Chapter 2
When Carol had arrived home that evening she showered and climbed onto the soft bed. Her thoughts returned to the session with Bruce. He had muscles, all right. No denying that. He was the super-athletic type. He was coordinated and skilled in and form of physical activity. And lovemaking is a physical activity, she decided. He was -very, very good in bed, and she would be a liar if she said that lie didn't satisfy her. She was turned on by his power and vigor.
But there was something lacking in his performance, some ingredient was missing. Suddenly she realized what it was. There was only a physical quality in his lovemaking. The spiritual quality was missing. And that, Carol knew, was what she needed most.
If she could find that, then life could be worthwhile after all.
She was glad she had quit her job though. Working with Bruce would give some meaning to her life now. She really couldn't understand either why she was so flippant with Bruce. It was just the way he affected her, she guessed. She had always considered herself a serious person but with Bruce, well, since he never seemed to be serious ... what other way could she act?
He was good in bed—that was for certain. He could satisfy her physically—the spiritual part—well, maybe that would come later with someone else. As she thought of Bruce she felt the moisture gathering at her crotch. It didn't surprise her because she'd long ago realized that she was a passionate girl. Since the realization she'd accepted it as a normal thing for herself- She reached down and rubbed her tingling pussy and wished ... the door buzzer interrupted any further thought. She got out of bed and slipped on a robe. Now, she thought, who can that be?
When she opened the door Bruce stood there grinning. He was holding a large sack in his arms. "I have here," he said, "everything else you need to put you in shape. "Vitamins, supplements, some special health foods, and some organic foods that I insist you use."
Carol didn't say anything. She just stood there and looked at the muscular man and his sack of groceries .
"I, uh," he stammered in the face of her silence, "I thought you might like some company, too. I was out taking my regular evening walk and stopped by the store, then decided to stop by here. Hope you don't mind?"
"No," she was still stunned as she answered him. In fact she was glad to see him, but she had not expected this. Maybe he wanted to fuck her again. That thought caused a slow burning sensation to creep up through her body.
"Where shall I put the groceries?"
"Oh," she realized she couldn't let him remain standing in the door. "Come on in." She turned and let him toward the kitchen. "Put the sack there." She motioned toward the counter.
What was there about this man? She couldn't decide. In his eyes she saw the desire there. She couldn't pull her eyes from his face. She felt the tightening dissolve and in its place a fiery heat exploded in her stomach and the warmth of it spread through her body. For a second she thought she was going to collapse in a heap of quivering flesh. Instead, she closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath. Bruce pulled her to him and she felt his strong arms around her. She buried her face into his shoulder, breathing in the strong masculine smell of him.
He pulled her face up to his and kissed her; first lightly, then, as if wild, he put his hand on the back of her head and pulled her lips into his. She thrust her body up to his and pushed with all the strength she had.
Her blood raced at the exciting sensation his tongue produced. She wondered if he were going to fuck her right here or on the floor; she didn't care.
It was all so fast for her, but she liked the excitement that was spreading through her body. Her moist cunt needed what Bruce had to offer, and when she became aware of this, she couldn't resist any longer.
He let her go long enough to lead him into the bedroom. When the door closed, she turned and found him looking at her with lustful anticipation. He reached for her and she came into his arms. He crushed his lips against her partly opened mouth. Their tongues lashed at each other. She moaned slightly when he pulled her body in close and she felt his rock-hard cock pressing against her belly. She ground her crotch against his penis with wild excitement. "Oh, Bruce," she moaned.
His hands were all over her. He reached down and pushed his hands under the pajama bottoms and fondled her ass. He cupped the cheeks in both hands and pulled her even closer.
"You're really something," he breathed into her ear.
She moaned again in sheer delight and drove her tongue farther into his mouth. She felt one of his hands fumbling with the two buttons that held her pajama top on.
For a moment she tightened again. "What are you doing?" she said.
"Removing your top, sugar, so I can see and play with your lovely tits." He finished unbuttoning, and the front fell loose. She wriggled out of the sleeves. Her tits popped out at him, large and sensuous.
"Beautiful," he breathed. "Simply beautiful." He cupped a hand under one, then under the other. "In the days to come, I think I shall be giving these a good deal of attention." He leaned over, sucking her right tit.
His broad face went radiant, illuminated by a boyish, shy halo. He looked directly into her eyes. "Do I please you?"
Her blood was wine and she felt high, giddy. "Yes, you please me terribly." It was true—in every way. There was not one thing she would have changed about him, but certain thoughts did go through her mind. Did she love him? No. Yet her body said yes. Her mind remained curiously silent, as if it were waiting for a verdict. She could just divorce love from sex all together. He attracted her physically, yet was this what mattered. Was this all there was to it? She had, then, a peculiar sensation some unknown watcher above had opened a sliding door in the ceiling and was looking down—waiting for her reply.
Her hand moved, seemingly of its own accord, to his crotch, and she felt the heat of his cock as it throbbed in hardness. His face was very white, his nostrils dilated. She felt incredibly beautiful. She wished she had the red dress on now and very thin gold earrings, so he could undress her. She thought of all the lovely things she would have liked to have done if she had been a different land of, woman. She wished she could have been dark and sultry or exceedingly blonde and lithe with very small feet. But most of all she wished she could be anything he wanted her to be.
She raised her head wonderingly. "Do you really like me?" she asked.
He leaned to her breasts, sucking first the right tit, then her left, bringing the little brown nipples to rigid attention.
A tingling sensation ran through her.
"Hurry," she begged. "Please hurry!"
"Patience, my sweet. I'm enjoying very much what I'm doing."
Scooping her in his arms, he carried her to a chair and sat her down in his lap. She began to kiss him feverishly. Making little whimpering sounds, she kissed every part of his face, licking each part with her tongue.
He thrust his hand between her spread legs and felt the warm wetness of her twat.
She was now wildly aroused, squirming in his arms, thrusting her cunt against his penetrating finger.
"Fuck me!" she cried. "Oh, please fuck me!" Now that she had said it, she realized it wasn't so difficult,, after all.
"Wouldn't you like to see my cock first?"
"Oh, yes!" she said. "Oh, I would! Please take it out and show it to me!"
"Take what out?"
"Your prick, darling. Your cock."
"That's better." He kissed her. "I like to hear you call it a prick. It excited me to hear you call it what it is."
Carol was beside herself with lust and desire. Her body sang with passion. "The physical culturist's finger was almost causing her to come.
"Hurry and take out your prick. Show it to me! Please, Bruce!"
He lifted her again, swung around and placed her on the edge of the chair.
She spread her legs so that her cunt was beautifully revealed. He moved between her legs and unzipped his pants. His cock popped out immediately. He was wearing no shorts. Carol wondered briefly if he had left them off especially for this match. And that is what she decided to call it—a match! She was pitting her passion against his.
"Oh, how wonderful!" she breathed, staring fascinated at his hard-on. She took it in her fist and began pulling the foreskin back and forth.
"Kiss it!" he demanded, his voice hoarse. "Suck it!"
"Yes. Oh, yes!" She leaned forward and, holding the length of his prick with one hand, licked the head, making lovely moaning sounds. Then she took the length of it into her mouth.
As she sucked, Carol realized that Bruce was finishing undressing. When everything was off, she reached between his legs and fondled his balls.
Bruce groaned with sheer pleasure. With an effort, he removed his cock from between her hot lips and lifted her.
"Come," he said. "I think we've both tortured ourselves enough. It's time to fuck."
He carried her to the bed and laid her on her back. She immediately spread her legs wide. He knelt between them, his cock sticking straight out and up. She reached for it as he came down on her. She steered it into the warm depths of her cunt, a loud moan of joy escaping her lips.
"Give it to me, darling! Fuck me! Fuck the hell out of me!"
He drove his prick in up to the hilt. She felt his balls bang against her small asshole and it gave her a new thrill. She gave a gasp of pleasure. The impact sent new shivers up her back.
He began a circular, in and out motion, precise and delightful. He was a real pro at it.
"Ooooo!" she cooed. "It feels so wonderful! Fuck me! Fuck me harder!"
She clutched him about the shoulders frantically. She opened her mouth wide, crying out in sheer joy. She braced her feet on the bed arid thrust her ass up to meet his downward plunges. Moments later, her beautiful legs were waving in the air above his back.
He was working faster now, plunging his cock down into the deep recesses of her. cunt in short hard jabs.
He drove his tongue far into her mouth, sucked her tongue for a moment, then pulled it out. Keeping his mouth close to hers, he murmured, "You're a wonderful fuck, my darling. I knew you would be once you turned on. You have the sexiest cunt I've ever seen and the most beautiful tits."
The words thrilled her, made her enjoyment even greater than ever.
"I love your cock, my precious," she said, "I love feeling it inside my cunt, fucking. Every time your balls bang up against my ass I get a new thrill. You really know how to excite a girl."
Her words seemed to excite him as much as his had excited her. He went at her savagely now. He backed his prick almost to the entrance of her pussy and she shrieked in protest at the withdrawal; then she cried out in ecstasy as he fiercely drove its full length back inside her dripping, hungry pussy. He repeated the maneuver several more times.
Suddenly she felt a prickling and tightening sensation along her loins; it was the beginning of her orgasm.
"I've started coming, darling!" she cried. "I'm coming! Oh, please come with me! Please, sweetie. God, it's good. So good!"
"I'm with you! I'm with you!"
His cock became a pile driver, thrusting, thrusting, thrusting into the depths of her cunt. Her shrieks of joy mingled with his groans of agonized pleasure. Abruptly she felt the head of his cock swell. Then he exploded inside her, his hot sperm filling her cunt.
Simultaneously she reached the peak of her own orgasm, thrusting her ass upward to savor every last ounce of the wonderful sensation.
At last it was over. She lay back exhausted, spent, knowing a wonderful feeling of euphoria. He let his limp, sticky prick soak inside her for a moment before removing it.
"Darling," she said, and it was so sweet to say darling. "I love you. Do I feel good to you?"
"Very good."
"Am I different—from the others, I mean?" She hesitated. "Would you know me ... in the dark?"
"Yes." His lips were on hers. "I'd know you—I'd go through a hundred women in the dark and still know you."
"What am I like?"
"Like honey, like a deep pool of honey. Baby—oh baby!" She felt his cock growing rigid again. "Oh, Carol, dear, sweet Carol. Carol?"
"Yes?" Her whole body waited.
They welded together in steaming hotness.
"Bruce, you are so great. Will you please not hurt me?"
"I wouldn't hurt you—not ever. I'd do anything not to hurt you, baby."
"You're the only one who can hurt me, Brace."
"Oh, Carol."
"Promise you'll be good to me."
"I'll be very good."
"If you hurt me it will go badly with me."
They were welded together in the lovely deep silence and they did not move for a long while.
Later they dressed and went out to eat at a health food place Bruce insisted they try. When they returned it was as if they'd never left.
Bruce undressed slowly and then kissed her long and lingering, making it pull them together as if they had always been like that. He pulled her from the bed and she stood naked before him. He fondled her firm breasts and then kissed them. Lowering himself, he kept kissing her body, her rounded belly and the insides of her thighs. He placed one long kiss on her pussy, letting his tongue, for just a brief moment, dart into the jungle of pubic hair. He stood up and embraced her. Slowly, he pushed her back on the bed.
Lying on the bed, her body pressed tightly by his, Carol began to get more excited. The feel of the big hard cock stimulated her desire. She raised up on her knees and grasped his erect cock in her hand. She proceeded to stroke it gently while she fondled his nuts. She noticed a slight fattening of his prick. God, she thought, it was hard already; was it possible to make it grow even larger by fondling it? She kept one hand under his balls, holding them in her palm as she stroked the large, hot, throbbing rod. She opened her pink mouth and slowly brought it down over his glans. She ran her tongue around the base of the head, thrilling at the taste. God, it was wonderful. So good! If someone had told her a month ago that she would be going down on someone she'd have almost vomited at the thought.
She cried out in the sheer ecstasy of the moment. The full meaning of love came to her in the form of the most overpowering climax she'd ever experienced. Not just every nerve in her body, but every bone and piece of flesh tremored with delight which flowered again and again in the hot recesses of her cunt. Great globs of juice from her flowing pussy spilled out into the bed while she writhed in luxurious pleasure.
Again she thought, if someone had told her a few months ago she'd be making love for the physical pleasure of it, she'd would have fainted in disgust. How did this all come about? What happened that would or could drive her to this? It probably started with Ted. Maybe before, but no, she decided, it had been because of Ted.
She thought that he was the most gentlemanly man she'd ever met. He was something else, so suave, so expensively, if somewhat conservatively, dressed, looking more like a young college professor than a Hollywood screenwriter and novelist. When she was introduced to him at a party, she knew his name from his special dispatches from Vietnam which he had written for a syndicated column which ran country-wide.
The party was in her honor. She had just been selected Miss Indiana and was going to represent the state in the Miss America Pageant at Atlantic City. Carol was hovering somewhere above cloud nine. A scant week earlier, she was nothing more that a box girl in a grocery store. She had scoffed at the idea of entering a beauty contest and refused to take her friend seriously until she found herself entered. Showing up, she paraded with embarrassed charm in a bathing suit before admiring judges. She won one contest after another until, standing on stage clad in a regal but natty gown, she was one of the three finalists in the state contest. The three stood smiling demurely, gazing out beyond the audience, trying to hold onto their smiles and hide their nervousness. The crowd hushed as the judge walked behind each contestant with a diamond tiara in his hand.
Carol was light-hearted at the moment because she never expected to win, the other two girls being such dazzling beauties with such wonderful personalities. She made up her mind to congratulate the winner with all of her heart and she was happy to have reached this lower peak ... it had all been such a wonderful thrill and she now had something to tell her children and grandchildren when that time came.
Carol almost swayed. Was the judge stopping behind her? No, it was impossible and silly ... but then, as the -audience broke into a roar that sent shivers all the way down to her toes, she felt the fragile tiara being placed on her head. She spun about, her eyes wide, staring at the grinning judge. "My God!" she groaned and almost fainted.
Although she didn't know it, her life had changed and would never be the same again.
All at once she was somebody—no longer an insignificant little nobody but really and truly somebody. She had never thought that she would win and she was then, naturally swept off her feet. She stood sipping champagne and receiving guests as they queued up to meet her and say a few words. She was the center of attraction and carried on conversations as the cameras clicked and the lights exploded around her. As men crouched and squinted at her through view finders, she stood erect and radiant. It was sometime before she noticed Ted Hurley standing of in one corner, his back to the wall, a drink in his hand and a quiet smile playing on his lips.
He seemed ironically amused by all of the to-do. More than just good looks, there was something in his attitude and manner that made Carol look again and again. He seemed only mildly interested in what was happening around him and politely but casually interested in an attractive but hard-faced blonde who was standing next to him and speaking into his ear. He cocked his head to the side and listened, but never did he remove his" eyes from Carol's ecstatic young face.
There was something, a calmness, a veiled suggestion, in his grey eyes that compelled Carol to look back again and again. Soon they were staring at each other with an intensity that seemed to override everything else. Voices faded one into another around her; and Carol, smiling automatically, nodded in constant agreement, which worked well as they were all saying the same things anyway.
She held her breath as she saw Ted lean away from the blonde, hand her his drink and come slowly across the room without once for an instant taking his eyes from her.
He asked her to marry him right on the spot.
Carol was too stunned to even answer.
She was whisked away then and the next day was a busy one. She spent most of it in an exclusive shop being fitted for gowns and dresses of every variety. She was surrounded by women who arranged her hair and stuck thousands of pins into her clothing. The head designer was simply called John. Her press agent had said he had fairy wings on his feet! John flitted all over the studio, his hand fluttering around his head like nervous birds. He shouted, screeched, implored, begged, cried, and sulked. Everything had to be just right. He constantly referred to Carol as "that cold bitch there."
Carol was hurt and bewildered. Taking her press agent aside, she said, "What is the matter with him? What have I ever done to him?"
"Nothing, darling, absolutely nothing," he said. But John heard her and answered himself, flitting out from behind some scenery used to pose models on. He stood before her with one hand on his hips, his elbows arched.
"And that's the trouble." He turned to the press agent with a regal air and said, "Would you mind leaving us alone? Go! Scat!"
Although she couldn't say why, Carol was amused. She nodded assent and John took her elbow, leading her back through the studio and into his private office. Carol had never seen anything like it. It was designed in opulent Victorian with much red plush and enlarged photographs on the wall of handsome young men with muscular bodies and sensitive faces.
With an imperious wave of the hand, John indicated a seat on an overstaffed couch, and sent to an ornate wall where he pushed a button which played a swinging wall-bar into sight.
"God, what a dreary dull day."
"I'm sorry if I've made it that way for you," Carol said.
John turned to her to give her one of his evil smiles. "I don't suppose you'd want a drink?"
"No."
John looked up at the ceiling and said, "I knew it ... I knew it."
He poured himself a generous Absinthe in a large snifter and then sat behind an antique desk swilling the drink and smelling it while looking at Carol. "You won't go far, you know."
Carol felt that she must have misunderstood or not heard him correctly.
"What?"
"I said, you won't go far." John tossed back his head and drained the glass in one gulp.
"I don't know what you mean," Carol said.
"Oh, you will shortly, my dear," John said. "Look, this is all so commonplace. The moment I saw you, I knew your whole story."
He laughed derisively. "Pretty girl gets a little attention, wins a beauty contest, and thinks she's got the world at her feet. I'm going to give you a bit of unwanted and unasked for advice."
"What?" Carol asked, not knowing what else to say or do.
John raised himself and sat on the edge of the desk decorously swinging one leg. "In one word. Fuck!"
Carol bristled and fought to keep her composure which was all she had brought into the room with her. "You are rude."
"And you, my sweet young thing, are a prude. It shows. Being s. prude goes over big in Indiana and other small places where the people are already dead but not yet buried, but not in the big city. Look at yourself. You came in here all aglow like Shirley Temple, and expect us to fall over you. My job, my dear, is to make you look attractive, and I'm very good at my job. But nothing I can do will hide the prude and the coldness in you. Only you can do something about that Fuck, fuck, fuck. Go out and have an affair, have two, three affairs. Live a little! I knew you wouldn't have a drink ... girls like you never do, unless you have to and then you just sip at it,"
Although she felt as if she had just been scalded, Carol let the words sink in. This prissy, prancing man who posed before her seemed to be enjoying his bitchiness toward her and she was ready to get up and leave until he did say something that was true. It was an inconsequential thing, but nonetheless true. She didn't drink unless the drink was thrust upon her and then she only sipped at it, pretending to drink it. But what was he getting at? Why say such a vulgar thing, why make such a smutty suggestion? Was it possible, was this effeminate creature making a pass? It just couldn't be.
John swished back to the bar, poured himself another drink while talking over his shoulder. "Let me tell you what you're thinking. You are wondering if I want to fuck you. My dear girl," he said coming back to her with a limp wrist and fluttering eyelashes, "nothing, I repeat, nothing could be further from my mind. The truth is, I am divinely gay. My only regret is that I was not born a real woman." He flopped next to her on the couch and bit his lower lip as he stared off into space. "I've thought about it, I mean, going to Denmark or somewhere for one of those sex change operations. What do you think?" he asked, turning to her.
Carol put her hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh as she stared at him with amusement obvious in her eyes.
John jumped up and pointed a finger at her. "First time you've looked human." He began pacing the room. "I know what you think. Just a pratting old queen running off at the mouth. Have you any idea how many contest winners I've dressed? Do you? Well I don't ... they all run together after awhile, they all look alike and act alike and think alike. God!" He hit his forehead with the palm of his hand. "And they're all so dreary and dull. Quick now, give me the name of the last year's Miss America!"
Carol frowned and laughed again. "I can't."
"See?" John asked accusingly. "And who does remember ten days after it's all over. No one ... no one gives a damn. Why? Because they are all alike. Oh, they have a good time. Pose for pictures, get a screen test, make personal appearances, show up for the next contest to congratulate the winner and then sink into oblivion. Is that what you want?" he asked, coming over to her and leaning over the couch.
"No, I didn't even want to get into this thing in the first place." It was the truth and the first time she had ever uttered it.
John tapped the side of his head with his finger. "Aha! I thought so! I knew it!"
"You knew what?"
"That there was something just a little different about you, that there was something else more important. Listen you've got a natural kind of beauty. But your make-up is all wrong. Take almost all of it off. You looked manufactured now. And another thing, you are going around smiling all of the time and looking sweet and demure and it is not your natural personality. You're sultry and I think you could be a real magnificent female bitch."
"I beg your pardon!" Carol said, unable to stop a laugh of astonishment.
"All you need is practice, sweetheart," John went on. "First a drink. Have a goddamn drink or you'll force me into a nervous breakdown."
Before she could think, John had poured her a brandy and pushed a buzzer on his desk. Instantly two wardrobe people appeared together with her press agent who looked askance at the drink in her hand.
"I don't like the looks of this," he said.
"To hell with what you like. I'm scrapping all those Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm things I've made for her and we're making a new wardrobe. Right now." John flitted around Carol looking at her body in his professional way. "Something sexy and flamboyant." He turned to the press agent and began shoving him out. "Go ... get out ... I'm busy ... I'm creating! Go get yourself a hamburger and a malt and check back later."
"You could, get me something," Carol said, walking to him with the drink still in her hand. She smiled at John. Despite herself she was beginning to like him. Whatever else he was he was honest and perceptive. "Go to a. bookstore and get me any book you can find by Ted Hurley."
"Hurley!" John screeched, stopping in Ms tracks. "Do you know Ted?"
Carol smiled at him seductively. She was pleased with herself. She impressed him. "Yes, I do. Do you?"
"Oh, you little doll. Do I ever." He turned to the press agent. "Well, you heard the lady. "Jump!? The press agent jumped, making a note in his pad, promising to be back later.
John ordered one of the women to lock the door. Then he turned to Carol. "All right, take your clothes off."
"What?" Carol was so caught off her guard that she almost dropped her drink.
John looked disgusted, both hands on his hips. "Oh, come on, don't make me go through a whole scene! There are two middle-aged women present and if I'm going to do anything for you, I've got to see what your body is really like! Now come on, all this is costing money and I am a busy man. Honestly," he said, his hands fluttering as he went to a drafting table. "Sometimes, I don't know why I ever bother."
Carol took a swig of the brandy. To her surprise it went down smoothly, only beginning to burn when it got into her stomach. "I know why you bother," she said grinning, "you wish you were me!"
Bending over the table, John sighed. "You are so right, my love, so very right!"
Carol began stripping off her clothes, one of the women helping her.
"How do you know Ted Hurley?" she asked. John was busy drawing. He answered her without raising his head. "Who doesn't know him? God, he's-a beautiful thing!"
Carol shook in her bra and panties. "Is he ... you know." A terrible shadow of doubt was on her face.
John stopped his work for a moment and rubbed his gay face. "How I wish he was. No, my dear, Ted Hurley is what is known in the trade as a cocksman. He travels fast and high class." He looked up and his face was irritable. "I said get your clothes off!"
"You mean ... " Carol was utterly astounded. She looked at John and thought how she had never met a person like him.
"I mean I want you bareass naked. Please, don't take up my time with Puritan stupidity. If you're afraid for your virtue or feel you're going to be corrupted, put your clothes back on and go find yourself a Methodist minister who can also design clothes. You'll end up in the back row of a choir yet."
Again, Carol laughed hesitatingly. He was an impossible man, probably a very depraved man, yet, she liked him. In the past week since she had won the title of Miss Indiana, the only two people who had spoken to her at all like she was a human being, like an individual, were Ted Hurley and John the designer. She toasted John, took a heavy drink from the brandy snifter, caught her breath and in final resignation reached behind her back and snapped loose the clasp of her bra.
Her firm, full young breasts seemed to leap free, standing erect and proud. One of the two women helped her with her bra, staring at her rich melon-shaped tits with envy and ... something else. What was it? Carol looked at the woman as she said, in a low voice. "You're very beautiful."
With a bravado born of John's speech and ideas helped by the brandy, Carol peeled down her flimsy nylon panties and stood in the center of the room stark naked. Although she thought she would feel embarrassment or shame, to her own surprise she felt neither. Instead, she was suddenly feeling audacious and brazen, feeling the color run to her face when she realized, after draining her brandy glass dry, that her nipples were taut and sticking out like two tiny pink skinned bullets. A strange unknown sexual excitement ran through her body. My God, she thought, I'm an exhibitionist and didn't even know it!
One of the women took her glass and said, "Just a little more. You might catch a chill standing here."
"Thank you," Carol said. The woman was holding the glass but hadn't moved toward the bar. She was standing and taking in Carol's figure with greedy, half-closed eyes. Carol looked back at her, watched her until their eyes met. There was something more than admiration in her gaze. "I'll get you a drink," the woman finally said with a slow heavy voice.
John came from his drafting board and stopped when he saw Carol naked. For a moment, he didn't speak, his eyes drinking in every inch of her body while she stood and averted her eyes. She flushed.
"I look at you and I'm sorry I'm such a fag," he finally said softly with just a trace of sadness. He came to her and slowly walked around her, his eyes cold yet. interested as he took in each part of her voluptuous young anatomy. He stopped and stared long at her smooth lovely buttocks, came around in front of her to admire each thrusting breast separately, took in her loins and thighs and legs with an intensity that made Carol think that she now knew what it was like to be raped by eyes alone.
John continued to walk around her, backing off to get a better view, finally saying, "Walk around a bit so I can see now you move."
Carol hadn't taken off her high heels and as she walked slowly across the room, her breasts, inspite of themselves, quivered and her hips and pelvis rolled and undulated like they were floating in warm liquid oil. Even John, who had never had sex with a woman, found himself almost getting an erection, wondering if he could ever bring himself about to fuck such a lovely but female thing.
Carol walked naked back and forth across the room. No one spoke at all. It was so still in the room you could hear the ticking of the clock on the desk and the soft step of her shoe on the deep pile rug. She looked at John and the two women and knew they were hypnotized as they mentally absorbed her completely naked form. She felt herself thrilled, oddly excited, more than she thought she ever could be, more than she had been when she paraded in front of tie judges in the contest. Walking magnificently, almost naked in a bikini bathing suit, having a whole audience drink in her figure and applaud, having men snap her picture and a TV camera shoot her for the evening news—all that had been exciting, true. She had loved it, had responded strongly, but had never once thought of the thrill parading in front of anyone totally naked. There was something shameful, bold, sensual, primitive, and strangely, terribly exciting about it. She stalked back and forth across the room as she had when she made her entrance on stage at the Miss Indiana contest, her breasts softly swaying and her whole body quivering passionately, her eyes wild and shining, her smooth ebony hair flowing and a sensuous smile on her face.
"Enough!" John cried, covering his eyes. "My God, let's get to work."
One of the women came to her with a drink. "Perhaps we could have a drink later on?" she cooed seductively with a smile.
For the first time, Carol looked at John's assistants closely. Both of them were thin and wore severe tailored suits. They looked smart yet conservative. Both wore horn-rimmed glasses "and both, as Carol had seen, were good at their jobs. She smiled back at the woman, enjoying the pleasure of exciting people, 'Td like to, really, but I'm afraid I haven't the time."
The woman nodded as if she understood. "If you ever find the time, my name is Nicky."
Bolts of cloth were swirled and cut and before Carol knew it, the three of them, John and the two women, were all around her, draping her with cloth and taking in tucks while constantly gathering, talking and arguing with one another. They ignored Carol, treating her as if she were nothing more than a store window mannequin.
They crouched and stood around her, smoothing out the fabric, touching and cupping her breasts, smoothing her thighs and patting the softness of her buttocks. John kneeled in front of her to adjust the fabric to fall and drape between her thighs in a certain way, his fingers touching her pubic mound and vagina in an impersonal way. Carol never felt more wicked and yet excited in her life. She took still another drink and felt light headed and giddy. Silly mirth seemed to bubbling up in her. My god, she thought, I'm getting drunk!
And yet she felt so good. Inwardly, she was pleased with their hands feeling and caressing her body. She wished it could go on all day. How nice it would be to lie stark naked and have somebody massage your body, she thought.
She awoke from her reverie with a start. How much time had passed? He, John, was standing with the two women, standing off and looking at her.
"Well?" John asked, "What do you think?"
Carol turned and looked in the full length mirror. John and the women had pinned black velvet to her, pinned and draped and cut it in such a way that she was worse than naked. Every curve in her body stood out and was accentuated. Her breasts were more exposed than covered. She turned and saw her firm young buttocks outlined beautifully, No man could look at her without one thought coming into his mind. Despite her upbringing, one thought, one word came to Carol's mind: FUCK!
"You don't expect me to wear this in public, do you?" she said, her voice rising.
"I do," John said coolly. "And you'll look great. You'll wear it tonight as my guest for dinner and a party afterward."
"Oh God, I can't," Carol groaned.
"But you must, I'm afraid, my darling. I've just got to show you. off," John said with a limp wristed wave of both hands.
"No, you see there are rules in the contest," Carol implored.
"Rules?" John raised his eyebrows. "Rules? Rules are made to be broken. My dear little country girl, when you're with me, you're with me on business. After all, I've got to show how people react to my creations. We'll be suitably and properly chaperoned."
"I ... I'm not sure," Carol said. "Perhaps I'd better talk to my agent and some other people."
John was again annoyed. He was standing in front of her, taking the dress off with the help of the women, leaving her naked again. "I am John and there is only one John. I've a very important and very rich queen and I know a great many people. At the party I'm going to take you to tonight there will be a great many important and talented people. Movie stars. A good impression made tonight will do more for you than ten Miss America titles. Be a good girl and don't argue with me." John folded the dress and handed it to one of the women. "Have them get to work on this immediately."
Carol smiled weakly at him. Perhaps she was risking something by breaking the contest rules against dating but she doubted it. With the aid of her brandy, she liked John more and more every minute. More importantly, she knew that she now believed in him.
"All right, John. But at least tell me your last name."
"I don't have a last name. I am simply John the First, queen of the fashion world." They both laughed and for the first time, John gave her a warm smile. "Since I'm beginning to like you—God knows why, you're such a prig—if you must know, my last name is Varnelli. I was born and raised, until I escaped, in Brooklyn, and if you ever tell a soul my last name, I'll scratch your eyes out!"
Carol was really feeling the drinks now. She even liked standing in front of him naked. She thrust her hips out and imitated his lisping voice. "Honey, you can just trust that I won't tell a soul."
John beamed, "Now the bitch is coming out in you."
Carol felt as if she had been hit by a bucket of ice cold water. "What?"
John waved at her. "Don't get alarmed, I said, Come on, drink up, we've got work to do."
And the rest of the day was spent with the three of them scurrying around, working with incredible energy and precision, fitting clothing and matching colors after much argument, again ignoring Carol as a person and touching her body in the most intimate places in brazen and impersonal ways. At the end of the session, she was tired and yet excited, feeling a strange moistness in her vagina when she walked. John had designed quite a few outfits for her and they parted as if they were old friends, John promising to come to the hotel at eight with the gown he wanted her to wear.
Back at the hotel, Carol spent the remaining hours in bed, reading the two books by Ted Hurley that her press agent had managed to find.