Chapter 3
Nick pulled Lucy down on a handy sofa and cupped her pear-shaped breasts with his hand. She threw her shoulders back, accenting their thrust. The tiny points began to stiffen.
He felt no overpowering sensual drive. She had all the right equipment, she knew how to use her tongue and wiggle her hind end around, but she hadn't needed to tell him she required a long buildup.
There was some fault in her emotional structure. He had run into a few showgirls with the same problem. They looked sexy, they had super equipment, but in bed they were flops. Perhaps their outward attractions were nature's compensations for their lack of inner warmth.
Jud had married a screwball showpiece.
There was a chance he could bring her around, lift her to the right temperature. It might be fun trying, anyway.
He thought idly of Nona Mills, the quiet, shy blonde-plump where it counted and deliciously feminine. There might be a real hot one. He had an idea her responses would be natural, not half-simulated like Lucy's.
He took Lucy's mouth again. Her lips writhed, her tongue flirted. He continued to shape her breasts, teasing her nipples. She squeezed his leg with her ringers, moving closer. She opened him up.
The moist recesses of her mouth, where his tongue probed, commenced to respond. A little real heat communicated.
Deftly, she reached inside his shorts and found his maleness. A tremor ran along her lithe figure. She was doing better.
He left her breasts and dropped his hand to her thighs. She was symmetrical, silky smooth. She spread for his caresses, curling her loins invitingly. This, too, was a practiced gesture, but her tongue livened. Her hand on him tightened.
He claimed her woman-mound, still shielded by her shorts. She lifted against his hand, boldly. He played with her until her lips retreated. So did her hand.
"Ohhh-Nick! You're good. Let me take those off!"
He didn't answer. He released her and she glided upright. Standing there, her hands undoing her shorts, she was a picture of voluptuous allure, model-proportioned, her carmine lips parted, her dark hair shining in the subdued light. The band of whiter flesh on her breasts, where the bikini had hugged, added a touch of attraction.
Her shorts loosened and dropped. Her sheer pink panties couldn't hide her dark triangle. He experienced his first real surge of desire.
"Let me do a little dance for you, Nick!"
"Go ahead, while I undress."
She smiled, beginning to weave her hips and shoulders. "I took interpretive dancing at college, honey-but they didn't show us everything!"
He stood up and removed his shirt and trousers and shorts. Her eyes fastened on his loins. She pushed her thin panties lower, slowly displaying her naked femininity. She began to rotate her hips, her arms making caressing motions around her pointed breasts.
Nick applauded.
Her dancing became more abandoned. Her thighs spread and her bottom curled toward him in little bursts of suggestive invitation.
"like me better, honey?" she breathed, closing her thighs suddenly and letting her panties fall.
"Great, great!" he exclaimed.
She stepped daintily away from the wisp of pink nylon at her feet, moving closer to him. The woman-fragrance of her assailed his senses. He had seen plenty of strippers in his work as a musician and entertainer, but this act had a fine intimacy that excited him.
He was sorry now he hadn't found an excuse to come over and see her before this. She had taken care of that!
She pranced closer and he reached out, catching her around the waist just above her restless hips. "Ohhh!" she cried, softly.
He brought her into his lap, facing him. She was warm from her exertions, her breathing unsteady. The position wasn't new to her. She straddled him, resting her bottom on his legs.
His lips fastened on a pointed nipple. She trembled, her hands locking in his hair. She swung herself nearer, nearer ...
"Ohhh oh honey," she gasped. "I don't know-"
He lifted, and the first contact shot sparks of desire up his spine. She squirmed, her right hand lowering, guiding their sensual joining, as her nipple sharpened between his lips, stirring him even more.
A sound intruded. A loud crash came from the rear of the cabin.
Lucy went rigid. She jerked away from him. "Ohhh-damn," she breathed.
Nick had a moment of wild disappointment, obviously shared by the eager brunette. She lurched to her feet and ran out of the room. A door banged shut.
He seized his trousers, struggled into them, and stood up. He listened. The racket wasn't repeated. What was going on? Had Jud returned to his cabin unexpectedly?
Trousers on, he moved toward the rear of the cabin. Faintly, from outside, he heard the pound of running feet. The sound faded away into nothingness.
Suddenly Lucy appeared in the doorway of the room into which she had vanished. She wore a concealing robe of bright red. She was pale, her eyes wide with fright.
"Somebody was out there and then took off," he said, returning to the living room.
"I'll bet it was that Ridge-runner!" Lucy answered, visibly trembling. "That what?"
She tugged the robe more snugly about her figure. "Nick, haven't you heard about him?"
He shook his head. The interruption angered him. One hell of a time for breaking into their mood!
"A man's been loose around here all summer," she said. "Wanted by the police. He's been taking things from cabins. Some kind of nut, I suppose...." Her voice trailed off. She returned to the sofa, "Nick, I'm so sorry! Right when we were starting...."
He picked up his shirt, yanked out a cigarette and lit it. She took one, too. Her fingers were shaky. The racket had raised hell with the atmosphere of passion they had generated.
"This character ever hurt anybody?" he asked.
"A young girl was raped last year, but. . . "
"You told me you hadn't heard of any prowlers before, when I first came over."
She flushed, not meeting his gaze. "I faked that, Nick. I didn't think...."
He nodded. She had simply wanted him to come over and play house. Any excuse was good enough. He didn't mind that. She was quite a bundle and might possible be a better-than-average sex partner. Circumstance had evidently worked against him.
"Want me to go out there and look around?" he asked.
"No-I'm really scared, now!"
Well, the Ridge-runner or whoever had been lurking around the cabin, was gone. Why not proceed?
He dropped down beside her. She leaned against him, shivering. He hugged her and kissed her throat. He opened the robe at her waist and slipped his fingers in on her body. She didn't respond quite as readily as before.
Her sigh of appreciation encouraged him, though.
Maybe he could score even yet. He cozied her breasts, feeling her nipples reawaken.
"I was so-hot!" she whispered. Her fingers pressed his leg. "Make me that way again, honey!"
He opened her robe all the way down. He kissed her on the mouth, sliding his hand downward. Her thighs widened as he fondled the sweet length of them, the near-perfect contours she liked to display in photographs and bikinis.
It was pleasant diversion, but her reactions weren't as natural as before. She tried. He cavorted over all the soft contours that should have aroused her into panting readiness.
He cupped and squeezed. He kissed her nipples with all his skill, enjoying the perfumed aroma of her, the woman-warmth. He dallied with the tip of her need until she trembled and commenced to lift ...
Something was missing, though. Their mood had been shattered. The earlier passion was difficult to rekindle.
"In the bedroom, honey!" she whispered.
When they entered the boudoir his eyebrows lifted. She had left a light burning at the head of the bed. The room was fluffily feminine, the bed itself king-sized. She dropped the robe and rolled across the counterpane, slender legs spread, a vision of voluptuous allure.
Quickly he removed his trousers. The mattress gave luxuriously under his knees and hands. He moved into the proper position. She lifted herself ...
"Make me, honey!" she cried.
He entered her, and her legs coiled knowingly around him. A moan escaped her lips. Braced there, he kissed her pointed nipples, pleased with their now uninterrupted togetherness. She responded generously! Her ringers fluttered over his chest.
He felt the elation of capturing her, of sounding her, the usual virile excitements-and at the same time he sensed her lack of deep emotion. She knew all the moves, all the motions of enjoyment. She was beautiful and eager. But there was also a hint of desperation in her manner.
He couldn't lose himself in the act. The bed sighed and he employed all his talents. Finally, he let her make the moves, hoping she could benefit ...
Finally, her strivings took on an edge of reality. He had waited long enough! He pounded and the fizzy elevation of passion seized him. For one wild moment he thought he felt her true answering tremors.
Then it was gone-and he settled for the lesser thrill. He gave her his virility, pantingly, his victory now rather shallow, lonely. He coasted for a long moment in his own well of sensation ...
"Ohhh-damn," she cried softly, her voice shaky with regret, with frustration.
He rolled away from her. She lay very still, her hands clenched.
He reached for her. At least she could have a measure of relief ...
Even then, it took him a long while to lift her to the edge of her need and bring her over the rim into gasping, quivering culmination.