Chapter 2
Margo the Nymph: A Lesson in Sex
Tony walked into the bathroom unbuttoning his shirt. It was well after midnight and he was dead tired. He'd had to drive all the way to Miami after Race had bought more liquor and gotten stinking drunk. Dobber's shakes were worse and Tony had been afraid to trust him behind the wheel. They had arrived in Miami a half hour ago and Tony checked them into the first motel he saw. It was a nice place, fronting on the beach. Tony had taken two adjoining apartments, one for Race and Margo, the other for Dobber and himself.
Tony peeled off his shirt and turned on the water in the shower. He walked to the lavatory and took a bar of soap out of the medicine chest. He looked at his face in the mirror. He needed a shave, but he hadn't even had time to pack a razor. He smoothed a hand through his thick, rumpled black hair. A girl had once told him he looked like Richard Conte and sometimes he found himself putting on the actor's cocky, self-confident air. But Tony was stockier, his shoulders broader than the star's. Tony's eyes were dark and his smooth, sleek skin had the dusky hue of his Italian ancestors.
Tony unbuttoned his trousers, skinned them down. He stepped out of his shorts and climbed into the steaming shower, closing the glass door to the stall. He peeled the wrapper off the soap and lathered his broad, muscular chest. The hot water felt good on his tired muscles.
A light tap sounded at the door. Tony frowned. He'd left Dobber passed out on the couch. Tony closed the water and reached for the latch of the fogged shower door. He heard the bathroom door open.
"Tony?" It was Margo's voice.
Tony's pulse began to pick up speed. "I'm in the shower, Margo."
He heard the door close. "Mind if I use your bathroom, sweetheart? I want to wash my hair and Race has tossed up his guts all over ours. God, what a mess."
Tony leaned over to the frosted door and wiped away a little patch of the fog. "Sure, Margo."
Tony's pulse stepped up to a faster clip. Margo was wearing only her red silk panties and bra. She'd let her hair down and the blonde tresses fell well past her shoulders. She was carrying a bottle of shampoo. Tony watched as she put the bottle on the lavatory, then ran a basin of water. Margo's build looked even better in the light than it had in the gloom of the car. God, she was a sexy broad. Her lush curves stretched the red silk tight.
Margo glanced at the shower. "I'll bet you're tired from all that driving."
"A little." Tony turned the shower back on, but kept an eye near his peephole. Margo bent over, wetting her hair in the basin. Her large breasts overflowed the bra, until it seemed only the nipples were hanging inside.
Tony lathered his body vigorously. He'd never fooled with another man's woman, but hell, he couldnt take much more of this.
Margo's ample breasts jiggled in the loose bra as she lathered her hair. She opened the faucet and turned sideways as she rinsed off the lather. In the bright light, her panties were almost transparent, a misty golden triangle showing through the thin silk.
Tony rinsed off the lather and closed the shower. Margo squeezed the water from her hair and flicked a towel off the rack. She glanced at the shower door and smiled. "What's the matter, Tony, are you too embarrassed to come out?"
Tony's hand touched the door latch, then he hesitated. "Throw me a towel, will you, Margo?"
Margo laughed, then tossed a towel over the shower door. "Chicken!" she called, then made the sounds of a clucking hen.
Tony dried himself, his hands nervous. Was she going to get the hell out, or stand there and wait for him to come out? He finished, wrapped the towel around his lean loins and opened the door.
She was standing by the lavatory, hands on curving hips, watching him with that familiar naughty twinkle in her cat-green eyes. "Sa-a-a-y, you have a gorgeous build, Tony. I'll bet you even look better without that towel."
Tony felt his ears burn. He shuffled, feeling awkward. She smiled and took a step toward him. She thrust out a slender, tapering leg and rocked her hips from side to side. "What do you think of my build, sweetheart?"
Tony gulped, breathing hard. "It it's very good. But you're Race's girl," he added hurriedly.
Margo tossed back wet strands of hair and laughed. "Is that what's stopping you? Well, Race couldn't care less. He even fixes me up with other guys. We're sort of business partners. You really like my build?"
Tony nodded, reddening. The smell of liquor was heavy on her breath.
Margo smoothed her hands down her hips and across her slightly curved tummy. "I used to be in burlesque, you know. Would you like me to strip for you?"
Before Tony could answer, she turned her back to him, raised her arms toward the ceiling and ground her hips. Her buttocks flexed under the tight silk. She glanced back over her shoulder and smiled. "I could do better with music."
Tony felt awkward standing there, so he sat down on the edge of the commode. He couldn't take his eyes off her.
She bent over and grasped her ankles, moving her legs up and down pneumatically. Her ripe buttocks, on a level with his face, jiggled alluringly.
Smiling impishly, she raised and turned slowly to face him. She rolled her shoulders and her breasts rose and fell heavily inside her bra. She turned her back to him. "Unhook me, will you Tony?"
Tony reached out like a mechanical man who'd had his button pressed. He fumbled with the bra, finally got it unhooked. She turned sideways to him and shook her shoulders. The straps crept off her shoulders. The bra snagged on her nipples. She turned fully toward him, took a deep breath and expanded her breasts. They popped out of the bra, jutting out at Tony like loaded 38's. They were lush and creamy with tan nipples that looked like delicious pecans topping giant vanilla cupcakes. Tony's throat closed and he stopped breathing.
Margo looked down at him, eyes half closed, savoring the lust in his face. "Look at me, Tony. Look at my breasts. Aren't they beautiful?" She stroked them and fingered the tan nipples. Her teasing mischievousness was gone, her voice throaty, passionate. She was breathing heavily, perspiration glistening between her breasts. She ran a pink tongue over her lips. "You make me hot, Tony baby." She looked down at his toweled loins. "And you want me, too, don't you, Tony?"
Tony lurched forward and filled his hands with the soft, hot flesh of her breasts. He buried his face in them and kissed the silken flesh. God! God! God! What a woman! He found a nipple with his lips and outlined it with his tongue. It curled into a little hard orb, thrusting forward excitedly like a ripe cherry ready for picking. Margo embraced his neck, pulling his head into her breasts, smothering him in the hot, throbbing flesh. Her fingers plucked at the knot in his towel and it dropped away. Her hands explored his hot body. "Oh you do want me badly, God, do you want me!"
A fury, fired by passion, tore loose in Tony. She had teased and taunted him long enough. Now it was his turn. He kissed her lips hungrily, their tongues touching, curling together. Her hot, elastic breasts pressed against the hard muscles of his chest. His hands slid down her back to her sassy buttocks, cupped them and massaged. She bit his ear lobe. "Oh God, Tony, I'm hot. Lay me! Hurt me!"
Muscles corded in his strong arms and he lifted her, hands on her buttocks. Her long legs encircled his waist, locked. He bent her back onto the tile floor. Her hands went to the elastic of her red panties, pulling them down. He stripped the pants down her legs and hurled them aside. He stroked the smooth skin of her inner thighs, the way he had dreamed of a few hours before. His hand worked higher and Margo spread her legs, squirming on the tile. Her arms reached up and pulled him down. Her mouth was hot and moist on his, then her heat and glutinous moistness permeated his lower body.
The fury of his pent up frustrations and passions drove Tony's loins like a pneumatic battering ram. He'd teach the bitch to tease him!
"Oh Lord, honey ... Lord!" Margo groaned. Her long legs inched up his thighs and locked about his waist like the coils of a python. His loins were vicious, yet she absorbed his strokes, her hips and buttocks rising from the tiled floor to roll and thrust back. The animal sounds of their coupling filled the small room heavy breathing, little grunts and moans, the glutinous, fleshy sounds of their sweating bodies meshing and parting. A burning rose in Tony's loins, like molten lava bubbling upward. His loins slashed down viciously.
"Oh Lord," Margo moaned, "I can feel you everywhere." Tony heard a cry and realized it was coming from his own lips.
"No, not yet," Margo whispered huskily. Her hands reached down, and sharp pain stabbed into Tony's lower being, dulling the edge of his passion. He squirmed in agony, trying to pull away from her strong hands and sharp nails. He tore free of her cruel fingers and his body heaved down on her, more brutally than before. "Oh ... oh ... oh!" she cried. "Gallop, wild stallion, gallop ... and buck . . and buck ... and I'll ride you ... Goddamn you!"
Her hot sweating buttocks rose six inches off the tile to meet his thrusting body, her burning tummy slapping against his. Her eyes were closed, lips parted. Perspiration ran down her breasts and hips in little streams. Her breasts seemed taut with bursting inner pressure that pushed them up and out. Her arms coiled about his neck, nails slicing into his back. "Oh ... oh ... almost!" she cried. Her long legs closed tighter on his waist: a python crushing the bones of its victim, squeezing out the blood. His hands were on her buttocks, pinching, massaging. She moved them to her breasts. "Oh, Tony!" she cried. "Hurt me! Squeeze me! Twist them! Bite them! Torture me!" Muscles bulged in Tony's forearms as his fingers bit into the soft flesh. He twisted the breasts cruelly until the tan nipples seemed about to pop out of the hot flesh. "Oh Oh! Oh!" she cried. He leaned down and took a lush nipple into his mouth and bit it. He could feel a pressure building in her lower tummy like a balloon inflating. A strangling, guttural cry parted her lips and her body arched up a foot off the floor. Her stomach went crazy under him, breaking into spasms of hiccups. Shafts of fire burned his loins again: lava bubbling to the surface of a volcano. This time there was no holding it back. Tony's muscles rippled and corded under his sleek tan skin. His lower body plunged down in one last great thrust, then broke into ecstatic spasms. She rode him, slender, sensuous legs squeezing, demanding more, her burning, nipping pressure draining every last ounce of strength from him hungrily.
Tony sank down on her, breathing hard. He could feel the strong drumming of her heart against his chest. They lay there gasping, savoring the glutinous, warm aftermath of each other's body.
Finally Tony raised and turned his body slowly, reluctantly breaking their warm bond. He lay down beside her on the cool, damp tile, reached out and took one of her hot, moist breasts in his hand, massaged it lightly. He noticed several minute, circular scars near the nipple.
Margo opened her eyes and studied him through heavy lids. She smiled. "God, I feel like I've been raped by a tornado. You make love like a wild man."
"You had me all fired up. That'll teach you to tease, damn you."
She reached out and stroked his biceps. "I enjoyed it, though. And I guess I did have it coming." She glanced at him impishly, then laughed. She moved her hand to his shoulder. "I'll teach you other ways. Slow ways that'll make you pass out. I like to teach young guys. They're always so cooperative. They'll do anything I tell them. The older guys well most of them are only interested in their own kicks."
Tony's gaze lowered to her creamy tummy. "I thought you were one of those peroxide blondes, Margo. You're the first real blonde I've ever "
She laughed, pinching his shoulder playfully. "How many girls have you thrilled, Tony? Three? Four? You're inexperienced, but I know damn well you're not a virgin."
Tony looked away in embarrassment. "Six maybe, but they were all brunettes."
Margo leaned close to his ear. "I'll tell you a secret, Tony," she whispered. "I'm really a brunette, and it stings like hell to make myself a one hundred per cent blonde."
Margo giggled and sat up abruptly, her large breasts vibrating. Her eyes flicked down the length of his naked body. "God, you've got a nice build. You look like Tarzan. How did you get all those muscles so young?"
"Tossing around crates on the dock, I guess." Tony's chest expanded in pride. He felt as if someone had pinned a medal on him. She was all woman every last curving inch of her. And he made love to her and she had enjoyed it.
Margo rose, picked up a fuzzy bath mat, rolled it and placed it under his head. "You rest, get your strength back, sweetheart. There'll be another time for us. Lots of times, if we're lucky, and I want to be lucky with you. I really do."
Gently as a mother, she kissed him on the forehead, smiled, turned, then was gone. Tony let her go. The cool of the floor would soothe him, he thought, and perhaps sleep would take him and black out the present the present of Race and Margo and Dobber, the present that he sensed would lead to nothing but trouble. But now he wouldn't think about it now he would rest.
He turned on his side and promptly fell asleep. Dreams invaded. They were all vicious as if they were meant as a warning, one that he should but could not heed.
It was as Tony awoke that he heard the door to the other apartment open and close. Someone, probably Margo, had left the apartment. He remained still for several long minutes, feeling the new coolness that had come to his body. It made him remember the heat of Margo, that and his own heat as he had given himself to her. Finally, he forced the memory from his mind.
Tony arose from the floor. He felt shaky. His knees were suddenly like wet sponges. His calves were red and marked from threshing on the hard tile.
Slowly, he walked into the other room. There were shades of light that told him he had slept longer than he had thought. And there was his friend, Dobber, flat on the bed and snoring.
Tony walked over to the couch. He flopped on it and fell into a deep slumber that was akin to death in its exhausted soundness.