Chapter 12
They lay by the lip of the pool, alone in the almost deserted resort, two of the few guests willing to endure the boiling heat of a Palm Springs summer.
Their bodies, covered with oil to prevent them from blistering in a matter of minutes, were comfortable on long, air-filled rubber pads. They had been out of the water for only a minute, but already Sandra's hair was drying, and she could feel the first prickle of perspiration under the halter of her suit.
She looked at Tony, who lay with his face a few inches from hers, his body within reach-all the way down to their feet. His eyes were closed, and he was enjoying the exhausted rest of a man who had been called on twice within the hour to satisfy a woman who loved him.
Sandra slept too ... and then she awoke...
It was growing dark about them and already a few lights were winking on here and there. She didn't know how long they had lain like this, but her body tingled. Thank goodness the sun had set. They would be free of its burning power until they were back in the mountains.
She didn't like to think about that, for it meant they must part again, not to see one another for, perhaps, two more agonizing weeks. She couldn't stand that long a wait. She needed him with her constantly.
She lifted her chin and put her face close to his, blowing softly until he blinked and opened his eyes. He stared vacantly for a moment, looking at her as though she were a stranger. She was frightened until he smiled in recognition.
"Lord!" he sighed, stretching his wonderful body. "What did you put in my gimlet?"
She giggled. "I didn't give you anything, lover. I simply took all you had."
"Amen! A female Hercules."
"I'm only as strong as you make me, darling." Again she laughed, a wanton gurgle in her throat. "And I hope you do, often."
"Make you?"
"Yes."
He rolled his eyes. "I've latched on to a direct descendant of Attila the Hun."
She placed her fingers over his lips until he stopped making sounds. Then she kissed him lightly, resisting the impulse to hurl herself upon him. She made herself take her lips away.
"Tony. I meant it when I said I was good with you. You make me something special. I think we're good for each other."
"I told you that first night. It's the power of electricity."
"Yes." She nodded. "Another word for it is love."
He looked at her, studying her eyes. "Love ... that word can mean many things."
"I know what it means to me-and to you." She ran her fingers over the bridge of his nose and down to his lips again, letting his teeth catch their tips and nibble on them. "Tony?"
"Hm?"
"What's going to happen with us?"
She wondered if she only imagined that a veil dropped behind his eyes. "More marvelous things, that's what."
"You know I love you, darling. I want to be with you always." She took away her fingers and replaced them with her lips, whispering directly into his mouth. "Will you take me with you? Will we go away together when this wonderful summer is ended?"
He chuckled and pulled his head away from her, his laugh a bit stiff. "Hey, aren't we pushing things just a bit? I thought the man was supposed to make the sales pitch." He smiled. "Besides I haven't discussed your dowry with Mr. Albright, that rich lumber magnate from Oregon."
"A mere administrative detail," she persisted, hitching her body forward so that her face was close to his again. "We're not living in Victorian times, darling. I can make any decision I please and tell my parents afterward. There's no one you need ask for permission to carry me off to your secret castle in the clouds."
He smiled ruefully. "I'm afraid there are no castles in my estate. Not even a six-room house."
"Shucks, I thought I was landing a prince with his own rich kingdom."
"No such luck." He shook his head. "I've been strapped all year, as a matter-of-fact. I spent last year finishing my doctorate, and I'm still paying the bills for that. Your prince has patches in his velvet cape, I fear."
"I'll take you, rich or poor."
He looked into her eyes, his wide gaze searching. "Don't run with the bit in your teeth, Sandra."
Something in his tone stopped her. "What do you mean?"
"Where I come from," he said sternly, "the men make such decisions as who will live with whom and when and how and where. A Gibbs man is never ruled by his princess, except in the kitchen and bedchamber."
Sandra closed her eyes, her heart almost stopping in the sudden wave of shame which washed over her. She looked at him again, her eyes brimming, her smile tender. "Will you please forget how stupidly I've been acting the past few minutes, Mr. Gibbs? Your friend Sandra Albright tends to get rather pushy when she becomes enthusiastic about something close to her heart." She kissed him on the forehead. "Thank you for putting a brake on my runaway emotions."
"Baby, I ... I didn't mean to hurt your feelings." He stroked her sleek hair, his touch light, tender.
"You haven't. You're making me behave like an adult, that's all." She sighed. "You're absolutely right about my being too pushy. Actually, I wouldn't think much of a man who would allow me to make plans which are properly his to make. I guess that's why I like the Gibbs type of man."
He seemed relieved, and she suspected he was glad to be put in charge again. "You're something special, Miss Albright. Remind me to tell you that ... often."
"I shall," she murmured, looking over her shoulder at the deserted pool area. She rolled against him, locking her arms around his neck, pulling him half over her so she could look up into his eyes. "I'll remind you of something else. Something I want very badly-but I'll promise to be subtle. Okay?"
"Okay."
He kissed her, their lips strong on one another and she felt her body awaken at the contact, suddenly anxious for more of this remarkable man. How wanton she was becoming! Twice in one afternoon and now, when it was scarcely dark, she was panting for him again.
Her fingers dug into his back, pulling him down on her, hard, eagerly, desperately, clutching at his muscles like a drowning woman reaching for the surface.
"Hey, tiger." He managed to pull his face one inch from her lips. "You're insatiable. If I'd known you were such a glutton, I never would have asked you to dance."
"Old insatiable, that's me." She laughed, her voice hitting a wild note, and she cut it off, embarrassed. "There I go, playing the cave woman again." She tangled her fingers in his hair. "But it's true, Oona needs her caveman, Zug. Does Zug want to take Oona back into the cave?"
He pulled himself to his hands and knees and gazed around the inner patio. Except for a light in the office, the place was dark. Apparently the manager was saving on his summer electric bill by leaving the pool lights off, too. Sandra saw these things at the same time Tony saw them.
"I know what you're going to suggest and I'd love it," she blurted, sitting up with him.
He stood and pulled her to her feet. She knew she looked good in the bikini. Its fabric hugged every curve and hollow of her body, and the first time Bobby Williamson had seen it on her he had gone wild. Tony looked her over now, and she knew he was becoming aroused, just at the sight of her.
"Okay, water sprite, let's go," he whispered.
Together, they went to the ladder and she led the way, creeping down its chromium rungs, easing her body into the cool, dark water. He came close behind and she was able to reach up to pinch him as he descended.
Then they were in all the way, only their faces bobbing at the surface, treading water, their cupped hands drawing them slowly to a shallow corner which was farthest from the light.
At last she stood, the water at her waist, her feet on the bottom, her back braced against the side. His face was only a shadow before her, the whites of his eyes and his teeth glowing dully in the night.
She felt his hands exploring her body again, pulling at the taut halter, which stretcbed and yielded to his pressure. Then he was pulling at her hips, removing the bottom, careful to keep the water from swirling too much.
At the same time, she fumbled with the lacing at his waist, jerking the bow, opening the string so she could pull at his skimpy trunks. Down they came, seeming to cooperate ever so much better than her own. But at last his hips were freed of the elastic, and the rest was easy.
They came together, their bodies cool and hard, probing for one another. Her breasts were rigid and swollen, wanting to float to the surface like cork cones. He touched them, feeling their tips, which were like chilled rubber.
Sandra spread her arms behind her, gripping the side of the pool, bracing her elbows. At the same instant she swung her legs forward, catching him at the waist, pulling him tightly against her. With a simple bend of his knees, Tony was able to guide himself so that they met exactly as they wanted.
Sandra's head was flung far back, resting on the edge of the pool through it all. With eyes closed tightly, her teeth clenched, she loved her man for the third time in just a few hours.
What, she wondered during the frenzy of their lovemaking, am I turning into? I've practically raped this man three times. Only two weeks ago, I was a girl, a virgin, a girl who only dreamed of such experiences, thinking they were only for others.
Now I'm in the middle of a torrid, pulling, whirling sex cauldron, wanting more, more, more ... But more from one man only-and that's what makes it beautiful.
At their climax, she thought of nothing at all. Her animal senses took over, giving her the strength of ten, giving full vent to all the lust of her demanding young body...
The car purred like a jungle cat as it crept down the report city's main street at ten miles an hour. It was a large, new car, air-conditioned so its owner was comfortable.
It drove the entire length of the hotel strip, a distance of almost five miles. Then it turned and came back again, slowing at the entrance to each hotel. There wasn't much to look for, really. Most of the places were next to being empty, witb only a few cars parked in their patios.
From time the entire parking area was not visible from the street, so the large sedan would turn into the hotel patio, its lights dimmed, and make a slow circle of the grounds, so its owner could see every car.
Then it would proceed down the strip again, more slowly than ever, because there weren't many places left to search ... Wait!
The car stopped with a slight squeal of brakes. It backed up and turned into the hotel, its headlights out. It was dark in the patio, but the car skirted the pool and stopped, the silhouette of a convertible between it and the lighted cabana beyond.
The driver stepped from the car, closing the door until it touched the jam to keep the cool air inside, but careful that the latch made no noise. At the side of the convertible, the driver produced a tiny flashlight, snapped it on and directed its small white cone to the steering column and the registration slip.
It was easy to read-Anthony H. Gibbs, 34 Calle Hermosa, Santa Barbara.
The light went off, and the figure walked to the cabana, stepping to one side of the window, seeking to see through the tiny space between the drapes and the frame.
There! That was the place to look. Something moved. A man's feet-bare feet-on a couch. Patience ... Ah! She was crossing the room to him. Excellent! She stopped for a moment in full view, framed by the tiny window crack.
It was Sandra Albright in there with him, and she was smiling down at the couch. She held a cocktail glass in either hand. What kind of drink was in the glasses? Gimlets, perhaps, but it really didn't matter. Sandra herself was much more interesting.
The figure at the window breathed more deeply at sight of her, hands trembling as the flashlight was tucked back into a purse.
Better to get back to camp and a good night's rest, so she could think of some pleasant surprise for Sandra Albright on her return.
She got back into the sedan and purred away from the hotel and the resort city as softly as she had come. But she didn't sleep well when she returned to the Treacher Camp just before dawn.
Her body was still aroused by the view of Sandra she'd gotten at the cabana window. She had seen a body young and proud, perfectly rounded, graceful, wonderfully feminine...
... and completely nude...
It was sunset, a time of day which was becoming Sandra's favorite time. Dinner was over and so was the busy schedule of activities which had kept her on the jump since sunrise.
A hundred-and-fifty teenaged girls didn't run out of energy as quickly as Sandra, even though she was only a few years older than they. Those kids could go and go and go and never seem to tire.
Now, except for the usual evening program, she was finished with her duties until sunrise tomorrow. Often, she was one of the evening campfire leaders, directing the group in singing or dancing or games. But tonight, there was to be a nice long motion picture film about survival in the forest.
She sat at the head of her bed, her knees tucked under her chin, pad and pen in hand. How many days had it been? She pretended to think, knowing the number was burned into her brain. Five ... it had been five days since their long night at Palm Springs, and they hadn't seen one another since he deposited her some distance up the road from the Treacher Camp gate. That had been a scant half hour before sunrise Monday morning.
They had not communicated since then. Ridiculous as it seemed, Sandra knew the only thing to do was write, as Tony had written her the week before. She would send him a note, and perhaps they could arrange to meet again soon, when they were free.
She let her knees down slightly and rested the pad on them, beginning to write. The thoughts came easily, straight from her heart.
Dearest-It's been five years, not five days, since I've been alive. You know, of course, that I'm only alive when you're near. I'll never forget our cozy hacienda, the wonderful pool and the things we did. How wonderful it is to explore with you, to discover what life is really about ...
"Miss Albright?"
The small voice came from outside the screen, and Sandra put aside her pad, getting up to open the door. It was an office messenger, wearing the arm band which made her duties so terribly official. "What is it, Eleanor?"
"Mrs. St. Claire wants to see you at the office. She said for you to come right away. All right?"
Sandra smiled. "All right, messenger girl. You've done your duty."
When the girl was gone, she sighed, looking at the unfinished letter. She'd hurry to Hester and get back before the film ended, so she could finish it before the girls poured into the tent.
She opened her locker and looked at herself in the mirror, tucking in her T-shirt and smoothing her shorts. She examined her face, thankful that the dark circles which hung under her eyes early in, the week were gone. When a girl lived the outdoor life all summer, a bit of late-dating could change her looks in a hurry.
Please, she whispered to herself, her eyes closed. Please, Tony, come and take me away now. Give me dark circles again. I love earning them and I wear them with honor.
She sighed and went outside, walking easily across the dark and deserted clearing. Everybody must be at that silly survival movie, she thought. She went across the porch outside the office, seeing the blinds were pulled for privacy. She opened the door, hoping there was nothing ominous in the closed blinds.
Nonsense! She had learned to handle Hester. With only a bit more than a week to go before the end of summer, she could hold her off until they broke camp for the season.
Hester sat behind her desk, scribbling on a mass of papers before her. She looked up when Sandra crossed the room, smiled briefly, waved at one of the chairs.
Sandra sat waiting, saying nothing, watching Hester sign papers, scribble short notes at the tops of letters and gradually work her way through the back log of office work. She glanced around the office at the old leather couch, then at the rows of group photographs of past camp classes and their leaders. By next year, she knew, the current class would be banging on the wall, and Sandra would be in the row of counselors in the foreground, just behind the supervisor. She continued looking, turning her eyes to the drawn blinds. No, that could mean nothing.
At last Hester stuck her pen back in its holder. Her desk was clear. "Well, that's that. First things first, you know." She smiled at Sandra warmly.
Then she got up and went to the door, snapping the bolt home with an authoritative click. She came back to the desk and, instead of getting behind it again, sat in the chair at Sandra's side.
"Well, darling Sandra," she said, her voice light, almost lilting with some hidden joy. "What are we going to do about you?"
Sandra frowned. "I beg your pardon."
"That, dear, was a rhetorical question. You see, we'll do with you what I choose, and I've already decided how you shall be handled."
Something froze in Sandra's breast, and she tightened her grip on the arms of the chair. The woman was smiling like a snake about to strike, positive it had full control over its victim. Well, it simply wasn't true!
"I'm afraid you're talking in riddles, Hester," she said airily.
"Of course. Perhaps I can explain to you." She took a deep breath and her look of satisfaction increased, spreading across her face like a wind-driven brush fire. "I know everything about last Sunday night."