Chapter 2
HER BREASTS BEGAN TO PULSE WITH EXCITEMENT....
Joe's hand reached Jean's panties, at last. She gave an encouraging lift, spreading her thighs so he could have ample room to explore. Twinges of her desire brought a pleased smile to her lips.
She was twenty-five now, and more experienced. She liked Santa Barbara, with its even temperature, the waving palms along the streets, the Spanish influence on most of the buildings and houses.
The house near the beach was costing plenty, but she didn't care. It sat away from the other more common cabins. Sam, her father, was in the process of selling his sawmill. She had piles of money in the bank, and more would be coming.
She still had her apartment in Montana, but she was seldom home any more. She liked the larger cities, where hired studs were available. L.A. wasn't too distant. An agency there had sent Joe out that afternoon.
He scooted his chair closer, his hand becoming more initimate.
He wasn't bad looking; better than most of them. He had a casual air that suited her mood of playful dalliance. As had happened before, wondered what he did for a living-besides working as a male escort. He was deeply tanned, around thirty-eight. Maybe a lifeguard?
"Don't rush me, honey," she said. "Why don't you build us a drink apiece?"
"Hey, why not?" he said, taking his hand from under her skirt. His slacks fit very snugly; she could see his virile bulge. He had a fine build.
He stood up and went to the table that contained bottles and ice and mixers.
Joe was number nine. After her first experience in Reno, she had returned there for numbers two to five. Then, another trip home, she had made a contact in L.A. The agency there seemed to have more variety. The men were better looking and knew their bed manners.
"I've already been screwed by more men than some girls have in a lifetime, she thought.
She was making up for all the time she had lost in her teens and up until she was twenty-two.
The one before Joe she had kept around for several days. Then, after resting a week, she had made another call and had sent another certified check. It was on a bank in Santa Barbara; she didn't want to tap her funds in Troy. Bankers in small towns had suspicious minds. She had simply transferred a large amount to the California bank. People in resort cities didn't ask questions-the money was all that counted.
Joe returned to his chair, handed her a gin and tonic, as she had requested. He was drinking whiskey and water.
His eyes ran across her blouse. It was tight, and showed the lines of her breasts.
"They're better than my legs, honey," she said, winking.
He smiled. He had very white teeth. Perhaps he was a bartender. Several of her paid studs had admitted being in the whiskey business. She wondered if they were underpaid on their regular jobs. Or did they just naturally gravitate from liquor into bedrooms.
"Want me to open you up there and bring them out sugar?" he asked lightly.
"Yes, I like that."
"I thought maybe you did."
"Am I better or worse than your last date?"
"Hey, I don't know yet!" he said, smiling. "You're a hell of a lot younger."
His fingers worked the buttons of her blouse with the deftness of long practice. She decided to tease him.
"Are these older gals hard to please? Does it take them a long time to climax?"
"Sometimes," he said, testing the firmness of her breasts. The gin was helping her. He unhooked the front opener of her bra, slid his hand in on her bare charms. Her nipples tingled gratifyingly.
"Be more specific, honey," she urged. He chuckled. "You really want to know?"
"Of course."
He lifted her breasts out of her bra cups and exposed them. "Hey, these are nice! Very shapely."
She arched them forward. She was proud of those, at least. She performed special exercises to keep them pointy and firm. Joe had a good touch; her nipples were erect. Pleasurable thrills made her shiver.
"The last old gal wanted me to talk all the time," he said. "I had to pretend like I was coming before she got her jollies."
Jean laughed. "Did she have good titties'"
"Hell, no." His fingers were weaving a sensuous path over her breasts; they really jutted. She wished now she hadn't waited a week between men. She was turning hot rather more swiftly than usual.
In between her hired dates she used her mechanical aid; she had wised up since her Reno trips. She knew now where to buy them. Sometimes she found it more satisfying than a real live man. She tried to be honest with herself and her emotions. She was a sensualist. She had to have her thrills regularly.
"Feel under my dress again, honey," she said, getting rid of her empty glass. She laced her fingers in Joe's curly, dark hair. "Then you can kiss my titties."
He nodded. His hand coasted along her open thighs, and he obediently lowered his mouth to her breasts. She watched his lips enclose a tender nipple; she felt a tremor of excitement.
"Just play around a while, honey," she whispered. "But don't take my panties down, yet. I want a slow one...."
"Sure," he said.
She hitched her bottom into a more comfortable position. Her panties were very thin. There, that was better. He played with her heated thighs, then moved to her love-mound. Bubbly waves of need made her breathing quicken.
Her nipples were sharpening, and the stings of delight came sweetly, in little waves.
I don't need marriage, she thought, weaving her breasts. Not when I can buy my nooky. The girls back home ought to see me, now.
She let him continue for a few moments more. Every girl needed this.
The silence was broken by the chiming of the front door bell.
Jean muttered blackly. The waves of her rising delight commenced to fade. What fool could be at her door this time of day?
Joe's hand and mouth lifted as she moved out of the recliner. She refastened her bra and buttoned her blouse.
"Be right back," she said, leaving the enclosed patio. Angrily, she walked through the house, feeling the warmth Joe had aroused stealing slowly away. She jerked the front door open. Western Union....
She held her temper, signed for the message, closed the door and opened the envelope. Damned interruptions.
Surprisingly, the telegram was from her father.
HURRY HOME AM GETTING MARRIED SOON TO A WONDERFUL GIRL COLLEEN WINDSOR. LOVE SAM.
Jean stared at the message in disbelief. Her father was fifty-eight. Should he be marrying at his age?
Colleen Windsor. Jean knew her, all right. She was Troy's most often divorced widow, tall, dark and attractive. She couldn't be over thirty ... Her previous husbands had all been clipped for heavy alimony.
Jean cursed, sniffing danger. Colleen was a gold-digger; she was after Sam's money. The sale of the sawmill was about to go through, the payments to be spread over a five-year period to save on taxes. He was wealthy. And, if he married, Jean might not get all the inheritance money she had planned on. And without adequate funds she wouldn't be able to live as she had, nor hire male escorts for a hundred dollars a day....
She wadded the telegram in a ball and tossed it in a waste basket. She had to get home, all right. Soon!
She went to the phone and called the United office at the Santa Barbara airport. A flight was going north at four o'clock. None sooner. It was now one-thirty. Well, that would give her time enough. She didn't want to get on a hedge-hopping plane. Going by United she could be in Missoula by seven that evening. Then, an hour's drive to Troy. Maybe less.
And there was Joe, waiting for her to return. Well, she wasn't going to miss that. She would have to hurry things a little. She had already paid her hundred.
A few moments later they were on her bed, naked. She had had her hair done the day before, thankfully. She could enjoy herself for an hour at least. Then, some packing, buying a ticket. She wouldn't have her nap, afterward.
I've got to stop that marriage.
Joe leaned above her, sipping at her nipples. She reached down and held his manhood. He was large, beautifully erect.
She had planned several innovations before he sank his shaft into her, but she had explained the situation, and he took it agreeably. Perhaps he was relieved to have his assignment over so quickly. Some of the older women he serviced might be less demanding....
His hand slipped between her heavy thighs, and the tingles of need began to reawaken. Her nipples sharpened. Too bad she couldn't take Joe with her, but that would be far too expensive, and the people of Troy would really lift their cynical eyebrows. To them she was still big-bottomed Jean, always dateless ... probably destined to be an old maid.
Joe's finger located her clitoris, and she trembled. She spread wider, raising her hips. Forget Colleen now. She would have time for only part of the thrill she had anticipated. After a week, she was sure she could enjoy a real workout-and now the news had cut into her day, her pleasure.
Her breasts began to pulse with her excitement. Good. She braced her heels on the bed and squirmed her bottom, lifting against the pressure of Joe's hand. He drew a nipple far into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue.
Her joy quickened. She cozied his maleness, feeling his tremor of arousal. She glanced at her bedside clock.
Five minutes till two; still time to have a lot of sexy fun. A hundred dollars for one goaround was pretty high. But she would get all she could out of it. In Troy she would have to go without....
His fingers went excitingly along the crevice of her femininity. She moaned. Might be an added thrill, working against a deadline! Her clitoris was especially sensitive today. She was getting moist, ready.
She hoped he had good staying powers; some of them didn't. She wanted to go off at least three times. It might be weeks before she had a man in bed again!
"Climb on board, honey," she whispered. "And make it slow and easy...."
He angled his browned body between her thighs, and lowered carefully. She liked to watch a man go in. She had gone without it so many years, the sight still was thrilling, nerve-tingly. She had two pillows under her head, one under her hips.
She steered him to the door of her femininity. The heated touch of him made her shiver. Now, the sweet spreading, the voluptuous clasp of her membranes around him.
"Ohhhh!" she gasped.
He went deeper. He lowered his mouth to her breasts. She gripped him with her legs, curling her botttom into a more favorable position. Yes, she had learned a few things since that first time.
The real fun started. He stroked to the limit a few times and then held while she made her own thrusts. He was big enough to make things deliciously snug. In fact, he was very big. She paused, then, savoring the little sugary twinges that coasted through her body, centering in the depths of her pelvis.
She lowered until they were almost apart, then came upward in short Teachings, dallying with her need, swimming in the thrall of sensual enjoyment.
Every so often a healthy girl just had to have it, have it, have it. She didn't measure the cost, now. She panted and rotated her big bottom, as the suspense mounted, as the delightful quirtings quickened.
"You're good, baby," he muttered.
Well, they didn't often say that!
"Just stay where you are," she gasped.
He licked her nipples, poised on his hands and knees, letting her bob and wiggle to her heart's content. She had tried it on top a few times, but it didn't work so well-she was too thick through the pelvis.
She rested a moment, and then started once more. Up, up-pause-up, up, up! It was going to be real good!
The bed sighed, and the golden moments ticked away.
A quarter after two ... Still plenty of time left.
Finally, she couldn't hold it back any longer, and she stiffened, digging her fingers in his shoulders. He knew the signal. The sweet tumult began as she softened, and he started the long, deep plunges.
When I get back to Santa Barbara, I'll ask for Joe again!
"Come on, baby!" he breathed, around a rigid nipple. "Come to Daddy!"
The rapture came in hard little jerkings and tightenings.
"Ohhhhh-I'm going!" she shouted.
The delectable spasms shook her whole body, and she met the fury of his strokes It hadn't been this good for a long time!
"That's it!" he murmured. "Go hard!"
She did. The throb, throb, throb of her climax tore another cry from her throat. When she relaxed, at last, she knew he had waited-he would be there, big and hard, when she was ready again....
I hate to go home now, but I have to. Colleen is a money-grabbing little bitch.