Chapter 11

Paula knew that the girls would have liked to have had a frigging session that evening, especially Pat. Even though she had pleaded a headache, and told them to run along she couldn't lie to herself.

Her problem was that she had come to the island home of her old sex companion, the only woman who had ever dominated her, Michele Duval. She had to face up to the fact that Michele was still part of her thinking. Perhaps it would do her good to admit to herself that she had come here because Michele was here-that she actually wanted to see the beautiful Michele Duval again.

No sooner said than done. Hastily donning sweater and shorts, Paula got started. In front of Michele's place, she hesitated in nervous apprehension, then gathered her courage and went inside on trembling legs.

A girl introduced herself as Yvette and told her that the mistress of the house was busy at the moment. But if Miss Jardine would go up to the suite and wait, she was sure that Michele would be along shortly.

In Michele's boudoir, Paula poured a stiff drink and slugged it down. It steadied her and she filled the glass again. From downstairs she could hear blatant noises of revelry-and of hump pleasures less hilarious but just as keen. Some of the squealing sounds appalled her and she swallowed the whiskey in great gulps.

But it didn't help much. With her head starting a slow spin, the old fear burst out anew and shattered her nerve. Paula set the drink down and made for the door, no longer able to face the tyrannical Michele.

Too late!

Before she could reach it, the door swung open and Michele entered. In a form-fitting evening gown, the woman had evidently been supervising her place of business. Flushed and perspiring, she nodded a greeting and dropped into a chair.

"So it's you," she said bluntly. "And high time, too.

Paula, why haven't you come to see me?"

"-I-"

"Never mind. I'd rather not listen to excuses. Fix me a drink, will you? Scotch, straight."

Again Paula was tempted to march right out the door. Michele was so overbearing. Yet there was something fascinating about her imperious manner. Although she was only of medium height, Michele radiated power and authority. Paula's resentful misery was interlaced with threads of excitement.

Anyway, she needed another drink. She fixed Michele's and replenished her own. Now she would face the woman bravely and get rid of the fear that had nagged her for so long. After tonight she would be free.

Michele took her drink and sipped it. "Good. Not that it takes much talent to pour booze. Still, you do have other talents if I remember rightly."

"Talents?"

"You know what I mean. Talents that I once appreciated. I expect to appreciate them again."

"Michele, I didn't come here to-"

"Be quiet. Listen to me. It doesn't matter what you came for. You're here now and that's all that counts. I don't even care to discuss it Right now all I'm interested in is getting out of this dress. Come help me."

Paula's reaction was automatic. Then, halfway to the woman's chair, she stopped. But the alcohol was a pit of fire in her stomach and it was burning her resolution and reducing it to a heap of ashes. Her brain reeled. Her body swayed. A moment later she was doing Michele's bidding.

"Paula, you're drunk."

"Yes. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. I'm glad you're drunk. As a matter-of-fact, I like you that way." Michele lifted herself from the chair and let her gown slip away. "You probably feel better than I do right now. I'm tired. My feet hurt."

"It's these shoes." Paula knelt and pulled the stilt-heeled pumps off. In sympathy, she kneaded the nylon-clad feet with her hands for a moment.

"Mmmmm, I love that." Michele's tone was throaty. 'Take my stockings off and do it some more."

Paula's fingers quivered as they gazed the smooth thighs and worked on the garter fasteners. One by one, she removed the filmy nylons. There was pure perfection in the shapely symmetry of the bare legs.

Eyes glittering, Michele leaned back and sighed dreamily. Paula's hands rubbed the curved arches; her fingers slipped between the delicate toes.

"Ah yes, Paula, you do have talent. Talent that I'm going to put to good use."

It was an odd sort of compliment, but Paula felt pleased as she continued her manipulations. There was that implied threat, too, but it didn't bother her now. The very touch of Michele was enough to turn her limp with longing. She was dimly aware that her last vestige of will was draining away. The liquor had done its work well. The liquor and Michele.

"Enough," the woman said. "I'm going to take a shower now. Wait for me." She stood up and peeled out of her lingerie, then strode toward the bathroom.

The sight of her naked body made Paula go tense. The lovely breasts. The deliciously domed buttocks. The slim waist flaring outward to rounded hips. For an instant she wished that Michele had invited her into the shower with her.

The woman was marvelous. Paula knew that all her caution had been worthless. Away from Michele she was strong and powerful. But here in the presence of her nemesis, she was nothing. Just a creature. An object and humble thing. A thing with no will of her own. A lowly thing that would derive pleasure out of

"Paula!"

"Yes, Michele?"

"Come here and help me." The demanding voice sounded above the gush of the shower. "And you'd better get undressed, too, or your clothes will get wet"

She tossed off her garments hurriedly and trotted to the bathroom. The water stopped running and Michele stood in the shower stall, her body dripping wet. With legs apart, her very stance implied a kind of majestic authority.

"Soap me, Paula. All over."

The command came as a shock. Paula felt touch of dismay, and yet there was a tug of desire in her loins. She took the cake of soap and went to work. With both hands she coated the woman's arms and breasts and upper torso with frothy lather.

Then her hands moved lower, grazing the intimate softness of the faintly curved belly and dipping down to bedaub and smear the insides of the straddled thighs. A small upward motion brought her into a fleeting contact with velvety cuntlips that made her temples throb and she attempted a quick repetition of it.

"Not yet," Michele said brusquely. "Everything else first. Do my feet and legs first"

Paula stooped to obey. But the crouching position was uncomfortable and at last she settled to the wet tile floor, curving her long limbs under her in order to fit inside the tiny cubicle. With her head bowed, she soaped the dainty feet as Michele balanced and raised them one at a time to allow her solicitous hands free access to the soles and arches.

Then, as the woman grunted in satisfaction, Paula slid her slippery palms up the ankles and calves. Desire overwhelmed her at the touch of the foamy slickness. Impulsively-as if they were acting of their own volition-her fingers raced upward in search of that intimate vaginal contact once again.

Michele stiffened in refusal. "Quit that. You're rushing too fast. You haven't finished my legs yet."

Chastened, Paula complied and went on with her labors. When she finally reached the upper thighs, Michele turned around and then assumed her straddle-legged stance again. Permission was implicit in her very posture, and Paula resoaped her hands and gave her attention to the firmly jutting asscheeks that quivered and then went taut under her ministrations.

A moment later the muscles turned lax and let Paula's fingers steal into the wet cuntlips between the soft domes. She moved hesitantly, not knowing how far she might go. But from above her there was a sharp sound of indrawn breath as she fingered Michele's clitoris, and then she heard the words that spurred her on.

"Yes ... there...."

Paula worked with renewed vigor.

"Careful! Your nails. Don't scratch me." I m sorry.

It took a long time. Michele liked Paula's fingering of her cunt, but couldn't come that way. Then Michele's body rotated again and positioned itself for the ultimate cleansing. That took a long time, too. Even though Paula's heart thumped madly and swelled as if it might burst from her bosom, she retained control of her senses and performed her delicate task with meticulous and painstaking precision.

"Now rinse me off." Michele twisted the knob and let the water spatter. It warmed immediately and she opened the valve full force. "With your hands."

The coating of lather was thick and it turned to great gobs of suds as Paula's cupped palms swept it downward. The slippery sensation was wonderful. Even after the soap was washed away, she wanted to go on and on like this.

But Michele was telling her something and in the noisy downpour she could not make out what it was. Then there were fingers in her hair, inexorable in their demand, guiding her head and turning it face upward until she was on her knees and no longer in doubt about the unheard words. Ah yes, she knew what Michele wanted of her. She was eager to Paula's upturned eyes slowly watched Michele's lovely curved thighs descend, white asscheeks quivered above her open mouth a moment, and then she was fulfilled. As she felt her mouth sense and caress the gliding wondrous intimate cuntlips of Michele, she knew what she had been yearning for. Her tongue probed the churning delight of Michele's inner cunthole with rhythmic zest.

She thrilled as the shapely buttocks began to dance lightly against her cheeks. Then suddenly Michele's wet cunt vibrated in the grip of dozens of ecstatic spasms.

"You have done well, ma cherie!" Michele gasped, writhing with blissful release.

To Paula this was the supreme compliment....