Chapter 12

WHEN ROD WALKED into Melody's room at the clinic, she was sleeping. Her shiny hair was spread upon the pillow fanwise, her lovely face was in complete repose. But occasionally, as he watched, one cheek or the other would twitch and once her lip lifted, then relaxed.

He turned to Nola, who was sitting on a metal chair near the bed. "How is she?"

"Coming along well, I think."

Rod took Melody's pulse routinely, saw that the glucose bottle was nearly empty. "We might as well take down this infusion set. She won't need it any more. Do you have a swab and some alcohol?"

"Yes." She rose and produced the requested articles. He took the tape from the infusion needle, pressed a finger firmly over the puncture and withdrew the needle with a swift, sure movement. He pressed the pledget of cotton over the site. "Tape this down securely, will you, Nola? Sometimes we get a hemotoma from a needle this large."

All Rod's nervousness and hesitation had vanished. The small surgical attentions he was obliged to give Melody seemed to have restored his aplomb. He was completely the professional now, alertly watching Nola deftly execute his command.

The nurse was hardly finished when Melody's eyes opened. She looked about muzzily.

"Go get yourself some coffee, Nola," advised Dr. Barrett softly.

"I'll be just down the hall if you need me. At the nurse's desk," she replied.

Quietly she left the doctor alone with his patient.

Rod stood at the foot of the bed and watched the girl's pansy-soft eyes as they wandered over the room, watched as a frown creased her brow. Then Melody looked at him, and licked dry lips.

"Like some water?"

"Please. Where am I?"

He gave her the water first and she drank thirstily.

"You're in the Fontenot Clinic in Kenton. How good is your memory?"

"Not too good, I'm afraid." The frown stayed put. "Why am I here? And who are you?"

"Well, it seems you ran through a window of your room. You're sort of cut up. I'm Dr. Barrett."

The frown deepened. "I ran through a window!"

"So we think. You were found beneath it. The window was shattered. You don't remember?"

"No."

"How far back tonight do you remember?"

"Well, I remember waking up a while ago in this room. But I felt weak and dizzy. I guess I fell asleep again-say, what time is it?"

"Nearly two in the morning. Do you remember anything at all about the evening just past?"

She concentrated, knitting her brows. "I'm drawing a blank. Can you give me a clue? Who brought me here?"

"Miss Pilgrim and myself. I was taking her home. We'd been to Kenton in Missy's car, riding around and-uh -discussing business. You see, she's to be my office nurse. My name is Rodney Barrett and I've just come to Kenton. I expect to practice here." Rod was deliberately loquacious, trying to establish a certain familiarity between his patient and himself-inviting her confidences, so to speak.

Her eyes found his. "Doctor, welcome to Kenton. I hope you make out well. I'm glad you were here to help me."

He smiled. "Well, thank you. I-" He stopped. A flash of pain had crossed the girl's features.

"Oh, yes," she said. "I'm beginning to remember. My mother and I had a fearful row about... " Her lips came down tight.

Rod moved to her, sat on the side of the bed and took her hand.

"I'm going to call you Melody, and I'm going to ask you not to wall yourself away from me. Obviously, something has been giving you a bad time. Talking it out often helps." He gave her the full benefit of his warm, generous smile. "And you can tell me anything. I'm the most understanding guy you're likely ever to run into!"

Her mind was gradually becoming clearer. She looked into his eyes deeply, trying to find something there. And apparently she did find it. Yes, the doctor was understanding. And kind. A nice person, she thought. Suddenly a hard lump seemed to melt inside her. Rolling to her side, she began to cry bitterly, desperately. The bulky surgical dressing below her neck and the pain of the wound, made her move to her back again. Her breasts poked high against the material of her pajamas. It was opaque but soft and clinging. Her whole bosom heaved as she sobbed and wailed.

He let her cry it out, even at the risk of starting the wound to bleeding. When she began to calm, he leaned over, plucked tissues from a box on the table, held them against her nose. "Blow."

Dutifully she blew, and he performed the rest of the job with a gentleness that made her heart ache fiercely. His attitude completely disarmed her. He was taking possession of her smoothly, without visible effort. Already she felt safe and comfortable with him. He had mentioned talking. Well, never had she wanted to talk more. But the things she wanted to talk about, she told herself, were filthy, unmentionable.

"You say you had a row with your mother?" he prompted.

"Yes. About Barry Norton."

"Norton?" It was Rod's turn to frown. Wasn't that the fellow that Hackthorne had spoken of, the one Missy suspected of criminal rape? "Who is he?" Rod asked carefully. "A friend of yours?"

"He's the man I'm supposed to be engaged to. I want to break it off. My mother doesn't want me to-so we had this awful quarrel about-"

"And that's why you walked through your window?"

"Oh, no!"

"You mean it was an accident? You tripped or something, and fell through the glass?"

The frown returned to her face. "No. It was not an accident. I deliberately threw myself through it."

"But why, Melody? Why?"

She hesitated. "I know that people can tell a doctor what they would not tell anyone else. Still-you won't be shocked?"

"Nothing shocks me," he said soberly and not quite truthfully, but he needed the effect. "As I remarked before, you can tell me anything. Anything and everything. When a patient does that, often I can be of help."

"You sound like a psychiatrist, Dr. Barrett."

"That's exactly what I am."

She turned her face away. "That makes it harder. You'll come up with all sorts of bizarre reasons for my actions."

"I think you're jumping the gun, Melody. You have no idea what I'll find. I'm sure I don't. How much do you know about psychiatrists? You're not full of that TV and press nonsense, are you? Now, don't let's you and me get ahead of ourselves and make snap judgments. All I'm asking is that you confide in me a little. Tell me why, for instance, you tangled with all that glass?"

Now her need to unburden herself, carefully nurtured by Rod, overcame all defenses and hesitations, all shame. She smiled tremulously. "All right, doctor. I'll try to explain. You know, I suppose, that I-that I-"

"Yes?"

"That a few days ago I was raped. Beaten and raped!" She paused, waiting to see how he would take that statement.

"Such things do sometimes happen to girls," he remarked matter-of-factly. Dr. Fontenot, Dr. Hackthorne and Missy Blumendahl had been debating the crime in Rod's presence only half an hour before. They had seen fit to acquaint him with the matter because they had thought it might have some bearing on why Melody had made her bloody plunge. "Is that what you feared might shock me?"

"No, not that, doctor. Not the fact that I was raped and beaten." She gripped the covers with slender white fingers. "The thing is, I want it to happen again!"

Carefully he battled for his composure. Her admission had rocked him, all right. But he had to preserve the role of the understanding, shockproof confidant. He nodded sympathetically and inquired in ordinary tones, "The beating, too?"

"If that's a part of the big thing. I want that man to do the same things again, doctor. I want it so badly I'm sick. Now tell me, can a girl who has any decency, who is at all normal want something as sordid as rape? Of course not! So I'm indecent, dirty and indecent. And furthermore, I'm abnormal!"

"And that's why you took a dive through the window?"

"Yes. I was in despair, doctor. I still am in despair. Right now, as I talk to you, I feel that same impulse to punish myself, maybe kill myself. I'm rotten and dirty and sick-"

"Hey, take it easy. We don't want the bleeding to start again. We went to lots of trouble to stop it." Rod rose. "Gal, you do need talking to! Please believe me-nothing whatever is wrong with you, except a few cuts."

Melody was gaping at him.

"But you've had enough of me for now," Rod continued. "Get some rest. Don't worry, I'll be back and explain it all to you."

And he walked out of the room.

He returned early in the afternoon, right after Melody had been given a light luncheon. She had slept rather well, thanks to sedatives prescribed by Dr. Fontenot. Some of the sparkle was back in her eye. Apart from the dressings and tape covering the lacerations on her body, she hardly looked like an invalid.

She greeted Rod warmly. He pulled a chair close to the bed and got right down to business.

"Melody," he began, "you've been quite frank with me so far. Now, I want you to continue to be frank."

"I'll try," she promised.

"Fine. Then tell me this. Before the rape incident, did you ever really want a man? Did you ever actually crave sex?"

She averted her eyes. "Yes."

"When?"

"When I did some kissing and petting with Barry. It... it always seemed to set me on fire."

"Ah," said Rod. "A very normal reaction, I assure you. It's definite proof that you're healthy."

"What do you mean, doctor?"

"I mean that sexual desire is to be expected of any full-blooded, healthy woman when she sustains physical contact with a male who wants her." Rod paused, pursed his lips. Then he said, "Next question. When you found yourself craving sex, did you ever yield to temptation and go the distance?"

"No. Not voluntarily."

"Why not?"

"Because I-I considered myself decent. I considered sex before marriage immoral, not for nice girls." She reflected a moment. "Of course, there was that afternoon before I was... before it happened."

"Tell me about it."

"You see, Barry and I have been 'promised' since childhood. Naturally, over the years, that understanding resulted in some pretty warm situations. I guess you could say that I've allowed Barry some pretty shocking liberties-"

"Nothing can shock me, remember?"

"Maybe not, doctor. But they sure would shock other people. You know how it is. You don't start off with sex in mind. It just sort of creeps up on you. Well, usually I was on top of these scenes, and when danger approached I was able to wriggle away from it. But that day, somehow, things were different. We were in the woods. It was warm and pleasant. He had taken the usual liberties I spoke of, and all of a sudden I wasn't me any more. I seemed to lose control of myself. Before I knew it, he was taking off my briefs and I was helping him. It almost happened." She stopped, breathing hard as she remembered.

"Almost?"

"It was close, very close."

"How close?"

Her lips compressed. "Penetration."

"Pain?"

"Yes. Sudden, sharp pain. It lasted only a second or two-but it was enough to restore me to my senses. I tore away from him."

Rod nodded. He could visualize the incident clearly. "And what," he asked, "was your reaction after you got home and thought it over?"

"You say I should be frank. All right, doctor. Then I must tell you that I wished I hadn't jerked away. Rather, I wished he hadn't let me-had forced me to let him finish the job."

"This wish, I venture to guess, was detestable to you. You told yourself it was not the wish a nice girl should have."

"That's it, exactly. But by nightfall I was in a fever, doctor. That-that penetration-it had aroused me beyond bearing. It wasn't that I wanted Barry-I had already decided he wasn't for me. What I wanted was another man-any man." Melody looked at Rod pleadingly. "Do you understand? I was on fire. So I went out into that storm naked and let the storm have my body. I guess I was trying to cool myself, or maybe symbolically fulfill myself or something. Or maybe I was hoping, deep inside myself, that someone would come on me nude-would be incited to rape me-" Rod said nothing, knowing she had not finished her recital. As he anticipated, she waited only a moment before plunging on.

"And that's what actually did happen, doctor. Someone saw me there, all naked like that. He sneaked up behind me and struck me. I didn't actually lose consciousness. Down in all that grass and water, I had a-a-"

"A consummation?" Rod supplied.

"Yes. A wild, marvelous consummation. Then he took me to the barn and tied me. It started all over again, and I had another consummation equally marvelous. Oh, I'm an animal. A dirty animal!"

He smiled and squeezed her hand. "Melody, you're just a human being, with the good, healthy desires of a human being. That little episode with Barry Norton in the woods was hardly satisfactory, was it?"

"Oh, no. It wasn't satisfactory at all! But it certainly did light the fire."

"Correct. And later, when the fire was burning hottest and you were most vulnerable, you were taken pirate fashion. That time you got lots of satisfaction. Right?"

She was blushing. "You have no idea how right."

"Very well." He shrugged. "So the only complete, successful sex in your life, as far as your body was concerned, occurred when you were raped and beaten. Therefore you now associate successful sex with raping and beating. And you hate yourself, because you think that you're longing for that raping and beating." He laughed. "But you're not. You're just longing for the successful sex. Can you see that?"

Her mouth was open. "You mean?"

"Exactly," said Rod. "You've confused the objective of your longing with the means of attaining that objective. There are many means other than rape. Try one of the others. You might like it." He cocked a quizzical eyebrow at her.

"Oh, doctor. I've been a complete fool!"

"That's for sure," he agreed. "And not only because you didn't realize that being loved in one of the usual ways might give you even more satisfaction than being raped."

She sucked in a quick breath. "What else did I do wrong?"

He leveled a stern finger at her. "You chose to regard perfectly normal, perfectly healthy sexual desire as something abnormal, sick!" He shook the finger in mock severity. "Young lady, I thought such thinking went out with the dark ages."

"I was raised to think that way." Melody frowned. "My mother was always telling me sex was wicked. I know that as much as she could, she avoided going to bed with my father. She let him find it elsewhere and welcome."

"Never mind the past. Let's concern ourselves with the present-and, of course, the future. Do you understand what I've been trying to tell you?"

Her smile was warm. "I understand so well, I'm a little scared. I think that for the first time I see myself as I really am." Her face pinked. "I have healthy desires, not sick ones-but maybe too much of them. In other words, I'm a well-endowed girl in a loose sort of way." She lifted her eyes to his. "Too much of a good thing, you might say. Doctor, how can I cope with it?"

"Why not relax and enjoy it?" he suggested, quoting Nola. "Sort of do what comes naturally."

"But what about morals?"

"Oh, I leave those to the individual patient. It's only when one of them tries to foist his own particular moral values on others that I interfere." This time Rod was echoing not Nola but Dr. Hackthorne. "Just remember-stop telling yourself you're a bad girl. You're not a bad girl. You're simply a normally warm-blooded girl who has a normal and therefore demanding body."

"Again I ask," she said, averting her eyes, "what will I do about that?" Her cheeks were still pink.

"Don't you have friends? Male ones? I should think you'd have to fend them off by the dozen."

"No! That's the trouble. With Barry always around, the others gave up long ago." She shivered. "Anyway, I just wouldn't know how to go about it. Man-chasing, I mean."

He looked at her closely. "You won't have to chase anybody. You'll see. Soon enough, someone will be chasing you."

"But all these cuts," she said sadly. "I won't be attractive any more. I'll be scarred."

"Nonsense," Rod said. "Dr. Fontenot took all precautions. Most of the lacerations are superficial and will heal invisibly. Even the big wound there-" he pointed above her breast-"won't leave more than a trace of scar tissue. And even that will become virtually undetectable as time passes."

There was a long silence as doctor and patient regarded each other.

"You know," Melody said, "you're absolutely wonderful. You'll be a great success here, I'm certain. Just by talking to me, you've completely relieved my mind, made a new person out of me. You've pulled me out of despair, rescued me from-from insanity!"

"Oh, I wouldn't put it that strongly."

"Thank you. Thank you, doctor." In an understandable excess of gratitude, she seized his hand and kissed it. "Thank you!"

Thoroughly embarrassed, Rod retrieved his hand.

"I've got to be going," he said. "I'll drop in tomorrow and see how you're doing."

"I'll be doing fine," Melody promised.

Three days later, accompanied by Nola, Rod drove Melody home in Missy's pickup.

All during the drive, Melody sat relaxed and cheerful. In spirit, she was much removed from the girl whose frenzy and despair had made her charge a glazed window.

Besides, Melody had bethought herself of the fact that she did indeed have an admirer-a man, other than Barry Norton, who was both susceptible to her and accessible. Bridge Pilgrim.

Not once had he made the slightest effort to press his case. But she had seen more than once the stricken look on his face, although she had forced herself to ignore it. After all, he was of a somewhat older generation. She had blamed his obvious entrancement on the curves she didn't mind displaying and a man's normal reaction to them. But on thinking it out, she convinced herself she had divined something more. To picture the man, now, made her heart beat faster.

As the car carried her along, in her mind's eye she could see the proud way that Bridge carried his head, the quiet regularity of his features, the firm set of his lips, and the well-groomed softness of his dark hair, the swing of his big shoulders. He was always scrupulously clean, she had noticed. He had soft, kind eyes and Melody knew that she was in need of kindness.

Yes, Bridge was something to look forward to. Bridge was a man who would certainly bear a little investigation on her part...

Doctor and nurse deposited Melody at the house, saw her comfortably in bed. Rod ordered her to stay there for a few days to give the large wound a chance to heal thoroughly. He gave Lora careful instructions, and Nola promised to look in from time to time.

Then the two drove toward the Pilgrim cottage, Nola saying gravely, "She's a lovely girl, Rod. Will she be all right now?"

"All those cuts and lacerations will heal nicely, I think. As for the rest, we'll have to see."

"She seems fine to me. Not at all mixed up any more. I'd say you did a superlative job on her."

"Thanks. All I did was spread things out and place them in order, something she couldn't do for herself."

"Nor can I," Nola told him. She sighed heavily.

Rod glanced at her. "What do you mean?"

"I hate myself, just as she hated herself. And for much the same reasons."

Rod's response was to stop the truck. He turned on the seat and squarely faced Nola.

"What do you know of Melody's reasons? For that matter, how did you know she was mixed up?"

"I didn't eavesdrop, doctor," Nola replied with spirit. "Melody had a great lift in spirits after that second time you spoke to her. Whenever I happened to be in her room, she bubbled over, insisted on telling me all about it. She seemed to take quite a shine to me, wanted me to know everything-including the way you went about curing her." Nola bit her hp. "I'm jealous. When are you going to start curing me?"

"Of what, Nola? From the first, I've thought of you as thoroughly adjusted, as free of neurosis as any intelligent and sensitive person can be-"

"Oh, hell," Nola answered inelegantly. "You know perfectly well something is wrong, or at least mighty peculiar. You caught me practically with my pants down at that drive-in booze parlor."

Rod was delighted that she had at last brought up the subject. He had had all he could do, since that evening, to restrain himself from asking who the man was, how she felt about him, why she had chosen that particular time and place to yield to him.

"I suppose," he said carefully, "that bit of passion is what you think you hate yourself for."

"You bet, doctor. The way Melody hated herself for her passion. And suppose I told you that her passion, and mine, was serviced by exactly the same man?"

"What? Barry Norton? You must be joking!"

"I," insisted Nola, "never was more serious."

Stunned, Rod automatically started up the truck. In dazed silence he drove it a few hundred yards to the cottage, stopped it again.

She made no move to get out.

Rod cleared his throat. "Would you-ah-would you like to tell me about it?"

"Of course I would! Why do you think I brought it up? I was hesitant about going into it with you before- but after that smooth snow-job you did on Melody, I changed my mind." Her show of lightness, of bravado, suddenly deserted her. Trembling, she fell against him. "You must help me, Rod. I'm weak. Horribly weak. I can't withstand that man. There's something about him that simply hypnotizes me. I lose my will. He puts his arms around me and all I want is to-to yield to him-"

"Sounds as if you might love him."

"Oh, no, Rod! Believe me, I detest him."

His brow wrinkled, Rod was trying to put two and two together. "Did he force you?"

"No. He didn't have to." She told him about Barry picking her up at the train station, about what had happened at his camp. She told about Barry coming to the cottage, how on that occasion she had again yielded.

"I didn't know I was like that." She lifted big eyes swimming in tears. "When I met you, Rod, something miraculous happened. I felt that Barry suddenly had lost all his fascination for me. I don't know how to explain but you seemed to demolish him. Remember? I mentioned to you that you had saved me." Nola shuddered. "But I guess I was wrong. When he waylaid me in the drive-in, I let him take me once more. It gave me enormous physical relief. Now hate me."

She turned and started to open the door, but he pulled her back.

"Stay here, Nola. And get it out of your mind that I could hate you."

She turned and rested her face in the curve of his neck.

"No. Sit up, Nola. Let me tell you about you."

She stiffened, obediently raised her head.

"You're quite right," he said. "In my opinion, your case truly does parallel Melody's. Now, answer me truthfully... Are you a virgin?"

"Not exactly," she answered slowly. "Not technically-"

"What does that mean? That you never had an orgasm?"

"Yes." Nola's face was flaming. "That is, I never had one until Barry came along-"

"Why not? Anything wrong with you?"

"I should say not!" Nola flared. "I have all the natural desires and feelings, and in ample quantities. I enjoy being with men, and they enjoy being with me. But-"

"Yes?"

"You see, I was never promiscuous. I never went to bed with a man simply to cater to my own wicked feelings. There was always some other reason. For instance, after the senior prom at high school, a couple of the boys fed me drinks and then took advantage of me."

"Let's skip that," growled Rod.

"Then I felt sorry, one day, for a soldier about to leave for Vietnam. And just before I came here, there was another boy. In the hospital. Headed for sure death. I pitied him, and so I let him use me."

"Noble of you," snapped Rod. "But you didn't expect any fulfillment for yourself from episodes like those, did you?"

The tears welled up. "Don't be angry with me, Rod."

"Oh, I'm not. A psychiatrist is not allowed to be angered by what he hears." He took a deep breath. "Nola, it's even more obvious, now, that you've been in a state resembling Melody's. The adventurous new surroundings, your own long-denied passions, the animal magnetism Barry Norton seems to have-these combined to make you yield to him the first time. Besides, you had no choice. If you had not surrendered, he would have taken you anyway. But the big point is that your body responded nobly, as it should have. So, like Melody, you associated Barry with successful sex. After that, you could not help yielding to him again. Perfectly natural."

"Is it? Then how am I ever to be free of him?"

"By accepting the truth of what I'm going to tell you," Rod stated with professional firmness. "If you don't throw yourself away on cripples or out of pity, you'll find yourself responding as successfully to other men as you did to Barry Norton. And if you love one of those men, your response will be even more successful- much more so."

"Yes, doctor," Nola said solemnly. "And are you the man I love?"

Rod, although a trained psychiatrist, was so taken aback that for several moments he could not speak.

At last he managed to sputter, "What-what makes you ask that?"

"Are you forgetting that when I first saw you, you made me feel that Barry's power over me was broken? True, I had a relapse at the drive-in. But now, while I'm with you, that same feeling comes over me. You destroy Barry for me. You destroy all men for me!"

She seemed so wrought up that involuntarily Rod reached out and stroked her arm.

But touching her, he instantly realized, had been a mistake. The smooth skin, the pliant flesh, kindled a wild flame in him. Powerless to stop himself, he pulled her into his arms-a warm, vibrant woman, so sweet-smelling and soft and quiescent. The suppressed hungers of months and years burst free. His lips made a feast of hers, his hands clutched and probed.

Her surprised voice stopped him. "No!"

In stupefaction, he lifted his head and saw what he had done. Her thighs were bared almost to the waist, and one of his hands was still in place. He started to withdraw it, but she pushed it back. "It's all right, Rod. I don't really want you to stop. I just feel that this isn't exactly the best place... right in the bungalow driveway... "

But the spell had been broken. Rod released her, moved away from her. What, he asked himself, was he getting himself into? She was talking about love. But he feared to entrust himself to a woman. He feared the prospect of permanent alliance. He feared Nola herself. Suppose he did allow himself to fall in love with her? And suppose that then, maybe in one of her pitying moods, she gave herself to some soldier or some suffering boy-or to some beast like Barry Norton.

Rod sat at the wheel until he thought he could speak without his voice breaking.

"Well, I guess you'd better go in, Nola. And don't worry about Barry. My feeling is that you're cured of him."

"Oh, Rod. What's going to happen to us?"

He sighed. "Let's make a pact."

"Like what?"

"Let's agree to work together, play together, learn about each other-and see what happens. I think it's too soon for weighty commitments, don't you?"

She hesitated. "Logically, yes. Emotionally, no." Smiling, impulsively she moved closer and kissed him.

"I've already arranged about the office," he said. "They're redecorating it now. I'll let you know when we're ready for business."

"Good night." Her voice was a caress and a benediction. She got out of the truck.

Rod ate dinner in town, then let himself into his new quarters. The smell of fresh paint all but suffocated him; nevertheless, he remained at his newly acquired desk for hours-writing up Melody's case, and thinking, thinking...

Fahenstock was dark when at last he arrived there. Tangi was up, however, waiting to let him in.

"Can I get you something to eat? A drink?"

"Thanks, no, Tangi. I'm bushed."

"That's a shame," she said, eyeing him boldly.

Catching her meaning, he blushed. She smiled, then led the way up the stairs. There one dim light was burning, revealing to him the seductive roll of her lush bottom. There was a lot of Tangi, but all of it was of superb quality. She was wearing a nylon robe that hugged her with such mouth-watering exactitude that she could not have hidden a mole.

She opened his door, switched on the lights. It was then that her sultry beauty stabbed him fatally.

Her eyes were dark, her lashes long and sweeping. Her chiseled lips twitched with amusement as she viewed his expression.

"Yes, I am tempting, aren't I? And tempted, too," she said. "It's not often that a man so young and good-looking sleeps right here in this house-"

"My God! Are you always so direct, Tangi?"

She laughed. "I think I say things like that because I like to shock people."

Staring, he tried to swallow the thick lump in his throat. This girl was beauty itself, classic beauty. Why, then, was he not afraid of her? Where were the neurotic caution and dread that female loveliness usually loosed in him. The hot, flooding desire that had been awakened by Nola now was evoked irresistibly by the magnificent Tangi. She swayed closer to him and bathed him in the warm glow of her eyes.

"Sit down on the bed. You're tired, aren't you?"

He kicked off his shoes, climbed up on the high bed.

She joined him. "Lie back." He did as instructed, and deftly she undressed him. "Comfortable?"

"Never more so," he responded huskily. Tautly he sat up, his arm going around her.

Her creamy lips touched his briefly. Her stunning breasts, now exposed, kissed his chest. Then, above the thunder in his ears, he heard her melodious laughter.

"I wouldn't want to exhaust you," she said. "So just you stretch out. Lie there. I'll take care of everything."

And she did.

Rod's apparatus was already rigid with need but she devoted herself to it lovingly. Her palms fondled and stroked, her fingertips teased. "Oh, it's cute," she whispered, and kissed it. At the same time he was gorging himself on those marvelous breasts, filling his hands with them, hefting and testing them, ravenously tonguing the winking coral nipples. As the flames leaped in him, he started to roll her to her back, meaning to pounce on her.

She slid out of his grasp, pushed him down. "Tired man, let me do it. You won't even raise a sweat." She crossed one impossibly long and shapely leg over him, raised her whole delightful torso-and with a flick of her bottom came down on him, impaling her hot, moist cleft on his distended instrument of love. Squeezing it with her thighs to give maximum pleasure as well as receive it, she did a slow grind like a burlesque shipper. Rod yelped for joy. She did a bump or two. He groaned. Then she went into a slow oscillation like a belly dancer in a frenzy.

It was too much for Rod. Grasping her buttocks, he drove upward. She fell forward, kissing, her tongue slithering over his lips, as her pungent vulva lifted, lowered agonizingly, lifted, lowered...

Together they stiffened in a mighty burst of bliss, milks spurting, nerves shattering like glass, bodies racked by wave upon wave of sharpest rapture.