Chapter 2

So now Reid Hartley stood in the Malibu Beach antique shop staring at Mona Seagram and remembering their lovemaking of several years ago that afternoon in Cecil Seagram's living room. It seemed incredible that he had been her first real lover-that he had actually made love to a fifteen-year-old-but it was true. Still, he hadn't actually deflowered her. Old Cecil Seagram had taken care of that, or at least the mechanics of deflowering her.

Mona hadn't noticed him as yet. She held a small vase and studied it, tilting her head from side to side as though trying to decide whether or not to buy it. She had changed quite a lot. Was this really the same Mona Seagram who had begged him to fuck her several years ago? Could this possibly be the same eager teenager who had licked his penis outside by the swimming pool? Yes, despite her gaunt look and lack of makeup, it was definitely Mona. She wore hippie attire-a leather Indian outfit with a beaded headband about her forehead.

Oh, how they had rutted that afternoon-fucked so naturally and without regard for the consequences! Actually, she had been the first so-called virgin he had ever had the pleasure of sinking his meat into and, often during these past few years, he had experienced fantasies in which he relived that afternoon's sexual encounter. Several times, when restless at night, he had let his mind wander back to that afternoon, recreated the sounds of her whimpers in his ear, the feel of her firm, young legs encircling him, and he had masturbated violently in an effort to bring back vividly the memory of fucking her. In fact, only last week while soaping himself in the shower, he had thought of her and then jacked off with the lather under the spraying water.

It was not as if he were a celibate. He had slept with plenty of women since that afternoon with Mona. But there would always be a special place in his heart (balls?) for her. Yes, secretly he adored her, but circumstances and their age difference had made it impossible for him to contact her since that fateful day.

So now here she was: Mona Seagram, the girl he had jacked off over just last week. Weird. Both of them here at Malibu Beach. Really weird. He, Reid Hartley, thirty-six. Mona Seagram, seventeen, or maybe even eighteen now. Still a child, but looking a hell of a lot different.

His pulse quickened as he stepped over to the shelf lined with vases, ash trays, lamps, various objects of art. He decided to be casual. "Hi there, Mona," he said, and he realized that they were the first words he had spoken all day.

She turned her pretty but gaunt face and smiled. The smile had not changed. It was still little-girlish-a trace of innocence combined with mischief.

"What have you been doing?" he asked. "I heard you'd gone sort of artsy."

"Yes, I suppose you would hear that sort of thing from my father's associates-people in the advertising business, I mean. The fact is, I've just begun to live. I've taken up painting. Not the kind they teach in college. I mean, serious painting."

"No kidding. Great. So are you doing any good with it?" He wanted to keep the conversation light, but he found himself uncontrollably running his eyes hungrily over her. "I mean-how are you doing?"

"Fairly well. I'm enjoying myself."

"Well, that's wonderful," Reid said. "Really wonderful. I'm glad you're doing what you want. Doing what you really like is important, isn't it?"

"What are you doing?" she asked. "Still going around seducing teenage girls?"

He stared at her, puzzled. "That's funny," he said. "I had the impression it was the other way around. I resisted valiantly to no avail, if you recall."

They both laughed. "Yes, I recall," she admitted. "So what are you doing?"

What he'd been doing was a sensitive area for an ad writer who had apparently lost his touch. Writing successful ads was one thing. Writing unsuccessful ads and devising floppo campaigns was quite another thing.

"Oh, I'm still fooling around with the advertising business," he said. "Right now, I'm here for a little vacation. By myself."

Mona shook her head. "Good God! The advertising business; what a phony racket! What are you promoting these days?"

"The usual. You know. Believe it or not, right now I'm trying to come up with an idea for a brassiere account."

"Brassieres! Have you ever worn one? What do you really know about brassieres?"

"Well, I haven't actually worn one, of course, but I can use my imagination, can't I? I don't have to eat dog food to sell it, right?" Reid wished they could drop the subject.

"Hmmm," Mona said, frowning. "I still don't see how you can write about brassieres if you've never worn one. I don't see how you can be very convincing, frankly."

"Okay, give me yours and I'll try it on. For you I'll become a transvestite."

"I gave them up," she said, trying hard to smile.

Reid forced a laugh. Something about her frightened him. She seemed so intense, so damned contrary and artsy. "Well, so you're painting now," he said. He didn't know what else to say.

"Yes, and I write poetry, too. I assure you that my poetry doesn't in any way resemble advertising drivel."

Reid vaguely remembered hearing that Mona was living with a musician or a sculptor or something, but he had dismissed it as idle gossip. "Well, are you married, or working, or what?"

"No, I haven't worked for some time now. My father's offered to give me whatever I want, but I'd rather not be obligated. I just work long enough to save a little money. Then Vincent and I are able to clothe ourselves, eat, and pay the rent. We both do creative work. He's a sculptor. Of course, I was in the hospital for a while."

"You were?".

Mona explained that for a long time she hadn't eaten properly-"just sandwiches and junky things" and she had let herself get "run down." She asked him not to tell her father about her hospitalization and he promised he would not.

She went on talking somewhat bitterly, attacking the Establishment, advertising, everything, and Reid found himself growing more and more uneasy. She seemed to be enjoying talking about her recent illness, her great departure from the world of her famous father, Cecil Seagram, and her great sacrifice in the name of Art. He wanted to reach out and shake her until her teeth rattled, shake the pallor from her face and recreate the same bright-eyed girl with the long hair that he had made love to several years ago. She had been so mischievous and full of life that day they had fucked and even though he had felt some guilt after that encounter he wished he could take her back in time and spread her legs and fuck her cunt again. He had the strange idea that what she needed was a good fucking and that he should be the one to do the job.

She apparently had Vincent but Vincent didn't seem to be what she needed, and so naturally he fancied himself her savior-the prick with golden wings to restore her to normality. She had been so beautiful, so innocent. What had happened? Had her unusual sexual relationship with her father turned her sour? Possibly. At any rate, now she was living with some freak named Vincent. She had holed herself up somewhere here at Malibu Beach and was ruining her health. It was crazy. Her father was a goddam millionaire, for chrissake!

"... mainly I learned that you must take care of your body," she was saying. "You have to eat properly and get exercise. Also, as far as drugs go, it's best not to get strung out on reds. I've given drugs up entirely now. Let me tell you something."

"They're closing," Reid said, noticing the shopkeeper lowering the blinds.

His head reeling, Reid followed Mona outside. God, she still looked good, despite her ordeal! The curves and swells of her body were something to see as she walked. And that pert little ass. Nice. He could still remember vividly holding onto it and driving his prick into her seething little orifice.

They stood in the parking lot of the shop that fronted Pacific Coast Highway and talked. As Mona chattered on, Reid admired her braless, jutting breasts beneath the leather top of her Indian outfit. Her diet certainly hadn't affected her tits!

"You may not realize it, Reid, but my sexual relationship with my father was somewhat traumatic. Not only was it unsatisfying, but it was-well, abnormal. I didn't feel any real guilt about it because in having sex games with him I felt superior. He is a highly respected man in the world of men, right? Well, when I discovered I could reduce him to a whimpering, panting slob, it gave me a feeling of power. Despite what everybody said about him, I knew he wasn't any superman."

Mona paused, brushing her hair from her forehead as she gathered her thoughts. "The point is," she continued, "I've always been a very competitive girl, Reid. You don't know this, but I've also been a rather good painter since a very early age. I was extremely precocious and weighed life quite intellectually, although I seldom revealed this. My father knew this, of course, but I'll wager you didn't think the curious little girl who seduced you that afternoon had any particular talents or ambitions, correct?"

"No, I suppose it didn't even occur to me," Reid admitted, studying her closely. "I was too busy admiring your-er-other attributes."

"Like my ass and my tits? Things like that, right?"

Reid chuckled. "You might put it that way, yes."

"Right on," Mona said. "Well, to make this brief, although you would never have recognized that I had such a problem, I was in a deadly competition with men-all men. But now I've finally accepted woman's subservient role. Interesting that I would go against the whole Fern Lib Movement, isn't it? Still, I believe what I'm saying now. I believe that men are more concerned with ideas than women and that woman's job is to sort of bring them down to earth. I don't mean that woman can't function in the arts and can't deal with ideas-of course we can and do-what I mean is, we're more concrete. Actually, it's a very superior trait. We don't let men get too far off the track. You'd all go kooky without us, and I don't mean just sex-wise either. Naturally, Vincent agrees with me."

"Well, that's a pretty interesting idea," Reid said, confused, not knowing really what he thought.

She continued, not seeming to hear him. "For a long time I fought these basic facts. All I wanted to do was paint better than any man who ever lived. Now I'm aware that I was wrong. I'm a woman. I'm free at last to be a woman."

"You're a woman, all right," Reid agreed, running his eyes hungrily over her body. "This Vincent... what does he do? Is he just a sculptor or does he do other things?"

"No, he just makes things." She laughed brightly, the way he remembered her. "Last week he got a crumpled fender from an old wrecked car, sprayed it with paint and sold it for a hundred dollars! Oh, it was really too funny. Really heavy. Imagine! But he does do serious work from scratch. He's quite good. I hope he gets a good commission soon. He's forty-three and certainly due for a break."

"Yes, that would be nice," Reid said.

Mona rocked back and forth from the heels to the toes of her sandals, her beautiful breasts bouncing freely beneath her Indian garb. She seemed deliriously happy and, for a moment, Reid felt as though he might cry. He couldn't erase the picture in his mind of the innocent (at least he'd thought her innocent and naive) girl on the living-room couch, with her legs spread apart, begging him to fuck her. The change in her seemed so drastic!

"Well, I really must be getting back to Vincent," Mona said. "By now he's probably fucking his model! Goodbye, Reid, and be sure not to 'hard sell' those brassieres. They're really very confining. 'Night."

"Good night, Mona."

She turned, crossed the highway, and began walking slowly into the distance. Reid watched her, unable to take his eyes from her as she walked her beautiful, sensuous walk toward the cluster of giant rocks. It occurred to him that he did not know where she lived, her telephone number....

When the figure sprang from the darkness of the rocks, grabbed Mona and dragged her from sight, Reid could not believe his eyes. It happened so quickly, it was as though he were dreaming. He broke into a sprint, running toward the rocks which lay perhaps a hundred yards away. Finally, his breath rasping in his lungs, he reached the spot where Mona had disappeared. The floodlights illuminated only the tips of the rocks and, farther below, near the water, there was total darkness. Squinting, searching desperately for some sign of movement, he crouched and made his way between two of the larger boulders. He called Mona's name, but there was no answer, only the sound of the surf. Finally, about ten yards distant where a sliver of light illuminated a small clearing of sand, he saw them.

Mona's assailant lay on top of her struggling body, one hand clamped over her mouth and the other hand tearing at her clothing. Reid moved cautiously, wanting to move faster but afraid of startling the attacker. When he drew very near, he could hear the man's voice even over the sound of the surf.

"Easy, sugar," the guttural voice commanded. "Ya better just relax or I'll just have to toss ya in the ocean. It's awful dark and deep and ya wouldn't like that, would ya? Relax while I fuck your little cunt. Then I'll let ya go okay? Be a good girlie so's I won't have to toss your pretty little ass in the ocean. You've had a cock in your little puss before, haven't ya? So what's the difference?"

Mona's assailant had his hand up under Mona's top now, obviously fondling her bare breasts, and with his knee he was forcing her legs apart.

"That's it, sugar. I just want to get this cock in that little cunt. That's all. Relax and everything'll be dandy. Then I'll let ya go--"

When he was close enough, Reid leaped and tore the man from Mona. He was not a big man-possibly in his forties-but he was strong for his size. Instantly, he got back up on his feet and kicked Reid squarely in the chest. Reid went flying, the rough rock tearing into his back as he fell.

"Get the hell away, hero," the attacker cursed. "Go away before I kill your ass and the broad's, too."

Reid sprang forward and drove his right fist low and straight, trying for the testicles with all his might. The blow landed high though, caught the man's ribs and pushed into his stomach. There followed a whooshing exhale of air, a painful groan, and then Reid saw the glint of a knife blade in the dim light. The lighting was eerie, for the floodlights from the highway lighted the top of the man's head-making his short-cropped hair appear crimson-while Mona and the ground below was in near darkness.

"Now you're gonna die, big man," the attacker grunted. "You wanted to play hero? Well, okay. You're gonna die good... with a... knife in your gut."

"Save yourself a lot of trouble," Reid said. "Just go away and forget the whole thing. Go now and I won't try to stop you."

"I got the knife, friend. You ain't givin' no orders. You're the one who's goin'. Now!"

Mona sat frozen in terror on the sand. "Go, Mona!" Reid yelled. "Go now! Run!"

She didn't move. There was only one thing left to do. With Mona in a state of shock, Reid knew he would have to grapple with this armed man. He feinted to his left, drew a thrust that barely missed, and caught the man's wrist.

"Go!" Reid screamed. "Run now, Mona! Run!"

Still, Mona did not move. The struggle continued and the knife was at throat level now, pointing at the attacker as they battled for control. Reid felt his arms weakening. He would have to make a desperate effort soon before he lost his strength. With every bit of strength he could muster, he exerted a final burst, put his leg behind the assailant and shoved with all his might. As the man fell, Reid managed to wrench the knife from his hand. Then, before his opponent could rise, Reid used both hands and drove the blade downward.

There was a sharp cry of pain as the knife dug deep into the man's shoulder. Reid lay on his side then, panting, making no effort to stop the would-be rapist as he crawled away whimpering into the darkness.

"You fucking animal!" he cried out after him, but there was only the sound of the sea against the rocks. In a moment, when he had regained his breath, he asked, "Are you all right, Mona?"

She crawled over to him. "Yes, yes," she muttered. "Oh, Reid. It was so-so horrible." She nestled against him.

"He's gone," Reid said. "He's gone now. It's all right."

Mona touched the blood on his wrist. "Reid, you're hurt!"

"No, it's his blood. It's from him."

Mona buried her face in his shoulder. "If you hadn't been here to stop him, he would have-he would have raped me and-and maybe thrown me in the ocean...." She broke off in a sob.

He put his arm around her and they sat in silence for what seemed a long time. After a while, she dabbed at her eyes and said, "I'm sorry I seemed so cool and independent back at the antique shop. I'm-I'm really not so different from the girl you made love to a few years back." She cuddled closer. "I've never forgotten you, Reid. After that beautiful afternoon when we fucked there on the couch, I kept hoping you would come back. I thought about you all the time. Did you ever think of me?"

Reid held her close, nuzzling in her soft, dark hair. "Yes, Mona, I thought of you more than you'd guess. But it was impossible to contact you. You understand? Your age... your father... everything."

"It feels so good to be near you again, Reid. I-I was so frightened a moment ago. Fate must have sent you here. What if I'd left that shop all alone-if you hadn't been here?"

"Yes," Reid said. "Fate. Tell me, is this Vincent really good to you? Are you happy?"

"Yes," she said, "but let's not talk about Vincent now, all right?" She reached up then, encircling his neck with her arm and their lips met in a deep, soul kiss. There was no haste, no clumsiness. She was neither bold nor timid, passive nor aggressive. He slipped his hand up under the top of her leather top and gently fondled her ripe, firm breasts. An electric-like shock seemed to jolt his scrotum and his balls tingled as his prick rose instantly to its full length. In a way, he felt guilty. The attacker had also fondled Mona's breasts. Quite possibly she was still in a state of semi-shock and he felt as though he were taking advantage-like picking up a drunken woman in a bar and using her. But she seemed coherent and her lips were pressed tightly to his, their tongues playing darting, frantic games.

"Is this my reward for rescuing the maiden in distress?" he found himself asking.

She held his cheeks in her hands and stared intently, her eyes tear bright, into his own eyes. "Reid, you know it's more than that. Please don't be cruel."

"Well, that maniac was-was feeling you up. Am I really any better?" He couldn't help uttering what was on his mind, even though he felt nothing but affection, even love, for this lovely girl beside him. He wondered why he was torturing himself, but he guessed that his feeling for Mona was so intense and genuine that he actually wanted what was best for her. He did not want her to give her body to him out of gratitude. He did not want her to do anything she sincerely didn't want to do. If she gave herself to him because she was grateful he knew he would feel he was no better than the attacker who had just fled. It became suddenly important to him that his own motives be right and hers, too. Don't be such a pompous, moral, pain in the ass, Reid, he thought.

"You know it isn't the same," Mona was saying. She pressed his hand firmly to her bare breast again encouragingly. "You know you're nothing like that-that beast who just attacked me. Do you really still have to write all that advertising crap?" she asked.

In view of what had just happened-the horror and the danger of it-the question struck him as incongruous. He began to laugh, and then Mona began to laugh, too. They sat there in the semi-darkness in the damp sand, laughing hysterically. It was an overreaction, a sort of release from their near-catastrophic experience. When finally their hilarity had sputtered and spasmed to a halt, Reid said, "No, I guess I really don't have to write all that advertising crap, but I'm doing it anyway. Why?"

"I was just thinking about that afternoon you were at my father's. You seemed so intense-both of you-like little boys squabbling over a game of marbles. Only the marbles were dollars. I had a crush on you the minute I saw you. I knew I wanted you to be the first to make love to me the second I saw you. And when that telephone call came that took Daddy away-well, I guess I let you know, didn't I?"

"Yes, young lady, you certainly did," he said, and then he turned her face to him again and kissed her long and hard while he resumed squeezing her breasts and tenderly brushing her nipples erect with his thumbs and forefingers.

"You were my lovely instructor," she cooed, reaching down and groping at his erection, manipulating it like a sponge.

They both lay back on the damp sand, face to face at first, and then Reid lifted her leather top high and held both breasts together and kissed and licked at them while his hand kneaded her ass and pulled it toward his swollen cock in a slow, rhythmic motion. "Hello, baby," he said.

"Oh, Reid... I've never forgotten that afternoon... how patient and sweet you were... how it felt when you stuck your beautiful cock between my legs. Let's pretend we're on my father's couch again-just like that afternoon."

Reid continued nursing at her breasts, first one and then the other, while his hand slid down and stroked the delightful protuberance of her youthful belly. He palmed it, tickling her navel, and gradually moved his hand in wider circles until he reached the soft down of her pubic mound. Then, ever so slowly, he let his finger dip into the top of her crease until it nudged her clit. She was still a bit dry and so he dipped deeper into her honey pot, parting the dewy lips of her vagina with all the delicacy of a connoisseur examining the petals of a rose, fetched a glob of lubricant and applied it to her tingling clitoris. Slowly and lightly at first, he massaged her nerve center with the aid of her own sticky fluid. She responded by pumping her hips and moaning appreciatively, making little mewing sounds and palming his cheek as he drew her nipples deep into his mouth.

Suddenly he forced himself to part from her, removed his canvas jacket and spread it under their midsections, just as they had spread the towel beneath them that afternoon on the couch in Mona's living room. The jacket beneath them, they again pressed their bodies tightly together. In a moment, Reid slid Mona's jeans and panties down over her ankles and then slipped out of his own clothing. Instantly, she clamped her soft hand-God, how often he had recalled the manipulation of those soft hands on his prick-about his engorged penis and he went on tickling her clit while she played with his testicles and lovingly handled his tool.

Mona placed her knee over his hip and guided his cock so that its dribbling head touched her clit. Then, kissing and moaning in unison, they tantalized each other by pumping so that only the swollen head of his meat slurped against the top of her pelvis. Mona's hand was against his bare ass, pulling in restrained urgency, and he tugged at her buttocks, too. They went on that way, driving each other to the point of desperation for a long time, oblivious to the sound of the surf and an occasional passing car up on the highway. Here, in the darkness and surrounded by the rocks, they were safe to play with each other's body, to delight each other, to take their time at this conspiracy of pleasure, this indulgence that would bring blessed relief to their aching genitals. It was simple: a man and a woman moving toward the inevitable-moving toward orgasm-toward sexual fulfillment that would not be denied.

"Let's-let's kiss each other down there... at the same time," Mona said.

Reid complied, changing position so that his face nuzzled in her downy pubic hair. Even in the fresh ocean air, her delicious furry nest emitted a delightful female scent and he eagerly began kissing her dewy crease and inhaling deeply while Mona showered his throbbing hard-on with kisses.

In a moment, he felt the warmth of her mouth encircle his rod, draw it deep into her mouth just as she had two years ago. With one hand she massaged his balls and with the other she held his cock at the base for support as she slid his tingling meat in and out of her hot, wet mouth. He lifted her leg and placed it over his shoulder. They lay on their sides that way then, munching at each other's crotch. With both hands, Reid parted the lips of Mona's gushing vagina and let his tongue flutter up and down, gobbling and laving at the cunt lips for a long time before he concentrated, very delicately at first, on her clitoris. Her moans grew loud now and her entire body began trembling as she lapped at his firm prick and fondled his balls. Suddenly she tore her mouth from his cook and said, "Come here, Reid. Up here! Sit on my chest and fuck my mouth!"

She flopped over onto her back then, her mouth slack in anticipation, and extended her arms beckoningly. Reid straddled her and, hard-on out before him like some searching Geiger counter, crawled toward her face on his knees until his knees rested just beneath her armpits. She took his immense organ in both hands then and began nursing on its swollen head.

It was beautiful watching her ingest his stiff rod there in the dim light. Yes, he was literally fucking her mouth. She placed one hand on his buttocks and began pulling in a rhythmic movement to simulate the motion of fucking. Reid placed both fists beneath her head so that her neck would not tire as she repeatedly raised her head to take in every inch of his cock.

From time to time, she paused and withdrew his meat from her feverish lips to gaze admiringly at its glistening, lengthy beauty. Her eyes bleary with lust, she pressed against his pelvis with her hands so that his organ reached maximum extension during her panting inspections. Then she would resume sucking again, making him fuck her mouth while she moaned loudly.

Finally, unable to stand the sensation and sight of his member entering her lovely mouth, Reid pulled away. He didn't want to come this way. He had to imbed his prick between the legs of this beauty. He had to grasp Mona's little ass hard in his hands and drive his spear into her hot cunt and he did not want to come this way in her mouth. But she seemed hell-bent on holding him in place, even though it was obvious that he was ready to finish. Once again, just as she had done that afternoon so long ago, she was ready to sacrifice her own desires for the passion of the moment.

Reid pulled away forcefully, insistently, but she moaned in muffled protest with the cock in her mouth and clung hard to his ass. She wanted him to stay where he was-to spew his sperm directly into her mouth. It was not an altogether unpleasant possibility to Reid, for even the few seconds that it would require to transfer his flaming rod from mouth to vagina would seem an eternity, he knew. Well, he thought, maybe he could hold back a few more seconds... a few more seconds... but it would be difficult... God, Mona was an expert cock-sucker! And being on top this way-aggressive rather than on his back and totally passive while a female made oral love to him-was beautiful; absolutely and incomparably beautiful.

Reid took a deep breath, concentrated on not expending his load, and with one hand began fingering Mona's dripping love slit. As he watched his cock slide in and out of Mona's lips, his hand behind his back now toying with her cunt to make it ready, he thought he would pass out-so intense was the pleasure.

"Mona... I'm going to take it out now," he said. "I've got-got to-fuck you-in your pussy. You understand? I'm going to take it out of your mouth now, honey, and-and put it where it-it belongs... in your hot little snatch, okay?"

With his cock still m her mouth, she squealed in protest, shaking her head and clutching his ass still harder. It was now or never, Reid knew. He could not hold back much longer. With a mighty effort of willpower (and physical effort) he tore his cock from the vacuum of her mouth, slid down and, parting her legs, slowly fed his cock into her steaming twat. "Ohhhh," she moaned when she was stuck good and every inch of his member had penetrated to the depths of her.

He knew it would be that way. She had enjoyed munching on his erection, naturally. But once that same prong was inside her cunt, she was like all the rest. Putty... completely and totally helpless, and riding his pole like a jockey.

Now his prick was in her pussy and he had something to hold onto-her beautifully smooth ass-and something to wrap around himself-her inner thighs and legs. Her heels began digging into the backs of his legs, too, prodding and urging him on. "Oh fuck, Reid," she cried. "Fuck!"

"See?" he asked. "Isn't it better fucking, baby? Isn't it nicer right inside your cunt? Don't you remember that day? It was fucking you wanted then, right? Sucking is fun, sure, but isn't fucking nice. Isn't it? Isn't it?"

"Oh yes... yes... yes... yes..." she chanted. "I love it in my mouth, but I-I love it in my cunt, too. Yes... yes...."

Reid slammed his hips hard at the young vagina because he could tell she wanted it that way. Long ago, their lovemaking had been a gentler thing, but this night they battered and rammed each other. In a sense, it was like another movement of the same sexual symphony. But the mood and tempo had changed and, where their previous sexual encounter had been somewhat tender, this fuck was Wagnerian, with cymbals crashing-the sound of the surf provided that-and the level of impact was fortissimo.

"Reid... Reid... Reid... Reid..." She chanted as her lubricant ran down the cheeks of her ass and into the palms of his hands that wrenched and tugged at her ass.

"Now Reid... Now Reid!" she yelled in his ear and, knowing that she was there, he dropped his control, his guard, and felt the tingling begin deep in his groin and, cresting, begin catapulting along his shaft, tickling, gouging, as his hot fluid began its pumping spurts into the interior velvet heat of Mona's spasming vagina.

They went off together-came grunting there by the sea where the grunion sometimes ran-and it was crazy but for just an instant Reid saw the grunion glistening in the moonlight as they flip-flopped on the sand, fresh from the surf just as his own sperm flip-flopped fresh from the depth of his testicles and spawned, oh, so happily now, oh, goddam, it felt good now, in the warm protective climate of Mona's cunt.

They lay clasped tight together for a long time and Reid babbled somewhat incoherently into the ear of the young girl pinned beneath him-his captive-telling him that he loved her in breathless, pathetic gasps. In a way, what he said was true. After all, when the fuck was over, you didn't have to go and tell somebody you loved her, did you? he thought. Hell, no, you didn't. That was supposed to come before the fuck so that you could lay them and then say, "I'll see you later sometime maybe."

Still, he found himself saying loving things to her and he didn't give a damn about what you were supposed to do or what you weren't supposed to do. No, that wasn't right either, he thought. He was just doing what he felt like doing. What people were supposed to do didn't have anything to do with it.

Mona was very quiet. Finally, Reid stopped saying things and they both lay quietly, listening to the surf. Jesus, Reid thought, had he really told Mona that he would love her as long as he lived? That was a pretty dumb thing to say to an eighteen-year-old. Yes, indeed. The stupidity of it was evidenced by the fact that she was now dead silent... returned to earth... the wall up again.

A few minutes later, dressed and standing under the bright floodlights on the highway, Mona said, "I could never desert Vincent, Reid. If it didn't sound so trite, I'd say he needs me. You understand, don't you?"

Reid had said all there was to say. "Yes, I understand," he said, and then he watched her walk into the distance, this time until she disappeared safely from sight.

Reid didn't realize the extent of his exhaustion until he reached the beachfront cottage. It wasn't every day that he fought off a would-be rapist and made love to a woman. He was getting old, he guessed. At thirty-six, he just didn't have the old stamina any more. He collapsed on the sofa and stared at a few dust balls that had gathered in the corner. He had been here a week now and he hadn't cleaned the place yet. He thought of the sink full of unwashed dishes, the laundry hamper filled with dirty clothes and the advertising campaigns that he had not devised, at least not successfully so far, and he wondered what the hell he was going to do and where the hell he was going.

For the first time he noticed that there was a slight odor to the cottage, that the wallpaper was somewhat gaudy and the grass-mat floor covering was worn in places. Actually, it was Mona he missed. He felt incomplete. It wasn't just enough to lay a girl you truly cared for. He wanted her here now so that he could talk to her, look at her, listen to music with her, even read a book sitting next to her. Well, that was nothing new, he decided. He was afflicted with what they call loneliness. He had never thought he would see the day when he, Reid Hartley, boy wonder, would be lonely. But he was.

He went over to the typewriter and slammed the carriage hard, stupidly, and then he tore up the notes he had been collecting on the brassiere campaign and let the pieces snowfall into the wastebasket.

Well tomorrow was another day. He would clean the place up, take his clothes to the laundry and then tackle the problem of how to sell Wonder-Lift brassieres again. Maybe he would even call up an old girl friend and have her come down for a few days. What the hell? Girls liked to come down to the beach, didn't they? He knew one thing. He had to get Mona Seagram out of his mind. In anger, he hit the knotty pine wall hard with his fist. Then he went back into the small bedroom, undressed, climbed between the sheets and fell instantly into a deep sleep.