Chapter 3
By the third week of his "working vacation" in Malibu Beach, Reid Hartley was firmly convinced that he was a candidate for The Funny Farm. Although he had several approaches to both the Wonder-Lift bra account, as well as the Gibbons toothpaste account, he was not satisfied with any of them. The trouble was, he had lost confidence in himself. He didn't know whether they were good or not. His former brilliant and intuitive flashes that had made companies millions seemed to have abandoned him-degenerated to mere craftsmanship.
Also, he had not been able to get Mona Seagram out of his mind. He had not telephoned any of his other girl friends as he had contemplated. Instead, he had made daily journeys to the antique shop where he had seen Mona. But she seemed to have vanished. He sat this afternoon, staring out at the fog-shrouded sea, depressed and feeling sorry for himself. Christ, he was lonely! Still, he found himself taking a kind of masochistic pleasure in his unhappiness. It was almost as though he felt he deserved unhappiness. Yes, unhappiness was his penance for not being, irrefutably, the best ad man in the business.
He sighed. If Malibu Beach was supposed to be something special, he didn't know why. For three straight days now, the sky had been overcast, a perpetual and depressing gray-damp and looking as though it would never change. Instead of returning from his "working vacation" sporting a tan and armed with the solution to the Gibbons and Wonder-Lift accounts, he would be pallid and defeated. Yes, this was one hell of a way to spend a vacation in June. He would almost rather be back working in the tedious pressure of the office-the rat race at Luben's Ad Agency.
He sat on the rustic porch that fronted the ocean, trying to decide whether or not to pack up and forget his beach vacation. Even the intense summer heat of Palm Springs would be preferable to the endless gray, he thought. Yes, he thought, maybe he should pack up, forget the rental money he would lose for the remainder of the week, and head for the desert. Screw Malibu. Even the night life had proved disappointing. He'd spent too much time frequenting the bars and bar/restaurants that dotted the highway and met nothing but dull tourists. Where was Mona? Where did she spend her free time? He hadn't been able to find her anywhere. One bar, reputedly an artists' hangout, had raised his hopes, but it turned out to be nothing but a lesbian rendezvous. Yeah, screw Malibu, he thought.
Reid glanced at his wristwatch and had to rub the dampness from the crystal to read the time. Three o'clock in the afternoon and he hadn't even seen the sun yet. He withdrew a soggy cigarette from the pack on the wet table beside him, lit it with effort, and listened to the boom of the breakers just forty feet away. Sometimes, if he was lucky, he could make out the white surf splashing toward him across the smooth sand-that is, if it was a particularly big wave. Whoopee....
In a moment, his cigarette went out. He threw it angrily from the porch, stepped onto the sand and began walking south. He wore a white, short-sleeved terry cloth top, bathing trunks and sandals. He trudged through the sand to where the white foam splashed flat, letting the salt water wash over his feet as he went. Screw everything, he thought. Why couldn't he seem to get Mona out of his mind? Even the waves gathering reminded him of the curves and swells of her body and the sound of the surf only brought painful memories of the night they'd made love in the rocks by the sea.
"M-O-N-A-" That's what the tide and the breeze and the retreating foam said... that's what everything seemed to be saying.
Reid guessed that he had been insane to take this vacation by himself. He knew of at least two girls (if you could refer to females twenty-six and twenty-seven as girls) who would gladly have accompanied him anywhere on a vacation. But he had convinced himself that he had to work and that company would interfere with his work. Yes, either Pam or Jan would have leaped at the chance. But, no. He had visions of accomplishing some kind of miracle, conceiving some new and exciting ad campaigns. So now he was just plain lonely.
Oddly, at first, he had even half toyed with the idea of reaching some kind of decision regarding Janet. She wanted to get married, and it occurred to him that a thirty-six-year-old bachelor with a nice five-figure income maybe ought to settle down again, forget the divorce of his twenties. Janet would be good for him, he knew. She certainly was good in the sack. She was a fuck and a half, all right. If he telephoned her right now, she could be with him tonight. But then that would be a kind of defeat. No, it would be better to stick it out a while longer, he decided. If the weather didn't improve by the end of the week he would head for the desert, get a tan and forget all about Mona for good... if he could....
Walking along the beach that way, scanning the endless gray horizon, his shoulders slumped, Reid Hartley was not at all the man he permitted the world to see at Luben's Ad Agency. There, he was known as a kind of "genius who was in a temporary slump"-a hardworking guy who somehow remained optimistic even though he was having problems maintaining his reputation. Now, the meticulously combed steel-gray hair, the erect posture, the firm and determined jaw, the intense alertness, were missing. His hair was damp and tousled, his aggressive stride had deteriorated to an aimless shuffle.
He had walked perhaps half a mile when he sighted, to his left, large lanterns hanging in a partly enclosed porch. A crude sign on the rear of the building read simply: THE SHACK. It was obviously a commercial place of business-a bar, no doubt. He had not ventured this far since his arrival at Malibu, and therefore he hadn't noticed the place before. Reid paused, deliberating, then decided to mount the rickety, wooden stairway.
When he reached the top of the stairs, he could see that it was definitely a bar. People in casual attire sat on high stools and at crude, wooden tables, and he could see a bartender standing before a buzzing blender and glasses in front of people. He went inside.
The interior of the bar was not modern. In fact, if anything there was an obvious attempt at creating a kind of antique, junklike atmosphere. But it wasn't the decor that caught Reid's eye so much as the clientele. Once again, it seemed, he had stumbled into a lesbian bar. Except for two rather effeminate-looking men giggling in the corner, the eight or nine patrons scattered about the room were obviously dykes. At second glance, though, he noticed what appeared to be fairly normal-looking couples sitting back against the wall. It was difficult to tell for sure. The place was very dark. He took a seat at the bar and the bartender placed a napkin before him.
"What will you have, sir?" the man asked. There was no hostility in his voice and the patrons apparently didn't even know he had entered the room.
"Beer," Reid said. "A bottle of Schlitz, please." He didn't really want a beer. Actually, he was just killing time. No, in all honesty, this was one place he hadn't frequented and he had to admit that he hoped that perhaps Mona Seagram might be here. He silently cursed himself for allowing a teenage girl to be leading him around by the nose-to be directing his movements and occupying his thoughts to exclusion of everything else. Like the protagonist in Nabokov's Lolita, he had become obsessed with a nymphet-a girl far too young for him, a girl who could only bring him catastrophe and unhappiness. Really, he should leave this motley bunch and get back to his cottage and go to work. And then suddenly he decided he wanted it to be overcast again tomorrow so that he could pack up and head for the desert... forget Mona Seagram forever.
The bartender set the beer in front of him and before he could take a sip he saw her-Mona Seagram. She had come from the darkness at the far side of the room, apparently one of the couples he hadn't been able to see clearly, with Vincent probably. She ordered two bottles of beer, and Reid wondered why Vincent didn't fetch the beers. Was the sculptor-slob (he couldn't help thinking of Vincent as anything but a slob) trying to make a slave out of Mona?
Reid stared at her, his heart pounding inside his chest, his breath coming faster. As she waited, she rested her chin on her hand, her elbow on the bar, studying the rows of amber bottles almost clinically. Reid wanted to call out to her but he could not. God, she was beautiful! She had abandoned the Indian outfit and now wore tight denims-so tight the seams seemed ready to burst-and her breasts were bare almost down to the nipples. Yes, she wore a man's type shirt-probably one of that bastard Vincent's shirts-and the partly unbuttoned front displayed her full, rounded bosoms. Again, she wore no bra. Ah! there was a slogan for him: Wonder-Lift is like no bra at all. How could he be thinking of Wonder-Lift at a time like this? Had his job become a kind of curse-a thing he could never rid his brain of?
Just then she turned her head and sighted him. She seemed surprised, but then she smiled quizzically, her long, ebony hair-straight and shining and casual on her shoulders, framing her delicate features. She blinked her long lashes and he stared into her enormous blue eyes, heavy with eye shadow, her eyebrows exaggerated, penciled heavily. She had made an amazing transformation. She didn't even remotely resemble the Indian girl he had made love to on the sand. She was everything a man could want and, oddly, she looked much older than eighteen now. They just went on that way, staring at each other.
Finally, unable to endure her gaze any longer, Reid said, "Hello, Mona."
"Hello, Reid," she said. When the bartender set the two beers in front of her, she paid him and then came over and sat down beside him.
"I've been looking for you, Mona. I-I guess I've been looking for you everywhere. You don't go to the antique shop often, do you?"
She shook her head. "No, almost never. Why have you been looking for me, Reid? Just to-to fuck me again?"
"Why do you think? I've really been looking for you-everywhere. I can't seem to stop thinking about you. Don't reduce my search to just-just physical. All I said was that I've been looking for you and I can't stop thinking about you, okay?"
"Okay. Listen, I have to take one of these beers over to my friend. Then I'll be back. Sit tight."
She left and a moment later, as promised, returned.
"Who was the beer for?" he asked. "Vincent?"
She shook her head very slowly, significantly, a peculiar smile playing about the corners of her mouth. "There are some things I didn't tell you, Reid," she said finally. "You see, there is no Vincent. That beer was for Mike, Mike is a girl. Actually her name is Michele. I'm sorry I lied to you, Reid, but I didn't think you'd understand."
Reid grabbed for a pretzel and chewed on it frantically. Yes, he felt quite sure of it now. He was going mad. And so was everybody else!
"Oh, there was a Vincent, all right," Mona said. "For a while there was a Vincent, but he just took off. That's the way men are, right? They find a better set of tits or something and then it's poof and they're gone, right?"
"I wouldn't know," Reid said. He was beginning to get the picture and he was beginning to feel faintly nauseated. It was fairly apparent that Mona-his beautiful Mona-was telling him that she was les. Still, after their love session at the shore he found this hard to believe. One thing was certain. If Mona had turned lesbian, she comprised definitely the female part of the relationship. He wondered if her girl friend/boyfriend, or whatever it called itself, couldn't be far away.
Reid forced a laugh, which came out sounding like a gurgle, and glanced over his shoulder at the girls sitting at the tables. Now that his eyes had accustomed themselves to the lighting, he saw that what he had assumed were heterosexual couples were, in reality, dykes and their fem girl friends. Although he couldn't be certain, a huge blonde in a buckskin jacket and baggy jeans qualified as his rival. Her narrowed eyes were hate-filled and apprehensive. Holding a cigarette crudely between her teeth, she lit it, then sent the smoke hissing at him as though it were venom.
"Is your friend Mike wearing a kind of cowboy jacket?" Reid asked.
"Right," Mona said, "and to be perfectly honest with you I'm trying to make her jealous right now."
"I think you're succeeding," Reid said. "She's pawing the floor and breathing fire. I think it's an awful waste-someone like you, Mona, giving yourself to a-a creep like her. Tell me, you weren't kidding me the other night, were you? I mean, you do like men, too?"
"You know better than to ask me that, Reid. I'm not that good an actress. You turn me on and you know it. You turned me on since that first day at my father's place. You might say that it was my father who sort of turned me off."
Reid looked directly into Mona's deep blue eyes and with great seriousness asked, "Are you salvageable?"
Mona merely laughed and draped her arm over his shoulder.
"What's that for?" Reid asked. "To make the dyke jealous?"
Mona shrugged. "Maybe. I'm not sure. We'll have to wait and see."
"You are becoming a most puzzling young lady," Reid said.
"I know," Mona said, and then she gave him a kiss on the cheek and hugged him. "Just play along with me for a little while, okay? I promise you won't be sorry, Reid. Please?"
"Okay, my little ding-a-ling. Whatever you say, but tell me one thing: Does your friend carry weapons? I mean, is she partial to knives or anything? Basically I'm a coward and I don't like my body stabbed or shot or maimed in any way, shape, or manner."
"Oh, no," Mona assured. "Nothing like that. Let's go to my place now. It's just down the beach. All right?"
Reid gulped down the last of his beer. "All right. Let's," he said. All of a sudden he didn't give a damn. He wanted Mona, no matter what. He had been searching for her for days and, now that he was assured that Mike would not be throwing sticks of dynamite at him, he was curious to know just what was going on inside Mona's beautiful little head.
As they stood up, Mona kissed him on the cheek and glanced defiantly over toward Mike. Then she led him through the rear exit and down the wooden stairway to the beach. There, she encircled his waist with her arm and they walked through the deep sand like lovers strolling between lovemaking sessions.
"It's just a little ways farther," she said.
Reid kissed her on the cheek as they walked. He couldn't believe that he had found Mona at last. It seemed too good to be true! The circumstances were a bit weirder than he had anticipated, true, but here he was walking arm in arm with the girl who had haunted his sexual fantasies for years.
"When does the gag end?" he asked.
"The gag?"
"You succeeded in making your girl friend jealous, right? So what do we do now? Have coffee somewhere and return with our hair all mussed up? Look disheveled? Just what is your plan, my sweet?"
Mona giggled, stopped in her tracks, and then pressed her body hard against his. The big breakers boomed onto the beach as she ground her breasts and hips hard into him. Her mouth was open-wet and urgent against his. When they finally parted, she said, "Now do you think all I want is coffee? Don't be an idiot, Reid. I want to fuck. Ever since that day with you I've loved to fuck. God, every girl should have a man like you to break her in right. No, Reid. I want to fuck a man! And you, my sweet thing, are one of the few real men I've encountered."
"Then why this bit with Michele-Mike, whatever-I don't understand." He held his hands out beseechingly.
"You'll understand. I'll-I'll explain. Please. Just be patient for a little while." She put her arm around his waist again and they continued walking.
In a few minutes, Mona pointed to a two-story house with an enormous patio filled with cushy furniture, all wrought iron and white leatherette. She led the way up the short stairway, opened the sliding glass doors, and they stepped inside one of the plushest beach houses Reid had ever seen. There was a large bar in one corner-six or seven stools-which was well stocked with every conceivable kind of liquor and liqueur, a built-in TV, wood paneling on the walls, and several obviously expensive oil paintings on the walls. One painting in particular caught his eye. It was a huge portrayal of two voluptuous women in a passionate embrace. One of the girls cupped her partner's breasts while the other reciprocated by fondling the first's genital area.
Reid whistled softly. "Nice place you have here," he said. "You have good tastes-I must say."
Mona again pressed herself to him, just as she had on the beach. "I have to confess that I lied to you just a little, Reid," she said. "I do accept some help from Daddy still. He pays the rent here, for instance." She grinned, following his gaze to the picture of the two naked girls on the wall. "Vincent painted it before he left," she said. "Not a bad painting for a sculptor, uh? He became a little disillusioned with my relationship with Mike before he left, so he left me that little memento. The blonde is supposed to be Mike and the brunette is supposed to be me."
"Charming," Reid said, suddenly angry. "Are you in love with her or what?"
"No-I-I don't think so. Right after I got out of the hospital-I wasn't lying about that-she was very good to me. I met her one night at The Shack, had a little too much to drink and...."
"Nice place, The Shack," Reid said. "They serve eighteen-year-olds and promote lesbianism."
Mona just shrugged and shook her head helplessly. Then she faced him and slipped her hand beneath his terry cloth top and began running her smooth hand over his chest. "I guess I was just a poor little rich girl out for kicks. I know one thing, though. I still dig men-real men like you-no matter what kicky things Mike does to me. When it comes right down to it I guess I'm what Mike calls a 'dumb little heterosexual country girl.' I-I get a different tingle with a man... different vibrations entirely. Shall we tingle?"
"Why?" Reid asked. "Just to flaunt that freak, Mike?"
Conflicting emotions surged within Reid. The thought of this delectable girl in the arms of the blonde beast she called Mike tortured him and, at the same time, intrigued him. In a way, he felt as though he would be compared, tested, rated. Somehow, he felt vaguely inadequate. Mona claimed she wanted to have sex with him, but she had also claimed she wanted to make Mike jealous. It was all very confusing-especially the lies she had told him. They hadn't been necessary and he found himself wondering if maybe she had become some kind of compulsive liar. Still, his erection seemed ready to burst through his trunks. There was something about her that he simply could not resist. Suddenly he grabbed her, pulling her hard against him.
She must have read the conflict in his eyes, for she reached down and began squeezing his erection while he massaged her breasts. "It's just you, Reid," she breathed. "Right now it's just you and me. Forget Mike. I'm not thinking of a woman now while I'm playing with your-your beautiful thing. How could I? I just want you, Reid."
Reid started to lower her onto the rattan sofa, but she, instead, led him by the hand to the bedroom. There, she stood by the king-size bed and tantalizingly removed her denims and blouse. She stepped from the pile of clothing, running her hands over her nipples, then down over the curve of her hips. As she lay on the bed, her knees tucked up under her chin, he could see the delectable soft hair and moist line of her vagina.
"Why don't you take off your clothes and free that bulging prick of yours?" she cooed. "Take off your clothes and fuck me, Reid."
Without taking his eyes from her, Reid pulled the terry cloth top over his head, slid out of his trunks and crawled onto the bed beside her. Instantly, their bodies locked together, Reid cupping her firm breasts while Mona clamped her hand tightly about his bone-hard penis.
Mona's mouth was lapping his as though it were an ice cream cone. He responded, licking hungrily at her mouth, then lowered his head and drew each of the erect nipples deep into his mouth, nursing, kneading with both hands. Now, both of Mona's hands fumbled crazily with his manhood, gently groping and tickling his rod and balls as he continued lapping and sucking at her delicious breasts.
"Oh, I love your big, hard cock," Mona gasped, trancelike. "I love that great big stiff man's prick! I want to suck on it, I want it inside my cunt, I want it everywhere... everywhere...."
Reid's hand palmed her firm butt that writhed and rotated beneath his urgent touch. He ran his hand lingeringly over her delectable belly and finally down to her dripping snatch. "I could never get tired of doing things to you, Mona," he murmured. "Never."
She began moaning as he gently massaged her clitoris and placed her legs tightly together to achieve the full friction of his probing finger. When he began his descent, it was as though they had read each other's minds... the way it had been on the beach... the way it had been years before when she had been barely more than a little girl. His mouth moved down from her breasts, lapping cuntward at the same instant her hand exerted pressure to push him in that direction.
Mona's head tossed from side to side feverishly as she urged him on, tore at his hair with her fingernails, and moaned pitifully. "Oh, Reid... yes... yes... you know just what I need... what I want... yes... you always did...."
His mouth finally settled on the silky, female scent of her love mound, and he began kissing-just kissing at first-then he spread her legs wide as he lapped hungrily up and down the entire length of her juicy cunt. Again and again, she lifted her buttocks high to engulf more and more of his gulping mouth. Finally, he settled down to the business at hand and concentrated strictly on her tingling nerve center. He moved his tongue horizontally, tenderly at first, until she began taking his hair in great handfuls, driving him to greater and greater pressure as her mewing rose to hysterical shrieks.
"Gobble it, Reid!" she screamed. "Swallow my cunt whole!"
"Then, just as they had done on the beach, with great effort she suddenly tore his mouth from her gushing slit and reversed herself on the bed so that she could feast on him, too. They lapped greedily at each other's genitals, gorging themselves, grunting to the accompaniment of the squeaking, rolling bed as they lost all contact with this world.
When the time was right-it was again as though they had read each other's mind-they ceased tonguing each other's crotch at the same instant. Reid reversed himself and slid his hips between her saliva-wet thighs.
"Yes... Fuck... Fuck!" Mona pleaded, whimpering pitifully. "Put it in... put it in my pussy... stick it all inside me... my pussy's all yours and it wants your big dong inside it!"
Skillfully, one hand guided his engorged member into her swollen, ovenlike cavern while her other hand clawed at his buttocks. When he had entered her entirely, jammed his cock into her slick chasm to the hilt, she placed her heels on his shoulders and spurred him on frantically. He felt them pummeling his shoulders as she drove fiercely, the entire lower half of her body rising, thrusting, grinding her pelvis into his own. And then, she assumed her "ready to come" position-her favorite-and lowering her legs, locked her heels behind his knees.
"Ohhhh... Ohhhh," she gasped, and he knew she had reached her climax.
"No... no," she squealed. "Not yet... not yet... almost... almost... there... there... OHHHHH, THERRRE!"
A moment later, he too reached the peak. Still propping himself up on his elbows over her, he shuddered in electric ecstasy as wave after wave of sobbing, spasming, orgasmic waves racked both their bodies.
Gradually, he returned to the now and found himself muttering something in her ear. What he had been saying he did not know, but she was crying against his shoulder and repeating again and again, "Yes... oh, yes... yes... yes...."
"Look at the goddam animals-fuckin' like they was in a barn!" a cold, high-pitched yet husky voice interrupted from the doorway behind.
Reid turned with a start and saw big, blonde Mike, Mona's dyke friend, standing there sneering. Her face took on a kind of grin, but there was no humor in the narrowed, raging eyes.
"That was the gruntiest screw I ever saw," the big dyke said. "How disgusting can you get?"
"What-what are you doing here?" Mona gasped.
"You wanted to get me mad, make me jealous?" Mike said. "Okay, you succeeded. Now that you've got your occasional man-fuck out of your system, tell him to get his ass out of here. Let's go back to being civilized again."
"You had no right-to come here," Mona said. "It wasn't right-" She stopped talking abruptly and peered beyond Mike. "Who-who is that with you?"
Reid lifted himself up on one elbow and saw that there was someone else with Mike.
"Just a little assistance I brought along," Mike said. "In case lover boy here decides to make trouble."
"Maxine?" Mona asked, squinting, still trying to make out the figure in the living room.
"Yeah, Max," Mike said. "That's right."
Reid felt the adrenalin surging through him. He sat up. "Mona, do you want these freaks here or not?" he asked.
"No, Reid, I didn't invite them and they have no business just coming in this way."
Reid hastily slipped into his trunks and stood up. "All right, girls. You heard her. Out!"
Max, who was even bigger than Mike, moved into the doorway and they both stood there smugly, defiantly.
Reid strode directly to them, took each one by the arm and started toward the glass sliding doors. "Be nice little dykes now and just run along now," he coaxed as he went.
Suddenly Max caught him in the back of the head with a vicious blow with her forearm. Reid had the sudden and terrifying feeling that maybe these freaks had studied karate. He saw stars as he went staggering across the room. Luckily, he sidestepped just in time to avoid Mike's deadly kick at his groin. He stood there then, panting, something deep inside him preventing him from lashing out at these two dykes. You did not hit females, he thought. Men did not use violence against women, something from far in his past cried out. But then he suddenly realized that these were not real women; they weren't even female. With effort, he suspended the idea briefly that the objects of his assault were not female. First, he hurled himself at big Max and sent her spinning and crashing against the sliding glass door. He slid the door open then and literally threw her from the porch onto the beach. She wriggled for a moment, then lay still.
He turned just in time to ward off Mike, who came at him wielding a vase like a battle-axe. He caught her arm and threw her back against the wall. As she started to rise, he deliberately removed the painting of the lesbian lovers from the wall-the one Vincent had painted in despair prior to leaving Mona-and brought it down with all his might on her head.
The big dyke groaned dazedly and, before she could regain her senses, Reid raced her across the room and flung her, too, from the porch onto the sand below.
Max, who had regained her senses, now helped Mike to her feet and then they both began half running, half stumbling through the sand into the distance.
Reid stood there, breathing hard as he watched them flee for safety. Finally, he was aware that Mona was standing beside him. "I'm sorry, Mona," he said. "I know they're your friends, but I-well, they asked for it, didn't they? "I'm sorry I ruined your painting."
Mona's arm slid around his waist. "Reid, it's something I should have done myself a long time ago. Good God, you get involved with someone like that and they just won't leave you alone. I guess I was on some kind of crazy 'trip.' I didn't fully realize it until we were together just a while ago. I guess I needed somebody or something to jar me away from that-that dyke scene. There was more to it than I guessed. It got awfully damned complicated. But I'm out of it now. I know I am.
He turned and saw that she was smiling in relief, looking up gratefully into his eyes. He gazed into her big, blue eyes and held her close, again their bodies pressed together. He felt something he had never felt with any other woman in his life. There in the salt air with the sound of the surf pounding in his ears, he doubted if he would ever care for another woman the way he now cared for Mona. There was only one trouble-the obvious one... their age difference. Mona had mentioned the difficulty in socializing and whatever else she had done in a society of lesbians. The same held true in functioning in a normal society when the age difference was so glaring between a man and woman.
There would be an awful lot to talk about, but somehow he knew he had to be with Mona, that somehow they would find a way to be together. He would have to work things out with Janet, too. Janet had become very dependent on him-probably even expected to marry him. Now the name Janet seemed only a word from the past.
"Let's go inside, Mona," he said suddenly. "I want to talk to you about a rather serious matter."
She grew fearful. "You're not angry with me, are you?" she asked.
He smiled and took her hand reassuringly. "No, Mona. I've made a decision and I just want to see how you feel about it, that's all."
She seemed relieved. "Oh, I'm so glad you're not angry. I thought you might scold me and then just leave. I-I don't want to be alone right now. Can you stay awhile?"
"I don't have to be back at the office for five more days," he said, grinning.
"Ummm, five whole days," Mona said. "And will you show a girl some more of what she's been missing during those five days?"
"I guess I could be persuaded, yes," Reid said. "Providing you cooperate, of course."
Mona's hand stole down and began rubbing his dormant cock tantalizingly, artfully bringing it to life. "Gladly," he said. "Yes, I'll gladly show you what we've both been missing." He removed her hand-it was an effort, but he placed her hand on his shoulder with difficulty-and then he spoke seriously. "But what I'm concerned about is after the five days. Come on inside."
He sat her down in the living room and spoke frankly. He told her that he wanted a "continuing" relationship with her. He proposed that since the season was nearly over anyway, she return to the city with him in five days and come to work as his personal secretary at Luben's Ad Agency. There would be no problem, he explained. The agency allowed him free rein. He could do whatever he pleased-hiring an assistant, whatever-so long as he delivered results and handled his accounts successfully. Mona typed and took shorthand and that was a definite plus. He explained that he wanted to take care of her and that he needed her. He made the point, too, that a change of environment and ceasing to live a useless life might be good therapy. A place to go and something to do each day might be good for her, he pointed out.
When he had finished, she came and knelt at his feet and expressed her gratitude tearfully. "Oh, that sounds wonderful, Reid," she sobbed. "You seem to know just what I need."
"I'll rent you an apartment in my building," he said.
"Oh, yes," she said. "That sounds marvelous-just marvy! Right now, though, there's something else I want."
Her fingers worked tickingly on his crotch and then she slid his trunks down and gazed worshipfully at his lazy hard-on. He watched her as she kissed his testicles, tongued his prick and finally took the entire shaft into her mouth and, mewing, began sucking his cock with all the skill of a seasoned prostitute. She was not a whore, of course, and her act was one of gratitude-of love.
Twice he tried to stop her-wanting to make love to her-but she wouldn't hear of it. He had no idea, as lovely Mona munched on his engorged tool, that the act was a foreshadowing of things to come, for it was this very act that Mona now performed that would take him out of his "slump" and make him the most successful account executive in the history of Luben's (or any other) advertising agency. Though he did not know it, Mona would be the instrument of his phenomenal and meteoric success.
He watched her lap at his hard prick adoringly until she finished him. She was like a woman gone mad as the contents of his balls exploded in her mouth. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and he nearly blacked out-so intense was his pleasure. Then, after a few minutes, they went hand-in-hand to the bedroom to take a nap before beginning their five-day orgy of delight.
Mona had been worth waiting for, unquestionably. There would be five days of unspeakable ecstasy. Then they would return together to the city and an entirely new and exciting life with Mona beside him, both at his apartment and at work.