Chapter 15
Steve Kramer lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling. Darkness was descending outside, but he hardly noticed. He was mentally absorbed in Donna Martin. He wanted her now, but short of calling or rapping on her door, there was no way of telling if her husband was back again.
Just being in the same building with Donna was enough to keep him permanently on edge. They were good together, there was no question about it. But he wondered if he was getting too involved. He'd always prided himself on his independence, his absolute freedom of action. Then he wondered if Mel Martin decided to leave the party racket and go straight again, would he give Donna up?
As if in answer, a soft knock came at his door.
Kramer rolled out of bed on cat's feet and drew the .357 Magnum he kept in a holster concealed behind a curtain. He checked the cylinder before calling out, "Who's there?"
"It's me-Donna," someone said.
Kramer relaxed and put the weapon away. He opened the door and admitted a tight-lipped Donna Martin. He saw at one glance that she had been through some kind of emotional upheaval, that she had made some decision for herself. "Come in."
They couldn't say a word at first, just hugged one another as if they hadn't seen each other for years. Then he kissed her, more urgently than he might have on another day.
She stepped back, tears welling in her eyes. The expression on her face told him everything. The love-hate torment, the desire for vengeance, everything. "I guess you know. I've decided to leave him. Mel. But first I want proof. Proof that he's doing what we both know he is. I want you to help me get it."
He nodded. "Care for a drink?"
She shuddered. "I need one. And please make it strong."
He poured two strong ones. They sat on the bed and drank. At first neither of them spoke, then Steve told her what he thought of Shan Hartgrave. "I think she's suspicious," he confessed. "If so, we may not get it."
"The proof?"
"Rog. Mel may run a mile. I'm probably worrying for nothing, though. If you're willing to take the risk with me, I'll do what I can. Are you?"
"I am," Donna insisted.
Kramer took her in his arms. "You're here, and the worst is over. We'll be good for each other. Here, finish your drink. Things have moved fast lately, haven't they?"
She gulped the drink, her throat muscles contracting nervously.
Well, bachelor boy, you've gotten yourself into it now. She thinks you're a combination of Galahad and Joe Mannix. Figure out your exit cue ... if you want one. "We'll work it out. You and me." They would have to. No one would work it out for them.
Donna sniffed. "God, Steve, I wish I could die. Damn him and his filthy ideas. I feel so cheap and used. I don't think I'll ever feel the same about a man again."
"You will," he comforted. "It could happen sooner than you think." He flushed to his ears at how this sounded.
They looked into each other's eyes and smiled. Then they were in each other's arms again, frantically hugging.
The feel of her breasts-they were familiar breasts, like no one else's-sent a reassuring message to his brain. He began to think then that they might make it, might salvage something lasting, something meaningful from the experience. Her lips parted as he covered them with his own. He thrust a tongue between her teeth and began gently searching for the peak of one nipple.
Donna felt it, too-a resurging, a renewing. She nursed quietly on his tongue, as if for sustenance. Her nipples hardened instantly to his ministrations, pressing against his outstretched palms.
A vigorous hard-on bulged Kramer's pants, an erection so painful he wondered if he could hold himself in check long enough to coax it inside her. He hadn't realized how dependent he was on her, even in these early stages of their relationship. On another night, he might have run out for a quickie-type conquest. Tonight he couldn't.
She broke the kiss. "Oh, Steve, what are we going to do? What's going to become of us?"
He took her hand and placed it on his prick. "I regret that I have but one prick to give for my country."
She took her hand away, laughing in spite of herself. "How can you think of sex at a time like this? Have you no decency, no consideration?"
He slipped a hand under her sweater before she could escape. "None whatever. I spent the day thinking about you, and now I want to stop thinking. I want to live a little. Don't you?"
She dropped her head on his shoulder. "I don't know. I don't know about anything any more.
When this is over, I want to go far away. To the Coast, maybe. Or even Hawaii. Somewhere to make me forget, if that's possible."
"I understand." He slipped his arms around her and unhooked her bra. When her breasts were open to his touch, he touched them, with a tenderness that he hadn't felt for her before.
"Oh, Steve," she sighed. "It feels exquisite when you do that."
They were good together, compatible from a sexual if not an emotional standpoint. A pity he and she hadn't met before she wasted three years on Mel. Mel and his screwy ideas.
He didn't let himself think about Mel. Instead, he gave his undivided attention to the cool texture of Donna's flesh, the cool feel of her nipples in his palms. For the first time, he was seeing her as a person. A person who was important, and not because she would soon give herself to him. He cared, really cared, for her. The links to the other women he knew were fast weakening. Soon they would be dead altogether. "Tell me what you think of me."
"I think you're wonderful, Steve." Donna's reply was swift, honest. To punctuate it, she ran a tongue along his cheek, thrusting it deep into his mouth.
Kramer longed to be free of his clothing. His pants felt so tight that he feared he would burst them before getting them off. She felt, if her flushed face and increased rate of breathing meant anything, the same way. He began to gather her blouse up. She raised her arms, allowing him to pull the garment up over her head. Then he helped remove her bra. After disposing of it, too, he gazed in appreciation.
Steve had never felt quite this way about her before. Just two days previous, it had been only raw, animal lust between them. She had been an impersonal object to fuck in the quickest, most violent way possible. Now she was a person, a woman pulsing with desires, dreams, frustrations; alive, breathing, real. She was his. He liked the new Donna better.
When he peeled off his shorts, she watched. Watching and smiled in open pleasure at a large staff that jutted stiffly at attention. She reached out, without being asked, and touched the hed.
Then she stood Up and unzipped her skirt, letting it fall to the floor beside her. She would have begun on her panties, too, only he stopped her by planting a kiss against her pan tied crotch. She caressed the back of his head with her fingertips.
Kramer wondered what made this moment more memorable, more profound than any of the others. Why should he feel so overwhelmed, so delighted with himself and her? The logic defied explanation.
He proceeded to the business at hand. He went beneath her panties, tugging them down until the dark triangle of her pubic hair was fully exposed. He lifted her onto the bed and began kissing her belly, her thighs, everywhere that he could reach. When he tapped her leg with a forefinger, she opened for him, permitting him access to her cunt. He kissed there, too, letting his tongue play along her cunt-lips, then dip lightly into the vestibule.
She squirmed under his attentions. He stopped and stripped away his shirt, so he would have nothing between her and him. For one long moment they just clung to one another, aware of the feel, the sensation of pleasure this intimate nearness created. Then he moved above her and entered, burying his shaft so deeply that she gasped. His prick slid between the moist walls that closed snugly about him.
She sensed his need and immediately lowered and lifted, letting his prick almost escape her grip before swallowing it completely again in that warm well. Again and again she lowered and lifted. Kramer experienced pleasure that he hadn't known in years. Every nerve in his body was aware of the caressing warmth of her cunt encasing him.
She rotated on his shaft. She made him know how happy she was to have him there. Made him know in a way no other woman had. But he wouldn't think about other women. Not just yet.
Kramer couldn't control himself any longer. He began moving in rhythm with her. Quick, powerful thrusts shoved his cock in completely, then her vaginal walls took over, contracting downward on his hard-on until the meaty crown was captured and squeezed. He thrust again and felt the same pleasure. For endless minutes-it might have been an hour, it might have been two hours-the cycle repeated itself. They had never loved with such abandon, with such contempt for tomorrow.
Finally her cunt tightened around him. He felt the swelling of an approaching climax, an orgasm for both of them. He held back as long as he could, until the blood seemed to inflate his cock past the bursting point. The eruption awed even him: searing spurts of semen that must have doused her inner walls white. To Kramer it seemed as if he had climaxed with his whole body. The release lanced through all the nerves of his groin, hissing from deep inside him and escaping through the channel of his rod buried inside her.
Then they were again clawing at one another. To Kramer's surprise, his prick was still hard and stiff. The erection didn't last long, however. Both were intent on quick and total ecstasy. He let the mounting need build as rapidly as it wanted. Donna gasped, strained, shuddered. He felt his own climax once again swell into release.
They lay in one another's arms a long time before words were necessary, he stroking her hair, she trailing cool fingers across his perspiring chest.
"You said you tried to get into the next party," she murmured. "Tell me about it."
With an effort, Kramer dragged himself back to the present. "Maybe I should have said, the last party. The others may not know it yet, but old Laurens is closing out operations. At least, that's the impression I get from one of my informants, a girl who calls herself Jan. She says Laurens told her this after a few drinks, then ordered her to keep her lip buttoned."
Donna was silent, digesting this information. "When is it?"
"Tomorrow night. Eight p.m. as usual. We know the time, the place, and the players. Shall we crash it?"
She shivered. "Would we be in danger?"
Kramer considered. He honestly wasn't sure, although he didn't plan to take a gun along. "I don't think so. But if you want me to, I'll go alone. Shall I?"
"No. I'll go with you."
"Is that a promise?"
Her arms tightened around him. "What do you think?"