Chapter 2
"The Arrival"
"Man oh man, oh man, oh man! Talk about creating a scene, I thought I'd crap out! I thought that hotel manager would drop a load right then and there when we trooped across the fuckin' lobby and he saw old Demis, mirror glasses and all! The whole joint just froze, man, like they couldn't believe it was happening!" The comment came from a sport-shirted, hippie type in his early twenties, with sideburns that sloped down the jawline of his square face and turned into the edges of a mustache.
"If that producer-type, what the hell was his name...Murrey, I think...if he hadn't said he was responsible for the bill...."
"You wanna cool it, baby?" The shrieks of laughter and the excited buzz of conversation from the group stilled as though my magic. The hotel room, packed with bizarrely-dressed people and a mass of newly-unpacked photographic equipment, fell silent at the sudden, high-pitched command.
The command came from a well-built young man who suddenly stood up from the center of the room. He was wearing a bright, button-down shirt, tight white pants and dark glasses with mirror lenses-so that his eyes were completely hidden from view and anybody who looked at him saw their own faces reflected and distorted. His face was pale; his thin, flat hair pure white. From all outward appearances he should have been the most insignificant man in the room; and yet there was a magnetism about his personality, a nervous, uneasy intensity which made him impossible to ignore.
Demis Fleur was his name.
"There's a couple of things I gotta do-privately! Go on back to your own rooms. I'll give you a buzz when I want you."
The group broke up rapidly. They began to shuffle through the open door as if Fleur's dismissal had deflated their egos. And one girl in particular was on the brink of tears as she moved past him, her eyes downcast. Her name was Lillian Trent. She was dark-haired, the sweeping raven tresses flowing freely over her shoulders and halfway down her back. And although she wore no make-up, her lace was naturally beautiful; its small red lips and very fine features making Lillian look like a wistful, innocent ingénue.
Suddenly Fleur reached out a hand and stopped her, drawing her back into the room and kicking it shut behind the others.
"You wait behind, baby," he murmured. "You stay for a while!" Fleur swung her into his arms, releasing Lillian's hand and holding her against him, pressing both his hands firmly into the cushions of her buttocks.
She was wearing a tight, black leather micro-skirt. A silk blouse, its first three buttons open, covered the top half of her body-and a thin silver chain around her neck swung down into the cleavage between her breasts. She was shoeless and her legs were bare: and although Lillian was quite a tall girl, the absence of heels made her appear small and slight beside Fleur's rangy six-foot frame.
"You dig being back home, Lillian?" he asked, rocking the girl against him so that their bodies bumped sexily together. "It's been a long while, hasn't it?"
Lillian Trent had been born and educated in London, but her parents had emigrated to the United States when she was fifteen. Now twenty-four, the girl had spent her adolescence in the hothouse of American culture, Hollywood. And when Demis Fleur had invited her to join his "Crew," living a communal existence and experimenting with the new art-forms which were being evolved, she had said a swift goodbye to her middle-class background and taken the plunge.
Just as had everyone else who'd come into direct contact with the self-styled young genius, Lillian had fallen completely under Fleur's spell. He seemed to reach out and grab hold of life-trying to cram as much experience as possible into the brief span of years which had been allotted to him. At the same time, he was no dilettante. He didn't dabble in the arts; he immersed himself deeply, until he felt that he had exhausted the attraction they possessed for him. Then he would move on to something else.
Only two years ago, painting had been his chief interest. And Fleur had quickly won a reputation as the most talented of the Pop Artists: a reputation which he dismissed as carelessly as an old girl friend! Critical acclaim meant nothing to him. Fleur didn't want adulation from the squares-from the glossy magazines and the public. In fact, directly he sensed that he was becoming "fashionable" or a cult-name in a particular art movement, he abruptly dropped his interest and went on to something else.
Right now, movies were his prime concern. And the question which he refused to answer, even to people like Lillian Trent who were closest to him, was: "Why go over to England and make a film for a crummy third-class British studio?"
Not a single human being on this planet could accuse him of selling out to the commercial film industry. Over in Hollywood, Fleur could have signed a contract guaranteeing him five times as much as Mason Motion Pictures was offering. No, it wasn't a question of money....
"But for God sakes why?" Lillian asked Demis again, snuggling close to him. "Why come over here to make a film? You could--. "
Demis rubbed his hands possessively over her fine, well-fleshed buttocks.
"That's okay," Fleur whispered into Lillian's hair. "Don't worry-I'm going to tell you! That's why I called you back, so that you could be the first to know about my little plan!"
He began to giggle secretively, and Lillian-turning her face to look at him-saw her own eyes reflected in the mirror lenses of his glasses. What was going on behind those mirrors, she wondered
-for perhaps the millionth time since she had first met Demis Fleur. He worked damn hard at being enigmatic. The only time he ever took his glasses off was....
At that very moment, Fleur took one hand from her buttocks and unhooked the black plastic frames from his ears. He flipped the dark glasses off and tossed them onto a chair, blinking rapidly as the pupils winced at the sudden light.
"But before I tell you, Lillian...."
Instantly she knew what he wanted. His pale blue eyes held an expression of desire and she could feel his rod moving against her crotch. Smiling, Lillian slid down onto her knees. Her hands reached up to the wide, studded belt at Fleur's hips and she began to unfasten it.
Very slowly he unbuttoned his shirt, as though enjoying the feel of the fabric. He slipped his arms out of the sleeves as Lillian gently drew down the zipper of his pants and started to pull them over his thighs. Lillian got them as far as the patent leather boots which covered Fleur's ankles, then paused while she unlaced them and helped to pull them off.
Now he stood on one foot at a time, resting his hands on the girl's black hair, a faint smile of pleasure on his thin, aesthetic lips. When Lillian had worked the boots and the pants off, she slipped her hands up Fleur's legs and quickly pulled down the small blue underpants-jerking them swiftly over the rising bulge of his penis and making the half-erect weapon bobble violently as it came free of the under-briefs.
Stark naked now, he stood in front of her. Lillian put both her hands on the backs of his thighs, moving herself forward against him until her mouth was brushing him and her breasts pushed against his knees.
Slowly she began to kiss him, her moist, parted lips caressing Fleur's thick pendulum until the weapon grew quickly fatter and reared upwards against his belly. Lillian wasn't using her hands. She kept them on Fleur's thighs, fondling the tops of his legs and playing bob-apple with his penis: her lips chasing and kissing at the thick length, then letting it escape her for a moment or two....
After she had worked it to a fierce, stiff erection, its surface skin taut and showing the bright red underside, Lillian moved her mouth away. She surveyed the glistening wet knob for a while; watching it pulse and throb as she slowly stripped off her own clothes.
In order to remove her skirt and panties, Lillian had to get up from her kneeling position-and this meant also that the girl's body rubbed sleekly against Fleur as Lillian raised herself gradually to her feet. They kept their bodies in close proximity, the contact of their bare flesh making Lillian's nipples perk up to a proud, ripe erection-the buds pushing sveltely into Fleur's stomach and chest as she came upright.
Now the hot thickness of his manhood stuck rigidly into Lillian's loins, making a firm indent in her flesh just above the curl of her navel. She unhooked her black skirt and let it slither down her thighs and legs to the floor. The leather material fell in folds around her ankles, and Lillian stepped out of it-making the discarded skirt rustle as she kicked her feet free of it.
In only her panties, the young English girl wriggled for a moment against Fleur's naked body. She squirmed herself backwards and forwards, then from side to side; holding the American around his waist and leaning slightly back in his arms so that their loins made constant contact....
Now his hands were moving from the lush outward swelling of her half-covered hips, Fleur dipped his fingers into the waistband of her briefs. He began to tug them down over Lillian's ass, putting his hands palm-downwards against the soft, curving flesh of the cheeks.
The young and beautiful girl kept her thighs tightly pressed, helping him to lever the pants over her upper legs. And when the tiny briefs were eased past her crotch, leaving the triangle of pubic hair completely uncovered, Lillian stooped slightly and caught hold of the sides of her panties-jerking them quickly the rest of the way to her ankles.
Now she eagerly got out of them and remained in a crouching position in front of Fleur. After its stimulating friction against the warmth of her body, he had risen to a full-blooded erection: the hard muscle of his prick reared powerfully, its foreskin pulled tautly back under the pressure of its angry surging.
Lillian next dropped onto her knees. She pressed the palms of her hands prayer-like together, sandwiching Fleur's penis between her fingers. Its fat length was hot to her touch, but strangely soft despite the vigor of its stiffness. Experimentally, the girl tightened her fingers, squashing Fleur's weapon more securely in her palms. Yes, its outer skin was quite smooth and tender...still moist from her earlier kisses.
She took a hold of it firmly, bending the crown of the shaft towards her mouth. Once again it slid between Lillian's lips-her velvet-soft tongue rubbing along its base and bringing a gasp of appreciation from Fleur as he felt the girl's lips closing tightly around his weapon.
Lillian had to be the best damned head job he had ever known! Little Lillian Trent...by Christ, she knew just how he liked to be kissed and gobbled!
Now it was slowly disappearing into Lillian's mouth. The girl was panting as she took more and more of the thick flesh between her lips, its pulsing meat cramming past her teeth and now driving backwards and forwards as Fleur urged his hips in a hard, sexual rhythm.
After he was well and truly sucked, his sperm almost ready to rise, Fleur wound his fingers more tightly into Lillian's long Mack hair. He turned the locks, knotting them around his thin, white fingers and then savagely jerked the girl's head up and down-a gleam of hot excitement in his eyes as he heard the half-stifled moans which were escaping from Lillian's lips.
Lillian had learned to expect this. When Fleur grew lustful, when his passion became too intense, he couldn't restrain himself from hurting the person who was giving him his pleasure. And when, in her turn, Lillian began to use her teeth...biting down on the throbbing length of him and deliberately causing him pain...she, too, felt a strange joy spreading through her body.
Now the all encompassing intensity of their game increased. Lillian, by bearing down on Fleur's weapon with her teeth, had released a new fury in the American. He brought his knee up and started to grind it into the plumpness of her breast; jabbing with short but painful blows into the voluptuous white mound, making Lillian breathless with sharp yet pleasurable pain.
His hands felt as if they were tearing out her hair by the roots! Fleur's fingers twisted and writhed, slamming her face back and forth so that her mouth slid almost free of his staff; then came suddenly backwards along its length to swallow it to the bushy, wiry hilt!
Suddenly, fiercely, he slammed at the back of her throat; he held her steady, while his loins trembled against her face. For the space of perhaps five seconds they held the motionless tableaux.
Now, brutally, Fleur shot a thick gusher down Lillian's throat!
And then it came. It came rushing out of the tiny slit, spraying steaming cum into the girl's helpless mouth, while Lillian gagged and felt her face going red with the sudden outburst.
He roared out his passion. He was holding her rigidly in position, waiting for the last spasm to erupt before he released the pressure of his hands and allowed her to move her lips along the wet, still quivering stem and escape from its choking.
Tiny flecks of white froth clung to Lillian's mouth as she brought her face free and fought for air. He had ejaculated so much that dribbles were still escaping and clinging to the girl's soft red lips.
Cruelly, roughly, his breath coming in harsh rasps, Fleur pulled Lillian to the bed. He threw her down on the coverlet, not bothering to draw back the sheets, and bent over her-watching as the girl's nude body bounced sexily on the well-sprung mattress.
Now her perky, rose-spiked breasts shook like jelly, then quivered until they were again motionless. Her hands remained at her sides, her legs open, her eyes closed in passive surrender.
Demis began to run his hands greedily over her charms, pinching the flesh of her thighs, moving over onto her stomach and kneading roughly the firm, flat skin of her abdomen. His fingers were cruel: they raised red weals on Lillian's white body, marring the beautiful flesh of her breasts with temporary, but ugly-looking blotches....
Lillian groaned under the torment. She knew that his first climax had been only a preliminary. He wanted to ensure he didn't explode into orgasm too soon, while he was enjoying the kind of sex which he really loved!
Of course Lillian had been through this kind of scene too many times with Fleur. She had come to derive a certain amount of pleasure herself from his sadistic, rough usage of her body....
Now he was attempting to roll her upon her belly. He had discontinued fingering her pussy. Lillian turned obediently, tensing herself, then forcing her body to relax as it awaited the next stage of Fleur's perverted love-making.
He clamped his hands onto her ass, spreading the cheeks wide and positioning himself so that he could stare into the division his hands had made. The rudely stretched globes lay directly below Fleur's face: and in the center of the ripe, nude buttocks reposed Lillian's small, tightly wrinkled anus.
Her little hole was forced open by the attitude of her ass. It winked up at him, a faintly brown orifice with tender pink flesh surrounding it; the indentation itself looking moist and very vulnerable...as if it might tear very easily if pressure were brought to bear on it.
Fleur juggled her cheeks slowly, making them wobble seductively, the heavy orbs pliant beneath his hands as Lillian kept her muscles deliberately slack for him. He could see the faint marks where the edge of her panties had cut into the soft white flesh. The barely discernible lines scored into the ripe mounds a little distance from the curve of the cheeks, since Lillian wore briefs that fitted very snugly and tightly around her crotch and buttocks.
Now he raised the beautiful globes-there, just under the natural indent of her flesh crease, was a firmer, more pronounced indentation-where the reinforced silk of the panties had bit lovingly into the girl's ass, molding securely to the jutting flesh and providing it with a tight swathe of semi-protection.
Fleur began to dig the fingernails of his right hand into the resilient flesh of one buttock. With his free hand he delved deeply into the wide crease between the cheeks; spreading his fingers so that they could touch as much of the warm, intimate skin of Lillian's butt as possible.
At first he merely stroked across the sensitive bud of her anus, feeling the girl squirm involuntarily as his fingers roamed over the pouting hole of her back passage. He tickled the place, re-crossing and re-crossing it with the very tips of his fingers until the poor girl was in a state of frantic anxiety....
"My God! Please!" she moaned into the pillow, tightening her little hands into fists. "Oh, please, Demis! Don't torment me like this!"
Cruely, almost viciously, he smiled at her, savoring her pleas and having not the slightest intention of answering them.
"Hey, baby, what's the matter? Don't you like what I'm doing to you?"
Lillian gasped. "Oooh!" She tried to tighten the muscles of her ass but Fleur was holding the left cheek too tightly-and his other hand was, in any case, firmly thrust between the pouting, uptilted orbs.
"Look baby, if you don't like it...., " he warned, "I may have to tie you down! Now, you don't want me to do that, do you, darling?"
"Oh my God no! I'll-I'll keep still! Honestly I will Demis! Please don't tie me up!"
She could already hear him delving into one of the open suitcases which lay on the floor of the hotel room. His hand had left her ass, only one set of fingers remaining to press her tightly down into the coverlet. And soon she felt the harsh fiber of a rope being passed over her...as Fleur trailed it teasingly across her bare back before tightening it in a clever loop over one wrist.
There was really no point in her attempting to struggle. Lillian knew from past experience that the result would be the same whatever she did. Despite his slenderness, Fleur was a wiry and extremely strong young man. However desperately she might try to stop what he was doing to her, in the end he would prevail....
A violent trembling began throughout her entire body as Fleur went about his task of roping her wrists to the top of the bed and her ankles to the bottom-in both cases, keeping her limbs as far splayed as they would stretch. Lillian's shuddering was part-fear, part-anticipation. She had been introduced to the by-ways of normal sexual experience a long time ago-but whenever Fleur imposed his will on her and forced her to submit to whatever kinky delights might please him, she felt a suppressed excitement that was in sharp contrast to the revulsion and disgust which one part of her mind endured.
It seemed, as Fleur had philosophized so many times, merely an attempt at reviving a jaded palate. There was nothing essentially perverted in any human action-and if he chose to render his sex-partner utterly helpless on occasion...well, what harm did it really cause to either of them?
And he was just as willing, if the mood took him, to adopt the passive role himself. But this time, possibly to celebrate some private triumph of which Lillian knew nothing so far, Fleur wanted to take her while she was bound and helpless....
She began feeling his hands pulling on the ropes to make absolutely sure that she was trussed and unable to do more than squirm impotently, Lillian tingled with strange excitement. Her limbs were stretched out, her arms slightly raised so that her breasts just brushed against the silky coverlet; causing her nipples to itch with an erotic, disturbing ticklishness. She was lying face down, her long, white legs forming an inverted "vee:" the lips of her sex unavoidably drawn open by the stance her thighs had been forced to assume.
Fleur next double-checked the knots, then again passed his hands lovingly over his victim's body. This time, his fingers gloated with the lightest possible touch-barely making contact with the girl's nude flesh; running like a feather over the inside of her thighs so that Lillian writhed in sweet torment, awaiting the more intimate fondling which she knew would not be long delayed....
One more time, his hands pried open the beauty of her butt cheeks. Again, Fleur examined the tiny hole of her anus with his eyes-stretching the milky-white globes apart and letting his fingers sink deeply into their giving, pink flesh.
Now he burrowed a long forefinger into the crease and this time inserted it into Lillian. The digit described a continuous circle as it moved inwards, worming around and around, slowly separating the inner skin to make way for his inspection of the tiny hole.
The flesh yielded without fuss to his finger after it had surged in an inch or two. Fleur's face was now but a short distance away watching as the finger sunk out of sight, prodding obscenely forward into the tightness of Lillian's butt and examining the soft, moist opening.
Fleur's penis, however, was still lying limply in front of his loins; it required more stimulation before it would again resume its potency. But Fleur was in no great hurry. The first wave of his desire had been dimmed by his climax in Lillian's mouth-and he intended to prolong the exquisite tormenting of her helpless body.
Casually, he frigged his forefinger in and out of the girl's lusciously tight butt. And his other hand slid beneath her body, under the lush whiteness of her belly and, palm-upwards, to the bushy mound which flourished above her sex.
A soft, sweet piteous series of moans were being wrung from Lillian as she lay defenseless, facedown on the bed. Her body arched and vibrated with desire; the softness of her tummy moving under Fleur's fingers as he slowly groped them further down and began to fondle his way into her long, wet-lipped femininity.
Now her pubic hair parted, the strands falling back as he tickled his fingers through the heated forest and felt them touch the intimate, incredibly soft mouth of Lillian's open gash. Like a stiff and enlarged nipple, her clitoris pulsed against his probing finger. The red gristle was covered with love cream, coated in a generous layer of the girl's love-juice and itching so powerfully that she could hardly stop herself from screaming out loud....
Fleur had a particularly long nail on his index-finger. It curved out from the digit in a wicked, sharp talon, and he now used it to scratch lightly but tormentingly at Lillian's highly sensitive little organ.
Lillian thrust her face down into the pillow, stifling the urge to yell and shriek with a truly overwhelming ecstasy. The ropes chafed against her wrists and ankles as the girl thrashed with wild passion; but the tightness of her bonds was scarcely felt by Lillian now. She could feel one part of her body being teased and tickled-and this was the part where she most wanted to feel a strong, powerful touch!
Fleur was driving her slowly insane with his very deliberate and very gentle fondling of her little groove. He was judging the pressure of his fingernail with great precision: making the contact with her clitoris so that Lillian was tormented almost beyond endurance. Softly and tenderly, he roved his other fingers carefully into the actual hole of her quim-bunching them up so that the three smaller fingers were completely inserted in the small but elastic slit.
All the while, his thumb remained outside her wound, thoughtfully pressing and relaxing against Lillian's lower pubis; prodding the slight bulge with a slow, methodical tapping that was almost as hard to bear as the rest of his "treatment."
Never could you find a doctor who would have been more considerate, more gentle! Lillian squirmed and writhed in vain: he simply refused to give her the fierce, glorious frigging for which her cunt yearned!
However, his fondling of her anus was nevertheless sadistic and punishing. Fleur-s forefinger dipped in and out of the smaller orifice, thrusting down into the tiny space with brutal lust-almost as if his two hands belonged to completely different people! One was behaving with maniacal fury-frigging without mercy in and out of Lillian's sore and flushed anus-while the other was being far too kind and gentle with the girl's quim.
By now, Fleur had regained his potency. His shaft stuck up proudly once more, its thick crest pulsing against Lillian's out-flung thigh as she lay powerless as a trussed turkey...her body totally at the American's disposal!
Lillian could feel it beating and riding on her flesh; the vigorous throbbing and the concentrated heat making the prick seem to her deranged senses like a red-hot branding iron....
Fleur began breathing deeply again, fighting to control his lust and the urge to throw himself on top of the girl and lay her. A violent contest raged within him. He wanted to screw Lillian-but the sensations which her helpless body was giving him were too agreeable to be easily thwarted. He knew that despite all her efforts-and Lillian was working her entire body in frenzied abandon, pumping her butt, and the lush beauty of her hips up and down-she could never reach a complete orgasm unless he helped her.
Certainly, she might be able to revolve her loins, screw them round and round to create as much friction as possible inside her quim...but Lillian's climax would be incomplete and puny-giving her more frustration rather than the fulfillment she needed so desperately....
Now Fleur managed to sustain his tormenting of the girl for another ten minutes before his own lust compelled him to use his pole on her. Snarling, he twisted both his hands away from her and swung himself on top of her body.
Lillian gasped as she felt his weight plumping down on her back, his belly coming down hard and riding into her buttocks. But she breathed a silent prayer of thanks all the same. At last-at last! She was going to be screwed....
Fleur now grabbed his length and thrust his stiff meat down under Lillian's thighs. He rubbed it briefly along the parted slit of her slot, then strained forward so that the eager length of his sex could begin its penetration.
"My God! Aaahhhhhhh!" Lillian's body shook from head to toe with emotion as she felt the hard rod sinking quickly into her soaking snatch. It rode up and up...pushing strongly against the wet flesh and separating the walls of her slit until they stretched to their limit. She tensed her hips and pushed backwards, at the same time raising herself as much as her bonds would permit so that she could feel the cock deep in the secret depths of her quim.
Fleur now thrust upwards until Lillian's slot had accepted every inch of his dick. Then, manhandling the globes of her ass, he twisted the cheeks cruelly open so that he could feel the heat from her rear passage burning against his crotch. Pressing down hard, he kept the girl's buttocks apart with his body-freeing his hands and enabling them to reach upwards towards the ripe prize of her breasts.
As his fingers closed around her teats, Fleur started with a fierce, ramming rhythm; withdrawing his rod and urging it forward into the sticky depths again to the accompaniment of wild cries and grunts of desire.
With his stick half buried to the hilt in the satiny mounds of her breasts, both of his hands twisted and tore at the yielding tit-flesh. They mauled and groped at the beautiful orbs, pressing them tightly against one another, pulling them downwards, thrusting them up so that they creamed thrillingly towards Lillian's throat.
The erected swelled hardness of her nipples received no mercy from his nails. Fleur raked the tips of his fingers across the erect teats-punishing and tormenting them...his pincer-like grip on the red stalks making them darken and grow to an incredible length.
To any observer, neither of them were any longer human beings enjoying the ecstasy of romantic love. Both Fleur and Lillian shed the last scraps of decency and inhibition, the man giving full vent to his rape-like lust and the girl urging him on with cries of shrill, animal anguish.
As he viciously made each upward stroke, the hapless girl reared her buttocks into the air. Fleur's stiff member was making her sex a willing receptacle for his lashing, hard-thrusting assault. Wilder and wilder they screwed. The heat of their bodies soon covered the pair in moist, salty perspiration; making their naked flesh stick together and become even more tightly fused.
Now Fleur could feel his dong battering into the wetness of Lillian's slit, sinking again and again into the soft but clinging tube-and he groped one hand down the front of her body so that he could feel, for just a few minutes, the pressure of his weapon as it throbbed inside the girl's body.
With his fingers on the hard, hair-covered pubis, he pressed into the mound and was able to feel. through the layers of skin and muscle, the vigorous pushing of his charger riding up and down the inner slit. He fondled there for a while, enjoying the sensation of her soaking upper lips beneath his fingers, and then Fleur retraced his hand over the sleek, writhing flesh of her stomach and returned his fingers to her breast.
"No! My God, no! I can't go on!" she screamed suddenly. "Oh, Christ-I can't stand any more of this!"
Lillian had been worked up into a seething, scarcely conscious state of excitement. It was impossible for her to even contemplate opening her eyes; the lashes felt glued down by some enormous weight. And instead of humping her body up and down, she began to squirm her hips in a fitful, irregular surging...grinding her crotch so that it worked around and around Fleur's extension-milking it and drawing on the knob with every atom of her muscular control.
Fleur continued to ram into her, oblivious to the girl's rapidly approaching climax-practically oblivious to the girl herself in his rage of orgasm. For Fleur, too, was long past even the possibility of controlling his orgasm. He could feel the fluid gathering itself like a whirlpool in his loins: creaming rapidly into a thick froth, making his entire body pulse with a fearsome, organic beating....
Now surges of tremendous power welled through his lean, taut frame. He couldn't slam his rod into that sticky, limitless hole fast enough! In and out it drove...until Fleur teetered on the brink of a terrifying chasm-his mind stretched to a breaking point as the full culmination of his lust broke out!
Fleur's mouth opened and his teeth closed savagely on the white, warm shoulder blade of the girl he was loving. Biting without regard for the tender flesh, Fleur drew blood and sucked it vampire-like down his throat as he felt his tool jerking in the throes of climax: the long, thick organ stretching out and shaking violently inside Lillian's sheath as it finally erupted.
Throughout his coming the girl kept twisting her hips and agitating the dork which foamed up into her womb. She wrung every ounce from it, at the same time loosening the fruit of her own desire and releasing a fountain of hot, thin syrup which flowed sweetly over his ejaculating tool....
Fleur began sobbing with emotion. His dong was still being squeezed with remorseless tightness by Lillian-until it felt as if the girl was actually trying to pull it away from his body and have it forever buried in her gluey, insatiable slit!
It was still curdling with sperm, still shooting a steady stream of hot fire up into the girl!
Now his body quivered, strained, and he could hear his heart beating frantically under the strain. No more! his mind pleaded. I'll go crazy...No more!
She seemed to be draining his very life-blood out of him, hungrily sucking up the precious spunk and demanding more, more, more!
Fleur suddenly went completely limp. His body collapsed on top of Lillian's trembling flesh, the supply of juice finally exhausted. He closed his eyes, part of his mind still vaguely aware that she was still grinding beneath him; working her tight little funnel around and around...arching her spine so that her bottom squirmed deliriously against his belly, his perspiration-soaked belly....
"You gotta be putting me on. You're telling me you're going to do what?"
Lillian's disbelieving cry only made Fleur grin and nod a cheerful affirmation.
"That's it, baby, you heard me right-I'm going to make the first feature-length, all talkie, all color, wide screen sex movie."
Lillian searched his face carefully for a few moments, trying to find a hint that Fleur was kidding. When she realized that he was in deadly earnest Lillian propped herself up on one elbow and began to chuckle. He took the cigarette they were sharing out of her hand and put it between his lips. The white tube was stained pink at one end with her lipstick, and it tasted sweet in Fleur's mouth. He took a long drag and gave it back to her.
"Demis, you don't think you'll get away with it?", Lillian cried. "When they realize what kind of film you're shooting, they'll--. "
Demis Fleur laughed. "Why should they ever find out?" he said casually. He had a faraway look in his eyes, lying on his back, staring at the white ceiling with Lillian beside him on the rumpled bed. "The first thing Mason will know about it is when he sits his fat ass down in the preview theatre and watches his brain-child being unreeled!
"More accurately," he corrected himself. "My brain trust! I've waited a couple of years for this chance, baby. I've got it all worked out: he'll never know what I'm doing until the shit hits the fan!"
"What about the actors?" Lillian protested. "Surely you won't get them to perform in that kind of movie? And what about the technicians....? "
But her voice began to trail away as she followed Fleur's eyes and saw the equipment he had brought over from the 'States.
"That's the whole shooting match, baby!" Fleur commented. "I figured out everything! I've got my own cameras, my own cameramen! All I have to do is tell Mason that these are new-style lenses and baffle him with double-talk about his camera crew not being able to use my latest equipment-he'll be only too willing to save a few bucks on his own gear!
"Actors? Roxie is going to star in the movie, and I've got a couple of other people who are in on the big surprise. They'll take part in anything-for a few kicks and a couple of thousand dollars! And since Mason is obviously going to insist that I use at least some of his own stars....
"For Christ sakes, you don't think I'd have any trouble getting these cock-hungry English bitches to do some sex-scenes? They go pretty far these days in any case. All I have to do is tell them we're just getting them warmed up...that we're not really shooting-just practicing!"
Now a new kind of awe came into Lillian's eyes as she understood Demis Fleur's plan. She had always admired him, always respected him as a man of great integrity even if his eccentricities led some people to call him perverted and corrupt. When he announced that he was going to England to film for a commercial studio, she had suffered momentary doubts. It seemed as if her idol had sold out to the Establishment after all.. .
She began now to fully realize what he intended to do. Fleur was going to show up the film industry in a way that had never been done before: he was going to take a moderately sexy, "tits-and-tease" screenplay and turn it into the kind of movie everyone was afraid to make-a genuine, big-budget sexual epic!
It certainly was a large scale gesture-the first real eruption of the Underground into commercial and vested interests. All the same, Lillian mused-speaking her thoughts aloud to Fleur-it was a pity that nobody other than Mason and his underlings would actually see the film. After that first private preview (dramatic and satisfying though it might be), his film would be burnt down to the last negative and print.. .
"No it won't either!" Fleur grinned. "Because I've got a couple of other ideas for this little baby of mine! First, I'm sending a print to the Edinburgh Festival. With my name on the director credit, and with all those damned art movie awards behind me, it shouldn't be too difficult to get it entered in the main competition.
"So what we do is make it a mystery presentation, dig? This film has got to have so much advance publicity that, although no one will have seen it, everyone will be itching to buy tickets!"
Now, the first wave of Fleur's excitement at outlining his scheme to Lillian was fading. Gloomily, he went on:
"Matter of fact, that sonofabitch, Mason, will probably make a fortune out of it! If he doesn't have a heart attack at the preview we run for him, he'll get his money back on the Scandinavian screenings alone! Then, if he puts a team of cutters on it, he can trim the obscene parts and still have enough left over to show it all over the world."
Fleur sighed and reached for the cigarette again.
"What the hell!" he shrugged. "We'll have a lot of fun making it, won't we, baby? And that's what really counts-doing the thing, not wondering how it's gonna turn out!"
Viciously, he stabbed the half-smoked butt out and pulled Lillian into his arms. Thoughtfully, his hands traced the red weals which the ropes had left around both the girl's wrists.
"Baby, you'd better put some cream on your arms," he said softly. "They won't look too good in close-up like that!"
Lillian flushed. "You-you want me in the film?" she murmured. "I can't act, Demis; I wouldn't be any good...."
"Man, you'd be too much!" He let his finger remain on her wrists, lightly touching the chafe burns as if they fascinated him to the point of obsession. "I can't think of anyone who'd be better for the kinky scenes, Lillian! You inspire me....
Now, for a bad second or two, she held herself back from his embrace. Was that all she meant to Fleur, Lillian wondered? Was she just a source of perverted pleasure to him-an object rather than a person?
But now his potent magic began to work...and the girl relaxed against his nude body, her mind countering the rational objections and forgetting everything except the nearness and the excitement of her lover as he surged into her once more.