Chapter 4
Baylor's heart leaped, to lodge high in his throat. Convulsively his hands tightened on her back, stilled her devilish body. Hell, he raged, this can't be happening. Not just like this..."Tessa..." he breathed hoarsely, "you mean..."
"Please, please, Ken." And her lips came coursing along his face, trembling, searching for his in the darkness.
Then his mouth went on a search of its own, closed on hers. Someone was banging a garbage can cover with a stick somewhere in the back of his brain.
Her lips were scorching the vampire scent she wore maddened him, sent him spiraling down into a violent vortex of supercharged lust. There was no more time for pondering, no time to try to tidy the tinder-stick confusion in his brain. He wanted only to hold her like this, to feel her tremble against him, to kiss and later if...
Her tongue swept forth, flickered along his lips, and Tessa's body went crazy against his. When his hands slid down her silken back, clutched her buttocks, pulling her even more tightly to him, she moaned deep in her throat.
Finally, Ken's hands became less punishing, they ceased clutching, began to caress, to slide the silk of her slip and skirt against the tight bound prominences of her bottom.
Tessa's lips were buried in his throat now, sliding, nipping, leaving a trail of fire on his flesh. "Oh, Oh, oh..." she intoned steadily. "Oh, Ken..."
Now the staccato breathing, the animal cries died abruptly, and the woman was determinedly wresting herself from him. "No," he pleaded, "stay..." But she wasn't listening. He felt alone, deserted, as she swept away.
Then he squinted against the muted, yet painful light, looked over to see Tessa, her body rigid, her eyes still, standing ten feet away, her hand balancing on the lamp switch.
"Damn" her voice broke, "I didn't mean for things to happen like that. I wanted to wait, Ken, honestly I did. But when you were near Eke that ... I just couldn't."
He started toward her, his intent plain. "No," she warned him away. "Don't, Ken. You came up here for a nightcap, remember?" She touched her hair, whirled away, turned toward the tiny kitchen. "You want Scotch again?"
"Yes," he breathed. "So long's you're turning things off all of a sudden. I really don't need another drink."
"That's what you think. And who said I was turning things off?" Then she was gone, he heard the tinkle of ice in glasses, the sound of bottles being opened.
It gave him time to survey the small efficiency apartment, which was all that her place was. A living room, bedroom, kitchen, and somewhere he was sure a miniature bath. It was the usual, modern, furnished apartment, sporting the usual feminine touches. But there was one place where Tessa had transformed the lackluster surroundings, making them uniquely hers in the banks of bookcases, lining half of one wall, jammed solid, overflowing with books, magazines, paperbacks, pamphlets, prints. In one corner stood an elaborate, portable stereo rig with records in piles beside it, others scattered carelessly on the carpet. There were, Baylor assessed, at least 1500 albums there, most of them classical, the rest show music.
"My God," he called. "You been pilfering the library? And all these records?"
"My only vice," she called, appearing suddenly, a squat, liquor-dark glass in each hand. "I bought 'em, every one. I've always had a thing about books. Seems I can't get enough of them. The same with the records."
She went to the small folding table before the davenport, to deposit the two glasses. Then she advanced on the record player. "What would you like? I'm a nut on the impressionists. Debussy, Richard Strauss, Delius. And I'm nuts about Prokofief and Elgar. Anything there ring a bell?"
Ken chose to be facetious. "How about Peter and the Wolf?"
"You nut. I'll play you some real Prokofief, though. Ever heard his Romeo and Juliet Suite? That'll have you crying in your beer. Now where'd I put that record?"
Moments later the plaintive, eerie strains of the Prokofief filled the small room. And though Ken wasn't familiar with the selection, he liked it immediately. The music seemed fitting background to the very unreality of the situation at hand.
"Sit down," Tessa said, patting the davenport beside her. "Here, where you're handy. Wow, talk about things getting off to a flying start."
"You really expect me to just sit here and drink, listen to music? After what we just...."
She laughed. "No, not really. You'll revert to type in a sec, I'm sure. And if you don't...." Her eyes gleamed with demoniac mischief.
Ken sucked at his drink avidly, gasped slightly. "Holy cow! What'd you put in there? That's straight Scotch."
"So?" she said archly. "What'd you expect? Milk and graham crackers?"
"You weren't kidding when you said one for the road."
"Maybe I hoped you wouldn't go. Tomorrow's Sunday. I'm always so lonesome on Sundays. Mornings especially."
"Quit it, Tessa. I'm a married man. You know that."
She took a hefty drag at her drink. "Damn, isn't that just my luck. Of all the guys I have to fall for, it has to be some jerk of a married man."
"Knock that off, Tessa. Don't be sarcastic. Not after that thing we just had..."
Her voice softened, her face crumpled into something tired and defenseless. "Who's being sarcastic?" she said. "You think this was just coincidence? You think I haul every man I meet up here?"
"No, but...."
"Skip it. If you have to have pictures drawn for you..."
A debilitating shudder careened down Baylor's spine. He could hardly believe his ears. Tessa? She'd planned this? She'd wanted him? The glass came up again. He drank greedily.
And more to regain his equilibrium than anything else he changed the subject, sought safer, more mundane stamping grounds. "How come you don't have a roomie? I'd think you'd go stir crazy alone like this. What about expenses? If anyone knows teachers' pay is pitiful, I do."
"Maybe I don't want any magpie roommate. Some empty-headed Jane who hasn't got sense enough to be quiet when I'm trying to read, who hasn't got sense enough to shut her face when I'm listening to some music"
"Oh. Sorry."
"I didn't mean you, Ken. I want you to talk. Lord knows, I want to talk. But there are times when I get so sick of the stupidity that surrounds me. I feel like I'm going to drown in a sea of stupidity. like it's caving in my eyes, suffocating me."
She paused, looked at her glass intently. "I honestly think we'd have something to say to each other. And..." she sighed. "There are other ways of communication."
She was trembling; Ken felt that through the davenport cushions. He drained his glass and went to her. He had but to put his arm around her and she collapsed against him just as a phalanx of glittering sound from the hi-fi shattered and crumpled around them.
Their lips were sealed together once more, Tessa's body was yearning toward his. Their arms locked and strained, each unable to get close enough to the other. The kiss was exquisite and tempestuous at the same time, again routing reason, denying reality. All that existed now was this tactile involvement, its promise and expectation.
Once more Tessa's lips, painted a luminous pink, closed hungrily on his, her tongue sought his. Her eyes were closed, and opening his, Baylor saw the iridescent whitish-blue eye liner close up, he saw the blackness of her lashes. And thought how lovely, how unconventional this face was.
Beauty has countless manifestations.
Again his throat pained him, and he strained to get even closer to the woman, wanting to pray that he'd never wake up from this wonderful dream. He didn't want to go back to the world, he didn't want to go back to a passionless marriage once more. Not yet anyway.
Not until he'd had this woman. Completely and transfiguringly. That was going to happen, he knew. That had to happen.
In a spate of passion he let his hand slide inside the modest d‚colletage of her gown, tossed the lace of her elegant slip aside, went in search of her bosom. Tessa interfered not at all, instead adjusting her position the better to abet him.
Then the pulsing, bursting canoid, straining the nylon cup, was in his hand; he felt the hard tip burning a hole in the center of his palm. His fingers tightened, slid on the silky fabric, fought for new hold.
"Oh, Ken," she sighed, breaking the kiss. "Yon can. I want you to. Anything, anything you want..
She sucked in her breath hissingly as she fell back against the cushion. "Yes, yes." Her hands dragged his head down, her lips and avenging tongue were waiting, poised. They charged with almost carnivorous fervor. Kissing, darting, nipping...
Until neither of them could stand any more. Until Ken's hands fought to get inside the jam-packed brassiere, to touch the actual golden flesh of her breasts. In a rage of desire, she flung herself away, fought her way to her feet.
"Please, Ken, undress me. Right here. I don't want any of these damn clothes getting in the way. Do you want to? Or should I.. . ? "
Baylor lurched forward, caught her and held her. "I want to." This was something Diane never allowed, deeming it nasty and immodest when he suggested it.
Something he'd always wanted to do.
"Hurry, then, Ken. I can't wait. I don't want to wait."
He rose, stood behind her, ran the zippers on the dress' back and waist, undid two small snaps. Then the dark blue jersey gown was falling away, forming a charming puddle at her feet. His hand encircled her silky ankles, lifted each foot. The dress was thrown aside.
Tessa's slip was lovely, a black, paneled thing, transparent and not transparent, giving a maddening view of her legs through the silk. For long moments he stood before her, his hands stroking and fleeing over her.
Until Tessa could stand no more. "Please, Ken." She squirmed. "Take my slip off."
Reverently, slowly, he did so. His pulse racketed insanely as he saw how proudly she stood in her black satin girdle, her sheer, bewitching stockings, as he saw how her proud, sharp breasts crammed and stretched the evil brassiere. The bra held them high, making them look like overly pointed cones the separation, the symmetry of each breathtaking.
His eyes rolled and he felt his mouth go dry. He couldn't adore enough, he was torn between a dozen different desires at once. To stare, to caress, to kiss, to strike brutally. This was the most incredible, baffling of moods.
Caught in his fevered Inst as he was he did a totally different, totally unpredictable thing. Catching her around the waist, he flung her down onto the davenport. And there, dazzled confusion rendering her helpless, Tessa went limp, allowed him to stroke and kiss her silk clad body to his heart's content.
And when the terrible shudders began to go through her, so great was her delight in this strange homage, she said, "Turn out the lights, baby, turn them out."
But Baylor didn't comply immediately. Lost in a lustful trance the proportions of which he'd never known before. And he knelt before her, his eyes glitteringly staring, his hands restless, caressing, stroking, circling and squeezing.
Tessa's breath came in great, hissing gasps as her black, shimmering middle distended and fell. The heels of her black pumps dug into the davenport's upholstery.
"The lights, darling," she moaned. "Please..."
Then, and only then, did Ken stagger up, an expression of insane bewilderment etched on his face. Then did he extinguish the lights. He didn't know what had come over him. All he knew was that he'd been denied this passion, this wicked license for too long. Something that had been hidden within him all his life was now being released for the first time.
And growling, snapping, tearing rendering him totally helpless before the devilish fury prowling closer and closer, foretelling savagery and fanaticism.
In the darkness his hands went crazy again, slid on her legs, cupped and roiled and pressured her tantalizing breasts. His lips closed on the nylon, nibbled and teased her nipples through the stiff material, driving Tessa wild as they circled and slid, tickled and tortured.
Docilely Tessa surrendered to him, the sensation of his gentle teeth, his lips on her flesh indescribably beautiful. As his lips adored, his fingers opened her garter clasps. The lips retreated; he delicately peeled down her hosiery, rubbed and kissed her bare legs.
Now, done with his slavish adoration, he began to undress her item by item. First the restricting, stiff girdle, then the brassiere. And finally her wispy panties.
When she was naked, totally adrift in his weird fantasy, too long denied the true liberties of love, influenced by too much Scotch, he attacked her again, kissing and nipping her almost everywhere.
Until Tessa was panting without stop, a gibberish of love words pouring from her lips. Her hands twisted and trembled in his hair; button by button she undid his clothing. Now her words became glutinous, lust charged.
"Ken, darling. Please. Don't do that any more. I can't stand more. Oh, stop, now. Take me to bed. Do what you should to me. Anything you want."
Still he was loath to desert those stone hard nipples, he wanted to continue kissing them, he wanted to sharpen and adversely blunt them. While his hands all the while explored and hounded other areas of her body.
Tessa was beside herself with desire. Her words made little sense now. She said his name over and over again, she used the gutter word for the ultimate thing she wanted from him. She begged, pleaded, sobbed and choked.
And above all enjoyed this madman as she hadn't enjoyed a man in a long, long, time.
Finally he was pulling her to her feet, he was supporting her sagging body as she led him toward the bedroom
"You'll be like this the next time," Baylor prompted her in bed, kneeling by her, planting kisses in the incredibly sensitive small of her back, his hands clutching and rolling her buttocks. "You will, won't you? You'll be wild, you'll want me just as much as you do now?"
"I ... I don't know what you mean."
Of course, what Ken was referring to were the varying tendencies of his wife Diane. It was incredible to him that when he saw Tessa next she would be as passionate as she was now, that she would allow him all these liberties and more, that she would be as avid as she now was.
"You'll want me?" he continued. "You'll really want me? You'll say and do these things again? You'll let me do what I want with you?"
"Of course, baby," she choked, her heart swelling inside her chest at anticipation of the magnificent coup d'etat to come. This was going to be glorious, earth shattering. "I'll never get enough of this. You go to me whenever you want, I'll be ready, I'll be waiting. I'll let you love me, I'll love you until hell won't have us."
She jerked. "Oh! Touch me like that. There. Again. Go ahead, I don't mind." Her arms came around his waist in a murderous embrace. "You lover," she choked, "You lover, you sweet lover."
Again the gutter talk commenced, inflaming Ken beyond sanity. As he moved to her he felt a stinging exultation as she brought up her hands, clawed him.
Her sighs grew, she was seized by a fit of trembling. "Oh, you're good, baby, good, good."
"You angel, you angel," he muttered.
"Ken," she interrupted, "did you ever read Lady Chatterly's Lover?"
"Yes. About a year ago. Why?"
"Do you remember what the gardener called Lady Chatterly...? " She faltered.
He paused. "Yes, I remember."
"Will you say that? Will you call me that?"
"Do you want me to?"
"Yes."
"Will you do the same for me?"
"Yes," Her voice was awed, timid. "I'll use all rlv words if you want. Do you?"
"Yes, use them. I want this to be something special. I'll use them, too. Would you like that?"
"Yes darling, I would." She shuddered again.
The words started then, rose apace with the building sensation that was stunning both of them, became more and more wild, more heathenish.
Helped to release all the long hidden repressions and guilt and shame. They were elemental man and woman, purging themselves of prissy mores in no-holds-barred enjoyment of each other.
The words.
Again and again.
More and more.
Louder and louder.
Then an end to words. The beginning of screams. The choking howls and coughings of deliverance. The definitive description of delight and transport.
Still Ken moved. Sought his own private peace, his body bathed in sweat, his breath feeling like a torch in his throat.
"I'll always be like this," Tessa promised again. "Always. I'll always enjoy you, I'll always be ready, let you do whatever you want to me. I'm yours, I'm yours."
She screamed again.
"I'll be even better," she elaborated. "Give me time, I'll be better. Better and better. I'll leave you more dead than alive. I will, I swear, darling."
Then Tessa was beginning to chant her vile litany of lust again, trotting out all the words of her command. Nothing was sacred. Nothing at all.
A moment later Ken added his words too. They competed with each other to describe their sensations.
And then...
"No, no!" Tessa was screaming, "not yet, not yet! More. Please, m-oo-oo-re..."
Diane awoke when Ken got home shortly after two. "Ken, you're so late," she questioned. "What happened? Where were you?"
"I stopped after the tournament with Dave Frazer. We got to tipping a few and didn't know when to quit. Then we had to have some lunch. We lost track of the time."
"That's all right, dear," she said softly. "You deserve some fun now and then. A night out with the boys'll do you good. You're too much of a homebody anyway. How was your day? Pretty dull I'll bet."
"Yeah," Ken replied. "A drag. Dull, real dull."