Chapter 3

Meanwhile, Beverly had landed in Honolulu. She had just checked into her hotel room and was currently getting on the elevator and riding to the floor where she would meet Connie's fun-loving friend, Jennifer Wellington.

The only other person to get on the elevator with her was a large well-dressed black man. He stepped to the rear of the cubicle, whereas she stayed near the front. The moment the door closed and the elevator started to move the fellow said, "Nice legs."

"I beg your pardon." she said, looking over her shoulder to see him.

"I said that you have a very nice pair of legs, they look like they belong on a model."

"Why thank you," she replied, blushing and turning back to face the front of the elevator once more.

"Are you a model?"

"Goodness no."

"You could be, you know? You're certainly pretty enough."

"Thank you, but I already have a job."

"I see all kinds of women who come here from the mainland, but few of them have legs which can compare to yours."

"Thank you, again. That's very nice."

He was silent for a couple of seconds before saying, "You've also got very nice breasts."

"Thank you," she said once more, now wishing that the elevator ride would be over.

"Are they real?"

"What?"

"Your breasts."

She was becoming nervous from these types of intimate compliments and personal questions. Nevertheless she replied, "Well, of course they're real."

"No silicone job or plastic surgery done by a high priced titlifter in Beverly Hills?"

"Of course not," she said, looking over her shoulder indignantly, making sure that he saw her ire.

If he saw it, it didn't bother him. "You've also got a great-looking ass."

That did it! Now she was very angry. For a woman to be told that she had a nice pair of legs and that she was pretty enough to be a model was one thing, but for her to be told that she had a great-looking ass was something else entirely. It bordered on the vulgar— and she didn't like vulgarity in any form. "I'm going to ask you to please stop making references to my body. I find it most rude and uncivilized."

"Hey!" he said with a broad smile. "I'm just stating the facts."

"Keep the facts to yourself." She was beginning to wish that she hadn't made the trip to Hawaii by herself. She wished that her husband was with her. He would protect her from this crude brute. But then, this incident wasn't entirely unexpected. A pretty woman travelling alone could always anticipate a man coming on to her.

She simply decided to ignore his remarks. He could say anything that he liked—it wouldn't harm her in the slightest.

But no further remarks came. The only sounds in the cubicle were of the overhead cables pulling the elevator upward and the electronic digits on the wall clicking as each floor was passed.

However, she did hear the sound of heavy breathing. Ironically, it seemed to be coming from directly behind her—almost in her ear.

It was then that she felt a slight pressure on her buttocks. She might otherwise have ignored it if she weren't acutely aware of the man's presence. Suddenly she realized that the pressure on her ass was exerted by the palm of a hand. Since there were only two people in the elevator, she knew whose hand that was.

"What are you doing?" she asked angrily, not even bothering to turn around.

"I'm checking out your ass. It's nice and firm—just the way I like them."

"Keep your hands to yourself, buster."

He was somewhat amazed by her resolute response. He hadn't counted on any resistance. He pulled his hand away and said, "All right, all right! Don't get bent out of shape. Cheese! You must be from some small town in the Midwest."

That accusation got her attention. "Why do you say that?" she asked.

"Because women from there are the only ones in America who are uptight about having their bodies appraised."

"Don't tell me that women from San Francisco, or New York, or Los Angeles let you touch them!"

"They sure do. In fact, they encourage it."

"Oh ha! I bet!"

"Suit yourself. I figured you for a small town hick. Nevertheless, you are a very pretty one."

Just then, the door? opened. She breathed a sigh of relief. She had never been so happy to get off of an elevator in her entire life. She picked up her suitcase and hurried down the hallway, wanting to get as far away as quickly as possible from the uncivilized barbarian who couldn't keep his hands to himself.

She knocked on the door of her hotel room and after several minutes saw it opened by a beautiful, full-figured blonde wearing only a bathrobe.

"Oh hi! You must be Jennifer Wellington," Beverly said to the woman.

"That I am. And you must be Connie's friend."

"Yes."

"Well, welcome roomie. Have a seat and sit a spell."

Beverly brought in her suitcase and sat on the bed. "Whew! I just had the most awful experience."

"What was that?" asked Jennifer.

"A man in the elevator kept making remarks about my body."

"Oh!"

"And that wasn't the worst. He had the nerve to put his hand on my buttocks."

"It happens all the time," replied the blonde. "It seems as if every horny male in Honolulu is checked into this hotel. It has happened to me several dozen times already. To tell you the truth, I've gotten used to the remarks and the probing hands. I don't even pay any attention to them anymore."

"Have you complained to the hotel management?"

"What good would it do? The management consists of a bunch of guys who come from New York City. They wouldn't do anything to help a woman even if she were spread-eagled in the middle of the lobby and were being raped by the bellhops."

Beverly shook her head and said, "It's a frightening world that we're living in."

"I'll say," agreed Jennifer. "It's getting so we pretty women can't even go out of the house anymore without being felt-up or fondled."

"Well, I for one do not like it," Beverly said as she kicked off her shoes. "I am not a piece of meat. I don't like to have a stranger's hands running over my body."

She unbuttoned her blouse, removed her bra, and said, "I hope you don't mind, but I'm going to draw a bath. I need one after my flight."

Jennifer looked at Beverly's lovely breasts appreciatively. "Go right ahead," she said as she watched the brunette beauty undress. "Men can be such creeps sometimes."

"You're telling me," Beverly replied as she pulled her blouse all the way off.

Jennifer's eyes widened as she noted the perfection of her roommate's breasts. They were spectacular masterpieces of female flesh. She gulped and said, "Men are always trying to come on with some worn-out line in order to get into our pants."

"Yes," agreed Beverly as she unzipped her skirt and shook her shapely ass back and forth in an attempt to get it down her long legs.

"Sometimes I wish that they'd all go away," Jennifer said offhandedly.

"Sometimes I think the same thing." Beverly took off her hose, carefully peeling them down her thighs and her calves.

Jennifer was amazed at the beauty of the brunette's body. When Connie called and said that she was throwing a treat her way, she thought her friend was referring to an average-looking female, not one who could have easily been a winning contestant in the Miss America pageant. The woman not only had the face of an angel, but the body of a centerfold.

Jennifer continued the conversation by saying, "Men are only good for one thing—and they're not very good at that."

Beverly casually took off her panties, kicked them to the side, and asked, "Are you referring to sex?"

"Yes," Jennifer replied with glistening eyes as she focused her attention on the little triangle of brunette fur.

"I wouldn't know how other men are at sex. I've only made love to one man in my entire life—my husband."

Jennifer's eyebrows rose. She didn't think that she had heard correctly. "Are you saying that you've never played around—ever?"

"No."

"Not even in high school, or college?"

"Nope."

The blonde found it hard to believe that such a good-looking woman hadn't been poked with several hundred penises in this day and age. After all, she herself had had several thousand penises shoved into her various orifices—and she wasn't even thirty years of age yet!

"Then you're not here in Hawaii to have an extramarital affair?" Jennifer asked.

"Of course not," Beverly replied in a stunned tone of voice. "I'm here on vacation. I'm here to enjoy myself—plain and simple."

"My goodness. Such noble character. You sound like the perfect wife."

Beverly smiled and said, "Hardly."

"Don't be so modest. You're quite attractive, you know?"

"I know, I know, I know. My friend Connie tells me that all the time."

"Don't you like to hear it?"

"I suppose so. I just don't think that I'm all that special."

"Surely you can't be serious. You're absolutely gorgeous. Truly! I know women who would kill to have a pair of shapely breasts like yours."

Beverly looked down at her tits and said, "I think that they're too big."

"Nonsense," replied Jennifer. "Yours are the kind that most men—and most women admire. Just look at their symmetry. Symmetrical tits like that are very hard to find. Most women have one breast which is slightly larger than the other. And look at the fullness of them—the way that the skin is stretched taut against your flesh, creating a fine globe. It's almost translucent enough to see the little veins beneath. And if that weren't enough—your breasts are uptilted and firm. Would you rather have mine?" Jennifer quickly opened her robe and displayed her titties.

Beverly was startled that the blonde wore nothing beneath her robe. Nevertheless, she looked at the breasts, made a comparison, and said, "To tell you the truth, I would."

"Why on earth would you say that?"

"Because they're not as large as mine. I get tired of carrying this pair around. They almost weigh me down. And besides, yours are just as round, just as firm, and just as symmetrical as mine."

"But not as full ...and that counts for a lot in this world."

"I suppose," replied the brunette as she grabbed a towel from the towel rack and headed to the shower. "But bigger is not necessarily better."

"It depends on what one is referring to," Jennifer said with a suggestive lilt in her voice.

Beverly stood in front of the mirror and prepared to step into the bathroom. However, Jennifer wanted to keep looking at the naked brunette, and she wanted to keep the conversation intimate, so she said, "Hey! You're an innie."

Beverly looked at her with a quizzical expression crossing her pretty face. "An innie? What are you referring to?"

"Your belly button. It's an innie like mine. In other words, your navel is concave rather than protruding."

Beverly looked down past her titties to her lower abdomen. She thrust her pelvis outward slightly in order to see her navel better. "I've really never noticed it before—or at least, not since I was a youngster."

"You could have had me fooled. From what I can see I would have guessed that you spent most of your free time in front of the mirror."

"Me! Oh ha!"

"If not, how do you keep so fit and trim?" the lovely blonde asked.

"I workout a lot. But a lot of my looks are the result of good genes."

"Your mother wasn't fat?"

"No. Nor was my father. They also had a passion for eating fresh fruit and produce rather than snacking off of processed foods. I'm really thankful to them for teaching me that habit. I never learned to live off of sweets and fats the way that most American teenagers do. I was into fiber before fiber was a fad."

"I must say that you don't have any unsightly fat anywhere on your body. Not on your face. Nor your arms. Nor your tummy. Nor your thighs. You're too perfect to be true."

Beverly giggled. "Would you stop that. You're the second person in less than an hour who has been making comments about my looks. Besides, I am not perfect."

"You're the most perfect female I've seen in quite some time. I'll tell you what, let's stand next to each other in front of the mirror and compare our bodies. That should convince you."

"All right," agreed Beverly as she stepped in front of the mirror and faced it.

Jennifer stood beside her naked roommate and said, "You're already told me that you'd rather have my smaller, albeit equally lovely breasts. What about the tummy?"

"Mmm! Yours is about the same narrowness as mine. I guess that I'd be satisfied with keeping mine."

"How about the hips?"

"Yours are smaller. I'd definitely be happier with them."

Jennifer was surprised. "You don't like your high-set and well-rounded pair?"

"No way."

"But they're very shapely—and I might add—sexy."

"That's the problem with them. Men are always trying to goose me, or pinch me, or something awful. I can't even walk down the street without some man turning his head, stopping, and whistling. It's dreadful."

"Oh ha! It sounds great. If I want to get whistled at, I have to flirt with the guy."

"I find that hard to believe," said Beverly. "You're very attractive."

"But I ain't in your league. You're what I would refer to as 'spectacular'. I mean, just look at those legs of yours. I've never seen anything to compare to them. They're the legs of a centerfold. The thighs are perfect, the calves are perfect, even the kneecaps are perfect. How many women could say that about their knees?"

"My legs are much too long for my body. I'd rather have a pair like yours. They're more of a normal shape and size."

"That's only because I'm shorter than you. All I know is that I'd be extremely grateful if I had a long lovely pair like that. Are you fairly limber?"

"What do you mean?"

"Can you stretch your legs wide apart?"

"Oh sure. I have no problem with that. Here. Watch me." Without hesitation the brunette spread her legs in a ninety degree angle.

Jennifer had a very difficult time controlling her emotions as she watched her roommate perform the move. The sight of those long, lovely legs spreading apart, and the vision of that furry pubic mound opening slightly, was causing her heart to flutter in a fast rhythm. "My goodness!" she exclaimed. "You have a very pretty pussy."

Beverly put her legs back together, stood up straight, and said, "Now I know that you're teasing me. My pelvic region is just as ugly as yours."

"'Ugly'! How can you possibly use a term like that to describe your reproductive region! From what I can tell, it's one of the prettiest things that I've ever seen."

"Oh Jennifer!" Beverly said with a blush. "That's a ridiculous thing to say."

The blonde turned around and grabbed a handheld mirror from atop the dresser. "Here. See for yourself."

"What do you want me to do with the mirror?" Beverly asked as she held it in her hand.

"I want you to put it between your thighs and look at your vagina."

"I don't want to look at it."

"Go ahead. Look at it and tell me if you still think that it's ugly."

Reluctantly, Beverly spread her thighs and put the mirror between them. She gazed at the reflection of her vagina and said, "Well, I have to admit that it's not as ugly as I thought."

"If you had seen a lot of female crotches you would know that yours is tops. Not too hairy. Not too bald. Just right. In fact, it looks like a little foxtail down there."

Beverly laughed. "I suppose it does, doesn't it?" She angled the mirror for the best view possible before withdrawing it and closing her thighs again. She looked over at Jennifer's pubic mound and said, "And yours is more like an inverted triangle."

Jennifer laughed playfully. "Blondes frequently have crotches that look like mine."

"I wouldn't know," said Beverly. "I haven't been looking at many lately."

"Next time you're in a locker room, take note. You'll be surprised to learn that on the whole brunettes have prettier crotches."

"I'll remember that," said Beverly with a chuckle. "Although, I can't imagine walking around and asking the girls if I could take a look at their pubic hair. I get the feeling that I'd be thrown out on my keester."

"Say, are you still going to take that bath?" asked Jennifer.

"Sure."

"Do you mind if I join you?"

Beverly giggled. "There's not enough room in a bathtub for two people."

"There is in this hotel. In fact, it's big enough to hold six."

"Oh my god!" the brunette exclaimed. "I've always heard of a bathroom like that. Let me take a look! I've got to see this with my very own eyes." She rushed ahead and gasped when she opened the door.

Jennifer watched her ass wiggle. She thought about whistling, but restrained herself. After all, in no time at all she would be investigating that ass up close and personal.

"Now this is what I call a bathroom!" the beautiful brunette exclaimed as she looked around at the sumptuous surroundings. "Just look at all of this wasteful expense! My god! The sink alone must have cost a small fortune."

She ran her hands along the smooth lacquered surface, noting the gold plated faucets with their ivory handles. Such wasteful opulence should have depressed her normally frugal character, but instead she felt comforted. "It makes me want to stay here all day."

"I felt the same way," said Jennifer. "That's why I haven't taken off my bathrobe since I got here."

"I don't blame you. The bathroom itself is worth a trip to Hawaii."

Beverly then stepped over and looked at the tub. "My god! It's marble! Genuine marble! And it's big enough to hold a whale."

"Apparently some of the older women who come to Hawaii are a bit on the hefty side," said Jennifer in a teasing manner. "Luckily, we're not."

Beverly was too enthralled with the furnishings of the bathroom to notice that Jennifer had stepped immediately behind her and had placed her hands on her buttocks. The brunette kept making casual observations. "You're right. There is enough room in here for a half dozen people." She turned back to Jennifer and said, "Sure. You can join me. There's lot of room."

Jennifer was hoping that the pretty brunette would say that.