Chapter 10

She was still peering up into his face, standing close, breasts thrust forward, chin also set in a hard line and thrusting. She kept her hands on her hips and her feet were planted wide.

"Suppose you explain yourself, young man."

Young man? He'd forgotten, but he supposed she was almost 10 years his senior. But she looked younger than he, almost as young as Joyce.

"God, I'm sorry. I forgot myself. You have such a beautiful ... Well, I realize now I shouldn't have ... But it was so tempting."

She might have been smiling, mocking him behind those firm lips, but he couldn't be certain. He only knew that those heavy breasts were rising and falling swiftly, seemingly aching to tumble out over the top of the bikini bra. It would only be a matter of time before she had an accident in that inadequate suit.

"Well," she muttered, her firm glance wavering. "I suppose it could have been half an accident, too, couldn't it, Jim?" She placed her hand on his forearm.

He nodded and blurted, "Sure. I guess that was part of it. I thought you might be falling and I wanted to help."

"Of course you did. No harm done." She stepped back and looked around. "I wonder if those suits are up there on the top shelf. If I could get on that stool...."

"I'll do it for you."

"No." She shook her head. "You'd never figure out how Kitty hides things. I think I can reach, if you'll bring the stool over here to the far comer."

Jim did as he was told, hurrying to the corner and bringing back a three-legged stool. It didn't look very strong and he wondered if it would collapse if he put his weight on it. It would hold Helen easily enough. He set it down under the high shelves and she moved it farther into the center of the room.

"I'll probably need to get up on tiptoe as it is," she muttered. "Here, give me your hand."

She gripped his hand and braced the other on his shoulder as she bounced up onto the stool. Being so close to her was making his prick harder and he prayed she wouldn't see it poking into his fly. Christ, it must look like the end of a baseball bat.

She bobbed before him, all white bikini, brown flesh, soft breasts and curving hips. He could smell her-a slightly musky odor and just gamy enough to turn him on. He'd need to be careful or he'd put a hand back on her.

He frowned. But, damn it, it had been his plan to seduce her, to degrade her, to bend her to his will and make her perform like a monkey on a stick, just as Scott had done to Joyce. Well, perhaps she'd warm up enough if they stayed together. He'd wait for his chance, but it was some time off, for she was sexually as distant as darkest Africa.

She stood quietly on the stool, peering down at him. Then she wiggled and the stool creaked. "Do you think it'll hold me?"

"I won't guarantee anything," he replied.

"You'd better stay close. Like, steady me, will you?

When I get up on my toes I'm pretty wobbly-just like this crazy old stool."

"Sure." He moved closer, his chin about on a level with her navel and he waited at her hip. Where in thunder could he grab on without having her knock his block off?

"Well?"

"What do you want me to do?" he asked. "You could start by holding on to my knees, or something."

He tentatively placed his hands on her knees, holding them as though they were door knobs. He heard her snort down at him before she spoke.

"That's no good. Wrap your arms around my legs, for heaven's sake. Nobody's going to bite."

Jim took a breath and then did as he was told. He was standing in front of her now, better able to support her that way. Her flesh was smooth and cool to the touch, even though it was close in the linen room. Her scent was stronger and he knew she would soon begin to perspire more. She couldn't remain that cool.

His face was only an inch from her belly, the button now even with his mouth. She seemed to be leaning harder against him as she tilted her body toward the shelves. She gripped an edge and rummaged with the other hand. She was up on her toes and wobbling still.

Her body kept moving against him, shaking, wiggling, the flesh wanning under his arms and hands as he kept his arms wrapped around her thighs, well above her knees. They were sturdy thighs, now beginning to dampen, and there were only a few thin hairs on their sleek surface.

"How ... How you doing?" He craned his head to look up but all he could see was those breasts looming just above his forehead. They were a shelf of flesh, bobbing, soft, and he knew the skin would be hot to the touch. Jesus, but no man could be expected to perform such a chore and not want to do what he wanted to do.

"Not very well," she remarked. "That Kitty could hide an elephant in a garage."

"I can use my own suit."

"No. We'll find you one. I have a certain style in mind that would make you look cute." She giggled like a schoolgirl and continued to rummage.

Jim was sweating now, his T-shirt getting damp and an itching beginning in his crotch. He knew the cause of that. His prick wanted to get out into the open air, to be sent into action, to be used for the first time in far too many days. But he carried on like a loyal servant, wondering how he could make this woman before she knew what was happening. But if he failed, if she blew the whistle on him to Scott....

She kept wiggling and her belly button was swishing back and forth right under his nose. He'd lowered his gaze and his eyes now looked at shining flesh not an inch away. He could see every pore, every tiny hair, some of them glistening with beads of sweat.

"Any luck?"

"No. Just hang on. I'll find them." She giggled. "Are you comfortable?"

"Uh ... no."

He tightened his grip around her thighs and he let his hands slip between her legs and grip more thigh. He thought he felt something change in her. Whether it was her breathing, her muscles, her heartbeat ... He wasn't certain. He squeezed with his hands and the change was more pronounced. But he wasn't going to let her catch him at anything. He wasn't going to go all out before he was certain. .

She hummed softly far above him, her body doing its little brisk dance. He pressed his face forward an inch and his nose touched her belly, just above the button. The belly sucked in at once, held its breath, and then slowly let itself out again. It was back to his nose and he touched it lightly without complaint from its owner.

He looked down. Christ, those bikini bottoms. The thin strip of white cut across from each hip, dipped far down in the front so that he knew she'd shaved away some hair to keep it out of sight. Her stomach curved out beautifully and went in before the white cut off the view. It would be so easy to get that scrap of cloth down where it wouldn't spoil the view.

"Progress?" His voice was understandably uncertain.

"We'll find it. Just hang on." Her voice might have changed a little, too, but he wouldn't bet on it.

He hung on, but he pulled his chin and chest back a little so he could look down better. Yes, it was all there and her golden thighs were running far down to the rest of the legs, which went down to the stool. She was made up of fascinating pieces of bone structure and flesh and he loved every part. If only he....

"Don't drop me," she warned.

"I won't," he replied.

His nose went back against her belly and he worked it slightly lower so that it dipped into her navel. Her surprise could be felt more distinctly and he figured she didn't scold him because she believed it was an accident, or that it was necessary to keep her from falling. He noted that she was sweating freely now. She had a trembling in her knees that hadn't been there before. Probably getting tired of her balancing act. She seemed to be breathing faster and, when he looked up, her breasts rose and fell.

He looked down again, down toward where he wanted to be. He might be able to pull off the trick and she'd never be any the wiser.

"Want me to keep hanging on?"

"You know it," she said.

Fair enough, Mrs. English, he mused.

He lowered his face more, so that he was looking right into her belly button and his chin was slipping over the lower curve, down to where it touched the white bikini band. He pressed the chin into her softness and she didn't pull away, didn't complain, didn't seem to be the least suspicious.

He pressed harder with his chin, but the band of white was stubborn. Yet, he finally got it to yield a little bit. It moved down a half an inch and at once his senses almost boiled over. There he was, brushing her pubic hair. He pulled away and looked at the undersides of her breasts. Then he looked down, seeing the first few black hairs of her pubic thatch.

Beautiful. He licked his lips and pressed his face back into her belly. She seemed to have become accustomed to his nearness, for she didn't move. She was still damp and her breathing was alternately shallow and then deep, but she wasn't suspicious. She'd made no move to shove him away. After all, he was only following orders, wasn't he?

His chin was hooked against the bikini band again and he worked it down another inch. It wouldn't take much, he knew for him to make it give up. There was so little for it to cling to. Yet, the damned thing sud demy got stubborn. It was stuck and it wouldn't come any farther.

Helen inadvertently helped him solve the problem. She said, "I keep feeling I'm going to fall and it makes using both hands scary. Maybe you'd better support me better. Higher."

He smiled into the softness of her belly. "All right," he said at last. "Anything you say."

"I'm sorry to work you so hard," she said, her voice seeming to rise unnaturally. "You'll get your reward. You'll see."

"Huh?" He almost fell, he was so startled.

"In the pool, silly. You'll cool off just like that." She snapped her fingers.

"Oh, of course."

He lifted his hands to the very top of her thighs, around at the back where they disappeared inside the cupping tight seat of the bikini. He wished he were on that side so he could push his face into the bottom. If she kept looking he might arrange it yet.

Instead he pressed into her groin, wanting to grab the bikini in his teeth and pull it down to her knees. Instead he slipped his thumbs under the seam at the back and caught the ridge of material with his forefingers. He got a tight grip and shifted his stance. The movement caused him to pull down slightly and the bikini slipped an inch over her bottom.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"That's all right. Just don't drop me."

"That's the last thing I'll do," he replied.

She resumed her search and he wiggled again, and again he worked an inch of the material over her saucy bottom. It fit so damned tight it was like peeling away a layer of flesh. But what delightful real flesh there was, all around him only a small minority of it still covered by the bikini.

"Everything all right down there?" she excitedly asked him. "I feel as though I'm coming undone."

"Everything's fine," he stammered. "Just so you don't fall down."

"That's the main thing," she agreed, and again her voice rose as though she were having trouble controlling it. Frustration at being unable to find the suits, probably, Jim assumed.

She stretched higher than ever and her body was even more exposed. Her stretching also helped to let the suit slip a little more. He tugged another inch at the back and then he opened his mouth and closed his teeth over the thin front band. He was careful not to get any skin or hairs in his bite.

He pulled, back and then front. In a few seconds the front was down so that a generous triangle of black hair was exposed and he knew he'd soon be coming to the top of her vagina. At the rear the suit was halfway over the curve of her cheeks and slipping rapidly down the bottom. God, there would be a foot of crack exposed already.

"How you doing down there?" she called, and he thought there was a strange note in her voice. No, he wasn't going to be trapped. If she blew the whistle on him he'd be finished at the bank and all of Joyce's sacrifice would be fruitless.

He decided to go on playing it straight as he freed his mouth from the bikini. "All right." His voice was weak and uneven. "How about you?"

"Just fine," she said, her voice gushing as though she were very happy.

"What about the bathing suits?"

"Oh, them. They're up here somewhere. I'll just keep on rummaging, so long as you hold me up."

"My pleasure."

She cooed down at him, but he didn't take the bait. So he worked on the suit some more. It was coming down over her hips in a smooth motion as he pulled on one side and then the other.

It jerked off her bottom with a snap and he felt her cheeks wiggle. "Oh," she said from up above.

Jim froze for almost a full minute, but she didn't seem alarmed. She was still rummaging and humming to herself. She was certainly more animated than she'd been when she'd first spoken to him in the bedroom door. He blew out his cheeks and then he gripped the front of the suit in his teeth once again. He pulled down.

It came with his mouth, down over her crotch and he discovered with a shock that he was looking right into her pussy. It was shaded with black hair, but pink and shining in there as though it were ready for action.

He worked on and it was then down to her thighs, completely away from her crotch. Her buttocks were exposed, of course, her hips, everything above her upper thighs. He stared into the pink purse of a hole and it seemed to stare back at him. He knew he was imagining things when it seemed to wink at him. It was only Helen shifting her position.

"Hey, what's going on down there?"

He looked up swiftly. She wasn't watching him, but still hunting. Her questioning tone seemed casual enough. "Uh, just kind of tangled up."

"I should think so. I can hardly move. You seem to be holding me with two pair of arms."

He gulped and swallowed as he looked back into her crotch. Behind he reached up and cupped the cheeks of her bottom. "Don't fall," he breathed.

"I hope not," she cried, her voice quaking.

Jim was ready to go off in his pants-again.