Chapter 8

Diane Gaylord tried to arrive at St. Lazure as inconspicuously as possible, but the whole island knew the famous movie star was coming. An elaborate formal party of welcome was organized by that self-elected social leader, Brenda Kenyon. Everyone of importance on the island was invited.

Diane's blonde loveliness fumed angrily when she heard of it, she felt she was being imposed upon. She wanted to be a private person, there for a real rest. And incidentally, for some real unpublicized hump-escapades.

She couldn't ditch the party altogether, it would be too damaging to her image. But she did stamp her foot and insist that everyone come informally attired, or else no Diane Gaylord. Since Diane had the kind of amazing looks and body that would look at their best in nothing at all, she shone at the party. Everyone of any importance in St. Lazure showed up to welcome the glorious blonde. But to Diane it was pretty much of a bore. There were charming women and distinguished-looking men, true enough, but she came across no one sufficiently interesting to brighten the prospects of her holiday. In shorts, they all seemed relaxed and comfortable but with comparatively few exceptions, they were fairly dreary bunch.

After a while she got tired of seeing so many knees. Fat knees, skinny knees, dimpled knees-there was just a surfeit of knees. Pretty soon she made a game out of it by avoiding faces, and making snap judgments of people's characters based only on their bare legs.

Of all the knees, the ones that appealed to her most were those that belonged to Paula Jardine and the two cute girls with her. But the girls, as Diane soon found out, were no different than the moochers and climbers she knew on the West Coast. Lovely on the surface, but a bit sharp and self-promoting underneath. Not her type, really, and she didn't care about getting involved in something that would probably stifle her.

Paula, of course, was another story. Diane was quick to recognize the New York playgirl as an equal. But the feeling between them was respect and friendliness, nothing more. No sex. They were too much alike, actually, and any frigging with one another could have come about only because of mere curiosity and not flame of real desire.

Besides, from the way Paula acted with the two girls it was apparent that she had no need of more hump-partners. The symptoms were familiar to Diane. The three of them were undoubtedly having a private little screwing arrangement that hadn't progressed far enough to lose its novelty.

Diane saw no reason to interfere. But she only wished that she too might locate some cute and submissive cunt-lapper with whom she could while away the long leisure hours. And what she was seeing of Brenda's party-going guests didn't augur too well for the immediate future. Aside from Nikki and Pat, there just wasn't much hump material around not her kind of material, at least. And she didn't feel up to getting into any kind of competition with Paula.

As the liquor flowed and the party wore on, Diane was aware that it could only get worse. Boredom began to weigh heavily upon her. People were introducing themselves to her for the second time and they were no more impressive than the first. It was almost a relief when she spotted Paula Jardine across the room and read signs of similar ennui in the woman's expression.

Diane threaded her way across the room going through an obstacle course of tilted drinks and smoldering cigarettes. She placed her lips to Paula's ear.

"You too?" she murmured.

"Hmmm?"

"I saw the expression on your face. You're just as bored with this thing as I am. Right?"

"Bull's-eye. Frankly, I'm bored stiff. But Pat and Nikki seem to be enjoying themselves, so I guess I'll have to hang around. It'll probably last for hours, though. Until morning-unless the booze runs out."

Diane snorted. "It won't run out. Brenda stocked up. So we're in for a hard day's night. I guess. Unless we can think of something amusing to do."

"True. Any suggestions?"

"No. Nothing that I can-" Diane stopped short and snapped her fingers. "I've got it. How about a bicycle ride?"

"A bicycle ride? Now?"

"Sure. Brenda has bikes out in the back. Let's play hookey and sneak a couple and take a spin around the island. I haven't been on a bike for years."

"Sounds like fun ... The way things are going here, we wouldn't even be missed. But I don't know any more about St. Lazure than you do, Diane. We might get lost Don't you think we ought to have a guide?"

Diane nodded and surveyed the crowd. "A guide. I see just the guy for the job. Burt Nestler will do it. Hell get the bicycles out for us, too. Okay?"

"Fine. Let's get him and go."

Burt's momentary reluctance to leave the party vanished when it became clear what an honor was being conferred upon him. Not every man got the chance to escort two such important women. In a matter of minutes, the three of them were pedaling away from the raucous house into the quiet darkness.

"Fun, huh?" Paula sounded happy.

"Great. If I don't break my neck. It's precious, you know. The head of my studio would have a fit"

"Well take it easy," Burt said. "And it'll be all right The lane is smooth all the way to town."

But it wasn't that simple, Diane found out. Her girlhood skill was returning entirely too slowly and she felt awkward. And somehow the seat wasn't right. The stiff leather nosed upward between her buttocks and thighs to rub against her cunt. The place where it rubbed was getting mighty sensitive.

She could feel it now, warm and moist, and although she didn't exactly mind too much, she knew that it could only lead to eventual frustration. Still, there wasn't anything that she could do about it. Anyway, even this temporary pussy excitement was better than nothing. It was really a thrill in a ludicrous sort of way. If she wriggled a little bit more, maybe she could even come.

On a bicycle seat"!

Diane giggled self-consciously aid forced her quivering cunt to calm down. How ridiculous! But at least she could read the message loud and clear. She needed action. And she needed it soon. She hadn't been with a girl since the Coast. When a bicycle seat became that important, well, it was time to get busy and find a real live substitute for that impersonal leath caressing her twat. Otherwise it would be a sad vacation.

Burt's voice sang out. "We're coming to a landmark. See the house on the right? There-just beyond the hill. That's Michele Duval's place."

Paula's front wheel must have struck a rock. It twisted and she almost fell from her bicycle. But she regained her balance in time and kept on pedaling.

"Whose place?" Diane said. "Burt, you were about to tell us about a local landmark."

He chuckled. "It belongs to the most important woman on the island. Brenda can be the social big-shot, but Michele is our prize-winner. The commodity she peddles outranks anything that Brenda can produce. Sex is the great leveler-and all men stand in awe of it."

"What's that, philosophy?" Paula's tone was drily sarcastic. "You actually sound like a writer. Maybe that novel of yours will be a howling success."

"Well, after I get if finished-"

Diane interrupted. "Don't change the subject. I want to know more about Michele and her place. Better yet, can't we stop and go in?"

"Sure," Burt said. "It's a nightclub, partly. If you want to, we can have a drink before we head back."

"No!" Paula's voice almost shocked by its shrill loudness. "I don't want to go in."

"Honey, why not?" Diane wheedled. "It might be fun. We won't stay very long."

But Paula was adamant. Whatever the reason, it was evident that she wanted nothing to do with Michele Duval and her house of ill-repute. Somehow even their discussion of it seemed to have depressed her. She suggested turning around and going back to the party.

"You go," Diane said. "But my curiosity is aroused. I'm anxious to see the inside of a real cat-house!"

Paula shrugged. "It's okay with me. How about you, Burt? What's you choice?"

"Well ... uh...."

Diane cut in hastily. "You ought to head back with Paula. Don't worry about me--I'll make out all right."

There was a little more agreeing and disagreeing, but finally it was settled. The two started back to Brenda's soiree. Diane continued on alone.

Alone. She breathed a sigh of relief. It was the way she wanted it. But not for long. The deep-digging bike seat tickling her cunt had done its work well. She was too far gone now to care about a drink in a nightclub. She wanted action. The kind of action that she might get in the more clandestine part of her house. Going in alone would make it easier to talk to Michele Duval and make her rather offbeat frigging desires known.

No, she wouldn't be along long. Funny thing, though. She was a Hollywood star with dozens of gay girls wild about her and now she was actually going to pay for companionship. Pay a woman to take care of her. Like a sailor on shore leave. And wasn't it just too exciting!

Her excitement mounted as she parked the bicycle and went inside. The woman named Michele turned out to be remarkably understanding. Enough so that Diane was almost tempted to make a pass at her, instead of going the commercial route. But the flurry of anticipation inside her was for a paid prostitute. There was something deliciously perverted about the idea.

"I have just the girl for you." Michele's smile was all-knowing. "So meek and mild. The kind who is always ready and willing to obey."

"Oh yes. I'll like that."

"Anyway you mustn't be too gentle with her, my dear. Goldie has rather a slavish nature."

"Goldie? Is that her name?"

"It's what we call her. You'll see why. The color of her skin is really unique. But perhaps you'd rather not have one of the native girls? I can get you a-"

"Goldie sounds fine. Especially what you said about her having a slavish nature."

"Good. Be sure to take advantage of it, won't you?" The dark eyes of Michele glistened. "Goldie's at her best-and at her happiest, I might add-when she is completely at the mercy of some beautiful woman. So handle her with authority and shell love you."

"Thanks, Michele. I'll do that. And about payment, uh, I'm not carrying much money with me, but if-"

"Say no more, please. This one is on me. It's an honor to entertain the ravishing Diane Gaylord," chuckled Michele in a confidential manner. "And it's good business too, frankly. I'm sure I'll see more of you. But enough of that-you must be terribly impatient, yes?"

Diane nodded, her tongue thick and unwieldy from the surging thrill of this naughty escapade. She went to the room designated by Michele and sat down on the bed to wait.

Presently the door opened. The girl entered, closed it and shot the bolt; then she turned and faced the bed. "I am here to serve you, Miss Diane. My name is Goldie."

Diane beckoned her closer, utterly charmed by the beauty of the creature. Goldie was small-boned and dainty and she moved with a fluid grace even on the outrageously high spike-heels that she wore. She had on a white maid's cap and tiny apron and not a stitch else.

But it was the color of her skin that made Diane tingle in astonishment. Despite her impatience, she had an overwhelming desire to just look and evaluate and enjoy the fantastic coloration of that gleaming smoothness.

"Those things," she said. 'Take them off. Not the shoes, just the cap and the apron."

The girl complied. Diane's eyes widened. The rosy copper skin of the girl's body was completely devoid of hair even over her cunt-area, and it gave her an appearance of a young child.

"Is this all right, Miss Diane? Is there anything else I can do for you?" There was an exotic tinge to her speech and the words like a liquid purr. "Anything at all?"

"Anything at all ... I'm just beginning to understand that. Yes, there is something." Again Diane raised her hand in a languidly beckoning gesture. "Come and undress me."

Then she gasped as the girl caught her hand and pressed her lips to it. Like a slave showing gratitude for the privilege of serving her mistress. When the girl started her task, it was with that same worshipful attitude. Few as Diane's garments were, Goldie made a long and sensuous ritual out of their removal and folding and placing out of the way.

"You do that well, Goldie. You're certainly as good as any personal maid I've ever had."

"Thank you. I know all about how to take care of beautiful ladies. I am well-trained." As if in illustration of her remark, the girl sank to her knees and kissed Diane's feet. Her soft voice floated upward. "Do I please you?"

"You please me very much."

It was a crazy thrill and Diane let it go on. The sensation of her toes in that wet mouth was exhilarating. She knew her feet must have gotten a little sweaty and grimy from the party and the exertion of the bike ride. But the crouching girl actually seemed to enjoy licking and washing them with her tongue.

Sweaty. Grimy. But it didn't make any difference. Nor did it make any difference that the rest of her body was that way, too. For a session of love-making with some other woman, she would have insisted on bathing first. It was the polite thing to do.

But for this girl? Her slave!!

Bathing wasn't necessary. Goldie's mouth was hers to use as she liked. To use and abuse. And suddenly Diane could hold back no longer. Later, perhaps, she would have more of this protracted adulation. But she was too hot now. Her cunt was still afire from the memory of that thrusting bicycle seat. And the memory wasn't enough.

"Goldie!"

"Mmmm?"

"Up here. Quickly."

The girl scurried. Diane seized her by the hair and tossed her yielding form face up on the bed. Wide-eyed, mute, the big velvet eyes stared upward.

Diane rose high, positioning herself momentarily and then let her weight sink slowly. The staring eyes remained open staring at the moist cuntlips until the very last possible moment. Adoration gleamed in their depths. Then the eyes closed and the mouth opened and Diane's vagina reached the end of its descent.

A thrill shook her. It was like being on the bicycle again. Only it wasn't hard, inflexible leather that she was sitting on, it was a soft-skinned face. A soft-lipped mouth. And upon the soft-tongued perch, Diane's twat knew ecstasy. Only for one rational instant did she stop wriggling her thrilling pussy long enough to speak the thought that was too urgent to let pass.

"Goldie, would you like to work for me? Would you like to leave the island and come away with me to California?"

"Ummm."

The mumble was meaningless and Diane raised her torso to let the girl talk. There was a gasp, an intake of air, and then the sound of the humble voice.

"I-I don't know. I belong to Miss Michele."

"I think well be able to take care of that little detail, baby," Diane murmured, smiling.

Gently, the most sought after, sexiest satiny asscheeks in the hemisphere settled themselves sensuously on Goldie's waiting, upturned mouth. They began a soft, undulating wriggle as Diane's cunt again felt the trained artistry of Goldie's lips and fluttering tongue. Then Diane's body crouched forward, her hands clutched the golden red-nippled globes of Goldie's tits as her asscheeks writhed in shimmering frenzy. f "Don't stop Goldie," she squealed joyously. "I've never been turned on like this before, oh, oh!"

The most expensive cunt in Hollywood twitched in the exquisite spasms of ultimate blissful release....