Chapter 1
Jenifer's entire body shuddered as the man placed her hand on his lust-inflated, moist, rigid penis. She had never been so frightened in her fourteen years. The very touch of his throbbing genital organ made the innocent young girl want to vomit! She felt his trembling hand on her fully developed breast, his nervous fingers kneading and probing where no male had ever touched before. Then, when he began forcing her pretty young face to his lap, Jenifer saw his rigid penis sticking out of the open fly on his tennis shorts. It was short and thick with light-blue veins rippling along its blood-engorged shaft. The head was like a swollen bulb, bright red and streaked with sticky fluids. Her first sight of a male sex organ triggered panic in the fourteen-year-old girl's mind. She struggled, rolling on the floor of the tennis shop with the muscular athlete on top of her, his hips jerking obscenely as he rubbed his prick against her virginal body. In panic, Jenifer grabbed a tennis racket and swung blindly. The blow caught him on the temple and dazed him, giving Jenifer an opportunity to escape his clutches and run home. The tennis instructor wasn't arrested because Jenifer's mother didn't want her to have to testify in court, but the man's career was permanently crushed and he was on skid row within six months. For the next five years, Jenifer remained perfectly chaste-a moral prude in every sense of the term. Then, in five short days, Jenifer became a wanton sensualist. This is her story.
The sky above Buenos Aires was a bright blue, but a light crisp, chilling breeze rustled through the leaves of the huge tree in front of the Plaza Hotel as Jenifer emerged from the elegant doorway.
"Taxi, senorita?" the doorman asked, ignoring the shining new wedding ring on her finger as he gave the very attractive young blonde a bow.
"No. No, thank you," Jenifer replied. She smiled as brightly as she could and pulled her light coat tighter around her ripe young body. She had to fight back the panic that gripped her as she turned left and began walking toward the entrance to Florida Street. The thought of being all alone in this strange foreign city for the next eight hours frightened her. In fact, the entire situation had the nineteen-year-old girl's nerves on raw edge.
The call that had sent Peter rushing off to the American Embassy had come just when they had finished unpacking after the all-night flight from New York. It was the moment she had been dreading, the moment he had begun to undress her to take his rightful possession of her body. The very thought of being naked with a man and having him make love to her made Jenifer's blood turn to ice. She knew that her fear of sex was abnormal and she had been in the process of trying to condition herself for marriage when Peter had exploded into her sheltered life.
Glancing at her watch as she entered Florida Street, Jenifer saw that it was a little before ten. She had been a married woman for twenty-two hours and forty minutes. It didn't seem possible! She had been away from her home in Richmond, Virginia, twice in her life, and here she was thousands of miles from home married to a man she hardly knew.
An "English Spoken" sign caught her eye as she glanced at the smart shops along fashionable Florida Street. Jenifer hesitated for a moment, then turned into the chic boutique as a gust of wind caressed her face and made her cheeks flush.
"Do you speak English?" Jenifer asked the first clerk she saw.
"Un momentito," the woman responded in Spanish, signaling to a striking woman at the rear of the store.
"Can I help you?" the woman asked with a smile as she walked up to Jenifer.
"Oh, yes," Jenifer said with a sigh of relief. "We just arrived this morning and I don't speak a word of Spanish. And I'm freezing to death! It's May and I brought summer clothes."
"But this is our winter, Miss...."
"Caldwell," Jenifer replied automatically. "No, I mean Martin. We were married yesterday, you see," she began to explain as she saw the doubting look in the woman's eyes.
"Didn't anyone warn you about our winter?" the woman asked with a warm, reassuring smile.
"Oh," Jenifer said in a more relaxed tone, "the last ten days were a whirlwind. And I'm afraid I'm not much of a traveler. I packed lightly and thought I would buy anything I needed after we arrived."
"How silly of me," the woman said, taking Jenifer's arm and leading her to the back of the store. "Would you like a cup of tea? I know you Americans drink coffee, but I prefer tea and I keep a kettle hot back here. It will warm you. How long will you be staying in Argentina?"
"We'll be living here for a while," Jenifer said, accepting the steaming cup of tea from the woman. "My husband is assigned to the embassy. We're going to stay at the Plaza for a few weeks, then look for an apartment. You have a lovely store."
"Thank you," the woman answered with a bright smile at the prospect of a permanent customer. "Here, take your coat off and relax for a moment, then we'll see if I can show you some things."
The owner of the boutique, who was accustomed to gauging another woman's size at a glance, was surprised at the fullness of Jenifer's body as she helped the girl with her coat. She had large, full breasts, probably a full 38-C cup, a narrow waist, full, well-rounded hips, and lovely, sculptured legs. She was so young! So fresh and innocent with pale ivory skin, bright pink cheeks, full, lovely lips, light-blue eyes and delicate features. The woman wondered if the girl was in motion pictures, but she lacked the dissipated look the woman had seen on some of the Hollywood stars who had visited her boutique. The girl's outstanding feature was her hair. It was long, hanging gracefully half way down her back, with a silken quality and golden sheen that the woman knew no bottle could produce.
"Cigarette?"
"Oh, no, thank you," Jenifer replied softly, almost blushing. "I don't smoke. If I seem nervous, it's just that everything seems so strange and foreign to me."
"I'm sure I'd feel the same way in New York," the woman said, laughing. "But I'm certain you'll love Buenos Aires. It's one of the most beautiful and cosmopolitan cities in the world. Now, what can I show you?"
"Well," Jenifer said thoughtfully, "I know I'll need a good warm coat. And I think I'd better look for some warm sweaters, and maybe some wool dresses. I'm afraid I came terribly unprepared."
"Let's start with the coat. I have some lovely new fall coats over here. Let me see, you wear a twelve, don't you? Yes, this one should look stunning on you. The blue matches your eyes and sets off your hair."
Jenifer slipped into the heavy blue coat and stepped over to the mirror. It had a fitted waist and a wide collar.
"It's perfect!" Jenifer declared brightly. "I'll take it."
The owner of the boutique concealed her surprise that the young girl hadn't even bothered to ask the price. She had no idea what kind of budget the girl was on, and it was best to find out before she wasted a good deal of time. She slipped her glasses down from her forehead and made a show of studying the price tag.
"Let me see," the woman began, "this coat is seventy-five thousand old pesos, or seven thousand five hundred new pesos. That would be about seven hundred and fifty dollars, Mrs. Martin."
"That's fine, and you know that you're the first person in Buenos Aires to call me that."
"What?"
"My new name, Mrs. Martin. I'm not used to it."
"You will be, soon. You want the coat, then?"
"Oh, yes! It's perfect."
The woman smiled and signaled to the clerk in the front of the store to take the coat. Anyone who spent seven hundred and fifty dollars on a coat without giving it a second thought was her type of customer.
"Why don't you sit down, Mrs. Martin? I'll bring out some of the designer's originals we received yesterday and you can see if there is anything you like."
An hour later, Jenifer had chosen a chic, yet conservative, wardrobe. She had declined several of the dresses with daring bodices and concentrated on smart, practical ensembles. Jenifer had no idea what type of entertaining they would have to do. She wasn't even certain that she understood what Peter did at the embassy. They had planned to marry in June, but a sudden call came through and he announced that he was being assigned to Buenos Aires immediately.
"That will be three thousand eight hundred and sixty dollars," the owner of the boutique said as she finished totaling Jenifer's bill. "Do you want us to send all of this over to the hotel for you?"
"All except the coat," Jenifer said. "Perhaps you could put my old coat with the packages. Do you accept traveler's checks?"
"Certainly, but I will have to give you your change in pesos. I'm afraid I don't have any dollars this morning."
"That would be fine. I need some pesos, anyway." Jenifer opened her purse and pulled out a number of books of traveler's checks. She selected one that had five-hundred-dollar checks and carefully signed eight of the drafts. "I'm afraid these are in my maiden name. Mother arranged for them with her bank early this week, before the wedding, I mean. There was so much to do. Anyway, our bank gave me this letter of introduction," she added, handing the woman an envelope.
The woman had to consciously conceal her surprise as she read the letter. Jenifer Caldwell was the only daughter of Virginia Caldwell, the famous heiress of a soap fortune and one of the wealthiest women in the world. No wonder she doesn't bother with the price, the woman said to herself.
"That's quite all right, Mrs. Martin," the woman said sweetly. "And, really, there is no need to bring cash with you when you shop here. I'll be glad to open a charge account for you. We'll send your purchases to the hotel and I'll see that a bellboy puts everything in your room."
"Thank you," Jenifer replied, wondering how she might prolong her visit with this pleasant woman who spoke her language.
"And welcome to Buenos Aires," the woman continued. "I hope you enjoy your honeymoon here."
Jenifer blushed and hated herself for it. Why was it that any implication of sex made her blush? There was an awkward silence and Jenifer decided that she would simply have to continue her lonely tour of this strange city. She pulled on her new warm coat and said goodbye to the owner of the boutique and began walking down Florida Street.
Many years before the Argentine government had closed Florida Street to all automobile traffic and it quickly became the main thoroughfare for smart shops and department stores in Buenos Aires. The street was wide, with small trees and shrubs planted at intervals in the center. Along its fourteen-block length a river of humanity flowed daily. Within a block or two of Florida Street were most of the famous restaurants and theaters of Buenos Aires, making this district of populous Buenos Aires a compact city in itself.
Jenifer drifted into the stream of people moving steadily along the pleasant thoroughfare. She stopped and looked at the attractive displays in the shop windows, fighting back an urge to go on a buying spree. Whenever the pressure of Jenifer's little world in Richmond, Virginia, had become overbearing, she had gone on a shopping spree to relieve her tension. Her mother was understanding and never scolded her for her occasional extravagances, but now Jenifer had a husband to contend with. She had twenty-five thousand dollars in cash and traveler's checks in her purse, a going-away present from her mother, and a letter of credit with the Bank of America in Buenos Aires for an additional twenty-five thousand, her wedding gift from her favorite uncle.
Jenifer knew very little about Peter's financial condition. Her mother's attorney reported that his investigation of Peter Martin had shown Peter to be comfortable-not wealthy, but comfortable. In the time they had known each other, Peter had made only one remark about money. "You'll have to give up being the little rich bitch," he remarked when they first discussed marriage. And although he had laughed when he said it, Jenifer knew that Peter subconsciously resented her mother's fortune.
She had been quick to assure him that money meant nothing to her. And, in truth, money wasn't important to her. Outside of her occasional spending sprees, Jenifer seldom spent any money at all. She often dreamed about what it would have been like to be born poor, to have to struggle and use her intelligence to get by in the world. She was an intelligent girl, a straight-A student who, by attending summer school, had managed to be graduated from college at the age of eighteen.
"I beg your pardon, miss, but you are a very beautiful girl."
Jenifer almost gasped aloud. She had been lost in thought, staring at diamonds in the window of a jewelry store. The man's heavily accented English amused her, but the situation didn't as she looked up at the tall, darkly handsome, very well-dressed Latin man standing beside her. The leer in his eyes told Jenifer that he was undressing her in his mind, and her face flushed.
"Thank you," she said softly, wishing that her voice would register more confidence. "My husband will appreciate your kindness. I'm on my way to meet him now."
She turned away and began walking briskly down the street. Why did all men have sex on their minds? she asked herself. She wished that she were truly meeting Peter, and then the thought of what they would do that night sent her into despair. Peter's parting words echoed in her ears, Tonight, darling, we'll ball until we fall!