Chapter 1
Randy Garten had just stepped out of the shower, and he knew he had a hard night ahead of him. Even though he had to teach tomorrow, he had a twenty-two-year-old English major waiting for him in the bedroom, and he was looking forward to giving her some extracurricular education.
"Professor, you've got a beautiful body. You could be an athlete instead of a teacher." Patti Payne looked up at him adoringly from the bed.
She was barely five feet tall, and weighed no more than one hundred pounds, but she looked like dynamite. Long, golden-blonde hair, and breasts like small melons.
"The name is Randy, baby, when you're in my bedroom," and with that he climbed into bed with her and started sucking on one of her nipples.
Her thighs were working together, and her breasts were rising and falling from her breathing. With an ecstatic sigh he kissed her mouth, hard, then harder, forcing her lips apart so that his teeth grazed hers before he pushed his tongue through and into her mouth.
His hand went away, wandering over her body, trembling over the luscious flesh. He reached right down and slid his hand along her leg, up over the knee and up the thigh. He played with the thighs, teasing them with his fingertips, drawing his nails over the glossy young flesh, teasing her without touching her cunt. She moved and slithered on the bed, eyes closed in a heat of sensuality.
He too was fluttering inside. This was it. He moved his mouth from hers and ran his lips over her slim, soft face.
"Put your tongue in my mouth," he murmured.
Her lips sought his; then he felt the soft, wet sliver of her tongue edge between his lips and push, into his mouth. She flicked it in and out like a cobra, breathing into his mouth, breathing her passion.
He sucked her tongue, his saliva mingling with hers, then forced it to retreat as he filled her mouth with his tongue.
Her hands moved around his head and neck, but occasionally they jerked when his superb technique gave her more of a shock.
Softly he began to brush her with his fingertips. Gently, gently, back and forth, until the moisture began to develop along her smooth, young thighs. Then he moved, searched for and found the wet, hard little projection.
Gently he massaged it, feeling it increase in thickness, harden in his fingers. Patti began to squeal and jerked her head away from his, then back in little gusts of uncontrollable passion.
"Oh, God!" she squealed, and thrust her tongue wildly into his mouth the way he'd instructed her.
Randy, his face hot, perspiration beading his brow, worked his fingers along, pushing up through the tight, moist flesh which was smooth as sealskin. Patti jerked and passed her thighs tightly over his hand, hindering his progress. He felt the warm flesh of her thighs bulging around his hand. Gently he tickled her with his fingers, and gradually she relaxed again and opened her legs.
'I can't stand this much longer,' he thought. 'I'll have to get in the bitch or I'll come first.'
He leaned up from her a little and looked at her. Her face was flushed; she didn't open her eyes, and her lips were open, quivering every so often. He looked down at her body. The nightdress was up around her hips, revealing the delicious proportions of her thighs, the soft bulges of skin between her legs, the little area of down at her thigh juncture.
He swooped down to her breasts, kissed them, sucked the nipples, making her squirm with unbearable ecstasy. He ran his lips down over her ribs, her belly, which yielded spongily before the pressure. He covered her hips with hot, wet kisses, following the crease of her groin, licking the smooth, warm-tasting skin of her thighs.
"Oh, Christ! Christ!" She seemed incapable of saying anything but those two words as she wriggled her shoulders in the air and squirmed her hips and belly under his lips.
He moved his lips tantalizingly along the fleshy tops of her thighs.
"Oh, I can't stand it!"
But she didn't close her legs, and he thought, 'You'll have more than this to stand before I've finished, you lovely little cunt.'
Gently he pushed his hands under her buttocks. They were tightened now, tense in his hands as she strained up toward his lips. He grasped a buttock in each hand and felt them, digging in his fingers, feeling them relax onto his palms, flood out in a sudden give of flesh all over his hands.
He gripped them pushed her thighs wider with his head and licked her.
She made noises of torment, as if she were gargling with water in her throat. He flicked his tongue into the aperture, which seemed to give way on all sides.
She began to squirm in convulsive spasms. Her breath passed through her lips in a continuous, groaning whimper.
As her movements became wilder and less controlled, he eased off and eventually removed his mouth from her.
His penis was sticking out like a pike. He was afraid she might run from the room at the sight of its size, but instead she fixed her fascinated gaze on it as if hypnotized.
He ran his lips all around her neck and put his tongue in her ear until she shivered with the sensation and put her arms back around his neck.
For a few seconds he kneaded her again until she was moaning with pleasure, then he slithered onto her body.
Oh, the delight of feeling that warm, soft flesh meet his at so many points at once! It was as if she were gently kissing him all over.
For several seconds Randy just lay on her, rubbing her fleshy lower belly, grating his chest, his hairy chest, against the smooth silk of her breasts, moistening her lips with his tongue, licking her closed eyelids, stroking her golden plaits as he worked his loins into an unendurable state of dynamic tension.
"Patti, my sweet," he whispered. "Now I'm going to give you real delight."
In answer she gripped him with her slim arms and hugged him tight, murmuring still, simply, "Oh, Randy, Randy!"
He slipped his hand down. between their bodies, rough hair of his on one side, glossy, white flesh of hers on the other. He found the vagina and moved down for the entry.
Her arms tightened around him in frightened anticipation as her legs hung limply apart.
"Now," he muttered.
His cock slipped on the moisture of her thighs, encountered the soft, giving wetness, and then, with a gasp from them both, moved into the opening.
He thrust smoothly forward to a tighter region, and she uttered a stifled scream, jerking her hips backward. But he followed them with his loins and jogged gently on her, probing in no further, moving in and out just an inch or so while she became accustomed to the pressure.
Gradually she relaxed and her thighs went limp again on either side of his hips. He put his hands between their bodies and squeezed her breasts hard. She drew in her breath with a swoosh and wriggled invitingly down in the region where he was waiting to advance.
He flexed his hips in a little more, and she gasped and drew back again.
After a second or two she untensed again and he screwed his loins in little, circular motions on hers, pushing no further into her.
He turned her face, which was pressing sideways into the bed, and kissed her, slipping his tongue into her mouth, licking the corners of her lips until she, responded and thrust her own little tongue at his ... He screwed her gently, so gently, moving inward a fraction of a centimeter at a time. Every time he moved in, she tensed and he moved no further for a while.
He found it excruciating not to be able to plunge right up her to the very hilt of his power, but it also inflicted on him a fresh innovation, an exquisite form of self-torture. He moved his hands under her armpits. Yes, they were sweating, too. She was in a real answering, fever heat.
The thin pricking of sensation seemed to be at the breaking point; it seemed, of its own accord, to be bursting up and up, and it was only when she cried out again in anguish that he realized he was thrusting with greater and greater force. Only this time he couldn't slow down, couldn't stop and mark time to allow her to recover.
Tightly he held her upper arms while he wriggled his hips in closer.
She felt as if her belly, her loins, were being purged in a painful, splitting scourging. And always, always as she thought it eased, the pain broke out afresh and the great object tearing and thundering inside swept up, impossibly, farther and farther.
Randy was in delirium. He moved his hands under her ass, pushing his fingers, crushing into that tightly grasping pipeline. He squeezed her buttocks in a paroxysm of sensuality, thrust his fingers at her little rosebud. And all the time the fire was growing and growing, drawing obscenities from his mouth. He had nearly disappeared into her body now. There was little left to go. By the time of the explosion which was twisting his lips with its imminence, he would be crushing right in, stuffing her with the entirety of his penis. He pulled her thighs up to facilitate his last two inches and pushed home the last length of pulsating cock. Patti gasped, but a gasp which was three parts pleasure, one part shock.
The doctor's loins were aflame. He was heavy and prickling inside her. It felt ready to burst along its whole length. His belly was heaving in and out; his hands rifled her ass, pinching it, grabbing it in paroxysms, digging at her while she squirmed on his fingerpoints.
"Patti!" he moaned.
"Randy," she answered tenderly through her regrowing passion.
His lips moved, but no sounds came out except his choking breath. It was coming. He rammed smack into her, burying his cock so deep that his force made her squeal. In his belly there was a churning, a churning that was pure essence of sensation. Everything paled; he felt dizzy. The heat and solid, pricking fury of the sensation was everything, but for dazed impressions of this beautiful body, this beautiful girl lying under him, giving him such ecstasy from her lovely, passionate flesh.
In the depths of his chest a long-drawn, choking gasp slowly followed the course of the loin-convulsing drawing of his groaning. He leaned up from her except for his loins. He gripped her waist just above the hips and squeezed it with more and more force as the sensations rushed inside him and with a last rush shattered out and into her as he jerked uncontrollably, until he let go of her waist and slipped exhaustedly down onto the warmth of her flesh. Red marks were left on the tender white flesh where his hands had gripped.
When Professor Randy Garten finished his classes Friday, he breathed a sigh of relief that was heard throughout the classroom. He watched the students file out in a rush before he rose from his desk and indulged in a luxurious stretch. As his students frequently remarked to each other, particularly the young female students, Randy Garten looked like anything but a professor, and least of all a professor of abnormal psychology. He was six foot one, with thick, curly black hair, deep-blue eyes that seldom missed anything, and the wide shoulders and powerful physique of a professional athlete. And because he looked considerably younger than his thirty-four years, he was often mistaken by strangers on the campus as a student himself.
He put a sheaf of papers that had to be graded that weekend into his briefcase and switched off the light, locking the door behind him as he left. Walking down the hall, he nodded pleasantly and absently at a passing student or teacher, unaware of the calculating, often hungry stares bestowed on him by the opposite sex. His mind was busy planning the weekend, wondering how many hours he would be able to devote to his book on extrasensory perception. In addition to being a psychologist, Randy Garten was a leading authority on the supernatural, and he spent almost as much time investigating the so-called spiritual world-elusive ghosts, in most cases as he did in his own classroom.
Turning into his office, he smiled at his part-time secretary, Gina, who was busy on the telephone, and went into his own private office, sinking down into the soft leather chair. Most people didn't realize it, he thought with irony, but a good teacher needed as much stamina in his feet as he did in his brain.
"Are you going to be here another thirty minutes, Doctor?" Gina asked from the doorway.
"I hadn't planned on it," he said slowly. "Why?"
Gina came over to his desk and laid a message on it. She was a tall, raven-haired girl in her early twenties, with high, pointed breasts and long, delicately tapered legs that Randy often found distracting when he was trying to concentrate. She'd been a student in one of his classes until he offered her the job as his part-time secretary, knowing she needed the money for tuition. As she leaned over his desk, her hip brushing against his arm, Randy became acutely aware of her femininity, as he'd been doing more and more in the last few weeks. He couldn't help but notice the way her full, ripe bosom strained at her cotton blouse, pulling it taut, or the fragrance of her body, a mixture of perfume and soap and something else, something he couldn't define perhaps nothing more, he decided, than the odor of a healthy, vibrant young woman. Whatever the fragrance consisted of, he found it pleasantly exciting.
"A woman called," said Gina, "a Miss Swanson. She said she wants to see you this afternoon. I told her you'd be leaving for the weekend and tried to make an appointment for Monday morning, but she sounded so ... well, so desperate I just couldn't refuse her. She sounded like she was on the verge of tears."
"Did she say what it was in reference to?" Randy asked.
He tried to keep his eyes fixed on hers, but it was difficult with the round, bewitching curve of her hip so close to his shoulder, not more than a couple of inches away as she stood looking down at him with those large, liquid eyes.
"She said only that it was in reference to psychic phenomena. More ghosts, I suppose," added Gina wryly.
"You don't believe in them, do you, Gina?" he asked.
She shrugged, pulling her blouse taut against her pointed breasts.
"You've never found any real evidence, have you, Professor? Oh, I want to believe, just for your sake. I mean anything that verifies your research will make you happy. And anything that makes you happy, well, I guess it makes me happy, too."
She smoothed her skirt over her thighs, and Randy's eyes automatically followed her hands. He noticed that her skirt was almost five inches above her knees, revealing the beginning of her smooth thighs.
He coughed. "About your skirt, Gina ... "
"I'm sorry about that," she said quickly. "I just didn't have anything else to wear today. I know it's not exactly dignified around the office. I won't wear it again, Doctor, I promise."
He smiled. "I was about to say, Gina, that you should wear it more often. Takes away some of the stuffiness around here."
She smiled gratefully, her even white teeth glistening between her full lips. "Thanks, Doctor."
"And that's another thing I've been meaning to talk to you about," he said sternly. "You've been my secretary for two months now, and it's about time you stopped addressing me as if we were in the classroom. Randy's the name."
"Randy," she said softly, caressing the name.
For an instant as she gazed down at him, he saw something flicker in her eyes, a ravenous hunger, an urgent, pent-up desire. Then she quickly stepped back, as if ashamed.
"Miss Swanson said she'd be here by five," she said. "Another twenty minutes, at least. If you've got any dictation for me ... "
"Nothing that can't wait until Monday morning, Gina. Why don't you run along home now? You've probably got a boy friend that's anxious to meet you ... ? "
"No, I haven't," she said quickly. "I'm not anxious to get home at all. It's just a room in a boarding house, anyway."
"No boy friend?" Randy asked, puzzled. "A lovely girl like you without at least two or three men fighting for the privilege of taking you out? That's hard to believe."
"Oh I get asked out plenty of times," Gina said. "It isn't as if there's a shortage of dates. I'm just, well, just fussy about who I spend my time with. Frankly, Doctor Randy, I mean I'd rather spend my time working for you. In fact, I've got some correspondence to catch up on, so if you don't mind, I'll take care of it while you wait for Miss Swanson."
"Go right ahead, Gina."
She flashed him a smile and walked out of his office. He watched her thoughtfully as she closed the door behind her. For the first time, he found himself wondering about Gina Rowe. He'd never really thought of her sexually. His mind had been so preoccupied with his work that up until now he'd regarded her only as a rather pretty, very efficient secretary. Watching her walk out of his office in that graceful, effortless manner of hers, watching the way her ass rippled beneath her tight skirt, admiring her narrow waist and long, lovely, tapered legs, he realized he'd never taken the trouble to look at her before. She was an extremely attractive girl, and she was obviously fond of him,. More than fond, he corrected himself, if that brief, hot flash in her eyes was any indication.
As he worked for the next twenty minutes over an article on animal psychology, he couldn't get her out of his mind. He found himself wondering if her body were as lush as her figure promised, or whether she used some of the cunning devices he knew females used to enhance their sex appeal on the surface padded bras with special uplifts, tight girdles to hold in flabby mounds of unwanted flesh, even padded panties to make their buttocks more ample and curvaceous. That didn't sound at all like Gina, but a man never knew until he saw the authentic article in the nude. He was plagued, too, by doubts about her sexual life. It just didn't seem possible anyone could be relatively inactive at twenty-three, at least anyone as frankly desirable as Gina. And yet there was something about her, some indefinable aura that persuaded him she was a one-man woman. Maybe it was the way her eyes shone, or the rich sheen of her hair, or the glow of her flawless, creamy skin, or maybe it was a combination of all these things that gave her that air of purity, of being untouched and unused.
Another thing that made Randy suspect she had few men was that sad, longing air she always seemed to have, as if something vital was missing from her life.
Bullshit, he concluded. Sexually deprived girls were rare enough at twenty-three, but it was simply too much to expect a girl as beautiful and sexy as Gina to remain intact.
His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. Gina stepped in, saying, "Miss Swanson is here, Doctor."
"Send her in."
A young blonde girl-not more than eighteen, he judged-stepped into his office, and Gina shut the door behind her.
"I'm Professor Garten," he said. rising. "Have a seat, Miss Swanson."
She offered a soft, dimpled hand. "Sherry Swanson. It's awfully nice of you to see, me. I know you must be anxious to go home for the weekend, and I wouldn't have bothered you except ... except ... " Her voice trailed off, and her large green eyes glistened with tears.
Randy went around his desk and patted her shoulder reassuringly.
"Everything is going to be all right, Sherry. Just take a deep breath and calm down." He brought a chair forward and placed her in it gently. She clutched her purse, staring up at him with wide, fearful eyes. Her long, blonde hair framed a face that had an innocent, angelic quality.
'She's nothing but a child,' he thought. Then his eyes strayed to her body, and he corrected his assessment. She wore a sweater that emphasized her small, compact bust, and matching hot pants that clung snugly to her thighs. Her legs, Randy noticed, showed the smooth, golden skin that some blondes seemed to be gifted with. Sherry Swanson was the kind of girl who would be smooth and golden all over her petite body. She looked very supple, as small-boned persons frequently are. Randy had the impression she could bend over and touch her toes without the slightest effort, or for that matter twist her body into a variety of positions, like a contortionist. When she crossed her legs, he suddenly realized he'd been staring at her body. His face flushed, and he went back behind his desk and sat down.
"Now let's take it from the beginning, Sherry."
She nodded, running the pink tip of her tongue across her lips. :ike everything else about her, they were small but very sensual.
"Last week," she began in a slightly shaky voice, "I got a telegram informing me that my mother had died, leaving me her house at Derring. Do you know where that is? It's about forty miles from here, just a village, really. The house isn't actually in the town, it's on the outskirts, on a hill. My mother lived there alone, except for the caretaker, Groton. My father died years ago. Anyway, Ava and I--Ava's my foster sister, adopted when she was a child--Ava and I decided to stay on at the house for a while after the funeral, to sort of tidy things up before I sell it. I'd better explain that it's far too big and expensive to maintain for one person. My mother refused to sell it because of sentiment, I suppose. Our family has lived there for generations. It's an old mansion, actually, run down now, but it was beautiful when I lived there as a child. Anyway, a few nights ago, the ... the horrible things started happening."
She paused, and Randy said, "What kind of things? Be as specific as possible, Sherry."
"Well, about three o'clock in the morning I was awakened by this horrible sobbing noise. I got out of bed, thinking it must have been Ava, but she was asleep in her room. I walked through the house, trying to find the source of the noise, but it seemed to be coming from everywhere, a horrible, echoing crying." She shivered. "Finally, it stopped. I was about to go back to bed when the laughing started. It wasn't an ordinary laugh. It was the most diabolical, cruel kind of laughing I've ever heard a taunting, really. I was standing in the library shaking with fear and suddenly the chandelier came crashing down. It's one of those heavy, ancient chandeliers, and if it had hit me-" her voice shook,-"but it didn't. It missed me by not more than a foot or so. Ava woke up and came running. I told her about the noises, and she said it must have been a nightmare because she hadn't heard a thing until the noise of the chandelier crashing woke her up. If was old anyway, she said, and the chain must have given way. I finally went back to bed, but not to sleep. Then the next night the banging began."
"Banging?" said Randy.
"Yes. On the walls, on the ceiling, everywhere. The whole house seemed to shake with it. It was as if a giant fist was smashing at the house. This time Ava heard it, too, and Groton, the caretaker. He sleeps downstairs, in the servants' quarters."
"How long did this banging last?"
"Ten minutes or so. We all stood downstairs listening to it. And then on the way upstairs, the statue fell."
"What statue?"
"There was a large marble statue in a nook at the top of the stairs, a statue of a nude woman. If Ava hadn't shouted at me, I'd never have gotten out of the way in time. She and Groton were at the bottom of the stairs. I was halfway up them."
"And that's all?"
Her eyes glistened with tears. "Isn't that enough? The next night there weren't any ... any accidents, I guess you'd call them. But there was the laughing and crying again." She put her hands to her temples and squeezed. "It's enough to, drive a person mad."
"Any history of this kind of thing over the years when your mother lived there?" he asked.
"Mother never mentioned it if there was."
"What kind of a relationship did you have with your mother?"
"She loved me, of course." Sherry caught her breath. "You don't think she has anything to do with this?"
"I don't think anything yet, Sherry. But I'd like very much to spend the weekend at the house, if it's all right with you. We'll soon find out how authentic these noises are. And the so-called accidents."
Sherry impulsively jumped up and clutched his hand. "Would you, Doctor Garten? I don't think I can stand another night of it. I'd feel so much safer with you there ... "
Her hand was hot and moist in his. He stood up. "I'll drive up this evening. If you don't mind, I'll bring a colleague. I'll need an impartial witness and observer."
"Bring anyone you like. The more, the better."
She followed him to the door. Before he could open it, she gratefully flung her arms around him and kissed him on the cheek. "This is so sweet Of you. It'll be wonderful to have a real man with us."
"What about the caretaker?" Randy asked, acutely aware that her arms were still around his neck and her small, firm body pressed to his. He wondered if she realized her breasts were digging hard against his chest. She stepped away then, either consciously or unconsciously thrusting her hips and soft belly against him before releasing her grasp. He felt a sharp twinge of excitement.
Sherry wrinkled her straight little nose. "Groton is a creep. I'd have fired him days ago, except that Ava is so insistent about his staying. You'd think they were lovers or something."
A flash of realization lit up her eyes for an instant. "It couldn't be," she murmured. "But I wouldn't put anything past Ava." She reached into
her purse and took out a map.
"This is a map of Derring and the surrounding area. The location of the house is marked. My phone number is on there, too, in case you have trouble finding it."
Randy opened the door with a grin. "Pretty sure of yourself, weren't you, Sherry?"
"To tell you the truth, I expected some old fuddy-duddy with white hair, a sort of fatherly figure I could wring sympathy out of. I didn't expect a hunk of man like you. See you tonight."
She was halfway past Gina's desk when she turned. "By the way," she said in a soft voice, glancing at Gina in an odd, catty way, "I've already reserved your bedroom. It's next to mine. That's safest, don't you think?"
Before he could reply, Gina muttered, "I wonder."
Sherry walked out of the office, jouncing her cute little ass, turning at the door to give one last wave.
"I know it's none of my business," said Gina, standing up, "but if I were you, Randy, I wouldn't let that innocent face of hers deceive you. She's about as hot as an express train, if I know anything about women."
"You're right about one thing, Gina," said Randy in a hard voice. "It's none of your business."
Her face grew pink. "I'm sorry. I guess I spoke out of turn. I was just thinking of you."
"I don't know whether it's occurred to you," he said dryly, "but I am over twenty-one and unmarried, and I do take women out occasionally. I've even been known to make love to them, when they're attractive."
She stared at her toe silently for a minute. Then she said in a voice that was almost a whisper, "Do you ... do you have to like them a lot first?"
"It helps," he admitted. "Why?".
She swallowed hard, and her eyes slowly went up to meet his. "Do you like me, Randy?"
His gaze traveled to her full bust, which rose and fell unevenly with inner excitement. He had a wild impulse to cup her breasts in his hands and squeeze them gently, to run his hands over the narrow taper of that waist and down those beautifully molded hips and firm thighs. He quickly strangled the urge, not because he thought she'd fight he sensed that she wouldn't-but because they were standing there with the door open onto the hallway, in plain view of anyone passing by.
"Of course I like you, Gina," he said finally. "Why?"
She stepped closer to him, and he saw the pulse throbbing in her creamy-white throat. She took a deep breath and started to say something. Her eyes mirrored an inner struggle for a moment. Then her teeth sank into her lower lip, biting off whatever it was she was going to say. She quickly went back to her desk.
"I just wondered, that's all," she said weakly.
Randy glanced at his watch, remembering he would need an impartial observer to go to Derring with him that evening.
"Get me Professor Farley on the phone he told Gina. "Try his office first and if he isn't there, call his home." He went back into his office and sat down while Gina dialed.
He was certain he knew what she was going to say before she changed her mind. She was going to ask him to make love to her; she was going to verify what he'd seen earlier in her eyes. The blood began to pound in his temples at the thought of that luscious body, offered freely and willingly to him.
"I called his home," said Gina, poking her head in the doorway. "He's gone camping for the weekend."
Randy ran over a list of names mentally. None of them were available for the weekend. He stared thoughtfully at Gina for a moment before he spoke.
"How would you like to take a trip this weekend? Nothing scandalous," he said with a laugh, seeing the astonished look on her face. "This is strictly business. I'm going to Sherry Swanson's house up in Derring, about forty miles from here, to investigate some weird phenomena. I'll need an impartial witness, someone with a level head and scientific bent of mind. I think you qualify both counts."
"I'd love to," she answered quickly.
"Fine," he said, standing up. "According Sherry, I'd better warn you it might dangerous!"
"I feel perfectly safe with you, Randy."
"Good. Run home and pack an overnight case. I'll pick you up about seven. We'll have dinner the way. Fair enough?"
She smiled. "Fair enough. It's about time I had an exciting weekend for a change."
"Exciting scientifically, you mean, of course," he said, locking his desk.
Her eyes smoldered. "Of course," she said softly.