Chapter 2
Dora's flat - he knew her name before they got there - was in a smart mews still within the Chelsea area. It bespoke some modest luxury as she flicked on a couple of wall lights in the sitting room: carpets, rugs in warm colors, modern curtains, modern furniture and a big French window looking out onto the street.
"Nice place you have," he said appreciatively. It was certainly a contrast to his rather base bed-sitter with a gas ring on the floor for which he was charged an exorbitant rent.
"Yes, I've had it for quite some time - that's the secret."
She took off her jacket and flung it across a chair, motioning him to do likewise and now he really had an eyeful of her pinup-girl bosom. He felt a slight turbulence in his chest. Big, sharp breasts flowering out like a mushroom over a very slim waist always twisted him up inside.
She looked as if she knew the effect she was having and then she came over and placed her hands on his shoulders, half closing her eyes at him as she felt the muscles under the thin shirt.
"Would you like some whiskey?" she asked. He felt her hips move in at his in a comforting, exciting pressure as she leaned back, looking at him.
"I've had enough tonight," he said. "I've been drinking all week."
"I hope it hasn't made you impotent," she murmured.
The pressure of her hips had increased into the pressure of thighs, nearly the whole length of her legs a warm pressure. Her hands slid up to his face and then around his neck. The smooth, white skin came closer, the long upper lip pouting at him, that perfume he still couldn't place and the bright blue eyes, bright er and pinpointed like a drug addict's. The lips on his were warm and giving and the wet tongue that moved into his mouth seemed to want to reach the fingers that dug his neck. Through his shirt he felt the hard points of her nipples as the breasts flattened slightly, cushioning him with their warm support.
He moved his hands down to her bottom which had first pouted at him over the bar-stool and now it was in his hands, each separate buttock, large and tensed, now contained in a palm and being pushed in toward him. His desire had caught in his chest as he crushed her against him and she was breathing heavily into his mouth, squirming her hips against him, trying to catch the bulge at his loins between her thighs.
She moved her head back after a minute or two. Her eyes were almost completely closed and her mouth remained open. He bent and kissed her neck, sucking in the skin so that an angry red mark appeared on its whiteness. She gasped and pulled his head at her breasts.
"The bedroom's over here," she choked and pulled away from him to a door on their right.
He followed her in and caught her from behind as she switched on the light. He squeezed her breasts and kissed her neck again. She brushed her buttocks around his loins, pressing back at him, leaning back her head, eyes closed.
Without changing position she began unbuttoning the skirt down the side and let it fall to the ground. Underneath she had white silk panties and now he could feel the full outline of her bottom through his trousers. She pulled his hands away from the globes they were caressing and unbuttoned the blouse. He held her with one hand around her waist while he unclipped the brassiere. It fell away from her back and she slipped out of it after slithering from the blouse.
The bulge at his pants was big and hot. He needed something to sink it into desperately and now her hand moved around behind her, searched for it, found it and began to fondle.
His breathing was like an exhausted rugger player's as he clasped her naked breasts. He could see them over her shoulder. Regal, soaring orbs, crowned with their brownish jewels. They were elastic, exciting to his touch.
He let his hands wander down from them, pressing his hips at her all the time, wriggling at the touch of her probing fingers at his fly. Down over the taut ribs which whittled away from her breasts, down over the soft, slightly plump line of the belly and under the rim of her panties, over the girdle to rest at last on the soft down of her loins, thickening to a wasteland of curly hair at the undercurving between her legs.
She swiveled on the balls of her feet, panting, and her fingers began to pull urgently at his buttons. His stomach heaved. This was the moment he relished. The buttons sprang out of the button holes under her deft, feverish touch and in a moment they were undone from the belt to the crotch and her fingers were weaving inside, finding the opening in his pants and pulling the long, hot spear of hard flesh through it.
The breath swooned up deeply from his throat as her fingers touched his penis with cool, foreign tenderness. He began to edge her toward the bed, and, still without opening her eyes, she swayed before him toward it and collapsed on it.
Quickly he pulled off his trousers and then his shorts. She lay face down, her sides heaving as if in a faint while he slipped frantically out of his shoes, socks and shirt.
His foreskin had slipped back and the head was a bright red. It was burning and dry, demanding some moist relief.
She lay where she'd flopped as if unable to move and he knelt over her and started to peel her panties off her behind. He was all churned up inside and as the big, round mounds of flesh flipped into view he felt like raping her sadistically. He pulled the panties down her thighs which were split with a light down like a stocking seam, joining the seam, in fact, where the stocking started halfway down the thigh. He pulled them over her long, shapely calves and off her feet. He couldn't wait to take off the girdle and the stockings. They added to his desire as he looked down on her otherwise naked back.
He flopped down on her, body burning all over and she came to life, squirming under him and whimpering almost inaudibly.
For a few seconds he ground his hips around on the large dumpling of her bottom, pressing flesh against flesh in a passion-heat. He kissed her neck and bit it so that she gave a little scream and pulled his head harder at her, reaching backwards in a contortion.
And then he slipped down her, kissing shoulders, back, buttocks, thighs. He drew her thighs apart gently with his hands and then put his hands under her waist to pull her up onto her knees. He was lying with his head practically between her thighs and his eyes were on a level with the red folds of flesh from which a little moisture was glistening and slipping down the soft insides of her thighs.
He raised his head, placed his lips against the moist covering of her cavity and then pushed his tongue firmly between the creases. She was practically odorless - just a slight salty taste and smell - and he moved his tongue around in her vagina.
The breath had shot out of her in a gasp, swallowed in the pillow surrounding her head. At first she had jerked away, but immediately had rammed her hips back so that his nose was against her buttocks and the hole was opened wide to him. She was almost crying in her passion.
His searching tongue found the hard, little clitoris and licked it. He worked his lips closer and began to suck it while her buttocks seemed to sway around him like a moving sea.
"Oh, oh, oh oh!" He could hear her exclaiming into the pillow as her stomach hollowed and hollowed.
She became moister and moister and a thin swirl of fluid dripped from his penis onto the bed cover. He felt as if he were on fire, the hottest point being where his penis disappeared into his body and was swallowed in the internal fury of passion.
She moved her head on the pillow and her thighs quivered as if from cold.
"Now, put it in. Now!" she gasped at last.
His chest seemed frozen with the anticipation which had been building, building inside and he slithered up onto his knees, wriggling his hips in between her thighs, moving in behind her.
Now he was above the full hips and behind and could let his eyes feast on the way they curved sharply into the slim waist and how the waist sloped out gently to the shoulders.
On either side of his hips her thighs and calves, tightly clad in the silk stocking's, enclosed him.
Her calves swung up, playfully almost, to press across his buttocks, impelling him forward into her.
Between her unprotected vagina and his long, probing organ was a space of an inch. He spread her buttocks, so that he could see his target more clearly - he could also see the darker pucker of the anus. And then he moved his knees in as far as they would go, prodded with the head of his sex and thrust inexorably into her, surging in like a breaker between the junction of her thighs, feeling the soothing warmth and wetness inundating and enclosing his penis.
"Oh, oh, oh, oh!" she exclaimed again, the sounds coming to him, muffled and indistinct, from the pillow.
Her pale face, sometimes presenting him with its profile, sometimes lost under the flood of red hair as she moved her head, was flushed rose. She began to rotate her hips, pressing them back at him, wriggling her knees out and pulling them under her to push her passage further back at him.
He put his hands on her waist as he drove in and he felt the moisture in the corners of his mouth, the dryness around his tongue and on the roof of his mouth. His penis was sweet agony, pulling his mouth open, forcing the breath up from his lungs. Against his hips the soft skin of her white buttocks brushed and oozed. Around him he could feel the coarser texture of the stockings as she squeezed him.
She was gasping uncontrollably. He looked down, his eyes narrow and racked with sensuality. ' Another two inches. He leaned on her waist, digging his fingers into the firm flesh, holding her as if he possessed the whole of her there in his hands.
With a twist of his hips he rammed the last length excruciatingly into her. She gave a little scream and her behind-arch gave way and, falling with her, still in her, he almost slipped out. But with a furious and powerful jerk she had pushed herself up again, with him on top, into her former position.
He thrust right into her so that on the in-thrust his penis disappeared completely and his hips met her buttocks, his testicles swinging under her as if they were attached to her crotch.
She pushed her hands from the side of her head under her body and down to where the pendulums swung. She caught and caressed them with her fingertips, drawing sharp spasms of sensation from his bowels. Her hot face was flushed almost the same color as her lips and the long, soft mane of hair seemed to reflect rose tints in the blue of her eyes. Her whole body was given over to the delight she was experiencing, given over to him and their mutual ecstasy, a complete instrument of passion.
With every forward thrust now, his penis which filled her passage to bursting point, almost flung her forward over the head of the bed. It seemed to her that a bull was possessing her. She spread her legs to their utmost to draw him as deep as possible, reveling in the mingled pain and delight.
With his hands squeezing all over her buttocks, fingers digging at her anus, clasping her hips and pulling her back onto his rod, he swept and rammed into her with growing abandon. He could hardly think now. Her body was a maze of beautiful, tender flesh. However much he smashed his hot weapon into her belly he was met only with a groan which seemed to come to him from a distance. She would take all he could give her. He thrust and thrust savagely, a film of sadism veiling his mind, feeling free to mutilate as he liked this strange body that he had never seen before tonight, this body which was squirming and writhing now with its bottom jutting nakedly up under his eyes.
Her breath had become one long, continuous groan which droned vaguely in his ears as he jerked his loins at her, flexing them like the last flick of a throwing wrist as his staff disappeared.
All of a sudden the groan became a husky whine and her loins seemed to ripple in long waves. His penis seemed suddenly to be liberated and a surf of moisture broke over it as she exploded to her climax.
Her hands came back, reaching behind him, pulling his buttocks at her as she knelt on knees and face, begging him with a gesture to flood her now with his load.
The passage had become tighter again and his penis seemed to be itching along its length, itching and expanding in an agony which couldn't last He stabbed and stabbed rushing to be free of the itch, the agony. He felt the reservoir inside him break its dam and come sweeping in sharp, thin sensation through the inner tubes, felt his outer sensation through the inner tubes, felt his outer protrusion grow suddenly taut and searching, elongated to its utmost, rammed in as if he would split her body in two, force his way into the cervix and the stomach. His mouth opened in complete lack of control, the breath burst from him a great "Aaaaaaah" as at another opening the sperm burst in an echo and inundated her channel with its thick, mucous liquid.
As he strained into her, she pleaded: -
"Come darling, come darling come," as if in a renewal of her own passion.
He collapsed onto her at last, making a layer of flesh around her flesh, slimmer, more muscular, browner and longer than hers and they flopped in that position for nearly a minute, breathing fast, unable to move.
Eventually her thighs stirred under him and he rolled off her and stretched on his back on the bed. She let herself deflate slowly onto her stomach and then turned on her side, leaning on an elbow and looked at him.
"That's the first time for a long time," she said softly, contentedly, tracing the line of his chest with her fingers.
"Really? How so?" he said, disbelievingly. He still found her attractive in spite of his exhaustion and she was so easygoing, almost phlegmatic, that he decided he rather liked her as well.
"Oh, it's a long story," she said.
"We have all night," he said.
"Not all of it - in fact we're not likely to spend much of it talking. I have a lot of appetite to assuage."
He grinned. "Looks as if I've found a job at last," he said.
"Keep your cheek to yourself," she grinned back. "And have a whiskey now, if you like, while I go and get rid of the child."
She slipped off the bed and he felt the quick return of desire as he watched her walk unselfconsciously across the room. She looked elegant even out of her clothes and the pouting of those large buttocks as they protruded with each step gave him a strong dose of blood pressure. The red hair, he noticed for the first time, heightened the snowy texture of her skin - and then she had opened a door and passed out of sight. A minute later he heard the swoosh of a shower. All the modern conveniences, he thought and again compared her place with the austerity of his in some surprise. His curiosity about her began to increase. He would put her as a woman of the world, he thought, probably without much education and upbringing, who had, however, seen necessary to improve herself and done so rather haphazardly, beginning, and maybe ending, with an emphasis on voice production and a studied ease of manner which had eventually become natural.
He swung off the bed, arranged his clothes more neatly on a chair, poured himself, after a moment's doubt, a fair-sized whiskey and then looked at himself in the full-length mirror on a cupboard door.
There he was, long, lean and muscular, just like men were supposed to be in women's magazines. Most women found him handsome, he knew, but his face was hardly in the same magazine category. His nose was, perhaps a little too pronounced and his chin too long, his black hair, too, was receding further from his broad forehead every six months. Apart from that, his sensitive, daredevil mouth and his twinkling gray eyes with their black, bushy brows made up for the defects. They'd wanted him to stay in the RAF, with hints of quick promotion, but after the zip of the war he'd had no particular sympathy with the services. He had found his companions reliable and fun in the days when any day might be the last and one needed friends to stand by, but afterwards they'd seemed, on the whole, a little too narrow and unintelligent to be good company. So what? he thought. I'm here. And what about tomorrow?
She came back from the bathroom, wearing a silk dressing gown which left most of one breast in view with its careless wrap. She looked at him appraisingly, the way he'd looked at her in the bar and said: "You ought to be able to get a job in films showing off that torso."
He went over to her, smiling, kissed her lips and then the breast that he could see. She clasped him against her bosom, smiling and ran her hands over his shoulders as if she really loved the feel of their long, hard muscle.
"If you want something to eat there's all sorts of stuff in the refrigerator," she said.
"Oh, I have just enough to eat on for a few more days," he replied.
"Only a few more?" she asked. "Is that right?"
"Afraid so," he said. "After that I was heading for the Embankment to sit down on the pavement with a cap in front of me."
"Poor sweet," she said. "Well, I hope you're not out to make an honest penny because if you are there's not much I can do for you."
He raised an eyebrow, pretending that his surprise was only mock surprise.
"Well, I sometimes haven't paid my bus fare," he said. "And I had an aunt who was once pinched for an unaccountable incident of shoplifting which everyone put down to change of life. Apart from that. . . ."
"Well, this is a little bit more involved," she interrupted, "but, from some points of view it's not a terribly serious crime. But, now I come to think of it, perhaps we'd better wait a day or two while I get to know you better."
"A day or two!" he cried. "I want a job immediately. And if it doesn't involve murder, rape, arson or armed assault I'll give it serious consideration."
"Oh no, it's much, much less violent than any of those. But there's no hurry. You can stay here for a day or two and I'll find out what the position is."
"It all sounds very mysterious."
He was guarded as regards the prospects of the job, but her invitation to stay boosted his morale several degrees. What luck when he was so down in the dumps! A smart, modern, comfortable place to stay, with an attractive girl to look to his needs.
She poured herself a whiskey.
"You will stay, won't you?"
"It's very sweet of you," he said. "Are you sure you want me to?"
In answer she ran her hands down his chest and gently stroked his penis. "I've never been surer," she said.
His penis had begun to thicken without coming completely erect. He was ready for another session, but first he asked: "How is it you've been lonesome? You were about to tell me."
"Oh that." She sounded as if she was going to dismiss the matter, but instead, she swigged back her whiskey.
"It isn't very interesting really. Simply that I used to be the girl friend of the man you may be seeing about a job."
She stopped and looked at her glass, thinking of something. She put the glass down and walked over to the bed. She stretched out on it. Her breasts, twin cones pointing at the ceiling, the dressing gown falling back from one bent leg revealing calf and thigh vamp-fashion but without the intention.
"He's a tough boy in his way - very tough. When I got to know him I was a model. He had money and a certain verve and I was crazy about him in a stupid way. I could see he was no good, but nonetheless I fell for him - he represented a life of fun and luxury. His money was coming illegally - he was running a few rackets. This I knew, but I didn't know that he was going to treat me like dirt, that there were many other women, that he'd knock me around, that he'd involve me in his 'business.'
"Even so I put up with that, hating myself for putting up with it but unable to break from the spell he seemed to have cast over me.
"At least until about four months ago. That was just after Slim Bailey died - he was the financial brains behind the rackets. Francie - that's the man I'm talking about - was the Hitler. Well, Slim has a beautiful daughter, a nice girl, you know, and he'd been trying to do the best for her since her mother had died some years before. He tried to keep her clear of the gang and sent her to a private school and then a girl's college. He always thought there was something higher than just grubbing along in rackets for money.
"Well, that was all well until Slim died, but then the girl didn't have any money so Francie stepped in. I don't know where he'd seen her before. By telling her about her father and threatening to spill the beans he got her away from her college and tried to set her up as his mistress. That was when he got rid of me. Not that he wasn't generous." She waved her hand around the flat.
"Well, I gather he didn't succeed too well, but eventually with her general depression, need for money, fear for her dead father's name and everything, the poor girl gave way."
She looked over at him. He'd been standing watching her engrossed in the story.
"You're the best audience I ever had," she chuckled. "Anyway, I was pretty cut up - although deep down I knew it was the best thing and all that sort of stuff. So I've been sitting around recovering and not having anything to do with men until tonight when I saw you sitting, looking unhappy in that bar, I knew I'd recovered completely."
"Well, well." He came over and lay on the bed beside her. "I think it might be interesting to meet this group. After all, I have literary ambitions and it's all grist to the mill."
"Right now I want you to have other ambitions," she said softly.
"Oh, I have ambitions in all directions," he said with a grin.
She pulled his head down on hers, crushing his lips on her open mouth. He pulled the belt of her dressing gown undone and slipped his hand inside. The nipples were hard and the mounds of flesh seemed to strain up like cats being stroked. He bent over and kissed them, taking the nipples in his mouth and sucking them gently until he heard her gasp and felt her fingers come down and begin to massage his now stiff pike. His hips jerked automatically in towards her and she opened her legs and began to pull him to her.
"Don't bother about the preliminaries," she whispered. "We have all night."