Chapter 5
When Rush woke up, he was on the edge of the bed, a big and satin sheeted kingsize bed. There was only a light throb behind his eyes, nothing that could be called a real hangover. Still, his mouth was dry and he had to find a bathroom; so he eased out of bed and padded silently across the carpeted room to the John and used it. Then he had two glasses of cold water from the tap and felt fine.
Damn! He tried to remember what had happened after Jan crawled in bed with him, but couldn't. He'd been about knocked out of his skull when she helped him up the stairs, but he recalled asking her last name, and what she'd told him-Allison, Jan Allison.
He'd had one hell of a day with the Allison family, laying the mother in the game room and the daughter in the pool, and playing a few variations with both of them. Rush washed his face and hands, found a new toothbrush in its clear wrapping, used it, and felt still better. Thinking about screwing both the Allisons turned him on again.
Rush didn't know where his clothes were. The terrycloth robe was on a chair beside the bed, and some cigaretts on the night table. He got one going, and wondered about coffee, then about a mother and daughter that were so hot, so casual about sex that they evidently didn't give a damn if one knew about the other.
He drew in smoke and shook his head; he'd sure been missing a lot, but there was nothing to keep him from making it all up now.
When he reached for the robe, his hand paused in midair. There were two heads on the other pillows-one a tumbled mass of golden curls, the other was long and burnished copper, a bronzed cascade of hair he remembered. Jan and Lorna, in the same bed with him?
The coppery head was nearest. It turned to him, and her blue eyes opened lazily, slowly, to focus on him. "Hi, man," Jan said. "You're up early."
He motioned across her, to where her mother lay beneath the satin sheet, the small, tidy body outlined by the clinging material. Jan turned to look, came back to him and grinned.
"Yeah," she said, "it's Lorna; only not like you're thinking, baby. Not yet, anyhow, but I wouldn't be a bit surprised if it came off before breakfast. Hit the house phone button there, Rush-and you dig Bloody Marys, order three of them, okay?"
He found the phone and mumbled the order into it, then sat down on the side of the bed to finish his smoke, while Jan bounced bare-assed out of the sack and walked gracefully into the bathroom.
After the houseman brought a tray to the door, which Jan snaked out an arm for, Lorna woke up and took her turn in the John. It was all very casual, Rush thought, and sipped his eye opener, enjoying its crisp flavor and freshness. He eyed Lorna as she came back to the bed and reached for her drink. They were much alike, when seen together, Lorna and Jan; they were modelled along the same lines, small but trim and shapely, lithe and sensuous. Jan wasn't quite a younger edition of her mother, though-she had an individual way of moving, a personal look about her.
But there was an identical hungry, lascivious gleam in their eyes, and it drew him Rush felt a like a bug must feel, impaled on a researcher's pin, skewered through the middle and helpless, because he knew damned well he was going to do anything the girl and the woman wanted him to do.
There was a lot of time behind him, most of it wasted-time in the joint, time on the road, in the gym, in the ring itself; all the hermit time. Now Rush Scanlon had to make it up, live it up; no more being stupid.
"A lot of man, Lorna," Jan murmured. "A lot of stud. You have an eye for them"
Lorna smiled, her lips damply red. "And you have a letch for them. Well, dear-there's no better time, I suppose."
Lorna was on the opposite side of the bed, Jan on the edge with Rush. The girl slid to him, and the smooth curve of her thigh felt fine, all warm and sleek. She turned her face up to his, and her eyes said it plainly: do it to me, man.
Her mouth was sweet, fresh, young; her tongue darted into his lips, and his hands went involuntarily up to cup and fondle her shapely breasts, to thumb their rising tips and to know the satiny textured design of them.
Jan pulled at him, and he went down to the bed with her mouth locked to his, with her eager hands feeling over him, between his legs, on his cock, sliding up and down in his crotch.
Rush forgot that Lorna was watching avidly, forgot there was anything or anyone else in the world except this writhing, passionate girl with the humid pubic hair crisply against his palm, with the damp lips opening for his finger.
Her teeth raked his, and her tongue worked around inside his mouth while her breath blended gaspingly with his. He moved his finger into her clenching hotness, and was surprised again at the narrowness of her vagina, the tightness of it. Jan could screw forever and not loosen up.
They squirmed together on the satin sheet, moving around until they lay lengthwise on the bed, pressing tightly to each other, caressing and exploring. His rod throbbed, anxious to find that slot his finger was sliding in, eager to probe into that bronze hair and set into that hotly suctioning grip of her.
She rolled him over, so that he was in the middle of the bed, and her leg eased up on his hip. He felt her position his prick to her mound, knew the heat and dew of it, and then drove it home himself. It slipped into her, pushed into that tight, hot cleft and Jan wriggled to pull him deeper inside herself.
So narrow, so clinging; like silk and a pulling that held him firmly in her pulsing vagina. Good, she was, and hungry, grinding her pelvis like that on his, rolling her small, rounded haunches in his hands and flattening her tits to his chest.
He stroked her, thrust grindingly in and out of that marvelous box, and Jan met him stroke for stroke, kissing at his cheek, his throat, his collar bone.
Then he felt the other set of breasts against his back as he lay pumping upon his side; he felt the other warm belly tight to his rump, and the heat of another pussy on his skin. For a startled moment, Rush stopped screwing. He was held between them, knew the feel of four tits, of two mounds, and so many hands over him, on him, caressing and sliding. There were so many legs mixed up that they became a silken trap for him, but he never wanted to be free.
Jan moved on his meat, and he laid it up into her again, reveling in the sensation of the two women, in the abundance of warm and scented flesh, in the availability of so much tail. Slippery and tight, easy and strong, working into her and almost out, so that just the end of it stayed caught by her, then driving it firmly back home.
But she suddenly pulled away, snapped right off his cock, and he didn't know what the hell. Until she rolled him, pushed him the other way, and he turned over to come nicely against the rounded buttocks of Lorna Allison.
Lorna was ready for him, clutching with desperate eagerness at his cock, pulling it to her from between her thighs, pushing back against him and spreading her legs. She guided it to the place, and he rammed it to her from the back, grasping her sleek butt in his hands to drive it in solidly.
Lorna's slot was slightly different; it wasn't so virgin tight, but it wasn't loose, either. Hot and good, trained, hungry for his meat. He laid it into her, sliding one hand around over her squirming belly, down over her mound and finding the clit with one finger as his prick hunched in and out of her.
She moaned and began to ride him with a wild power that brought her swiftly to an orgasm; he felt her vagina tighten on him and hold it for a second, then let go and lubricate it with a juicy release that was hot and frothing.
Jan was against him from the back, rubbing her breasts into his shoulder blades, hunching against his rear, fondling his chest and belly. He didn't stay with Lorna then, but pulled out and turned over as Jan lifted her leg over him to take him into her eager cunt once more.
This time, he screwed her steadily until she came, and came again, gasping and clawing at him. He felt his own orgasm rising in him, and crammed the meat to her narrow slot, to that hotly clenching box lined with satins and silks and gobd-feeling liquids. He came, and her mouth latched to his to ride her tongue over his, to mix her panting breath with his in that ultimate fulfillment.
Lorna was against him from the rear again, her hands searching for and finding him where he was buried in Jan, and her lightly touching fingertips caressed them both as they lay quietly melting together.
It was as far out as Rush had ever been, and the whole thing kept him rigid, held him ready for more of the crazy mixup. He got to Lorna next, mounted her as she lay waiting upon her back with her hot bitch's eyes staring up into his, and her hot smooth thighs open for his entrance.
He pounded her good, stayed solidly with her in an almost vicious power as he got his second wind, and Lorna met him in a maddened response that turned him on stronger. But when she came, when he felt her constriction and release, he withdrew from her relaxed vagina and crawled over on top of Jan.
It was the damndest lay he'd ever had, the two of them spread like that for him, the pair of Allisons, mother and daughter, and he wished crazily that he was two men, so he could screw them both at the same time.
But he was only one man, and stirred so much by this weird newness that he could stay with them both for a long time. He did just that, on his second leg of the morning. Jan hit, and he pumped it hard to her until she came again and went limp beneath his driving body as her legs slid down off his sweaty back.
Rush pulled out of Jan and moved over to Lorna, who lay watching him. He fed it into her mound once more, and she met it with a wetted fury, with a lubricated violence that made him clench his hands roughly upon her heaving butt and try to screw her harder and meaner than she had ever been rammed before.
Loma made it, and ripped his back with her nails. He pinned her to the bounding mattress and stuck it to her deep and pounding, laid it to her until she kind of broke against his belly and turned softer, easier around his cock. Then he stepped up the pace and stiffened out from head to toe as he came, as he made it into her cunt and pooled his discharge with her creamy wetness.
"Man, man," Jan breathed in his ear, her soft hands going over his back, down over his flinching buttocks. "You are some far out stud. You are something else, Rush."
Suddenly tired then, he lifted from the woman sweat belly that rose and fell beneath him, took it out of Lorna and swung himself to the far side of the bed. He braced his bare feet on the thickly luxurious carpet and drew some deep breaths to settle himself. It had already been one hell of a day, and he hadn't even had breakfast yet.
The girl and the woman murmured things to each other, and while Lorna made the John again, Jan brought him a lighted cigarett, kissing him lightly on the mouth before giving it to him.
"Lover," she said, "we'll never let you go."
"Then you'll sure as hell have to feed me," he said.
She straightened up and grinned at him, totally unconcerned that she was naked. "Sure-rare steak and about three eggs over easy, hash browns and toast, juice and coffee. Sound okay?"
"Sounds perfect," he said. "Do I have time to shower? And Jan-I lost my clothes down by the pool last night. Maybe you can find them for me?"
She gave him another bright smile and covered herself with a white terrycloth robe before leaving the room. Loma came from the bathroom and he saw she had a matching robe; the pure whiteness of it set off her golden skin and the witchery of her eyes, the bruised ripeness of her lush small mouth.
"Well, Rush Scanlon?"
"Just call me lucky," he said.
"No scruples, no timidity?"
He shook his head. "Not any more. Anything you say, anything Jan wants."
"We'll hold you to that," she said. "Move in today; I can send a driver for your things, if you'll j tell me where-"
He laughed and stood up. Her eyes clung to his chest, slid approvingly over his hard, flat belly. He said, "Wait a minute, Lorna. It's a great idea, a fine idea. But I have a couple of things to do first. If Jan feeds me that big breakfast she promised, I'll do what I have to and come back soon as I can."
Lorna lifted a burnished eyebrow. "Lei Ng?"
He shrugged. "I have to tell her a thing or two! and pick up my suitcase."
He didn't mention the bar, the mast behind it, and the stuff that was still hidden inside it. That was for Rush Scanlon's annuity, and he didn't think there be any problem getting to it now. It was there for him, any time he wanted to collect it.
"You're not curious about Lei?" Lorna asked.
He shrugged again, sensing something but not knowing quite what. "She's a good kid, and a lot I of fun."
Lorna smiled and came close to him. "She's all of that. She's-cooperative, too. She left here about dawn, with a good looking man from San Francisco. He has a thing to do with liquor licenses, and a thing for Oriental girls."
Rush felt a twinge of jealousy. He kissed Lorna and then moved easily past her and into the I shower. "See you downstairs, baby."
He felt big as any heavyweight as he scrubbed and rinsed himself in the marble stall with the cold water cleaning his hide and making him draw up his belly muscles. It wouldn't take too long for a guy to get soft, at this kind of work, he thought-then laughed aloud around a mouthful of bubbles. What damned difference did it make?
Rush stepped from the shower and towelled vigorously, pinking his skin and skipping lightly on his toes in a pattern set into his reflexes by skipping rope. Then he came flat footed and grunted; no need for that, either. Except, if he was going to hold up under all this screwing, he'd better be in some kind of shape for it.
He thought of Lei Ng as he put on his robe and went down to the big kitchen for breakfast, and wondered why.
He ate hugely, and relaxed in the informal, kidding atmosphere. They were alone in the kitchen, just Rush and the two Allisons; it seemed the rest of the party had cleared out, or hadn't awakened yet. It was nice, being part of a family, even if the family itself was a bit weird.
Or was it his thinking? Had he locked himself too tightly into a square, moralistic outlook? It didn't really make any difference who screwed whom, or what kind of sharing went on, so long as nobody pushed anyone else around. And with the Allisons, nobody was pushing, nobody was bitching, so who the hell was Rush Scanlon to put them down for sharing a guy-especially since the guy was him?
His shirt and pants had been pressed, and he put them on after breakfast. Lorna told him to take any sports car in the garage, and he kissed her lightly before leaving for downtown; then he kissed Jan, and grinned at his hesitation, at the old hangups that were so difficult to kick.
In the garage, Rush stopped and looked around. The place looked like a big parking lot; there was a Rolls, a Bentley, a Ferrari, a Jag-Cad and Continental and a gang of small cars. Numbed, Rush picked an MG near the front doors and keyed the ignition. The engine purred softly, beautifully, but with the hint of latent power.
He drove the red MG out of the garage and along the winding drive, out through the big gates and onto the roadway that led in a few minutes to another set of gates where a uniformed deputy waved him through.
It was nice to be filthy rich, Rush thought, then laughed into the wind and tooled the bright little car along the ocean drive, taking the long way into the city.
He went to his room and took his clothes; not much to carry, but his personal effects helped fill the suitcase. He put that in the car and drove over to Lei's.
She wasn't home, and he was halfway glad about that. He hadn't wanted to walk in on her and the new boyfriend. Okay, so it was business between her and the guy. That didn't make Rush feel any better about it.
He pointed the little red car toward the wharf area, thinking sauce for the goose and all that jazz. He didn't have a damned thing to offer a girl; no career, no big money future, nothing. Except maybe that two hundred big ones, if he could pick it up and turn the stuff quickly and smoothly, with no problems.
That much stuff could sprout problems in a hurry, and he realized that. But he'd be cool and careful about it, play it slow and easy, so nobody would get hurt-especially Rush Scanlon.
Parking the MG in the city lot, he walked along the seawall to the wharf and turned in. The Shipwreck was open, and had already picked up a few passing tourists. Rush sat at the bar and ordered a beer. The barkeep's ugly face was familiar.
"Lei been in?" he asked the man.
The barkeep grunted and moved away to fill an order at the other end of the bar. When he came back by, Rush asked him again, politely.
"No," the man said.
Rush decided against trouble, finished his beer and left. The ship mast was still there, undisturbed.