Chapter 7
So I cheated a little, Sara thought smugly, so I palmed one of those damned cocktail straws so that I would draw Priss' husky husband, Greg. So what!
She knew that she had done something a tiny bit wrong, but she also knew that what her three friends didn't know wouldn't hurt them. And she had been hankering like a vulture after raw meat for a crack at the kind of man Priss had described to them as her hubby.
Probably the item that had appealed to Sara's prurient mind the most was what Priss had casually dropped one afternoon a few months before. She had said, "Greg was Mister Arizona, y'know. Lord, he's got muscles on his damn muscles. The first few weeks we were married I got so blasted tired of cramp sit-ups, squats, leg-curls, and seated twists... "
"Seated what?" Sara had wheezed.
"Those exercises muscle boys are always doing dear. They sit on the kitchen floor in their jockstraps and put their hands behind their heads and twist until their elbows are around behind their hips. It's awful!"
Sara had grinned. "Sounds like it might be a hell of a lot of fun doing that in bed!"
But Priss had seemed totally unimpressed with the body that her husband had, except in the way that it made all the females drool at the health spa where he worked. Or, as Priss once put it, her blue eyes twinkling: "Sometimes Greg comes home and tells me how many propositions he got that day. He says they are always from women old enough to be his mother."
Sara knew why, too. That health spa where Greg Sanford worked was one of the most exclusive places in the city for airing out the bodies of rich old broads. Just visiting the place for a sauna bath was twenty-five bucks.
"So what if something as young and cute as you propositioned Greg?" Sara had teasingly asked Priss on that same occasion.
Whereupon Priss had tossed her head with the same kind of arrogant possession that a mare feels regarding her favorite stallion, and said, "Greg tells me that I satisfy every desire he has-or has ever had."
And Sara had, at that precise moment, decided to test Priss' belief at her earliest opportunity.
Now that opportunity had come, and it was so aboveboard that even Priss couldn't stop her from trying. The stalking of the muscular and handsome Greg Sanford, however, would not be quite as easy as she thought. In the first place she knew damned well she couldn't really afford to trot over to that health spa and blow all that money on the chance of luring Greg into a motel. And in the second place, her own bitchy and nympho personality wouldn't let her go begging. She wanted a way to make Greg come after her, and come after her with that powerful prick twitching between his lovely legs. So it took her a day or two to figure out the scheme.
What she finally decided upon was as sneaky as palming the cocktail straw. But Sara had a cunning hunch that it would work. So the day before she called Greg at the health spa she visited a friend of hers. She was a Chinese girl Sara had met only a few weeks before in a neighborhood cocktail lounge. She and Lin had sort of got to talking over a martini that day, and in nothing flat Sara had sized up the cute little Chinese as a Lesbian.
Sara had absolutely nothing against Lesbians! In fact, she had fooled around more than once with pussy-hungry females. The first time-and this was something not even The Wranglers had known about-was with her high school English teacher, a dry-cunted old maid called Miss Ellen. The teacher had taken a deep interest in Sara on the first day in Shakespeare class. And after a couple of tea-time talks at the teacher's house, Miss Ellen had made her move. Looking back on it with a wry grin, Sara remembered that she really liked having her pussy lapped. In fact, it took a male with a good strong tongue to beat the kind of greedy sucking that a middle-aged Lesbian could offer once she got her head between the legs of a lusty, sixteen-year-old girl.
So Sara had not been turned off at all by the way Lin had teased her with those almond-brown, slanted eyes. She had even encouraged her a bit, just to see how far the girl would go. She found out, too. She found out that very night when Lin invited her back to her apartment for a drink.
The result of that visit was a kind of hobby in sex for Sara. Lin never insisted that she suck her pussy. Sara casually rationalized that if taking off her clothes and lying on Lin's fluffy bed while the new pal guzzled and chewed her meaty cunt into an orgasm was perverted, then she was as queer as a purple pineapple. So Lin was a friend.
"Do you know what you are asking me to do?" Lin had exploded, when Sara called her and proposed her scheme for catching Greg Sanford.
"Sure I do doll," Sara had purred. "All I want you to do is lend me your apartment for an afternoon. And let me pretend that I'm you. Also, of course, I want your permission to run some of those dirty movies you keep stacked up in the closet. Something that will really turn a man on."
"But-a man!" Lin sniffed. "I thought you were satisfied with me?"
"Only on Tuesday and Friday," Sara grinned. "On the other days of the week I get itchy for something with hairy balls."
"You are terrible, Sara."
"You gonna let me have the apartment?"
There was a long pause, during which Sara could almost hear those oriental cogs turning in Lin's lusty little brain.
"Well," Lin muttered, at last, "I will do this for you only on two conditions."
"Two, eh? Name 'em."
"You must let me watch what you do with this male. Because it excites me to see you passionate and happy. I can hide myself in the closet and watch without the man knowing."
"Fair enough. And the second condition?"
"That I am allowed to have what you Americans call sloppy seconds!"
Sara had grinned from ear to ear. "You just made me an offer I can't refuse!"
So, on the next morning Sara called the health spa and asked to speak to Greg. Some haughty bitch answered the phone and tried to put up a little argument, but Sara told her that if she didn't let her speak to Greg, she would tell all her friends to drop their memberships immediately. The bluff worked, and in seconds Greg came on the phone. His twenty-four-year-old voice was both light and husky sounding, and sexy as a sailor in tight pants.
"Greg Sanford?"
"Yes."
"This is Lin Lee Long, visiting from Hong Kong."
There was a dead silence.
"Are you still there, Mr. Sanford?"
"Uh, yeah, sure. You say... "
"I say that I am here representing my father. He is very much interested in opening a chain of! health spas in Asia, all catering to rich American ladies."
"So what does that have to do with... "
"With you? Everything!"
For the next five minutes Sara had laid out a line of phony garbage that would have convinced a jackass he had six legs. She told Greg that he was one of the three young men being considered as a manager for the biggest spa, the one in Tokyo, and that she would like to interview him.
"You don't sound very Chinese," Greg said, finally.
"I was educated over here," Sara parried, swiftly. "My father wanted me to have the decent things in life, and he gave me the kind of education that allows me-to make quick decisions about family affairs. So how are your deltoids, biceps, triceps, and the old pectorals?"
That line had finally made Greg chuckle. "Say, you sure sound like you know what you want."
"You haven't answered my question."
"Well, I guess you know all about me. Guess I've got a fair enough body. No complaints yet."
"Bring a jockstrap."
"Huh?"
"I said, when you come over for the interview, bring your jockstrap. I want to see what I might be hiring."
"Kind of using the old noggin, eh?"
"You might say that!"
When the phone conversation was over, Sara didn't have a ghost of an idea whether Greg would fall for her line, or not. But she was certainly one jump ahead of him in some respects. By giving him Lin's real name, she knew he could check the apartment directory and find that she really lived where she said she did. And the other big plus was the fact that Lin's father did live in Hong Kong-and exported dried fish.
"You think the man will come?" Lin said that afternoon, as the two of them were whipping the apartment into shape.
"Why wouldn't he, honey. I think he'll come out of damn curiosity, if nothing else."
"And what will you do when he arrives?"
Sara grinned slackly. "First I'll feel those cannon-ball deltoids of his, then... "
"You will feel his balls right off!" Lin gasped, her slanting eyes opening like two little cunts.
Sara laughed. "No, sweetie, his muscles. Those muscles in the arms or wherever the hell deltoids are. He's a muscle man. Big all over, I hope!"
When the apartment was in shape, Sara decided it was time to sort through Lin's collection of dirty movies to find a couple that might turn on a muscle man. Luckily, Lin had a few films that weren't strictly Lesbian in nature-not that a normal male can't get roaring hot watching a couple of females eat each other. But Sara wanted a movie with some good old-fashioned cunt-fucking in it.
"What have you got, Lin, anything with screwing? Something maybe in color and with a lot of good close-ups?"
Lin gathered her stack of films out of the closet and brought them over for Sara's inspection. Just as Sara expected, the Lesbian dug into the pile and came up with a couple of queer flicks.
"This one is nice," Lin hummed. "I buy this one in San Francisco."
"I'll bet you did," Sara smiled, taking the can of film and glancing at the title. The name of the smutty thing was Pussy Playpen. And the little plot summary under the title was enough to make the devil blush: Watch Jill and Jane really play nurse and nurse! More sucking and licking, more tit-pulling and pussy-petting in OUR movie than in anything Denmark ever made! Makes Fanny Hill look like a nun!
Sara grinned. "That might be something to look at on a cold night curled up with you on the sofa. But I want something for our muscle man that has... "
"This one is good, too," Lin interrupted, handing her a large spool of film that looked like it might run an hour in length. But it was a loser, also. Sara could tell that right off by reading the title. It was a Lesbian epic called Miss Mary Mouthful, and the brief description promised the viewer the fascinating pleasure of watching Miss Mary work her way through six hot pussies-three white and three black-and top it all off with a double-dildo fuck and a tit-licking contest!
"It's in color, too," Lin breathed, appreciatively.
"I don't care if it's in three-D with stereophonic sound, honey. I want a fuck movie, something that shows a pussy being balled by a horny man."
Lin grinned. "You mean you want a queer movie!"
"Have it your way. You got one?"
"I have two. Wait, and I will find them for you."
Lin had to dig deep to come up with the necessary flicks. They were on the bottom, and a bit dusty. But the search turned out to be worth it. One was called Orgy On The Stairs. It described how one French maid gets fucked by the butler, the cook, the delivery boy and six marines who just happen to be in the neighborhood. The second film, however, sounded like the real winner-the kind of dirty, no-holes-barred, ball-bustin', cock-stiffening kind of stag movie that would make a corpse hot. It was titled I Was A Fuck Freak. The description luridly revealed how the heroine of the film learned very early in life that it is better to have fucked every man she met, than never to have fucked at all. The forty-five minute movie-in true color and endless close-ups-promised no less than twenty horny partners for the fair damsel, forty-eight to sixty positions for fucking, cunt-eating and cock-sucking galore, and a climactic scene with a German shepherd dog doped half-crazy with Spanish fly.
"Sounds a little tame," Sara grinned, flushing salaciously, "but I'll bet after seeing some of this, Greg Sanford will be ready to jog a country mile-in a horizontal position!"
"And I am to watch all of this cannibal behavior from the closet," Lin reminded Sara.
"Be your own guest, doll, but don't sneeze or anything at the wrong moment. I wouldn't want to throw Greg's timing off."
Lin giggled. "I think I will take my watch into the closet with me. If he does it without stopping, it might be interesting to compare his time to my time."
Sara grinned. "Wouldn't be fair, sweetie. He's got bigger equipment to work with!"
They were still chatting softly as Sara threaded the dirty movie into the projector and aimed it at the screen.
Just as that operation was completed a sharp buzz came from the apartment door and Sara pushed Lin into the bedroom toward the huge wardrobe closet.
"Hide in there and for God's sake don't make heavy breathing noises!"
Lin giggled, nevertheless, as she wriggled her petite body in among the coat hangers and clothes, pulling the winged doors almost shut. But she left a healthy little peeking crack so that she could see the bed and anything that might happen on it. Sara hurried back to the front door as the buzzing came again with a shrill insistence. She opened the door on what had to be the best damned looking young male in captivity.
"I'm looking for Miss Lin," Greg Stanford said, giving Sara one of those quick toe-to-top assessments that young guys automatically give females, as if they are instinctively wondering what kind of humping they might be capable of in bed.
"Are you Greg Sanford?" Sara trilled, pretending to be not quite sure.
"That's right. Do you know if Miss Lin... "
"I'm her secretary," Sara cut in, brazenly, "and she told me to ask you to wait. Won't you come in?"
Greg shrugged his enormous shoulders and strolled into the room as Sara shut and slyly locked the door behind him. Her heart was still thumping from the sight of male perfection exhibited so casually by Priss' handsome young husband. He had blond hair, even more golden blond than Priss, and his dark eyes set around a strong nose and blunt cheekbones made him look sexy enough to howl at. And this wasn't even counting the gorgeous body that not even a sports coat and slacks could hide.
"Have a seat. How about a drink?" Sara gushed.
He grinned and took the seat, but waved aside the suggestion of a drink.
"No vices?" she asked, moving in front of him so that he couldn't fail to notice her body.
He grinned again, showing teeth white and strong as marble, and shook his head. "I've got a couple of vices, but drinking just doesn't happen to be one of them."
That husky, almost innocent voice of his was doing things to Sara that were bordering deliciously on the indecent! In fact, the borderline was already being crossed if the hardening of her nipples were any indication-added to that development was the equally excited itching that had started in her cunt. The lips of her pussy were pouting wickedly out against the nylon crotch of her panties, reaching out blindly for the tool she knew Greg Sanford had nestled inside his shorts.
God, she was gonna fuck this cute young stud if she had to drive him into the bedroom with a whip and a chair, Sara thought.
To steel her nerves for the seduction, she slinked her hips over to Lin's well-stocked liquor cabinet and poured herself a drink of raw Scotch that would have killed a python.
"Here's to... what d'ya' want to drink to?" she asked, smiling at him with her glass lifted. She saw the embarrassed and confused little flicker in his eyes, and that made her bolder.
"How about drinking to jockstraps?" she said, flatly.
He tried to grin, but it twitched uncertainly on his lips.
Sara tossed down the whisky and felt it burning like lava all the way down to her liver. But it immediately did wonders for what little inhibitions she had left. She felt woozy, nervy and curvy! She maneuvered her way over to the sofa and crawled up beside him. He didn't move, but sat there with his hands in his lap, looking straight ahead.
She grinned and wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. Yes, indeedy, she thought, this is going to be one fun fucking-if I can ever get him to look at me! She reached one hand out and toyed with his shirt collar, moving her mouth a bit closer to his face. "So tell me about your work, honey," she breathed, huskily. "Do you do massages and stuff at that flesh parlor you work in?"
Greg pulled away from her, leaving her finger twirling in the air. "Look, Miss... "
"Hotz. Miss Hotz," she grinned.
"Well, uh, Miss Hotz, I came here to talk to Miss Lin. And I think you've had enough, don't you?"
"Enough what, hero?"
"Enough to drink."
"Oh... yeah, I've had enough of that. But I sure could use a whole heaping lot of something else."
He didn't answer, and it amused her to see his ears turning a baby pink. All he needed, she decided, was just a tiny bit more coaxing and she would have him in bed and humping like a goddamn animal.
"You want to model that jockstrap for me?" she purred.
He gave her a stricken, helpless stare, "I certainly don't," he snapped. "All I came up here for was to be interviewed by Miss Lin. And I know she lives here because I checked the name on the mailbox."
"Bright boy. So if you don't want to model that strap for me, and since you can't interview Miss Lin until she gets here, what do you want to do?"
"Anything, I guess. I mean, anything so long as I it's harmless. I'm a married man, you know."
"Do tell. Okay, so we do something harmless. How does a movie strike you?"
"Huh?"
"A movie, a motion picture, a flick!"
Greg thought about that for a second, then shrugged. "That sounds okay," he said. Then he grunted coldly. "I suppose you're going to show me a boy-gets-girl one."
Her grin traveled all the way up to her earlobes. "Make that boys," she whispered, huskily. And then she got up to pull the drapes.