Chapter 10
Joy spent a sleepless night. She couldn't get Janine McLane out of her mind. There was almost a compulsion in the desire to see Bart's daughter.
The next day, she tried to dismiss Janine from her mind. She tried reading; it bored her. Finally, she dressed and left the suite. Without realizing what she was doing, she hailed a cab and gave the driver Janine's address. A half hour later she knocked on a door a the top of a long flight of stairs. A voice, "Come in."
Joy hesitated, then opened the door. Janine, was standing in front of a canvas, working on a painting.
"You did come," she exclaimed. "Come on in."
Joy stepped through the doorway. She hesitated when she saw a giant of a youth posing with arms bent. He was tanned to a deep bronze and except for the narrowest of loin cloths, he was naked. A dark-haired girl lounged in a chair by the window, sipping a glass of wine.
"I didn't mean to interfere with your work," Joy said.
"You're not. This is Renauld. He poses for me. And Marie." Janine waved toward the girl at the window. Then she said something rapidly in French, and the youth and the girl started for the door.
Joy protested, again, as the pair left. "I should have called you, first."
"Nonsense, we don't have any formalities around here. Hell, I don't even have a phone." Janine swept some clothes off an old divan. "Sit down, I'll get us some wine." She paused, "Don't mind the looks of the joint. It's always a mess. Renauld never hangs anything up."
Joy gave her a quick look, Janine was as much as admitting the tall youth lived there. But, then he could be her husband. ill Janine caught the look and laughed. "Renauld and Marie share the apartment with me. It's convenient to have him handy to pose. We all share around here. Sometimes this place is like Grand Central Station." She rustled through a cabinet and came up with a bottle and glasses. It isn't as good a wine as you offer, but it's the best we can afford around here."
Joy accepted the glass of wine. She found herself staring at Janine. The girl was wearing an old pair of paint spotted denims, so tight that they outlined the panties she wore underneath. The rest of her attire was a blouse, unbuttoned, the bottom tied carelessly together above a bare midriff. It seemed a miracle that her bold out-thrust breasts didn't break free of the confines of the blouse.
Averting her eyes, Joy suddenly felt self-conscious. Still, she couldn't control the tremble that coursed through her veins. It was crazy. She was thinking of Vicky Neale.
And then she knew what it had been at the hotel, what she hadn't been able to understand there. The way Janine had looked at her, the same way Vicky Neale studied her. The thought came, and Joy decided it was ridiculous. Still, she couldn't quiet the desire that forced a tremble.
"We live and let live," Janine was saying. "If more people did that, there wouldn't be any need for wars. Trouble is that people are always afraid of what someone else has to say."
Joy laughed as the words broke through her thoughts. "You're quite a philosopher," she said.
"What you really think is that I'm a little crazy. I guess I am. Only, I get sick of people trying to prove something for some one else's benefit other than their own."
"That ... that isn't so crazy," Joy found herself saying. She was having trouble taking her eyes off Janine's swaying breasts.
Janine was aware of Joy's interest. She hadn't been sure at the hotel, but Joy Lansing had come. And now Janine wanted to laugh. This was her Dad's woman. That made it all the more exciting.
It went beyond that. Hatred was there, a tense hatred for her father that mixed with the desire. Janine had never forgiven him his escapades, the reason for her mother's early death. Yes, revenge could be sweet. The pleasures of the lovely creature staring at her would make it more so.
"Are you going to let me paint you?" Janine asked.
"Is it that important?" Joy looked at her and smiled. Janine was so close. Her perfume assailed Joy's nostrils. The urge to reach out and touch those delectable breasts brought a sweat to Joy's palms.
Suddenly, Joy knew. And she was aware that Janine did too. Still, she held back. In her mind was the knowledge that this was Bart's daughter. The thought offered a deterrent.
But it was Janine who took the initiative.
"You came. I know why, Joy," she whispered. Her hands reached, cupped Joy's breasts. At the same time, her lips found Joy's mouth, her tongue darting between the lips. Then, she pulled free for a moment. "We want each other, don't we?" she said.
Joy stared at her. Her throat went dry. Desire burned in her. The taste of Janine's lips had renewed an old fire she had thought was dead.
Janine undid the knot of her blouse. Her breasts sprung free, bold and challenging. She caressed them, sensuously for Joy's benefit.
Joy went numb with the overwhelming desire. They were so lovely, so full, the coral tips erect, centered in the satiny flesh.
Janine moved closer, hovered over Joy. "Kiss them, bite them, it's what you want to do," she cried.
Joy hesitated. She lifted her face to Janine's. The blue eyes, deep pools like her father's, were tense and challenging. There was no longer any need for words.
Closing her eyes, Joy leaned forward, her mouth starting an exploration of the hard nipples. A dormant hunger swept through her. There was ecstasy in the succulence of the warm vibrant breasts. Reason fled, lost to desire. Joy felt Janine start to tremble. She ran her hands up the inside of Janine's slender legs and thighs.
"Wait," Janine cried out. Her fingers undid her denims, and she started to ease them down her thighs. Joy helped her.
The moment they were free, Joy renewed her caresses. Janine's thighs were so soft and yet so firm. The white columns throbbed to her touch, moved forward to seek more. Joy sank to her knees, stared up, hungered at the creamy flesh that was about to be hers.
Janine caught her fingers in Joy's hair. "You, too. I want to see you," she cried out. Her fingers worked at Joy's clothes. Impatient at the delay, Joy almost tore them off.
Then, free of them, the girls swept into each other's arms, breast pulsating against breast, thigh churning against thigh. The gentleness gave way to violence as they searched for the first wild surge of passion.
It lasted only for a moment. Then Janine became the aggressor. Anxious, she did away with preliminaries.
Joy sobbed as the burning mouth found her center of love. She was unaware of the greediness of the attack. Legs arching, they parted to accept a love that had been long too dormant.
The sensations were exquisite, unbearable, driving her wild. Compared to Vicky Neale, Janine was overpowering. The hot lips never rested; her fingers were electric shocks, adding to the maddening flight into ecstasy.
Joy twisted and cried out. Shudders racked her body as nerve endings felt a litany of sensation. And there was no stopping Janine. She was insatiable in her lust.
Finally, she pulled free and stared at Joy. A smile creased her mouth as she saw Joy's twitching face, the still moving hips.
"Love me," she demanded. "It's your turn." The coldness in her voice went unnoticed by Joy.
Joy was far too excited and hungry. The lovely body, the full sweeping breasts were all she could see. Yet, it was still Janine who held command.
Her slender body went taut, then rose with disciplined responsiveness.
Writhing, with wanton abandon, she cried out, "Don't stop. Don't ever stop."
Joy felt the fires mount. The sobs of delight erupting from Janine spurred her on. To please her new-found lover became an obsession. She labored at the task.
"You're wonderful," Janine laughed as it finally came to an end. "We're perfect for each other."
Joy stared at her. Passion was still alive in the blue eyes. Janine's wondrous breasts were quivering, fascinating. Thoughts rose in conflict, little doubts that frightened Joy. God, I am Lesbian.
Living with Bart, she had almost forgotten Vicky Neale, but now. She knew that she had never really felt anything with him. Even the feeling of sudden guilt couldn't counter that. She was unaware that she was frowning.
Janine noticed it, though. "Thinking about Bart, Darling? It is crazy, isn't it? He pays the way and you find pleasure with his daughter."
Joy stared at her, searched for something to say. The words wouldn't come.
Janine went on, "Tell me you want me, that you don't want Bart any more," she said. "Tell me." Her voice was demanding.
Suddenly, Joy found her senses. She was seeing Vicky Neale, again, that afternoon when she had walked in on Vicky with the dark-haired girl.
She shook her head. "I like what I have with Bart. I'm sorry, Janine. This afternoon should never have happened."
"But it did happen." Janine smiled. "You were hungry and I satisfied your hunger. Why not admit you enjoyed it. Let yourself be free."
"I'm not going to argue with you," Joy said. "And I'm not going to throw away what I have with Bart for this."
"And if he finds out? Bart is a proud man. He doesn't like to be crossed. Don't forget he is my father, and I know him."
"Are you threatening me? Do you intend to tell him?"
Janine laughed. "I don't I think I'll have to, precious." Her hand trailed up the inside of Joy's thigh.
Joy trembled at the touch. She was angry at herself and yet she couldn't control the rise of passion. Reason fled as Janine's mouth teased her breasts and the lips burned.
Triumphantly, Janine forced the attack until there was no resistance left. Joy started to sob and moan as the ecstasy rose higher and higher.
"Please, please," she cried out. "Yes, Darling, I know I know what you need," Janine replied.