Chapter 2
Burton Chadwick was a good driver, and Highway 30 was a good road, but he was slightly more tense behind the wheel now than on all the other occasions which required him to drive in the mountains.
For one thing, although he was familiar and at ease with the smooth control of the big Mercury Marquis station wagon, this was the first time he had demanded so much of it. The mobile home behind the hitch was quite large and offered considerable air resistance. His mountain driving had been confined to sports cars or town sedans with no additional loads attached.
But even though he concentrated more than usual on the road and the traffic, he had time for other thoughts. Especially when he had to pull off the road on one of the turnouts to let swifter traffic pass. As an old racing buff, Chadwick usually drove the fastest cars, and he always felt a slight twinge of humiliation when he had to extend this road courtesy.
Yet he would not have it otherwise on this particular trip. For having this mobile home with them meant that the Chadwicks would live a little more luxuriously on location than those who were assigned to studio portables. And Burton Chadwick had retained enough of his British background to appreciate the privacy and convenience of bringing his own environment with him.
Besides, he rather enjoyed the extra freedoms it gave him. He was "on his own property" the minute he stepped inside his quarters, and could do whatever he wished. Like the barbecues he had thrown for the casts on the previous two pictures.
And then there was Lisa. If he had accepted a studio portable, no matter how much more elaborately furnished than the others-and it would have been quite lavish for Lisa's sake, if not for his own-he would have felt that he was living with the star of the picture. In his own caravan he was master, and even if his wife was Cara Lisa, darling import find of the decade, it would be she who lived with him.
He saw the Running Springs sign and took the ramp into the town, slowing to twenty miles per hour and throwing the transmission into normal driving range. The reduced speed of the engine made the air conditioning seem louder and he realized that the wind coming in the aperture of the slightly open vent was now quite pleasant. He switched off the conditioner and listened to the healthy hum of the motor as he pulled to a stop on the shoulder of the road.
Across the road a sign in Nordic script spelled out Lloyd's. This was the restaurant he had been told would surprise him. In this mountain community of a few hundred permanent residents, it did not seem likely that there would be enough patronage to support an eating establishment of the quality promised. But he would soon find out.
"Lisa?" he spoke her name softly, then kissed her forehead. She came awake easily, simply, with no dramatics and no fuss. One moment she had been sleeping the healthy sleep of youth; the next she was wide awake, bright-eyed and smiling. It never ceased to amaze him.
"Are we here already?" she asked, looking around her like a child who wonders where the Christmas tree might be.
"Yes, and just in time," he told her. "I could eat a bloody elephant right now." He got out of the car and went around to open her door.
They had to wait for four cars, a pickup camper and a highway patrol cruiser before the road was clear. Then they crossed the highway and started into a doorway. Lisa tugged on his arm as he stepped inside.
"Wait. This is a coffee shop," she told him. "There's another door." He let her maneuver him down the walk and into another doorway which led into a short foyer. To the right was a well appointed bar area, tastefully decorated. Ahead of them was a dining room.
"Good-oh!" he said. "Let's have a libation to relax us." He took her elbow and guided her into the bar area where they found a cozy spot not too far from the enclosure where a young man was just beginning to do things at the keyboard of an organ.
A waitress took their orders, and soon Lisa was sipping a daiquiri while Burton tasted a Scotch and soda. They asked the waitress about a table in the dining room and were told there was a fifteen minute wait, so they reserved a table and relaxed to the lilting organ music.
While they started their second drinks Burton realized that the selection being played was Mono Lisa, and that it was the third piece in a row with an Italian flavor.
"Either the organist is a paisan or he's one of your fans," he told Lisa. She turned her head and met the organist's smiling gaze. When he dipped his head in a token of dedication, Lisa smiled and bowed her own head to him, then blew him a kiss.
The waitress arrived to tell them their table was ready, and they took their drinks into the dining room. When they were seated and picking up their menus, Burton saw Bob Samuels at a table across the room. Samuels was Gurney Adams' manager and an inveterate table hopper. Burton groaned when he saw that Samuels had spotted them and was rising from his own table to cross over to theirs.
"Hi, Chadwicks," he greeted them as he neared their corner table.
"And I thought we were arriving early," Burton told him.
"Arriving? I'm about ready to leave. Just having a final meal. Had to scout around and locate a few things for Gurney. Got 'em all set, so I'll be on my way down in a little while. Say, you people ought to try the northern catfish they serve here. It's out of this world. Well, take care. I have to get a move on."
He tossed a salute to Lisa and headed for the cashier. The Chadwicks watched him exit and heaved a pair of relieved sighs. Neither of them disliked Samuels, but he could bore anyone to tears with his usually idle chatter.
Samuels was right about the catfish, though. They decided to try it and were ecstatic over its flavor and moist texture. And the salad and baked potato were perfect. Burton decided that he had not been the victim of exaggeration. Lloyd's had quality food. But they were eager to get settled for the night, so they ate more hurriedly than usual and soon were driving out of town toward the big camp where they were to do most of their shooting and where living quarters would be set up for the company.
The advance people were there and the facilities were all set up, but the portable housing units would not arrive until the next day. The studio roustabouts helped park and level the Chadwick unit and open the awning which created a shady patio. Several of them then put up a canvas shelter for the station wagon while the rest hooked up electrical and plumbing connections.
By the time all was quiet and the Chadwicks found themselves alone in their mobile mountain home, both were quite exhausted. But they managed to shower and get ready for bed, and Burton built them a pair of drinks. They sat on the edge of the bed sipping at their icy brandy crustas and smiling happily at each other.
They had not counted on the increased potency of alcohol at high altitudes. Earlier, they had been up-tight and had followed their drinks with food. But now, relaxed, primed by the earlier drinks and reinforced by a generous double portion of brandy, they began to mellow and forget their tiredness.
"We have tonight all to ourselves," Lisa said suddenly. Her tone implied she had just discovered a monumental surprise. Her moist eyes and pouting lips told him how she wanted to make use of their night together.
Burton had doubts about his lasting power at that moment. But he was encouraged by the false confidence the brandy had infused into his blood. And few men could have resisted the charms of Cara Lisa under almost any conditions.
The soft silk of her glistening brunette coiffure surrounded a perfect complexion of faintly tanned olive cream. Her patrician nose and full, ripe lips were charms unto themselves, as were her liquid, expressive brown eyes.
Sitting on the bed, her none-too-concealing negligee pulled carelessly up into her lap to reveal thighs of the same color and texture as her face, she made Burton fall in love with her all over again.
When he had met her, courted her and married her, she was Lisa Maria Donati, a budding actress in Rome. He had groomed her, chosen her screen test material, coached her, and signed her up with his own manager and agent. She had burst on the public as Cara Lisa, Italian sex kitten of the silver screen, and her first three films had made her a box office hit.
It was her childlike genuineness that appealed to almost everyone. And for those who were interested only in sexual beauty, she presented a female perfection that stopped just short of fantasy. Her earthiness was so natural, so untouched by phoniness and hypocrisy, that she could have done or said almost anything without offending. It was this quality that had recommended her so strongly to audiences in an era when most bars had been let down on screen censorship.
Burton Chadwick knew how fortunate he was to have her for his own. But he was not possessive by nature, and he took joy in seeing her marvelous qualities bring excitement to others.
"Well?" she whispered. The front of her negligee opened as she leaned forward to peer into his face and the beauteous fullness of one olive cream breast thrust proudly into view. He could see the pinkness of the tiny marsh mallow shape that was her nipple. He groaned and reached for her.
"Oh, Burt!" she breathed as his hands closed over her shoulders and slid the negligee downward. She still pronounced his name "Boort" after all this time; it was one of the few English inaccuracies she had never conquered, but it had an exotic sound that he liked.
His mouth found a nipple and sucked it in. His tongue and lips toyed with it lovingly, hungrily, making her breath come in little gasps as she uttered his name endearingly over and over.
He avidly sucked the other nipple, and when he had both erected to alarming proportions, he lip-nibbled his way down over her smooth belly and into the dark feathers that covered her mound. He had long since pulled the folds of her negligee aside and now he grasped her thighs and moved them tenderly apart to expose his goal.
He knew her meticulous cleanliness and he had seen her come out of the shower only minutes before. Yet, as he saw the black silk of her pubic hair part to reveal the swelling lips it hid, he noted the unbelievable wetness of her. She was creaming like mad and he had barely started to make love to her.
"Oh, Lisa!" he groaned, overcome with the lusty power of his desire for her. "Cara mia, I hunger for you so!" his voice was husky to the point of hoarseness as his throat tightened with passion.
His head moved into her crotch and his lips caressed the moist warmth of her desire-thickened labia. The muskiness of her female juices filled his nostrils and he groaned again, joyful with the scent and taste of her. His tongue flicked out and caressed down the inner side of one vertical lip and up the other, gathering the juice of her excitement.
"Burt! Oh, you eat me so nice!" she cried out.
Then, remembering how he had praised her juiciness at other times, telling her how much he enjoyed consuming it, she gasped out more words as he licked and sucked at her cunt.
"I'm making more... love cream for you... Daddy Burt... Drink all you want... Oh-h-h!" He had found her clitoris with his eager tongue and now he flicked it rapidly, vibrating its firm little tip until she squealed with glee. Her passion quickly reached a point where she would remain for quite a while before climbing toward her orgasm.
"Oh, Burt!... give me your cock... please!... You make-a me so... hungry to taste-a your cock-a!" In her excitement she fell into more careless pronunciation of typical Italian accents.
Burton did not want to risk what might happen if she began to suck him now, for he knew he could not make it more than once the way he felt. But she was pulling at his shoulders almost frantically, moaning her anxiety and hungers. He could not deny her.
Slowly, trying not to lose his contact with the juicy tender pussy, he swivelled and writhed, working his way around to reverse his position. He barely got his legs on either side of her arms when she grabbed his rigid cock and put it between her lips.
Burton groaned again as her mouth created voluptuous sensations in his balls and belly, and he dived back deeply into her flowing cunt, lapping and licking voraciously at the never-ending pool of her lubricant as it oozed over her quivering flesh. He switched frequently to her hard little clit and greedily sucked its cloaked shaft. But no more greedily than she was sucking him.
She had one hand cupped lovingly around his balls, tickling the taut sac slowly. The other hand encircled his shaft at the base and her mouth moved constantly, engulfing the length up to her tiny fist at each stroke. He knew she was climbing, finally, when her hips drove upward to meet his hungry eating motions, and he could tell she was moaning around the fleshy cylinder in her mouth.
He moved his own hips, screwing into her fist and mouth with frantic but gentle strokes. Then she tightened her thighs around his head as she began to climax, and he felt his own loins start to tingle.
He sucked in her juices rapidly and thrust his cock deep into her mouth as his semen burst loose. She gulped and sucked as his fluid spewed heavily, swallowing as rapidly as he could spurt. His spasms ceased, and he was ready to flop over and collapse. But Lisa's orgasmic pulses continued, and she-reacted by sucking and tightening her lips around his cock at every shuddering convulsion of her vagina and uterus.
"Lisa!" he cried, lifting his mouth from its feast. "Please!"
She relaxed her grip on him and he rolled off to lie beside her. He barely had the strength to move, but he managed to kiss her nearest foot in gratitude.
"My husband... makes love... very beautifully," she gasped.
"And my wife's... lovemaking... like everything... else about her... is also very beautiful," Burton panted.
She kissed his knee as she turned to move herself nearer to one side of the bed. Then she patted his leg affectionately.
"Turn around, Burt. Come up here and lie close to me."
He groaned, exaggerating only slightly the exhaustion he felt, and crawled into his proper sleeping position. His panting was all quite real, and as he lay there hip-to-hip with Lisa, holding her hand in his, he was reminded of his huffing and puffing on a memorable day in the Italian Alps. Lisa's hand had been in his then, also, and he had made love to her on his trenchcoat with only pine needles for a mattress. What a wild piece that had been!
He recalled that, strangely enough, as he screwed into the delightful juiciness of Lisa's cunt, he had thought about June Bough ton, his secretary-aide, who had affected him so much before she rejected his advances. Now he was thinking again of June, and wondering if ever she would open the door to him. He still had a healthy curiosity about what it would be like to screw her.
Lisa would not be angry if he were to take advantage of such an opportunity; she was no more possessive than he. Nothing could destroy what they had between them.
He often wondered if ever she had screwed another man since their marriage. In these days of the Pill, a genuinely warm and uncomplicated animal like Lisa might be expected to do so. He felt surprise as his cock hardened slightly when he thought of her being plumbed by another man's plunging prick.
Well, if there ever would be opportunities for extramarital sex for either of them, this mountain location should provide them! Not only were there any number of swingers in the company, but from what he had seen and heard in Lloyd's, the local citizens were far from being bucolic rurals.
He let his thoughts turn to June, again. He really would like to get into her blonde nest! And he was pretty certain that she was a swinger at heart...
Lisa was having her own fantasies as she lay quietly relaxed and held her husband's hand. She was aware that Burton's recuperative powers were at least temporarily diminished, and she suspected that it might take quite a while for him to overcome the effects of the drastic change in altitude.
She was susceptible to the thin atmosphere, too. But she was sure that it would not affect her sexual drive and capabilities as much as if she were a man.
In fact, if she had not known Burton was completely drained, she would have spurred him to further performances after the magnificent experience they had just had.
She wondered if Gurney Adams would be coming up in the morning. It was probable? Gurney usually was not far behind his manager in reaching a shooting location, she knew. And Gurney just might give her what she knew she would be needing soon.
After a few days adjustment to the new environment, she would be getting hotter than ever for a wild session of unlimited sex, the no-holds-barred kind of sex she had shared with Burton on those occasions when he had been fresh and virile, unhampered by the responsibilities of his work. That was the thing she craved even now.
Once before she had been stirred by Gurney Adams. It had been accidental, impulsive, and wonderful. Yet, she had not hungered for Gurney as an individual at any time since... until now. Her smoldering appetite made her relive that evening when she and Gurney were rehearsing some tricky bits under Burton's direction. It was at the Chadwick home, and when one of his stars-due to be on the set the following day-was booked for drunk driving and suspicion of narcotic addiction, the star's agent had frantically summoned the director, who told Gurney and Lisa to "keep at it until I get back," then raced to the jail.
One of the things they were trying to perfect for the difficult scene was a clinch which moved from the vertical, standing position to a torrid couch session. It had to be accomplished smoothly and naturally without revealing too much of Lisa's inner thighs. But every time they tried it her skirt hiked up too far.
In Burton's absence, they continued to work in the mockup of the confined set they would be using. After the third attempt, it happened that Gurney's hand slipped over one of Lisa's breasts as he tried to keep her from falling when she tripped on the rug.
His hand froze there. Welded was more like it, for both of them felt a spreading heat from the contact. Lisa had simply put her own hand on the back of Gurney's neck and pulled his lips to hers as if it were still a part of the rehearsal. But both of them knew better. From that moment on, they wrote their own script.
She could still remember the feel of his lips and tongue on her-all over her. But most of all she could see, feel and taste the amazingly shaped cock Gurney had used on every orifice of her quivering, steaming body. It was seemingly a little longer than normal for its thickness. But its most unusual feature was the slight curve that turned upward at the tip, making the head seem like the barbed point of a primitive spear.
Gurney had managed to get that pointed tip wedged snugly in the mouth of her uterus, and when he had come inside her it felt as if she were flooded with scalding syrup in great gushes. She had passed out before he was finished ejaculating.
If Gurney and she had the opportunity to renew their familiarities up here, she knew that she would not hesitate for a moment. But right now, she was so tired...