Chapter 9

Jennifer gave him plenty of time in which to recover. She told Shan that she could leave now, and, at her urging, Mel lay down beside her. She turned down the lights. He felt her leave the bed. Soon after that, she brought him a tall glass of fruit juice and some pills-vitamins, he supposed. Then she moved a cool, damp cloth refreshingly over his face and forehead.

He knew he was being prepared for something special.

She was sitting near his shoulders on the bed again, because he could smell the expensive perfume that she wore. "Back to life again?" she asked.

"I think so."

"Did you enjoy Shan?"

He smiled crookedly. "What man doesn't enjoy fucking an attractive woman?"

Jennifer laughed. "I should have known. But enough of her. Let's concentrate on us. Would you like me to dance for you?"

Martin was curious as to where all this was leading. "Would you?"

"I'd love to."

She got off the bed and went to the stereo, putting on a record. Jennifer smiled at him and began undressing, swaying to the music. She pulled off the negligee and tossed it onto an elegant sofa. She took off her underwear, doffing her panties and tossing them after the gown. Her bra followed the panties.

Martin had seen women disrobe before, but never one with more style or grace. He tingled all over, fearful that Hugh Laurens would come quietly up behind him at any moment and tell him to get to hell with the others. The rain had stopped.

But no one else appeared, so he stared his fill.

He marveled at Jennifer's figure. She had long, tapering legs and a waspish waist. Her hips and breasts were beautifully rounded, and her buttocks looked firm and sensuous. Her breasts were high and had a lot of thrust. Her nipples were large, engorged, perhaps, by what she had witnessed already this evening.

"Fortissimo," Mel exclaimed, although he wasn't exactly sure what it meant.

Jennifer laughed and began to dance to the music.

She knew how to dance. Every movement was fluid and sensuous. He found himself watching the flow of her shoulders and her legs, the rising and falling of her breasts, the rolling of her waist and waving of her buttocks with increasing eagerness. As the music went on, Jennifer used more and more movements suggestive of sensual action. She gave him beckoning looks.

"Do you like me, darling?" she asked finally, stopping to stare at him.

"Very much," he assured her.

She whirled to turn off the stereo. "That's good. That's very good. If you said you didn't like me, I don't think I could stand it."

Martin was more confused than ever. He watched her take off the record and put on a new one, this time slow, romantic dance music.

"Dance with me, Mel," she urged.

He rolled out of bed. He stood up, then went to her. Maybe she was toying with him, but he didn't care. He had had a certain amount of frustration with Shan, and now he found himself eager to fuck the supple, slender body which stood naked before him.

He took her in his arms, savoring every inch of her flesh: the feel of her back under his hand, the touch of her hips against his. He had seen and felt plenty of naked women. Like most men, he could occasionally look at one without being excited. But not now. Not tonight.

She swayed forward, pressing and rolling against him. She chuckled when she felt his erecting cock. "Do I affect you so?"

"Unavoidably," he managed, still half-expecting Hugh Laurens to enter the room and put a stop to the charade.

Jennifer seemed pleased. "A woman is always glad to know that she awakens a man's cock."

Still dancing with her, he put his hands on her back and stroked. His fingertips danced over her spine.

"How did you know I was so sensitive there?" she asked.

"Many women are," he murmured.

"Have you fucked many women?"

"None like you," he insisted, and he wasn't trying to be gallant, just truthful.

Jennifer bent away long enough to turn off the music. When she looked into his eyes this time, her intensity, the pure excitement in her voice, astonished him. "I want you to make love to me, to fuck me. I want you to handle my breasts and kiss my mouth and love my cunt. Everywhere! I want you to make me more alive than I've ever been. I want your hands and your mouth for every square inch of my body. Do you understand?"

"Yes," he said.

"And I want you to fuck me as many times as you can. Fuck me every way you can. Every way a man can fuck a woman. And when you can't fuck any longer, do other things for me. Will you?"

"I will," he assured her.

"I'll do the same for you, of course. Everything. I'll help you keep hard and erect."

She was already gasping from his love play, and he felt his prick drawn as taut as a bowstring.

"Oh, we're going to have a night, darling," she whispered. "A night like no one else ever had before."

Mel carried her to the bed. Then, as she leaned back in his arms, he commenced to give her the kind of fucking that he knew she wanted, the kind that he wanted so badly to give her. As he kissed her breasts and gave fever to the most sensitive surface of her legs, he reminded himself that he must always exercise a degree of control, always hold back and conserve what power he could, in order to give her more prick than she had ever had before in a single night. The instructions were clear.

He sent wave after wave of fire through her fevered flesh, and she did all she could to make him a lust-crazed beast. He caressed her, kissed her, tantalized her, put a wildness into her that had to come out any way it could. Her response made his nerves go mad with delight. He stopped at nothing in adding to their pleasure, and neither did she.

He was the one who begged first:

"Please-you've got to let me-now! I-can't-wait-any-longer!"

"Yes, darling, but wait a minute. Rest."

They lay still. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears. For an instant he was afraid. He had heard stories of men being excited past the point of no return, their blood pressures and pulse rates never subsiding until they literally died of sexual shock. He hoped that they were only stories.

He reached out for her once more. She rolled over and waited for him as he entered her cunt again, very gently this time, for his sake as well as hers. Then she was all fury again, loving fury, giving and taking, until her arms tightened as she soared to the heights. Still he continued fucking her, fucking harder, until the dam burst and the ecstasy rushed through the both of them.

And they began again.

Nothing was hidden, nothing was held back, nothing was barred. Kisses traveled over chest and breast, legs and hips. They explored each other's bodies. And time after time they acted together, bringing their lovemaking to a shattering finale.

Once she even kneeled astride him, dangled her breasts over his chest, and brought them to the most vigorous climax of all. Mel was positive that he heard a whirring sound then, but he couldn't place it. The whirring promptly faded, as though someone had squelched it. He began to wonder.

When the hall clock struck twelve times, they lay spent in each other's arms. He honestly didn't know how many times he had fucked her. Six, possibly seven. And she must have had at least a dozen climaxes, probably many more.

After they had lain in silence for a long time, she told him what he already suspected: everything they had done was now on film, safely inside Hugh Laurens' movie camera which had been shooting through a slot in the wall over the bed. The slot was partially concealed by a wreath of artificial flowers.

"Was that the whole shtick?" Mel asked, disappointed and a little hurt.

Jenninfer patted his cheek. "No. I really did enjoy it. So don't feel bad."

He realized that he had been initiated after all. He was now a professional party boy of one night's standing.

He still had a lot to learn.