying jag. She stripped off Jan's 
bedraggled costume and went into the adjoining bathroom. Coming back with 
towels and damp wash cloths in her hands she began by gently sponging the 
sobbing girl's tear stained face. 

"It's what happened tonight," Jan choked out. "With Val, I mean." 

"Shit, it serves him right. It's not your fault he went off in his pants." 

"No, that's not it... it was how I felt. When I watched Marge, and saw Harry 
go after her . . 

. like a rutting pig. I felt sick, yet excited too. And Val had been so 
sweet. But when his arm was around me, and he touched my breast... I even 
helped him... to kiss me there!" She shivered and her breasts ached with the 
remembered thrill of his mouth as Heidi tenderly stroked the blue-veined 
mounds with the warm cloth. 

Heidi caught her breath as Jan's up-thrust breasts seemed to swell beneath 
her hands. 

The red buds of the pointed nipples were erect and quivering and lengthened 
before her avid gaze. 

"I never... Scott never... " Jan fumbled for words. 

"You can't mean he never kissed your tits!" 

"Well yes, but not that way exactly, not licking with his tongue, and... 
biting." 

"Oh... and was that all Val did?" Heidi was breathing hard. She scrubbed at 
the dried sperm on Jan's smooth, white stomach then deftly flicked the cloth 
in the dusky, puckered well of her navel. The sensitive spot expanded and 
contracted and Jan gasped. 

"No, he put his hand between my legs, and... and played with me." 

"Played with your cunt?" 

"Yes, but the thing is... I wanted him to!" 

"Oh, kid, there's nothing new about that!" 

"No," Jan admitted. Her hips were writhing slightly down against the 
mattress as the washcloth moved in slow circles through her pubic hair. She 
was reliving what she'd done with Val and her next words came with a rush. 

"But I put my hand down in his pants. I couldn't help it! And the feel of 
him... oooh... he was so big. His... his... it was in my hand, it grew and 
got harder and harder and I felt the end of it... It was a big, round 
bulb... firm and smooth, all slippery...!" Heidi's fingers were probing the 
cloth now into the lips of Jan's vagina. The rough terry was a tantalizing 
agitation and she tried to squirm away. 

"Yes, yes... go on. And hold still, I've got to wash you clean. You had his 
cock in your hand? Say it, go on... his cock." 

"Ohhh, yes! His cock was in my hand... Big and hard and swollen. And there 
was a ring near the end, like a thick rubber band and I could slide it back 
and forth so it would nearly cover the round tip. His cock jumped almost out 
of my fingers when I did that. I ran my finger around the tip and it felt 
the way a fish's mouth looks... You know... sort of smooth, soft, little 
lips, opening and closing, gasping for breath!" 

"Sweet Jesus Christ! Haven't you ever felt your husband's cock!!!" Heidi's 
voice was a hoarse croak as she spread Jan's cunt lips. The rosy flesh was 
gathering moisture faster than she could wipe it away as the vaginal juices 
seeped slowly from the throbbing passage. 

"But he always had a rubber on it," Jan's voice rose to a wail. "So I 
couldn't feel it like that, the soft skin - over the hard rod... ! Val's 
cock was like a hungry animal in my hand... It throbbed and jerked, 
struggling like it wanted to break away, yet it prodded and nestled into my 
fingers... as though it wanted me to devour it! And then that huge head 
popped out of his pants... I looked down and there it was! 

With Scott we were always in the dark when... But I could see this... it was 
like a round ball of fire, and the tip... the tiny fish's mouth... sucked in 
and out, and in and out. It was dripping... drops like little milky pearls, 
only not thin like milk, but thicker, like pale honey. 

I rubbed it in my fingertips. It was sticky... a thin glue, warm and wet... 
and his cock leaped straight up in my hand... hard. My fingers stroked the 
soft outer skin and it felt loose and free. I pulled it up and down over the 
round hard core... faster and faster... all the while it swelled and 
struggled. Then... then... it seemed to burst in my hand... it exploded like 
a bomb! 

And I was covered with it... drowning in it. That hot fluid flooding my 
stomach, burning right through my skin... until it seemed to be whirling 
deeper... deeper... within my body. I couldn't bear it! Then suddenly I... 
I... Ohhh!" 

The thrust of Heidi's fingers, hard and deep into Jan's open and aroused 
vaginal passage had the ravaging effect of a hot branding iron on her mind 
and senses. She had mentally worked herself up to a pitch of frenzy. The 
recalled sensation of Val's ejaculation was so vividly with her that for the 
breadth of a heartbeat Heidi's finger was his penis entering her vulva. All 
of the distorted emotions that seethed within her - guilt, shame, passion, 
hunger and need - knifed through her at Heidi's touch like a falling sword 
of Damocles. 

With a horrified cry, Jan wrenched free. Flinging her body face down on the 
bed, she burst into a torrent of tears. 

"Well, I'll be goddamned...!" Heidi gasped, her moist fingers arrested in 
mid air. "What in the hell... ," is it with that broad? the thought ended 
silently. 

Her eyes bulged in frustrated amazement at Jan's sob-wracked body. Excited 
and stimulated by the feel of her and the graphic description of Val's 
erection, Heidi automatically slipped her hand to the demanding lips between 
her own thighs. With a contented sigh she stretched out beside Jan and 
arched her hips as her fingers slid slowly in and out of the excited 
cunt-slit protruding from her spraddled legs. The motion of her thrusting 
hips and plunging hand increased in tempo to a fluid, hurried up-and-down 
rhythm as the sobs beside her gradually lessened to a low keening moan. By 
the time her body was heaving and jerking in climax, Jan lay quietly in an 
exhausted slumber. 

With soft murmurs of satisfaction, Heidi squirmed sensuously into the depths 
of the thick mattress. Her hand lingered in her pubic hair, stroking and 
petting the soaked, hair-lined lips of her pussy until its spasmodic throbs 
subsided to a gentle purr. Finally sated, she grinned with drowsy 
satisfaction and rolled over on her side. She stretched her body full length 
against Jan's and snuggled into her full, warm curves, idly fondling the 
high swell of the girls dimpled buttocks. 

Mmmm... Heidi reflected sleepily, prob'ly just as well we both take a little 
nap... let some of the booze wear off. The new stuff I got from Doc Storm is 
a sweeter turn-on anyway. 

This big, beautiful redhead is sure ready to make the scene. Imagine that, 
she mused... a married woman and hadn't ever seen a man's cock under a full 
head of steam. Wowzie... the prettiest sight this side of heaven. 

She drifted off to sleep mulling over what was to her an almost unbelievable 
revelation of inexperience and deprivation. Oversexed herself, an undeniable 
fact of which she was extremely proud rather than ashamed, Heidi knew full 
well that sex wasn't the beginning and end of all things for every woman as 
it was for her. Or she had the sneaking suspicion that others like her 
suppressed their voracious appetites. Which was all right with Heidi - 
everyone was entitled to their own thing. 

Ever since she'd found out that little boys were different from little girls 
she'd like to show boys the simple, barnyard facts of sex. Girls, too, when 
the opportunity arose. 

Heidi had never heard of Sigmund Freud, much less read his theories, but she 
would have agreed wholeheartedly that "Sex is a biological drive clamoring 
for gratification from the moment of birth. In normal human beings its 
imperatives can be throttled by the rules of morality, but they can never be 
really denied." She might have bridled at the equivocation for she 
considered her concupiscence merely a high degree of normalcy. 

As she would have expressed it, she was only doing what came naturally. 
Morality... well, that was simply a minus factor in Heidi's make-up; the 
lack of which she wasn't even aware. 

 CHAPTER FOUR 

Janet stirred restlessly, still half asleep, under a firm stroking pressure 
on her thigh. She nestled her cheek in the palm of her hand and buried her 
head deeper into the downy pillow. Mmm... that feels nice, she thought. 
Scott... His name struck a chord of remembrance in her brain... Scott 
couldn't be here, he was gone, was far away. She raised her head abruptly. 
Overcome by needle stabs of whirling pain she sank back on the pillow with a 
groan. 

"Oh, God, my head!" It was bursting like a pricked balloon and a flood of 
nausea rose hotly in her parched throat. 

"Come on, drink this down like a good girl, it's just what the doctor 
ordered." 

Jan felt herself being gently lifted and drank thirstily from the glass held 
to her lips. The cool liquid tasted like tomato juice but it had a pungent, 
bitter tang. Gasping, she lay back with eyes pressed tightly shut to ward 
off the furies within her head that clawed her eyeballs with merciless 
fingers. She played the game of pretend from childhood that used to chase 
the hob-goblins away when she was lonely or afraid. Like 
Alice-in-Wonderland, she thought maybe if I keep my eyes closed - real tight 
- for just a little while, when I open them I won't be here at all. 

But at the sound of the next words, against her will Jan's lids flew open. 
The lingering trace of Heidi's Milwaukee-German accent was unmistakable and 
Jan stared at her in bewildered recognition. 

"Lie still for a minute, sugar, and you'll soon feel like a new woman," 
Heidi assured Jan and laughed. The phrase tickled her, for a new man was 
more like it, she thought. 

"But Heidi, what are you... how...?" Jan struggled to clear her head, to 
summon some sense of reality to her confused mind. 

"Don't worry, Dear. You're just suffering from an overdose of champagne. 
That rich man's hard cider will do it every damn time," Heidi declared with 
disgust. "You wouldn't think those little bubbles could swell up in your 
head in the morning like a friggin' balloon, would you?" 

She started on a lengthy discourse - for her - about the evils of champagne 
hangover as compared to a dozen different alcoholic beverages, and the why 
and wherefore of their cause and cure. This was one subject Heidi was 
undoubtedly well qualified to discuss with authority. Though she stopped 
short in detailing the curatives with variations of hair-of-the-dog 
remedies, her search for erotica had unearthed far more complex elixirs. 
Willing to try anything once on the chance it might add to sexual 
stimulation or delight, she'd run the gamut from marijuana to methedrine. 
None of which proved as potent as an aroused human body against hers. 

The powdery drug dissolved in Jan's tomato juice was an 
amphetamine-aphrodisiac mixture Heidi had found to be enticingly effective 
with a reluctant or lagging lover. Thus she patiently rattled on to allow 
time for its magic to act. 

Snatches of the sequence of the night slowly fell into place through the 
dust clouds in Jan's mind, but they seemed an almost dream-like fantasy. 
Pictures of the scene at the Inn flashed before her as images viewed through 
a converging optic lens. Though they were sharp and clear, they were of 
strangers lost in a different time, a different place. 

The violent headache had vanished and so had the awakening twinges of 
uncertain fear. 

In their place was a delightful sensation of light-headed warmth as Jan 
arose. Stretching languidly she walked towards the bathroom. 

Heidi turned from the patio window as Jan re-entered the room and sprawled 
back down on the bed. "Feel any better, Jan?" she asked. 

"I not only feel better, I feel wonderful! Still a little woozy though. 
You've been a lifesaver, Heidi," she assured her warmly. 

She reached over and switched on the bedside lamp, surprised to note it was 
past nine. 

The morning had turned cloudy and the artificial light brightened the room 
against a gray haze filtering in through the partially drawn curtains. Jan 
was amazed that what she just told Heidi could be true. When she first awoke 
she felt so miserable she could die. Her present dizziness wasn't 
uncomfortable, rather it was a tingling, pleasant, giddy whirl - a sort of 
eager, night before Christmas excitement. The image of Val's swollen penis 
peeking from his trouser band came unwittingly to mind, but the former 
nagging guilt was replaced by a surge of breathtaking delight. 

"Shit, I'm a regular Girl Scout," Heidi said. "I'm always prepared for 
anything." 

She stood at the foot of the bed and shucked Jan's robe which had replaced 
the rumpled semen stained costume. Despite the wear and tear of her 
childbearing, man-fondled body, Heidi's buxom figure boasted a nineteenth 
century loveliness. Though slightly drooping, her full pendulous breasts 
were firm and erect nippled, their enormous size disproportionate to her 
tiny waist. Her stomach was a trifle round with an almost invisible tracery 
of stretch marks scarring the plump flesh of her hips. Heidi's form was a 
modern-day dress designer's nightmare, but the male dream of sensual 
perfection down through the ages. 

Heidi in the buff was a striking sight. Freshly-bathed and powdered, her 
fair skin took on a pale peach gleam in the lamp's glow. Jan stared at her 
with open admiration, but was obviously surprised by the glossy black 
triangle of talcum-dusted pubic curls. The hair on Heidi's head had the 
golden hue of somewhat tarnished wheat. With her fair skin and pale, almost 
opaque blue eyes, the combination gave a decided impression of a true, 
though slightly touched-up blonde. The boldly protruding jet thatch was in 
startling contrast to this fair image, though many men found it an extremely 
erotic stimulant. 

"Put your eyeballs back in, honey. Most of us aren't blonde all over like 
Margie," Heidi lamented. "Though God knows I tried. And damned near burned 
the pussy right out of, honest!" 

"Sorry Heidi, but I think it's kind of cute, and I think your body is 
lovelier than hers, too." 

"Anyway, all cats look alike in the dark, they say, but they sure don't all 
feel the same!" 

Heidi came around to the head of the bed and said in a softer tone, "Raise 
up a little and let me straighten those pillows." 

As she leaned over, one swinging breast pressed in the hollow of Jan's 
shoulder. The touch sent an electric shock through her body and Jan shivered 
with pleasure. She felt slightly detached, as though she were drifting 
dazily in space caught up in a warm ray of sunlight. As Heidi's soft bottom 
thrust tight against her hip the heat from the sun grew stronger and spread 
through her loins. 

"You're not so bad yourself, you know," Heidi whispered huskily. "Such 
beautiful big tits . 

.." 

Her hands gently encircled the high-swelling perfect hemispheres of Jan's 
breasts. She lowered her head and lightly brushed her moist mouth over Jan's 
full parted lips. The younger girls body tensed as a strangely sweet flood 
of sensation washed over her. Then Heidi's mouth clamped down with eager, 
demanding fierceness, her tongue stiffened and thrust in Jan's mouth, hotly 
searching. 

A passing shadow momentarily obscured the grey shaft of morning at the 
window, then returned to blanket it completely. The two women locked in the 
awakening throes of passion failed to notice the changing pattern of light. 

Scott's kid sister Betty had been crossing the tiny flag-stoned patio 
outside of Janet's room when her eye was caught by the gleam of inner light. 
Her ripe teenage curves flagrantly accented by a minute bikini, she was on 
her way to the backyard pool of the house next door. She turned back to the 
window to see if her sister-in-law was awake. Her hand froze in mid-air in 
the act of tapping on the glass as she got a clear view of the wide bed. 

Spotlighted in the rosy illumination of the tall bedside lamp, the nude 
bodies of Jan and Heidi presented an erotic tableau. 

The young girl pressed her nose against the pane and viewed the lovers' 
passionate embrace with avid eyes. She found it difficult to breath as a 
thrill of excitement tingled down her spine. Her legs turned to rubber and 
she leaned against the cool glass. Holy cow, she gasped! If my goody-goody 
brother could only see his new bride now! To her way of thinking her older 
brother was what she considered to be 'a real square'. When one of her chums 
had raved over his rugged good looks Betty had declared with disgust that he 
probably wouldn't even say shit if he had a mouthful. Her own abnormally 
carnal lust had somehow sensed Scott's shyly introverted sexual nature. It 
was true that he'd been a virginal groom, afraid to venture beyond inept 
fumblings during his and Janet's long courtship. Even after their marriage 
he strove to suppress what his puritanical upbringing had let him to believe 
sexually debasing. 

Betty had been born with a hunger that no amount of parental strictness 
could lay to rest; an insatiable, helpless yearning that stretched to 
infinity. It gnawed at her loins as she watched the quickening tempo of 
passion within Janet's room and her tight little buttocks gave an 
unconscious wriggle of joy. 

Heidi's yellow head moved to the pulse-beat in Jan's throat and her fingers 
began stroking and kneading at the pointed nipples of her breasts. The twin 
peaks expanded visibly and darkened to a deep crimson hue in the rosy 
circles that spread like opening flower petals. 

As Jan's hands went to the pendulous globes of Heidi's breast Betty thrust 
her hips against the low window sill and shoved hard against the mounting 
pressure in her pelvis. 

"What in hell are you doing?" 

She jumped back as though she'd been burned and collided with the muscular 
male body behind her. "Oh, Bud, you scared me half to death," she whispered. 
"Shhhhh... be quiet or they'll hear us!" 

"Who will... " his words dwindled to a sharply indrawn breath as his eyes 
focused over Betty's head into the beam of soft light. 

Bud was her newest conquest, the eighteen year old son of Jan's neighbors. 
Growing tired of waiting for her to keep their date for a morning swim, he'd 
come wandering across the lawn to see what was delaying the girl. 

"Sweet Jesus Christ!" Bud's eyes widened in shocked horror. Janet's body was 
twisting and writhing on the bed as Heidi's mouth fastened hungrily to the 
tip of one up-thrust breast. He could see her mouth opening and closing on 
the extended nipple, the roseate glowing moistly as her tongue darted out in 
licking circles. 

"C... common, Betty! We shouldn't be watching them like this!" But he seemed 
to be rooted to the spot and his throat worked convulsively. 

"Don't be silly," Betty hissed, her gaze riveted on the spot between Jan's 
thighs. As Heidi sucked at her breasts Jan's legs had jerked upward, and 
they splayed outward from her hips revealing the burnished tangle of auburn 
pubic down. 

"See how wet she is!" Jan's distended cunt slit was a throbbing pink wound 
in the dark frame of wet pubic curls. Dew-drops of moisture glistened like 
diamond dust on the fleshy folds of her vaginal lips. Her pelvis thrust 
upward, writhing in the air as her heels dug into the mattress. The firm 
globes of her buttocks bounced and jiggled on the bed as her hips worked up 
and down with an undulating rhythm. 

"Oh, God," Bud moaned. He tightened his arms around Betty's waist, one hand 
kneading the twitching muscles of her stomach, the other sliding teasingly 
into the low band of the bottom of her bikini. 

His protruding nerve-centered penis struggled against the constraining 
crotch of his tight trunks and beat a wildly exciting tattoo back on the 
swell of Betty's bare buttocks. She reached back with one hand and forced 
the swollen shaft free from his brief trunks, and stretched upward on her 
toes. As he bent his knees and scooted down behind her, she pulled his penis 
under the elastic leg band and into the soft furry warmth between her legs. 
Her fingers caressed the blood-pressured head protruding rigidly from 
between the tight grasp of her thighs. 

Jan's young sister-in-law began to move her hips back and forth. She could 
feel the lips of her cunt expand and suck wetly at the stiff rod as she 
rubbed herself against it, and she ground down with all of her strength. 

"Ooooh, look," her voice was a hoarse whisper of delight, "I've got my own 
fat little cock to play with." 

She massaged the out-thrust swollen bulb in gentle circles with her palm and 
the oozing gland laved her hand with warm, white liquid. 

Bud's reply was a muffled groan in her ear and his eyes stared in fixed 
fascination into the bedroom. Heidi's head was a brassy blur bobbing at 
Jan's red pubic triangle as her pointed tongue darted in long, swiping licks 
at the flushed, straining nether lips hidden beneath it. He trembled at the 
hot, moist grasp of Betty's demanding cunt on his cock, and he felt like 
cumming in her teasing little hand though he had a big hard-on a sudden urge 
to urinate swept through his genitals. 

"Shit!" He reluctantly tore himself away from Betty and the tantalizing 
bedroom scene. "I gotta piss," he groaned, trying to control his waving cock 
with both hands. 

"Come on, over here in back of the bushes...!" Betty was already 
half-running before him to a shoulder high hedge that swept from a wing of 
the house in a screening half-circle. Her fingers were working with the 
straps of her bikini as she bounded across the lawn like a bronzed gazelle 
suddenly imbued with life. She'd stripped off the scraps of gaily flowered 
latex and lay panting on the dew-drenched grass by the time Bud stood 
spread-legged in the tall shelter of foliage. 

He faced away from her, his knit trunks bunched in a tight roll beneath his 
buttocks. The lean twitching haunches were stark white globes bisecting the 
deep tan of his upper torso and legs. The splattering spurt of his golden 
urinal stream as it pounded into the crisp leaves was a strangely erotic 
stimulus that stirred Betty with a mounting excitement. 

"Hurry up, Buddy," she urged in a voice heavy with passion. "I'm getting so 
hot I can't stand it!" 

As the splashing sound dwindled and finally stopped, Bud's cock deflated and 
it hung down with his balls as he came up to Betty. He knelt on the grass 
with one knee between her legs, and it began to rise again and stiffen and 
expand. It rose to a full erection, sticking out from his groin, swaying 
teasingly above her face. The skin stretched taut on the rigid underbelly of 
the bloated cudgel in a faintly puckered seam and a tiny spittle of urine 
and semen fell like a salty tear on her lower lip. Her tongue flicked out, a 
red demon's tail slashing at the pungent drop as her hands grabbed wildly at 
his cock. Her palms were hot and slippery on the hard stem as she guided it 
like a club to her ravenous mouth. It throbbed between her furiously sucking 
lips with hard, jerking thumps. 

"I'm going to cum," Bud gasped. 

Betty pushed him away with a hard shove. "Don't you dare cum," she howled, 
"I'm not ready yet!" 

As he sank back on his haunches his swollen penis slithered wetly across her 
heaving breasts, snaked down her flat belly and came to rest with its 
blood-filled tip pressed to her inflamed vulva. She thrust upward with a 
violent push. The pulsing glans-tip barely grazed the tiny erection of her 
clitoris when her body lunged in one tremendous, spasmodic jerk and it was 
over. Yet only beginning. 

A little cry of triumph escaped her. "Oh, God!" 

"For chrissakes, Betty!" He shook uncontrollably on the verge of orgasm. 

"Wait... I want to get on top of you," she said. 

Bud rolled over on his back and she knelt astride him. "Hold still a 
minute," he commanded between clenched teeth. 

His cock slapped hard against his stomach and he lay struggling for control. 
His balls ached with the pressure pounding relentlessly from within, 
pleasure turned to pain. Betty quivered with impatient desire, then quickly 
took his cock in her hand and slipped its head through the wet softness of 
her young, sparse pubic hair. She pulled it into her body with the 
contracting muscles of her vagina until all of it was sucked up deep inside 
of her. 

His hands went to her breasts and fondled the jiggling globes as she began 
to move her hips back and forth with an easy, swaying rhythm. He felt the 
heat of her cunt on his agonized penis and the strong pull of its grip once 
more induced a surge of sperm in his balls. He took her hips in his hands 
and tried to move them faster. 

"No... no... not yet! Please," she begged, "Not so soon!" 

She changed her back and forth motion, rotating her hips in a grinding 
circle, working his cock like a mortar in a pestle. He groaned, trying not 
to cum. Jesus, Bud thought, my cock won't last out the summer with this babe 
around! The walls of her vagina were a soft, wet wall of liver-flesh 
clasping hungrily around his hardened, tormented flesh. 

"If... you... keep... that... up," he panted, "I can't help cumming!" 

"Hang on honey, just a little longer," she pleaded. She began to move 
straight up and down using her knees for leverage instead of her hips. She 
could feel him swelling, throbbing, pulsing inside of her, a second heart 
beating incessantly, pumping her life's blood through her veins. Oh dear 
God, an inner voice pleaded in silent desperation, please... please... let 
it be now... let everything be all right this time and fill me forever, 
never make me go hungry again. Oh, please! 

Her fingers clenched fiercely at his shoulders, the sharp nails tearing at 
his skin. Out of control now, she bounced wildly up and down, riding his 
cock as if she rode the pommel of a saddle. Bud. cried aloud and dug his 
hands into the grass, pulling it up by the roots from the damp earth. 

The boy could stand it no longer and his hips rose and fell with her 
bouncing body. Her cunt clutched desperately at him and with renewed control 
he rammed" his cock into her with pounding strokes while pleasure surged 
through his body like ocean waves rolling up a beach. 

"Ohhhh, yes... yes... yes... yes... " A mindless chant rolled endlessly from 
Betty's lips. 

She urged him to help her move faster, harder, and he pumped with long 
strokes, pulling his cock out to the head and driving it back in again up to 
his balls. Then through the roaring in his ears he heard her sobbing, 
laughing shrieks of joy. He felt the hot flesh grasping his cock burst into 
a torrent of raging convulsions. The deep well of her womb overflowed, 
washing over him, drowning him in a rushing flood of liquid fire. 

He heard a shrill cry of sweet agony howl from his throat. He was cumming 
now! His penis gave a final lunge in the cauldron of her body and his whole 
being strained as his cock exploded in a long, high, screaming pitch of 
ecstasy. His sperm was a soaring starburst up and up into the never-ending 
heavens. 

His body collapsed beneath her on the mangled turf, jerking spasmodically. 
Betty sat impaled on his slowly deflating manhood, her cunt quivering yet in 
deep, orgasmic gasps. 

She ground desperately against his softening, emptying muscle as her 
swirling reflexes demanded, begged for more. But the now impotent answer to 
her eternal need withered and died within her. 

"Hey," Bud's tone was peevish. "Pile off will ya! You're screwing my balls 
right into the ground." 

Had his eyes been open he would have seen a look of pure hatred that blazed 
from Betty's face. It took only a twisting motion of her hips to allow his 
passion-drained penis to slide with a slight wet pop from the still nibbling 
lips of her cunt. She scrambled to her feet and ran to the rear of the 
house, picking up her bikini along the way. The late morning sun thrust a 
tentative ray of warmth through the trees to lap at the dew- misted lawn, 
but the running figure shivered as though from any icy blast. 

The low laugh that came from her throat sounded strangely like a sob as 
Betty called back to him. "Last one in the pool is a rotten egg!" 

 CHAPTER FIVE 

Janet was ordinarily the quick-shower-before-dressing type of female. She 
had never felt any desire to indulge in the narcissistic contemplation of 
her body found by many girls and women to be a source of pleasure, an ego or 
morale building practice. Though she was naturally aware that she had 
well-proportioned curves in all the right places. For this she was grateful 
because her figure was an asset to her clothes, instead of the other way 
around as happened more often than not. She'd been in love with Scott ever 
since she was twelve, at which time he'd considered her nothing more than a 
tom-boy playmate and quite frequently a nuisance. As she'd grown up into 
lovely, ripe-breasted young womanhood (which, thankfully, Scott eventually 
noticed) Jan was proud that he found her body beautiful. Further than that 
she hadn't much ventured to consider it. 

But late Sunday afternoon as she waited for the tub to fill she studied her 
nakedness reflected in the full length mirror with an appraising, almost 
clinical eye. How strange, she thought, how truly amazing that the tall, 
shapely redhead returning her stare with a candid violet gaze bore no 
outward mark of emotional or physical change. She leaned forward to wipe 
away the gathering film of steamy moisture, scrutinizing her face as though 
she expected to find the scarlet letter of adultery branded on her brow. But 
the smooth skin was unflawed except for the despised sprinkle of freckles 
still dusting her nose. 

She outlined the familiar curve of hip and waist with her hands. As her 
fingertips brushed the firm swell of pointed breast flesh she couldn't 
repress a thrill of pleasure despite the flush of shame that glowed back 
from the fogged glass. Suddenly the image in the mirror turned into an 
unknown stranger whose pansy eyes were clouded with uncertainty and doubt. 
The voluptuous ivory figure shimmered with a sensuous glow through the 
ethereal mist of whirling steam. As trembling hands cupped the full round 
breasts, the rosy nipples thrust in swelling supplication from growing 
circles of blushing pink. 

Jan stood as one in a dream, a heavy sensation rising within her in tune 
with the moist vapor rising in the room, staring transfixed in the mirror 
until the wavering reflection blurred and vanished in a misty film. With a 
guilty start she turned and plunged one foot into the tub. 

"Oooooo... Damn!" The almost scalding water served to bring her to her 
senses with a bang. A rush of self-disgust tormented her as she ran the cold 
water and finally stretched out in a soothing cloud of fragrant foam. 

What in the name of all that's holy has come over me, she wondered? She'd 
been acting like a sixteen-year-old kid who'd never been kissed, instead of 
like a married woman. At least, she amended, like a married woman should. 
Lord knows there had been plenty of girls in college who thought nothing of 
amusing each other sexually, but the very idea of doing such a thing simply 
never appealed to her. 

Before their marriage she and Scott hadn't indulged in what she'd call 
really making out. 

She smiled to herself as she remembered the one time her mother had, with 
great embarrassment, attempted to explain the dangers of what she termed 
"heavy necking." 

Mom needn't have worried, she thought wryly, for Scott had treated her 
almost like a kid sister until they were married. Perhaps it was because 
they'd grown up together, took each other too much for granted. 

Although marriage hadn't changed this a great deal, she thought now. Her 
mind flitted to the unrestrained display of sex last night. Good God, how 
would Scott have reacted to that? He wouldn't even attempt to make love with 
the light on, and certainly not anywhere but in bed! Not that a public orgy 
was by any means a true or desirable setting of connubial bliss, but she was 
beginning to realize the extent of Scott's inhibitions and inexperience. 
Mine, too, I guess, she admitted to herself. 

Of course they hadn't lived together very long, but she knew that many times 
he'd entered her when he'd gotten her excited... but he had done not quite 
enough. She'd be almost on the verge of orgasm when he would ejaculate 
within her after a few strokes of his penis. He'd withdraw leaving her in a 
helpless turmoil, so charged up that it was hard for her to get to sleep. 

Scott and I have been missing something that could be truly wonderful, she 
thought and ached with a sharp pang of longing for him. Oh dearest, I can 
teach you so much when you come home! After all the things that Heidi... and 
Val... 

Jan's buttocks squirmed on the slippery tile as a rush of heat spread 
through her body. 

She shivered in the cooling water. A vicarious thrill stabbed at her loins 
with the unbidden memory of Heidi's tongue thrust deep in her cunt and the 
feel of Val's swollen penis in her hand. She got out of the tub and toweled 
her recalcitrant flesh dry with a flurry or harsh, punishing strokes. 

Try as she might Jan couldn't ignore the upheaval of passion that had 
possessed her so completely during Heidi's ardent love making. It nagged at 
her mind as she dressed for work and applied her make-up with shaky fingers. 
Self-guilt tormented her but she attempted to defend her actions. She'd been 
lonely and hungry for Scott's arms around her. Hadn't most of the girls 
she'd known in school experimented with each others bodies in search of 
illicit excitement? She'd simply never been drawn into that kind of a 
situation before. Now, having been married... and with her husband gone for 
so long... the natural demands of her young body... and besides she'd had 
far too much to drink! 

The true cause of her anxiety she subconsciously buried - the traumatic 
awakening of uncontrollable sensual desire and delight. The hidden sleeping 
tiger that had been stirred "by Scott's inept touch had suddenly sprung to 
roaring, lusting life under Heidi's skillful, urgent prodding. Fired by the 
stimulus of the aphrodisiac and Heidi's passion, Jan's dormant desires had 
burst forth. 

What really troubled Jan was not so much what she had done, but her strange 
reaction and heightened sense of sexual enjoyment. As Heidi would have 
dredged up from her bottomless well of bromides, "It ain't what you do, it's 
the way that you do it." 

As she drove to the Inn, Janet continued to search for a justifiable excuse, 
one that would make her guilt easier to live with. Her thoughts pounced on a 
theory discussed by her psychology professor in college. It concerned what 
he'd termed "the sooner time". The idea related to the concept that sooner 
or later in life most of us are forced to face certain new realities. She'd 
found the thought strangely fascinating and grasped at this saving straw in 
the affair with Heidi. She concluded it had been a "sooner time", and 
finding a label helped to salve her nagging conscience. 

But no tag could be attached to Jan's feelings towards Val Wexler. There was 
simply no way to rationalize the irrational. Her thoughts turned reluctantly 
to the scene at the Inn. 

Much of the night was indistinct in her memory, a kaleidoscopic pattern of 
discordant sounds, writhing bodies, and her own inner tumult. She felt as 
though she'd stumbled blindly through a difficult terrain on a strange 
journey. One thing emerged with a fearful clarity, a forbidden magic that 
would haunt her forever. The flame that had consumed her with Val's 
caresses, the sensation of his hot, throbbing penis growing in her grasp, 
the image of his aroused desire; all formed an erotic vision etched on the 
retina of her mind. 

It was after six by the time Jan parked her little car at the rear of the 
huge lot. Although she was going to be a few minutes late she approached the 
Inn with lagging steps. On first awakening that afternoon she'd been 
relieved to find Heidi gone, then fearful about confronting her at work. 
After trying to reason things out, her feelings were now those of shyness 
and hesitation about facing her fellow workers. Yet somehow she felt a sense 
of committal, that she was no longer an interloper. 

Jan entered the formidable expanse of gleaming tile and shining stainless 
steel, resembling a lab- oratory more than a kitchen, with mixed emotions. 
She had the odd sensation of returning to the fold, while balancing on the 
threshold of an ominous crossroads. 

She needn't have worried about her reception for everyone carried on with 
their duties as though nothing unusual had occurred. Heidi greeted Jan with 
a cheerful "How's your head, hon?" in an offhand manner, and Marge was 
equally casual. Too early for the dinner crowd, most of the men waiters were 
putting the finishing touches on their stations, their usual ribald banter 
interspersed with remarks about having had a ball last night and complaints 
about big heads and hangovers. Jan seemed to sense a more relaxed 
friendliness in their attitude towards her, but she thought perhaps it was 
merely a reflection of her own new feeling of acceptance. 

The atmosphere was so banal, so ordinary - uncharged with the tension she'd 
feared, that she had the detached sensation the party had been only a weird 
fantasy, an erotic figment of her imagination. 

It was close to midnight when she was jarred back to reality by the entrance 
of Val Wexler with a small party. For one crazy moment Jan had the feeling 
of being trapped and panic touched her eyes as she turned to the bar. 

"Take it easy, Jan." The bartender looked at the obviously upset girl with 
concern. Her hand gripped the edge of the bar so tightly the knuckles 
whitened, and he enfolded it in a comforting grasp. He had been one of the 
few who'd witnessed Jan and Val's torrid embrace, as Marge's performance had 
been the lewd center of attraction. This poor kid, he thought, she sure as 
hell is no match for that bastard. He'll chew her up and throw what's left 
back to the sharks. He sought for some word of warning but could come up 
with nothing that wouldn't embarrass her. 

"Don't let the gang around here bother you, things get kinda out of hand 
once in a while," he said lamely, cursing his inability to help for he felt 
truly sorry for Jan's visible discomfort. 

"Thanks, Jack," her smile was wryly grateful for his comforting attempt. 

And thank God, Jan breathed with a sigh of relief, Margie's seated them at 
one of Heidi's tables! As she served her station she studiously averted her 
eyes from Val's group. When they'd come in she had been attracted by the 
smart semi-formal attire of the fashionably coiffured women, and she 
suffered an irrational twinge of envy at their aura of relaxed enjoyment. 
The laughing party stayed for only a short while and strangely Jan 
experienced a perverse pang of disappointment as she caught a glimpse of 
Val's virile retreating figure. 

The bar was just closing and she was emptying the last ashtray when Jan felt 
a strong hand grasp her arm. She looked up straight into Val's eyes and a 
rush of color suffused her fair skin. The breath caught in her throat with a 
choked gasp. 

"I thought you'd gone!" She could have bitten off her unruly tongue as the 
words came tumbling out. 

"I came back." His eyes were coolly appraising but his smile was friendly. 

"Obviously," Jan forced herself to a lightness she was far from feeling. 

"I saw you trying to hide like a frightened rabbit when we came in earlier." 
Her anxious confusion was so evident that Val relaxed his grip on her arm 
and his eyes grew warmer. 

"Janet, I had to return and tell you how very sorry I am. I owe you an 
apology for behaving like such a heel and not taking better care of you last 
night." 

If any double entendre was intended it was lost on Jan as she stammered, 
"Please, Val, can... can't we just forget it?" his light touch on her bare 
flesh sent a shiver up her spine. 

"Consider it forgotten, but I can't have you looking terrified every time 
you see me because of an unfortunate, stupid experience. Come and have 
breakfast with me and I'll prove I'm really not such an ogre." 

Jan hesitated and Val's lips curled in the impish grin she found so much 
like a small boy's. 

"Please...?" he urged. 

"But it's so late," she protested inanely, then had to laugh as Val reminded 
her it was really a trifle early for breakfast. 

"There's no reason to be afraid," he said softly. "I assure you that I have 
no intention of leaping on you and ravishing you like some wild animal. Your 
wish is my command, believe me." 

There were banked fires at the back of his eyes. now, and Jan's eyes widened 
as they met the flames in his. She felt a moment of panic as she had a 
blazing memory of what it had been like to be held in his arms, and her 
heart skipped a beat. 

Before Jan could muster any words of refusal, as she knew she should, Val 
said he'd better leave before Jack threw him out, and he would wait for her 
by the door. 

It was only a short drive to a restaurant that was the gathering spot of the 
night-owl crowd. 

Val talked lightly of the comedy he'd seen that evening at the Playhouse, 
and Jan's uncertainty faded as he made a special effort to be agreeably 
amusing. 

The cafe was a brightly lighted oasis filled with a noisy crowd winding up 
the night. It bubbled with such an air of gaiety and lack of intimacy that 
Jan was chatting with Val like they were old friends by the time they sat 
relaxed over refilled coffee cups. Without her realizing what he was doing 
Val led her on to talk, although he carefully steered the conversation away 
from Scott. He had already found out all he needed to know about Jan's 
husband from Marge. 

The more he listened to Jan's guileless rambling, the more she intrigued 
him. As he watched the sensuous curve of her full mouth and the rising swell 
of her breasts, the bright lights camouflaged the desire in his eyes. 

"Oh Christ," Val interrupted himself in the middle of a sentence with a low 
groan. "Let's hope she doesn't spot us!" 

"Who. .?" Jan asked, startled at the sound of his voice. 

"Jack and Donna just came in, and she looks sloshed as usual." 

It dawned on Janet he was speaking of her boss, Jack Quillan, and his wife, 
Donna. She'd seen Donna across the room at the Inn and at first glance 
thought she was Marge for they were built on the same tall, voluptuous 
lines. Val had slumped in the corner of the booth but he was too late for a 
husky, feminine voice drawled at Jan's shoulder "Val, darlin', how've you 
been?" 

The words were just faintly slurred, but it was evident from the woman's 
swaying stance that she was quite drunk. The lovely plains of her flushed 
face had a smeared, unfinished look, blurred from the effect of too many 
drinks over too many years. Donna Quillan was still very beautiful, but she 
presented the illusion of an exquisite, bigger-than-life wax doll that has 
been left too long in the sun; its features slowly starting to mingle, its 
body beginning to overflow at the seams. 

Donna was already wedging herself into the booth at Jan's side as Val 
muttered an invitation to join them. She brushed over the introduction to 
Jan with a bare nod, but Jan was conscious of her appraising stare though 
she went on talking to Val. 

"Where's Carol been hiding herself? I haven't seen her or those two handsome 
young bucks of yours in ages." The malice in her tone was unmistakable. 

"I don't see too much of them myself these days." Val's voice had an icy 
chill. "The boys are away at school you know. The last I heard from Carol 
she was enroute from New York to Miami." 

Jack Quillan had been trying to interrupt and finally raised his voice in 
some mention of business to Val. The harsh glance he shot his wife was far 
colder than Val's tone had been, and Jan felt a surge of pity for Donna 
despite her deliberate rudeness At least it had the desired effect of 
freezing Donna's tongue for without a word she struggled to her feet and 
wove an uneven path to the ladies' room. 

She was gone for so long that Jan grew concerned. Jack was recounting a long 
involved story to Val so she excused herself and slipped away. She found 
Jack's wife slumped rather dejectedly in a small make-up alcove, staring 
vacantly in the mirror. Her expression brightened somewhat as her glazed 
eyes focused on Jan's approaching figure. 

"Are you all right, Mrs. Quillan? You're husband was getting worried... " 
Jan hoped the lie sounded convincing. 

"So you're Jack's newest lil playmate at the gym?" Her words slurred and Jan 
took it for granted she'd said 'inn'. "Mean big... big and young. Jus' the 
way he likes 'em. Big boobs, big twat... right, honey?" 

Jan could hardly believe her ears. The woman appeared to be far more 
intoxicated than when she'd left the booth. Then Jan saw the glint of a 
silver flask in the jumble of cosmetics spilling from her purse on the 
shelf. So that's what she'd been doing in here so long, just sitting there 
getting smashed! 

"Please, Mrs. Quillan, you don't know what you're saying. I hardly know your 
husband. 

Come on back to the table, Val and I... " 

"Oh, it's Val too, is it? What're you after _. . his cock or his money?" She 
laughed hysterically. "His cock comes pretty cheap, but don't kid yourself, 
honey, that's all you're fuckin' well goin' to get!" 

Jan's face flamed and she was about to turn on her heel and escape from 
Donna's guttural stream of words when the woman buried her face in her hands 
and burst into sobs. She hesitated, not sure what to do, and put a tentative 
hand on her heaving shoulder. 

"Mrs. Quillan, don't... please. Do you want me to get your husband?" 

Donna lifted her tortured face, looking somehow younger, more vulnerable 
despite the mottled wash of cosmetics smearing her cheeks. The blurred 
tearful gaze that stared at Jan from the mirror was so distraught she once 
more felt sorry for her. 

"Oh, no, don't do that! Just stay with me for a few minutes." Her eyes 
darkened and glittered through the drying tears. She was taking deep, 
gulping breaths and seemed trying to compose her agitation. 

"I'm sorry for what I said really, I didn't mean it... drink too much. Was 
beautiful, jus' like you. Look!" With a desperate jerk Donna ripped the 
buttons from the bodice of her gown as she tore it open. Her breasts thrust 
free, exquisite mounds of pink-nippled flesh. 

Jan gasped and thought, oh lord, what if someone should come in here? Her 
hands flew automatically to the folds of Donna's dress to cover the woman's 
nakedness. She found them captured in bands of steel as with a quick 
movement Donna grabbed her and pressed Jan's fingers tightly against the 
protruding breasts. The firm swell of warm flesh in her hands sent an 
involuntary tremble of excitement up Jan's arms. 

"There, my breasts are still beautiful! Aren't they darlin'?" A prideful 
lust distorted Donna's slack mouthed features, and she rubbed the distended 
nipples in Jan's palms. 

Janet stood transfixed, held fast in the savage grip. Then for one so drunk 
Donna moved with the agility of a cat. Suddenly releasing Jan's hands she 
swiveled in a twisting whirl and sank her feverish face in the soft flesh of 
Jan's belly. Simultaneously her taloned fingers went under Jan's short 
costume to the waistband of her panties, tugging the silken mesh over her 
hips in a fluid motion. 

With a smothered groan Donna's mouth lowered to the exposed triangle of 
pubic down and nuzzlingly buried in the hair-lined cunt slit with an 
impassioned kiss. Sharp nails dug into the soft rounded globes of Jan's 
buttocks pressing her pelvic mound against the demanding mouth. Donna's 
seeking tongue shot into the fulcrum of her body, a lusting snake writhing 
in the sensitive flesh. 

Jan had become really frightened as Donna's fingers fumbled wildly under her 
skirt. 

Everything happened so rapidly and the pursed lips found their mark so 
quickly that she couldn't control the instantaneous reaction of her body. 
Her hips arched forward with the pull of Donna's hands on her buttocks as a 
wave of exquisite sensation swept over her. 

Almost, she let herself surrender to it. 

Even in the midst of liquid feeling, with a hot burst of moisture flooding 
her throbbing cunt, the lascivious proximity of the hungry mouth recalled 
her to her senses. Passion was overcome by guilt and the thrill was 
dissipated by a jolting shock of conscience. With a violent shove she 
managed to disentangle herself from the lusting tentacles of Donna's 
embrace. She backed away with a growing horror, rearranging her clothing 
with shaking hands. 

Donna's surprised gasp rose to a low, keening wail that echoed like a 
disgruntled banshee in the small room as Jan spun around and fled through 
the door. 

After they were seated in the car Val made no attempt to start the motor, 
but turned and leaned back on the door to face Jan. 

"All right now Janet, tell me what happened back there," he said quietly. 

Jan sat in an attitude of rigid attention, her eyes straight ahead staring 
fixedly into the dark void of the night. The tension in her body created an 
almost tangible crackle in the vacuum of enclosed space. Val reached to the 
dash and with a whisper of lowering glass the sharp tang of early morning 
air fanned Jan's feverish brow. She drew a deep breath and forced herself to 
speak. 

"What makes you think... ? She closed her eyes in an effort to block out the 
sight of Donna's shameless lust. 

"I don't think... I know damned well something happened. When you came back 
to the table you looked as though you'd just been face to face with the 
devil." 

"Nothing happened, really, Val." 

"You're a poor liar, Jan. What was it? Did that bitch make a pass at you?" 

Jan's eyes flew open with a hint of relief. "How would you know? Oh, Val, 
yes but not only that. She said such vile things!" Shame thickened her 
voice. 

He slid his arm around her, his fingers lightly patting her shoulder as one 
would comfort a lost child. Intuition warned him to tread softly. Just the 
nearness of Jan's tempting body caused a rush of desire pounding in his 
groin, and he flexed the muscles of his hips to ease the pressure of his 
penis swelling at his crotch. Much as he wanted this girl he was determined 
to wait until she surrendered to him willingly, when they could draw the 
full measure of passion from each other's bodies. That the time would come 
he hadn't the least doubt for Val Wexler made it a rule to acquire whatever 
he went after. 

"Try not to think about it, but I've got a fair notion of what they were." 
His voice was low and he succeeded in overlaying the husky note of desire 
with a consoling, almost fatherly tone. 

"But why should Mrs. Quillan attack me like that?" 

The renewed flush of fire to her face and the convulsive shiver that wracked 
her body told Val more than the muffled words Jan spoke from the comforting 
pillow of his shoulder. 

"She was crying at first, then she got hysterical and tried to... tried to 
kiss me, not on the mouth... but... ," Jan ended with a low moan. 

Goddamn that woman! Val cursed inwardly. A vivid picture in his mind of 
Donna's wet mouth seeking the tender folds of Jan's vaginal lips transmitted 
a surging rush of hot blood to his nerve-centered penis. As he felt his cock 
give an expanding lunge it was all he could do to control himself from 
unzipping his fly. Stop it you bastard, he commanded, and pinched his balls 
in such a tight press of his buttocks that a sharp jab of pain halted the 
growing erection. 

"Donna went after you my dear child, because you're all of the things she'd 
like to be. 

Because you're young, and lovely and unspoiled. She wasn't always the vixen 
she is now, you know. I can remember her as a real beauty when she and Jack 
were first married... Though I doubt that she was ever very pure in heart," 
Val ended dryly. 

He felt the tension gradually drain from Jan's body as he told a 
deliberately monotonous story of Donna's brief fame as a dancer before she'd 
met Jack and hinted that it wasn't entirely her fault that the marriage 
hadn't turned out well. 

"For that matter," he concluded with a sigh, "though you're much too young 
to have discovered it, and I hope you never do, marriage isn't always the 
happy ending the fairy tales promise." 

Jan sensed Val was speaking of himself (as he'd intended) and suddenly felt 
sorry for this man who outwardly appeared to have everything. She had a 
vague recollection of Marge's mentioning he was married but not working very 
hard at it. Poor Val, it must be the other way around for his wife to go 
traipsing off, leaving him alone so much. Nothing like that could ever 
happen to Scott and her when they were so in love, she mused. Val gave her a 
gentle hug and leaned over to start the car. She felt somehow forlorn away 
from the consoling warmth of his arm. How she missed Scott! 

"You haven't had things so easy lately yourself, have you, Janet?" His 
concerned question seemed to follow her thoughts. 

"Not really, I guess. I hate being alone... " she hesitated, for some reason 
feeling it would be disloyal to discuss her husband with Val. 

"Now that's not true, you have friends... we are friends aren't we? You 
wouldn't deny me the pleasure of your company, letting me take you out to 
show you off to bolster my aging ego. Now would you?" 

"Thank you, Val, that's very sweet of you. But there's so much else, other 
things that I can't help worrying about." 

Once started, with Val's skillful urging Janet found herself confiding in 
him about the problems of money, the lack of it for the house and the 
growing stack of bills. They were standing at her door before she realized 
the import of her words. 

"I'm so sorry," she gasped. "I've no right to tell you all my problems. And 
my car, it's at the Inn! I forgot all about it, I've been so busy crying on 
your shoulder!" 

Though 'crying' had been a figure of speech, without warning Jan found 
herself doing exactly that as Val's arms closed around her and she leaned 
into the shelter of his masculine strength. 

"Don't cry, baby, it's going to be all right." 

His words were soothing but she could feel the sudden tensing of his strong 
frame as his arms tightened their grasp. Against her will she clung to him 
as a mutual flame of desire welded their straining bodies in a passionate 
embrace. Her breasts caught fire and the taut nipples burned into his chest, 
her hips arched into his and the swelling pressure of his aroused penis 
prodded at her pelvis like a shaft of hot iron. 

Abruptly, panic shot through her like an icy draft penetrating a warm room 
and she wrenched herself from his embrace. Or had he pushed her from him? 
Jan couldn't be certain, their bodies had been pressed together as if 
magnetically pulled by some carnal witchcraft. With the release of the spell 
they were standing close to each other, but no longer touching. Then the 
tips of Val's fingers tilted her chin with a gentle touch and his warm mouth 
brushed her lips in a brief, almost shy caress. 

He was already striding down the walk as Jan turned blindly to the door. 

"I'll have your car sent around in the morning, Janet. And remember, don't 
worry. 

Everything will work itself out," he called over his shoulder in a low, 
matter-of-fact tone. 

The cold smile of satisfaction on his face was lost in the dark shadows of 
grey dawn. 

 CHAPTER SIX 

Janet had reached her bedroom with the feeling of coming into a safe harbor 
after an extremely-dangerous passage. She'd undressed hastily in the dark 
and crawled between the chill sheets of the vast, unfriendly bed too 
exhausted to even remove her make-up. 

But as soon as she'd closed her eyes she felt more wide awake than she could 
ever remember being. The episode in the ladies' room, Donna's obscene 
accusations, her pawing hands and hungry mouth formed a sickening picture in 
her mind. Tears of shame had come to her eyes at the thought of that 
instant's response of her body. 

That humiliating scene had been quickly crowded out by the bewildering 
question uppermost in Jan's thoughts. Why had she surrendered to Val's 
embrace with an emotion so unexpected and total, so overwhelmingly beyond 
her control? She seemed to have been mesmerized by some alien physical 
attraction to a man she wasn't quite sure she even liked, although he had 
been kind and understanding. There could never be anyone for her but Scott. 
Yet as consciousness faded Jan's tired body had shivered with the 
remembrance of Val's hard erection welded to the eager thrust of her aroused 
desire. 

She awoke at ten o'clock, almost as exhausted as when she'd gone to bed. 

Jack's Cabin Inn was closed on Mondays so this was her day off. Though that 
was such a fallacy that Jan groaned inwardly. When Scott was home, taking 
care of the lovely new house had been a joyful task. Now she seemed to be 
living in a void of increasingly meaningless drudgery. Resisting the 
temptation to try for another brief respite from her problems in sleep, she 
got up resolutely to tackle the week's build-up of household chores. 

In the filtered sunlight falling through the translucent bathroom window she 
studied her face in the mirror. Familiar, yet this day the face of a 
stranger. The amethyst-colored eyes stared back, their normal friendly 
clarity gone. 

They now looked bleakly hostile and bewildered. Otherwise, the face looked 
as always and she turned away quickly, full lips twisted slightly in 
self-contempt. 

Under the full blast of the shower her flesh quivered with the shock of the 
piercing merciless needles. The water at her back probed at the tiny 
fingernail scratches on her buttocks which stung like razor-cuts. She forced 
herself to stand straight and unflinching under the stabbing punishment. The 
pain was somehow satisfying. 

Betty came yawning and stretching into the kitchen as Jan was rinsing an 
accumulation of food encrusted dishes in the sink. She felt an unreasonable 
surge of anger that the kitchen was in such a mess. Why should she be 
cleaning up after Scott's sister when the girl had absolutely nothing to do? 
Immediately Jan regretted her anger, thinking her own disquiet was making 
her too critical. After all, Betty was only a kid. Though as she turned to 
stack the plates in the dishwasher she was momentarily startled at the way 
the teenagers mature curves spilled from her brief bikini. 

"Going swimming so early, Bets?" The choice of words was unfortunate, Jan 
discovered. 

"It's not all that early really. You got in pretty late didn't you?" Betty 
answered, hooding her eyelids in a curious way that was to become a familiar 
enigma. 

"Yes, I guess I did at that." The octopus of guilt in her chest clutched at 
Jan's heart. 

"You look pretty tired, Jan. Maybe you're trying to do too much." 

"Oh, the gang just went out for breakfast after work." 

Now why did I say that, Jan wondered as Betty slammed out the back door. 
What I do is my own business. I didn't have to tell that little snip 
anything, certainly not such a stupid lie. She banged the cupboard doors and 
all else that came to hand while restoring the kitchen to its normal 
pristine neatness. 

Jan attacked the other rooms with dust cloth and vacuum with grim 
determination, as if straightening up the house would clear the disorder 
from her mind. Disposing of the trash behind the garage she remembered Val's 
promise to take care of her car, and was thankful to find it in the drive. 
The hot afternoon sun on her back was a soothing balm on the tense jangle of 
nerves at the nape of her neck and she stared at the shining little machine 
with a new awareness. Funny she mused, how the power of money can perform 
pleasant favors so easily. The sound of young voices raised in spontaneous 
laughter mingled with frolicking splashes of water drifted across the 
neighboring hedge. A pained nostalgia pinched Jan's throat as she left the 
bright day for the shadows of the empty house. 

Her footsteps dragged with a new weariness while she gathered up the soiled 
linen and tackled the laundry. She was folding the last of the towels, warm 
and fluffy from the dryer, when the telephone and the doorbell rang almost 
simultaneously. 

"I'll get the phone!" Betty came bounding up the rear steps. 

So Jan let the phone ring and went to the door. It surprised her to see a 
delivery boy on the steps. She thanked him rather uncertainly for the long 
florist's box she found in her arms. Who in the world would be sending her 
flowers? The fellow was whistling down the walk before she could tell him 
there must be some mistake, and Betty was calling her to the phone. 

The ensuing ten or fifteen minutes left Jan in an agony of frustrated 
embarrassment. Val Wexler was on the other end of the line and Betty 
listened with rapt attention to Jan's side of the conversation, all the 
while exclaiming rapturously over his gift of three dozen long stemmed 
roses. 

His reason for calling, Val explained, was to make certain Jan's car had 
been sent round. 

She felt it would have been boorish not to thank him warmly for the car and 
the flowers, the card from which her young sister-in-law was waving in her 
face. When he urged her to have dinner with him Jan attempted to make her 
refusal impersonal and noncommittal. She grew increasingly uncomfortable at 
Betty's unabashed eavesdropping, realizing that most of what she said 
consisted of expressions of gratitude. "Thank you, yes (the car had been 
delivered)". "Thank you (for the roses, yellow to brighten her day - besides 
red would have been put to shame by her hair)." 

"Thank you, but I really can't (brighten his day in return by dining with 
him)." 

When Jan finally managed to terminate the conversation in a manner she hoped 
wasn't completely ungracious she knew her deep flush betrayed her guilty 
agitation. She was aware that against her better judgment she secretly would 
have enjoyed the luxury of having Val take her out to dinner. In trying to 
stave off Betty's effusive questions she found herself trapped in another 
lie, explaining that Val was an old friend of the family. Betty's piquant 
face wore a peculiar expression of insolent feline satisfaction. Damn it, 
Jan fumed, why should I allow her to always put me on the defensive? 

Betty had wandered off somewhere with the boy next door, so after eating a 
lonely, somewhat frugal meal Jan settled down to a task she'd been dreading. 
The comfortable den was a haven against the growing dusk. The profusion of 
yellow roses, a reminiscent reflection of sunshine in the lamp's glow, 
permeated the air with a heady perfume, but she halted in the act of pulling 
out a chair at the desk and transferred the crystal vase of fragrance to the 
living room. 

As she returned to the desk the lingering scent seemed to touch her spine 
with a funeral chill and she shivered in the warm evening breeze. Mentally 
and physically tired from lack of sleep and the nervous exertion of the day 
she began sorting through the pile of mail on the desk. A good many of the 
envelopes were still sealed. She hadn't bothered to open them as they were 
delivered, knowing they were notices of payments past due. The original 
please remit on statements and bills had intensified over the weeks to 
ominous 'if this isn't taken care of by' intimidation which she had 
postponed facing. 

One of the unfolded sheets was the last letter Jan had from Scott, a few 
lines scribbled on a scrap of notepaper. Several of the words were splotched 
and blurred by the tears that flowed as she'd searched for a hint of warmth 
and comfort between the rather prosaic lines. Unlike some timid souls who 
can pour out feelings on paper, Scott's natural reticence carried over to 
the written word. Torrid love letters were simply not his forte; he 
considered such displays of emotion rather in bad taste. Despite Jan's 
awareness of this and her knowledge that his love went far deeper than the 
superficiality of mere words, she longed for a tangible reassurance that 
wasn't forthcoming in Scott's meager letters. 

Her tired mind blundered into corridors of the past and Jan stared at the 
page until the lines were a meaningless blur before her eyes. She finally 
put Scott's letter aside and attacked the pile of bills with a forced burst 
of determination. 

After working in deep concentration over columns of figures for some time 
she threw down her pencil and slumped back with a groan of desperation. A 
dozen or more scratch sheets hen-tracked with a tangle of arithmetic lay 
scattered in with the bills. Her head throbbed and she closed her eyes to 
blot out the puzzle spread before her, a frustrating jigsaw of unmatchable 
pieces. No matter how she figured there simply was not enough money coming 
in to appease the baying creditors. 

The brittle peal of the telephone startled her from the depths of a blue 
funk. She lifted the receiver to the welcome sound of Marge's cheerful 
voice. Harry was out of town, Marge complained, and she was feeling down in 
the dumps. Wouldn't Jan please keep her company for a while? 

"Honestly, Marge, I'm too tired to be much of a companion to anybody 
tonight," Jan told her dispiritedly. 

"Then I know just the thing, hon. Meet me at the Inn and we can cheer each 
other up over a couple of drinks and relax those weary bones in the steam 
room." 

"But its closed, and besides - " The image of a dank basement wasn't very 
appealing. 

"Sure its closed," Marge swept Jan's beginning protest aside. "How else 
could we females use that inner sanctum downstairs? Don't worry, I've 
sneaked in there before and there's nothing like a steam bath to cure a 
hangover or take the kinks out." 

Jan knew Marge had a key to the club for she frequently locked up at night. 
Though it seemed somewhat dishonest for her to make use of it like this. Her 
eyes focused on the discouraging paperwork littering the desk and she was 
overcome by a desire to get out of the house. 

"Okay, Margie," she interrupted the urgent flow of words. "I'll meet you 
there in about twenty minutes." 

She put down the phone and with a twinge of guilt shuffled the bills and 
figures out of sight in a drawer. It was as she scrawled a note to Betty, 
saying merely she'd gone to the Inn with Marge, that the feeling of 
apprehension returned, and she dialed Marge's number to tell her she'd 
changed her mind. The line was busy and as Jan sat with a hesitant hand on 
the receiver the silence of the house weighed on her like an imprisonment. 
Oh, Lord, she wondered, what's the harm? Any slight diversion seemed 
preferable to facing the long evening alone with her thoughts, so she might 
as well go she decided. 

 CHAPTER SEVEN 

Marge was half hidden in the shadows at the front door of the Inn when Jan 
drove in the lot. The recessed entrance was a pool of darkness in the fast 
fading daylight and it lent a rather sinister illusion of furtive stealth to 
her superb figure. Jan parked the car a short distance away. As she 
approached the building a secret, sleeping animal instinct stirred a warning 
of danger in her mind, but it quickly died under the assault of Marge's 
outspoken greeting. 

A stairway leading down to the Athletic Club was directly inside the foyer, 
cleverly concealed by sliding doors that blended into the panelled walls 
thus making it virtually undetectable. Because of this proximity to the 
street the club members were able to come and go unobserved by the general 
public. 

Janet herself was astonished when Marge led the way down the thickly 
carpeted stairs. 

She'd been aware a service stairwell was located off the kitchen corridor 
but as that area wasn't her province she'd rarely seen it used. In fact, 
Jan's knowledge of the subterranean oasis consisted of little more than a 
vague impression it might be the scene of an occasional poker game rather 
than one of gymnastic effort. 

Therefore the picture that came to life when Marge flipped a switch at the 
bottom landing was almost unbelievable. Jan stood with one hand on the 
banister and stared in open-mouthed amazement at the incongruous setting 
bathed in a clear yellowish-amber glow. 

It was in actuality a sort of gymnasium, but more opulent than a Roman 
emperor's wildest dream. A rectangular swimming pool was an iridescent sea 
flowing the length of the room, a gently undulating rainbow in the play of 
varicolored underwater lights. A broad expanse of pale yellow, almost white 
carpet stretched like a golden border of sand from the pool's edge to the 
outer walls. These were hung with a silken sheen of softest blue, the 
heavenly blue of a cloudless horizon on a June morning. Lush tropical 
greenery sprouting from sunken planters completed the exotic illusion of 
some South Sea mirage shimmering in the desert sun. 

For long moments Jan stood motionless, lost in the impossible fantasy, but 
the spell was broken as her wandering gaze focused on scattered groups of 
modern gymnastic equipment. The hulking objects were obscene intrusions of 
gleaming chrome, polished brass and supple leather. Yet these too created an 
impression of Dali-like unreality. For even to Jan's untutored eye they took 
on strange, anachronistic shapes. 

The exercise machines loomed as mutilated merry-go-round stallions, headless 
padded horses arrested in mid-air, doomed to prance forever in legless 
suspension. In the wavering light the muted gleam of barbells, weights, 
dumb-bells, exercise rings and isometric bars had the medieval appearance of 
rack and screw. 

Marge's contralto laugh halted Jan's probing eye. "Isn't this wild?" she 
asked. "Just a few toys for the idle rich to play around with. Come on, 
let's have that drink." 

The bar on which she was leaning certainly bore no relation to the past. It 
jutted in futuristic angles from a mirrored wall by the stairwell with a 
brittle glitter of plexiglass and stainless steel. Transparent glass 
shelving protruding from the expanse of mirror held a myriad of liquor 
decanters and goblets. It created the illusion they were floating through 
space in reflected liquid hues that ranged from palest chartreuse to rich 
burgundy black. 

Jan climbed on a free form lucite stool that made her feel rather like an 
out-sized frog perched on a giant inverted mushroom and managed to find her 
voice. 

"But I thought there was just some sort of old steam or sauna room down 
here!" she exclaimed in bewildered amazement. 

"Oh, those are through the arch over there," Marge said with an airy wave of 
one arm. "Or would you rather take a dip in the pool?" 

"But I don't have a bathing suit." Jan took a deep swallow from the tall 
frosty glass Marge shoved across the bar and gasped for breath as the amber 
fluid burned down her throat. It was a mixture of fire and water but soon 
the initial sharpness fused into a radiating glow of warmth that enveloped 
her body. 

"Bathing suit! Good God, there's nobody here but me!" Marge laughed again 
but she gave the younger girl a long smoky look over the rim of her glass. 
After taking a long pull on her drink she added softly, "Then again, that's 
no guarantee of anything." 

Jan drained her glass to hide the peculiar sense of confusion Marge's husky 
tone had induced. As the fiery liquid intensified the spreading heat in her 
veins, the cool shimmer of water in the pool looked doubly inviting. I'm 
probably acting like a silly prude, she thought, and with a new lightness of 
spirit slipped from the high perch and removed her clothes with trembling 
fingers. 

Marge had already started to undress as Jan hesitated, and she straightened 
from gathering up her scattered garments to find the voluptuous blonde 
standing nude at the pool's edge. Testing the water with a tentative, 
slender foot, Marge cast a lazy, languid look over the pink marble slope of 
her shoulder. 

"Come on in, sugar, the water's fine." She walked down the steps into the 
shallow water until it lapped with teasing ripples at the golden triangle of 
her pubic hair. 

Jan unaccountably found herself becoming more excited with every passing 
moment. The glow of the drink Marge had poured was now a raging inferno of 
aroused desire that spread with unchecked fury through every fiber of her 
being. Burning tendrils of lust gripped savagely at her throat and she 
gasped for breath as a sudden weakness held her momentarily rooted to the 
spot. Her violet eyes misted over to a murky purple as they stared at the 
partially submerged Valkyrie in the pool. Then the haze cleared and strength 
surged back through her limbs as quickly as it had drained away. With a 
graceful, purposeful stride Janet walked lightly over to the golden sand in 
answer to the Siren's call. 

Halting on the top step, the tepid water was as icy fingers caressing her 
burning flesh. She looked down into Marge's uplifted face. 

"You have a beautiful body, Marge." Jan recognized the husky whisper as her 
own, but for an instant she felt strangely disembodied as though her mind 
hovered in space, a separate entity from the white pillar of molten flesh 
standing in the shallow wash. 

Then a sudden roar of passion filled her ears and she was once more whole as 
Marge fell to her knees on the step below and ran her hands slowly from the 
curve of Jan's ankles to the lush swell of her hips with firm, caressing 
strokes. A stream of quicksilver raced through Jan's body and swirled in her 
breasts until they ached with its heavy weight. 

She could feel her nipples hardening and swelling with an almost unbearable 
pain of pleasure. Scarcely aware of what she was doing her hands flew to her 
breasts and squeezed and kneaded the aching, swollen globes. 

"Don't, baby, let Margie do that for you. Just hang on to me and let me take 
care of you." 

Marge pulled Jan's hands to her shoulders, replacing their clutching grip on 
Jan's breasts with her own caressing fingers as she began covering the flat 
plain of Jan's belly with hot lip-nibbling kisses. 

"Oooooh... yes, Margie... yes!" The wet, teasing mouth seemed to penetrate 
into the depths of her womb and Jan felt a warm gush of moisture flow from 
within to drench the hungry furrow throbbing between her thighs. 

Marge's hands were an exquisite torture on her breasts and she pushed 
herself fiercely into the kneading palms. Looking down Jan watched the long 
pink nipples flush to a deep crimson and they thrust from between the 
strumming fingertips like tiny phallic twins. The erotic image of her own 
quivering flesh filled her with a strange delight. 

"Oh, God, I'm on fire!" she moaned. 

Marge's tongue was a darting flame in the tiny aperture of her navel and 
Jan's fingers clutched wildly at her hair, trying to press Marge's head down 
to her straining hips. She spread her legs wide and her pelvis began an 
undulating rhythm against the press of Marge's face. 

"Please, Marge... " 

"Mmm?" Marge's voice was muffled. "Wait, Jan... not yet," she murmured. 

She shifted her position slightly and her tongue slid downward and became 
entangled in the damp mass of pubic curls. She lapped savagely in Jan's 
distended cunt, then her mouth traveled quickly to the silken smoothness of 
Jan's thigh. Her tongue traced a wet pattern down the inner side of one leg 
then darted over to the other leg and licked slowly upward. 

Jan was almost sobbing now. The fire of lust within her raged out of control 
and her hips bucked wildly back and forth on legs stretched wide in 
trembling tension. 

"Now, please! Kiss me there... my cunt... now! Ohhhh...!" Her pleading voice 
spiraled to a demented pitch as her body writhed with demanding desire. She 
swayed and would have fallen if Marge's hands hadn't dug into the pulpy 
cheeks of her buttocks. 

Holding the soft globes in a firm grip, Marge buried her face in the 
drenched furrow of downy pubic hair and her mouth sucked thirstily at Jan's 
enflamed vaginal lips. She felt the moaning girl's entire body give a 
convulsive lunge as her tongue plunged deep in the yawning cunt slit, and 
the vaginal muscles tightened and grasped at the licking probe. 

Her tongue massaged the fleshy tunnel then darted a teasing lick at the tiny 
clitoral bud. It grew erect and quivering under her caress and her lips 
closed around the tumescent mound of flesh, sucking at it avidly. 

A continuous stream of mewling animal sounds poured from deep within Jan's 
throat as a towering wave of rapturous sensation engulfed her. Her tortured 
body was a gaping, lusting mouth ravenous for Marge's feeding lips. Her 
enraged cunt ground down to devour the succoring tongue which moved more 
rapidly now until it plunged in and out of the convulsing vaginal flesh like 
a viciously darting snake. 

Marge felt Jan's buttocks suddenly tense and the soft globes hardened to 
marble in her hands. Her prodding tongue was stilled in a tight, solid 
corridor of gripping flame. For a fiery moment she couldn't breath and it 
seemed as if her life's blood was being wrenched violently from her body up 
through her captive lips. 

Then abruptly the taut ass cheeks in her hands melted to a churning softness 
of quivering muscle. Her tongue was buffeted by rolling, heaving waves of 
spasmodically jerking flesh and a freshet of warm, sweet fluid flowed from 
above to quench the fire in her gasping throat. Her own arousal rose to meet 
the descending cloudburst of passion and she writhed with a tumult of 
nerve-racking tremors as she held Jan's convulsing body in her arms. 

For moments that seemed to last an eternity Janet fought to bring her 
seething mind and body down to some level of reality. Her thoughts spiraled 
in the circles of one lost and foundering in the terrifying void between 
nightmare and awakening. Eyes still fogged with passion she stared at the 
blur of blue sky and golden shore and they merged with the iridescent water 
into a shimmering kaleidoscopic whirl. 

Seated on the shallow steps of the pool she cupped the water coiling round 
her waist and let it trickle over her feverish body. Slowly her vision 
cleared. She heard what seemed to be at first a buzzing, whirring sound, 
then realized dimly it was Marge's voice speaking quietly somewhere in the 
room. And she wanted her, needed her! The sensual warmth that had been 
smoldering in Jan's body suddenly burst into a roaring flame of desire. Her 
hands ceased their idle splashing and cupped the heaving mounds of her 
breasts. 

Oh God, she cried out in an agony of shame from some inner recess of her 
mind, what's happened to me? Why am I doing this? This couldn't be happening 
to her, Janet White, Scott's wife - . 

And then intense passion consumed her and she followed it blindly. It was as 
if she had no mind of her own, no will. The brief prod of anguished remorse 
was trampled by a wild animal lust that left no space for rational thought 
or decision. 

Compulsively, without being aware of her actions she ran her hands over her 
breasts. Her fingers fondled the hard pointed nipples and merely touching 
them sent thrills of delicious pleasure coursing through her. She could feel 
a churning response deep inside and one hand slid beneath the water to the 
juncture between her thighs. It played in the soaked tendrils of pubic hair, 
then burrowed in the slippery cunt flesh where her own warm juices flowed 
and mingled with the cooler liquid of the pool. She extended her forefinger, 
stroking the clitoris gently. Reaction was instantaneous and she strained 
against her own crotch, pressing her fingers hard against the hungry wetness 
between her legs. 

Marge's breath caught in her throat and the hand holding the telephone 
receiver close to her ear trembled as she watched the mounting agitation of 
girl and water in the pool. Jan's white flesh had flushed to a rosy-beige 
glow of heated desire as she leaned back and braced her shoulders on the 
pool's rim, stretching her long, well-tapered legs before her. 

The heavy fullness of her breasts thrust upward to the kneading fingers that 
rubbed the crimson nipples to hard, swollen erection. Her hooded eyes stared 
wildly, unseeingly into space and a tiny stream of spittle drooled from the 
corner of her slack, sensual lips. Her head tossed furiously back and forth. 

As Marge watched the dew-dropped torso, Jan arched her hips and the mahogany 
thatch of her pubic mound protruded in the air. The fine tendrils of hair 
were a silken floss of tiny snakes floating in the roiling whirlpool of the 
girl's exploding fury. She could see Jan's distended vaginal lips emerging 
from the water-parted curls, opening and closing, grasping hungrily at the 
fingers rapidly plunging in and out of the pulsing hair-lined cunt slit. 

She almost let the phone slide from her desire-sweated fingers until the 
sound of an angry sputter crackling from the receiver forced her avid 
attention away from the flame-tressed Aphrodite helplessly writhing in a sea 
of lust. 

"Sorry, Jack. Yes, yes, I can hear you." Her voice was a husky whisper and 
she winced, holding the still vibrating instrument away from her ear. 

"I told you I gave it to her," she answered the garbled spate of noise 
coming from the other end of the line. "Don't worry, she's all primed... and 
how!" Marge's eyes wandered back to Jan's convulsing form. The girl was 
moaning now and the lower part of her body had slipped down out of sight. 
But her fingers were still caught in the vise-like grip of her cunt and her 
hand sawed wildly up and down in the churning water. 

"Dammit, she's ready!" Marge's tone rose to an excited pitch and the firm 
pendulous globes of her breasts rose and fell with her quickened breathing, 
the pointed nipples quivering in agitation. 

"All right, one more just to make sure... yes, I will," she insisted. 
"Yes... me too, but I'm so hot now I'm going out of my skull. Hurry up, you 
bastards! Five minutes!" 

She slammed down the telephone and turned to grope among bottles hidden in a 
recessed well of the bar. Sonofabitch, she thought, Jan's hotter than a 
firecracker already. 

Nevertheless she followed her boss's instructions and splashed generous 
portions of a faintly musky aphrodisiac liqueur into the tall glasses. 

Janet drained the glass Marge put in her hand in one long throat searing 
draught, instinctively trying to quench the fire burning in the furnace of 
her entire being, the blaze she'd tried in vain to tear out with her bare 
hands. She realized vaguely that the drink was fighting fire with fire. 
Wading deeper into the pool, the swirling foam eddied around her, tugging at 
her permissive flesh until she seemed to be struggling in a mire of cloying 
quicksand. The enveloping rush of water brought no relief from the heat 
consuming her. 

She finally managed to make her way back up the sloping bottom of the side 
of the pool. Clinging to the narrow marble rim at its edge she pressed the 
length of her body against the smooth tile of the restraining wall. The cool 
hard surface eased her fevered flesh and she strained against it fighting 
for control. Her hands and feet were icy, her body hot and trembling. Her 
eyes searched desperately as though seeking their way out of a mirrored 
maze, and at last succeeded in delineating the lines and angles of the 
modernistic bar. 

She felt she had crossed the threshold into some area beyond reality, a 
space in time where nothing existed except an inner world of physical 
sensation. A strange thrill of exultant anticipation possessed her as she 
turned to look in the direction of the sound of voices coming from the foot 
of the stairs. Several masculine figures wavered across her line of vision 
but she could recognize only the one advancing towards her. Oh no, she 
thought wildly, it's Jack Quillan, our boss! 

Her first impulse was the natural urge to cower beneath the water to hide 
her nakedness, and she felt a stab of horror that her body was powerless to 
obey it. Without volition her arms rested on the apron of the pool, spilling 
her magnificent breasts on the soft carpet in a pagan offering of 
blood-tipped white flesh. 

Jack stared with hot eyes at the full breasts palpitating at his feet. 
Dropping swiftly to one knee he cupped the heavy mounds in the palm of his 
hands with a hard, almost vicious grip. He tweaked the nipples with strong 
thumbs, running his fingernails over the tip until they lengthened and 
turned a deep vibrant crimson under the punishing pressure. 

The scream of pain that welled from deep in Jan's throat changed to a hoarse 
groan of passion as it escaped her lips. The harsh, scraping fingers on her 
throbbing nipples filled her with an exquisite pain that turned her loins to 
liquid fire. Raising one hand she ran it up his inner thigh, clawing at the 
corded muscles, struggling to reach the bulge at his crotch. 

"You're a hot little bitch, aren't you? Hornier than hell!" Jack stood up 
away from her clutching fingers, a lewd grin distorting his face. 

"Don't leave me... please," she whimpered. She gulped for air and rubbed her 
aching pelvis madly against the side of the pool. His cock! Her drugged 
brain screamed out with a deafening roar. I've got to have it, got to have 
his cock, got to have - went round and round in a demanding torrent through 
her head, drowning out the sound of his voice, eclipsing all else but her 
lustful, hurting need. 

"Just hang on baby, and we can ball all night." Jack slipped one hand into 
the waistband of his trousers to relieve the pressure of swollen flesh 
straining at the stretched material. 

"Oh, hell!" he muttered and unzipped the fly instead. As he went in search 
of a towel his fingers eased the expanding penis from his shorts and it was 
a tumescent wand waving before him. 

Janet felt herself being lifted from the water, then rough hands were 
working at her body. 

She could feel their pawing heat through the thickness of the soft towel 
that was a tantalizing itch scrubbing at her skin. She struggled wildly to 
rid her body of the imprisoning barrier, to be free to feel that hot flesh 
meeting hers. The illusion of foundering in the half world of a waking dream 
returned to her fogged mind. Or was it a dream? Scott, my love, my love - 
she struggled helplessly to grasp the image, to hold it. The memory, the 
reality was fading and once more she felt herself sinking without protest in 
a slow rising sea of unreality. Ah, no... all else was the dream. The 
reality is here, now, in this overwhelming, soaring exquisite sensation of 
lusting flesh on lusting flesh - Jan felt eager hands on her breasts, 
running over the curves of her thighs and buttocks. 

Finally freed from the smothering folds of cloth she found herself grasping 
at hard rods of burning flesh. With bewildered joy she looked down at the 
huge cudgels in her hands, massive swollen cocks, their blood filled heads 
throbbing wetly in her fingers. Her hips rotated from side to side as she 
struggled desperately to draw them both to the aroused triangle between her 
straining thighs. 

"Goddammit, you bastards! I told you I get her first!" 

A sharp blow on the side of her head sent Jan reeling backward and she 
tumbled in a panting heap on the thick carpet. Through swirling pinwheels of 
pain she saw ripples of naked flesh towering over her. As she grabbed wildly 
for a distended male organ, stabbing at nothingness in the air it was jerked 
rudely from her grasp and she cried out with frustration. She tried to get 
up from the floor and managed to struggle to a kneeling position but the 
heavy weight of desire in her loins was like molten lava. It burned its way 
downward through her vagina and surged through her legs, dragging her to her 
hands and knees, making it impossible for her to stand. 

"All right, you bitch, you want it so bad... come and get it!" The harsh 
command penetrated her lust like the crack of a whip. 

Sinewy fingers caught in the flowing mane of her hair and twisted savagely, 
forcing her head back. The cruel pressure sent tingling shock waves to her 
brain and her eyes glittered with an animal comprehension as the tortured 
girl stared at her tormentor's naked body. Her eyes traveled from the 
brutish lust on Jack Quillan's face to the bulging, almost womanly pectoral 
muscles of his chest over the pulpy paunch of his belly and down the mat of 
black curls that led from his navel to a dense growth of pubic hair. His 
penis hung down limply against the background of heavy, slightly swaying 
scrotum fuzzed with black down. Even in a state of soft suspension, the pale 
column of his cock was as large as many a phallus at the peak of erection. 

The mad light of desire in Jan's eyes clouded with a tinge of fear. Her 
tongue darted out to lick her full underlip and the muscles of her throat 
worked convulsively as she stared with hypnotic fascination at the monstrous 
penis. Oh God, even if it split her asunder she had to have it, had to feel 
that dormant muscle swelling, expanding, filling her aching womb with liquid 
life, putting out this fire that was burning her alive! With a tremendous 
wrench she tried to shake off her captor's grip, to spring at the fountain 
of desire like some wild creature devouring its prey. 

Jack's laugh was a guttural rasp in his throat. "Okay, cunt, come and get 
it," he repeated. 

"But crawl! Beg! You hear me?" 

His grip on her hair tightened, and it felt as though the taut tendrils were 
being yanked out by their roots. Then he released his hold with such an 
abrupt jerk that the folds of her scalp suctioned back to her skull in a 
snug cap of a thousand pricking needles. But the demented drive of lust 
consuming her was greater than any pain, any terror, any humiliation. Her 
crouched body swayed unsteadily, from side to side, breasts jiggling, 
shoulders and buttocks heaving, legs and arms shaking. The crown of chestnut 
hair cascaded down over her face, obscuring her vision and she shook it back 
with a violent jerk of her head. Then with disjointed, crablike motions she 
started to crawl across the floor in dog-like obedience. 

The man glanced back over his shoulder at the mound of lustrous flesh and 
muscle quivering to comply with his bidding and a lewd, sadist' ! grimace of 
satisfaction touched his face. He led the panting girl at his heels to a 
small room directly in back of the mirrored wall and peered for a moment 
into the reverse side of the mirror. The outer room wavered dimly through 
the glass, but at the flick of a switch the lighting gradually increased 
until the poolside area was illuminated with the brilliance of noon-day 
sunlight. 

By some trick of the two-way glass everything appeared to be larger than 
life. The shimmering body of water became an ocean swell lapping at the 
sandy beach, the green, potted fronds had grown to waving palms and the blue 
sky reflected a sun-white glare. 

The padded leather flanks of the decapitated steeds seemed flecked with a 
faint gleam of moisture, the film of exertion from a brisk canter in the 
sun. A group of naked figures lounging with arms entwined at the end of the 
bar seemed to hover so near that he had but to reach out his arm to touch 
the nude tableau. 

Janet was close on his heels, sobbing now, great heaving gasps that wracked 
her crouching form and she trembled from head to foot. Her fingers clawed at 
his legs and thighs as she fought to climb to her feet. Digging her hands in 
his but- tocks she managed to pull herself upright, her fingertips streaked 
with the blood her sharp nails had raked from his flesh. 

"You God damned fucking tramp!" With a sharp pistol crack his hand shot out 
and struck her violently across the mouth. 

She staggered backward and collapsed on a low couch, her head hitting the 
wall with a dull thud. Pain roared through her brain in a jagged vortex of 
streaked lightning. 

Momentarily, lust was blotted out by stark horror. I must be mad! The 
thought crossed her mind as an arrow of pain blinded her eyes, and the taste 
of blood was warm in her mouth. 

She bared her teeth with an agonized groan and opened her eyes. They were 
maniacal, glittering. 

Then his mouth was brushing the inside of her thigh, his shallow breathing 
hot on her flesh. She had to get up, to get away. She tossed her head and 
gulped great mouthfuls of air, but her body was frozen to his mouth, chained 
to his lips by invisible links of desire. 

Her brain whirled dizzily as though snapped of all reason by lust and fear. 

"Go ahead, take me! Fuck me!" The words tumbled from Jan's bruised lips. 
"Now... I'm begging you!" 

Jack straightened to his knees, searching her face with hard eyes. Her 
bruised lips were slack with passion. Pale ruby drops of saliva oozed from 
the corner of her mouth and strings of blood stained her teeth like 
lipstick. His hard eyes blurred with the flat, opaque blindness of lust, his 
mouth twisted with a lascivious leer. 

"All right, baby, it's all yours." 

He leaned over and slapped the full length of his erect penis on the flat 
plane of her stomach. For a split second Jan lay perfectly still and the 
muscles beneath the pulsing weight gave a convulsive lunge. Her entire body 
seemed to hold its breath, engulfed in overwhelming sensation. Her nipples 
stiffened to erect points and a rush of moisture soaked the cushion under 
her thighs. Every nerve end was a focal point of sensual desire. 

She reached out with both hands, grabbing at his shoulders to pull him to 
her. Arching her back and thrusting her hips upward she tried to twist her 
body against his, to bring his swollen cock to the straining lips of her 
cunt. 

His hands were on her breasts, kneading and squeezing the fleshy mounds. Jan 
could feel the excitement racing through her as he rolled the hardened 
nipples between thumb and forefinger with an almost brutal pressure. He 
covered her mouth powerfully, with his probing tongue a white heat 
cauterizing her bleeding flesh. Despite the pain her lips opened under his 
crushing kiss, receiving his tongue, sucking it deep into her throat. Her 
own tongue met and caressed and fenced with it with feverish thirst. 

One hand left her throbbing nipple-tip to roam over her body. It stroked her 
slim waist then travelled roughly over her hip and massaged the soft globe 
of her buttocks with strong sinewy fingers, kneading and pinching the fleshy 
ass-cheek until it felt raw with pain. The tormented muscles flexed 
spasmodically and her hips twisted and turned in a frantic effort to elude 
the nagging pincers. Her arched body allowed his prodding fingers to slide 
into the deep cleft between her squirming buttocks. They were gentle at 
first, caressing the sensitive crevice with long in and out stroking motions 
and she shivered with delight. 

She felt a strange, mounting excitement when his fingertips came to rest on 
the tiny quivering ring of her anus. He circled the puckered ridge lightly 
then quickly increased the pressure and the tight little opening expanded 
and contracted under his touch. When one finger jabbed into the sensitive 
flesh, a stab of pain sent a warning of fright up her spine and the muscles 
of her rectum fought to eject the hurting probe. 

Yet even as horrified shock registered in a corner of her mind, the passion 
in Jan's body was too strong to resist that instant of shattering pain when 
his finger plunged relentlessly into her tight, constricted anal passage. A 
shriek died in her throat and a wondrous sensation possessed her as it 
ripped into the tunnel of screaming flesh like a red hot poker. The muscles 
inside stretched to welcome the abrasive weapon and gripped tightly on his 
finger in aroused desire as it plunged in and out with a hard thrusting 
motion. 

Her hips began to undulate with a circling rhythm and drove down against his 
hand while her buttocks held it in a fierce grip. Pain and passion rose to 
an exquisite height and she bounced like a rutting animal on his skewering 
finger. Her hand sought and captured his rock-hard penis and guided it to 
her soaked cunt slit. She pressed it to the distended vaginal folds. As the 
bulbous blood-pressured head sucked wetly on the tiny inflamed mound jutting 
from the streaming nether-lips, the gathering climax in her body exploded 
like a thunder-clap. 

It roared through her in overlapping waves and she ground his finger into 
her body with wild abandon as she pulled savagely at his cock, trying to 
worm the monstrous shaft into the flowing mouth of her spasmodically 
throbbing cunt. 

As every muscle in Jan's body grew taut then began convulsing helplessly in 
his arms, Jack felt a violent surge of hot blood pounding through his 
swollen cock and a swift churning weight in his balls. His avid tongue 
sucked harder at her bruised lips, and the sweet warmth of her blood in his 
mouth seemed as one with the gush of her vaginal fluid on his hand between 
her jerking thighs. 

His own lust now raging out of control, he jerked his hand from the clutch 
of her writhing anus and bit down cruelly on the tender fold of her lower 
lip before thrusting her away with a violent shove. With a quick wriggle he 
scissored his legs around her hips and fell backward, laying spread-eagled 
on the couch. The rapid motion caused his elongated penis to slap back on 
his belly with a wet smack, then it bolted upright again in the air. It 
protruded from the black base of matted pubic hair like an ivory tower, the 
bulbous head a throbbing, crimson beacon that seemed to glow and pulse with 
an inner light. 

"Go ahead!" His snarling lips were flecked with red, the lust-blurred words 
barely human. 

"You want it so bad, take it, cunt!" 

Jan huddled in the angle of his outstretched legs, her body quaking with a 
paroxysm of unsatisfied orgasm. As she drew her knees to her chin and 
encircled her legs with her arms to control their shaking, he could see the 
spread of her distended cunt. The moist, hair-lined lips were opening and 
closing, gasping, grasping, at nothingness, as though seeking wildly for 
sustenance to appease their hunger. 

"You heard me! Suck it off!" His voice had sharpened to a whiplash command. 
"Put my cock in your fucking mouth!" 

The vulgar debasement of his tone was lost on Jan's sex-muddled brain. 
Before she was able to comprehend the meaning of his words he struck out 
swiftly, and his palm stung her cheek a flat jarring blow. The searing pain 
fanned the uncontrollable desires of her lust and her pent-up frustrations 
burst free. Moving with a blind senseless fury of sensation she bowed to his 
will. 

Her hands flew to his thighs and the hard muscles tensed then slowly relaxed 
under the fierce kneading of her fingers. With a grunt of pleasure he 
stretched his legs. Her flushed face was positioned directly above his erect 
penis. Like a tiny, lustrous pearl a droplet of seminal fluid oozed from the 
mouth of the blood-filled head. She examined the semen-glistening gland and 
a crazy desire exploded in her breast. 

A low whining moan bubbled from her throat and she bent down and pressed her 
lips to the moist, raw tip of his expanding cock. As her tongue darted out 
to lick at the bittersweet essence a violent shudder rippled through his 
body. She lapped wildly at the pulsing glans-tip and her nostrils flared at 
the sharp aroma of passion. Its piquant, salty taste fired her lust and like 
birds swept in a hurricane gale her hands fluttered to his heavy balls, 
kneading and stroking the sperm-laden sacs. 

The sensation acted as an electric shock on his prone body and his legs 
strained to enclose her in a vise-like grip. His breath came in wheezing, 
asthmatic gasps as he wriggled to a half-sitting position. Popping himself 
on an elbow he locked his eyes on her drug-induced abandon. 

The red hair spilling over Jan's shoulders gleamed in the dim light with an 
electric vibrance as if each individual lock were imbued with an exotic 
spark all its own. Her lovely face was filled with a vacant, self-absorbed 
abstraction, a flushed mask of lust that sharpened the delicate features. 
Passion-weighted lids hooded the violet eyes and the sprinkling of freckles 
had vanished in the deep surge of color. A diagonal, red-tinged swelling 
mottled one cheek. There was little to be found of Janet White except for a 
faint glimmering of horrified anguish locked in the depths of her 
lust-blinded eyes. 

Jack Quillan gloated over the countenance of a sharp-featured, gross, 
ravenous child. 

Momentarily a cruel satisfied contempt overshadowed his desire and his eyes 
flared with a ruthless, animal like triumph. His face changed and his eyes 
narrowed as he stared mesmerized at his penis. A smear of red from Jan's cut 
lip glowed on the stark white column like an open wound. His expression took 
on a look of carnal delight and he arched his hips to thrust his cock deeper 
into her mouth. 

"That's it, baby," his voice was thick. "Take it in your hands, play with 
it." 

Her hands grasped the thick rod like a club. As his excitement grew, hot 
blood coursed through the swollen veins and his penis expanded with little 
jerking leaps in her fingers. 

Her tongue worked avidly at the throbbing head, sucking at the open 
glans-tip to extract the warm, white seminal liquid, mixing it with her 
saliva until the end of his cock was a huge slippery ball of fire that 
threatened to stretch the viscous membranes of her cheeks to the bursting 
point. 

As her mouth worked with mindless greed the sharp edge of her teeth scraped 
at the fleshy ridge of taut foreskin and he uttered a startled grunt of 
pain. His hips shoved upward, thrusting his cock deep in her throat, almost 
choking her. Her lips opened and closed in sensation and torment as his 
pelvis rose and fell, ramming the massive instrument in and out of her 
bruised mouth. In lusting pain her lips clamped hungrily on the ravaging 
cock and she sucked and licked with a savage fury. Her hands pistoned up and 
down on the plunging shaft as though to drive it into the very depths of her 
body. 

The blood-pressured head of his cock expanded to a raw throbbing knob of 
desire in the burning friction of her suctioning cheeks and lips and tongue. 
His body writhed and twisted as his arms and legs flailed wildly out of 
control. Suddenly his fingers tangled in her hair, gripping it tightly, and 
he yanked her head down against his thighs smothering her face in the coarse 
brush of pubic hair. Every muscle knotted, his hips arched and his cock 
stiffened to a rod of steel in her throat. With a final lunge his body 
lurched forward, shafting the rod in her madly sucking mouth to the hilt. 

He let out a long, high-pitched scream as the huge expanded bubble of his 
cock exploded like a pricked balloon. Great jets of white-hot liquid flooded 
her cheeks and gushed down her throat as his balls pumped their waiting load 
of sperm deep in her body. She swallowed in gasping crazed gulps, trying to 
suck the spurting fluid deep into her hungry womb, to drown the fire in her 
vagina with seminal rain. Her thighs rubbed together in a furious effort to 
squeeze out the demanding pain in her wet, throbbing cunt. 

Nothing she could do succeeded in appeasing her hunger, pacifying the 
driving lust that goaded her on. She had to have him in her body! Had to 
have that plundering penis filling her terrible need! Deep sobs gurgled with 
the cum seeping into her throat as the well of his scrotum drained and his 
cock deflated to a flaccid pulp in her mouth. Oh God, she had lost it! 

Once more rough hands were pushing her away, denying her. Her mouth worked 
voraciously at empty air, the livid cheeks sucking in and out on a vacuum of 
nothingness. 

Tiny threads of white milk-like sperm spider-webbed from her glistening 
lips. 

Drawn up in a foetus-like position her body rocked back and forth with her 
hands raping furiously between her thighs. Rolling climactic waves convulsed 
her as she huddled against the wall. But it wasn't enough. No sooner had the 
fire been smothered in her lust ere it seemed to fan itself to a renewed 
blast of all-consuming desire. 

Terror shook her as the merciless monster of passion inside of her gnawed at 
her loins. A low hum buzzed in her ears and she realized it was the sound of 
Marge's voice mingled with a low masculine tone. She burst into sobs and 
flung her tormented body full length on the divan, cringing into the soft 
foam in an effort to hide her naked shame. Lost in her own degrading misery 
she failed to heed the muted rumble of conversation in the room. 

"Good God, you didn't have to beat her up did you, Jack?" 

"Come off it, Marge, you know me better than that. Hell, it's just a little 
cut on her lips." 

Jack met her accusing stare with a sleepy, self-satisfied glance. "It'll be 
healed up by the time she comes to work tomorrow. I never leave any marks 
that will show on the girls. 

Wouldn't be good for business!" 

He wasn't lying. Quillan was always very careful to make sure no outward 
scars would remain. 

"You did a hell of a job in the pool, honey. The kid's a luscious piece and 
didn't do too bad by herself either. I got some dandy shots of juicy cunt 
that the guys in the club are going to eat up!" He laughed at his own brand 
of humor. "I gotta admit you were right about the drinks, though. One would 
have been plenty, but I think I got her cooled down enough for the pricks 
out there to control her pussy." 

For a moment Marge felt a twinge of regret for what was going to happen in 
the outer room. Jesus, this one was younger and sweeter than Quillan's gang 
was used to handling - hardly dry behind the ears! 

As she dampened a towel at the wet bar to wipe the dried blood and semen 
from Jan's face the soft grind of a camera in motion stirred the air. 

The cool compress eased the throb of tender flesh on Jan's lip and tamed the 
red welt on her cheek to a rosy blush, but the fire within her inflamed body 
raged unabated. Without knowing how she got there she found herself once 
more by the pool, swaying unsteadily in the support of Marge's arms. 

"Oh, Marge, I'm burning up!" she whimpered. "I want... I need... " Her 
overwrought mind mercifully blanked out the lewd horror of what was 
happening to her lust-incited body and she couldn't find the words to 
express the demand of relentless hunger devouring her. 

"You want to be screwed, honey, to be fucked to death!" Marge's voice 
coarsened to a lascivious murmur as a wall of flesh seemed to be closing in, 
on them. "Just like me!" Oh, hell, she thought vindictively as her 
voluptuous figure melted into the milling crowd, why should girls like Janet 
float through life on a bed of roses when all I ever got was shit and shoved 
in it? 

An icy chill of foreboding shivered up Jan's spine as Marge's arm slipped 
from her waist. 

She blinked in the glare of light punishing her eyes. The room whirled 
dizzily around her but she seemed to sense the sound and smell of animal 
lust pulsing in the atmosphere. 

Her eyes and brain focused just long enough to make her feel lost in a black 
and white chorus of naked flesh, humped tangles of entwined arms and legs, 
swaying breasts and grinding buttocks, conducted by giant phallic batons in 
a writhing score of erotic harmony. 

Suddenly the obscene fantasy turned to nightmare reality as she felt herself 
being drawn roughly into a sea of warm eager flesh. Strong hands ran rampant 
over her body, caressing the graceful slope of her neck and shoulders, the 
slim curve of her waist and the full swell of her hips. They drifted across 
her burning thighs and buttocks. She felt the thrilling pull of voracious 
lips on her breasts, sucking the nipples to hard, quivering erection. 
Exploring fingers tangled in her pubic hair, then ventured to the pulsing 
folds of her vaginal lips, stroking the tender flesh to an exquisite 
moistness. 

Every nerve in her aroused body leaped joyously with lustful, drugged 
physical ecstasy. 

Her heart pounded like a trip hammer then skipped a breathless beat as 
Marge's words echoed in her brain and poured unthinkingly from her lips. 

"Ohhh, yes, yes... I want to be screwed! To be fucked to death!" 

The pleading wail had scarcely left her throat when the hands fondling her 
body turned to hands of steel and the mouth teasing her breasts clamped 
savagely on the long nipple-tip. 

Another mouth ground down on hers, forcing her lips to open, curling them 
back over her teeth. Two mouths. A multitude of fingers kneading her flesh. 
With a mounting horror her bewildered mind grasped the fact that more than 
one masculine body was crushing hers. 

She suddenly had the frightening sensation that a pack of wild animals was 
pawing at her, trying to tear her limb from limb. 

This wasn't it! This wasn't what she wanted, longed for, to fulfill her 
churning desire. Oh God, not this mass of sweating, panting inhumanity that 
threatened to crush the very breath from her body. She struggled like a wild 
doe helplessly ensnared. 

"Come on boys," hot breath spat close to her ear. "This one needs a little 
taming!" 

"I thought Jack had 'em all willing and eager?" Another voice asked. 

"Don't worry about that, man. She's hotter than a firecracker about to go 
off at both ends. 

Right, Bill?" 

The third voice came from behind her, followed by a muffled reply in still a 
different tone. 

Jan had closed her eyes, as if by blotting out sight she could wipe all else 
from the lingering shred of conscious thought in her mind, but now her eyes 
flew open. There were four of them! No... ! What were they going to do with 
her? Yet even as they half-carried, half-dragged her struggling form across 
the carpet, the dark stranger of passion in her body compelled her glance to 
the erect organs protruding from the heavy-hanging sacs between their legs. 

"Hey Bill, Heidi just came in, let's go ball her first and leave this one to 
Bud and Norm. Not that there isn't enough here to go around," he chuckled 
lewdly and tweaked Jan's breast. 

"What's your name, lamb?" 

"Jan... Janet," she answered automatically. 

"Okay, Janet baby, save some of that sweet pussy for us. We'll be back!" His 
hand nuzzled between her thighs and the fingers he withdrew gleamed with 
moisture. 

A shudder rippled through her at his touch and it was all she could do to 
keep her cunt from pressing down hard on his hand. With the departure of the 
two men the smothering pressure lessened, but she seemed to be breathing 
with even greater difficulty. The creamy half-moons of her breasts rose and 
fell rapidly as her mouth gulped for air. The ruby nipples thrust upward to 
taut erectness and the flesh below her armpits strained over the full breast 
mounds as she felt her arms being stretched above her head. She felt the 
smooth covering of the wall at her back. The cool texture of silk was a 
sensual caress on her warm sure. skin and she rubbed against it with a 
feline plea-But why were her arms being held over her head and what were 
they doing to her hands? 

Cold, hard metal bit into her wrists and she raised her eyes to see steel 
rings pinning her arms to the wall. 

Janet had stopped struggling as the rage of lust seized her mind and body, 
removing all responsibility, all need for decision. But her captured hands 
fluttered in protest and she tossed her head from side to side. They 
shouldn't be doing this to her, tethering her like an animal! She tried to 
pull free and her arms and body managed to move away from the wall, but a 
stopping tension jerked her body back with a silken slap. 

The chrome shackles on Jan's wrists were visibly nothing more than a 
standard type of muscle building equipment to be found in many gymnasiums 
and health salons. Although the tension on the pulley was shortened to allow 
the user a scant two feet leeway. 

However the difference in these was that they were constructed on the same 
principle as the ancient Chinese finger trick, one that had fascinated Janet 
as a child. She would put two fingers in a long cylindrical tube, one in 
each end. Then when she tried to withdraw them they wouldn't come free. The 
harder she pulled, the tighter the grip on her fingers became. The first 
time she'd played with that simple magic, she'd become truly frightened, 
almost hysterical, before she stumbled on the secret of release. Yet the 
trick had always held a hidden, rather terrifying mysticism for her even 
though she knew she had but to stop struggling to escape and she would be 
freed. 

Although childhood was a never-never land to the nude figure pinned like a 
lovely white butterfly against the blue silk, perhaps some spark of memory 
stirred. For after several futile attempts she'd ceased trying to break away 
and the biting grip on her wrists loosened. Fortunately for Jan she was tall 
(Quillan's preference). Other girls not of her stature, albeit entirely 
passive and more willing, had suffered greatly by being literally strung up 
on the wall. 

Jan's companions had taken a lascivious delight in watching her struggles. 
Each time she strained forward at the end of the tether, the flowing lines 
of her body arched like a cleanly sculpted Viking goddess poised yearningly 
at a ship's prow. The voluptuous swell of her thrusting breasts pulsed with 
a life of their own. The excited nipples lengthened to crimson stamens in a 
pink diffusion that unfolded like the petals of a rose on the creamy flesh. 

Then as she was snapped back snugly to the wall her entire body vibrated 
like a released quiver in almost orgasmic writhing. The globes of her 
breasts swung free from her body in oscillating rhythm and her hips and 
pelvis rotated sensually with each forward thrust of her buttocks. 

When Jan finally gave up the losing battle, the motion of her quivering 
torso underwent a subtle change. Her shoulders pressed tightly to the wall 
and her back arched sharply, thrusting her pelvis forward. The glossy auburn 
mound undulated with unmistakable desire from between the straining muscles 
of her outspread thighs. 

She tossed her head in frustrated anguish and clenched her fists in their 
silvery shackles until the nails dug into her palms. A demented passion 
clouded her eyes and she glared with lustful hostility at her tormentors. 
Why didn't they do something to help her? Couldn't they see she was tied to 
the stake, being burned alive... please, help me... her lusting body cried 
out in silent agony. 

When she thought she couldn't stand the fiery pressure mounting within her 
any longer, Jan felt strong fingers trailing over her neck and shoulders. 

"Now, baby?" A man's voice breathed hotly in her ear. His caressing touch 
sent a rain of fire pouring through her. 

"Ooooh! Yes... now, please," she gasped. 

"You want me to fuck you? 

Every nerve in her body answered with eager, straining lust. The blood 
rushed to the tips of her breasts as his hairy chest brushed lightly, 
tantalizingly against the throbbing nipples. 

"Well...?" 

He was making her beg, torturing her, but by now she was past caring, 
nothing mattered, nothing existed but the overwhelming drugged desire 
pounding in her loins. 

"Yessss! Fuck me!" she hissed in total surrender. 

Her agonized cry was lost in his mouth as it crushed down on hers with 
brutal force. 

Coarse bristles raked her face as his tongue darted between her teeth and 
probed hotly in her mouth. His arms enveloped her in a fierce embrace and 
the length of his body pressed against hers with a raging passion that 
equaled her own. The ragged flesh of her bruised lips throbbed with pain but 
she felt nothing but the hard pressure of his rigid penis burning into the 
soft, resilient cushion of her stomach. 

The massive cock felt like a hot, searing poker and she thrust her loins 
wildly against him as though trying to draw him into her womb through the 
outer walls of straining flesh. She could feel the hard rod pulsating, 
burrowing to make an enveloping tunnel of the muscular pelvis fused with 
hers by the heat of passion. The bulbous weight of its blood-filled head 
pounded wetly into her belly and its tiny, gasping mouth sucked at the 
velvet skin. 

As he wriggled his hips and groin in a sinuous motion his cock slithered 
wetly up and down on her body, the taut ripple of underside skin slippery 
with an ooze of seminal fluid. 

The thrust of his hips propelled the heavy weight of his swinging balls to 
slap against the distended lips of her up-thrust straining cunt. 

The tantalizing touch of his hard sperm-laden balls on the soft, moistening 
fleshy folds drove Jan's inflamed senses to a towering pitch of fury. She 
buffeted her body madly forward against the stiff penis jabbing into her 
belly and her buttocks gyrated wildly. She spread her legs and ground down 
on his balls, squirming to pull them into the gasping, throbbing ache 
between her thighs. Her hands fought automatically to reach for his cock, to 
force it to fill the lusting void that seemed to be devouring her very soul. 

At the violence of her downward lurch the bonds at her wrists snapped into 
the flesh with the cruel bit of a sprung bear trap. Excruciating pain was a 
streak of a thousand knives that stabbed from her flailing fingertips to her 
toes digging in the carpet. The scream of agony that welled up in her throat 
turned suddenly to a gasp of exultation as she felt the insistent prod of 
the bulbous knob of his prick worming hotly into the lips of her vagina. 

For a breathing moment the fiery head seemed to belch a dragon's flame into 
the depths of her body, a blaze that swirled through the vaginal passage to 
lick at the walls of her womb with a tongue of fire. Then with a great, 
thrusting lunge his penis reamed into her with the violence of a battering 
ram. Her whole lower body seemed to be split apart and she jerked back 
reflexively as the blood-inflated head scraped hard against her cervix. 

She was almost lifted from the floor as her body straddled the deeply 
embedded pole between her legs. 

Her helpless form would have been suspended between the gripping pressure on 
her wrists and the rigid organ impaling her cunt if a strong body hadn't 
wedged behind her and supported her with balancing hands on the swaying orbs 
of her buttocks. 

Jan had completely forgotten the second man who had helped subdue her 
struggles. Up until now he'd stood aside, merely watching the tormented 
writhing of her captive body with a sadistic enjoyment. But as at a 
prearranged signal the moment his partner guided his penis to Jan's 
hair-lined cunt slit he insinuated his body between hers and the wall. 

At first she was too overwrought to even feel the naked buffer of aroused 
flesh at her back. Following the initial jerk of withdrawal as the huge 
penis shafted her loins the demon of lust in her belly engulfed her with 
renewed fury. This was it at last! This was what they'd been so cruelly 
depriving her of, the answer to the hunger driving her almost out of her 
mind. 

She shoved her weight with frenzied delight on the huge penis planted in her 
soft white belly and a groan of relief escaped her lips. Oh God, nothing 
else existed except the delicious sensation filling the steaming furrow of 
her body! The hot, swollen rod of his cock pounded at her exposed vaginal 
walls like a rolling tidal wave in great roaring swells of passion. It 
surged with convulsive leaps inside of her, filling her every crevice with 
depraved sensuality. The giant head was like the gulping mouth of a venomous 
snake, darting, sucking, pulling her soul from her body with every 
rapier-like stab of his cock. 

The first slow easy rhythm had gradually increased until his penis was 
sliding in and out of the inflamed grasping lips of her cunt with the rapid 
tempo of a skewering pile driver, pushing the air from her lungs with every 
inward thrust. 

It was then she became vaguely aware of loud grunts from behind her, 
drowning out the continuous stream of her own low mewling moans. 

From the depths of her drugged, barely conscious mind, she suddenly realized 
her body was being driven back into a wall of heaving flesh. She felt the 
strong hands cupping her buttocks turn into fierce tentacles that kneaded 
and pulled at the flexing muscles. An inflated mound stabbing at the back of 
her thighs pushed through her legs. She heard a wet slap as the balls 
swinging from the cock pummeling her body smacked the protrusion that had 
wormed between her legs. Her thighs clenched at the intruding rigidity 
supporting her hips. 

Oh! No... noooo! It was another hard swollen prick! For one fleeting second 
a shattering wave of hatred, of rending shame and humiliation ripped through 
the tide of lust enslaving her senses. They couldn't possibly mean to do 
this to her! They'd tear her apart! Yet the insistent fingers digging into 
the soft skin of her buttocks, spreading the ripe full globes then probing 
the opening crevice, told her instinctively what was going to happen. 

Janet screamed. It was a sound that was neither animal or human. The 
unearthly cry of a soul in hell. 

The round, hard rod between her legs had wriggled back and found its mark 
and with an earth shattering jolt had reamed the tense resisting flesh of 
her tiny anus ring. The man emitted a loud grunt as its bloated head 
pressured the full length of his cock into the agonized tunnel of Jan's 
rectum. He pumped madly in and out of the screaming passage almost in tempo 
with the phallic monster pistoning the tortured girl's vagina. 

Her head tossed wildly and her eyes muted to dull purple sockets in her 
passion-twisted face. Bereft of all conscious thought, her body was a pillar 
of molten flesh, consumed by overpowering lust. Beyond the pain an 
excruciating ecstasy welled in her throat, bubbled in her breasts, then 
gushed down into her belly, then into her thighs. It swirled in her loins 
and bowels, engulfing the gorging cudgels sheathed in the ravenous passages 
of blazing flesh. Then with a mighty roar it erupted deep within her. Like 
water bursting from a river long dammed it flooded her with crashing waves 
of exquisite, almost unbearable sensation. 

It seemed as though her body would shatter into tiny slivers as it jerked 
and heaved with a torrent of spasmodic shudders that lifted her and shook 
her in the teeth of orgasmic rage. 

Simultaneously the bodies fucking furiously into hers stiffened and pressed 
her in a vise-like grip. The three entwined figures fused into one, a solid 
climax of convulsing, writhing flesh. 

Janet had no conception of the passage of time for she seemed to lose all 
contact with reality. Arms held her, hands grabbed her, pinching her 
breasts, kneading and massaging every nerve, every muscle, -every opening of 
her body. She was suspended in a white hot exploding moment of time, a 
vacuum of the never-ending demand of lusting flesh. Her senses turned back 
into the present in blinking flashes - like a light switch being turned off 
and on with a maddening monotony. 

She was lying flat on her back on the soft carpeting and the deep pile felt 
like a lush meadow on her fevered flesh. A heavy weight was on her pelvis, 
pushing her body down, down into the cool grass. Still burning up inside, as 
her arms reached out wildly to grasp it, slender wrists braceleted with 
angry red welts, her fingers shook with remembered pain. 

Yet a seemingly endless desire goaded her on. 

With a will of their own her trembling hands gripped the inflated penis 
poised over her spread-eagled legs and guided the swollen rod to the crimson 
lips of her still hungry cunt. 

A pale misting of seminal fluid filmed the moist flesh and the blood-filled 
head slipped with lubricated ease into her insatiable vaginal passage. Her 
hips moved furiously up and down as though they were a separate entity, a 
well-oiled piece of machinery rising and falling in rhythm with the fleshy 
staff drubbing in and out of her cunt. 

She rolled her head with sensual pleasure, her flowing hair a ruby stain 
fanning out on the yellow rug. The room spun in a dizzy whirl around her and 
with the first flickering of conscious thought she struggled to bring the 
images spinning before her eyes into focus. 

Her gaze fastened on one of the leather exercising horses. She stared at the 
blur of motion with a mesmerized concentration, willing it to stop. 

Then once again her mind clouded as the tearing fulfillment of passion 
rendered her helpless in a quaking void of orgasm. Body jerking wildly, 
through blanketing filters of moaning pleasure, she realized dimly that the 
padded horse couldn't stop. 

She felt she was watching a merry-go-round for the lifeless creature was 
moving up and down with a hydraulic, rhythmic incisiveness. Then a vision of 
Lady Godiva drifted across her fragmented mind, for the horse had a rider 
astride his back. A long graceful curve of golden leg gripped the smooth 
flank, the heel digging into the supple leather as the galloping motion 
increased rapidly. 

Jan's bewildered eyes travelled upward over the gripping knee and full thigh 
to the lush swell of gleaming hips and buttocks. They were bouncing up and 
down in wild abandon and she now noticed the long voluptuous lines of the 
rider's body. The girl was stretched far forward across the horse's back 
with her arms clinging fiercely to its thick, headless neck. Each time the 
mechanical steed gave an upward lunge her torso rose in the air. Her breasts 
swung freely, the pendulous globes just grazing the leather, teasing the 
long nipples to visible rigid erection. 

The horse was going faster and faster and suddenly the padded monster began 
to vibrate. 

Its shoulders rippled, its flanks heaved, even its rump quivered and it 
seemed transformed to a madly galloping living thing. The girl's body was 
lifted almost completely from the broad back with the violent increase in 
tempo and her nails and heels dug into the leather flesh. 

Jan gasped as a writhing whip suddenly snaked from nowhere to lash at the 
rider's naked buttocks. With every downward swoop of the horse's heaving 
flanks the slender thread of whip flicked across the girl's glowing flesh. 
Yet she failed to cringe from the stinging lash, instead she seemed to 
wriggle sensuously to welcome it. 

A slow nausea of revulsion rose in Jan's throat. She tried to wrench her 
gaze from the girl's obvious masochistic joy. For her flying body writhed 
with a strange sexual stimulation, every muscle flexing and rippling with an 
unleashed passionate fury. Her dark hair streamed over her face, obscuring 
all but the lips contorted in lascivious rapture. Her creamy flesh was dewed 
with a fine perspiration of passion as she swayed and bounced with a hectic 
frenzy. 

The blur of motion and metronome flick of the whip held Jan's eyes with a 
hypnotic force. 

Against her will an alien thrill of excitement chilled her spine. As the 
girl's body arched high in the air her glance was drawn momentarily to the 
void of open space between white straining hips and broad expanse of dark 
leather. Her eyes widened in shocked disbelief, and her drugged mind fought 
to blot out the significance of the horrifying sight. It couldn't be true, 
it must be some obscene figment of her confused brain... Her thoughts 
whirlpooled in unbelieving circles. 

For with the mounting tension of Janet's overwrought senses the headless 
horse and flailing rider had taken on an eerie, nightmarish aspect of 
reality. But there had been no saddle on the prancing animal's smooth back. 
There still wasn't, yet rising from the broad surface above his oscillating 
flanks was what appeared to be a round pommel. But no... 

Her eyes were transfixed to the spot. 

The decapitated, legless, mechanical monster was further mutilated and 
deformed. It's huge male-animal organ protruded with erect, obscene lust 
from its back as though it had been malevolently drawn inside out through 
the lifeless form. The artificial cock vibrated in the air, a huge rubber 
phallus motivated to life by the rippling leather skin of the motorized 
stallion. The full pulsating length of the awesome cudgel flashed wetly into 
view each time the riders hips swung high at the peak of upward motion. 

For the enormous staff was positioned directly beneath the girl's crotch and 
she rode up and down on it with a mad frenetic ecstasy. With the downward 
plunge of her body the rubber cock disappeared completely, immersed in the 
dark tunnel of her vagina. Then on the upward surge the pursed red flesh of 
her vaginal lips gripped the rubber flesh from the base to the tip where 
they sucked voraciously before the downward lunge forced the glossy rod deep 
in her belly. The artificial penis was so massive, and the bucking motion of 
the machine so violent, it seemed the girl's body would be bent in two by 
the furious copulation. 

Yet Janet realized with a sharp and bewildered intensity that in some 
horrible and twisted way the unnatural, lewd performance had incited her own 
lust beyond control. Her back had arched, her cunt opened wide, her hips 
pumped into the air. A shadowy figure beside her raised up and entered her. 
At last, there - inside, deeper. Ahhhh... Then passion broke through all 
restraint and thought was gone again. Lust blinded her eyes. 

Her vision gradually cleared as her wayward body still jerked convulsively 
with the ebbing flow of orgasmic spasms. The animated hobby horse still 
pranced on its endless journey into nothingness but the rider no longer 
clung to its neck. The girl had straightened to a long upright column of 
straining flesh. Only the monstrous inhuman cock impaling her body supported 
her on the bounding machine. She had it skewered into her vaginal walls with 
a fierce grip. Every muscle and nerve knotted and pulsed with straining 
desire as she fought to reach orgasm. Her buttocks moved in lewd circles as 
she ground her cunt into the soft leather and her flat stomach pulsed with 
the beat of a second heart as the rubber monster throbbed within her. 

The high swell of her breasts jutted proudly from her body, rosy nipples 
erect and quivering in eager anticipation. There was a primitive, pagan 
beauty in the taut figure. 

Abruptly two things happened at once. The horse stopped dead in mid-air, 
arrested in its journey. The only motion remaining was a reverberating 
ripple of pliant leather. A violent shudder jolted through the girl's tense 
body as though it had been swept by a high-voltage charge of electricity. 

She threw her head back and emitted a wild blood-curdling shriek of ecstatic 
triumph. 

Janet's eyes had been glued on the girl's impaled lusting body with an 
abject, spell-bound fascination that was broken by the chilling scream. Her 
gaze skittered to the girl's face. An obscene mask of unholy rapture 
distorted the fresh young features almost beyond recognition. But something 
about it seemed familiar, the upward tilt of the pert nose, the feathery 
sweep of brow, the... Was it possible? It simply couldn't be! 

"Oh, my God, no!" Jan groaned aloud as her eyes fixed on the wanton face 
with a growing horror. 

She fought desperately to disbelieve what she saw, but there was no escaping 
it. The figure on the devilish machine, writing in absolute transport of 
insane sexual climax, was Betty, Scott's sister. 

Jan's eyes glazed with shock and dull nothingness paralyzed her brain. She 
couldn't understand what was happening. What was Betty doing here? And why 
was she herself caught up in the nightmare of remembered lust, relentless 
desire that stirred deep in her loins like a sleeping demon that threatened 
to wake and devour her. Where was Marge who'd brought her here? 

Then the impact of reality hit her with a terrifying panic. She wanted to 
scream, to lash out at the wave of agonizing horror that wracked her 
confused mind. A feeling of humiliation, of over- powering shame crawled 
through her body like some slimy worm. Betty, Marge, the physical pain that 
jabbed at her wrists, her breasts... Everything submerged into her terrible 
desperate need to get out of there, to escape from that red-black world of 
depravity. Every instinct was urging her to escape, to get home to safety. 

Hardly knowing what she was doing, Jan somehow managed to drag herself to 
her feet. 

She tried to run, but it was like walking through quicksand. She bumped into 
someone, stumbled and nearly fell. Someone else yelled at her. Hands fumbled 
at her legs. She moved blindly, like a lost child not knowing where she was 
going or where she had been. 

The last thing she remembered was being wrapped in a strong, somehow safe 
and comforting, embrace. 

 CHAPTER EIGHT 

For a man who seemed to have everything, Valentine Wexler was extremely out 
of sorts when he entered his office that Tuesday morning. Though his heart 
and mind were usually about as mellow as a steel trap, his outward facade 
was most generally that of a man with a charming, easy going nature. 
Maintaining this illusion was rarely a difficult task. In fact, it was no 
problem at all since he quite literally did have everything. Everything, at 
least, that he wanted and had the capacity to enjoy. 

He'd been born to wealth and while it is undoubtedly an unwritten law that 
money makes money, he had also been born with an acquisitive avarice. So 
that aside from adding to an already considerable fortune, he took whatever 
he wanted from life. The money helped, but what simplified the fulfillment 
of his desires even more was a flaw in his make-up. For he lacked a certain 
degree of morality, a degree of conscience that robbed him of the capacity 
to feel any real, deep lasting emotions toward others. 

So if he encountered some things he wanted that money couldn't buy outright, 
he ruthlessly obtained them by other means. Or rather he bought the people 
to acquire them for him. Which was the reason for his irritation that 
Tuesday morning. This was one time what had to be done he had to do himself, 
and he was forced to drop his guard. 

"Damn that bastard Quillan," Val muttered aloud to himself. 

He'd dismissed his secretary and ordered her to cancel all appointments with 
a curt snarl that not only surprised her but himself as well. Now he sat at 
his massive desk slumped in angry thought with a deep frown marring his 
usually bland brow. 

Val had stumbled inadvertently onto the wanton display at the Club the night 
before. After Jan's refusal to have dinner with him he'd spent a restless 
evening at home then decided to drive over to the Inn on the chance of 
finding a poker game in progress. Janet had been right in her assumption on 
that score. Some few members occasionally did utilize the gym as a card 
room. They also weren't above using it for private liaisons, but they 
weren't of the same breed of male animal as Jack Quillan's selected group. 
Though well aware of Jack's orgiastic activities, Val preferred to do his 
love-making in greater privacy. 

While he actually could care less how Jack got his sexual kicks, he strongly 
objected to the cameras employed. Not because of the context of the pictures 
taken, but because they smacked too much of the obvious tools of blackmail. 
And he had a great dislike for the obvious in such matters. 

So Val hadn't been surprised when he walked in on the sadistic party. He'd 
had a quick drink at the bar, eyeing the mass orgy with some distaste, and 
had just turned to leave when he collided with a sobbing figure. His shock 
on discovering the hysterical, incoherent girl in his steadying embrace was 
Janet White was quickly overcome by a towering rage against Jack Quillan. He 
fought down the impulse to put the fear of God (or Wexler's power) into him 
right then and there for the distraught girl was clearly on the verge of 
collapse. 

Not bothering with clothes he'd simply wrapped Jan in a huge bath towel, 
carried her almost unconscious form to his car and taken her home. With a 
totally uncharacteristic display of tenderness he'd sketchily cleansed her 
bruised body and put her to bed like a child. 

During this procedure the man's usually impassive countenance was a study of 
conflicting emotions. Bathing the firm perfect hemispheres of her upturned 
breasts, the flushed nipples quivered and seemed to reach out to his touch. 
He felt a surge of desire spread from his fingertips and settle deep in his 
groin. It became an almost unbearable itch when he moved to the silky 
protrusion of pubic hair. She uttered an unconscious little moan and her 
thighs opened permissively. As he wiped the soft hair-lined lips of her 
sperm-filled cunt he found that he had an instant erection. He could feel 
his throbbing penis strain at the crotch of his pants, trying to burst 
through the taut material with an impatient lunge. 

His throat went dry and a film of lust glazed his eyes as he stared down at 
velvety folds of flesh, the cherry-red clitoris palpitating like a tiny 
heart in the moist pink opening. But a faint grimace of distaste twisted his 
slack mouth at the dampness of other men's sperm lingering on Jan's cunt and 
thighs, despite the fact that it seemed to stimulate his own desire. A 
renewed rage at Quillan's audacity hardened his face and his cock slowly 
deflated in his pants. 

That heated anger had frozen into a far more ominous icy chill as Val mulled 
over the events of the previous evening and cursed Jack Quillan in his mind. 
The damned sadistic pimp, he fumed. I told him I was interested in that 
girl! 

In Val's certainty of his own power no further warning inferring 'hands off' 
should have been necessary. The property on which the Inn was built was 
owned by him, along with a mortgage on the building, and he could tie Jack 
up in knots if he so desired. He always got what he wanted and he was 
fastidious enough that he made damned sure it was the best of everything, 
which included women. He wanted young Janet White, at least as long as her 
husband was gone, and after a surface investigation of her emotional and 
financial insecurity had little or no doubt she could be made to bend to his 
will. But as in most acquisition, to him the chase was part of the 
excitement of capture. Like a hunter close on the spoor of his quarry, he'd 
been in no hurry, knowing the kill was imminent. 

Thus the reason behind his discomposure was that Quillan had not only 
interfered with his plan of pursuit, but in doing so had, in his estimation 
somewhat damaged or at least wounded his prey. What further disturbed Val 
was his inability to just drop the whole affair after what had happened. 
Jan's delightful freshness and the sensuous beauty of her body had no 
infatuated him nothing could deter his avid desire to possess her 
completely, body and soul. 

The thought in his dispassionate, orderly mind fell smoothly into place and 
it went into motion with the precision of a well trained juggernaut. But a 
hint of violence beneath the hooded lids of his eyes betrayed the expression 
of bland civility once more masking his face as his hand lifted the receiver 
from the phone. 

After making a series of calls during which his voice bit off the words with 
a concise, direct clarity of intent that brooked no argument, he rang for 
his secretary. She sighed inwardly with relief to find her boss perched 
rather indolently on the edge of his desk, his lean body relaxed, his face 
wearing its usual suave expression of genial self-content. 

Val had contacted Jack Quillan, Marge (and through her, Betty) and his 
attorneys. With one fell swoop he eliminated Janet's job, disposed of 
Scott's sister and assured himself of the possession of all of Jan's worldly 
goods. 

 CHAPTER NINE 

It wasn't until almost noon of that same Tuesday morning that Janet could 
think back on the previous evening and put together some of the strange and 
violent fragments of it. 

She had regained consciousness in darkness after the first deep sleep of 
drugged shock. 

As she put out her arm to the bedside lamp, a stab of pain shot through her 
wrist and she dropped back to the pillow. She tried to move but couldn't for 
her whole body seemed weighted down by pain. Pain that started as a numb, 
pulsating throb in her wrists and knifed to the core of her being. She felt 
not only a physical ache but a mounting panic, a tight constriction in her 
breast of the fear of the unknown. 

"It was a bad dream... just a dream... a nightmare... " she tried to tell 
herself, but the dreadful throb between her legs shouted the truth. 

Dread beat at her as visions of what had happened flashed unbidden through 
her mind. 

Letting Marge make love to her in the pool. Going after the horrible Jack 
Quillan like a sex-crazed animal. And the men, strange men, mauling her, 
possessing her. Then Betty... Scott's sister... Scott! 

The name filtered through her tortured brain and brought the bitter tears 
that had been clogging her throat. Jan started to sob, wild uncontrollable 
sobs of shame and disgust. 

She loathed her own befouled body, loathed the world. She wished she were 
dead as her sobs rose to a high-pitched wail that pierced the darkness with 
the howling sounds of a mortally wounded animal. She cried herself back into 
a restless sleep of oblivion. 

When she awoke the second time the late morning sun traced leafy shadows of 
the Chinese elm outside the window in the airy bedroom. The horrible shock 
of that first awakening had served to blunt her anguish and memory came more 
gradually this time. 

She lay in the big bed in a dull, lethargic stupor. Her violet eyes clouded 
with an ache too deep for tears and they stared unseeing at the glitter of 
sun rays layering the air. Her mind was in a black turmoil as she struggled 
to recall the time spent at the club. She'd blanked out during much of the 
evening but lewd bits and pieces of her degrading, shameful lust rose up to 
haunt her. They passed through her thoughts as though she were reciting some 
terrible catechism of depravity. 

Jan forced herself to push all thought of Scott from her mind for her shame 
and humiliation seemed to attach a stigma to his love. Happily the patina of 
time dims memory, but she felt she would never know another peaceful, 
unashamed moment. 

It wasn't until she was soaking her hated, aching body in an almost scalding 
tub that Janet began to wonder how she'd gotten home. Val Wexler! Oh God, 
no! Though the latter part of the evening was mostly a gray blur in her mind 
somehow she knew for a certainty that Val had brought her home and put her 
to bed. This only added to her remorse, to think the one who'd been so kind 
and understanding had witnessed her sordid behavior. She felt he would 
probably never want to see her again, but she'd be eternally grateful for 
his help. 

She didn't know how she herself would have the courage to face any of the 
ones involved in her drunken lapse of morality. In her innocence it never 
occurred to Jan that there could be any reason for her loss of physical 
control other than too much liquor and her love-starved hunger without 
Scott. Drugs had never occurred to her. 

After the healing bath Jan was ravenously hungry and felt guilty because she 
was able to eat a hearty breakfast despite her misery. Almost against her 
will she began to feel better physically with the natural resilience of a 
young healthy body. The only outward sign of the ordeal of the bitterly 
degrading night were the bruised wrists. 

The slam of the front door startled her and she heard Betty's voice raised 
in laughing conversation coming down the hall towards the kitchen. Beyond 
realizing the girl must have somehow gotten into the Inn while looking for 
her, wrapped in her own despair Jan had given little thought to Scott's kid 
sister. 

She had a mad impulse to run and hide. She felt responsible for Betty's 
welfare and the thought of what she'd led her into was like a knife in Jan's 
heart. All she could remember was the lewd horror of girl and horse. The 
knowledge that young Betty had been having the most thrilling experience of 
her life would have been beyond Jan's conception. 

She turned shakily from pouring a cup of coffee when Betty entered the 
kitchen with a breezy hello. Raising a distraught face Jan saw that Marge 
was with the pert teenager. 

For a moment they looked at Jan closely and speculatively. 

Betty, too, dreaded this meeting, but not from any feeling of shame or 
guilt. She feared Janet's anger. She was afraid of being severely 
reprimanded or worst of all, being sent back home. This was the last thing 
Betty wanted to happen just as she felt on the threshold of an exciting new 
life. 

Hating to go back to Janet's she'd persuaded Marge to let her spend the rest 
of the night with her. To the pleasure-seeking sex-pot, Marge's veneer of 
sophistication and free and easy style of living, her expensive apartment 
and lavish wardrobe seemed the epitome of glamour. Or as she enthused to the 
older woman in the morning, everything was simply fab. 

Betty could hardly believe her good luck when Marge offered to start her on 
a modeling career even to the point of generous financial aid. Precisely 
what type of modeling was a trifle vague, but at the mention of a word 
"model" she had instant visions of hoards of handsome young men at her feet. 

Rather than having to override Jan's certain objection to the plan she 
welcomed Marge's suggestion that she merely say she planned on visiting at a 
friend's house for a while. 

But when Betty came home one look at Jan's face banished her fear of 
punishment. 

Where she'd expected anger and disapproval she was surprised to see an 
expression of abject misery tinged with obvious panic. Suddenly the 
compromising implications of her sister-in-law's presence at the bizarre 
gathering at the club dawned on Betty. Jan wouldn't dare interfere with her! 

Abruptly the girl changed her tactics. With a new sense of power she stated 
flatly she was moving in with a girl friend who had scads of money and 
wanted company. Then as she went around the house gathering up her things 
she carefully let fall a few thinly disguised innuendoes. Betty made certain 
Janet would understand that if she took the notion she might just let Scott 
know how his wife was amusing herself while he was away. For good measure 
she hinted to Jan that she really should get her problems straightened out - 
try to find someone willing to help her. 

That ought to hold her and keep her out of my hair, Betty thought smugly as 
she packed her things. 

Marge had come along ostensibly to lend moral support, but she had a private 
mission to accomplish. Aside from a few innocuous pleasantries she'd said 
little as Betty wandered in and out of the kitchen chattering away. When the 
girl finally disappeared in the bedroom Marge helped herself to a cup of 
coffee and settled across the table from Jan's forlorn figure. 

"I'm sorry, Marge. Guess I've lost my manners. Would you like something to 
eat with that?" 

"Lord no, my stomach wouldn't stand it! You don't look so hot either, kid. 
Here, I've got just what we need." 

Marge rummaged in her handbag and came up with a small flask. Before Jan 
could protest she'd added a generous shot of brandy to each of their cups. 

Up until now Jan had hardly opened her mouth. For the implications explicit 
in Betty's remarks sank into her mind to strike a new terror. She'd been 
quietly struggling with the knowledge that such an irresponsible teenager 
shouldn't be allowed to go her carefree way alone. But for Scott's sake as 
well as her own Jan felt powerless to prevent it. 

She loved Scott and didn't want to lose him, but it was unthinkable that he 
should have to bear the hurt of her betrayal. Not now, not when he was 
facing the horrors of war. It just wouldn't be fair to him. Jan knew then 
that she'd sacrifice anybody or anything if necessary to keep Scott from 
being made to suffer on her account. 

As Marge sipped the bracing coffee she gazed frankly at the young woman. 
"You look like you just found out there isn't any Santa Claus. Good heavens, 
Jan, there's no harm in having a good time. It's not the end of the world!" 

With a show of sympathy, and a little more brandy, Marge had no difficulty 
in breaking through the thin veneer of Jan's reserve. It was a relief for 
Jan to put her fear into words and the story of her remorse and shame came 
pouring out. 

"I'm so ashamed," Jan finished miserably, hands over her face. 

"Honestly, darling, your husband is doing it, so why not you ? Not even you 
could expect a man to be away from his wife for a whole year and not get in 
some girl's pants!" Marge made certain of what she meant to impress upon Jan 
with forthright crudity. "But just because a normal man like Scott has to 
get his fucking elsewhere doesn't mean he's being untrue to you. It's just a 
natural biological function for all of us." 

"But Scott wouldn't...!" Or would he? Jan's conscience quite humanly grasped 
at any straw to salve her guilt. Hadn't she let her carnal nature overcome 
what she knew to be morally wrong and degrading? 

"Don't kid yourself. The laws of nature are stronger than the best of us," 
Marge laughed. 

"That doesn't include me, of course! But you'd better start growing up, Jan, 
and accept the facts of life." 

Marge left the subject at that, but the seed of doubt and uncertainty 
planted in Jan's mind could be seen taking root in her transparent 
expression. Marge unhesitatingly pressed her advantage and moved on to her 
primary objective. 

"I don't mean to nag and preach when you're so upset. But really, honey, it 
doesn't make good sense for you to struggle along this way when you could 
mark time until Scott is out of the army without a care in the world." 

"What do you mean, how can I possibly...?" 

"I've seen the way Val Wexler looks at you. Without even trying you've got 
that man wrapped around your little finger. There isn't a gal around who 
wouldn't love to be in your shoes!" 

"Marge, you're mistaken. And even if I wanted to, which I don't, after last 
night -." 

"That's part of what I mean. Do you think for one minute Val would have 
acted like that - taken care of you like a father - if he wasn't deeply in 
love with you?" Father, shit, Marge thought derisively but she'd been well 
coached by Val's phone call earlier. 

After a brief dissertation on Val's sterling character, not to forget his 
unlimited wealth she concluded with, "Money doesn't mean a thing to him, but 
look what it could do to solve your worries. Besides, Jan, that wife of his 
had made him miserable for years. Think of the happiness you could bring to 
the poor lonely man." 

Boy, that was laying it on a little thick, she laughed to herself. I better 
quit while I'm ahead! 

Although Janet couldn't conceive of following Marge's advice, she was 
visibly impressed. 

In addition to being blinded by her gratitude to Val, she was too confused 
to recognize it for a rather blatant sales pitch. 

Marge and Betty finally left in a flurry of light cheerful good-bys like 
casual acquaintances who'd merely dropped by for a friendly chat. Jan's 
relief at their departure was mixed with a let-down sensation. The generous 
doses of brandy Marge poured into several cups of coffee had served to blunt 
the edge of anxiety and Jan wandered through the hushed rooms with a 
light-headed feeling of being a stranger in her own house. It was several 
minutes before the impact of Marge's parting phrase struck her. 

"I'll see you later at the Inn!" 

The Inn! How could she possibly go back there to work! She shuddered at the 
idea like a criminal being forced to return to the scene of her crime. Not 
so soon, not tonight - she couldn't face it, she'd call in and say she was 
sick. 

She was thankful when an unfamiliar voice answered the phone. She quickly 
stated her reason for calling and was about to hang up without waiting for a 
reply when the strange voice uttered the words of doom. 

"Thank you for calling Mrs. White, we were just going to contact you." 

The hand holding the receiver stopped its motion in mid-air and Jan slowly 
drew the phone back to her ear. 

"We regret that your services are no longer required and your final check is 
being forwarded in the mail." 

 CHAPTER TEN 

Long after the line had gone dead Jan had stood motionless by the desk with 
the telephone receiver emitting its lifeless drone in her ear. Then she did 
something she'd never done before in her life. With the fixed movements of a 
somnambulist she walked to the kitchen and opened a cabinet door. Her hands 
were steady as she took out an almost full bottle of Scotch, reached for the 
water tumbler by the sink and filled it to the brim with the amber liquid. 

It wasn't until she'd almost drained the glass and took it from her lips 
gasping for breath that she started to tremble. The fiery medicinal taste of 
the liquor rose in her throat to gag her but she fought down the wave of 
nausea and refilled the glass with shaking fingers. 

Her nerves quieted as the soothing warmth of alcohol flowed through her 
bloodstream and she carried the drink to the table and slumped down in a 
mindless trance. 

As her brain slowly began to function Jan had the hysterical desire to laugh 
but then the enormity of her hopeless situation flooded her with despair. 
Only one thought danced through her mind on an endless treadmill. What was 
she going to do now? 

The melodious peal of the door chime roused her from the seemingly 
unanswerable question, her first impulse was to ignore the summons but as it 
echoed insistently through the air she made her way to the front door just 
as it was shoved open from the outside. 

Val Wexler, his arms laden with assorted bags and boxes, brushed past her 
astonished eyes before Jan realized what was happening. 

"Sorry, Janet," he called over his shoulder as he headed for the kitchen, 
"but all this stuff is damnably heavy!" 

Jan watched with bewilderment as he distributed his bounty on a countertop. 
She recognized the labels on the cartons as coming from a gourmet restaurant 
and the bags spilled forth assorted wine and liquor. One large glassined box 
he placed in her hands. 

Purple violets inside shimmered on a dewy bed of cotton. 

"These poor blossoms are but faded replicas of thine starry eyes," Val 
pronounced with a merry laugh. 

Jan's heart turned over in her breast as she saw the smoldering fires 
burning beneath the levity of his direct, flattering gaze. A sliver of fear 
stabbed her brain even as a strange warmth coursed through her body. 

"Come now, Janet, you've got that frightened rabbit look about you again and 
I won't have it," he admonished. "You refuse to let me take you out to 
dinner so the dinner has come to you! It's as simple as that." 

Jan couldn't help but laugh in response to his engaging grin. The quantity 
of Scotch she'd consumed along with Val's running commentary of light banter 
was making her feel more relaxed by the minute and she sat down and watched 
him with dazed astonishment. 

Val Wexler, the wealthy dilettante, took charge of Jan and her kitchen like 
a thoroughly seasoned maitre'd. After mixing a drink that was delightfully 
cool and refreshing he lighted two thin pale-umber cigarettes and placed one 
between her lips. Imported tobacco, his own blend, he explained when Jan 
rolled the slender cylinder in her fingers and examined it curiously. 

The tobacco had a rather strong but not unpleasant taste. Marge had smoked 
the last cigarette she had in the house and Jan inhaled the pungent smoke 
gratefully into her lungs. Though by no means a heavy smoker, she enjoyed 
having a cigarette with a cocktail. Through the haze of exhaled sweetish 
smoke she watched Val rummage through cupboards until he located pans for 
the impromptu feast. 

I really should be helping him, Jan mused dreamily, but she suddenly felt 
too deliciously comfortable to move. And it was wonderful to have someone 
fussing over her, taking care of her again. She felt a warm rush of 
tenderness for Val and wondered how she'd ever thought she didn't really 
like this thoughtful man. 

When he had the dinner transferred into casseroles and in the oven, Val 
turned his full attention on Janet. She'd finished her drink and just ground 
out her cigarette and was staring at him with a bemused smile on her sensual 
lips. As he refilled their glasses, she wondered what it was about the 
cocktail that relieved her tension, made her feel so much better, almost 
happy. For a brief moment she thought, I shouldn't be drinking after what 
alcohol did to me last night. But this feeling was not at all like what 
she'd felt then. This was just a soothing, delightful glow that helped her 
forget for just a little while. 

Not until Jan found herself laughing uproariously at a rather salacious but 
funny anecdote that Val was leaning across the table to recount did she 
realize it was the third cigarette she was smoking that caused her relaxed 
euphoria. By this time she felt much too uplifted to care. How odd, she 
thought, just a few hours ago she'd been in an abyss of depression and 
agony, yet now she was so wonderfully alive. 

"Come along, darling," Val's voice was a husky murmur as he drew Jan to her 
feet. 

"You're going to change to your prettiest, filmiest negligee and I'm going 
to pin those violets on your shoulder and we'll have dinner in style. 

Negligee? That didn't seem quite proper to Jan and Val delighted at the 
blush that spread from the roots of her hair to the visible swell of full 
breasts rising from the scooped neckline of her bodice. 

With an impulsive motion Val bent his head and pressed his lips in the warm, 
deep cleft between the rosy mounds. Her breasts gave an involuntary upward 
thrust at Jan's startled intake of breath and he took his hands from her 
arms to trace the erect pointed nipples straining at the thin material of 
her gown. 

Not caring how she looked that morning Jan hadn't bothered with a bra and 
Val could feel the unhampered tips of her breasts lengthen and grow hard 
beneath his fingers. Just as the night before there was an instant flexing 
in his groin and he felt the beginning swell of erection in his penis. 

The caress of his mouth and hands ended almost as quickly as it had begun. 
For a stunned moment Jan wondered if she'd imagined it as Val continued to 
lead her to the bedroom. But the warm glow in the cleavage of her breasts 
and the sharp tingle in her nipples assured her she hadn't. And Val's arm 
around her waist had the power to send a shiver of excitement up her spine. 

Jan felt her legs slowly dissolving into unreliable underpinnings of India 
rubber as she walked across the room. Opening a drawer she searched-through 
the filmy layers of silk and lace more by touch then by sight as her eyes 
were drawn to Val's reflection in a mirror above the chest. The length of 
his hard-muscled figure was framed in the doorway, propped with a graceful 
negligence against the jamb. He'd removed his sports coat in the kitchen, 
and as she watched him now he slipped his tie through the knot and tossed it 
on a chair, then began working on the buttons of his shirt. It was a simple 
unhurried gesture, but Jan felt as though she were spying on some forbidden 
pagan ritual, and her eyes traveled down the mirrored image with an avid 
fascination. 

Val's heavy-lidded gaze had followed the enticing jiggle of her high rounded 
buttocks as Jan crossed the room. He marveled at gentle slope of her 
shoulders and supple curve of waist, the long tapered legs beneath those 
seductive hips. As she bent over the dresser the lush globes of her buttocks 
and deep separating crevice were clearly outlined by the stretch of thin 
cotton. 

His fingers fumbled at the last buttonhole as he caught the direction of 
Jan's stare in the mirror. He followed her gaze to the reflected bulge at 
the crotch of his pants. The knowledge that she was looking at his inflated 
cock sent the blood pounding through his veins. Deliberately flexing the 
swollen muscle he felt his prick give a sudden lunge until it was a 
towerlike point protruding at the taut constriction of material. 

Val's original intent had been to prolong the stimulation of pre-coitus 
excitement with a cat and mouse game. By the amethyst glitter of lust in 
Janet's eyes he knew that the hashish had her body highly aroused. But she 
exuded such an aura of unbridled, raw sexuality he feared he was losing 
control of his passion. What the hell, he groaned inwardly, I've got all the 
time in the world to play around later. 

He reached down and unzipped his fly and his prick swung forth massively, 
cleaving the air. Jan's quick gasp, almost a groan, hissed from her throat 
and he forced himself to remain where he was to study her reaction in the 
glass. 

Although her eyes had been glued on the blood-pressured protrusion between 
Val's legs, the deft motion of his fingers had been so rapid that in the 
flutter of an eyelid what had been a tweedy mound was now an up-thrust 
erection, a long thick column of white, pulsating flesh. 

As she straightened from the drawer her fingers gripped the swathe of 
apricot chiffon in her hands so tightly that her nails tore into the soft 
fabric. My God! It's so big! Her wayward senses darted back to the Club 
party when she'd held Val's massive penis in her hand and felt it struggling 
like a wild animal in her grasp. She remembered the feel of the bulbous 
head, the slippery smoothness of hot moist skin. A spark of remaining sanity 
in her drug-incited brain fought to cast out the lustful vision, but she 
found herself helpless in the grip of uncontrolled passion. The heat of 
desire flash-fired through her mind destroying all conscious thought, 
leaving nothing but a driving need for the phallic shaft that wavered before 
Jan's clouded vision like a swaying, blood-tipped snake. 

Jan's thighs pressed against the lower dresser to support her weaving body 
and Val heard the rending tear of silk in her hands as they twisted with a 
helpless fury. Their eyes met and held in the glass. He sauntered toward her 
with a rolling gait, almost the balancing stride of a man at sea. The 
muscular strength of his broad chest rippled from the open folds of his 
shirt and the great bulk of his prick was like a horizontal lever reaching 
out from his body, propelling him across the room. 

Jan read the naked desire burning in his eyes and somewhere deep within her 
she knew that she should move, should compel her body to turn and run as 
though she were fleeing for her very life. But she stood transfixed, rooted 
to the spot. Then Val's hands were at the nape of her neck kneading at the 
supple flesh and fumbling at the zipper of her dress, the nebulous thought 
of escape vanished as an exquisite sensation of trembling excitement washed 
through her. She felt a sudden rush of moist heat at the juncture of her 
legs. 

The blunt head of Val's prick brushing lightly across her buttocks was like 
a ball of fire that seared her flesh through the filmy skirt. She felt the 
zipper of her dress snaking open down her back and Val's hot breath fanning 
her exposed shoulders. With a fluid motion he peeled dress and panties 
downward as his lips traced a pattern of moist kisses from the nape of her 
neck to the warm hollow at the base of her spine. 

He felt an involuntary shiver of delight course through the silken column 
beneath his teasing mouth. Before rising from a half-kneeling position he 
flicked his tongue lightly in the furrow of her buttocks, and stroked the 
curve of her hips and thighs with his hands, as he slid her dress down 'til 
it fell to the floor. 

He was breathing heavily as he rose to his feet and fought down a sudden 
urge to ram his cock violently into the soft warm depths of the puckered 
anus that had quivered under his tongue. He took a rather grim satisfaction 
in being able to control the whirl of emotion in his loins. No, not that 
way. This first time he wanted to feel the soft fleshy folds of Jan's cunt 
grasping hungrily at his cock. The thought caused his stiff prick to nudge 
probingly between her tensed thighs and with his hands on her hips he pulled 
her roughly to him. 

The full weight of her soft resilient body pressed hotly into his taut 
frame. He ran his hands over the velvet texture of her belly then up the 
ripe fullness of her breasts. The creamy mounds surged into his fingers with 
a firm, eager thrust. He felt the soft globes of her buttocks grinding into 
his pelvis as the silky flesh of her inner thighs tightened to hold his 
distended cock in a heated tunnel of straining muscles. 

"Oh, Val, don't tease me, please," Jan whispered. 

It seemed to Jan that every nerve-end in her body was an exposed, needling 
jab of desire. 

Her pleading words had sounded like the voice of a stranger in her ears. 
This couldn't be Jan White, Scott's wife, begging to be taken and she 
wondered fleetingly why she felt no shame, only this fierce aching, hunger, 
this strange sensation of exquisite pain. She could feel her breath coming 
in short labored gasps and she rubbed her swollen breasts wildly back and 
forth against the tantalizing pressure of Val's kneading hands. 

She threw her head back and tried to twist around in his arms to bring his 
mouth to her open panting lips. The rock-hard pole of his penis between her 
legs was driving her crazy. 

If she couldn't have it soon she felt that she would go out of her mind. 

Val was watching the agonized writhings of Jan's lush body in the mirror 
with an almost detached lascivious enjoyment. Though he had to fight the 
rising passion incited by the straining warmth of her flesh on his, he took 
a sadistic pleasure in Jan's agony. For this was one method of retribution 
for her causing his premature ejaculation at the Inn. There would be others. 
Yet he knew he couldn't stand the pressure of her legs squeezing his prick 
much longer. 

His legs had been bent slightly at the knees and now he straightened to 
bring the round hardness of his prick in direct contact with the pulsating 
lips of Jan's vagina. He could feel a hot wetness enveloping the taut skin 
of his prick as the velvety folds expanded then contracted on his rigid 
column. The moist sucking grasp of her cunt sent a violent shudder through 
his body and he felt a churning weight in his balls. 

At the sudden thrust of his penis against the vulnerable ache between her 
thighs Janet turned into a tiger in Val's arms. With a violent wrench she 
managed to twist around to face him. Freed from the grasp of thighs his 
expanded cock sprang back in almost upward erection against his body. Her 
hands grabbed wildly for the rigid monster of lust-hardened flesh, but Val 
held her by the shoulders at arm's length with the biting fingers of one 
hand. 

With the other he slapped out with the palm then the back of his hand on 
either side of her face, not hard blows but stinging slaps that served their 
purpose. 

Jan shook her head like a wet terrier and stood staring at him like a 
bewildered child. But the gleam of madness left her eyes and she fought to 
suppress the unbridled lust that had caused her to lose all rationality. For 
a moment she cowered back against the dresser. 

The violence that had overwhelmed her melted into a thrillingly sensual 
passion. She stretched with the feline grace of a cat on the prowl and felt 
like she was floating on air as she went to the bed. 

The smooth satin coverlet was pleasantly cooling to her feverish flesh as 
she watched Val remove his clothing with hot, hungry eyes. The demented fear 
that he wouldn't fulfill her lustful craving was gone. Everything was gone, 
all thought, all prodding of her conscious mind. Nothing remained but the 
bright flame of desire, of anticipation of ecstasy. With a low moan she 
closed her eyes and her hips began to grind impatiently into the mattress. 

"Ready, darling?" 

Ready? Oh God yes... she was ready. The word rang a distant bell in her 
mind. She looked up to see Val at the side of the bed, the swollen shaft of 
his prick protruding over her breasts. She reached out. 

"I'm ready," she gasped. "Yes, yes! Fuck me... please... fuck me!" The lewd 
words tumbled breathlessly from her lips over and over as if by rote. 

Even as her hands were on his prick, stroking the thick cudgel and sending a 
streak of lightning through his loins as her fingertips circled the 
throbbing glans-tip, Val paused. 

Now where in hell did she come up with that obscenity ? Then he ceased to 
wonder as she raised up and pressed her lips to the fiery blood-filled head 
of his cock. 

She groaned with frustration as Val jerked away from her grasp. The sight 
and touch of the sensual curve of Jan's lips on the swollen gland had been 
so lewdly stimulating that he was strongly tempted to shove it into her 
mouth and force her to suck him off. But once again he decided first things 
first. 

Then she felt him hovering over her and his knees were between hers. She 
spread her thighs wide, and the moist pink flesh of her vagina opened to 
receive him like a flower to the morning sun. 

The sinewy hardness of his body covered hers and he could feel her writhing 
with uncontrolled abandon beneath him. He reached down with both hands and 
drew her unresisting thighs up the sides of his hips until the distended 
length of his prick rested hotly on the whole of her wet, throbbing vaginal 
slit. He held his breath as he felt the glossy cunt lips grasp eagerly at 
the underside of his rigid flesh. 

Jan dug the sharp points of her fingernails into his shoulders, and her legs 
tightened around him as she strained against him with a desperate frenzy. 
She tried to lever her body toward the head of the bed, to force the head of 
his penis into her open, waiting cunt, but the silken coverlet held her 
back. Her entire body was a yawning chasm of desire demanding fulfillment. 

Val's superior strength pinned Jan's helplessly struggling body beneath him 
until he couldn't stand the hot friction of her cunt rubbing along the hard 
length of his prick a minute more. Her punishment was rapidly becoming his 
as his blood-pressured cock throbbed with an agony of lusting passion. He 
shifted his weight and slipped his hands under the thrust of her buttocks. 

"Now... hurry... put it in!" he commanded against her mouth. 

He felt her hands urgently burrowing down between them and her fingers 
wrapped tightly around his prick. With a joyful moan she wriggled upward and 
pressed the sensitive tip of his cock into the pulsating lips of her vagina. 
The blunt head expanded against the tight elastic opening with a swift surge 
of increased desire. An unbearable pressure was building in his balls and he 
was in a hurry to sink it deep inside her soft yielding belly now. 

There was an involuntary withdrawal of the tender flesh as the bloated head 
began a slow, insistent prodding into her cunt. Then with an incoherent cry 
he rammed his cock into her with one long smooth stroke. He could feel the 
red-hot tunnel of her vagina engulf his prick with a warmth of exquisite 
moisture. 

As Val plunged his long cock in and out, deeper and deeper into the flaming 
nucleus of her body, Jan was lost in an endless whirl of ecstasy. In her 
wild race for fulfillment her thrusting pelvis rose and fell with the 
plundering rhythm of his cock. Without warning a violent shock of rapturous 
exultation held her momentarily suspended on the very brink of eternity. The 
world rocked crazily on it's axis around her as she was transfixed by the 
deafening spirit of ecstasy tolling it's icy and blazing chimes. Then she 
was caught in a spiraling vortex of joyous fulfillment she wanted to go on 
forever. 

The high-pitched scream she uttered seemed to be coming from some other 
woman far away as a torrent of liquid fire gushed from the depths of her 
womb. With a final taut expansion his swollen cock burst within her, 
shooting great jets of his sperm into the overflowing well of passion deep 
in her desperately quivering belly. 

 CHAPTER ELEVEN 

The following morning, after an instant's paralyzed confusion, Jan was 
awake. At once she longed for oblivion but light struck, the present 
impinged and the past struck a staggering blow. She lay drained and consumed 
with closed eyes. Light filtering through the heavy curtains was dim, but it 
probed her lids with a merciless brilliance. 

The breath caught in her throat as a sharp stab of panic hit her in the pit 
of her stomach. 

She was afraid to open her eyes, afraid to look at the other side of her 
bed. Hers - and Scott's. With trembling fingers she reached out and her hand 
slid over a flat, rumpled surface. She was alone. 

Consciousness, all the thousand cruel prods of awareness, refused to 
retreat. She remembered. She remembered the touch of Val's hands, the 
taut-muscled hardness of his body, the savagery of his plundering penis. But 
above all she remembered her own complete surrender to the lure of the 
flesh. No. It had been more, infinitely more than surrender. It had been a 
sensual joy, a savage exultancy that she wouldn't have believed possible to 
feel. 

The triumph of the night was gone. She lay there with the bittersweet gall 
of his sperm on her lips, felt it clogging every pour of her body, 
suffocating her. For during the seemingly endless orgy of passion he had 
rejoiced in subjugating her completely. He'd vented his lust in her mouth, 
between her breasts, in the depths of her anal passage. And - Oh, God - She 
had wallowed in the tidal wave of his sperm, devoured it hungrily, gloried 
in it! 

She wept for a long, long while, helplessly, hopelessly. But not all of her 
bitter tears could cleanse her mind of the anguish and guilt that burned 
like acid. When eventually the storm of weeping subsided she felt empty, yet 
filled with a forlorn and aching disgust. 

In the days and weeks to come Janet's memory of that first night with Val 
Wexler stretched back in a series of pictured incidents, like film stills, 
jerkily animating from one scene to another. The dew-dropped purple of Parma 
violets, which had withered and died by morning... The gourmet dinner, never 
eaten, dried and shriveled in the oven... The acrid, pungent smoke of 
hashish, wafted away on the summer breeze... All were but a pastel backdrop 
for the fiery orange blaze of violent coupling of cock and cunt. 

That image was printed indelibly on the retina of her mind. It wouldn't be 
allowed to dim or fade until Val grew tired of her. And he would. Just as 
Jan knew for a certainty that the invisible bonds of sexual thralldom that 
held her body bound to his with an inexorable force would someday unravel 
and let her escape. This was the only ray of light in the blackness of the 
evil lure that came from within her. 

Her days were an everlasting nightmare of remorse and dread. For both Betty 
and Marge, her only contact with society, were frequent visitors. And 
neither one would allow her to forget they had the power to ruin- all chance 
of any future happiness with Scott. 

Her nights were an obscene dream of lusting passion in Val's arms. Lulled by 
liquor or drugs, all thinking vanished in the pool of sex. A sickly hot 
longing would burst upon her out of nowhere, consuming all reason and shame. 
Their love-making was near to a savage conflict, stark with desire without 
love. Jan was slowly discovering that love and hate were truly related. 

When she first went to work at Jack's Cabin Inn she'd been pitifully 
vulnerable and naive, as well as being pressured by insurmountable tasks. 

Now in the loneliness of her days she was gradually made aware of the trap 
she'd stumbled into so guilelessly. For Marge seemed to take a sadistic 
pleasure in supplying any missing pieces of the puzzle she couldn't figure 
out herself. So although Val could still reach her through sex, her feelings 
towards him were slowly turning to hate. 

She felt that her soul had gone into a hiatus of deep mourning. But as time 
went by she sensed a loosening of the ugly ties that bound her and Val 
together. A tiny bud of burgeoning hope began to stir deep within. It was as 
though she were returning from the dead. Looking at the familiar and finding 
it oddly strange, and aware that it can never appear the same, or be the 
same. She knew that regret and guilt would be forever with her, but if she 
were allowed to keep Scott's love she would spend the rest of her life 
trying to be worthy of it. 

Her love for him had never faltered, but grown greater. And she knew, too 
that if everything that had happened had not happened, she would not be 
capable now of this depth and intensity of feeling and knowing. 


THE END
