Chapter 10
Sandra sat as though she were made of wood, hearing Hester's muffled curse and then her footsteps crossing the office. The knob rattled.
"Oh! It's you!"
"Yes, it's me. One of your girls told me I might find Miss Albright in the office."
The voice was familiar. Sandra managed to turn her head to see Tony Gibbs crossing the room with long steps, coming to her. He stopped before her, half-bowing in a courtly fashion.
"Miss Albright, yours is the last name on my card. May I have the pleasure of this dance?"
Sandra worked her lips, trying to speak, waves of nausea washing over her. She might have toppled from the chair if he hadn't gripped her shoulders.
"What is it?" he demanded. He looked toward Hester. "What the hell's been going on here, you filthy . . ! "
"Get out!" Hester shot back. "Take her with you, if you like, but get out. She's nothing, anyway. Just a helpless, quivering, powerless piece of flesh." Her face was ruddy with frustration and beads of sweat dotted her forehead.
He helped Sandra to her feet, leading her toward the door, while Hester stood, gripping the back of a chair, panting as though she had climbed the steep slope of a mountain. She said nothing as they went through the door, but it slammed behind them with a thunderous crash.
They stood on the porch for a few minutes, and Sandra felt her strength returning. Her stomach was settling down, and at last she no longer feared she would vomit.
He was holding her with one hand in the center of her back. With the other he dabbed at her face with his handkerchief, first moistening it at the porch drinking fountain. He made her take a drink of water and then she felt better when she straightened.
"Thank God!" she breathed, looking into his face. He was more deeply tanned than she remembered and his body looked harder under his light summer suit. His hair was black against the night. "How did you know?"
"As I said, you were the only counselor I hadn't asked to dance." His voice was low, husky with power and authority. "I found two of your girls, one of whom had left you just a short while before with St. Claire. She seemed concerned. The other gin-a snappy peroxide blonde-confirmed what I'd already heard about that queer duck in there." He nodded at the office door. "She also told me how you'd been holding her off all summer. I'm sorry I was rude the first time we met. You see, I assumed you were one of her stable."
Sandra sighed, loving being so close to him, pinching herself as she realized that he'd remembered her after all. "I've been walking a tightrope, protecting my girls with one hand, trying to keep her off me with the other."
He nodded. "You're a brave woman, but I think you'd better move around a bit so you can snap out of St. Claire's trance. What do you say-may I have that dance?"
Something seemed to melt and give way in her' breast and she smiled into his dark eyes, loving the way the shadows played across his high forehead. "I'd love it," she whispered...
She floated, her feet scarcely touching the floor, her head tucked between his neck and shoulder. On they danced, again and again, and from time to time she opened her eyes to see others smiling at them with approving warmth. "How are you now?"
His voice came to her out of a dream, and she snapped alert, her eyes popping open, her fingers pressing more firmly against his shoulder. "Wonderful!"
"I was afraid I might never see you again." His voice was muffled in her hair, and she could feel his breath whisper across her head.
She laughed. "I don't believe you."
"It's true. A half mile can be a thousand miles when they keep us so busy." He held her away a moment, looking into her eyes, and she felt herself drowning all over again. "We met under such grotesque circumstances, and I behaved so badly toward you. I was afraid to call for fear you'd slap my face as you threatened."
She stared. "You remember all that?"
"Of course!" He pulled her close again, and their feet moved in perfect harmony. "I remember the instant you walked into my office. I also thought I detected something in your glance that night."
She nodded against his shoulder. "You should have. I felt when I saw you as though I'd slipped my finger into a wall socket."
He laughed deeply and she felt his chest move against her. That triggered something and she knew he was conscious of it, too. She was aware of their bodies-his and hers.
At the places where they touched she felt a slowly growing heat. Her fingers tingled against his back, her temple was warm against his cheek, her breasts seemed hot and hard against his chest and their hips moved together in a slow, grinding rhythm.
"Tony, I..."
"Yes?"
The music was slow and sultry and, in the final hour, the lights had been dimmed so that the shadows were deep. "It's been too long since I've ... been close to a man this way."
"Too long for me, too."
They danced on and, helplessly, she felt her heat increasing. An itching began in her loins, spreading slowly, shooting out into other parts of her body and once she stumbled against him. He caught her expertly.
"I can't hear the beat any more."
"It's not a very good orchestra."
"No, it's not that." She let her face turn against his cheek so her nose and lips were tucked under his ear. "My knees. They don't want to support my body."
"You're not tired?"
"Of course not. I'm walking on air, but something's going wrong inside me. I'm not certain ... It's never happened like this before." Her lips pursed and she kissed him on the side of the neck. His fingers pressed into the small of her back. "Oh, Tony!"
"Be careful, my darling," he whispered. "We're in the center of the dance floor."
"Then for heaven's sake get me away from here," she begged, her body stiffening against his. "I can't be this close to you any longer. I'll make a fool of myself right here in front of everybody."
He guided her slowly away from the pattern of dancers, toward a side entrance. After a quick glance about them, he released her and opened the door, urging her through ahead of him.
Once outside, she took several deep breaths and then, with hands linked, they walked across the clearing. It was a dark night now, clouds covering the moon and no one, she was certain, would know about them.
They found themselves inside the line of trees and tents and, without thinking, she led him to her tent. She stopped outside and sat down on the step and he sat at her side.
"Tony ... Tony, what is it?"
He put his arm around her shoulders and her head fell against his. "It's like the electrical attraction between two poles," he murmured, "drawing opposites together with a force no man has ever really understood."
She lifted her head and looked at him. "Or is it as I said before-too long since we've been out with a man or a woman. Is that it? Are we simply hungry, starved for the touch of another human being?"
He chuckled. "If we are, it's the most wonderful meal I've ever enjoyed." He put his hand to her chin, turning her face toward him. "But it's more than that. You know it, and I know it. We knew it that first night we met, and neither of us was starved for affection then."
"You're right."
"Sandra, I wonder if I..."
"Yes, you may, Tony. I'll scratch your eyes out if you don't. Kiss me, darling!"
He did, his lips gentle over hers, not forcing, not hungry as Bobby's had always been, but cool and easy. He kept them over her mouth for a long time, and her eyes were closed. Presently, his lips parted, and she felt the tip of his tongue move, tickling the rim of her lips, making the complete circle.
Surprising even herself, she tore her mouth away, drawing her head back, searching his face for some clue. "Tony! This is all new! I've never felt like this before. Please tell me what it is?"
He studied her, his fingers digging into her shoulders. "You've never...? "
"Never!"
"Never been ... with a man?"
"No!" She sighed, her breath seeming to tear at her throat, and the fire spread up from her stomach. Her legs wouldn't be still, the knees always moving, always moving..."I want you to show me, to make it beautiful. Can you?"
Again he kissed her, this time with more force. She twisted her body, hurling her arms around his neck, and her mouth opened wide. His tongue darted in, finding every sensitive spot, almost choking her with its powerful probing.
He freed his arms and pulled hers from his neck so he could look about. "I don't know this camp
"Come!" She reached for his hand, pulling him with her. She turned and opened the door to the tent, her poised hand ordering him to wait quietly.
She went inside, where it was almost pitch black. Slowly, she felt her way around the familiar room, touching each bunk, making certain it was empty. Good girls. All of them were staying with the party to the very end.
She returned to the door and opened it so he could slip inside. He stood by her side and she twisted to hook the latch so they would not be surprised. At that instant, she felt his hand press under her arm, across her ribs and fasten itself full on her right breast.
She started, her eyes wide in the night. His other hand came up from her other side and clasped her left breast.
"Oh, Tony...! "
She let her head fall back against his chin and, again, she feared her knees would give way. His fingers pressed in unison, pumping against the softness of her breasts, and she felt the already swollen mounds burgeon still more tightly against the blue satin.
The hands went to her shoulders, flicked at the thin straps, dropped them over each arm. Then the hands were sliding down her throat and Sandra did not remember the sickening sensation when Hester had performed the same maneuver. This was a different place and a different night, her senses assured her body.
The hands went under her neckline, forcing the satin down, shoving the strapless brassiere with it, until he was able to push his way to the ends of her breasts. He caressed the nipples, and they, too, joined the other parts of her breasts in swelling and hardening, their tips poking into his palms like eager puppies seeking further caresses.
"My God, Tony!" Her words came in broken sobs. "Please, my sweet, don't play with me like this. It's beautiful, but it's torture!"
"Yes, darling," he whispered against the back of her neck, the touch of his lips making her skin quiver as though a current were passing through it.
He turned her around and, feeling his way in the darkness, found hidden fasteners and opened the dress, working it carefully from her body. Her underclothing slid off with it, and she helped him strip away her stockings and shoes.
She waited, her body rigid, her breasts rising and falling so tremulously she feared her lungs would burst. Her skin was hot to the touch, and she wondered if she actually had a fever. She heard the rustle of his clothing, and then he was back, his hand in hers.
"You lead the way."
She did, taking him the few steps to her bunk, praying no one would walk in on them. She pulled her bed open and sat down, her knees together, waiting. "I want it to be perfect, my Tony."
"It will be, darling. Trust me."
It was, indeed, Sandra's very first time. Perhaps she would have done it somewhere, sometime, before-but circumstances had always conspired against the event. She was, truly, a virgin, possessing all a virgin's hopes and dreams and fears. But she was also with the man she loved, and she knew that it would be all right.
She felt herself being urged to lie back, and she did so, until her head sank into the pillow. Then hands were on her face, her throat, her breasts, her stomach...
"Yes! Yes...! "
On they moved to her legs, up her thighs, around her hips, digging into the generous softness of her buttocks and then, at last, into the heart of her.
She felt herself stiffen, and her heels dug into the bed to swing her body up in an arc to meet his caresses. At the same time she felt a rhythm starting in her, a rhythm much like their motions on the dance floor and she realized why she had become so upset when they moved as one to the music.
"Please...! "
She felt the weight of him forcing her back, and her fists beat helplessly into the pillow on either side of her head. Then he was taking the pillow from her, lifting her hips and sliding it under them. She felt her body frozen in the natural arc, yet she knew it was right. Her man was truly an expert in the art of love.
In the blackness of the tent they came together, as one, inseparable. She helping where she could, but Tony led most of the way.
It hurt, and he waited until she tugged at him and then worked again until it hurt. Again and again he pressed, always gentle, always patient, always easing until her pain subsided.
You're going, Sandra, her whirling brain told her. This is the night-the very instant-you cease to be a girl and are transformed into a woman. You'll always remember this night. It's the grandest thing in your young life. Enjoy it, let it burn itself into your mind, keep it locked away so the memory will return to comfort you in more difficult times.
She did, feeling every minute contact as he brought them ever closer to fulfillment, feeling her bodily sensation heighten and grow more acute with each bit of effort. He was almost to it, something told her and she willed her body to open still further until she could possess him completely. "Darling, that's itl"
Their final rhythm lasted only an instant, as she locked her limbs about him and squeezed with all her power. They rose together in a swell of ecstasy and were carried away into the depths of the night-each of them together and yet apart in the Valhalla peculiar to the individual senses.