Chapter 3
Coast-Air was a minor carrier that hopped from San Diego to Riverside to Los Angeles to Sacramento to Redding and to a number of points in between. Because of the short flights and low fares, they did not use the best or most modern equipment and their stewardesses did not possess the prettiest hips.
The girl on Jeff's flight had a skirt that was a little baggy in the seat. That was no tailoring fault. The skirt was all right. The girl simply did not have enough seat to fill it.
A far cry from TWA, United and American, he mused.
He had wondered on occasion if the major airlines selected their girls more for their buttocks than anything else. He had even gone so far as to imagine what an initial personnel interview might be like: "All right, Miss Jones, now will you kindly stand over there and face the other way? Good . . . good. Now please lift your skirt. Yes, that's quite necessary. You see, we have to be certain you have the right quality of curves. Higher, Miss Jones. All the way up. Oh, yes. That's It. Very nice, indeed."
This was hokum, of course, but it was an obvious fact that there were a greater proportion of beautiful asses among the airline hostesses than among the young female population at large.
Jeff amused himself in this way sometimes when he was in the throes of a hangover, particularly if he found himself trapped in a situation that offered only boredom. At such times the mind represented the sole possibility of escape.
He was bored on the flight and he had more boredom to look forward to-nothing but boredom, he feared, for as long as he would have to remain in Cannon Oaks.
His hope was that he could persuade his father to release him from the obligation, assuming the atd man was still able to converse. If only Jeff Bardell, Senior, had had another son! But that wouldn't be good because it would involve a civision of the estate and Jeff calculated that he would need all his father's wealth in order to keep Mmself going for the next forty or fifty years.
As for earning more from the business, Jeff wasn't interested. What good was money if you bad to wear yourself out to make it?
The plane touched down and taxied to a stop at the Redding airport. Jeff alighted behind his wife and Lupita.
It wasn't out of chivalry that he permitted the maid to go first. Today she wasn't wearing her shapeless black uniform, but had on a skimpy near-nothing of a sleeveless minidress. It fit so siugly around the backside that Jeff could make out the elastics of her underpants.
He wondered why he had always found those telltale ridges sexy. One might assume that the absence of ridges would be sexier, since it suggested the girl was not wearing panties. This wasn't so, as far as Jeff was concerned. And it was not merely because he knew the lack of ridges was more apt to indicate the girl wore panties that were ridgeless rather than that she was without the undergarment altogether. The ridges themselves appealed to him.
As he and the woman approached the terminal building, he glanced over the small crowd waiting in front of the place. He had no idea what Gus Bunyan looked like, since all his contacts with the man had been by mail or telephone, but he had met other lawyers. Most of them were overstuffed and pompous, in appearance as well as in manner. Bunyan, judging from his voice was in this class.
"Well?" Sophia asked as they stopped and watched other passengers greet people who were waiting for them.
"He said he would be here," was Jeff's response.
He saw no one to fit his mental image of Bunyan. Anyway, everyone who was waiting seemed to have paired off with someone who had arrived.
"We'll grab a taxi," Jeff said, heading into the terminal building, en route to the driveway in front.
When he was halfway across the lobby, with Sophia and Lupita following behind, the front door swung open and an ash-blonde rushed in. She wore a snow-white blouse and a snug short skirt. A purse swung from her shoulder by a long strap.
"Mister Bardell?" she inquired breathlessly.
His eyes moved from the thrusting hillocks of her breasts, tarried momentarily at her lush pink lips, which were like dewy rose petals parting at dawn, and finally found her baby-blue eyes.
"You're not Gus Bunyan," he said.
"That's very perceptive of you," she replied with an icy edge. "I'm his secretary, Miss Blake."
"Ah."
"Mister Bunyan was suddenly called to court. He asked me to pick you up."
"That could only be an improvement. Oh, this is my wife and that's our maid, Lupita."
Miss Blake said, "Glad to know you both. But this poses something of a problem."
"How so?"
"Well, you see I drive a two-forty-Z, and ..."
"What?" Sophia asked.
"A two-forty-Z. A Datsun two-forty-Z. It's a little car with only a boot in the back."
"Oh."
"It won't seat more than two people, I'm afraid."
''Why don't Lupe and I find a motel, Jeff?" Sophia suggested. "You can ride with Miss Blake to the office."
"Oh, that won't be necessary, Mrs. Bardell. The motel, I mean. You're to stay at the Bardell residence."
"Whether we want to or not?" Jeff asked.
"Well, I naturally assumed that..."
"Get a motel," he told Sophia, "and call me at
Banyan's office to tell me where you are."
She nodded and said, "Nice to have met you, MissBlake." Then she headed for the baggage counter with Lupita tagging behind.
Jeff grinned. "Shall we be off?"
"Yes. Of course."
The secretary would have qualified as an airline hostess, rear-wise. Hers was remarkably beautiful and displayed to perfection in her snug blue skirt. It possessed the perky roundness of his wife's with just enough of Lupe's voluptuousness added. As if flexed enticingly in front of him, on the way to her car, he detected only the merest hint of ridges, angling upward across the outer portion of each buttock and around the tops of her full thighs. The girl's waist was very slim. The peaks in her white Mouse quivered slightly as her heels clipped on the concrete.
"Do you have a first name, Miss Blake?" he asked.
"Of course. Doesn't everyone?"
He was off on the wrong foot with the girl. That much was evident.
"I understand the Ubangis don't," he told her.
"Really!"
Her car was a bright red beauty. As the girl sat down and swung her legs around, the contouring of the vinyl seat caught and held her skit, causing her tegs to be denuded to the crotch.
"Damn," the girl murmured, tugging at her skirt.
She pulled it to within five inches of her knees, which was as far as it would go when she was seated.
When Jeff raised his eyes, they met hers. He had never realized blue eyes could be so chilly.
"You don't like me, do you?" he said with a smile.
"It isn't for me to like or not to like. You're a client."
"Small correction. My father's the client. I may be one in the future, or I may not. But I wasn't asking the secretary. I was asking the girl."
"The girl would rather not commit herself. All right?"
She turned the ignition key and her Datsun snarled into life.
It was a half-hour drive to Cannon Oaks along a secondary highway that dipped and twisted through the lower elevations of the Cascades. The ash-blonde secretary, whose first name he still didn't know, handled the sprightly car like a competition driver. He complimented her once on this and she replied with a simple "Thank you," continuing to watch the road as her hair blew next to her face and her linen blouse-or what was within it, or both-quivered temptingly.
The town was just as he remembered it. But value-wise it ranked lower in his estimation. He saw it now as a city sophisticate of mature years. The main street seemed narrower and junkier; the buildings that climbed the canyon walls at either side seemed more drab than he remembered them. There were a few new ones, of course, and the older ones were pretty well maintained, but none of them looked attractive to him.
A tourist might have called the place picturesque. Jeff's characterization was not as complimentary.
Bunyan's secretary wheeled her little car into a at the Main Street curbing and cut the engine. Jeff watched her swing her legs around, mticipating that the ridge vinyl would grab her skirt again. It did, but this time all he saw were the fops of her thighs. Someone positioned exactly sight, outside the car, would have seen a great deal more.
He met her on the sidewalk.
"We're in this building," she said, indicating an old pile of dark bricks in front of them.
He followed the tick-tock motion of her buttocks through a postage stamp lobby and into an iron cage elevator. The operator was a stoop-shouldered old man.
"Hello, Jimmy," the girl said with more warmth than she had shown Jeff at any time during the thirty or forty minutes they had been together.
"Hello, Miss Blake," the man squeaked.
The ascent was shaky and Jeff watched the girl's breasts. They did more than quiver now. They ;iggled. She was wearing a flimsy bra, he concluded-the kind whose cups would easily be shoe-homed away.
He thought about that and his cock gave him a preliminary notice that it was ready.
The suite occupied by Bunyan and Hall was more prosperous-looking in its interior than was the building overall. It consisted of a small but well-appointed reception room where a middle-aged woman sat, and from which two open doorways led to the rooms of the attorneys' secretaries; beyond them the private offices of the lawyers themselves with a library of law books situated between them. Jeff didn't perceive all this at first glance, of course, but he had occasion to visit all parts of the suite during the days to come.
The receptionist said, "That was quick, Shirley. And this must be Mister Bardell, Juniori" She beamed.
Jeff nodded and returned her smile. "In here, Mister Bardell, if you please," Shirley said, entering her own little office. He followed.
"Now, there are some things Mister Bunyan wanted you to read, but I suppose you will want to check with the hospital to find out when you can see your father." She indicated the telephone on her desk.
"Make the call for me, will you?" he asked. She made her disapproval even more obvious as she looked at him now. "I realize it's none of my business, but what is it between you and your father, Mister Bardell?"
"There?s nothing between us," he said with a smile, "except the accident of nature that made him my father."
"That's a very peculiar thing for a son to say." He stared at her. There was the beauty of those lush lips, flawless complexion, pert little nose, silken, delicate-shaded hair, and eyes as clear and blue as a mountain lake. And all of it disliked him. He couldn't put up with this.
He pulled her into, his arms, causing her breasts to spread like inflated little balloons against his chest. He kissed her hard, deliberately brushing the fresh strawberry lips. He moved his lips, sucking, and then stabbed her deftly with his tongue.
Then he released her and she swayed back on her heels. She was blinking, her lips moist and still parted.
He waited, smiling confidently. Before he could discard his smile, her expression underwent a lightning change and her delicate hand flew through the air, cracking him across the cheek. It wasn't a playful tap. She meant it.
His face stinging, he looked at her in shock. He hadn't been slapped in years-not really slapped. "I'll make that call now," she said. She turned toward the telephone on her desk.
He stared at her pretty behind, the snug skirt, bathing suit and the panty lines barely distinguishable. He grasped her by the arm, spun r. half around, and dropped into a chair with her iiilmg across his lap.
On the way down she gasped. When she settled across his legs she gave a cry. When the flat of his lend landed smack across her lovely upturned buttocks, she squawked. He spanked her again, harder, delighting in the springiness of her rounded flesh. She twisted and squealed, but his arm held her down.
From the corner of his eye, he glimpsed the arrival of the receptionist in the doorway. She exclaimed, "Mister Barde-" He kept spanking, pouring on the coal, drubbing her lively buttocks good.
Then suddenly a deep voice demanded, "What's this?"
"Shirley's being spanked," the receptionist stated unbelievingly.
Jeff stopped the spanking and let the girl up.
Gus Bunyan entered the office and said, "By Godfrey, that's something she's had coming for years! Too bad her daddy never did it."
He beamed at Jeff and stuck out his hand. "Bunyan's the name and you're BardelFs boy. Well, I can see we're going to get along!"
Jeff liked him immediately.
"On the phone I wasn't sure what sort you were," Bunyan said. "You have to meet a man in person to find out about him."
"I might say the same thing, Mister Bunyan. I had the wrong idea about you, too."
"Call me Gus. Have a cigar?"
"No thanks. I don't use them."
Jeff took out his cigarettes and put one in his mouth while Bunyan waited with his desk lighter to ignite it. Bunyan took a long straight cigar with a light brown wrapper out of his desk humidor and rotated the lighter flame at the end of it. He puffed and the gray smoke rose in small clouds.
Bunyan was fifty, gray-haired, and had a mustache. His eyes were dark. He was heavy-set. Physically he had the overstuffed look that Jeff had anticipated. Something in his voice on the telephone had made that mandatory. But he was not in the least degree pompous.
He said, "Now I want to know where we stand. I take it from our telephone conversation that you're a man who speaks his mind."
"I try to, whenever possible."
"And that spanking you gave my fancy-pants secretary tells me you're & man with guts. By the way, precisely what did she do to invite it?"
"Nothing," Jeff said,^"except being what she is."
Bunyan laughed. "I know what you mean. I've put up with her superior airs for as long as she's been here and I've wanted to spank her myself. But, you see, I lack the gumption you have."
The smile left his face. "Now, about your father-I have the impression that there's no love lost between you two."
"That's how I feel. I can't speak for him."
"Have you called the hospital?" Bunyan asked through a glob of smoke.
"Not yet."
"I would if I were you. The last report I had was quite negative. The end is near, I'm afraid."
"May I?" Jeff asked, reaching for the instrument on the lawyer's desk.
"Of course. The receptionist will get the number for you."
Jeff told the woman what he wanted. He waited until the call was put through and he finally reached the doctor in charge.
"Of course, you can see your father," Dr. Nickman said. "Come over as soon as possible."
"How is he?"
"The left side of his body is paralyzed. There is some lung involvement. He has not been responding to treatment."
"I see. How long has he, Doctor?"
"That's hard to say. A week, perhaps considerably less time than that."
Jeff sighed and said, "I'll be right over.?' He hung up the phone.
"I would go with you," the attorney told him, "except that I have some appointments. Will you come directly back here?"
Jeff nodded.
When he stepped into the secretary's office, she turned quickly from an open filing drawer and looked at him. There was something in her eyes that he hadn't seen before.
"Are you going to the hospital?" she asked.
"Yes."
"I'll see if I can drive you. Just a moment."
Stunned, Jeff stood and watched her round, pliant buttocks twist as she entered Bunyan's office. He recalled how those buttocks had felt as he spanked them.
She appeared a moment later, smiling. "Yes, I can drive you," she said.
They left the office, took the elevator to the ground floor of the building, and walked to her car. Again Jeff watched her skirt slither up her legs as she positioned herself in the seat. This time she did not pull it down.
Jeff's cock responded to the sight of her crotch. The girl had a succulent, fresh beauty, and the haughtiness she had displayed earlier only made her beauty all the more enticing.
"The hospital's just outside town," she announced.
He had been thinking over her eagerness to drive him, in spite of what had happened between them just a few minutes before. Looking at her now, he thought he could detect a renewal of rosiness in her cheeks.
He said, "We don't have to go directly there."
She had backed the car out of the parking stall. Now she killed the engine, with the car's rear end sticking out into the street. Another vehicle honked behind them.
"What do you mean?" she asked, staring at him.
"I mean . . . the hospital will wait."
"You are a louse," she said slowly, in a low voice.
He grinned. "Maybe. But one thing I'm not is a hypocrite."
"What do you mean about going somewhere else? Where?"
The horn honked behind them again. She paid no attention.
"I'll leave that up to you," he told her.
She started to drive, and he watched her from the corner of his eye with amusement. She kept swallowing as she looked straight ahead, her face more flushed than ever. She touched her gleaming full lips with a pink tongue.
After they had proceeded a short distance on the main street, she took a right and they headed up the hillside on a narrow, winding road. The hospital was not up there. He remembered that much.
He looked down at her legs, which now were even more exposed as a result of her moving them to operate brake, clutch and gas peddle. His cock was now almost fully erect.
She pulled the car to a stop in front of a two-story frame house which was set on the hillside. Large trees shielded it from the residences on either side.
"Hurry," she said, "so no one sees."
She was out of the car immediately and he followed. They moved quickly up the cracked concrete stairs to the front door. Her key opened the place. (He learned later that she rented a room here from a couple who ran a drugstore; both of them were away all day. At the time, she offered no explanation and he wasn't about to ask for one. He was more than willing to let the situation anfold of its own accord.)
Not saying a word, she walked quickly upstairs in front of him. His hands itched to grasp her buttocks then and there. The little quiver of the rounded cheeks as they flexed and rubbed against one another within the tight skirt was maddening.
She led him down the hall to her room.
She dug frantically through her bag to find her key; once she had it in hand, she could hardly get it into the lock. Finally the door swung open and he followed her inside. She closed the door behind Ihem.
"Well!" he said, smiling at her.
There was a bed, neatly made, along with a dresser, a couple of chairs and a television set. The room was clean and attractive but small. A faint odor of perfume or incense hung in the air.
The color in her cheeks remained high as she looked at him and suddenly her blue eyes turned hard and accusing again. She spoke with what seemed to be great difficulty, her voice having acquired a tense huskiness.
"You think you know why I brought you here, but you're wrong."
"Oh?"
"There's something I want to tell you that I couldn't say in the office or even in the car."
"Go on." He couldn't keep an amused twinkle out of his eyes.
"I think you are the most disgusting man I have ever met." Her voice was acquiring added force, but the tense huskiness remained. "You are self-centered, conceited, egotistical and thoroughly nasty."
A rising surge of emotion possessed him, but it was not anger. Now he understood the bitch. His eyes kept their twinkle, but they turned a little harder. He didn't say anything and he didn't make a move.
"Your father is dying and you don't care. You're a spoiled, rich, revolting person. I hate you!"
He licked his lips. Every nerve within him was quivering, telling him to do what he was going to do. But he exerted his will power and held himself back. He wanted her to build the situation to a maximum pitch. He wanted to have a more than ample excuse for everything that was to follow.
She moved closer, her cheeks rosy and her eyes like chunks of blue stone catching the sunlight. Her lips were moist and lush, her teeth gleaming white behind them.
"You're a pig! A slob! A terrible person!"
"All right," he said slowly, his voice under taut control. "You've said a lot and it was all very naughty. You're going to have to be punished."
"No," she whined, recoiling as he reached out for her.
He moved forward, eyes glinting. "You're going to be punished severely."
She backed against the wall, her eyes wide and dancing with a strange light. She whimpered, "No. Oh, please. Oh, don't ..."
"Yes," he said as he moved up in front of her. His hard, gleaming eyes drilled into hers, which now were weak and submissive, but strangely stimulated. "I'm not only going to spank you. I'm going to humiliate you."
She gasped.
"I'm going to humiliate you by lifting up your skirt and taking down your pants."
She keened excitedly.
"I'm going to spank you on the bare bottom and I'm going to make it red. I'm going to use my hand and I'm going to use that big flat hairbrush on your dresser."
"No!"
"Yes! I'm going to paddle the daylights out of you, and then I'm going to make you show me how sorry you are for being so very, very naughty."
"Oh!" she cried.
He let an evil grin spread all the way across his face, and then he grasped her by the wrist and spun her away from the wall. She staggered and fell face-down across the bed.
He pounced on top of her, placing his knees at each side of her slim waist, and he sat back lightly against the upper portion of her back. Wailing and crying, she beat against the bed with her fists. She arched her back as much as possible, which forced her buttocks up. They quivered against her skirt as they waggled this way and that.
Jeff gazed at the sight with the greatest relish. This was rare fun. He was going to gain from the atuation every bit of pleasure it had to give.
Her skirt was well above her knees, so it wasn't going to have to be pulled very far. But it was a straight garment and this posed a problem. He decided on the quickest and simplest solution. He grasped the skirt at the hem, above the division line between her legs, tightened his grip, and pulled with all his might.
Shirley shrieked as the skirt split with a great ripping sound. The split traveled up the outer side of her left leg from hem to top. Jeff lay the torn flap aside, as if he were opening the cover of a book.
She wore a straight pink slip, shiny and thin. He grasped that and performed the same operation, splitting it at the side and tossing the flap away.
He had uncovered a delightful sight: Luscious legs, pantyhose all the way up her thighs, to the pink panties that fit snugly on her jiggling'bottom and were so sheer that the line of cleavage showed through.
She was issuing short whining cries, half muffled by the bed, but she was twisting less now. Her legs were still.
He dug underneath the rumpled cloth at her waist, raising himself slightly at the same time, and found the waist elastic of her panties and pantyhose. He stretched this toward her legs, pulling it out from under the torn slip and skirt, denuding the upper portions of her buttocks. But it was caught underneath the weight of both their bodies pressing the front of her panties against the bed.
He put his thumbs under the elastic and ran them around the sides of her hips. He worked the panties back and forth, gradually dislodging them at her belly and getting the top of them down to her hips. He slid his grip as low as possible on each side and gave a vigorous push. She cried as the double elastic went to her thighs.
He plucked the stretched nylon at the middle, where it was still clinging to the fullness of her buttocks, and folded it down. He worked it into a shining pink rope midway down her asscheeks. This was, perhaps, the prettiest behind he had ever seen. The curves were plump and full, but firm as could be. They were set close together. She was tanned lightly on the legs, but her bottom was a delicious shade of pinkish white.
He was going to turn it completely pink. He was going to put the prints of his hands all over it, and he was going to keep spanking her until the handprints merged.
She sobbed and moaned, but had stopped struggling. She was lying tensely between his straddling legs.
"Now you're going to get the spanking of your life," he announced as he lifted his right hand. "Kind of spanking that your father should have given you."
"No!" she cried, arching her back-which had She effect of forcing her bottom up. She waggled it and it quivered.
Jeff stared for a few moments more, savoring the enticing sight and burning it into his memory. Then he brought his hand down squarely across her buttocks-slapping them with a resounding smack that caused them to compress, then jump and shake as he quickly lifted his hand for the next blow. Shirley wailed.
He spanked her again at the same place. He spanked her a third time on the left buttock only, causing that one to shake against the other, which remained still. He used his left hand to slap her right buttock. Now he spanked both buttocks at once, using both hands.
She hollered and kicked, but she wasn't trying to free herself. She wanted what he was giving her. That much had been plain to him from the beginning.
Her buttocks became pink as he continued to spank them. Finger lines showed up, along with larger rosy blotches made by the palms of his hands. And all the time the punished buttocks danced, the plump flesh shaking and quivering. He spanked her harder, using only his right hand now, powering it down, blistering her rear with a rapid series of staccato smacks.
Suddenly he stopped, swung one leg over her and leaped from the bed.
"Don't move or you'll get twice as much," he warned as he lunged to the dresser to grasp her large wooden hairbrush.
"Oh, no! God, no please!" she squealed. But she didn't get off her belly.
He didn't climb back on top of her this time. He merely stood at the side of the bed, bent forward slightly, and laid the hairbrush on her.
The sound of this repeated smacking was louder and sharper than the sound of his hand against her bottom had been. She cried piteously, but he showed no pity. She twisted, rubbing her pussy against the bed and splaying her legs, but she didn't try to remove her ass from the line of fire.
Jeff's cock was now rock-hard. The experience had provided tremendous stimulation. His arm arched, but he continued to flail her upturned buttocks with the hairbrush.
Suddenly she moaned very loudly and clutched the bedspread at either side of her. Her lower body twisted against the bed and then she shuddered all over with what looked like a monumental climax.
He stopped spanking her.
She turned onto her side and faced him with glazed eyes and wet, slack lips. She stared at the bulge in the front of his slacks which was even with her line of sight. Almost before he realized what she was doing, she reached out and slid his zipper down. Then she took his prick out.
"Oh, Daddy ... Daddy!" she cried, lunging forward, her pink lips wide, her hot mouth enfolding his prick.
A growl came up all the way from his guts as he felt the sleek encompassing moistness. She began bobbing her head, crying softly.
Jeff dug at the front of her clothing, popping buttons off her white blouse, hooking a flimsy bra cup away. Now his hand was full of a trembling nude breast and he squeezed it in time with Shirley's motions.
He denuded the other breast and squeezed and shook that one. He moved his hand from one to the other, shaking them and plucking at the copies. He could see only one breast because Shirley's twisted body was in the way, but that one was a luscious beauty. It was creamy white with the smallest, most adorable pink tip he had ever seen. It was like a fresh-little berry just getting ripe. He rolled it and pulled at it as Shirley went on giving him the most intense blow-job he had gotten in some time.
She showed no sign of wanting to stop, and he didn't want her to do so. She had had her climax. Now she was going to give him his in gratitude.
He groaned again as her sucking caused his nuts to draw tighter and tighter and tighter. Pretty soon be wouldn't be able to control himself.
His hand left her breasts and slipped down to her pussy. He delved his fingers into her slit and shot two fingers deep inside her vagina.
He was shocked to discover she was a virgin.
He took his hand away and returned it to her feeasts where he squeezed and pulled at them until siddenly he began to shoot his wad, his cock punching forward into her throat as he squirted jet after jet into her. Shirley made a strange contented sound and maintained the embrace.
Only after she had milked him of his last drop did she lean back and smile up at him. She murmured, "Was that all right, darling?"
Later, as she got into a different white blouse . and a skirt that was almost identical, she told him, "You were wrong about my father. He used to spank me a lot. I needed it. He knew that and gave it- to me. But ever since I left home, no one had done it ... until today. When you spanked me in the office, I knew I would have to have more from you-the way my father used to do it, with my panties down."
"And the other?" he had to ask. "How about the other?"
"I've done that with several boys. I want to stay virgin until I'm married."
"But your father," Jeff said. "Did you ever suck his cock?"
"Goodness, no!"
"You wanted to, though, didn't you?"
She looked at him for a moment and then she moved into his arms, holding him close and crying against his shirt front.
"I'm so awful," she moaned. "I'm terrible. I ought to be spanked every day."
Chuckling, he said, "I'm afraid your cute behind couldn't stand that." He petted her lightly, soothingly, there. "Anyway, you're not bad. Quit thinking that. You're merely human, and that's a condition that afflicts all of us."
"I want to be with you again, Jeff," she said earnestly, tear tracks on her cheeks.
"We'll see."
"Does your wife let you spank her?"
"I've never tried."
"She ought to. Oh, God, it's great!"
"There's one strong argument against our seeing one another again."
"What's that?"
"Your desire to stay virgin."
"But the other . , . wasn't the other even better for you? Most boys think so."
"Cock-sucking is terrific-as a novelty. And you do it well. But fucking is best for steady driving."
"I couldn't."
"Why? Hasn't anyone ever told you virginity's old-fashioned?"
"All the guys say that when they're on the make. But when they're shopping for a wife, virginity is the biggest asset a girl can have."
"Around here, maybe," Jeff admitted. "But not most men in the cities."
"I like it up here," she said. "I like the mountains and the clear fresh air."
He smiled. "Well you're running your life."
"But you won't see me again?" For an answer, he gave her a peck on the lips.
"I'll do for you what I did today," she smised. "Any time at all."