Chapter 2
Benjamin Carr took the telegram from Judy Hubbard as though it might turn and bite him. It did. In that long, costly straight wire which should have been sent as a night letter, or even telephoned, lay a not too well hidden threat to his dream.
"Darling Judy," breathed the black type, and Ben could hear her whispering, as coyly confidential as the latest television commercial glamour girl. "Guess what? You can't believe the wonderfully beautiful buy I've made. A ranchero sixty or maybe seventy-five miles from you. It produces fruit trees, nuts; that fabulous climate! Big house; barn I shall convert into kennels. Meet me there Sunday morning and bring plenty of you-know-what for running expenses. I'm a bit short, having paid cash. Now here is how you get there-"
Benjy read the detailed directions and handed the wire back. "Better pack an overnight bag if you expect to find it from this.
"Tell you what; I'll go with you. We'll make a reconnoitering trip before she shows up. We'll start early Saturday morning. Oh, oh."
Judy, who had been about to lean on his shoulder, stiffened. "Now what?"
"Electronics Incorporated. Taking him to the club, elevenish; golf, lunch and who knows what from then on. He wants to park his wife at the clubhouse.
"Judy-" he stood very straight and very handsome-"There is only one answer to this. Marry her off."
"Good thinking!" she sang, cheered.
Why had she never thought of that? Simple. To her Martha was not an entity; she was Hal's widow. And if ever a woman needed a man to look after her, it was Martha.
"Have to be careful in our choice," Benjy ruminated, "or you'll be stuck with two of them."
"You; not we."
"I now realize," he said a bit loftily, "your real reason for not marrying me. Deep in your subconscious lies the fear we might have to perform a costly rescue. If you were not earning-and you wouldn't be as my wife-I'd have to foot the bill. That would crucify you."
He said he had Sunday free; they'd drive up together. He'd be with her to meet Martha and sell her on the proper approach to her latest potential debacle.
The idea was good, but how could Judy live through Friday, let alone Saturday?
She couldn't. She slept neither Thursday nor Friday night, and early Saturday crept down to the apartment garage.
If you've got an aching tooth, have it pulled, she reasoned. Don't put off the agony.
Friday night she had thought maybe Benjy would be free. A heavy rain had fallen. But this morning the skies were promising sunshine, enough to dry off the golf course. And the rain had lapped up the fog.
Judy drove as she felt. By the time the first five hundred cars en route to recreation areas had honked at her, her temper and speed picked up.
When she reached a wide valley and saw the horizon putting on a clearance sale display of cumulus clouds in all colors, she dared hope Martha had done the impossible.
Maybe this time she had made a good buy.
She overshot the first turnoff, and could not make the second because the freeway had become a speedway. Finally she found a cloverleaf that proved a turntable and consigned the highway engineer who'd designed it to an eternity of perpetually following his own design.
Her spirits dropped, but she couldn't drop her speed without being crushed.
Finally, some hundred and fifteen miles from her starting point, Judy came upon a town she remembered. The junction was complete with beautiful traffic control lights; not that many observed the yellow. But on the green she risked life, limb and a dent in the car's fender to breeze down and search for the old two-lane highway.
Promptly she began worrying about Martha, worn from a long drive, trying to find her newest home. She felt she'd better take restoration and drove into an eating place she remembered.
She drove out immediately. Its roof had fallen in.
Occasionally beauty thrust itself upon her. The crimson leaves still clung to the wine grapes of a great vineyard. A row of pale-gold poplars shot up like winter sunshine.
Then, when she'd about given up, she saw a road sign, turned and began climbing a macadamized road. She came down on the other side, saw another sign and said stoutly, "It can't be."
But of course it could and was. Reluctantly she turned onto a poorly graveled lane and began going down.
She stopped the car at the bottom.
At first she saw only a realtor's sign nailed to a fence post, a triumphant banner with a scarlet "SOLD" pasted across.
"Who but Martha?" she murmured.
Cautiously she got out of her car and stood looking out on the dreariest scene of the day: a tall, thin house with no saving grace, completely surrounded by naked trees stretching bent and broken arms toward an uncaring sky.
And oh, the stillness! Nothing moved.
But something whimpered.
Judy looked down to find a beagle looking up, his soul in his brown eyes, his long body one curving symbol of friendliness, his expressive tail waving.
"Adonis," a masculine voice said sternly, "heel."
But it was Judy's heels he chose.
"Strange." The voice was coming out of some brush. "Adonis doesn't like women."
"I doubt," stammered the fear-chilled Judy, "that Aphrodite could stand this climate. He'd settle for-oh?"
There'd been a crash, a word usually reserved for locker rooms, and a man stood forth from the brush, a forked branch like a yoke about his neck.
"I took a short cut," he explained, or thought he did.
"A neighbor saw your car turn down the road. Telephoned me. She suggested smelling salts. Don't use them. All I have is a small bottle of rum. Had," he corrected, feeling his hip pocket.
Judy scanned the distance between the man, herself and her car. This awful house was bad enough without a raving maniac.
"You are Miss Hubbard, aren't you?" he demanded.
Judy nodded.
"And you did buy this place?"
Judy's head swung in the opposite direction so hard her neck cracked audibly.
"Bess Henderson telephoned to say a realtor had called her and told her to watch for a Martha Hubbard due in from Arizona. So Bess dispatched me on an errand of mercy when she saw your car."
Oh well. And he was nice, now that he'd removed his yoke, picked up his hunting cap, smoothed down light-brown hair and wiped whatever it was yokes left on one's face.
"I'm Judy Hubbard," she managed, "Martha's sister-in-law. She's a widow with no sales resistance. I came up hoping to stop her purchase of this-"
She'd shot up in his approval rating. It was in his grey eyes.
"If you'd like to telephone the realtor, you can walk up to my house with me. Road's out just beyond the bend. Or if you'd rather you can back up to the highway."
"Back?"
"No turnaround here until I return with an axe."
She considered the axe with a shiver, then saw the driveway was blocked by a fallen tree, one of the mighty walnuts Martha's wire had mentioned in a P.S.
He sounded all right. And he did know Martha's name. Maniacs seldom bothered to use names for decoys.
Adonis barked encouragingly. Maniacs didn't come equipped with dogs, either.
He started ahead, and she saw why he no longer had the rum bottle. Someplace on the short cut he must have fallen down hard. Surely he deserved cooperation after such a sacrifice.
"I'll telephone the realtor. It's Saturday; we should catch him in. We'll take the long path up," he concluded firmly. "Fewer hazards."
Judy questioned that. They came to a stream with the remains of a bridge across its bed, but the bed was nearly dry so they slipped over it. The boulders were a bit slimy from last night's rain.
And they came to a cliff going up the steep side, because the road, having gone up the less steep side, had given up and doubled back on top of itself, leaving a muddy barrier.
Once on the cliff, the man turned and smiled. "Now that you're no longer afraid of me, would you like to sit down and catch your breath? By the way, my name is Jones. William John, called John by the initiate."
Judy collapsed on an outcrop of rock and caught her breath, then held it. Why, this was beautiful. Even that old house looked livable from here. And how had John Jones known she was afraid of him?
"May I ask if your sister-in-law has any particular plans for the old Cody place?"
So that's what it was called. "Oh, yes," Judy sighed, "Martha always has plans for making money."
And she led him through the many ventures from the angleworms to the pelted Chihuahuas.
"Now she has visions of making money with the fruits and nuts on those poor trees. Could she?"
He gave a negative shake of the head. "I doubt it. The orchard has been neglected for several years. Also, there is another handicap. The sun doesn't reach into that hollow during the early spring and summer months. Hence the crop is always late; the market's glutted by the time the fruit is ready to pick."
Judy nodded. That figured. There was always an angle to a Martha purchase.
"We'd better get on." Jones stood up, and Judy looked at his damp pocket.
"I'd like to replace that casualty," she mused.
"No need. It was just a leftover from last Christmas. My sister believes puddings should throw off flames before being served."
The rest of the climb was easy, and when Judy came to the top she had breath enough to say, "Oh, how lovely."
She wasn't speaking of the big two-story frame house ahead, but of the view to the west. The nearer they came to the house, the more serene it looked. I am what I am, and not even an architect can change me.
There were willow rockers on the wide veranda, hemmed by broad railings. There were globs of mud on top of the railings, mute evidence of masculine feet being lifted.
Judy thought of the plush reclining board Stay ton had installed in their "re-creating room." Stayton was a firm believer in giving the blood a chance to reach the head periodically, and Judy was now able to enter that room without a start when she found some co-worker standing on his head.
Judy remembered how strange she thought the ad world was when she first started out. Everyone seemed so bizarre and unusual. The recreation room was but a part of it-a part of it that symbolized just how crazy her chosen profession was.
She smiled. Her first interview had summed it up perfectly.
Judy had been nervous. After all, she was about to embark on her life's work. She knew that J. Walter Thompson, McCann-Erickson and other agencies were the top ones in the field, but she had scheduled her first interview with a small, little-known agency, only because they were the first one to reply to the massive mailing she'd sent out.
The name of the outfit was Dane-Wilcox, and while it sounded suitably Anglo-Saxon, the prime ingredient in a successful agency's name, she had never heard of them.
She found out why during the interview.
Judy's appointment was with John Dane himself, one of the agency principals. He turned out to be a casually dressed, greying, lean man in his early forties. He invited her into his office and gave her a cup of coffee.
"We specialize in men's magazines," Dane had told her.
"Really?"
"Yes. We like to think of ourselves as a sexually liberated ad agency. In fact, a condition of your employment will be your sexual attitude."
"I don't mind," Judy said. "As you know, things have changed in the past few years. Sexually, I suppose, I'm as liberal as a girl can be."
Dane's eyes lit up. He was a handsome man, and Judy had been without a man for quite a while. She liked his looks and she liked his direct approach.
"Would you mind if I made myself more comfortable?" Dane asked with a grin.
"Go right ahead," Judy had answered. She already had decided that this wasn't the agency for her-too small, for one thing. But there did seem a chance to have some fun, and she was without another interview for the day.
"If you don't mind," Dane said as he removed his shirt, "I'd like it if you removed your clothing."
Judy laughed. "Let's stop fooling around," she said. "I'm as horny as you are. So let's strip and get it on!"
Dane's eyes lit up as she peeled off her clothes. Off with the preppie jacket first, then her sweater and bra in one sweep. Two gorgeous boobs swung free, full and firm with tiny, dark red nipples.
Her squirming off of dress, panty hose and panties revealed an even tastier sight: a tightly trimmed bush of curly down between two thinly curving thighs. Her red lips curled outward underneath in full view.
She was good enough to eat, Dane decided. As nice and juicy as the gals in the mags he worked with. He wanted to catch a shot of her wet spread.
Judy knew the score. She walked up to him brazenly and grabbed his bulge. "How about I liberate this?" she asked. She knew his answer when his cock shifted as it grew.
Judy dropped to her knees and undid him. A shove of the pants downward snapped out his big pecker. It was thick and virile, a monstrous shaft of pulsing flesh that was bigger, thicker, and harder than any she'd ever seen before.
"My cock isn't all that needs liberating," Dane growled at her. Judy took the cue and swallowed him, gulping his hard-on inward with curving wet lips. They gnawed at his veined skin while she slipped him flicks inside with her tongue.
His cock was so big that Judy had trouble getting it all the way into her mouth. But she sucked at him eagerly, almost forcing herself to accept him into her as far as she could get him. Her lips pulled hard at him. Her face shifted and turned, trying to screw the shaft down her throat.
To Dane it was an incredible head-job. He knew what was good, having been sucked by most of the models looking for a job. A job for a job, a spread for a spread. That was how Dane worked and lived. But this one was something else again.
She chewed at him vigorously, until she aligned her face and his cock in so that it began to slink down her throat. At first she gagged, which jolted Dane in a most pleasurable way. Then she turned her head a bit further and slipped him down. His whole cockhead was hugged and buried in her throat. Then she proceeded to work him with her whole mouth. As his cock jammed down, she wrapped him in her wet cheeks. Her mouth felt like a pussy, and his cock begged for release.
Judy started chugging him up and down her throat, fucking him with her deepness. Dane's balls buckled and bulged. He felt a warm rush build in his torso. Then a long stream of bubbling jizm shot through him and down her throat. She took it down easily and happily.
With her mouth still on him she got Dane to lie down. She sucked him like a pivot as she turned around to offer her wide thighs. Dane looked up and saw one of her hands part the pouting hair pie. Inside it was pale and wet, steaming with mucus and juices. The first lick was hot and tart. He buried himself inside her.
He still felt her hand around his face. He knew she wanted to get real hot as he felt her frig her aching clit. Her body heaved on his, her thick tits tickling his hairy stomach. Her sucking was now impassioned-she chewed hungrily at his slightly flagging pecker.
As gushers of love juice flowed across his face, Dane could feel himself getting harder.
Judy could feel it too. She wanted that cock inside her, and though his licking was about to throw her into orgasm, the cock was what her womb begged for. As Dane's tongue slipped down into her, she could feel its tip cut a swath across her inner tissues. The way his teeth lightly scratched her prominent cunt lips made the folds flutter and itch. Only that shaft would satisfy her cravings.
She knew he was ready when his pecker began to shove at her throat again. The very first jab made her reel. She took the throbbing member out and began to lick it lengthwise. The very thought of him inside her made her ardently wet him to ease his entry. Her whole insides seemed to heave at the idea, and with another few flicks of her clit she was writhing on Dane's face, wild with orgasm.
Her climaxing excited Dane, whose cock now rose full and hard, stretching at the skin. He brought his hands around and grabbed at her tits, palming the red nipples. From the way Judy jumped, he knew she was hotter than hell.
Dane rolled the heaving girl off him and set her down. She kept her legs spread wide, and with panting chest and begging eyes she looked up at him.
"Fuck me damnit!!" she implored. Her hand still rested on her mound, and she brought it down and shoved it into her steamy slit.
Dane crawled over and helped her up. They hugged for a minute. As he soaked up the tickling pleasure of her tight nipples heaving and scratching at his chest, she just moaned as she felt the steely rod push against her soft stomach. Soon, if she could take him, he'd be that far inside her.
"What you need, my dear," said Dane, "is the executive treatment." He walked her over to his swivel chair behind the desk and sat down. Then he beckoned Judy to climb aboard.
The sight of that massive throbber sitting there made her weak, almost faint. She fell into his arms and climbed on his lap. Then she let her legs down and faced him, her legs straddling his crotch with her feet on the floor.
Judy was able to raise or lower herself, giving her a chance to control and feel the full length of his incredible thickness as it pierced her writhing, burning center.
The first touch made her start. Dane was so big she could barely put him through the portal. His head slipped in but when she reached the full thickness there was a tug. She squirmed again and he broke through with a jab that sent dizzying rushes to her head. Each inch of that pecker burned up her womb. She swallowed him tightly.
Her arms were around her waist and his wet lips massaged her tits. They were tits of a fine size, round and juicy but without a hint of sag. The skin was pulled tight around the muscle and tissues, and tiny red dots were accentuated by pert little nipples.
Dane took in the whole areola, chewing at the puckered skin and slapping the nipple with his teeth. She wiggled her chest in pleasure as he did it, first to one tit, then the other.
She was red-faced and out of breath with excitement. She now had him almost all the way inside her, and she could feel the hard shaft approaching the depth of her womb. She wiggled her hips and bent her knees, dropping her bottom in his lap and shoving his pecker up inside her so deep it stretched the wet walls of her womb. With that she knocked out into another frenzy of successive climaxes, building, dropping and building again until her consciousness was flooded by the effect of the throbber inside her.
She thrust up and down, going as hard as she could, loving the feel of hardness penetrating and then scathing her sheath. The soft folded flesh of her aroused cunt felt numb.
Inside her, her muscles went crazy. They hugged at his thickness, then just fell weakly apart. With the climax they snapped around his tool even harder.
Then he was throbbing too, pumping hot gallons of fluid into her waiting warmth, his face buried in the valley between her beautiful round melons.
Judy fell off him onto the floor. She lay there on her stomach as she heard Dane make a call on the intercom.
"Hold my calls and cancel my appointments," he announced. "I'm in a high-level conference for the rest of the afternoon and I'm not to be interrupted."
Judy wanted more sex. She wiggled her bottom up at Dane and moaned.
"Come here, you big fucker," Judy said. "Take me here on the rug like an animal. Let's see how liberated you really are."
That only aroused Dane more. His cock was sticky with a mix of juices, but still hard as a steel girder. He was going to give it all to Judy-every last bit she begged for. He was a cocksman who rose to the challenge.
He dropped onto the floor and grabbed her hips, pulling her thighs up to his sword. Then he dipped the pecker in her honey pot, first shallowly twisting it to soak up the profusion of juices, then deep. He shoved her down onto him, and when he pulled out his cock was coated.
Then he leaned over and spread her cheeks. His mouth buried itself busily in her bunghole. He slathered the sphincter up, pushing his tongue down the tight slot to loosen her up-soon he felt it twisting away just a tiny bit. He knew it was time to enter.
He brought up his cock to the portal, jabbing it in, Judy jumped and howled.
"OOOOOHHHHHH DANE!!!" she cried. "SLIP THAT SHAFT UP MY ASS!!! I DON'T CARE IF IT HURTS!!!"
To her surprise it pleasured her more than it pained. Her ass slid open to accept him rather well, tightening up like a fist every inch or so it took inside, but then uncoiling to admit the muscular cock just a little further.
Soon it was deep in her rear, pushing at the wall of her womb from the other side. He pulled it out and her ass muscles seemed to sigh. On the jab back in they screamed with the same passion as her mouth.
"A A A A A AAA A A A A A A A A A!!!!" she wailed. Dane just kept ass-fucking her hard until his jizm burst in her backside and she lay down in a heap.
But that was not all. They fucked the rest of the day and into the evening. She left there with a split but satisfied crotch.