Chapter 5

IT WAS A DULL SUNDAY. THE CAMPING trip was a thing of the past now, and Jerry and Pam took turns watching Jim and Sue, so they could each take a nap. They would be needing a rest, for Steve had invited them all to his place that evening. He had promised them a special treat, and no amount of pressure had succeeded in prying the secret out of him.

Pam was glad to be able to shut out any interference by a simple closing of the bedroom door. She dozed fitfully, her thoughts and dreams blending together into a jumbled version of Steve and the effect he was having upon her life. She was haunted by the fascination he held for her-and puzzled, too. Under ordinary circumstances, she wouldn't even have liked him; he wasn't charming, or especially handsome, either. Yet, she was drawn to him against her will. When Jerry's hitch was up, she got up to take over sentry duty. She forced herself to quit thinking about Steve. Admittedly, she was helpless to change anything, so she might as well go wherever her nature led her, and the hell with it.

The day dragged by somehow, and that night they arrived at Steve's bar in full force. By this time, they were all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed once again. Steve's apartment was separate from the bar, and they entered through an ordinary-looking door. As one unit, they stopped short, wondering if they had come to the right place.

"Wow! What a pad!" Bev exclaimed. "Why, you could hole up here for a year, and nobody could ever find you."

"That's the idea, dear girl." Steve leered wickedly at her. "I trap beautiful young virgins in here, and deflower them, as they say in the old country."

"Now I know I'm in the wrong place," Maggie muttered.

Everyone laughed at that, and the group began to feel at ease. Pam and Joan sat together on one of the many built-in couches that lined the walls.

"Well, let's get this show on the road," said Steve as he pressed a button on the wall. A section of paneling slid up to reveal a well-stocked liquor cabinet.

Pam and Joan both asked for martinis, and Pam was just sampling hers when Joan gave her a little dig with her elbow. "Well, I see Miss Universe is going to honor us with her company tonight."

Allison entered the room with a regal grace that came from long association with wealth and power. Pam whispered, "Maybe we're just jealous, do you suppose?"

"I don't know about you, but she'd make three of me. God! What I wouldn't give to have boobs like that!"

The tits under discussion pointed their way over to Steve, where Allison graciously accepted a drink; then she made her way to a seat, where she placed herself, looking composed and aloof.

After a suitable pause, during which the man paid silent tribute to Allison and her magnificent knockers, there followed much speculation regarding the big surprise.

"The natives are getting restless, I see," Steve whispered to Pam. "You're looking especially good to me tonight, Pam." She said nothing in reply, but the warm touch of his hand left an indelible mark on her shoulder.

Without further ado, Steve switched another button, and the TV set flickered into life. This brought forth a rumble of moans and groans. "You must be putting us on!"

"Yeah! We can watch TV at home," chimed in another voice.

But, when the star performers appeared, it became obvious that this was not just another TV program. This was the kind of stuff that would blow up many a picture tube, should anybody find a sponsor brave enough to support it.

On the screen, Allison was standing in front of a mirror, making preparations for bed. Her tall, statuesque body could be clearly seen through the sheer nightgown she was wearing. She seemed to be making a careful study of her body as she examined its lush contours, one by one.

Steve was sitting up in bed, wearing only the bottom half of his pajamas. He watched his wife as she fondly caressed her body. "Aren't I beautiful, darling?" she asked, squeezing her ample boobies together and pushing them up proudly for his appraisal.

"Look, Allison, how many times do you have to be told? You know you have a beautiful body. If you weren't so in love with it yourself, maybe you could spread it around a little bit."

She threw her head back and laughed. "Oh, it's too much for one man to handle; besides, Stevie dear, you just don't turn me on any more."

He shrugged, as though her comment was of no importance, but his eyes didn't miss the flash of inner thigh that was revealed when she crossed her legs. When her concentration was fixed on buffing her fingernails, he reached under his pillow and drew out a book.

The novel concerned a young man growing up in a predominantly female household, and as he read the erotic story aloud, a subtle change came over Allison. As the boy made one conquest after another, including the maid, his sister, and his aunt, Allison lost all interest in doing her nails. Gradually, her eyes took on a glazed look, and she slumped back in the chair.

Steve's voice droned on and on, eloquently describing the strange goings-on in that even stranger household. He resembled a spectator at a tennis match as he glanced back and forth from the book to his wife.

She closed her eyes to better appreciate the mental pictures that the story conjured up. Her legs spread apart, she lifted the hem of her nightie up around her waist, and her hand began its journey up the inside of her thighs. Steve's voice shook with excitement as he began to read faster, and he untied the rope that held the pajama bottoms on. The exploits of the young man in the story were having an obvious effect on him, too.

Allison squirmed around in the chair until her hand had captured the throbbing flesh between her legs. She lovingly rubbed and stroked her pussy, moaning faintly in the throes of desire.

Steve read a few more passages before tossing the book aside. "Come here, Allison," he said, his voice carrying the ring of authority.

Her eyes opened, and she rose to her feet as though in a dream. Her breasts were lust-swollen beneath the nightdress by this time, and the shirred material cupped them tautly, as though the garment had been designed for that purpose.

Steve stretched out on his back, his penis a quivering arrow of anticipation. When Allison reached the bed, she hiked the nightie up, bunching it firmly around her waist. Then she climbed over him, straddling his face with her lovely thighs and lying face downward along his body. The velvety softness of her tongue sent searing licks of flame along his hard-muscled belly.

He waited until her mouth had found its target before giving her the satisfaction she wanted. She hesitated a moment before plunging her lips over his big rod. and he pushed himself up to meet her. She obeyed the urgent thrust, he responded by jabbing his tongue into her burning crack. Then both came engrossed in their quest for pleasure.

When the skit was over, the men looked at Allison with new eyes, comparing her sluttish portrayal on the screen with the poised, unattainable image she usually presented.

Hails of acclaim came from every direction. "That was great."

"No commercials-nothing but good, clean sex."

"With sound effects, yet! How did you do it?"

Steve accepted their compliments graciously. "Well, it's simple enough. This is a video tape recorder that works on the same principle as a standard tape recorder. It does the same thing, only you aim the little TV camera where you want it, and start the tape rolling. When you're finished, you get an instant playback."

The men questioned him about some of the technical aspects, and he explained that their present TV sets could be converted, with some modifications.

"I thought we could put on some plays and ad-lib some of the dialogue. Then we can make up duplicate tapes for each member of the club."

"I always knew I was cut out to be a movie star," Bev enthused. "Let's all get outfits of our own, so we can swap tapes and build up a collection." .

The ladies browsed through the selection of play scripts that were piled on a table, trying to find the roles that best suited their needs. They were all anxious to see themselves on the silver screen, even if the film would never make the theaters.