Chapter 2
Kurt Reichard wore a look of managerial austerity as he walked the narrow corridor leading from his office to the front desk and the operations center of The Buccaneer. It was easy to spot the unhappy guest among the others at the long counter. The woman's finger was jabbing angrily at the little map of the resort grounds.
". . . and I won't stand for it, at twenty-eight dollars a day!" she snapped at the desk clerk as Reichard approached.
"We have a problem?" Kurt asked softly.
"Are you the manager?"
He nodded. "Yes, I am. How may I help you?"
"By getting me away from that noisy motor next to three-twenty, that's how!" she snorted. "I didn't come here to listen to that all night and I..."
"Of course you didn't," Kurt interrupted. He looked at the card rack of twenty-eight-dollar rooms.
"Not one left," murmured the clerk.
"Give our friends four-twenty-eight," Kurt said, pointing to the thirty-five-per-day rack. He smiled as he looked across the counter at the woman. "I think you'll be pleased here, madam, and thank you for telling us about the motor. Our central air system is under repairs and that unit next to your room is the faulty one. The Buccaneer is very sorry about your discomfort."
"Hhmmpph! ... Well, I should hope so, at these prices!"
"You'll be very comfortable, I'm sure." Kurt turned quickly to go back to his office. Over the plumpness of the stocky complainant's shoulder he had seen an approaching vision of loveliness: Julia was coming with her report of her meeting with
Sherman Wilson.
He hurried across his office to the picture window, which looked down on the flagstone walk below. She appeared to be totally unaware of her maddening sexuality as she hurried happily toward the side entrance of the administrative offices. The girl might be young and innocent and everything else that his first interview with her had suggested, but she seemed radiantly ready to be led from the prison of her adolescence. Kurt felt the grab at his groin as he stared at her superbly stacked figure. She would come through his door in less than a minute, and it was going to take some super restraint to hold back the hunger. He might just make his pitch right there.
Her micro-mini bounced lightly as she moved, and Kurt saw two male guests pass her, then do a U-turn to watch her retreating figure. Reichard was sure they never had seen a sleeker body. Her legs held his own attention at the moment. He gaped at the smooth rise of her thighs, the sleek taper of the calves. Again the tiny skirt bounced and the place where her thighs met was almost visible.
"Someday, very soon!" he promised himself as he turned to his desk to await her knock at his door.
Julia promised to be a needed challenge in a life that had grown dismal for Reichard. Every day he reminded himself that at thirty he should be one of the proudest of innkeepers in America. Emigrated from Germany six years before, he possessed the credentials of a thorough training on the continent. There, in any situation similar to The Buccaneer Inn and Resort, the manager was a true professional. Yet here in Myrtle Beach he was nothing but professional lackey.
The respect had been shot to hell with fake credit cards and non-appreciative tourists who stole silly things like ash trays from their rooms, and menial jobs that other staff members buck-passed to the manager. like the complaining guest the desk clerk should have handled without calling for his decision.
Five years ago The Buccaneer with its 500 rooms, with its three dining rooms, its convention center and pools and physical-therapy rooms, had seemed a challenge worthy of his training. Now Reichard was bored and trapped and wanted his freedom. It was on the day he was preparing his letter of resignation for Sherman Wilson that Julia Cochran came to his office to ask his help in her special project. The girl actually wanted a career as a lady innkeeper! Reichard fought an urge to laugh hysterically. And then, as he listened to her fierce earnestness and felt the total naivete of this incredibly lovely girl, the compulsion gripped him.
She could be the answer to his own imprisonment. He realized Julia herself was caught in the trap of hoked-up principles that a frustrated world had shoved on her as right and wrong. What a chance! Break her out of that prison and show her what living is all about!
"Come in!" he called as she knocked at the door.
"He said YES!" squealed Julia, dancing excitedly across the room to stand in front of Kurt's desk. "I can start Monday and I'll be in housekeeping at first."
Kurt's face fell. "A chambermaid? Did you tell Mister Wilson I suggested the front desk?"
Julia giggled. "I think he thought I was too big for my britches. Anyway, I'm excited and he said you'll be a fine one to teach me the business."
The lecherous old son-of-a-bitch! thought Reichard. He knew of Wilson's playmate and it had occurred to Kurt that Vivien might stand in the way of her employment. Now he felt a new suspicion that Sherman Wilson might already have hot nuts for his mistress' daughter.
"Well, that's fine," he said aloud. "At least you're starting. Did you find Mister Wilson at the pool?"
Her blonde hair bounced as she nodded. "I think I shocked him, walking right into his cabana without an appointment-and wearing that gold bikipi."
"It was exactly right, I'm sure," Kurt reassured her, rising and circling the desk. "Julia, I'm pleased-and I'm displeased for you at the same time."
"Why could you be displeased?" She turned to face him and his hands clasped her waist paternally.
"You're getting into an earthy, rough business. You're going to meet some strange sorts of people and you're going to be on your own. You may even find me very strange sometimes."
"But you're very busy, and you have a right to be strange sometimes. Anyway, I owe you so much already for helping me." Julia stepped close and impulsively threw her arms around him in an enthusiastic hug of gratitude. The contact of their bodies caught the man completely off guard. In the few minutes she had been in his presence, his penis had stretched and stiffened in a throbbing bar of steel tenting against his pants. Now she was against him and the concealment of his jacket did no good. Her lush form was momentarily cemented and there was no concealing the evidence as he felt the pressure flatten his outspoken hard-on in a painful diagonal across his gut.
Some fantastic urge ripped his self-control as he felt the electricity of her contact. Without saying a word, he tightened his hands at her hips and dragged her even more tightly against the fiercely swollen barrel of his stony prick. He felt her eyes suddenly wide and frightened, stare into his, but for the moment he was beyond caring. She was the first female he had wanted to touch in months. The transient-brand broads who flipped for his muscled body when he appeared around the pool or in the massage rooms bored him hopelessly. None of the staff of more than two hundred ... none of the guests ... no one till this almost unbelievably beautiful child-woman.
"Please!" Her plea was very low and tremulous and she squirmed against the monumental hardness which ground across the front of her skirt.
"One minute!" he barked. "Do you know what you're feeling?"
The moisture at the corner of her eye became a tear moving slowly down her cheek. She nodded. "I do," she whispered, wishing he would squeeze her even tighter and scolding herself for the wish.
"I want you to tell me the truth, Julia Cochran. Have you ever felt a man like this before?"
"No." She leaned toward him, easing her body tension as she shook her head.
"Trust me?"
She nodded.
"I said this is an earthy business. If you start as a chambermaid, you're going to meet types you wouldn't dream existed. And some of them are going to try to misbehave with this."
She shuddered against him.
"Does it frighten you?" he asked.
Julia's thoughts tumbled helter-skelter. Stern, moralistic teachings of the sisters and blunt warnings of her mother flooded her mind and were immediately overridden by the blunter demands of her love-starved body. An incredible need whipped her as she struggled for the right answer to his question about fear.
She was terrified! That gigantic length grinding against her belly was like nothing she had imagined. One of the wilder set at St. Mary's had told her a big man might be eight inches when he was aroused. Kurt Reichard must have something wildly abnormal in his male equipment!
Something whispered inside Julia that it would-likely be the only time she would be near the man like this, busy and self-controlled as he normally was, and she could hurt his feelings if she ran like a terrified doe.
"I don't want to be frightened," she whispered. "I guess I am, though."
"No need to be." She felt one of his hands slip from her hip and creep between their bodies. His fingers were working at the zipper of his pants! Her heart raced furiously. Burrowing her face under his chin, she squeezed her eyes shut. She was certain he was doing what he thought best for her, but it was terribly wrong of him.
"D ... don't!" she protested, hearing the whisper of the zipper and feeling his fingers move down as he opened his pants.
"Hold very tight and don't be afraid of me," he commanded in a firm but gentle voice. "I'm not going to do what you're thinking, but I want you to know something about men."
She felt the heat and the massive hardness at the same instant as Reichard dragged the hungry cock from the confines of his pants. Deftly he flipped the lower edge of her mini-skirt and let the turbulent shaft soar and thump against the scant cover of her panties. It felt so huge and alive and ... and so very hot against her tummy. In spite of herself, Julia opened her eyes to try to see what was happening. He backed slightly from their contact and she felt his hand drive between them again, seize the organ and pull it from under her skirt.
"See!" he hissed. "Look at it!"
Her head tilted as she obeyed, and then gasped.
She stared at the thick, glistening crown of the cock as Reichard gripped himself and aimed the weapon at her face. She gawked at the monstrous, dark-chestnut rod and a droplet crept into sight through what appeared a winking eye at the very center.
"Hold it!" he commanded again, seizing her hand and guiding it to the barrel. "Ohhh ... please, Mister Reichard."
"DO IT!" he thundered.
The instant her fingers closed around the shaft and she felt the frantic hardness of the bone inside and the baby-like softness of the outer layer of skin, Julia was sure she was going to faint. It's so totally grotesque, yet beautiful. He stepped back as she held him and the action made the phallus shift straight out from his front and she had full view of the total hard-on. The man had a monster attached to his body! Gorgeous, luscious, edible monster!
She had the overwhelming urge to drop on her knees before this miracle and take it into her mouth. Suck and chew and eat the man alive. Lust and guilt flailed her simultaneously and she felt her head go light and her vision blurred.
"Julia, you all right? Julia!" cried a distant voice. Slowly, focus returned and she looked up into Kurt Reichard's agonized face. "Thank heavens!" he cried.
"Wh ... what happened?" she asked, her fingers finding the edge of a couch.
"You passed out-and I'm damned sorry. I'm completely responsible, and I'm a jackass."
She lay quietly for a few minutes then sat up quickly as she remembered the seconds before she fainted. "I'm all right now," she said. Then she looked directly into his eyes. "But I'm such a baby!"
"You're no baby. Don't you remember a thing?
I thought I saw you start to come to once."
Julia shivered and stood up. "All I remember is holding your ... your ... and then my head was spinning ... and then nothing. Please, may I go now?"
He grabbed her elbow to steady her. "Tell me the truth. Are you angry?"
There was a pause and she turned away from him toward the door as she spoke. "I'm not angry, Mister Reichard. You were showing me something you thought I should know about. I ... I. . . ohhh!" She dashed for the door and hurried from the room.
"Reichard, you dumb shit head!" he muttered as he stood near the window drape watching her walk down the flagstone. Her step was much less confident than that of the Julia he had watched approach his office. He grimaced and slammed his fist into his palm at the way the unplanned caper had come off. It had been close and he had acted like a damned sex maniac. The gal had really got to him.
He wondered if Julia had been truly unconscious those fifteen minutes? Or had she lied to put him at ease with his afterthoughts? She couldn't have been really out that long! Now his behavior bugged him. He had really gone bananas at the sight of her stretched out before him like that. He'd flipped out of his skull from the minute he felt her body press against his cock. Right then and there he was committed to a conquest that till now he hadn't been sure was for him. Now he knew. She had driven him to the point of tossing all reason to the winds and taking it any way he could. Lord, it had been close!
Kurt stared at his desk, then bent to pick up the application form which had Julia's picture in the upper left corner. He studied her face absent-mindedly for a moment, then, shaking his head, opened the bottom drawer of his desk.
"Sweet Julia," he sighed as he dropped the photo and employment form into his private file. I want you wide awake when we make it, little girl! You don't even know what you almost got. Or do you?
Julia did. Her heart pounded furiously all the way back to her parents' apartment, and without acknowledging her father's drunken "halloo" from the kitchen, she ran directly to her bedroom. There, sprawled on her side on top of the bed, arms hugged across her middle, she relived that wonderful/awful trauma on the floor of Reichard's office. She hadn't been out for more than a few seconds, but as her consciousness returned, just as the room came back into focus, her eyes barely opened, she had seen IT.
IT was attached to Kurt Reichard, but that made no difference. The great quivering, iron flesh he'd made her hold was soaring directly above her and its owner was standing spread-legged directly across her hips, gaping at the place where her thighs met. He spoke and his words told her Reichard had completely lost control of himself.
"Spread 'em, baby!" she could still hear his choking rasp. "You've gotta start living!"
What followed was something Julia never would have believed possible in such a soft-spoken, well-organized man as the manager of The Buccaneer. Not in Reichard, or in any man. So indecent! So immoral! Such a disgusting-but gorgeous-thing to do to an unconscious woman! She shuddered involuntarily. She hadn't been entirely unconscious. She could have opened her pretty brown eyes and screamed her head off if she had wanted to.
But the state he had been in! He'd been unaccountable for himself. Panting, gagging, dropping to his knees and straddling her ankles. Kissing along her calves and across her knees, then straight up along the line where her thighs pressed together. . . straight to the hem of her skirt and ... oh, the boldness of the animal! She could still feel his mountainous shaft banging her legs as he crawled forward. Her skirt had been lifted from her legs and thrown upward. Such a terribly helpless position he had put her in. Then he was kissing again and his lips were at the very edge of her panties. She heard him moan and all at once she felt a stiff prong stabbing against the panties, low on her mound-as far as he could reach with her legs pressed together that way. It had-been a bestial, but beautiful, shock to realize suddenly that the prong was his tongue. Reichard was trying to kiss her cleft!
Oh, the awful dorm words that flooded back! But what else to describe it? The man was trying to reach her most secret place. Whatever the millions of "no-no's!" ever said about other sex things, they would certainly condemn a man trying to put his lips to a girl's cunt. But now as she lay on her bed, Julia knew she would always remember the sweet hunger of that man's tongue.
It was what he did next that was too much. She should have stopped him. He was straddling her thighs in frustration and she could feel the smoothness of his pants against her skin.
"Look at that!" He barked the words at the second he shoved his penis hard against the valley of her thighs. He trapped himself there, then leaned back till she felt that hot muscle snap loose. "Crazy!" he snarled, doing it again and again. It was an unbelievable feeling to lie there and have that flesh tower pressed in and out of her legs. She wondered if it would satisfy him.
Her next sensation was almost the last her self-control could stand. His hands were at the upper edge of her panties and he dragged downward quickly, and very sure of himself. It was all she could do to keep her eyes squeezed shut. She knew she should scream. Years of honor and lady-like purity were at the edge of the cliff. But she simply
"Sweet Julia!" he panted. "I. . . oh God, I want it!" He was kneeling his way forward and she felt the tickle of her panties at her knees. She was absolutely sure he was going to spread her legs and do that awful thing and she was too completely paralyzed to fight him. Surely she would have tried to fight the monster if she could! But a hot, spreading knob was jabbing right at the very base of her mound. He WAS going to ... tooo...! NO! Thank God, he missed the opening. Then he was thrusting, driving, humping and his cock was rubbing wild friction against her cunt lips and the inner muscles of her thighs as he ramrodded himself downward. He was pretending-making believe he was having intercourse. But the make-believe was sending crazy lightning bolts through her body, filling her empty love tunnel with sensations she never had imagined came with being female. Her head was light, and even with her eyes closed, everything seemed to be swimming.
His gasping turned quickly to short, ragged breathing then abruptly to wild little cries of happiness. Simultaneously his body seemed to go totally rigid and then that wonder of wonder! Warm, explosive bolts of frenzied cum shot out of control against her clasping thigh muscles and she knew at once what had happened. Kurt Reichard had reached orgasm and was ejaculating everything he had wanted to put up her body, but outside where it couldn't harm. Such a man! He could have raped her! Julia knew she never would have had the strength to resist such a powerful man.
And now on her bed and alone, the truth began to needle her conscience. She had the strength-if she had wanted to, she could have clamped her thighs and locked her ankles and he never would have been able to pretend.
You're a hypocrite, Julia! she accused the emptiness of her bedroom. You liked it, but it was wrong!
Even as she lectured herself, her fingers drifted to the tender tissue at her cunt gates. The friction of that horny shaft grinding back and forth had sensitized every nerve in her lower body. She toyed with the soft flesh and then her fingers drifted further. The clitty muscle was as turgid as Reichard's own penis and she strummed it as she murmured over and over the name he'd cried when he exposed her love center..."Julia! ... Julia!"
Her teasing strokes intensified as she remembered that other man. Sherman Wilson, too, had nearly lost all his control when she was with him at the pool. He had been masturbating himself when she looked down from the high board.
Two males like that in one day! More near-disasters in a few short hours than in all the eighteen years she had lived before. What awful power a man has! All the teachings, even from her mother, warned it was sin-power. There must be special strength for her somewhere.
"Help me!" she begged the silent room as her finger-play quickened. A carefree feeling swept through her body as the orgasm warnings tingled. Her wrist pressed hard against her thighs and it felt something the way Kurt's phallus had felt grinding on her outside. Then rapture flooded her body and a helpless little cry of ecstasy spilled from her lips.
She lay unmoving for long moments after her climax had faded. So much felt right about the glorious emotion that had grabbed and possessed her for heavenly seconds.
I mustn't! She moaned into her pillow. Mustn't!