Chapter 7
Rod felt that Olga had given him good advice, and after napping most of the afternoon, he awoke to find himself ravenously hungry. Since Olga prided herself on being the "hostess with the mostest," there was even a twenty-four hour kitchen on the premises which could turn out anything from ham and eggs to a fancy French dish.
"The thickest steak you've got," he ordered from Bella the cook and maid, "and make it rare!"
He ate the steak with relish, finished with three cups of coffee, ice cream for dessert, ignoring, for the most part Vince's and Ken's jocular conversation as they gave Bella their usual hard time trying to get her to let them fuck her. Then remembering the paperback novel that even at the moment lay up in his room, he became impatient to return.
Still, despite the gripping quality of the novel, the slam-bang, the early appearance of the meddling, stupid Zachary, Rod found it hard to concentrate. He couldn't get the image of Olga's sly grin out of his mind, as she'd brought up the subject of tonight's appointment. Nothing abnormal, she'd promised. Just "weird." That was the exact word she'd used. Weird? But what? God knew he'd run into weird things during the past few days. But even so, how weird can a thing be that it must be fore-warned? Certainly Olga, or anybody else for that matter, had never accorded him this courtesy before.
And torn between two desires, Rod finally put a Matter of Conscience aside. It wouldn't be right to read the book while his thoughts were so troubled. He had to give it full attention if he was to judge if fairly.
And he sat in his chair, sipped at a Scotch and water. Until Bella came to tidy up his room.
Again he drank and reflected, tried to quell the growing apprehension he felt. But the harder he fought to put the uncertainty and wonder aside, the more nagging it became. He glanced at his watch. Nine fifty. Time had never passed so slowly.
Then, at exactly ten o'clock, as Rod was giving himself a last-minute inspection at the bathroom mirror, his bell sounded, with alarming loudness. He moved hesitantly to answer its summons.
His surprise, as he opened the door to find the portly, medium-tall man standing there, left him totally speechless for at least thirty seconds. The doorknob seemingly froze in his fingers. This must be some kind of a joke. A man? Certainly Olga doesn't expect me to suck a prick. There's a damn limit, after all.
"Mr. Bradley?" the man said politely. "I have come to the right room, haven't I? May I come in?"
"Yes," Rod said. Regaining some small composure, "I'm Rod Bradley. Excuse me. Of course, come in."
Fastidiously the man entered, chose his chair carefully. Evaluating his bearing, the expensive, hand tailored suit, the imported shoes he wore, Rod saw wealth written in the visitor's very move.
Now the man waved his hand in a mildly imperious way, regarded Rod intensely. "Sit down, please, Mr. Bradley. I have a few things to say. And they'd best be said while we're both sitting in a civilized manner."
"I'm sorry," Rod apologized. It's just that I wasn't expecting..."
"A man? Never fear on that score, I'll only be here a few minutes." He colored slightly and averted his eyes. "Though, granted, they may be the toughest few minutes of my entire life. He paused again. "I hardly know where to start."
"Maybe you'd like a drink?" Rod offered.
"No, thank you. This had best be taken care of without liquor." Now he blocked his shoulders, faced Rod squarely.
"You've been recommended, Mr. Bradley, as an experienced and very sensitive-ah... fucker. And with that understanding, I've come to ask a very personal favor from you. A favor I intend to pay well for."
"Yes?" Rod said, his pulse drumming in his ears.
Then the man dropped his bombshell. "I'm asking you to make love to my daughter. She's seventeen, a virgin. I want you to break her cherry."
Rod sat transfixed, a tornado of disbelief whistling in his head. "You what?"
"You heard correctly, Bradley. I meant every word I said. And now, before you take me as a crackpot, or perhaps some sort of monster, let me explain my reasons for bringing my daughter here tonight."
"Your daughter? She's here? Now?"
"Correct. Downstairs, in Miss Innstrom's suite. Now, if I may continue..."
Some of Rod's astonishment faded, was replaced with skepticism, even cynicism. This must be a gag or something. It was beyond the bounds of belief, an unreal, hazy dream. Men don't just walk in and ask you to fuck their daughters.
"Yes, go ahead. By all means."
"Ina's become quite interested in boys. It seems to be all she can think of lately. And I'm afraid that one of these days, her curiosity's going to get the best of her, and she's going to let herself be screwed by one of them. It's the first order of business nowadays, I understand.
"And rather than have Ina get pregnant by some crud, I feel it would be best if she were indoctrinated correctly and safely, without any risk of unsavory entanglements. I feel that if she knows what real physical love is as practiced by a mature, experienced man, if she senses the exquisite joy of such a thing done right, she's not so apt to be sneaking around in the back seats of parked cars, fucking with every hound that comes along.
"That with proper guidance on my part-Ina's mother's dead-shell be content to wait until she's older, to wait for married love, as conferred by some mature, balanced, and proficient man."
"How do you know that a thing like this won't trigger her desire? That she wont experiment all the more?"
"That's a chance I have to take. As I've said, I'll try to guide her. She's very broad-minded, we talk quite frankly about things. She knows why she's here, we've discussed it at length. She's willing to go through with it. I've told her that her first encounter with the physical act of love should be a sublime, perfect thing, and adventure not to be taken lightly, not to be squandered on a blundering, clumsy juvenile. What you do to her, the way you screw her, will serve as criterion against which she can compare any future lovers."
"Thus, you see, it has to be done right."
Well, I'll be dipped... Rod thought, his mind boggling at the concept, not sure himself whether he agreed with the man's progressive philosophies on child rearing or not. And more than that, he felt a stomach churning uncertainty. Can I make myself really a cherry-breaker? With a scared little teen-age? With a kid?
"Are you sure?" Rod asked. "Positive you want me do this? With your daughter?"
"Quite sure, Mr. Bradley," he said peevishly. "I don't appreciate having my motives questioned. The only reason I'm bothering to explain the underlying philosophy of this deed is so you'll know what I'm expecting of you."
He stiffened. "Now the question is, will you do it?"
For a moment Rod was on the verge of refusing. Then he thought that if he refused, the man would certainly find someone else to impose his warped ideas on his daughter, some other man would be five hundred dollars richer. And why shouldn't I have the money? I can do the job, as well as anybody else. If this's the way the world's made, who am I to try changing it?
Still his hands shook, he was forced to clutch his knees as he replied. "Yes, I'll do it. I'll do my level best to indoctrinate your Ina, to teach her about things as you outlined. Send her up, please."
At the last the man hesitated pathetically in the doorway. "You'll be good to her, won't you?"
"Yes, I'll be good to her," Rod said.
It seemed the top of Rod's head would blow off, would be sent flying in a thousand shards of boy shrapnel, as he waited for Ina to appear. Then at last, his heart feeling like an abruptly swelling soccer ball in his chest, he heard the buzzer sounding.
He panicked as he looked at the reticent, shamefaced child who stood before him. Oh, God, he thought, I can't go through with this. I just can't. Not with this innocent kid. But if these were his thoughts, his actions belied them. For he said, "Come in, won't you, Ina?"
And the girl stepped across that invisible threshold. Entering a child, to leave a woman.
She was a pretty thing, perhaps five-three, her body mature and ripe already at seventeen, her hair sandy-colored, done in a bouffant mass about her ears. She was dressed in a chiffon print, a lovely, expensive gown which flattered her young figure. She wore nylons, her feet were encased in black, patent pumps, the heels medium height. More unsettling: The white gloves she wore, the tiny black purse she carried.
A little girl all decked out for an important date.
And Rod cringed inwardly at the task that lay before him. How would he ever see it through?
"Hi," She said softly, not daring to look him in the eyes, saving her attention for the room, visibly impressed with the modern decor. "This's real snazzy. My dad says your name's Rod. That right?"
"That's right, Ina. Rod it is."
She laughed timidly, her large, doe-eyes turning up to him. "Sure, Rod." She lapsed into silence. "Well, what's new? I mean; gee-I don't know what to say. I mean, knowing what's going to happen..."
"Don't say anything if you like. Ina. Well get to know each other in a bit. Why don't you sit over here?" He moved to the control panel. "You like music?" Instantly the room was invaded by silky strings.
"Hey, that's keen," she said. "Wow, they sure have things fixed up nice up here. A dump downstairs. This's the first time I've ever been in a place like this."
"I should hope so," Rod joked softly.
"Yeah, I guess."
Rod debated about giving Ina something to drink, finally decided her father would probably approve, and quickly mixed a medium-sized Manhattan for her, going heavy on the vermouth.
She smiled delightedly. "Gee, real grown up."
"My first real drink. Once in a while my dad gives me a sip, but never the whole glass.
"Drink hearty, dear. It'll help us to get over the rough edges. You'll feel more at ease after that."
"You don't have to baby me. I'm not afraid. I know what happens. I read about it in a book once. I won't be a drag about it, I mean."
Rod smiled, felt immeasurable pity at the dredged up bravado. The poor kid isn't fooling anybody, he thought. He took another Scotch himself, realizing he needed a nip as bad as she did. Then he went around the room, turning out lights, merely dimming others. Until the small parlor was even more cozy and intimate.
Now he returned to Ina, sat close, made small talk, tried to gain confidence. Which was no easy task, he discovered just how great a gap nine years can become. But there were movies, he knew some of the rock tunes. And little by little they found common ground.
He gave Ina a little more of the diluted Manhattan remaining in the shaker, turned out still another lamp. When he sat beside her this time, he put his arm around her, drew her close. She trembled a little, yet feigned flippancy. "Smooth, man," she said a shaky voice. "You really come on, don't you?" Her voice betrayed her.
"Drink up, Ina. You'll feel better in a little while."
"Better? Any better, and I'll be sailing around the room. That stuffs making me all sizzy and funny feeling inside."
It was then that Rod chose to kiss her, drawing the slight, complaint body up gently, letting his lips drift down to hers. She stiffened, but as their lips touched, she breathed deeply, went limp. And Rod was astonished the smallness of her mouth, at the passive softness. Lord, he thought, the kid doesn't even know how to kiss. And I'm supposed to teach her to fuck?
The Manhattan had done its work well. For as he continued the kiss, to embrace and whisper soft love words into her ears, she gradually became aroused, she answered his kisses more fervently, she shuddered and pushed her body tighter to his. "Oh, Rod," she said finally, "this is wonderful. I feel so good. I could do this all night. Again. Kiss me like that again."
Until cautiously he let his hand slide off her shoulder, let it settle and cup her. Slowly, ever so slowly, he began to caress and squeeze the taut, firm swelling. Ina froze momentarily, then relaxed, fell back into his arms. "That's part of it too," she murmured. "Is it time already? I mean-
"Yes, Ina." he whispered. "Soon now."
"Yeah," she breathed. "I guess. I'm getting all wild. Is that what's supposed to happen?"
"Yes, baby," he said, letting his hand venture more boldly, feeling a rising anticipation inside him at her ingenuous description of her mounting passion. This was going to be so different, so vastly different.
"That's nice," she ventured timidly. "That feels real nice."
Moments later he'd carried her to the bed, laid her upon the sheets, again marveling at the smallness of her body. "Should I-get undressed?" she asked. He nodded and then he extinguished the remaining lights.
When he came to her in the darkness he was already naked. And despite all his efforts to control himself, to be blase about what should have been a routine screw, he still found himself trembling in wracking spurts of anticipation. Thank God Olga took care of some of my sperm this afternoon, he mused. Otherwise I'd be out of control.
The wonder of the first fuck became more stunning. Rod recalling now how magnificent the discovery of love was the first time around, awestruck at the momentousness of the act now at hand. He remembered another girl, a girl named Anne who'd shown him the reverent wonder of first fucking love.
He undressed Ina with painstaking care, fighting her instinctive modesty at every turn, peeling down her stockings, stroking her legs, removing her brassiere, amazed at the child's large breasts, at the surge of rapture that speared her as he kissed her.
The child was gasping and moaning and falling in wanton lust. Her hoarse sighs grew even louder. Until Rod knew that she was beyond pain and alien fear now, that no matter how great the pain, she would suffer it gladly, as she twisted and turned more uncontrollably. Quickly and almost effortlessly, his huge prick broke through the cherry. She moaned and shuttered but was too far in ecstasy to notice any pain.
"I feel all crazy inside," she wailed. "Please, Rod, fuck me now."
Now he held her in his arms, kissed her passionately, his tongue flicking into her mouth, hers instinctively gliding forth to meet it.
"Yes," she rasped. "Yes. Go ahead, Rod. Do what you want with me. I want you to screw me no matter what."
He rammed his cock all the way into her tight newly-opened cunt. Her cunt sheath was so tight and clinging around his ten-inch dong, he had to contain himself from shooting off his load. She screamed in ecstasy, but after a time she fell silent, her screams drowned out by the gasping, choking sighs of delight. The ecstasy blocked out everything else. And yet, Rod knew, it would be a failure for her, unless she learned how to fuck.
"You have to help, Ina," he said in muffled tones. "Or else my prick won't respond..."
"Yes, yes," she raged, understanding instantly what was needed. "I will, I will."
"Hurry, baby," he gasped. "Hurry, hurry..."
"I never dreamed it would be anything like this. It's wonderful, I don't ever want it to stop. I want you to keep fucking me... "She screamed, lurched. "Fuck me, fuck me...
It seemed Ina would never stop gasping as they both came simultaneously.
When she finally dozed off for a while, Rod though that he had earned his money a lot easier than he thought he would.
As Ina awoke she said, "Kiss me again, Rod," and boldly tongued him, fondling his ass at the same time. "More, more prick Rod! she urged, pressing her rounded belly and young breasts against his chest and thighs.
Desire stirred again in his prick and Ina saw the throbbing of his huge cock with a gleam in her eyes. Suddenly she whipped over him straddled his middle and boldly guided him between her moist engulfing asscheeks. Her enthusiastic fucking quickly made him join her in a common height of passionate "come" he didn't think he had in him.
He was really earning his money...