Chapter 13

I knew instinctively that Mary Ellen Cuthbert would nor be an easy person to inspect for birthmarks in intimate places. In fact, she was going to be damned difficult. I'd met the type before. She was probably the daughter of some retired Kentucky Colonel, and she would be very shy and perhaps even operate on the theory of the old school-that as far as men were concerned ladies were solid from the knees up.

It wouldn't be easy, but it did have to be done. I might not be around tomorrow. Besides, I was seeing Dave Keller at eight, and I wanted to give him the name of the girl we were after.

Time was running out. I went upstairs, knocked at the door, and waited.

"Come in," she said in a thick southern accent.

I opened the door and went it. Mary Ellen looked up with interest and surprise, as evidenced by an eyebrow that climbed skyward at my entrance. She was lying on her stomach on the bed reading a book, wearing an organdy nightgown that was feminine, frilly, and ruffled. She sat up and swung her legs from the bed. As she did so, the nightgown parted to show a glimpse of smooth curved leg, and she calmly rearranged the material to cover the exposed flesh.

"Mr. Sly," she said, smiling demurely, "this is a pleasant surprise. I thought you were much too busy with the other girls to notice little old me."

Carefully, firmly, I closed the door behind me. "Not at all," I said. "In fact, I was hoping you and I could have an intimate heart to heart talk."

"Just how intimate would you like our talk?" she asked.

Some southern accents leave me cold, but Mary Ellen's was rather warm and personal and I found myself enjoying the casualness of it. Also, there was the fact that under the frilly nightgown she obviously had a body to be proud of. I recalled seeing it displayed in the bikini when I'd first glimpsed the patio and its lovely female occupants. She didn't have as much as some of the other girls, but she had enough, and it was all of good quality.

I moved toward her, wondering how I should approach her. She seemed to sense my uncertainty, and she patted the bed beside her.

"Why don't you just sit right down here, Mr. Sly, and we'll have our talk."

I sat down on the bed beside her and she placed a casual hand on my leg, smiling as I jumped with the surprise of the contact. "Now, then-" I began.

"I understand this is your last day with us," she said.

"I'm afraid so. It's unfortunate I couldn't have gotten to know you better."

"Yes, it is," she said, "but I'm sure we can make up for lost time. Would you like to help me undress, Mr. Sly?"

I stared at her. Her hand was physically on my leg; I wondered if she were verbally pulling it. However, her pretty features, framed by the soft brown hair, were quite serious.

"Yes, yes, of course," I said.

"Well?"

I reached out for her and she leaned toward me. I took the frilly nightgown in my fingers and slowly peeled it back from her creamy skin. It was tied in front, and I untied it. The nightgown fell away from her, and I lifted it from her body and let it drop on the bed.

"Gracious," she exclaimed, "that feels good-the touch of your hands, I mean. Will you kiss me, Mr. Sly?"

I kissed her. I took her china face in my hands and I kissed her.

"Kiss me again," she begged.

I kissed her again, on the shoulder this time.

"And here," she said.

I kissed her there.

"Kiss me all over," she insisted. "I want you to kiss me all over."

I kissed her all over. "Do everything to me." I did everything to her....