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Three-Way Weekend by Kitty Spencer

Chapter 1

The two young men strolling along Sutter Street might have been
brothers. Each was tall, each had the same lightly tanned, dark-haired
good looks, and the same Italian ancestry showed in the boned modeling
of both faces. But Nino and Carlo were unrelated by direct blood ties.
They considered themselves to be business partners.

They walked with easy strides toward the rows of cafe tables that lined
the garden court restaurant, ignoring the San Franciscians and tourists
who strolled past them. Typically, Carlo was half pace in the lead.

"Let’s sit here," he suggested, reaching for a chair at a back row
table. They sat down and lit cigarettes, each taking from his own pack.

Nino produced a pair of sunglasses from the breast pocket of his jacket
and put them on. It was April; the sunshine was already bright.

Carlo clicked his fingers in the direction of a white jacketed waiter
who immediately gave a nod of recognition.

"How goes it, George?" Carlo greeted the waiter as the man hurried to
the table.

"I survive," George grinned. "What’ll it be, gentlemen."

"Coffee, amico." Nino ordered the same.

The two young men leaned back in their chairs, each taking in the scene
around him with a practiced gaze. Only a third of the outdoor tables
were occupied, for the tourist season had hardly begun. There were
still more pigeons than people in the court. Simultaneously they caught
sight of the girl walking across the patio.

She was not beautiful, exactly, but she was attractive in a strangely
exciting way. Shining in the sunlight, her straight blonde hair hung
almost to her shoulders. She walked with a languid, long-legged gait,
unhurried and graceful. And her figure superb.

Twenty or twenty-one, Carlo estimated. More importantly, he could tell
at a glance that although she was casually dressed, her clothes were
undoubtedly expensive. And she possessed that air of impeccable
carelessness that belongs only to rich men’s daughters!

"Nino, my friend," Carlo murmured, leaning across the table, "Nino—
you’d better get to work. Business is already beginning to look good
this year …"

"Did you fix up about the apartment?" Nino asked. The sun blazed
momentarily from Nino’s dark glasses as the boy turned toward his
companion.

Carlo nodded.

"It’s all arranged. I checked everything with the landlord. Including
the rent. It’s ours for the season."

"How’d you get the place so cheap?" Nino’s lower lip formed a
suspicious pout.

"The landlord is a friend of mine …" Shrugging, Carlo let his voice
trail off.

Nino’s petulant expression changed into a satisfied smile. Carlo had
more "friends" in San Francisco than anyone else Nino knew. Of course,
in Carlo’s line of business, one either had friends—or one starved.
There was no middle course.

For the official record, Carlo was a tourist guide. In reality, he was
a highly versatile procurer.

Their coffee arrived, and Carlo and Nino began discussing the tourist
season as they drank it.

"Christ—but I hope it’s better than last year," Nino muttered as he
glanced toward the table where the blonde-haired girl sat. "I nearly
broke my back on those women, and not one of them turned out to be
worth more than a week’s keep."

"When one aims high," remarked Carlo, "one must be patient. This year,
maybe you’ll find your dream girl. The dream girl who’ll be young,
beautiful, rich—and very, very stupid."

Carlo grinned maliciously to himself. Nino glanced at him, annoyed, his
mouth setting in a pouting sulk. Even with his eyes hidden behind the
sunglasses, his features were expressive. Nino had long been aware that
women found his mobile features distractingly charming.

"Is Benito going to share the apartment with us?" he asked, changing
the subject.

"Probably. He’s supposed to meet us here to let us know definitely."

"I wouldn’t have thought he needed an apartment. Those rich old gals he
gets always have luxury suites in the best hotels. Or else they rent a
plush apartment."

Nino’s voice betrayed jealousy. He sometimes wished he were less
fastidious but, much as he worshipped money, he couldn’t bring himself
to court and sleep with older women. "It offends my sense of the
aesthetic," he had tried to explain to Carlo on more than one occasion.
"It’s almost like a perversion, but in reverse. If they’re older than
thirty, l can’t screw them no matter how beautiful. It won’t come up
properly." Carlo’s response had always been both lewd and
unsympathetic.

"Maybe Benito just wants some place to relax," Carlo suggested, his
tone, as it frequently was, bored and noncommittal. "His mother’s an
overpowering woman. He needs some freedom."

Two o’clock was chiming from the nearby clock tower when they saw
Benito hurrying across the patio toward them. His short, stocky figure
moved along briskly with quick, neat movements, his light brown hair
ruffled slightly in the faint breeze. He gave the impression of an
overfed bird.

"Ciao," he greeted as he dropped into a chair between Carlo and Nino.
Then, in the next breath: "Can’t stop long. I’ve got an important
appointment."

"Already?" Carlo raised an approving eyebrow.

Benito nodded. "The first of many, I hope," he smirked. "At the
Fairmont. Not bad—only a small suite, but her luggage looks
promising."

"Are you planning to include the luggage in your sex games?" Carlo
asked. The thought intrigued him momentarily; within the limited scope
of Carlo’s interests, bizarre sexuality ranked high. Benito grimaced
and helped himself to a cigarette from Carlo’s pack.

"About the apartment …" he began, as if Carlo had not spoken.
Immediately, the atmosphere changed. This was business. Carlo sat
forward in his chair.

"Yes. Here’s the deal …"

After his short explanatory statement, the three men discussed the
project community rental. At first, Benito balked at the price, then
reconsidered and finally agreed to join in, signaling his agreement
with a jabbing nod of the head.

"Done," he said. He held out his hand. Carlo clasped it briefly; so did
Nino. Benito stood up. In the next moment, with a hurried "Ciao" tossed
over his shoulder, Benito was away and halfway across the court. The
other two men gazed speculatively at his rapidly disappearing figure.

"I wonder if Benito cums as fast as he does everything else," mused
Carlo. "I should think those older women of his would hardly have time
to spread their legs before Benito’s all through."

Nino gave a short laugh, but his attention was centered elsewhere. A
group of four girls was being seated at a table only a few yards away.
There was much breathless giggling and whispering as they settled down.
Without being obvious about it, Nino appraised them with expert speed:
they were all in their late teens. He shrugged. They weren’t worth
bothering about.

Still, a practice run always smoothed his vanity. Nino laughed again,
this time throwing his head back and displaying his perfect set of
white, even teeth. The girls looked toward him.

"When can we start using the apartment?" he asked Carlo, still playing
his side-line game. He leaned back and made much of lighting another
cigarette, spinning the spent match toward a bunch of pigeons. The
birds fluttered off, regrouping a few yards away.

"Next week. D’you think you’ll be using the place much?"

"Who knows?" Nino shrugged elaborately. "Every night, God willing …"

"For me, it will be useful mainly as an office," Carlo remarked. "Of
course, there may be an occasion when I need the place for a night. But
I will usually make other arrangements. Otherwise, you and Benito can
work it out between the two of you."

"Do we use the same arrangement as last year? To let the other know
when the apartment’s being used, I mean."

"Whoever wants the place calls the other two, to make sure we don’t
clash. If our … uh, schedules clash, whoever had the apartment last
has to miss a turn."

Carlo paused slightly before adding: "And, to make sure there are no
accidents, as you go through the downstairs lobby, leave the mailbox
door flapping open. In the first place, it’s a signal to the other two
that you’re in residence. Secondly, checking the mailbox makes it seem
right to the woman with you, as if you really lived there."

"Bene." Nino’s gaze drifted, as if by chance, to the table occupied by
the four young girls. "The one in red is pretty," he commented, "but
they look as though they’ve come off some cheap tour. They’re probably
counting every dollar they have."

"They’ll get a shock when they see their bill," smiled Carlo. "Unless,
of course, they find someone foolish enough to pay for it."

"Not enough tourists around. Only another tourist would bother with
them."

"There’ll be plenty soon. The season’s beginning to warm up." Carlo
drank the last of his coffee. "I’ve a couple of tours lined up already
for this week. And next week … it sounds promising. I have a batch of
teenagers on my hands for three whole days. One of those educational
trips."

"The Count will be delighted to hear the news."

"Yeah. They’re just his type. Fifteen and sixteen. Although I heard
he’s been diddling a kid of thirteen—the daughter of his housekeeper,
or so the rumor goes "

"So young?"

"He needs them younger every year. The Count’s reaching the point
where, as soon as they grow hair between their thighs, he loses
interest."

Supplying the Count with suitable bed material was indeed becoming a
problem, thought Carlo, pouring himself a glass of water from the
carafe on the table. He drained the glass in a single swallow.

As he was setting the empty glass back on the table, he caught sight of
the blonde-haired girl again. "Nino, my friend," he said, rising, "I
think I’ll leave you to your work."

Nino’s brow knitted. Then following Carlo’s gaze, he smiled. "Ciao, my
friend …"

Chapter 2

After leaving Carlo and Nino, Benito headed for the Fairmont. He did
not stop to wait for a cable car. With his trotting walk, he could get
there faster on foot. To avoid the solid mass of tourists blocking the
street which led from the cafe to the hotel, Benito ducked through a
series of alleyways so narrow that they remained in almost permanent
semi-darkness. They smelled of cafe kitchens and cats.

Christ! Benito thought, glancing at the gold watch he had recently
acquired. Nearly two-thirty, and he’d promised to be at the hotel by
two. Hannah would be angry with him. He couldn’t help admiring the way
the watch looked on his wrist. The solid gold bracelet band showed up
well just beneath his shirt cuff. As he almost ran through the narrow
alleys, Benito held out his left arm momentarily to admire the effect
again. It occurred to him that he could do with a gold signet ring.
Carlo had a beauty that looked very impressive. A businessman needed a
signet ring, really. He’d have to explain about it to Hannah.

Benito did not check with the desk clerk at the hotel. The hotel staff
all knew him by now. The first couple of times he had come in he had
asked for his women clients by name, but he no longer bothered. As he
ran toward the elevator, Benito saw out of the corner of his eye that
the desk clerk had lifted the house phone. He would be telling Hannah
that Benito was on his way up.

"Honey, whatever took you so long?" Hannah Stanford’s voice did not
quite succeed in concealing her irritation.

"My landlady asked me to help her. She wanted furniture moved," Benito
lied quickly. He always told his women friends that he had a landlady.
He never told them about his mother; it would not have seemed decent.

"You silly boy! You let people take advantage of you—you really do!"
The older woman sounded happier already. "Now then, be an angel and get
your poor Hannah a nice, long drink. I’m nearly dying of thirst. The
gin’s over there. And go easy on the ice cubes."

Benito handed the drink to her and noticed for the first time that she
was dressed only in a lace negligee, her voluptuously preserved curves
almost completely visible beneath it.

Oh God! thought Benito, she wants it now, and, man, am I tired!

"Come and sit beside me like a good, sweet lover-boy," Hannah said,
patting the sofa.

Obediently, the chubby youth perched beside her. Although the shades
were half-drawn over the window, enough sunlight filtered into the room
for him to see that Hannah wore nothing underneath the flimsy garment;
one of the woman’s pink nipples was plainly visible pushing up through
the expensive lace.

Suddenly he stood up and walked over to the window. From there, he
said, "We shall be late. I wanted to take you to lunch in Tiburon
today."

"Lunch, smunch! Who cares about food?" She waved her arm in the air and
some of the gin slopped over onto the sofa. "Stop pacing about all the
time, lover! You make me dizzy. For God’s sake, come and sit down." Her
voice took on its familiar whine. "Come and give poor Hannah a kiss."

With a quick, bird-like step, Benito was across the room and bending
over to kiss the woman on the cheek. She clutched at his shoulders as
he leaned over and forced his head around so that his lips were pressed
against her mouth.

"There, that’s better, isn’t it?" she said in a satisfied tone, and
then put a ring-burdened hand on Benito’s leg. An upward movement, and
then her hand began rubbing his thigh. For a moment, Benito
disinterestedly watched her fingers massaging his flesh, and then the
sparkle of the diamond rings reminded him. He took her hand in his and
lifted it to his lips.

"You have beautiful hands," he said smoothly.

"Yeah, Art used to tell me that, too."

Benito had been told all about Art. He had been Hannah’s husband for
what she referred to, from the smugness of widowhood, as "twenty-five
truly felicitous years." Mention of her husband’s name made the youth
nervous because it invariably started Hannah thinking about bed. Art,
according to Hannah, had been able "to give it to me as often as I
wanted it, and I always wanted it plenty!" And poor Art had died at
forty-six, Benito reflected gloomily …

"I would like a signet ring, I think," he said bluntly. With the older
woman in such a mood, he knew he was wasting his time being
circumspect. "It would suit me, no?"

"You may be right. Show me your hand."

Benito held his hand out for her inspection. She stared at it for a
moment.

"You could be right," she repeated. Then, without warning, she seized
his hand and pressed it down hard between her thighs. With her other
arm, she pulled the boy down hard on top of her.

"Take me, take me," she moaned into Benito’s ear. "Like this, now!
Quickly!"

Pulling himself away, he asked, "Don’t you want to go into the
bedroom?"

In answer, Hannah moaned even more demandingly, and her voluptuously
mature body started to writhe beneath him. One of her hands groped at
his fly.

"We can go into the bedroom later," she gasped, her face flushed and
perspiring slightly as her fingers fumbled with Benito’s clothes. "I
can’t wait for that now! Give it to me, Baby, give it to me!"

Moments later, he was free of his clothing and she eagerly pulled him
to the sofa. Her body was lost in the fire of the moment and every
muscle was tensed as she strained her loins upward in an effort to
capture the virile long shaft of flesh that pressed so tightly against
the soft skin of her thighs. The nakedly chubby youth levered her legs
up onto the cushions so that she lay full-length on the couch, then
pried her thighs far apart and climbed up between them positioning his
body over her eagerly writhing form.

Hannah could see the boy hovering over her through her lust-glazed eyes
and she felt the hugeness of his fleshy hardness lying against the full
length of her impatiently quivering vaginal slit. The lurching head of
his stone-hard cock was hot between her wide-spread buttocks, and was
insinuating itself up and down the desire-moistened crevice in a lewd,
teasing little motion that sent her hips twisting upwards in a
desperate attempt to capture the hard, lust-engorged top that would
fill her aching need. Her belly was screaming to be filled—she had to
have it in her!

At last, in a panic of frustration, she reached her hands down between
their bodies and grasped the full length of the rampantly searching
prick. Her tightly-closed fist stroked up and down the thick hard shaft
for a moment, feeling its heaving pulse against her soft palms and the
warm sticky fluid that seeped in tiny white driblets from the blood-
inflated head. Then, she guided it into her cuntal crevice, carefully
positioning it between the moisture covered lips of her vagina. She
steadied it there with one hand and placed the other on the youth’s
buttocks, drawing with all her strength to pull it into her and let it
drown the gnawing hot heat that burned out of control in her belly. Her
eyes closed in ecstasy as she felt its first soft electrical contact
against the sensitive ragged edges of her moistly hungering pussy, then
she held her breath for what seemed like an eternity as she lay in
utter wantonness beneath the youth, waiting for him to impale her on
his massive rod of rigid, pulsating flesh.

"Oh God, hurry, baby! Hurry!" she pleaded, splaying her legs even wider
to give him greater access to her open cunt.

In answer, Hannah felt her soft pubic hair and the lips around her
throbbing vagina being pressured open by the thick head, and she moaned
softly at the contact against the tight elastic opening of her cock-
hungry pussy.

"Aaaaaaagh," she gasped as the huge tip slipped through the tight
opening, stretching the vertical little mouth until she was certain
that her thighs must be splitting apart from the relentless outward
pressure.

"Ooooooooooah, oooooooooh!" she cried out. "It’s too much.
Noooooooooo!" Her eyes jerked open in fear and she saw his lust-
contorted face. The Italian youth was lost in the rapture of her body
and did not realize how much he was hurting her as he ceaselessly
pressed his long hard penis into the warm softness of her painfully
stretching vagina.

Suddenly, his no longer innocent-looking face twisted into an evil leer
as he looked down and saw the older woman helplessly spread-eagled
beneath him with the pulsating head of his cock disappearing into the
soft curling hair of her pussy. He fell forward, his weight smashing
her full rounded breasts tightly back against her chest. He rammed his
hips forward at the same time with all the strength in his thighs and
buttocks, and his long thick cock slid into her cunt like a driving
piston, pushing the soft moist flesh of her vaginal walls in tiny
rippling waves before it. There was no stopping it until with a loud
slap his balls slammed heavily down on the cheeks of her tightly-
clenched ass. Her legs jerked out wide on either side of his young
muscular body, splaying out over the side of the couch and kicking
futilely into the air as her deeply split buttocks screwed themselves
deep into the cushions in a frantic attempt to escape the sudden
impalement.

"Oooooooooooh! Oooooooooooooh!" she wailed beneath him. She had never
felt so completely filled in her life and his heavy, rock-hard cock
felt as though it had torn her vagina into a million tiny shreds as he
had speared into her narrow passage. The fiery plunging rod felt as
though it was coming up out of her throat as the lustfully inflated,
mushroom-shaped head pressed hard back up against her cervix, the thick
lengthy shaft filling her belly to the bursting point. There was not a
single tiny ridge of flesh on the rock-hard, heavily-veined cock that
she could not feel as the walls of her cunt clasped around the shaft as
tightly as a hot moist glove. She lay trembling for a moment beneath
him, trying to adjust to the presence of the monstrous intruding cudgel
in her belly.

Then the young boy suddenly began a slow rocking motion between her
wide-held thighs. As Hannah groaned helplessly beneath him, Benito
could feel the narrow stretched pussy channel widening slightly with
each short smooth stroke. He looked down and could see his curly pubic
hair tangling tightly with hers each time the length of his thick
fleshy rod burrowed deep into the pinkly throbbing furrow up between
her legs. He could see the tight little lips of her cunt stretched
almost to the bursting point, the rubbery outer pink rim clasping
tightly around his wetly glistening shaft as it slowly plunged in and
out of her.

Hannah twitched beneath him as her body rapidly became accustomed to
the huge skewering prick and began to react to the slow, hypnotic
rhythm of his cock pistoning into the sensitive opening of her vagina.

Benito felt her begin to thrash and fuck back up beneath him, and he
quickened his thrusts, grabbing her flailing legs behind the knees and
shoving them roughly back against her shoulders until her ankles locked
tightly behind his neck. Her body was bent back almost double and the
wetly gleaming pink plane of her pussy was presented up to his driving
lunges. Staring down between their bodies, he slowly withdrew the
deeply embedded instrument until just the tip of the head rested within
the swollen wet lips of her pussy then rammed forward with all his
youthful energy, driving the full, throbbing length of his lust-incited
member deep into her helplessly exposed vagina. Then again, and again;
each wet, flat smack of his hips thudding against her pelvis resounding
through the room. His hands insinuated themselves between the cushions
and the white full cheeks of her ass, and the young Italian cupped them
in his spread fingers and palms, kneading the warmly soft flesh,
pulling the white rounded globes far apart. His muscular shoulders
pushing against the back of her full rounded calves kept her locked in
that helpless position while he rammed his long fiery rod into her
moistly dilated pussy, sweeping her buttocks wider and wider apart with
each powerful forward lunge of his young straining loins.

Hannah groaned defenselessly beneath him, her flushed face showing a
mixture of feelings- pain and pleasure. She was powerless to move as he
buffeted her helpless body along the couch cushions, driving her up
toward the arm of the sofa with every pounding lunge. Even her arms
were pinned down at her sides by her own updrawn legs and she could
feel the giant blood-filled head sliding up and down inside her warm
viscous passage like a well-oiled piston. His sperm-bloated balls
slapped loudly against her anus each time he crushed his loins down
into the valley of her buttocks, and wafts of cool air rushed
maddeningly between her wide-spread thighs every time he withdrew. His
hands cupped her full heaving breasts, twisting and squeezing and
tugging at the hard pink nipples until the older woman thought that
they would surely burst from the youth’s wild manipulation of them.

Suddenly her face contorted into an unrecognizable mask of wild
abandoned passion. Her womb flared and the tightly resisting lips of
her hair-lined vaginal furrow flowered open to receive the delicious
ravishment of her secret genitals. She desperately forced her hands out
from under her pinioned legs and wrapped them around his flexing young
buttocks as her rotating hips slithered wetly upward to devour his
lust-hardened penis. His heavy testicles smacked into the passion-
drenched crevice of her buttocks, making the whole sensitive area
tingle and contract in response to the strange delightful sensation.
Her nails clawed a red streaked path along his back as she pulled him
deep and thrust her belly up harder to skewer herself completely on the
driving hot flesh of his pumping shaft. Her body began to match his
driving thrusts with her own rhythmic thrashings, and the straining
spring of the couch squeaked loudly in time to the two tightly entwined
bodies struggling wildly against- each other. The guttural sounds of
deep panting grunts and groans filled the hotel room, mingling with the
wet noises of sweat soaked flesh smacking sharply against sweat soaked
flesh … and the moist viscous slurp of Benito’s pile-driving cock
fucking madly in and out of her wetly sucking cunt.

"Oooooooh, yessss, ooooooooooh, yesssss," Hannah chanted over and over
to herself as the boy ceaselessly slammed his throbbing, expanding
prick deep into her white rounded belly with long hard lunges. The
youth could feel the cum boiling inside his heated balls as they beat
wildly against her upturned ass. He grunted savagely and quickened his
stroke, grinding hard and deep until his massively pulsating cock bored
far up into the hidden, untouched recesses of her womb. Her breasts
heaved and quivered up against the pressure of his chest, the hardened
nipples digging into his skin.

Nothing mattered to her now but the delicious waves of stormy feeling
in her cunt as his thick impaling shaft drove in and out of her vagina,
ramming in all the way until the blood-engorged head began bouncing
repeatedly off her cervix.

Suddenly, the rich widow shivered under him! "Oh, God! … Yes,
yesssss, I’m cummmmmming. Oh, God, I’m cummmmmmmmming, nowwwwwww!" With
a deep-throated groan, her ripely mature body stiffened and began
vibrating uncontrollably, wet white cum oozing from the throbbing
passage and drowning the Italian boy’s long impaling member with its
sticky warmth.

Benito paused for a moment, then went berserk as she grunted out her
climax against his matted pelvis, her body jerking spasmodically up
against him. His harshly kneading hands pulled the wide-spread cheeks
of her white globular buttocks hard up against his grinding pelvis, and
he rammed his exploding cock all the way to the hilt into the velvet
depths of her softly twitching cunt.

Hannah thought her insides were about to split as she felt the head of
the deep-sunk penis flex and flare into a hugeness that threatened to
tear her belly. Then, suddenly, he erupted, his thick hot liquid
shooting deep up into her widely stretched womb, mixing deliciously
with the juices of her own sensuality. Her mind whirled in a seemingly
endless orgasm as the burning, powerful squirts surged deep inside her,
filling her to overflowing with its hot sticky whiteness. The hot
drenched walls of her cunt clasped and unclasped, working and sucking
around his still driving prick, spilling down into the soft, excitedly
clenching crevice of her buttocks and flooding over his own testicles
and the base of his cock as he continued to fuck relentlessly into her.

Reaching frantically under her squirming buttocks with both hands, she
began to desperately milk at Benito’s dancing balls pressed into the
split of her behind. Her legs jerked out quivering insanely into the
air around his shoulders. The giant prick still continued to throb and
flex, jerking its completion in hot white spurts, filling her womb and
soaking the soft matted pubic hair it was buried in.

"Oh, God, don’t stop, don’t ever stop," she pleaded dazedly. The
starving pores of her cunt sucked at the lurching cock until it finally
gave one last spasmodic jerk and lay limp, far up inside her quivering
belly.

Panting, Benito collapsed wearily across her body, feeling her insides
still gushing forth around his rapidly deflating prick. At last, she
too gave a final jerk and trembled to stillness, her legs splayed
obscenely on either side of his heaving body. Her firm, sculptured body
felt drained of everything, her belly filled to the bursting point with
their hot, sticky-white juices.

Benito lay still for a moment, trying to recover his strength, then
slowly pulled himself off Hannah’s still form, his cock sliding slowly
out of her battered cunt with a lewd wet sound. He could see the wet,
matted furrow of her sex glistening in the fading afternoon light. The
insides of her thighs were heavily smeared with the juices of love that
had run in tiny rivulets out of her vagina to form a pearl-colored pool
between her still wide-spread thighs. Smiling, Hannah looked up at
Benito’s satiated face.

"Now we can go into the bedroom," she sighed, devilishly.

Chapter 3

For the first time in months, Elaine Craig felt relaxed. She sat,
becalmed, in the sunshine-bathed plaza; it was almost as if disaster
had never touched her. On the table in front of her stood a cool gin-
and-tonic. Between sips, the attractive young blonde scribbled brief
messages on the postcards she had bought.

"Now I know why San Francisco is called "Baia de Magnificencia
Tremenda" she wrote to her parents. "This is the most peaceful spot on
earth. I love it."

That would please her mother and father, she thought. They were so
desperately anxious for her to be happy again—and their anxiety both
irritated and oppressed their only daughter.

"I’ve lost my heart—to San Francisco!" Elaine scrawled largely across
the back of another card. That card she addressed to Edward L. Towers,
Jr. And let’s hope that this time, she told herself, dear Edward L.,
Junior takes the hint. Unless of course, he was really determined to
make a lifetime career out of being the man she was least likely to
marry. Stifling a giggle, the girl reached for another card.

She addressed the last of her cards, idly speculating on how long it
would be before she saw any of those people again. She suspected that
it might be quite a while but the thought did not bother her.

She had arrived in San Francisco the week before and had done little
except bask in the sunshine and the easy-paced atmosphere. She was
booked in at a small hotel that overlooked Union Square and had
drooping fuchsias growing out of its window boxes. Sometimes Elaine
wondered when she would have to wake up again.

A fluttering of wings made her look up. Two tourists, a man and a girl,
were feeding a flock of pigeons. She turned her head. To her right sat
a group of teenage girls, laughing, whispering and eating ice cream.
She looked around to her left; a middle-aged couple were sipping
experimentally at cups of espresso. Elaine couldn’t help noticing that
both of them were very good looking.

The realization suddenly came that she was the only person sitting
alone; that didn’t bother her a bit! A pretty girl on her own attracts
attention’ and Elaine Craig both expected and enjoyed it.

She leaned back in her chair, letting the warmth of the spring sun
suffuse her body closing her eyes against the glare. Behind the thickly
lashed lids, Elaine’s eyes were clear blue, set deep in a distinctively
boned face. Her heavy blonde hair, streaked by nature and the swimming
pool, swung down straight almost to her shoulders. Although she was not
conventionally pretty, she possessed an off-beat, sensual kind of
beauty that captivated men and mystified other women.

Voices, right beside her, jerked Elaine out of her reverie. She opened
her eyes and looked around but for a moment she could see nothing in
the dazzling light. Then she realized that the voices were not
addressing her, but belonged to a group of sight-seers settling down
noisily at the next table. If the group had been aware of Elaine, they
would have noticed that her smile, as she turned away, was one of
relief.

Leaning forward in her chair, the young blonde reached for the tall
glass on the table in front of her. Her gaze wandered to the far end of
the patio.

It was then that she saw him, coming through the colonnades.

Elaine froze! Her outstretched hand turned into a furiously clenched
fist. It’s Warren! was her sole, panic-filled thought. The shock of his
sudden appearance held the startled girl rigid in her chair.
Immobilized, she sat and watched the approaching figure of her ax-
husband, dully aware of the pounding in her head and throat.

It was soon over! "Warren" came to within a few feet of where Elaine
sat—and kept right on walking. And he had not been Warren, after all.
The man was just another camera-slung tourist crossing the patio at a
leisurely pace.

But the stranger was tall and loose-limbed, as Warren had been. He had
crew-cut hair and he looked to be about the same age—twenty-eight —
that Warren would be. He even had the same jawline and the stand-out
ears. But he wasn’t Warren. He wasn’t her husband—her ex-husband,
Elaine reminded herself. She must remember that. The man she had once
been married to was thousands of miles from San Francisco.

Elaine’s hands were damp. She was exhausted, almost shaking, the
turmoil inside her a mixture of rage and fear. She wanted a cigarette
badly, but she was not able to open her handbag and take one out of the
pack. The tense rigidity of the moment had gone; the immobility
remained.

How long had it been since the last time she had suffered the illusion
of seeing him? A week at least—perhaps longer.

Warren’s "appearance" had been one of the most distressing symptoms to
follow the divorce. Wherever she went, Elaine kept seeing her ax-
husband. The "divorce syndrome," she had called it in a painful attempt
to laugh it off.

She felt the color returning to her face. Her flushed cheeks and over-
brilliant eyes were the only outward signs of the reaction setting in.
The same reaction that always followed, as night follows day. Every
time Elaine "saw" him, she drowned in angry humiliation all over again.

She remembered that afternoon, not so very many months ago, when she
had picked up the telephone in her brand-new home in Connecticut.
Looking back, Elaine could recognize that time as having been her last
moment of innocence.

She also remembered her surprise at finding it was the police who were
telephoning her.

"Mrs. Craig? This is Sergeant Reiley. We have your husband here at the
station. We’d like to talk to you …"

The memory blur had started there-the blur created in self-defense
against too many unpalatable facts, too many truths stripped of their
covering, too much reality rushing in until it seemed she would choke
…

Chapter 4

The police had been very considerate toward her. They tried to break
the news gently. A policewoman sat beside Elaine in the office, smiling
encouragingly from time to time. None of it helped! Outside, the New
England countryside blazed with bright autumn color. She remembered
thinking about that even as she heard her life explode.

After the routine questions, Elaine was told that her husband had been
apprehended while engaged in committing an indecent act. The words
jumbled together for Elaine as fact and emotion grated within the blur.
But, through it all, came clarity. Elaine was given all the facts.
Warren Craig, her husband, had stood on a quiet suburban street near
the local school and exposed his penis to a group of little girls. He
had tried to entice them closer to him, but after whispering among
themselves, the children had run off. Warren had followed them a short
way, his trousers still open and his penis out.

He had remained in the area for almost an hour, eventually working his
way to the school’s then-deserted playground. By that time one of the
children had run home, told her mother what had happened, and the
tearful mother had called the police.

When the patrol car arrived at the playground, Warren was sitting on
one of the swings. Two ten-year-old girls watched him, giggling, while
he pulled his penis out of his open fly and then stuffed it back inside
his pants again. The girls had come to the station as witnesses when
the police brought him in.

For Elaine, ordeal followed upon ordeal. Talking to the psychiatrist
had been worse than being told what had happened by the police. "If
there’s anything you can tell me, anything at all, Mrs. Craig, that
might help …"

What was she supposed to tell him? That she’d always suspected her
husband … that she’d known he had a desire to expose himself to
little girls?

"Were your sexual relations with your husband quite normal, Mrs.
Craig?" The doctor’s voice was firm and decisive. There was no escape
for Elaine then, no way out into tears of rage or self-pity. "It’s
important that you cooperate with us as fully as possible."

The tone had become gentler, but the questions continued.

"Now tell me … did your husband ever ask you to engage in any sexual
perverted acts?"

God in heaven, Elaine thought, when they phrase things so clinically,
they somehow manage to make everything sound dirty.

"What kind of thing?" Elaine asked. "If you ask me questions, I suppose
I can try to answer them." She could not hide the petulance in her
voice, nor did she even try to do so. She felt tired and ill-used. She
was the real victim of the situation, she thought, yet no one seemed
concerned about what she might be suffering.

"Fine," the psychiatrist said encouragingly. "Well, now, would you
describe your husband as impotent?"

It was the first time Elaine had openly admitted the truth, even to
herself. She nodded.

"Was he always impotent?"

"Nearly always, she said in a low voice. "We slept … I mean, we had
sexual relations only a few times during the whole of our marriage."

"How long have you and your husband been married?"

"Just over a year."

"Is it possible for you to tell me what you thought was your husband’s
difficulty? In other words, on the occasions when you did engage in
sexual activity, can you pinpoint the factor that made it possible for
your husband to do so?"

Elaine felt herself growing almost hysterical under the questioning.
She wanted to giggle and say, "That’s a fancy way of asking me how
Warren managed to get an erection," but she suppressed the desire.
Already stripped of her dignity, she struggled determinedly to retain a
few shreds of composure.

Elaine knew what she must tell the psychiatrist, but some innate
reticence held her back momentarily. Reticence … and pride. From the
beginning, she’d had to battle for her marriage to Warren. It had begun
with her parents’ opposition. Elaine had won, as she had known all
along that she would, but from the first she had found herself forced
into a stubbornly defensive position where her husband, was concerned.
After the wedding, she had hidden her disillusionment out of false,
nineteen-year-old pride. And, having successfully hidden her
humiliation for so long, she could hardly bear having it uncovered and
pried apart then.

"Where did you and your husband meet?" prompted the psychiatrist,
noticing Elaine’s withdrawal and trying to ease her out of it.

"At a friend’s house in Vermont. I’d gone for a skiing weekend and
Warren was there, too. We fell in love right away. It sounds strange to
say it but, at the time, we seemed so right for each other."

"How long was it before you married?"

"A year. I was only eighteen when I first met him. My parents were
upset about the whole thing. I’m their only child and … they didn’t
want me to leave college—all the usual stuff. But I got my way in the
end, and we were married. My mother and dad gave us a house as a
wedding present."

There was a pause. At that moment, the telephone shrilled on the desk
and the psychiatrist murmured, "Excuse me," as he reached to answer it.
Elaine sat and wondered how she could find the right words to explain
her marriage. It would be best to start at the beginning, she supposed.
With the wedding night … Well, first she’d have to tell the
psychiatrist about Warren’s fetish for physical fitness, about his
muscle-making routines, his frequent workouts at the gym. He had
believed in body-building exercises … morning and night.

That was how she had come to spend part of her wedding night standing
naked, lifting bar bells in front of an open window. Warren wanted her
to exercise with him. Afterwards, aching and exhausted, Elaine had
stretched out on the huge bed in the hotel’s luxurious honeymoon suite.
He had moved quickly to the bed where he had lain on top of her,
without preliminary love-making of any kind. He just lay there, kissing
her face lightly with closed lips and balancing his body on hers as if
he were performing yet another muscle-control exercise.

Finally, he had rolled over onto the sheet saying, "You must be tired,
honey. I won’t bother you tonight." After that, he’d fallen asleep
almost immediately. Tired though she was, Elaine could not ignore her
growing uneasiness. She had lain awake for hours, staring into the
dark. It had been the first of many such vigils.

During their courtship, Elaine had admired Warren’s old-fashioned
approach to sex. She was not a virgin, but after the crude behavior of
some of the college men she had known, his apparent chivalry had
appealed to her. But in the still darkness of her wedding night, she
wondered if possibly she had not idealized the situation. Instinct told
her that something was wrong. Her own limited sexual experiences
confirmed the thought. So did the days that followed.

During their honeymoon, she found out that there was only one method by
which he was able to achieve an erection. And, as with all impotent
men, the method involved a lengthy routine. The routine was more like
an obscure tribal ritual, with Elaine, naked, carrying out a series of
complicated and exhausting physical exercises, while her husband barked
out staccato commands, urging her on to greater and greater effort
until she all but collapsed.

She felt herself grow hot with resentment as she remembered the scenes
that had taken place between herself and her husband. The oddly excited
look on his face as he stood watching her frantic movements while she
tried to follow the ever-increasing tempo of his commands, came vividly
to her mind; so did the shame she had felt at her own unwitting
response to the sight of her husband ‘s stiffening organ.

With a distressed moan, the ashamed young wife buried her face in her
hands. By the time the psychiatrist completed his phone call, she was
sobbing. It was a little while before she was calm enough to speak
clearly. Once the interview was over, Elaine felt drained of all
energy. But she had enough strength left to accept the fact that her
marriage was finished. The sham was over! There was nothing left to
pretend about anymore.

For more than a year, she had stubbornly tried to keep up a facade of
being happily married. She’d behaved instinctively, protecting both
herself and her husband. It had taken the psychiatrist less than an
hour to destroy that facade in a way that made it impossible to piece
together again.

Strangely, it had been Warren, himself, who had finally confirmed the
destruction. Once, in the beginning he had begged her never to leave
him, had asked her with tears in his eyes to bear with him and remain
his wife. But after the arrest a different Warren faced Elaine, a grim-
faced and monosyllabic man who only spoke to tell her, in halting
phrases’ that everything was her fault, that if it had not been for
her, he would not be in such a predicament. Fortunately, he was led
back to his cell before she started to scream.

For a time, Elaine had returned to her parents’ home in Baltimore. She
decided … and her parents agreed … that divorce was the only
possible solution. The young blonde had been twenty when her husband
had been arrested; her twenty-first birthday took place a week after
her divorce became final.

But the divorce was not enough. It provided no escape from those who
knew what had happened and whose knowledge was a constant humiliation.
She felt continually sullied by the publicity Warren’s case had
received. He had received a light sentence; and what had happened
between the two of them was a secret she could have borne … forever,
if need be. His public disgrace was another matter.

It was her father who had suggested a trip. His suggestion came on a
day when Elaine had imagined, during a downtown shopping trip, that she
had seen Warren twice. She had seized upon her father’s words
gratefully.

"It would be nice if one of your girlfriends could go with you,"
Elaine’s mother added. "Liz, perhaps, or Marcia?"

Over my dead body, Elaine thought silently. Aloud, she said, "It’s a
wonderful idea, I’d love it. But I’d prefer to go alone. I need to be
alone for a while." She knew that her parents would never be able to
refuse her appeal.

Two days later, the troubled young girl boarded the jet for San
Francisco …

Chapter 5

Through eyes blurred with sudden tears, Elaine looked around the plaza.
Well, she’d taken the trip! She was in Union Square, in San Francisco.
And, damn it, she was enjoying it.

She fumbled clumsily for a much-needed cigarette, and she dropped her
handbag. The contents spilled out over the ground. Elaine knelt hastily
to collect them … a change purse, her lighter, two lipsticks, her
compact, a comb …

"Is this yours?"

The voice came from above Elaine’s head. She looked up, squinting
against the sunlight. A young man stood beside her, holding a silver
dollar in his out stretched hand. He was tall and he wore dark glasses.
He spoke with a marked accent.

"Why, yes. Thank you." Elaine straightened up and took the coin. It was
the one she always carried, her lucky dollar. Flustered, she began
putting her belongings back into her bag. As she dropped her compact
into place, she felt a tear roll down her cheek. Another followed it.
She was angry at having made a fool of herself.

The voice spoke again, warm with sympathy.

"Please. You are crying. You must sit down. Let me order you a coffee."

It was a relief to do as she was told. Elaine sat down. The young man
sat down opposite her. He snapped his fingers at a waiter and within
seconds a large black coffee appeared on the table. She drank it
gratefully.

"Please, I wish to present myself. My name is Nino."

Elaine looked at him. She recognized him as one of the boys who had
been sitting a few tables away from her. She glanced around. The other
young man had disappeared.

"I’m Elaine," she said. "Elaine Craig."

"I’m glad to meet you," the handsome youth said. He removed his
sunglasses. Dark, serious eyes looked into her face. "I hope you feel
better now?"

"Yes, thank you, much better. It was kind of you to help me. I don’t
know what …

Her voice trailed away on the lie as she neglected to complete the
sentence. She had no intention of explaining what had happened to her.

Nino smiled his understanding. Elaine considered his face thoughtfully.
She found it interesting. It was not merely that he was handsome; he
had exceptionally fine bone structure. She imagined him to be a highly
sensitive person. She wondered if he came from one of those very old,
aristocratic families one heard about.

"Is this your first visit to San Francisco?" Nino asked.

"Yes."

"Are you staying long?"

Elaine paused for a moment. The boy’s eyes watched her carefully as he
waited for her reply. Finally, she said: "Why, yes. I hope so."

Nino did not answer. He simply sat in the sun and smiled …

Chapter 6

Carlo was due to pick up his tour group at two-thirty. After a glance
at the watch lying on the bureau, he reflected, for the umpteenth time,
that the season had all the earmarks of a real money-maker. The flow of
tourists was already promising.

His group for the day was booked in at a second-class hotel in North
Beach, only a short walk from the apartment where he lived with his
family. While his mother and younger brothers took their customary
after-lunch nap, Carlo showered and changed.

The afternoon was cooler than yesterday. Carlo wondered whether or not
it would be worth wearing his silk suit. The suit was expensively
tailored, and he knew it looked well on his tall, athletic frame. Did
guiding a school-group for the afternoon rate the silk suit?

Carlo shrugged. He might as well wear it. You never knew.

He checked his appearance in the bedroom mirror. Although it was still
spring, he already had acquired a light tan. He thought with
satisfaction that it made him look vigorous. Good. He combed his dark-
brown hair and then tucked the comb into the breast pocket of his suit.
Last came the cologne. He poured a little of it into the palm of one
hand and massaged the back of his neck, taking care not to soil his
fresh white shirt. As always, Carlo’s attention to detail was
meticulous.

He took a final look in the mirror. His narrow eyes— amber colored
and long, like the eyes of a cat—studied every detail of his
reflection. Apparently reassured, Carlo moved away from the glass and
sat down on the iron-frame bed.

He picked up a bunch of papers and flipped through them. It took him
only minutes to check the schedule for the afternoon. One of the
travel-office clerks had written out the pertinent information in an
untidy scrawl. Rendezvous: two-thirty p.m. at the hotel. Number of
persons in group: twenty. Eighteen girls—ages fourteen to seventeen–
-and two adult teachers. The teachers were a Mr. and Mrs. Horace Clark

Carlo hummed to himself, softly. The setup suggested inviting
possibilities.

The tour’s schedule read: "Take group by bus from hotel to Fisherman’s
Wharf. Visit Maritime Museum. Take four p.m. Harbor Cruise. Upon
return, tour Fisherman’s Wharf. Group to be back at hotel in time for
dinner (this means seven p.m.).

A routine deal, Carlo had lost count of the number of times he’d done
it before.

Quietly, he let himself out of the family apartment. On his way to the
hotel, he considered the afternoon’s prospects. He was confident he
could handle the teachers and, out of the eighteen teenage girls, he
estimated he could pick out at least half a dozen nymphets. In fact, if
these girls were anything like the last group he’d handled, he would be
more likely to have trouble dumping those he didn’t want.

No, there wouldn’t be any trouble with the girls. Which meant he had to
decide how he could best make use of them. The Count? The Count de
Andros would be interested, of course, but perhaps he wasn’t the right
man to approach in the first instance. It might be better to make the
first approach to Marceau. Marceau Verner III: Middle-aged, rich,
former international playboy, now confined to his sumptuous mansion
with gout and—it was hinted—something rather worse by way of
sickness. Marceau liked young girls. Mostly, he liked them two or three
at a time, playing special games he had invented for his own diversion.

Carlo smiled to himself. He would give Marceau a call that evening …

Chapter 7

The walled garden behind the small cafe was cool in the early
afternoon. Vines covered the walls and the overhead trellis; a light
breeze blew through the leaves. Fog silently slipped through the Golden
Gate.

Elaine Craig shivered slightly, and Nino immediately put his arm around
her. His fingers traced a pattern on her bare forearm; and somehow the
young blonde divorcee felt comforted by his touch.

"You are cold?" Nino asked, his expression full of concern. It was one
of the things that she had found so appealing about him during the past
few days: he took their friendship so seriously. It seemed a long time
since a man had been concerned about her thoughts and feelings. Too
long, in fact. She was accustomed to being spoiled.

Everything about Elaine seemed important to Nino and the girl
luxuriated in his interest, telling him all about her Baltimore
childhood and endlessly detailing her likes, dislikes’ and opinions on
practically every subject under the sun. The Italian boy had been
sympathetic when she told him she was divorced-and that she didn’t wish
to discuss the matter, ever. He had understood. He seemed to understand
so many things about her. She smiled up at him.

"You must have a cognac," Nino said. "It will warm you up."

His arm tightened around her and she felt his fingers into her flesh;
his animal warmth seeped through her light cotton dress.

What is the matter with me? she wondered. What is there about this man
that arouses me?

As Elaine speculated, the darkly handsome youth slipped his arm further
around her, letting his fingers brush lightly across her breast. Then,
for a brief second, he held its firm fullness cupped in his hand.
Immediately, she pushed his hand away. But it was impossible to conceal
her involuntary reaction. At his touch, her nipple grew hard; its
outline could be clearly seen pressing against the thin material of her
dress.

She flushed, seeing Nino’s hot downward gaze. The boy’s tongue
moistened his lips, and Elaine imagined she could feel his soft warm
mouth close around her breast and sense the pull as he sucked on it.
She shuddered! When she looked into his eyes, she realized that he had
been thinking of exactly the same thing.

"I’ll have that cognac," she flustered, trying to cover her sudden
confusion. Her voice came out more huskily than usual.

Nino signaled the waiter for two cognacs. As they waited for their
drinks in an uneasy silence Elaine remembered that she had not given
him any money. She glanced around the garden. There were only three
other people there—a very young couple and a man, the latter drinking
steadily—but she did not like giving the bill to Nino in front of
them. Or in front of the waiter.

It had been difficult to persuade Nino to put their friendship on a
reasonable basis.

"No!" he had exclaimed on their second date when Elaine had offered to
pay for herself. "You make me feel ashamed."

Elaine had been patient in her argument. She had also been determined
to win and finally she had gotten her own way, as usual.

"I appreciate your sentiment, Nino," she’d said. "But this is
different. Us, I mean."

Without saying it outright, Elaine managed to convey that she
understood Nino’s financial difficulties. He had told her he worked as
a tourist guide and his salary was abysmally low. After her first date
with the young Italian, the young divorcee had decided that she wanted
to get to know him better. Besides, she would have her very own tourist
guide. And she was quite certain in her or mind that she did not want
to spend her time in cheap bars, which would be the only places he
could afford.

While Elaine had been arguing her point, the boy had sat staring
moodily into his empty coffee cup. She had not been sure whether he had
understood her reasoning, but she was perfectly sure that he shared her
desire for them to be together as much and as often as possible.

"Your husband—he gives you money?"

The blunt question had come unexpectedly, and she had recoiled in
surprise. She had not expected him to ignore her expressed desire to
avoid talking about her husband (her ex-husband, she reminded herself).
But, on second thought, she supposed Nino’s sudden callousness stemmed
from his embarrassment about the money situation. She decided to be
brisk and businesslike.

"No. I receive no alimony. My father gives me an allowance." Elaine’s
voice was very cold and her tone successfully fended off any more
unwanted questions.

Suddenly, his hand had covered hers as it lay on the table.

"I’m sorry," he’d said softly. "My poor, beautiful Elaine …"

So he had understood after all! That night, Elaine paid exactly half
the cost of the dinner and drinks.

On their next date, the young blonde had slipped several bills into the
youth’s hand and told him to pay for everything out of it. When he
tried to return the bills, she’d pushed him away. Nino had stood firm;
their argument developed into a physical struggle.

Fighting apparently aroused him. In the middle of their hassle, he had
grabbed her and kissed her so roughly that her lips had been bruised.
They had been standing in shadow, oblivious of passers-by in the
street, a few feet from Elaine’s hotel, and the girl could not help
wondering what might have happened if they hadn’t been in such a public
place. She hadn’t realized before how strong he was, nor how quickly
and easily inflamed.

Later that same night, she had lain in bed in her high-ceilinged room,
restless and unable to sleep. She could still feel the boy’s virile
young body thrust itself demandingly against her. Her own desire
swelled as she remembered it, and her hands moved of their own volition
to trace the memory across the curve of her stomach and down. She
rolled over onto her side, her body shuddering spasmodically. It was a
long time before she drifted into uneasy sleep.

The subject of money had not been openly discussed again. Now as they
sat in the little garden behind the cafe, Elaine opened her purse and
palmed a twenty dollar bill. Unobtrusively, she put her hand under the
table and touched his leg. When his hand came to hers, she passed him
the bill.

The waiter brought the two glasses of cognac which they had ordered.
Nino gave the twenty to the waiter.

"What shall we toast to," she asked, raising her glass.

Nino raised his glass, touching hers. "To … to tonight," he answered,
a wide smile spreading across his expressive features.

Elaine hesitated a moment. She knew what the Italian boy meant by the
phrase "tonight;" and it was obvious that soon, before tonight, she
would have to make a decision as to how far she could let their
friendship go … if the decision hadn’t already been made by her love-
starved body. Finally she answered, "To tonight." When she raised the
glass to her lips, the young blonde noticed her hand was trembling.

They were still drinking an hour later, both of them sitting pensively
in silence … occasionally moving to take a sip of their sixth cognac.
The garden seemed suddenly empty without the constant chatter. The
other couples in the cafe had gone; the lone man still sat drinking
steadily, quietly absorbed in some alcoholic world of his own.

Elaine snuggled closer to Nino. He smiled. The cognac was doing its
work … enveloping her body and mind in languid sensuality. He slipped
his hand to her ripely firm thigh, so wonderfully warm even through her
thin summer frock. She glanced down at his hand but made no move to
remove it.

His hand reached her knee, then slid underneath her cotton dress. She
felt his fingers probing her inner thigh.

"Tonight, we will go to my apartment."

Nino’s statement was blunt. Elaine felt she should refuse, but abruptly
she also knew she could not! She did not want to refuse.

His words became more coaxing. "We will eat dinner there. It will be
nicer at the apartment."

Elaine nodded, durably. Neither of them was thinking of dinner. She
looked at the youth’s fine Italian features as he bent his head toward
her. The steady look in his dark eyes sent a stab of excitement
shooting through her belly. Swiftly, he leaned close and flicked his
tongue between her lips. Then he straightened up and gave her his hand.
She staggered slightly as she rose.

When they went from the cafe up the hill toward California Street, they
walked slowly … their arms wrapped around each other’s waists.

Chapter 8

As Carlo walked toward the apartment he shared with Nino, he reflected
on the afternoon’s tour. As he had expected, it had proved fruitful. Of
the eighteen girls he had quickly picked out two: fourteen-year-old
Sharon, a slender blonde with a boy’s hips and small pointy breasts;
and sixteen-year-old Connie, a precocious redhead with the full figure
of a mature woman. The rest had been easy.

As the tour had progressed, it became clear that Sharon and Connie were
the leaders of a small clique of six or seven girls. They were very
interested in Carlo, almost suffocating him with their attention.
Dutifully he had droned on with information, pretending not to notice
the frenetic flirting. He had been pleased to see that the girls were
obviously piqued by his apparently disinterested attitude.

But his opening had not come until they were back at the hotel. As he
was leaving Mr. and Mrs. Clark’s room after planning the next days
tour, one of the hallway doors opened and a finger beckoned. Carlo
recognized the giggle coming through the half-opened door. It was
Connie.

Eight girls were sprawled around the room. They were in varying stages
of undress, supposedly getting ready for dinner. It seemed that Connie
had been elected spokeswoman for the group.

"Carlo," she said as soon as he entered the room, we want to ask you
something. Can you tell us where we can go to have some fun in this
dump? We’re sick and tired of this ten o’clock bedtime deal. Anyone
would think we were kids! Aren’t there any nightclubs or something?"

Carlo lounged against the door, looking slowly around the room. Then he
started talking. The situation was tailor-made for him.

Making the necessary arrangements with the girls had been easy. His
only problem had been holding them back until the next night. They’d
wanted to go right away. But now it was all laid on the line. The
following evening, the girls would pretend to go to bed as usual, after
dinner. Once they were sure Mr. and Mrs. Clark were out of the way,
they’d sneak out of the hotel. Carlo would be waiting for them outside.
He had promised them a party they would never forget …

The party though would take considerable planning and there were many
telephone calls to be made. He would make them from the apartment, even
though this was Nino’s night.

He quickened his pace, knowing he had to reach the apartment before
Nino. According to their agreement, Carlo had no right to it tonight,
should not even be near it! It was one of their strictest rules, one
he, himself, had absolutely insisted on. Now he was going to be the
first to break it.

But it’s important, he argued with himself! If I don’t make the calls
immediately, it will be too late. I must speak to Marceau tonight. And
the Count. And everyone else. The apartment is the only place I dare
use.

And anyway, he mused, Nino would probably be late. The way his friend
went about working an a girl, he might not get her to the apartment
until after midnight. Meanwhile, all that was necessary was a half hour
on the telephone. Nothing else!

As he walked, Carlo wondered whether he might not claim one of the
school girls for himself. They were attractive, sexy little things.
They knew how to arouse a man. At that age they did it instinctively
and were exciting in bed without being blase about it.

The pleasure of taking a young girl was something Carlo had not
experienced for many months. Not since the summer before, in fact.
There had been hundreds of other women in the interim, naturally,
almost all of them older than Carlo. There had also been several men,
but a job is a job.

The party he was about to organize should be very interesting. The
Italian youth was entirely absorbed in his plans by the time he
hurriedly opened the street door and strode swiftly through the hall,
taking the stairs three at a time. He was so anxious to get to the
telephone that he completely forgot to check on the prearranged signal-
–the open mailbox door which showed whether the apartment was already
occupied.

It was not until he reached the apartment landing that he remembered he
hadn’t checked the mailbox, but by that time he was already inside the
door. It was dark in the narrow hallway, but the worried youth didn’t
need the light. There were two doors leading off the corridor, one at
the far end and one on the left-hand side. Both were shut, and no light
filtered into the passage. Carlo breathed a sigh of relief. Nino and
his girl had not yet arrived.

In two strides, Carlo reached the door on the left, opening into the
kitchen. He went straight to the refrigerator and took out a bottle of
beer, snapped off the cap and poured out a glassful. He drained ‘he
beer in a couple of gulps, then refilled the glass. He felt hot and
thirsty.

The kitchen was large, simply furnished and had the bleak look common
to rooms that are seldom used. A wooden table and four chairs stood
under the window. Carlo could not remember a meal ever having been
eaten there.

Carrying his glass of beer in one hand, Carlo went back into the hall
and then through the second door. This led into a room twice the size
of the kitchen, it was furnished as a living room but also served as a
bedroom. A double bed was concealed in a piece of furniture that looked
like a sideboard and book-shelf unit. There were also three small easy
chairs, two large leather armchairs, a velour-covered divan, a bureau,
two leather hassocks, a couple of occasional tables and a massive,
highly polished wardrobe that dominated one entire wall.

Light came into the room through the long windows in the far wall. A
red velvet curtain hung in one corner; behind the curtain another door
led into a gold-tiled bathroom.

A magazine lay on one of the small tables; several ashtrays needed
emptying. The cushions on the divan were rumpled. The room was
definitely not tidy. Yet, cluttered as it was, it did not really look
as if it were lived in. It had the atmosphere of temporary usefulness.

Carlo glanced at his watch. Christ! It was seven-thirty. He would have
to hurry if he was to get out before Nino arrived. Pulling a key ring
out of his hip pocket, he selected the smallest key and fitted it into
the lock of the bureau. After taking a leather-covered notebook from
inside, he carefully relocked the bureau again.

He sat down beside the cane table on which the telephone stood.
"Verner, Verner," he muttered, as he thumbed hastily through his
notebook. "Ah." He started dialing a seven-digit number.

"Hello?"

Carlo recognized the voice of Nick, Marceau’s valet.

"This is Carlo," he announced himself. "Is Marceau there?"

The valet told him to wait, and it was a full five minutes before
Marceau came on the line. Carlo had counted every precious minute on
his watch. The conversation began with polite inquires about health,
followed by a rundown on the latest San Francisco gossip. The anxious
youth contained himself patiently. After several more minutes of social
chitchat, he felt the moment was appropriate to broach the subject of
the young girls.

"It’s a little difficult for me to arrange the party here," Marceau
objected at once, as Carlo had known he would.

Carlo ignored the objection.

"There is a young blonde," he murmured softly. "She is barely fourteen,
so slim and fair and so fragile …"

"But tomorrow night?" Marceau grumbled pettishly. "Couldn’t you have
given me more notice?"

"She is a virgin," Carlo went on. "There are others, too. One with hair
to her waist and the figure of a child …"

There was a pause. Marceau spoke again, in a slightly thickened tone.

"You realize it’s not convenient for me." He cleared his throat, "A
blonde did you say? Ah! I need time, you understand. I’ll call you
back. You seem to think I can arrange a party at a moments notice and
entirely at your convenience. I’m a busy man, you know, my
responsibilities."

Carlo held the receiver away from his ear; he had heard all these
complaints many times before. While Marceau grumbled unconvincingly,
the young Italian was already checking through his book for the phone
number of the Count. As soon as the aging playboy rang off, he dialed
the other number.

The conversation was short and satisfactory. The Count was enchanted to
hear from Carlo. A party thrown by Marceau Verner? For a group of young
girls? But how delightful! Very young girls? The Count would never
forgive himself for not taking the opportunity to pay his respects.

"You’ll come alone?" asked Carlo, holding the telephone in one hand
while lighting a fresh cigarette with the other.

"Yes. That is—no, no, no." The Count sounded confused. "I have a
house guest. From back east. That is all right?"

"Fine." All Carlo wanted to do was finish the call. He didn’t care
whether or not the Count brought his house guest to the party. "Male or
female?" he asked.

"Male."

"Fine."

The phone call finally came to an end. Carlo stubbed out his cigarette
and immediately lit another. He needed to think carefully for a moment
or two. Who else should be invited? Marceau always insisted that his
little "parties" should be at least outwardly respectable. Which meant
that some women had to be included on the guest list. And some young
men. Well, Benito would do for one. Then there’d be himself and … and
maybe Nino. Sure, Nino! It would serve him right. As for the women …
Maria Accari was an old friend of both Marceau and the Count, so she
should be invited. She’d probably bring her young friend Sue along.

Again, Carlo checked his watch. It was eight-fifteen. He considered for
a moment. If he remained in the apartment any longer, he would really
be pushing his luck. On the other hand the phone calls had to be made
at once. He grabbed the receiver off the hook. As he began dialing, he
said a silent prayer that Nino was taking things slow and easy.

Half a dozen calls later, the boy stubbed out another cigarette and
stood up with a sigh of relief, fully satisfied with the arrangements.
He glanced at his watch. It was eight-forty-five.

He pushed the notebook into his jacket pocket. He would not bother
unlocking the bureau again. The cigarette smoke didn’t matter—the
apartment usually smelled of stale smoke. It was unlikely that anyone
would notice the traces of his visit.

He was halfway across the living room when a sudden noise made him stop
in his tracks. There were footsteps on the landing outside the
apartment. He froze, waiting. A key was being turned in the lock of the
apartment door! There was a pause … then the sound of Nino’s voice
came from the far end of the hall.

Sonofabitch! This was bad. Carlo hesitated for only a fraction of a
second, but he felt as though he stood, poised, listening and waiting,
for an eternity. As his thoughts raced, two salient points were firm in
his mind. Nino would be furious if he discovered that Carlo had used
the apartment out of turn. Secondly, Carlo’s presence might well ruin
his friend’s whole setup. Nino had told Elaine the apartment was his
own bachelor pad; Carlo knew that for a fact. He also knew Elaine was a
rich girl. There was only one thing he could do to salvage the
situation. He had to hide.

As Nino and Elaine stepped into the hall, Carlo acted swiftly. Two
silent steps brought him to the outsized wardrobe. He turned the old-
fashioned brass handle and thanked God that the huge doors didn’t
squeak as they opened. He stepped into the darkness and quickly pulled
the doors closed behind him. In the musky black interior of the old
wardrobe, all he could hear at first was the thumping of his own heart.

"Oh, but it’s a cute place!"

Elaine’s exclamation carried quite clearly inside the wardrobe.
Instinctively, Carlo turned his head toward the sound of her voice. To
his surprise, he found that his hiding place gave him a good view of
the lighted room. There was a wide gap where the two wardrobe doors no
longer fitted together perfectly. It was wide enough to make him wonder
for a moment whether the boy and girl could see in as well as he could
see out. Common sense reassured him. He was safe enough, provided he
kept quiet.

"You like my apartment?" Nino asked.

"Mmmm, yes. It has great possibilities," Elaine said thoughtfully. "The
furnishings don’t look quite right, somehow, but if someone took an
interest in the decor …"

The young blonde was standing in the middle of the room, looking around
her. She was in Carlo’s direct line of new. When Nino appeared by her
side and put his arm around her waist, she did not resist him.

Carlo found he had enough room to sit down. He lowered himself
cautiously, making no sound. When he was comfortably settled, he peered
out again.

He appraised the girl as she stood across the room from him, totally
unaware of his scrutiny. Nino had switched on one of the lamps; in its
light, Elaine’s pale-blonde hair gleamed softly. It hung straight to
her shoulders, shaking like a silken curtain with every movement of her
head. Her skin looked almost translucent in the artificial light.

Nino pulled her closer to him.

"You are very beautiful," he said simply, gazing into her upturned face
with a look of utmost sincerity.

She’s ready for a fucking all right, thought Carlo, observing the flush
of excitement across the girl’s cheeks and the brilliant blue of her
eyes. He saw her wetly parted lips open.

"No, Nino," she whispered. Her hand pushed feebly at his chest. "No, no
…" Her whisper was almost inaudible.

In answer, Nino gripped her more tightly. He bent his head and kissed
her full upturned mouth. Carlo watched as the sensually beautiful girl
made one last attempt to pull away before she abandoned herself to
Nino’s embrace. She rose on tiptoe, and her ripely voluptuous body
arched backward as the Italian boy bore down on her. His hand groped
roughly for her straining upthrust breast; Carlo saw his fingers spread
greedily across it.

Suddenly, Elaine twisted violently away from him. She was breathing
hard and trembling; unsteadily, she moved back and sank onto the divan
behind her. She buried her face in her hands; there was a sound of
muffled sobs.

Nino’s eyes narrowed as he stood looking at her. Then he took a deep
breath and sat beside her on the couch. Gently, very gently, he took
her hands away from her face.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

"Please, Nino. I don’t want … I don’t know …" Elaine’s voice
trailed away. She seemed close to hysteria.

"I love you, Elaine," the boy softly murmured. He dropped a kiss into
the palm of her hand. "I love you because you are so beautiful and so
wonderful. You are the most wonderful girl I have ever met in my whole
life."

From his hiding place, Carlo saw the young divorcee’s body begin to
relax at the words. Her face became calmer.

"But … you hardly know me … How can you know? How can you tell if
you love me?"

He smiled, and put his arm around her again. After a moment, she lay
passively against him.

"I knew from the first time I saw you," he said.

Her blue eyes stared into his face.

"Me, too," she breathed, her lush young body quivering with a rapidly
growing desire. She closed her eyes and waited for him to kiss her
again.

As Nino bent over her, he could see the curve of her thick lashes
against her delicate skin. For the first time that evening, he was
touched by genuine emotion. Then his lips met hers and he forgot
everything except that his physical desire for this blonde girl
overwhelmed every other consideration.

His tongue swam into her mouth, and he felt her tongue, trembling,
fleeing before his onslaught. Then, imperceptibly at first, she began
to respond. The low moan was wrenched from the depths of her soul, and
her arms snaked around his shoulders pulling him in closer to her.
Their tongues fought a pitched battle for supremacy, then she
acknowledged defeat and permitted his tongue to move in and out of her
mouth as though it were some incredibly small, overly excited penis.

The darkly handsome youth began using his hands to stroke her back. At
first he concentrated on a point just above and inward from the
shoulder blades—where he knew the erogenous breastbands lay. Then he
moved down to a point on the back just above the soft fullness of her
smoothly rounded buttocks—massaging gently, kneading with his
fingertips.

She began trembling and moaning low in her throat as Nino’s hungrily
searching hands moved freely over her back. It was not until he cupped
her right breast in his palm that she tried to pull away and protest.
The objection lasted less than twenty seconds, and then she seemed to
move in even closer to him. During it all their tongues played—
chasing, darting, hiding, stroking each other. The youth’s left hand
moved gently up the back of her dress and found the zipper. He tugged
at it, and the soft whisper was lost in her moan. Using his left hand
only, he expertly unsnapped her brassiere. She stiffened when she felt
the sudden release of pressure against her breasts, and attempted to
shake her head. He, however, paid no heed to her unspoken protest.
Quickly, as though he were unwrapping a priceless artifact, he peeled
the thin cotton material from her left shoulder. The dress now hung
suspended by her left breast and her right shoulder. Then, and only
then, did his mouth leave hers.

"Nino … we can’t …" she began, but then closed her eyes in rapture
as his tongue began tracing a wild pattern of sensation down her neck
and across her shoulder. Lower, lower his mouth moved until he felt her
bra cup against his chin. He simply reached up and pulled it loose. Her
creamy breast, like a fully ripened melon, was there before his eyes.
In the middle of the areola, her erect nipple stood like a bulging
brown ivory tower. With a loud groan of hunger, his voracious mouth
fastened itself moistly on the succulent mound of flesh. His groan was
echoed by her moan, and tremulously, her hands came up and cupped his
head, holding it there in reverence and unconcealed pleasure.

"Nino … oh, Nino," she said, over and over again as his teeth nibbled
at the nipple, and his mouth and tongue played havoc with the passion-
inflamed nerve ends. After a moment, he reached up with his other hand
and slowly pulled down the right cup. His devouring mouth moved over to
that side, leaving the left tit shining with his saliva. Now Elaine’s
dress was held up only by her right shoulder, and she made only a token
protest when he slipped the dress all the way down to her waist. Both
shoulders were bare and her magnificent naked breasts were revealed to
Ins eyes.

Abruptly, his mouth left her nipples and worked its way upward once
more. They kissed savagely, and her own hunger was so great that her
teeth actually bit into his lips.

Then, suddenly, Elaine felt his hands move away from her body. "What?
What …" she began, stifling a plea to come back. She opened her eyes
and saw Nino standing in front of her. Her gaze locked on the huge
bulge in his pants where his massively aroused penis raged against its
confinement.

"Stand up," he said.

"What?" She didn’t understand.

"Stand up, baby. I’m going to undress you."

Her breath caught at this unexpected command, then—actually blushing
because she was going to have to be a willing participant and net a
passive one—she started up from the couch. When she stood fully
erect, her dress—already off both shoulders, fell in a heap on the
floor. Her naked breasts were there, shining in tie half-light; and her
black panties were rolled halfway down over her smooth alabaster hips.

Nino gazed at her. She had an absolutely incredible body! Nothing he
had ever seen b fore could top this—maybe one or two of the Forth
Beach dancers he had fucked could come close to matching the body, but
never before this combination of body and face. His voice surprised
him; it sounded alien, hoarse, all choked up with desire, when he said,
"My God, you’re beautiful!" He took a step forward, kneeled in front of
her and, with one quick sure motion, peeled her little black bikini
panties down to her ankles. He gently lifted her right leg, then her
left, disengaging her feet from the panties, before tossing the nylon
undergarment on the couch.

His eyes focused on the nylon hosiery held up by the garterbelt and he
decided to leave the stockings and belt on her; the nylons would feel
tremendously sensual against his own bare buttocks when she wrapped
those long satiny legs around him. Still kneeling before her, he looked
up … up … up, past the tops of the nylon hosiery, and saw and
smelled the enticing female aroma coming from the softly pouting lips
of her cunt … all pink and shining from her oozing vaginal lubricant.
He thought about eating her pussy while she was standing, but some
instinct told him to wait until he got her lying flat on the couch.
Even though he had made the decision, he still found himself raining
kisses on her nylon-encased legs and thighs, working his way from calf
to thigh.

Elaine stood there, legs apart, feeling spasmodic jolts of ecstasy
surge throughout her entire love-hungry young body with each kiss he
planted on her nylons. She could feel the heat of his lips through the
material of the hosiery could feel the cool rush of air playing over
her bare buttocks and breasts. For some reason or other, she felt
deliciously lewd, just standing here wearing only garter belt and
stockings. But then she forgot everything when his hot lips came into
contact with the nude flesh above the top of her nylons. He rained
kisses on both thighs and used his tongue to lick the sleek inner part
of her thighs from just above the point where the stockings ended to
… to … She stiffened as his lips suddenly leapt from thigh to
navel. A wild, never before experienced excitement began to burn in
her. His kisses were traveling over abdomen to hips and he was gently
tugging at her figure to turn her around … obediently she turned, and
now his lips were moving over the lower part of her back … and then
to her slightly trembling buttocks.

His lips and kisses on her bare flesh had started things happening in
her body. She could actually feel her vagina contracting and releasing,
push and pull, in a violent rhythm of love … as if his penis were
actually in there moving in and out. Her full ripe breasts had begun to
ache, and her body was beginning to tremble uncontrollably.

Elaine had never felt so weak. So helpless before in her life. She
stood there, waiting for whatever was to happen next, as Nino’s hungry
lips left her buttocks and he stood upright. The young Italian put his
hands on her shoulders and slowly turned her to face him again. Their
mouths came together hungrily, and his tongue tucked in and out of her
mouth rapaciously. Then, still French-kissing, he eased her down onto
the couch. She sat, then lay back, face up, as Nino put her legs in the
position he wanted them, with one leg on the floor and the other bent
at the knee and pressed against the back of the couch.

The young blonde divorcee lay there, mesmerized, as the darkly handsome
youth quickly pulled off his shoes and socks, stripped off tie and
shirt, and then dropped his pants and undershorts at exactly the same
moment. She saw him standing there above her, just as naked as she, his
face gazing down at her with unconcealed lust. Her eyes traveled down
from handsome face to broad muscular shoulders, and flat belly, and …
and …

The thick rigid penis stood out proudly, like a king’s scepter, from
his curly patch of black hair. Even as she watched it, it jerked as
though it were trying to reach out for her. Its huge, lust-bloated head
seemed to throb with an unbelievable life of its own.

"Do you like it, baby?" Nino asked softly, watching as her body twisted
seductively on the black velour couch … as though she were trying to
grind the material into her buttocks. "Christ," he thought, "the way
she’s looking at my cock almost makes me think she wants to suck it
off."

"Yes … oh, yes," she moaned. "I like it. It’s … beautiful."

Nino knew he was going to worm his tongue up into that delectable young
pussy before he shoved his cock into it, and he deliberated the
possibilities of a sixty-nine. But again, his sure, infallible
instincts told him that such a thing might be a little premature;
later, definitely! But she’d have to be brought along. He just couldn’t
understand it. What kind of a man had she been worried to? He’d
probably never gone down on her … and, if I’m right, never had her
sucking on his cock, even though she looks starved for it.

Elaine was beginning to feel the fires of impatience when she saw the
boy lower himself onto the couch beside her. His bare hip touched her
naked rib cage and she jumped as if seared by a hot brand. His head
dipped once again to her fevered breasts. She groaned as he took first
one nipple, then the other, into his voracious mouth. He licked and bit
and sucked until Elaine wanted to scream out in ecstatic delight. Waves
of pure sensation rippled throughout her entire body, and she could
feel it from the tips of her jutting nipples to the tips of her toes.

Now Nino’s head dipped lower, as he used his tongue to sketch a
portrait of lust between her rapidly heaving breast and navel. He
kissed and sucked and gently bit at the hotly sensitive areas where the
hipbone serves as an anchor for supple flesh that flares out to become
globes of the buttocks, and his warm wet kisses rained over the sides
of her naked young buttocks.

Then abruptly, she was aware that his tongue and mouth were coming back
again to the front, and that he had moved down until he was kneeling
between her outspread thighs. His tongue flicked once at her navel,
then drew a straight uninterrupted line to her sparse, softly curling
pubic hair. He breathed hotly into the softness of the golden pelt; it
was at that moment Elaine first realized what Nino was going to do next
and knew the throbbing target of his fevered lips and tongue.

"No," she said, and attempted to sit upright. "No … that’s wrong." It
was terribly wrong what he was about to do … perverted, dirty!

Nino heard her words; they sounded sincere, and that caused him to grin
inwardly because he knew now, positively, that her husband had never
done this to her … for if he had gone down on her, she wouldn’t be
protesting; she would know how wonderful it was! He remained where he
was, kneeling between her widespread legs, his fingers digging into the
soft warm flesh of her inner thighs. His eyes paid homage to the
wonderful little mouth of sex, all pink and oozing love from the pair
of cuntal lips pulsating gently on either side of it. It was the
shrine, he the pilgrim who had traveled a long distance to pay homage.

"No … Nino … please … please …" she moaned. "You can’t …"

"I can, baby. Just lie there. I want to do this for you. This is one of
the most exquisite things a woman can feel. Lie there, let me do the
work for a minute. I’m going to kiss and lick your pussy. Oh, if you
only knew how beautiful your little cunt is, how I’ve wanted to do this
for you. I’m going to lick and suck at your clitoris; you’ll scream
with joy. I’m going to bury my tongue deep into your pussy … and I’m
going to suck and lick until you cum."

The salacious words and what they implied, the visual imagery of what
was about to happen, caused the love-starved young blonde to begin
shaking with a wanton, uncontrollable desire. She was about to permit a
degenerate act to be done to her down there between her helplessly open
legs … not only permit it, but knowingly encourage it to be done
because her body was crying out for it. She knew that her pelvis had
felt as though it were about to rise eagerly toward his lips at any
minute. Shame, guilt, fear … all disappeared under the tidal wave of
shameless lust. Nothing mattered any more. She wanted him to do it. His
words had set fires in her loins, fires that rapidly roared out of
control and vaporized willpower and conscience. She had never felt so
completely at the mercy of a man before. She would consent to anything.
Anything! Just so long as he did what he said he was going to do … as
long as he gave her relief and joy and happiness.

"Oh, Nino …" she whispered, then lay back, feeling the velour
scratching against her bare shoulders and tickling the inner crevice of
her buttocks. There was a movement on the couch, then the Italian youth
said, "Lift your hips." Eyes closed, she followed orders and felt a
large pillow being shoved under her buttocks. Almost immediately, he
began showering her belly with wildly fervent kisses. His hot mouth
moved up again to her feverishly straining breasts then to her rib
cage; his tongue flicked and quivered all over her upper torso. The
naked young divorcee was about to go out of her mind with lust. Her
hips had begun grinding a lewdly sensuous circle around and around on
the pillow, and her head started lolling from side to side. Finally, in
a voice she hardly recognized as her own, she moaned, begging, "Do it
… do it to me … please …"

"Do what?" Nino asked, watching her lust contorted face, feeling his
cock about to explode from excitement. Christ, she was really turned on
now … she was about to fly right off the couch, and he hadn’t even
started the preliminaries.

"Lick me … like you said," Elaine whimpered and then sobbed in shame.

Grinning in triumph, the boy moved slowly and tantalizingly down her
abdomen again. He was deliberately tormenting her, turning her heat up
higher and higher. Her pelvis was making little up-and-down motions as
though it were blindly seeking something. Finally, not even he could
stand the sweet torment any longer, so he roughly spread her thighs
even further apart, used his thumbs to separate her soft, hair-fringed
‘vaginal lips, and then without warning savagely rammed his tongue deep
into her hotly quivering cunt.

"Ohhhhhhhhhh," Elaine screamed as the sleek hot tongue slashed into
her, harder and harder, and her body reacted with convulsive lurches.
Her hands cruelly grasped his hair, as if attempting to rip it out by
the roots, and seemingly tried to pull his tongue his nose, his entire
face deeper, ever deeper, into her cock-starved vaginal cavity. She
heard herself screaming incoherently, babbling. Above the sound of her
wanton voice urging him on, she kept thinking, "Oh, my God! How
beautiful, how exquisite! Why hasn’t this happened to me before? Why?
Why? Why? It feels so … so … wonder … fulllllll."

Nino continued his voracious sucking and tonguing of her moistly
quivering pussy, his hands slipping up over her belly to her taut moon-
shaped breasts once more, cupping and squeezing the bulging creamy
flesh continuously while his mouth and tongue slaved away over her
torridly rippling vagina.

The vacuum created by Nino’s voraciously sucking mouth made obscene
noises that seemed to fill the room, and Elaine reacted to the lewd
sound as if it were the music of love—as, indeed, it was. Now that
the boy’s wildly searching tongue had scoured the pussy sheath, it
began to seek the tiny, pulsating bud of her neglected clitoris.

Elaine shrieked with obscenely growing pleasure when he took the little
budded nerve ending between his teeth and held it captive as his tongue
made wicked, ecstatic little circles around and around it.

Elaine’s head had begun to flail in total abandonment from side to
side; her hips were thrashing up and down—around and around—as she
sought to bring other erotic nerve endings into play with his tongue.

Nino made an elongated oval of his mouth and began to suck with
tremendous pressure, all the while moving his tongue downward along the
fevered, incredibly smooth slit. He licked from clitoris to a point
close to the anus, feeling the soft curling pubic hair teasing against
his lips and cheeks, tasting the bittersweet honey of her feminine
secretions and the slightly saline perspiration that brought a
tantalizing sheen to her buttocks.

Elaine’s wails of delight had become continuous now; she no longer
attempted to make sense … no longer could make sense …
unintelligible moans, groans, mewls, and grunts came babbling out her
throat. During it all her mind was screaming, "Wonderful … oh, God!
So … beautiful … so bea … uuuuu … teeee … ful." And,
suddenly, somewhere in the far-off limits of her consciousness, she was
aware of a velvet electricity building up and moving, quietly and
unobtrusively, warm and vibrant. She arched her body up, seeking to
intensify that electrical feeling.

From his place of concealment, in the closet, Carlo could see Elaine’s
face flushing red from the intensity of her effort, her eyes wide in
unseeing rapture in her quest for fulfillment; although he prided
himself in his monumental self-control, he had an erection that would
have done justice to a stallion.

As Elaine ground her pussy greedily up against his face, Nino heard the
sound of her breathing increase in tempo. He realized then that she was
coming close to orgasm now, and a part of his mind exalted with the
knowledge. By God, he thought, she’s going to get the surprise of her
life when she cums. The knowledge that he was licking her where no one
had ever licked before brought new strength to his tongue. He began to
orally fuck her, harder and faster, deeper and harder, faster …
faster … faster, shoving his hard hot tongue into her quivering,
lust-dilated slit. He was rewarded by a shrill scream of pleasure when
he swirled and flicked his tongue around the overly sensitive,
pulsating inner lips of her vagina. She was coming closer, ever closer,
and so he slipped his hands beneath her wantonly undulating buttocks—
cupping them in his hands as though they were some sacrificial
offering—and shoved his face even harder between her pulsating
thighs. He watched her face appear and disappear between her bouncing
breasts and sank his teeth—not brutally, but savagely enough to bring
pain—into her clitoris once more, causing her to scream again … an
unholy shriek of pure animal lust, her lips curling in wild contortion
back over the whiteness of her teeth.

Elaine’s wanton cries of passion filled the living room. She had long
since burrowed her nakedness down into the velour couch—and she could
feel the material’s nap invading her buttocks, could feel it under her
armpits, on the back of her sweat-slippery neck. If his wonderful
tongue hadn’t been shoved deep into her vagina she would have attempted
to push the velour in there.

Abruptly, Nino dipped down and began shifting his shoulders—first the
left, then the right. He had them under her widespread thighs now, and
began levering them up until they were draped over his shoulders. The
entire expanse of her inflamed, helpless loins was now bared in naked
abandonment to his long thrusting tongue and voraciously sucking mouth.
He thrust his tongue in deeper than it had been at any time, and
momentarily thought he could feel, with his tongue, the ending of her
warm vaginal cavity and the beginning of her hot lonely uterus aching
for a cock.

Elaine knew she was moaning like a helpless animal in heat, and she
didn’t care. Nothing mattered any longer except that tongue which was
carrying her to unsuspected heights of rapture. Deep in her mind, a
happy ecstatic little voice kept crying out, "Oh, Nino … thank you
… oh, God … wonderful … good … good.. ahhh … God!" She was
peaking, rapidly climbing to that seldom-reached pinnacle of sensation
which she knew would result in an orgasm. The climb had been wonderful
… and she knew she had long since passed the point of arousal where
she had stopped with just a mere orgasm before. She had never been at
his height before, and abruptly, Nino began doing something that drove
her ahead of him … higher … higher … higher into the forbidden
ratified atmosphere of the forbidden delight.

Her buttocks had been jerking spasmodically beneath his relentless
tongue, her pelvis had been whipping up and down with superhuman
strength against his face, and her groans had turned to moans which had
become shrieks of unexcelled rapture, when Nino slowly slipped his
tongue out of her desperately clenching vagina. He made one tentative
lick at her clitoris, which brought a scream of delight from her, then
began a devilishly slow downward licking toward the tiny puckered ring
of her obviously virginal anus. The shamelessly aroused young blonde
gasped at the first searing contact with that forbidden orifice. Her
breath was coming now in huge gulping swallows which rasped and
whistled through her lust-constricted throat. She took a deep breath
and almost swallowed her tongue when her errant mind finally realized
what the Italian boy was about to do. Now her conscience really
screamed at her; this was filthy, degenerate, vile and perverted. It
was sinful, the ultimate sin! And even as her conscience cried out in
dismay and protest, her hungry, traitorous loins had leapt up and
spread her thighs wider of their own volition so he could bring his
tongue into seething wet contact with the tiny, puckered little anal
mouth.

Nino wasted no time; he thrust his tongue into the tight little hole
and was rewarded with an uncontrollable quivering of her lushly naked
body as she raised her pelvis off the bed in an effort to give him
additional depth and working room. He licked and sucked and continually
rammed his tongue into the tiny little anus which gyrated in wanton
abandonment; there was no taste except a salinity and slight pungency
that reminded him of her pussy. Now, across his shoulders, her thighs
had begun to quiver spasmodically and her heels had begun beating a
tattoo of impending rapture on his spine and buttocks. She was close,
so goddamned close that he could stop right now and she’d still cum
without another thing being done to her. Let her cum! Let her cum first
by tongue, then by cock! His painfully throbbing penis soon had to have
relief or his balls would swell up in agony and probably explode. He
began to drive his long wet tongue harder and harder into her tightly
puckering anal passage, all the while exciting her clitoris with one
hand and squeezing her breasts with the other. Abruptly, as he heard
her breath catch in what he knew was the beginning of the onslaught of
a climax, he drew his tongue out of her anus, returned it to her saliva
and lubricant-drenched pussy, and used his mouth and tongue to orally
fuck her while his nose scraped and rubbed her clitoris.

That did it!

Elaine writhed and squirmed beneath the insanely licking tongue until
she no longer had control over anything. She took a deep breath as
nerves began shorting out in her abdomen and a glow began somewhere in
the area of her wildly quivering vagina. The glow did not remain a glow
for more than a second; it was merely the beginning of a fire and
earthquake which began wracking her love-starved loins and belly. The
earthquake moved rapidly up the scale and suddenly she knew there
wasn’t any doubt about it. She was Cumming! Cumming in his mouth.

She was cumming!

The scream was half-human, half-animal, and it ripped from her lust-
contorted throat as though she were falling in space, toppling end over
end toward the jagged rocks.

"I’m cumming … Nino … Nino … NINO! I AM … CUMMMM … ING!" She
locked her hands behind his head and used every bit of muscular power
to shove his wonderful, pleasure-giving tongue and face further and
deeper into her wildly pulsating genitals. Her love juices spurted onto
his face and then began to flow copiously from her wetly convulsing
cunt. Her viscous liquid inundated Nino’s face and tongue and, escaping
his voraciously sucking mouth, began flowing down from pussy to
tortured rectum, where it dripped against the pillow and gathered in a
sticky pool on the velour couch. She continued to wail in rapture as
the mercilessly pounding earthquake began to diminish; within seconds
it had gone, but now dimly within her lush young body she felt the
roaring tidal wave of sensation cresting and breaking over her. Her
delighted, almost incoherent scream told the story, "I’m cumming again
…"

Surprised, Nino felt her nakedly voluptuous body begin twitching
uncontrollably once more. The second orgasm had hit within thirty
seconds of the first, and he hadn’t done a thing except lick some of
her cum from her wet vaginal lips. "Christ," he said to himself, "she
really was turned on." And then his surprise deepened even further for
the wantonly writhing girl was obviously cumming a third time … all
three climaxes occurring within a minute.

Elaine’s impending climax was more than the hidden Carlo could bear,
and his own massively thick cock had sprung to an even greater tautness
as he watched his friend hungrily suck at the delectable blonde’s
pussy. His hand had slipped at his fly, released the straining member,
and slowly began stroking the bulbous shaft.

Somewhat in awe of what he had done, and a little apprehensive, Nino
pulled his flushed, glistening face away from Elaine’s loins and said,
"Save some for me, baby."

She heard his voice from far, far off. The earthquake, the tidal wave,
both were fading slowly. It had been so violently exquisite … so
beautiful … that she wanted to sleep—to doze off with the memory of
it still in her mind. Nothing could ever again be so exquisite, so
perfect. She felt her legs being lowered from his shoulders, and, with
a sigh of satiated exhaustion, she dropped her arms and let her head
fall loosely back. Now her hips were being lifted as the pillow was
removed. Now, the velour was caressing her buttocks once more. But even
as she felt all this, there was a velvet expectancy once again in the
far depths of her uterus and vaguely she perceived that she was cumming
again—only this tiny one was merely an aftershock, a little present
from her body, a song, a memory, a poem to his tongue … small, but
delightful.

The darkly handsome youth looked down at her sweet-streaked nakedness.
She was taking deep, shuddering breaths of exhaustion and satiation.
His apprehension returned again. She looked as if she had been fucking
all night and was too tired to go again. He hoped her energy hadn’t
been depleted completely; he’d like a little life in the pussy. He
lifted himself on his knees and moved up until he was over her body.
"Elaine … did you like that?"

She heard his voice and then, abruptly, she was inexplicably weeping.
The tears had completely inundated her eyes in less than three seconds,
and they were already flowing down her cheeks to splash on the velour
couch. God he had made her feel so vitally alive, so beautiful … and
she knew she had missed so much out of life because of Warren’s
inadequacy and ignorance.

Alarmed, Nino asked, "Elaine … is everything all right?"

Now she opened her eyes and gazed lovingly up at his face looming over
her. She made no effort to answer at first, merely reached up with both
hands and pulled his face down to her. She kissed him eagerly and in
appreciation. She tasted her own cum, her own vagina! After a moment,
she released him with the statement; "My darling … it was … was …
beautiful." And even as she said it, she realized how impotent that
word "beautiful" was when it came to expressing her true feelings.
"Nino … I never realized anything, could be so … so …" She
couldn’t finish.

The boy grinned in satisfaction. "It’s going to be even better because
I’m going to fuck you now. I’m going to put my cock where my tongue was
a moment ago. It aches and cries out for you, it wants to fuck you …
I want to shoot my load of hot, throbbing cum deep in your belly,
deeper than anyone has ever been before. What you just had was only the
beginning. You do want me to fuck you, don’t you?"

His lewd obscenities were an aphrodisiac to her. Sensation was rapidly
coming back to her vagina, and it was with complete and utter
bewilderment that Elaine realized her earlier hunger had returned
tenfold. She wanted more of him, and so she told him using his own
language, "Yes … fuck me … fuck me harder and deeper than I’ve ever
been fucked before."

"Put it in for me," Nino ordered, lowering his hips toward her
sensually waiting body.

Elaine paused a moment, then reached down between their bodies and
searched for his hardness. She found it immediately; it would have been
impossible not to find it, as large and as hard as it was. She thrilled
as her fingers wrapped around its hot throbbing vibrancy. She could
feel every muscle, every tendon, every beating vein in that gods-head.
She enclosed it tightly in her fist, then stroked it, moving the pliant
flesh up and down on the inflexible shaft. She was pleased when he
moaned with delight from the touch of her hand and fingers; she wanted
to delight him, to repay him some way.

There were a lot of things she supposed she could do, but she had no
knowledge of what he would consider dirty … or unacceptable. Besides,
the heat was building up rapidly in her loins. Her wetly throbbing
vagina wanted his long hard penis in there—wanted it in the worst
way. Even now she imagined she could feel it sliding down through her
waiting slipperiness. She stroked the heatedly pulsating shaft two or
three times as Nino’s hot lips, still tasting of the secret places of
her own body, came down on hers. Then she directed it toward her
hungrily awaiting vagina. The handsome young Italian lowered his body a
bit more, and his massively heated shaft scraped her pubic hair.

Elaine pushed down on it and felt an indescribable jolt of pleasure
shoot through her abdomen and inner thighs as the huge, searing head
touched the still sensitive, still-flooded lips of her wetly throbbing
pussy. She used the head of the penis to draw little circles of ecstasy
around and around her cuntal lips; she moved it up and down, feeling it
push deliciously, and hotly, against her once again erect clitoris. She
even pushed it down, downward until it came into contact with her brown
puckered anal ring. She didn’t leave it there for more than a split
second; there was something forbidden about that pleasure, and she
could not let her mind dwell on the possibilities. Now she moved it
rapidly up and down her moistened fur-lined slit, feeling almost as if
she were masturbating.

Nino was groaning with impatience. He felt her stroking his cock—
sometimes rapidly, almost frantically; other times slowly,
questioningly, as though she had never been asked to put a man’s penis
into her vagina before and didn’t know what to do. Once, he was almost
positive she hinted that he should push it in her rectum, but that
impression had been so brief that he assumed he was wrong. Anyway, he
thought, if the cock isn’t in your asshole shortly, baby, you can bet
that I’ll have at least two fingers pushed in there trigging the hell
out of you! She continued to stroke him and it was so pleasurable that
the young man decided to put an end to it before she used up some of
his strength. "Put it in, now," he demanded.

Elaine sighed, closed her eyes in rapture, and then centered the lust-
bloated, throbbing shaft at the opening to her vagina. Although she
wanted him to go deep and hard, perversely she heard her own voice
saying softly, "Do it to me slow … and gentle … make it last
forever …"

Because he wanted it to be perfect for her—this first time, at least-
–the boy curbed his own hot impatience and was gentle.

Elaine felt the head of his penis pressing in at her vaginal opening.
Reluctantly, her fingers left the thick trunk of the wonderfully warm
instrument. The pressure at her cuntal lips continued for a moment, and
gradually increased in strength until, with a slight sucking noise, his
massively heated cock-head moved inside her. "Ummmmmm," she crooned,
"that’s beautiful."

He felt the wonderful velvety warmness of her tight little pussy
enclose the head of his hotly throbbing cock. It was much tighter than
he had suspected, even though his tongue had just moments before
scoured out the region. Her husband must not have used this very often,
he thought, then quit thinking as he let sensations take command of his
nerve centers and body control. The blonde had begun a twitching motion
with her eager young pussy lips. She wasn’t doing it on purpose; it
just seemed to be natural instinct.

Elaine, widespread knees bent almost double, had both feet planted on
the couch. As the first delicious sensation passed and there remained
only the feel of his heatedly pulsating instrument stuck about an inch
into her vagina, she began to long for more depth, for friction, for
movement, for … for … She put it into words, "Fuck me …" Using
her feet and leg muscles, she raised her hips tentatively from the
couch and discovered that the movement caused his long hard penis to
slide in another inch or two. "Ohhhh, God," she chanted, "… so …
wonder … fullll." She dropped her hips and his male hardness slid out
until only the head remained buried between the clasping coral lips of
her cunt. She raised and the cock moved in further, fell back and felt
it partially withdraw.

Amused, the Italian youth grinned down at these first little movements
which betrayed her intense hunger; he was laughing mainly at himself
for his earlier stupid uncertainty over whether she had any energy left
or not. Christ, he thought, she’s got enough fuel left in that hot
little pussy to put us both into orbit. She pushed up her loins again,
moaning this time in frustration, and he decided it was time to end the
game. Slowly … very slowly … he pushed his impatiently swollen cock
inward. It slipped easily through her inner cuntal muscles, down
through the soft, torrid, dripping walls of her vaginal cavity, and
pushed against the muscles of her uterine opening.

The young blonde’s eyes rolled back in her head from the sheer rapture
of the slow entry. She had never believed that a penis’s first thrust
could be so heavenly, but then, of course, she had never been so
aroused, so lubricated before, either. Down … down … down … into
her it went. She exalted with each new virginal territory invaded.
Finally, after what seemed to be an endless eternity, Nino was in his
full length. She could feel the bristliness of the short hair on his
softly swaying testicles tickling her wildly puckering little anus. She
could feel the cock-head buried deep inside of her, throbbing
imperiously against her cervix … could feel every fleshy, muscular
little ridge of his penis pressing against her vaginal walls. And over
it all, she could feel overwhelming contentment and happiness.

Now Nino began to withdraw almost reluctantly, then thrust inward
slowly again. He was moving in and out of her with his eyes closed in
deep appreciation. God, he had never before in his life felt a cunt
that seemed so perfect for his own cock. She was milking him with her
uterine and vaginal muscles. There was one set of muscles that worked
on the head of his cock, squeezing it then releasing it, squeezing,
releasing, until he thought he would go out of his mind. Another set of
muscles, somewhere in the area just below the inner lips of her vagina,
were moving sideways back and forth against the sensitive underpart of
his trunk … all of this going on at the same time she was rising to
meet each of his thrusts.

Elaine realized that somehow or another, automatic reflexes had taken
over her body … and that was fine, because she was able to
concentrate on feeling … pure sensation, pure feeling! She felt
muscles working, hips rotating against cock, felt her fingers kneading
Nino’s powerful shoulder muscles … felt all this, but did not will
any of it to happen. Her lushly sensual body was alive and on fire with
sure independent motion … her brain could relax and let the
incredibly wonderful sensations roll over it. Time simply dissolved
into nothingness. She didn’t know how long these maddeningly beautiful
slow, gentle strokes had been plowing into her, but gradually she began
to feel that it was not enough. She wanted more, and put her request
into words, "Fuck me harder, Nino … fuck harder."

That suited him just fine. It had been fabulous—this screwing in slow
motion, but it had been terribly distracting as well. She was almost
making him cum through use of her deeper vaginal muscles, and he really
hadn’t had a chance to get in a little energetic fucking yet. "Okay
baby. You want it harder, you’ll get it harder."

Abruptly, he reached down and locked his hands beneath her thighs and
lifted them until her knees were pressed tightly against her naked
young chest. Elaine’s eyes had widened at this unexpected occurrence;
she had no way of knowing that this one particular position would add
at least two inches to his thrusts into the heart of her womb. She felt
a momentary twinge of embarrassment at the fact that her vagina was in
midair, helpless—defenseless—but that impression faded instantly
when Nino grunted, "Here it comes, baby." He pulled his heated thick
shaft out until only the head remained locked between the moistly
clasping cuntal lips, then slammed down, down, down—burrowing far
deeper up into her femaledom than anyone or anything had ever been
before.

"Aaaaaagggggh," she screamed in sheer exhalation. His long rampaging
prick slammed against the tip of her cervix and went on beyond this
into the heated lonely void of her uterus. God, he was in so deep that
it seemed his throbbing cudgel was lodged midway between navel and
breasts. There was almost seven inches of hard hot-cock inside there,
inside her, throbbing away like a second heart. Her tight little vagina
felt stretched beyond repairs crammed well beyond its limited capacity.
And yet, even as she was thinking all this, she could feel her deeper
inner muscles welcoming this invader. One eager little muscle jumped
and twitched against the glands, another rubbed continuously against
the corona. And she thrilled at his groans of appreciation and delight.

Now, clamping his hot, wet mouth over her’s, he began a slow fucking
motion between her thighs. Each new powerful thrust inward went to new
and previously unexplored depths of her pussy. The head of his cock
soon was master of it all, and with each jerking throb, it was a little
cannon making tiny explosions which seared the softly sensitive flesh.
His motions soon widened the narrow, pliant passage, and every stroke
brought an abject groan of sheer lust from her throat.

Nino, hearing her mewls of subservience, began pounding into her with a
fury he did not realize existed; his hipbones crashed into the back of
her thighs with each stroke and his testicles hit the trembling walls
of her upraised buttocks like a battering ram. He wanted to hear her
cry "Uncle," he wanted her to know that she had been fucked as she
never had been before … and, somewhere in the back of his mind, he
knew he was accomplishing these things, and the real reason for doing
all this was not revenge, not egotism, but the desire to bring pleasure
to her so she would want him to fuck her again and again and again in
the future.

In the closet, an excited Carlo increased the speed of his rhythmic
stroking on his throbbing cock as he watched the masterful bludgeoning
of the blonde’s wetly glistening pussy. He felt envious that Nino—and
not he—was fucking this beautiful rich cunt. His aching balls
demanded release and he didn’t know how much more of this he could
take. Closing his eyes, Carlo fought the wave of paroxysm that flooded
his senses. Suddenly, his eagerly pulsating cock gave an errant jerk
and the searing load of jism that had been boiling for so long in his
bulging balls erupted, spewing out and around his still clenched and
stroking fingers. Again … then again … hot, white cum erupted and
gushed forth, splashing against the wall and spilling onto the trousers
of the expensive silk suit he had put on with such meticulous care that
morning. Finally, one last little spurt plopped from the penis’s
swollen hole and dribbled onto the suit. He sat motionless for several
moments, savoring the remnants of his release. As his breathing
returned to normal, he opened his eyes and saw the pools of sticky cum
on his suit. He swore under his breath—then looking to Elaine’s
wildly bucking body on the couch—he swore again. He would fix that
little bitch … he would fix her good! Taking a handkerchief from his
coat pocket, he dabbed at his trousers and wiped his hands while his
mind raced, thinking of possibilities. Moments later he smiled, pleased
with his ingenuity. His gaze was still focused on the fucking couple,
but as he watched the heaving forms grunting toward their climaxes, he
really didn’t see them—his brain was far too busy, scheming and
planning.

On the couch, Elaine had long since stopped thinking about what was
being done to her; she was too busy trying to find new avenues of
enjoyment, new sensations by twisting her pelvis first one way then the
other. She found by clenching her bowel muscles that she could bring
her clitoris into continual contact with that long hard rod driving in
and out of her being. She had surrendered totally to this man lying
between her open legs, and she unashamedly worshipped that hot part of
him that skewered so wetly, so powerfully into her.

Her body was beginning to twist and writhe now, and her sounds became
one long sustained mewl as she groaned into his mouth, shoving her
tongue deep into his throat. She was animal, she knew she was an
animal, and she loved being one. She was also servile, accepting
anything done to her, relishing the taint of masochism in her soul,
wanting more … more … more than she was getting. She was the
portrait of pure wantonness: face wrung with passion, nostrils flaring
like some wild mare being mounted by a stallion, neck tendons taut as
cable, eyes hot and vacant with lust.

As if sensing the blonde divorcee’s need for another new experience,
Nino released her knees from her chest; she immediately wrapped her
legs around his naked buttocks and used her calves to drive him deeper.
The youth slipped his hands down over the naked flaring of her hips and
slid them beneath the warm moons of her desperately thrashing buttocks.
He cupped them harshly with each hand and began kneading them like
bread dough as he thrust his thick heated shaft in with a greater
frenzy.

Elaine subconsciously flexed and unflexed her straining vaginal muscles
as his fingers dug deeply into the white, supple flesh of her ass. He
jerked her harder up to his cock, and she spread her thighs even
further, inviting him to do what he willed, as she opened the moistly
hot hole of her cunt in obscene welcome. He pounded into her with a
fury, then—without warning—changed technique again and began making
smooth, longer strokes that drew his cock nearly out of her tightly
clasping vagina before plunging forward again into her uplifted loins.
It was then she felt his right hand stop its kneading motion on her ass
and begin moving into the crevice of her buttocks itself. She felt his
outstretched middle finger tentatively search, then find, her
unprotected and completely defenseless, puckered little hole.

He pressed inward and she felt the soft, rubbery flesh down there yield
reluctantly. "Ohhhhhhh, God, that hurts," she said, twisting her
buttocks in an effort to get away, the motion was hopeless, though, for
his long hard cock had her skewered like a helpless pig on a spit. The
groan bubbled from her lips in pained protest as his finger continued
its unnatural invasion of her rectum. "Eeeeeeeaaahhh, don’t … Nino."
He thrust even harder, and now she saw the cruel smirk on his handsome
face as he took pleasure in hearing her sounds of subjugation.

"Ouuuuuugggh," she cried, as her tiny exposed anus received another
thrust.

Nino, however, was not about to withdraw his finger. He could feel the
warm rubbery resilience of her rectum, and he could also feel the
quivering muscles in there which gave lie to her protests. She didn’t
know yet, but her body was really enjoying the almost brutal fucking he
was subjecting her to. Soon she would be begging. He began working his
finger around inside, stretching the puckered little anal ring ever
wider and wider as his penis continued pounding mercilessly into her
wide-stretched vagina.

Elaine felt a second finger poised at the opening to her back passage,
then it, too, was inside—working in unison with the first finger …
in rhythm with his pistoning prick. The deep guttural protests coming
from her chest began gradually changing from whimpers of pain to low
moans of new increased pleasure as her rectum became used to this
strange invasion.

Within seconds she was shamelessly skewering her anus back onto his
fingers as the Italian boy probed methodically around in the warm,
rubbery depth. New sensations of delight rippled through the young
blonde’s abdomen and up her spine. She knew she was hopelessly impaled
and helpless between the hard driving rod of flesh buried deep in her
womb and those cruel, merciless … wonderful … fingers that wormed
hotly in and out of her behind.

She was squealing like a stuck pig, twisting and writhing in wantonness
under this double rape of her nakedly widespread loins’ when suddenly
she knew she was about to cum. She fought her own body against the
orgasm; she didn’t want to cum … not yet. All this was too beautiful
to end, to change. She tightened up all of her muscles, but that only
intensified the hot vibrations that were beginning to reverberate like
a gong in the heart of her belly.

Nino felt the change in her body, felt the sudden heating up of her
vaginal passage, and knew she was rapidly approaching a climax. Beneath
him, Elaine had begun to chant, "Oh, oh, ohhhhhh," with each breath.
The knowledge that she was about to cum caused his own excitement to
build to a fever pitch; he wanted to cum with her, at the same time.
There would be more later, he knew that for a fact; he felt he could
cum a hundred times with her, could fuck all night, all day, all week–
-forever! And so, he yanked his fingers from her tight little anus and
quickened the rhythm of his thrusts, grinding hard and deep, boring
persistently into the hidden recesses of her pussy.

The nakedly writhing girl’s senses were rapidly leaving her now. There
was nothing left except that exquisite pressure building up in her
loins; she was only vaguely aware of his lips leaving her mouth to
clamp hotly on her right breast, of the feel of his testicles hammering
at her ravaged anus, of his hands moving down across her abdomen to
bring additional titillation to her clitoris. The pressure of the
impending orgasm almost frightened her in its intensity. It was death.
She would die from it. This was it!

"Ohhhhhhh, Nooo … nooooo," she wailed, "fuck harder … I’m cumming
… I’m cumming … I’m cummmiiinnng … againnnn …!"

She writhed seeking one last ecstatic thrust before the dam inside of
her burst. His heatedly thick cock was a huge battering ram slamming
into the portals of all her sensitivity, and the vibrations from the
blows made her tingle from every follicle of her golden hair to the tip
of her toes. This all had to be a dream … it was all too beautiful to
be true. Then, gradually … the dam crumbled and the wave of ecstasy
was upon her.

She screamed loudly, "Ooooohhhhhh, God! I’m … I … I’M …CUM …
MMMMMMM … INNNNNNNGGGGGGG." She jerked upward once with superhuman
strength, then fell back, convulsing on the velour couch. Her legs beat
against the softness of the cushions and her breath came in hoarse
rasping gasps, as the violent, but exquisite, seizure rocked and
wracked her body. She felt, momentarily, that she was one gigantic
vagina, cumming, that every part of her was part of it … and
rejoicing. Even above her own pleasure, however, was the sudden
knowledge that the beautiful penis that had carried her to this peak of
glory was pumping hot, thick spurts of male sperm deep up into her
quivering belly. His hot liquid message of love mingled with her
juices, and they formed a pool of bliss that shimmered and shone in the
no-longer-lonely void of her uterus.

Her heart was pounding as though it were about to leap from her breast
as a great lassitude akin to death, itself, swept over her. Her legs
went limp, her hands fell to her side, and with the last vestiges of
her rapidly fading consciousness she felt her vagina still quivering,
still attempting to pay homage to the throbbing shaft of love still
buried deep, deep inside. She was fainting … perhaps even dying, she
thought … then simply let go … let it all go away … and drifted,
drifted into sweet oblivion. Her last thought before the darkness came
was, "Now … I know …"

As for Nino? He stared unbelievingly down at the blonde’s unconscious
figure. Christ, what was there about her that had caused him to get so
hot? Always before with other broads he had been able to control his
own passion, but not with her! Even now, asleep, her vaginal muscles
continued to twitch occasionally around his cock. He honestly couldn’t
remember when he had cum as much as he did with her. He had flooded her
womb with jism, and it had poured out of him and out of her as though
someone had forgotten to turn off the tap. And his own reactions to all
this bothered him; they were alarming thoughts-things he really didn’t
want to think about. He had wanted to fuck her … had wound up making
love to her. Staring at her now, he felt only a great and bottomless
gratitude to-her and that wonderful young pussy. Slowly, and
reluctantly, he pulled his flaccid cock from between her thighs and it
came out with a slight plop, and with it came a veritable river of
their warmly intermingled love juices.

"Elaine," he said softly. There was no answer. Slowly, he raised
himself, walked to the book-shelf unit, and pulled out the concealed
bed. Gently, he picked her naked form up in his arms and carried her
across the room. He placed her, still asleep, on the double-bed …
then covered her naked young body to protect it from the cold.

Then, thoughts still churning about his own reactions to her, he lay
down beside her, and covered himself with the same bedspread.

As he drifted off to sleep, he was still wondering about the strange
effect she had had on him—wondering about the consequences of
becoming emotionally involved with her …

Chapter 9

Carlo leaned back in his chair, taking in the scene around him with his
usual practiced gaze. Inside, there were only a handful of warmly
dressed tourists; outside, all of the patio tables were empty—the
impending spring shower had driven all but a few stout-hearted tourists
indoors. There was no money to be made today, he thought, as he lifted
the cup to his lips, sipping tentatively at its hot contents. Alas, it
was just as well; there was much too much to be done anyway. First
there was the matter of Nino, and then he had to call Marceau and
complete the arrangements for tonight … he let his thoughts drift,
speculating on the satisfying possibilities it should bring …

Abruptly, his pleasurable thoughts were interrupted by a group of noisy
tourists entering the cafe. "Damn," he swore under his breath, "where
is that stupid, pussy-eater? He should have been here by now!" He
glanced at his watch again—about the night before—and that sensuous
blonde getting fucked silly …; and about the apartment—and how he
had managed to sneak out after they had both fallen asleep. But, most
of all, it had set him to thinking about tonight—and his plan …

It was simple, really. He knew the one thing above all others that
would appeal to Nino. Not a girl. Not sex. No, it was neither of these.
He would hit him where he lived—with greed, with the promise of
money, wealth. And then he would take over from Nino—with that
beautiful, salacious bitch … Elaine. He would teach her things Nino
had never even thought of … He would make her beg for cock, and more
cock, until she …

The spring shower broke without warning as Nino was hurrying along the
street toward the cafe. Cursing, he hastily buttoned the jacket of his
new lightweight suit and sprinted the final few yards. But the sudden
rain was heavy enough to soak him even in those few minutes. When he
entered the cafe, the sight of Carlo comfortably settled in one of the
cafe’s chairs, his long legs resting on top of another chair, did
nothing to improve Nino’s temper. Neither did Carlo’s amused grin.

"Shit!" Nino spat out. He wrenched off his jacket and hurled it down on
a vacant chair. "What a day I’ve had! And then I get caught in a
cloudburst …" He threw himself into an adjacent chair and lit a
cigarette.

"You’re late," Carlo said. "You said you would be here by two o’clock.
It’s half-past now. And I told you that I’d be needing the apartment
this evening."

The effect of Carlo’s remark was explosive. It was what he had
expected—and what he had wanted. Nino’s face flushed a dull red and
he leapt to his feet, his voice rising rapidly as the words gushed out.

"You need the apartment, huh? I suppose you think you own the place?
Well, my claim is as good as yours and you know that I’ve got to have
it tonight. I’ve already told Elaine we’ll be going there, and if you
think you can get away with this, then you’re mistaken; I’ll see you in
hell first …"

Carlo lit himself another cigarette while Nino raved. When the torrent
of words stopped for a second as Nino drew breath to continue his
ranting, Carlo threw up his hands and said sharply: "Stop that and
listen to me!"

His tone was commanding. In surprise, Nino stopped. "Now listen," Carlo
went on when he was sure that he had the other’s attention. "There’s no
need to get hysterical about this. I asked you to meet me so that we
could discuss things sensibly."

"Who’s getting hysterical?" Nino’s voice was still pitched higher than
it was normally, but he had slumped down into his chair again.

"It happens to be my turn to use the apartment," Carlo continued. "And
for once, I’m going to take advantage of it. You’ve had the place
plenty of times instead of me—in fact, you’ve been given almost a
free run. But this time, I’m not fooling. I am using the apartment
tonight."

A sulky pout turned down the corners of Nino’s mouth. "I told you," he
muttered, "that Elaine thinks we’re going there tonight. How do I get
out of that, tell me, eh?" He glared at Carlo, accusingly.

The answer he received was brisk and brought him out of his chair,
sputteringly.

"What do you mean, Elaine and I are through?" Nino croaked, beating the
table with his clenched fist. "Who are you to tell me what I can and
can’t do!"

Carlo smiled, his thin upper lip curled in contempt. He said nothing.
Finally, Nino stopped beating the table, ground his teeth in impotent
rage and slumped into his chair. He sat rigid for a few moments, his
hands still clenched into tight fists. When he sat upright again, the
expression on his face had changed. He adjusted his shirt and his tie,
at the same time giving his friend a crafty look.

"Carlo, you know you only use the apartment for telephoning …" he
began lamely, waiting.

Carlo’s amber eyes narrowed. He leaned forward on his chair. "You’re
wasting your time with that bitch," he said. "You’re wasting your time
with a girl who had no money."

"Elaine does have money!"

Carlo leapt straight into the attack. He did not want to lose the
opportunity of a lifetime—to say nothing of a form of permanent
insurance against possible hard times. He knew that, with a little
behind-the-scenes manipulation, Nino could swing it. After which his
good friend would be set for life. And, should Carlo ever need
anything, he could always remind Nino where his gratitude and
generosity should point …

"You have to wake up, man!" Carlo said impatiently. "Elaine doesn’t
have money; she had an allowance. And it isn’t all that much, either."

Warming to his subject, Carlo pressed harder. "Remember that girl I
introduced you to a couple of days ago—Sue Miller? Listen. She’s an
heiress. An heiress, you understand? An heiress to over one million
dollars. She thinks you’re wonderful; she’s ready to go for you in a
big, big way. This is the chance of a lifetime for you—that chance
you’ve hoped for, for so long. What more could you want?"

Nino made no reply. He drew deeply from his cigarette, his forehead
creased in a set frown.

"It’s all set up for you, Nino," Carlo urged. "All you have to do is
dump Elaine and you’re set with Sue and a million dollars." When the
youth sat silent, Carlo asked weanly: "Now what’s the matter? What’s
wrong with Sue?"

"She’s a lesbian," Nino muttered.

Carlo shot a shrewd glance at Nino. "What gave you that idea? Just
because Maria took her in doesn’t mean she’s a dyke. Christ, the poor
girl was lonely. Besides, Maria is a damned good art teacher and she’s
been helping Sue with her technique. Ask Benito for Christ’s sake! He
balled her at one of Marceau’s parties. He thought she was a terrific
fuck …"

"She has thick legs," Nino interjected.

"Christ, man, you want a million bucks and the most beautiful legs in
the world too?"

"Well …"

"Look, if it’s Elaine that’s bothering you, forget it. You pick her up
tonight and tell her you’re going to a party. When you get to
Marceau’s, I’ll take her around and introduce her to everybody. In the
meantime you grab Sue and head for one of the rooftop rooms. I’ll keep
Elaine busy." He winked at Nino. "After a little of Marceau’s
refreshments she’ll never miss you. It’ll be easy." He looked
appraisingly at Nino. He judged the younger man had accepted the
persuasion. Surpressing a cynical smile, Carlo asked in a tone of
serious inquiry:

"Well, what do you say, Nino? Are you going to drop Elaine or not?"

There was silence. Nino lit himself another cigarette. Finally: "It’s
not going to be easy," he muttered.

"Nothing could be simpler!" Carlo could smell victory. "Sue’s ready and
willing—any idiot can see she’s panting for you! She can’t wait for
you to lay her. And since she has all those lovely dollars, you’d be
well advised to forget those thick legs. Just get down to business."

"It’s all right for you to talk …" Nino began.

"Listen," Carlo interrupted, "I’ve screwed a lot worse than Sue, and
for a lot less incentive, too. And it hasn’t killed me yet. It hasn’t
even bothered me."

"Nothing’s really wrong with her … she’s really a pretty good looking
broad … it’s … just …" Nino’s voice trailed off. He stared beyond
Carlo—beyond the door and the empty outdoor tables—beyond the
street …

What the hell’s the matter with him, Carlo wondered. He’s plainly weak
about the blonde bitch in some way or another. Love? It hardly seemed
likely. But this was no time to take chances on love or weakness. Sue
was the richest fish Carlo had ever caught upon his diversified hook.
She was rich and she had fallen in a felly-like romantic heap for Nino.
That he knew. And one million dollars … It would seem foolish to let
sentimentality over Elaine spoil such a golden opportunity. Carlo
abhorred sentimentality above all things. And … he wanted Elaine for
himself. For now, anyway.

Nino stared directly at him, and even before his friend spoke, Carlo
knew that the million dollars had won.

"Okay," he finally said, his voice subdued. "I’ll pick her up and bring
her to Marceau’s. The rest is up to you."

"Done, my friend." Standing up, Carlo went around the table and held
out his hand. He’d known all along Nino would see sense in the end. He
had been right. He had known all along that in the end—greed would
win. They shook.

"See you tonight … Lots to do … phone calls … and I have to be at
Marceau’s early to take care of the final arrangements." He turned
quickly and headed for the door.

Nino stood for a long time, staring vacantly at the street …

Chapter 10

Elaine had slept, her only movement the deep, steady rise and fall of
her breasts, until, mid-afternoon, she had slowly opened her eyes and
lay staring, wide awake, without moving. She stayed that way for a long
time, looking up at the ceiling without moving or blinking, seemingly
staring inward rather than outward.

After lying still for a long time, she slowly looked around, accepting
the reality of being in her hotel room. It was raining and she saw
through the window that the light outside had a blue smokey hue. Her
mind cleared slowly, emptying itself of sleep, as little vague thoughts
of the night before darted like tiny ants across the landscape of her
consciousness. As her memories came into perspective, she was rocked
with the horror of what had happened … of what she had allowed to
happen, without real resistance or much effort to preserve her natural
dignity. She had allowed herself to be fucked silly—and by someone
she hardly knew! She had actually begged to be fucked and have Nino, a
virtual stranger, squirt his hot male sperm into her! It was
disgusting! Yet. even now in retrospect, the memory stimulated her.
There was no sense trying to fool herself, for she also knew that her
life would never be whole again unless she could live through and enjoy
her senses as she had with Nino. She felt more than ever aware of
herself, of her body, her spirit, the pulse of her very life-blood.
They had made love—yes, fucked!—like two common animals carried
along by the fine high heat of their nerves and body rhythms, joining
in a way she had never known was possible. She tried to fit the events
of last night into the whole scheme of her life up till then. It was
impossible and she felt the wave of excitement that was building within
her at just the thought of what they had done—an exciting light-
lingered quivering between her thighs as she remembered her seemingly
endless climaxes under Nino’s relentless tongue and driving loins. It
was then that she decided she’d better get up before she allowed her
body to become aroused again.

Languidly, the sensually naked blonde crossed the room to the closet
and withdrew a long, flowing robe and slipped it on. She paused to
brush her hair and saw that even the dim light made the thin fabric
almost transparent, and she seemed even taller and more beautiful than
usual. She decided that her sexual encounter of last night must have
agreed with her for her skin was milky white, clear and sensuously
soft-looking, and her cheeks were slightly rosy, even though she had
just risen from bed. Bed! Last night! Nino! Just the recollection of
the darkly handsome Italian boy sent a little thrill of pleasure
through her, making her nipples harden and tingle. Nino! His muscled
suntanned body. His animal lust. His … his penis, so hot, so hard, so
wonderful! He had driven her almost mad with desire! But no, she had
already decided that she was not going to think about him … for a
while anyway.

She walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Maybe it would
help. She’d taken one this morning after he had brought her home, but
that had been for a different reason. Her body had been covered with
the dried remnants of their orgasms from last night and from the one
she had reached shortly before he had brought her to the hotel room.
God! I’ve got to stop this, she thought and stepped into the shower.
She let the spray cascade down her back and over her body, gradually
decreasing the amount of warm water, until, ten minutes later, she
stepped out, shivering. After drying and slipping back into her robe,
she padded back into the bedroom, fixed herself a cup of instant
coffee, and sat down on the couch to wait for Nino’s call …

Chapter 11

It was nearly dark by the time Carlo reached Marceau’s mansion atop Nob
Hill. Nick, the huge Nubian valet, directed Carlo to a large walnut-
paneled study which was Marceau’s working room.

"Ah, Carlo, my boy. It’s good to see you again," Marceau greeted him
from behind an enormous desk in one corner of the room. "You have done
your part, I trust?"

"Marceau, you know me better than that. Have I ever let you down?"
Carlo answered, striding toward the warmth of a marble fireplace which
dominated the wall adjacent to Marceau’s desk. "They will all be here.
And you? Have you prepared the little surprise I phoned you about?"

Marceau Verner III stroked his neatly trimmed beard thoughtfully and
watched Carlo carefully through half-shut lids. "My boy, you never
cease to amaze me. First you give me less than a full day to prepare,
and then you phone me hours before the party with some special request.
And to top it off, you expect to extract from me a commission for your,
eh, services." His hand slid forward several inches and tapped a plain
white envelope lying in the middle of the huge desk.

Carlo eyed the man narrowly. "Ah, yes, Marceau, but it is not everyone
who could bring you such beauties. Young virgins. And six of them."

Marceau sat motionless, his eyes closed, only the tip of his tongue
flicking once through compressed lips, betraying whether he was asleep-
–or dead. After a few moments his lids fluttered open and the corners
of his mouth twisted upward in a wry smile. "Ah, Carlo, forgive me.
Growing cynical is the leprosy of advancing age. Forgive me, please,"
he said, rising. "A brandy?"

"Yes," was all Carlo replied as he watched Marceau limp slowly to the
well-stocked bookcase bar. His gout must be getting worse, Carlo mused.
It was a shame really. He wasn’t that old. If it gets much worse I’m
liable to lose a customer, he thought, walking quickly to meet him and
take the offered drink.

"To our success," Marceau said, raising his glass in toast. They both
sipped, then, Marceau lowering his glass continued: "I have taken the
liberty of having Meg set a place for at the dinner table. It is not
well for one to work on an empty stomach. No? And then we shall tour
the ballroom and the top floor. You agree?"

"Umm," Carlo answered, lowering the glass from his lips. It really was
good brandy. Expensive. Marceau did have good taste. Well in most
things. "Yes. That would be great," Carlo answered. It wasn’t often he
was treated to fine brandy and an exquisite dinner. Only once before
had Marceau invited him to dine.

*  *  *

When dinner was finished, both Carlo and Marceau sat quietly,
contemplating. It had come to Carlo during dinner that Marceau was the
only man he had met whom he admired. Now, as he sat, sipping an after
dinner cordial, he wondered if it was really the man he admired or his
ways; his aristocratic grace, his wealth, his passion for getting what
he wanted. Somehow, Carlo knew, that he too would someday acquire all
of these.

"My boy," Marceau began, interrupting Carlo’s musings, "We had better
be off. The guests will be arriving soon, and there are still some
details that must be taken care of. Come, I will show you to the
elevator. As you know, I have made many changes since you were here
last. Meg is already upstairs and she will show you around."

As they walked to the elevator, they passed the grand ballroom. The
room blazed with light from three huge chandeliers. Three waiters
arranged a buffet on tables set up at the far end of the room, while on
a dais opposite the buffet, a five-man ensemble was tuning up. The
thought crossed Carlo’s mind that Marceau was indeed a careful man.
Should any uninvited or unwanted guests drop in, the respectable party
with its legitimate guests should provide a perfect cover.

When they reached the elevator, Carlo noticed there was now a second
one next to the one Carlo had always used before. Marceau took a key
from his pocket and placed it in a lock where the call button usually
was. He turned it and the doors opened. Removing the key, he handed it
to Carlo; then stepped aside to let him enter.

"All you have to do is press the Up button," he said. "There are no
stops between the foyer and the top floor. You do the same in reverse
when you come down."

Carlo nodded, then smiled. He pushed the button and the doors hissed
closed.

Meg was waiting for Carlo as the elevator doors opened. She was in her
late twenties, tall, slim, and brown-eyed, with darkly burnished auburn
hair tied neatly with a black ribbon behind her head; she was wearing a
simple, expensive dress in basic black with one unobtrusive gold pin on
her shoulder.

Carlo smiled at her and she returned the smile. "Let me show you
around," she said.

She turned and he noticed she had a good ass, fine legs, and slim
ankles. He followed her around the circular corridor. Everything was
white, highlighted only by paintings; paintings in gilded frames
mounted on red velvet; paintings of nude men and women depicting
various forms of copulation.

Meg caught his gaze. "All the paintings are from Mr. Verner’s private
collection." She stopped at the only door on the right and opened it,
letting him walk in ahead of her. He stood there for a moment. It was
almost unbelievable. The entire circular room was actually a small
amphitheater; half of the room was a slightly sunken stage, the other
half consisted of private booths facing it. An elaborate fountain,
fashioned entirely of colored glass, played in the center of the
otherwise bare stage. Opposite were five booths; two accommodating
eight, and the center booth accommodating perhaps a dozen. They were
designed so that from within, only the stage could be seen.

Carlo walked to one of the end booths and looked inside. On the back
wall, behind the cushioned, horseshoe-shaped seat, was a built-in bar.
It was well stocked and ready for action, including several bottles of
champagne chilling in ice buckets. On the veneered table was a silver
tureen resting on an ornate warming rack. There were also cigarette
boxes, a humidor, matches, and ashtrays. "As usual, Marceau has seen to
everything," Carlo mused to himself. He turned and nodded to Meg. Just
before they reached the door he noticed a recessed alcove on one side
of the stage. He stopped, and the brunette, following his gaze,
replied, "Dressing rooms." Carlo glanced at her briefly and then
followed her back into the corridor.

They continued around the circular corridor with its miracle of nude
paintings, and by the time they had reached the elevator again, Carlo
was curious. He had counted nine doors leading off the corridor—all
on the left side. Six of them were of different colors, three white.
The first had been painted blue, the second green. Then there had been
a white one, then violet red and another white. Meg noticing his
puzzle] expression, opened the white door. He stepped inside and found
himself in a dimly lit, narrow hallway. He walked perhaps fifteen feet
and came to a dead end.

Puzzled, he turned just as Meg flipped a hidden switch by the door and
suddenly both sides of the blank walls were floor-to-ceiling glass, and
he was looking into empty bedrooms on either side. Immediately he
realized that Marceau had designed a voyeur’s delight—a double
delight! Meg beckoned to him and he retraced his steps to the door. She
flipped the hidden switch again and the walls were once again bare. She
closed the door silently and walked back a few feet to the yellow door.
Once again she opened the door and let him enter first. He was in one
of the bedrooms he had just seen from the hallway. Meg turned a dial
and the triangular room gradually lit up. It looked like a stage
setting; with only one exception, the entire room was done in
contrasting yellow’s; rug, ceiling, and a giant round bed almost in the
center of the room. The exception being the walls; they were mirrors,
floor to ceiling.

Carlo looked at Meg. "No outside windows?"

Meg walked to the bed and pressed the first of a series of buttons on a
small night table. There was a low humming sound as the ceiling rolled
back and through the now glassed ceiling a few evening stars twinkled
between scattered clouds. She pushed another button and a cool wave of
fresh air invaded the room.

Before the Italian Guide could catch his breath, she pushed yet another
button and the giant bed began to slowly rotate; then another and
television sets appeared from each of the three mirrored walls. He
watched breathlessly as each of the sets came on, each showing the same
identical scene—a room just like the one he was in. The only
difference was that each room was a different color—blue, green, and
violet.

Now she pushed another button and all three sets changed; blue changed
to red, green to orange, and violet to yellow—and smack in the middle
of the set showing the yellow room, stood Carlo, wearing an incredulous
grin. Abruptly, the sound of rainfall reached his ears, then the sound
of muted, sensual music. Suddenly, he realized the girl had touched
more buttons. He walked to the bed just as she pushed the first seven
buttons in reverse order and in moments the room was restored to its
original state.

He was shaking his head as he followed Meg to the door and back to the
elevator. Well, Marceau had certainly done his part, he thought, the
rest would be up to him. He knew it wasn’t going to be easy. It would
be like a performer juggling a half-dozen eggs. If he dropped one they
were all going to wind up scrambled.

Mentally he began to go over the plan in his mind, ticking off the
details in sequence. He had staggered the times he had told everybody
to be there. First arriving would be Benito and Hannah, followed
shortly by Sue and Maria, the Count and his guest, the six young girls,
and finally Nino and Elaine. He had asked Benito first because he
needed help—he had to get Sue separated from Maria. While he kept the
heiress with him, Hannah and Benito would take care of Maria. When the
Count and his friend arrived he would have Benito introduce them to
Maria Then a taxicab driver friend would deliver the six girls, and he
would have Benito take them up to the Count and Marceau. They were
their worry after that—he had just promised to deliver them. Finally
when Nino and Elaine arrived he would have Nino attend to the door.
While he was introducing Elaine to everyone, Nino would slip away with
Sue. From there on he was on his own. The elevator stopped with a
slight bump. He stepped out just as Marceau entered the foyer from the
direction of the ballroom.

"Ah! Carlo, everything is in order?" he asked.

"Great. As usual, you have exceeded yourself."

"Thank you," Marceau smiled. "And now, my boy, we should take up our
stations. It will not be long before our guests begin to arrive. As
arranged I will greet the guests who are destined for the ballroom and
you will take care of the ones for upstairs. Ah, by the way," he said,
grinning, "I have talked to Trembles about the little surprise you
requested and the matter is arranged. Oh, yes, one more thing." He
reached in his pocket and produced a plain white envelope. "Here, I
think you will find this adequate," he said, smiling.

Chapter 12

Carlo breathed a sigh of relief as the elevator rushed them to the top
floor. Everything so far had gone according to plan. Moments before, he
had left Nino and Sue stationed in the foyer, awaiting guests who would
arrive, and now he was taking Elaine upstairs to introduce her to
Marceau. She had swallowed the lie easily enough, expecting Nino to
join them before long. He let his gaze travel over her lush young body
and chuckled to himself, knowing that before she became suspicious he
would have her under his influence—thanks to Marceau’s special
mixture.

Elaine caught the movement in Carlo’s eyes as they traveled over her
figure, pausing slightly at her ample breasts, flat stomach, and flared
hips. She had remembered him immediately when they had met downstairs.
He had been the one with Nino in the cafe … He was as good looking as
Nino, she thought—the same finely boned features, the same muscular
body. She was glad now that she had worn the green dress—knowing that
it perfectly accentuated her ripe figure in just the right places.

Abruptly, the elevator bumped to a stop. As the doors hissed open
Elaine heard the muted strains of rock music and felt his gentle touch
on her arm as he led her toward it.

As they entered the room, Carlo noticed that the room had undergone a
transformation since he had been up there. Now, the only illumination
in the circular room came from psychedelic lighting above the sunken
stage. He noticed that two of the young girls were dancing with the
Count and his friend as he led Elaine toward Marceau’s alcove table.

Elaine squinted as her eyes attempted to adjust to the room’s darkness.
She knew there were dancers on the stage, but in the flickering light
it was difficult to distinguish their features.

Carlo stopped abruptly at a table from which copious giggling was
issuing. "Elaine, I would like you to meet Marceau Verner, our gracious
host. Marceau, this is Elaine Craig."

"Charmed, my dear," Marceau answered, disentangling his arm from the
giggle and rising.

"Mr. Verner …" Elaine replied, nodding her head slightly toward him
and smiling.

"Please … call me Marceau …" He hesitated, wondering. Could it be?
But, no, it was too much of a coincidence … He looked beyond her to
the figures on the stage. Still …? "If there is anything you wish,"
he finally said, breaking the short silence, "please feel free to ask.
The show should be starting very soon now … I hope you will enjoy
it."

"Thank you, very much," Elaine said, a puzzled look crossing her lovely
face. She thought it strange that neither of the men had bothered to
introduce her to the woman in the booth. Her eyes had become more
accustomed to the dim light and she bent forward. straining to see into
the back of the booth … God!

She was only a girl! Not more than 15 or 16. The girl with flaming red
hair stared back, then grinned, and finally giggle Elaine was about to
speak, but just then the lights dimmed even more and the music stopped.

"Come," Carlo said, pressing Elaine’s hand. "The show is about to
start. We’d better get to our table."

"See you later, Marceau," he called over his shoulder as they picked
their way across the darkened room.

"A drink?" Carlo asked after they were seated.

"Thank you," Elaine answered. "I could use something!"

"How about some of Marceau’s famous hot buttered rum?" he said,
indicating the tureen resting in its warmer on the table.

"Yes, that would be fine," Elaine replied. Although the rain had
stopped, it had been cool outside and she still felt a little chilled.
Maybe the hot rum would warm her.

Carlo filled two glass cups from the tureen, handed her one, then
raising the other, said, "To your health."

Elaine nodded in response, then sipped the warm liquid. What an unusual
taste, she thought. But it’s good. Very good! She sipped again.

They sat silently for several minutes, drinking, lost in their own
thoughts. They lit cigarettes from the box on the table, then, Carlo
noticing that her cup was almost empty, refilled it. His own cup was
nearly untouched. He grinned. Not only was she drinking the hot rum—
literally laced with hashish tea and Brazilian Bola an exotic
aphrodisiac—but he had just fit a cigarette for her filled with just
enough powdered hashish to keep her from coughing, yet strong enough so
that just one had the potency of a whole joint of first-class
marijuana.

Suddenly, from the direction of the stage, the pulsating beat of a
single conga drum began. Gradually, a single orange spot of light began
to illuminate one side of the stage. Elaine was mesmerized as the
majestic figure of Marceau’s negro valet, Nick, gradually appeared in
the soft illumination. He was seated, cross-legged, on the far side of
the sunken stage, clasping the African conga drum he played between his
bare legs, wearing only a lion-skin loin cloth, his naked arm and chest
muscles glistening in the warm orange illumination. Elaine scarcely
dared to breathe as she watched the light begin to pulse in rhythm to
the enormous negro’s beat, flickering eerily off of his naked ebony
skin with each throb.

The vibrant scene seemed to be having almost an hypnotic effect on her.
She was beginning to feel light, airy, and her temples pulsed with the
thumping beat coming from the drum.

Carlo watched her closely. God, he thought, she’s really taking off,
floating into another world. She’s really feeling the hashish. And
before long she’ll be in the grip of the bola. He knew its effects, he
had seen them before. And, by God, he was going to see them again.

As Elaine continued to watch the negro, the hashish began to take
complete control of her nervous system … She began to experience a
humming, vibrant feeling, rising slowly from her toes, crawling
steadily toward her skull. Never in her life had she felt so completely
relaxed … secure … unafraid. It was good to be with a friend, a
handsome young man, someone who would confidently guide her through the
evening … To express her appreciation of him, she leaned closer and
was pleased when he smiled, squeezing her shoulder lightly and nodding
toward the stage. She had been so distracted by Carlo’s presence and
the effects of the drink and the hashish, that she had neglected to
notice the appearance of a young girl on the stage.

Sharon, the slender blonde that Carlo had delivered to Marceau, was
sitting on the end of a bid in the center of the stage, her hands
folded, slating blankly off toward the audience. Her lithe figure was
illuminated by a steady beam of light in much the same manner as was
the negro drummer. Suddenly the tempo of the drum increased, and
everyone—including Elaine—watched intently as the slender blonde
bent dawn and grasped the hem of the filmy yellow gown she was wearing.
Rising, she slowly slipped the gown upwards, exposing her slim white
legs and then the slender, boyish thighs.

Elaine could hear eager sounds of delight from the males in the
audience as the gown staked its way over the girl’s head and her
graceful but not full-developed torso emerged. Her little budding
breasts burst into view and, in the stage light, her small, quivering
nipples appeared like tiny pencil erasers. Raising her alms up over her
head, she pulled her waist-length, sandy-colored hair up, then released
it to cascade like shimmering gold over her sensuous slender shoulders.
Then, stretching languidly, she turned to face the negro drummer and
gave him a wanton smile. She was completely naked now, her slender
alluring nudity presented for everyone to appreciate.

Elaine shifted anxiously next to Carlo. A faint glimmering of
understanding came over her, and she could not help but watch with
fascination and wonder.

Relaxing, Elaine leaned back against the cushion and found Carlo’s arm
waiting there. She was quite happy and Carlo’s arm was reassuringly
solid and muscular … so surely it could not hurt anything to sit back
and enjoy herself.

Her attention was drawn back to the stage when the drum beat suddenly
changed tempo. It was other-worldly, yet had a soul-stirring rhythm
that touched the very core of her being. She saw that the slender
fourteen year-old girl was holding a small bottle full of an amber
liquid. She unscrewed the bottle cap and poured a small amount of the
substance on her fingertips. For some reason the act provoked a murmur
from some of the other booths, but it was not the kind of murmur that
Elaine recognized. Instead, it sounded more like a chorused groan of
animal ecstasy, of fevered expectancy. The pretty teenager reached out
her smeared fingertips and massaged her breasts in tiny teasing
circles, tweaking the soft nipples to sudden throbbing hardness. Then-
spreading her legs she exposed the thin pink slit of her vagina
nestling secretly in the soft light-brown pubic hair up between her
thighs. Pouring out more of the glistening liquid on the ends of her
fingers, she lewdly parted the hair-lined lips surrounding the tight
vaginal passage, applying the substance, dabbing it on the tiny exposed
clitoris and along the inner ridges of the fragile pink orifice.
Setting the bottle aside, she walked to the bed and stretched out on
her back. Slowly she began caressing her own ripely budding body,
working herself toward a burning passion as her lithe little buttocks
twisted against the black satin covered bed as though she were trying
to bury herself in it. Her eyes were glazed with desire, and the
whiteness of her naked flesh began to turn a rosy blushing color.

Elaine’s mind was pirouetting madly, trying to sort out her own
feelings from what the girl’s must be. She flushed slightly with guilt
as she felt a fleeting desire to be where the cute, naked teen-ager
was, experiencing the same thing. Squirming her buttocks nervously, the
young divorcee felt the edge of the booth cushion come into tingling
contact with the soft swelling of her cuntal lips, a contact that was
intensified by the nylon panties and smooth dress she was wearing. She
tried to sit straight and stop her squirming, but she was powerless to
stop herself, though, and ground down with greater force against the
cushion rim as her breath quickened. The musky odor of Carlo’s male
body filled her nostrils, stimulating her even more. it was a rich,
earthy odor that made her want to snuggle closer and drown in the
excitement of the forbidden naughtiness rippling through her. Without
thinking, she moved nearer, and made no protest when his hand came to
rest tenderly but firmly on her right breast. Perhaps this very
excitement was what she had been afraid of all along, she thought,
casting a furtive sidelong glance at Nino’s friend.

Catching her eye, Carlo leaned close and whispered, "The liquid is
called Bola and comes from the jungles of Brazil. Marceau visited there
and learned its use as a stimulant from the natives. As proof of the
aphrodisiac’s power the 14 year-old naked girl on the bed writhed more
lasciviously now, as though she were being attacked by some unseen
beast. The heat and excitement in the room was beginning to arouse
Elaine against her will. She knew now that she was not the same girl
she had been when she had entered the room. She pressed down against
the cushion again, until the doubled hem of her short dress was bunched
up and pressing into the crevice of her buttocks. Meanwhile, Carlo had
tightened his hold on her breast, clenching and unclenching its firm
full roundness with a rhythm that matched the erotic writhing of the
girl on the stage. The young divorcee could feel the wetness slowly,
but inexorably, spreading between her thighs, and she moved forward a
few inches to gain more solid contact with the cushion. This was
unheard of, a kind of sin, but she found it impossible to still the
driving urge in her limbs.

She looked at the stage again after what seemed a long time but was in
reality only a moment or two. Without realizing it the pungent hashish
had distorted her sense of time, and she was surprised when she saw the
golden-haired girl begin to run both of her own hands over her body,
her fingertips dancing exploratively over the flat, ivory belly and
coming to rest, together, at the "vee" of her soft, hair-covered young
loins. The drug-crazed little girl groaned at the thrilling contact of
her hands with the moist slit between her thighs and pulled her legs up
like two gloriously carved creamy columns above the black satin spread,
and then, with a deep sigh let them fall gaping wide on either side of
the bed. Her fingers crawled on her nipples and pinched them roughly,
making the sensitive flesh shiver and contract in their erectness. It
was clearly evident that the aphrodisiac was having the desired effect
on the child.

Elaine wriggled uncomfortably in her seat when she saw the girl slowly
tease her middle finger into the glistening pink slit of her vagina and
begin stroking the swollen bud-like clitoris with her thumb. Carlo’s
hand clutched Elaine’s breast more firmly, and she heard and felt his
breathing becoming heavier. Just then, she saw the girl begin to
finger-fuck her finger in and out smoothly between the Bola-agitated
cuntal walls, joining the middle finger with two more and pushing all
three into the hungry pink folds. They disappeared and emerged again
and again with a moist sucking noise, causing the girl to sigh and moan
with pleasure.

Elaine’s body stiffened momentarily as she watched this lewd indignity,
and only Carlo’s firm grasp on her trembling, aroused breast kept her
from leaning forward to hang on the edge of her seat with real concern
for the blonde teen-ager.

But the naked little girl on the bed was now hopelessly possessed and
worked her mouth eagerly in rhythm with the drum. Her eyes and teeth
were clenched tightly shut as she shamelessly writhed her open vagina
beneath her driving fingers in an ever increasing frenzy of passion. It
was almost more than Elaine could stand witnessing this obscene act
right before her very eyes, someone should make the teen-ager stop—do
something to help her. Yet the aroused divorcee shuddered and chilled
from a sexual acceleration that watching something forbidden gives, and
she remained silent.

Elaine hardly noticed or cared when Carlo skillfully unbuttoned the top
of her dress and slipped his sweating palm inside her brassiere to cup
and hold her warm naked breast.

Now, starting to lose all control herself, Elaine’s heart was pounding
savagely in her chest; she was certain that her companion must feel it
thrashing under his strong hand. He rubbed his fingers lightly over the
nipples, stopping to pinch them to pebble-hardness and causing a ripple
of delicious sensation to flow through her each time he did. Her breath
was steadily quickening, coming in tight gasps as the burning sensation
in the hollow pit of her trim young belly grew in maddening intensity.
She was beginning to perspire in her arousal, and she could feel a
trickle of sweat running from her navel down her stomach into the
sparsely haired pubic triangle at the base of her belly. Its slow,
teasing trail caused her to squirm and push forward her sex-flushed
breasts more firmly into Carlo’s hand. Another trickle ran down the
valley back between her buttocks, falling onto the tight pink flesh of
her anus. Her nerves were thoroughly frayed and her drug-heavy mind
throbbed like a bellows behind her eyes. She knew she was in trouble,
her own doing, and should not allow Carlo to squeeze and knead her
breasts this way. After all, he was an utter stranger. But still, she
wanted to avoid being called a square, an innocent child … and
besides, a little petting could not hurt anything so long as it came to
a halt before real trouble started.

She was thinking of the seeping wetness between her thighs when her
eyes strayed back to the stage and the obscenely swaying body of the 14
year-old girl. Small trails of sweat were building and running down the
slender blonde’s body, glistening in the spotlights and reminding
Elaine of her own heated body. A sense of identification with the girl
was stronger than ever, sending stronger and stronger ripples of sexual
need through her own trembling limbs. She could feel Carlo becoming
increasingly excited- and was certain that he could feel the frequent
grinding of her vagina down against the cushion. Embarrassed, she made
an effort to appear that she was merely changing position, but it was
becoming nearly impossible to conceal the fact that she was just as
stirred up as he was by their contact and the obscene spectacle before
them.

Carlo was fondling her large breasts more enthusiastically now,
pinching her bud-like nipples harder until they throbbed higher in
guilty pleasure. A wash of shame came over her when she realized that
she was truly jealous of the girl on stage; she yearned to have
something or someone in her own moist passage, yet she knew that this
was only a temporary, unrealistic desire spurred by the unusual events
taking place. Her good sense and the strict upbringing she had had
would never allow her to take on a strange man, in a strange place, in
these strange circumstances at a weird party in a strange city. It was
absolutely unthinkable. And yet? God, she was not certain! The
delicious intoxication she felt, the scene on stage, Carlo’s caresses,
plus the basic drives of her own healthy body … all were taking their
toll on her ability to ward off whatever might confront her.

She was losing her mind!

Suddenly there was an anguished cry from the girl on the bed. She was
twisting her head from side to side wildly’ her long blonde hair
sweeping the black satin spread. She was experiencing the first
blinding throes of searing orgasm and fucked back greedily against her
fingers like a she-demon gone berserk.

Elaine stared in fascination as the young girl began to thrash and buck
wildly from side to side, up and down, signifying the cataclysmic
upheaval exploding deep in her young belly. As her hand flopped
uselessly onto the bed, her firm little buttocks glistened in the warm
light, displaying the soaked curls of her pubic hair and the fragile
pink flesh of her pussy as she pitched backward on the bed and lay
struggling for breath. One final thump boomed from the drum and then
it, too, became still. In a last act of depravity, the black drummer
walked to the bed and swiped his long fingers over the little blonde’s
oozing cuntal flanges, gathering some of the love juice on the ends of
his dark fingers. Leaning forward, he seized the panting girl by her
hair and drew back her head to wipe the sticky liquid on her open,
trembling lips.

A murmur rose from the booths as the stage lighting gradually receded
… the rock music started again, and Elaine watched as several couples
walked by their booth headed toward the corridor.

"Come with me," Carlo said softly, rising as he took her hand to leave.
"I’d like to show you something."

"I could use some fresh air," she said, allowing herself to be led out
of the room into the cool, refreshing air of the corridor.

Chapter 13

As shocked and excited as Elaine had been at the lewd display of wanton
lust in the amphitheater, now the cool air of the corridor heightened
her senses and made her want to cling to Carlo. He was really a true
friend, she thought to herself, and certainly she could not blame him
for having become aroused and touching her during the strange lewd
performance. After all, she had herself—more than she cared to
remember. In fact, to be perfectly honest, the fires of passion were
still smoldering inside her, and she could feel the warm moisture down
between her thighs where it flowed from her wetly excited pussy. Just
walking and the resultant rubbing together of her vaginal lips was
heightening the embers of desire and sending sharp tingling waves of
building pleasure spreading out in all directions from her clitoris.
Even the light shiftings of her dress across her breast as she walked
were sparking her already painfully hard nipples to greater heights of
sensation.

Carlo was leading her along the corridor and when he came to the first
painting, he stopped. Elaine was flabbergasted as she stepped forward
to see the art exhibit. Nearly the entire wall was covered with the
lewdest sexual acts imaginable! It was a huge orgy scene, done so
realistically that the tangled mass of bodies and limbs seemed to be
alive. There must have been nearly a hundred figures in it, some in
pairs, others in groups of three or four, and even five. Elaine was so
shocked by the orgy scene that she failed to protest when Carlo led her
across the corridor and into a room. She was even more surprised when
she stepped through the door and saw the entirely mirrored room with
its blue rug and huge, round, blue bed.

Suddenly, Elaine gripped Carlo’s shoulder for support as tide after
tide of strong, mind-reeling desire rose in her, dizzying and confusing
her. Surely it could not still be the effects of having watched the
wanton performance, she thought, casting about frantically for an
explanation of the erotic feelings inflaming her entire body. Even at
this moment she could not remember the young girl’s face or much of
anything else. Only the thought of finding some sort of relief for the
inferno inside her … one that had come out of nowhere … occupied
her mind.

"How do you feel now?" Carlo asked tentatively.

"I feel … sort of funny … strange," she muttered.

"Yes, I know," he said and smiled mysteriously, staring into the
gorgeous blonde’s glassy eyes with leering impertinence. She did not
understand the meaning implied by the expression on his face and could
only concentrate on the fire now raging out of control in her loins,
making her breasts tingle, her flat white stomach contract, her breath
rise and fall heavily.

"Are you ready?" he asked harshly, still staring at her, the lights in
his eyes almost blinding her with their piercing brightness.

"Ready for what?"

"Listen, Elaine, don’t fool yourself. I know what you’re feeling now,"
he growled, suddenly changing from the gentle, understanding man she
had known earlier into a snarling, gruff stranger Title the manner of a
wounded bear. She suddenly began to suspect his meaning and a feeling
of complete helplessness came over her … There must have been
something in the rum drink … That was it! … That was what had made
her feel so … so strange … It wasn’t just the intoxication from the
rum … It was something else … Oh … my God … it must have been
that … that Bola stuff the young girl had used on the stage … Oh
… no … no!!! She clenched her thighs together automatically as the
memory of the young girl’s wanton writhing flickered momentarily
through her mind. But the pressure placed on her clitoris by the
tightly-squeezed lips of her pussy only stimulated her more and she
could not resist the urge to squirm restlessly.

"That’s right … You’ve got it, baby," the Italian guide said,
confirming what she realized just then. The flash of understanding that
crossed her face was easy to interpret.

"Oh Carlo, Carlo, how could you!" she wailed, half-heartedly attempting
to invest her tone with a note of accusation. But her own voice
betrayed her and seemed to come from far away, a shaky weak sound that
was not at all what she had intended. Her brain was a swamp of
vagueness and lassitude, and only the sweet burning palpitations in her
breasts and loins were important now. She knew she had been tricked and
cruelly taken advantage of, but still nothing mattered at that moment
but the sexual stirrings that were inexorably taking over her mind and
body.

She could not even bring herself to object when Carlo walked over to
her and, with insulting calmness, began to undo the buttons on her
dress. What was worse, she really wanted him to—she wanted to be
naked and have her lust-crazed body kissed and caressed until the
unwanted fires were mercifully quelled.

She gazed at the handsome young man, the torment between her shame and
the drug-induced desire making her eyes fill with tears of embarrassing
frustration. All her life she had been in control—at movies and even
in the back seats of cars when boys had tried to take advantage of her,
use her loveliness—but now she was defenseless against this near
stranger and herself.

The bodice of the dress hung inside out at her waist now, and he was
working frantically at the zipper at the back of her dress. When the
stubborn mechanism finally came free, he slowly pulled the zipper tab
down her back and reached up with both hands to hook his fingers inside
the waist-band of the garment. He drew down the dress with infuriating
boldness, pulling it to her knees to reveal the lush white Mesh of her
firm thighs and hips. Quickly then, he removed her brassiere and
panties—the last remnants covering her nakedness.

He was on his knees now kneeling on the floor before her, and she could
do nothing but stand there, completely naked, as he stared eagerly at
her magnificently formed, youthful breasts and then down at the soft
warm flesh of her wetly quivering pussy.

She flinched and uttered a shrill cry when with a surprisingly gentle
touch, he moved forward and placed his thumbs on the lips of her heated
vagina, slowly spreading them open and allowing the cool air to play on
the moistly sensitive flesh that was revealed. He peered greedily at
the delicious, glistening coral tissue he had laid open to him. Two
tiny sparkling droplets of moisture rested on the fragile, pink petals
that peeked out at him, while the erect pea-shaped little clitoris
pulsed before his eyes.

The passion-producing substance he had given her was driving her nearly
insane and, despite her sense of humiliation and the fact that she knew
that this was wrong, she relished his shameless caresses and hoped that
the moment would never end.

Elaine felt the hot wisps of his breath graze her raw, secret flesh and
she murmured unintelligibly as suddenly she felt his long red tongue
flick out and lick wetly up through her parted cunt, his moisture
mingling with her own … My God, she thought to herself, this was
purest heaven!

Then Carlo fastened his lips around her throbbing clitoris, licking and
sucking, and she began to involuntarily wiggle and squirm her hips in
half circles, all the while pushing her groin against his face. The
entire length of her vaginal aperture was flowering open to him and
there was a perfumed musk of female sexual juices on his tongue. She
gave off the tangy exciting aroma of young womanhood, and the satin
skin of her thighs clasping his face in a gentle embrace was like
sweet-smelling velour. He felt her hands on his head, pulling his mouth
into the parted pubic hair with the strength of a tigress. When he
responded and moved forward on his knees a little more, pushing his
weight against her, she lost her balance and staggered backward a few
steps until the edge of the bed caught her behind her knees and she
fell nakedly flat on the blue satin spread with a groan of passion and
surprise.

He rose, then, and quickly removed his clothing and hastily tossed the
wadded-up garments in a heap on the floor. Hearing the rustling sound,
Elaine opened her eyes and saw dimly that he was thoroughly naked, his
muscular male body presented like a god’s for her appraisal. With a
shudder of disbelief, she let her gaze fall to his train loins and saw
his thick, pulsing penis jutting out like a tree trunk from between his
legs. Gasping, she stared in open hunger at the heavily-corded shaft
rising with the ominous aspect of a totem-pole above the hairy balls
below. The broad hard head flexed and spread even more as she watched.
She cringed inwardly, thinking that no woman could possibly take
something that monstrous inside her body … She would be split
asunder, torn, forever ruined and of no use to any other man, husband
or lover.

"Well now, Elaine, what do you think of that? Have you ever seen a
prick this big before?" Carlo asked crudely, his lips curled back in a
teasing smile as he took the massive cudgel in both hands and waved it
obscenely at her.

Elaine lay frozen under the appalling crudity of his obscene words. And
yet their very lewdness excited her more and more, so that she was at a
loss to understand her own reactions to what was occurring. She could
feel the increasing moisture soaking her cock-hungry vagina and crossed
her legs to press them closely together, trying to ease the burning
sensation that was churning so madly in the pit of her stomach. Carlo’s
fervent licking and sucking of her vagina had turned her entire body
into a tense bundle of raw nerve ends that she was powerless to
control. She continued to stare at his massively pulsating penis as it
grew even larger, soaking up more blood and standing out farther, a
bone-stiff pole that was an inflamed pink right up to the collar of
skin under the head. The head itself was purplish, larger in diameter
than the long base, like a knuckle-less fist at the end of an upraised
arm. There was still a vicious smile on his face as he stood there
holding his semen-oozing tool, pointing it at her insultingly and
enjoying the obvious effect it was having on her.

"Goddamnit, answer me?" he barked. "How do you like my prick? Now
wouldn’t you like me to slide it up between your legs? Now!"

"I-I don’t know … It … it’s so big," Elaine stammered, hating
herself for not obeying her instinct to rise and flee from the room, to
run away from him and the certainty of what was soon to happen. But the
potent aphrodisiac he had given her, plus everything else that had
happened so far that evening to stimulate her rendered her incapable of
moving or wanting anything at all but what was surely in store for her
if she remained there on the bed. Then, as though he had heard her
thoughts, he stepped proudly up to the bed and sat down beside her,
reaching over with both hands to seize her breasts and squeeze them
together like huge straining grapefruits. She could feel small pin
pricks of delicious feeling racing through the tips of them as he
rolled the light brown hardening nipples between his thumbs and
forefingers. The heat of his eager breath rushed at her as he turned
his head toward her and locked his mouth firmly on hers. She tried to
turn away, reflexively, not wanting to succumb, to make a last futile
stand against the impending surrender of her honor, but the pressure of
his strong male grip was altogether too much for her in her present
state of mind. Nothing mattered but her glorious, mind-leveling
feelings and she lad forgotten about being a proper young lady, about
everything … except the sheer joy of having this splendid male body,
lusting for her tingling female flesh.

His hands then dropped from her ripe white breasts to fondle her hips
and trace the lovely full convexities of her flanks and the sides of
her slightly flattened bare buttocks. She felt the gouging hardness of
his huge, heatedly throbbing penis against her thigh as he leaned over,
his hands busy caressing her lower torso. Now his hot mouth clamped
wetly over one breast, sucking and pulling hungrily at it, frequently
pausing to nip and nibble with his teeth at the erect nipples.

"Now do you know? Now do you want about seven inches of cock in you?"
he asked demandingly, his voice hoarse and rasping.

"Oh … I … I’m afraid" the drug-dazed young divorcee responded
innocently, unaware that her very helplessness served only to excite
him more. Surely he knew that she was raging inside, that her naked and
willing body was exploding with desire from his touch and the large
portion of the aphrodisiac she had trustingly swallowed. And yet for
some reason she clung to the ignorant belief that he was guiltless’
crude but guiltless, and had no motive other than to satisfy the same
insistent craving for satisfaction and release that she felt. Then, her
thoughts momentarily detouring, she pictured her ax-husband and the
disgusting image of his sickness, how he had stifled her and prevented
her from freedom and any semblance of simple fun in their relatively
short marriage. These thoughts renewed Elaine’s anger, an anger that
ironically fueled her present passion to the point of daring and a
state of mind just short of being completely abandoned. Yes, by God,
she had always wanted to break free and now she had the chance, even if
she was young and naive, frightened as much by her own accepting
attitude as she was by the prospect of allowing Carlo to insert his
awesomely large penis in her tight, cringing cunt.

"Yes … I want you, Carlo," she murmured, training her smoky, desire-
filled eyes for a moment on his face as he feasted on her breast, now
rosy and wetly gleaming from the mauling of his mouth. The candor of
her confession did not seem to surprise him and he wasted no time as he
lifted himself from her, grasping her shoulders to move her into a
better position, length-wise, on the bed. Using her globular white
breasts for leverage, he pulled himself on top of her, his heavier
weight along the length of her body squashing her down into the satin
covered bed. He came to rest directly between her tender pulsating
thighs, forcing them wider with his own thighs as he pulled her tightly
against him and dropped one hand down between them to take his long
hard throbbing cock in his fingers and guide it forward, using the
thick rubbery glans to part the wet, fleshy lips of her luscious pussy.
She flung her head to one side on the bed, closing her eyes and
groaning as she felt its hot startling contact against the waiting
ragged edges of her glistening cunt. She held her breath for what
seemed an eternity, lying there in utter wantonness beneath him, not
even daring to breathe or move.

"Ooooh, God!" she finally moaned, no longer in her womb. She was
whimpering and pleading desperately now as he began to fuck ruthlessly
into her, gritting his teeth with lust and luxuriating in his awareness
that she was compulsively following him, beginning to hump in spasmodic
jerks beneath him. She groaned as if in anguish, shocking herself as
she threw up her arms to wrap them tightly around his neck, pulling his
solid well-defined chest into the soft whiteness of her beautiful white
breasts. He plunged his long hard cock in and out, filling and emptying
her, sinking his heatedly throbbing shaft back and forth between her
tightly clasping cuntal lips and on up to her cervix until there was
not a single tiny ridge of flesh on it that she could not feel pressing
into the walls of her sensitive pussy flesh. The young blonde’s mouth
moved against her will, opening; and closing in response to each body-
jolting stroke of his huge thick hardness, her shining golden hair
flowing out on the bed and fanning like light velvet, catching subtle
highlights of gold and rust as her head rose and fell with her
movements. There was nothing that could stop her insane race for
fulfillment, and Carlo fucked like a savage to end it for both of them.

"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me … hard, hard!" she begged without thought
of shame, her whole being centered on the delicious pleasure that had
replaced the first pain of his brutal impalement of her. He slithered
his strong, sinewy hands under the wildly pumping cheeks of her
writhing ass and cupped them firmly, raising them up off the bed to
gain better access to her open and pleading loins. Then, pressing
further forward, he forced her lovely long satiny legs up off the bed
in an arc far back over her head, pressing her knees harshly into the
bed on both sides of her shoulders.

Her tortured body was bent back double, jack-knifed, the stress on her
strained muscles almost causing her to beg for mercy. The glistening,
wet flattened plane of her groin was presented up to him as he
increased the rapidity of his thrusts, the penetrations making her
moistly quivering cunt secrete and expand wildly before his primitive
assault, the very attack that thrilled her beyond thought of caution or
conscience. He fucked into her from the tips of his toes and crammed
the last fraction of the last inch of his cock into her with thundering
lust, bringing fresh ecstatic moans from her lips that responded
through the room like cries of a wounded beast. Her nostrils flared
further open and her eyes, now glassy and unseeing, were rolled back
and fixed hypnotically on the stars twinkling through the glass
ceiling.

Carlo placed his hands on either side of her and lifted himself so that
he could watch the blonde girl’s face. It was something he did not want
to miss, the opportune and humiliating surrender of this wanton bitch
under him, wild with the effects of the hashish and Bola which had used
to lower her resistance. Her arms which had been tightly entwined
around his neck, her long, tapered nails clawing frantically at him to
pull him into her, suddenly slithered down now and seized his ass-
cheeks with demon-like strength to help him fuck between her naked
thighs with greater impetus. Juicy smacking sounds filled the room with
each brutal stroke he made into her, blending in tempo with the sounds
of their breathing and the rhythmic lurching squeaks of the bed. Their
bodies were drenched with sweat from their exertions as Carlo labored
over her, changing his quick frantic thrusts to longer, smoother
strokes that brought his hotly throbbing cock almost all the way out of
her desperately clutching vagina on the back-stroke and then forward
into her until she could feel the blood-swollen head of his penis
colliding hard against her womb deep inside.

Her body was slippery from the sweat of the wild untamed gyrations of
her ravenous body and her head flailed crazily back and forth on the
satin spread beneath them as she began reaching for the orgasm just
beyond her grasp.

Carlo heard her sharp gasp of pleasure as his hands roamed on the
softly yielding crevice of her buttocks and, surging with the building
tempo of his lust, he moved his hands higher to draw her legs up and
around his neck, clasping her ankles together like some human necklace.
He fucked into her mercilessly now, skewering her, and she was loving
it, fucking back shamelessly, urging him on, calling for more … more
… everything!

"Darling, fuck me! Fill me!" she begged, gasping as if she were close
to death.

"You’re a little whore, aren’t you?" he demanded, ramming harder for
emphasis. "You love cock, don’t you?"

"Ooooooooh, yesssssss! … Yesssssss! I love cock … fucking …
cock!" she moaned, out of her head with the humiliating truth of her
confession. Stirred by her own lewd words, she swung her ecstatically
trembling thighs up and tightened them around his neck, grinding her
naked young ass in uncontrolled frenzy up and down, from side to side,
spiraling her sweet, hot young cunt along the full length of his huge
ramming cock to gain every atom of pleasure she possibly could.

He knew that she was his now, completely, utterly, and had no intention
of showing the least bit of mercy or human compassion. He wanted to
hear her plead for his hot cum, to beg to be filled with it. And even
she, in her mindless ecstasy, could sense the building storm of sperm
in his testicles, that soon he would give her the load she wanted so
shamelessly.

"Tell me, you bitch, tell me what you want," Carlo growled as he
purposefully slowed his stroking movements and teasingly sank his
tremendous penis only halfway into her. "Do you want my cum in you? Do
you!"

"Oh yes, yes, please!" the voluptuous young blonde gasped, her pride
completely vanished as she lay impaled and naked under his weight. The
thought of begging him to drive the huge cock into her and empty his
balls in her belly was unbearable, but she was beyond caring and
yearned only to share a mutual pinnacle of pleasure with this
tyrannical stranger.

Pleased that she had submitted to his demand, Carlo increased the tempo
of his lunges until he could feel the load of his male sperm rising for
an earth-shattering release, the huge head of his cock flexing and
suddenly growing larger inside her ravaged cuntal passage. And then, at
last, he grunted like a dumb beast and heaved forward, his hot thick
liquid spewing deep up into her stretched and battered womb.

Elaine was stunned when she unexpectedly felt the gush of his hot cum
shoot into her writhing belly. It was too soon … She was so near,
almost at her peak, and the astonishing explosion of Carlo’s climax
brought tears to her eyes.

Carlo felt her cunt jerk toward him, the lips working and sucking at
his spurting cock. Then … after a long moment … he rolled off her,
breathing deeply in an effort to fill his lungs with air.

"No! No!" she cried, spreading her legs wider and raising her naked
young cunt into the air in search of something to fill it. "Fuck me!
Fuck me!" she pleaded hoarsely as she drew back her legs even further,
pulling apart the fleshy wet lips of her cunt and presenting him with a
perfect view of her open throbbing cuntal passage oozing his shining
sperm. "More, you bastard, I want more cock in me!" she shrieked at him
in her violent frenzy.

Carlo grinned lasciviously as he watched Elaine’s cunt flailing wildly.
Now, he thought, now I’ll fix the little bitch. Reaching to the night
table, he pushed one of the buttons-the button that would summon the
surprise Marceau had arranged for him. Turning back to the writhing
figure on the bed, he said, "Patience, my dear, in a few moments you
will have more cock-plenty of cock."

"Please … Please …" Elaine moaned from the bed, her voice trailing
off. She was going mad, and in desperation she shoved two fingers into
her wetly throbbing pussy and began finger-fucking the hungry pink
folds of her own hungrily clasping cunt. It wasn’t what she wanted, but
it was better than nothing. She was glad to have something to fill the
void of her starving cunt that she did not hear the door open, nor see
Nick and Trembles enter the room …

Chapter 14

Meanwhile, Warren Craig, the Count’s guest, sat in the center booth
listening to the strains of rock music issuing from the empty stage. He
was bored; everyone seemed to have disappeared to somewhere or another.

Idly, he switched on the television set above his head. When the
picture came into focus, he was no longer bored. The picture showed the
interior of a bedroom, with a couple rutting in the middle of a large
bed. As he reached up to adjust the color he discovered that the room
was decorated only in one color—green. He stared intently at the
couple, trying to make out their faces. Ah, now he had it. It was a
young man he hadn’t met and the rich heiress he had met earlier,
fucking wildly, oblivious that anyone was watching them.

Curiously, he pressed one of the set’s colored buttons and watched the
set change channels. What was there? The room was the same, just a
different decorative color—yellow. And here too, was a couple rutting
wildly. He studied their faces. It was Benito and his rich widow. He
pushed the orange button. Ah, this was even better. His friend the
Count was stretched full length on the bed with one of the young girls-
–the dark-haired one—straddling his loins while another one of the
even younger nymphets eagerly straddled his face, fucking her little
cunt against his mouth as though she had been doing it all her life.
Hmmmmmm. If only the FCC could see this! He pushed the violet button.
Ah, Marceau. Now this looks interesting. On the bed was the giggling
redhead with her head buried in the loins of another of the young
girls, who was equally enthralled with the private parts of the
redhead, oblivious to Marceau who was using a big black whip on the 14
year-old blonde girl who had appeared on the stage. He tried to watch
the girls on the bed but with Marceau’s bare-assed antics, getting
between the bed and camera, he couldn’t see a damned thing.

So, he pressed the last button—the blue one!

Ah, ha, Carlo! And behind him, the big black drummer and the midget,
Trembles, Marceau’s chauffeur. But who was the blonde on the bed
finger-fucking herself. He squinted to get a better look. My God! It’s
Elaine! Elaine! My wife … ex-wife. What … what in the hell is she
doing here? And like that!

Without bothering to turn off the set, Warren left the booth and
hurried toward the corridor …

Chapter 15

"You wanted more prick! Well here it is!" Carlo said harshly to the
writhing figure on the bed. "Look at it!" he commanded.

Elaine’s eyes fluttered open, but her fingers continued slamming in and
out of her cock-starved vagina. What she saw made her recoil in sheer
astonishment—and her fingers stop. Nick stood alongside the bed, his
huge black penis as thick as her wrist, long and throbbing, rising up
in ebony hardness like a jerking tower from between his legs. Holding
his rigid shaft proudly, Nick edged onto the bed, then reached down
with his other hand to draw back the foreskin in a teasing motion that
brought a smile to his lips.

"You still want some prick?" Carlo taunted

Elaine’s eyes were wide with fright as she stared at the inhumanely
massive cock, but the drug’s effect on her hungry pussy was stronger.
If she didn’t have a relief soon, she would go out of her mind.

"God, yes," she pleaded, not really knowing what she was saying. "Fuck
me! Fuck me before I go mad."

Carlo nodded and Nick reached forward with both hands and pulled Elaine
across the bed, forcing her head down between his dark thighs in a
position that was uncomfortable to stand unless she moved to the floor
on all fours.

"No," she cried, "put it in me!"

"Not until you suck it," Carlo commanded from behind her. "If you’re a
good little girl, then you can have some cock."

At this point the sex-crazed young divorcee would do anything for it.
Her tongue darted out automatically, the tip coming into wet warm
contact with shining head of his cock. She circled her pink fleshy
tongue around the smooth, rubbery black flesh as he groaned and twisted
above her. Her hands dropped to the base of the huge erected prick and
she cupped his smooth, heavy testicles with one of them, grazing her
dainty tapered nails tantalizingly over the hairy flesh. The other hand
she placed at the thick base of his penis where it soared from the
crinkly black pubic hair covering his lower stomach. She squeezed it,
her fingers barely able to fully encircle the huge girth, and pulled up
and then down hard, skinning back the foreskin until the large gleaming
head stood alone and naked against the softness of her wetly parted
lips. She began planting moist warm kisses around it, beginning at the
tip and tracing a path down the full length of it to the bottom and
then moistly back up to the tip again.

But the huge Negro could wait no longer. With a gurgle deep in his
throat, he reached down to lock his hands behind her head and thrust
his loins up with the strength of a bull, and the broad, thick black
cock crushed through her soft moist lips into the warm wet cavern of
her mouth. She could feel the hugeness of it slithering up the length
of her tongue and stuffing her mouth completely with its thick fleshy
hardness. He began a slow, lascivious rhythmic undulation of his hips
up into her lust-contorted face.

Just then, out of nowhere, she heard another voice. "Shall I start now,
Carlo?"

"Yes, start, start!" Carlo barked.

"Whmmmmmm, whmmmmmmmt," Elaine struggled to ask, attempting to form a
question around the cock in her mouth. God, what else? she wondered
hysterically, trying to imagine what the unknown man was about to do
with Carlo’s consent.

"This charming young girl wants it, don’t you, Elaine? You want the
special treatment? Right?"

"Mmmmmmmm, nommmmmmmm," she protested. She did not even know why or
what she was afraid of.

Carlo grinned as he watched the midget hurry to the bed and grab the
cheeks of her nakedly writhing ass presented up to him.

They were all so engrossed in this new debasement that they did not
hear the door silently open and then shut. Nor did they see the man who
stood in the shadows watching the merciless despoiling of his ex-wife.

"Now," Carlo hissed as the midget parted Elaine’s quivering legs and
pushed his short blunted penis into the defenselessly upthrust crevice
of her buttocks.

The drugged young divorcee mumbled in protest as she felt her anus
being stretched, the walls of her narrow anal passage popping open from
the harsh outward pull of her ass-cheeks.

"Here it goes …" Trembles said, growing excited as he pushed his
impatiently throbbing shaft forward and pressured the giant tip into
the opening of Elaine’s cruelly stretched ass. They were sadistically
abusing the girl and she was poised in hopeless dejection, on all fours
like a dog, the hands holding her so strong that she could not escape.
Waves of shame and humiliation washed over her in an evil tide of
defilement. She was glad now for the drugged drinks she had had earlier
or she could never have stood being sandwiched in this lewd position
between them with the depraved black man and the unknown man free to do
as they wished. She could not see who was entering her from behind but
felt his pressure and grunted with pain even greater than before when
his thickness pushed further into her. She wanted to lift her mouth and
scream for them to stop, tears running freely down her cheeks as the
shaft penetrated another torturing inch and then another. It was
hideous and she felt her buttocks being swept wider as the instrument
bored forward into the tightly clenched canal of her ass. Her pussy was
aflame. Her arms were trembling and her back ached from the inhuman
position she was in. She could only mumble.

"Put it in deeper … Give her the ass-fucking she deserves," Carlo
urged the midget.

The agony increased as he rammed forward still further, and she felt as
if her tender body would split all the way up to her swinging breasts.

Suddenly, without warning, the implacable desire inside her cunt became
a rabid torrent once more, and she began to roll her buttocks high up
behind her, clasping desperately with her cunt muscles at the hotly
pulsing penis burrowing into her anal passage.

Now she wanted to exploit it to the limit, to fill her entrails with
it. She punched back wildly at the throbbing shaft in her ass and
sucked voraciously at the massive black cock in her mouth, almost
gagging, her cheeks hollowing and filling with his every thrust. It was
the first time she had ever tasted cock, and now it was sliding down
into her desperately working throat as she fought for breath, managing
to catch quick gulps of it on the outstroke of his thrusting. She was
beyond fighting this lewd rape of her mouth and rectum. She could not
even visualize what was happening to her—she was all sensation and
mentally raving at the slave to erotic fury she had become within a
mere matter of minutes.

"Well now, look at her … She’s changed a lot hasn’t she," she heard
Carlo say sarcastically.

The powerfully pistoning penis in her rectum smacked with renewed
force, as if in answer, ravaging her, disappearing and surfacing,
caving her forward onto the Negro’s rock-hard cock and spreading
Elaine’s throat until she thought she would die from suffocation alone.

She arched upwards, the cords in her strained neck standing out, her
long blonde hair falling on the ebony loins around the cock she was
sucking with all her might, trying to time her movements to those of
the Negro’s … yet never forgetting to follow as much as possible the
quivering gyrations and pummelings of the long hard shaft behind. It
was ramming and fucking into her at its full length, and God! it was
beginning to feel wonderful!

"Slap the bitch’s tits!" Carlo shouted to the black man. In obedience,
Nick released her head with one hand and then drew it back to deliver a
sharp, stinging slap to one of her bouncing breasts. The kneeling
blonde responded, moaning with a muffled sound and yet feeling a
delicious sensation of odd masochistic joy. The blow only increased her
sense of debasement, thus increasing her shame, but nothing could
diminish the pleasure she was beginning to feel.

Oh, if only he would-shoot his cum in my mouth, Elaine yearned,
mumbling out her submission to the lewd desires racing through her
cock-ravished body. She was truly their slave, and now, inciting her
more, the huge Negro valet was leaning forward a little to course his
hands over her swollen white breasts. He was reaching the crescendo of
his own desire, she could tell, and wormed as best she could one of her
hands over to once again cup his magnificent balls, pulling on them
lightly as she was driven backward with each lunge he made into her hot
wet throat.

"Tighten your lips, bitch!" he snapped at the slaving girl, his voice
tight with passion.

Elaine followed his bidding, at the same moment feeling her own climax
approaching, the first of a rapid series of mind-destroying jolts.

Then all hell broke loose!

Nick, in front of her, jerked suddenly as though lashed with pain and
jammed his hips up tightly into her face, sinking half the fantastic
length of his wildly jerking cock deep in her gasping throat. She could
not breathe, could not care, for the incredible prick was erupting in
the gratefully receiving interior of her sucking mouth as strange,
profane chantings escaped his lips. His hot thick sperm squirted into
her mouth like a rush of raging water through a storm drain, and she
sucked and swallowed, her cheeks inflating and deflating the whole time
from the pressure of the bursting dam of Negro cum. It lasted forever,
it seemed, her throat accepting the warm sticky liquid of his passion,
and then it pulsed with a long last jerk … at last softening beneath
her swirling tongue. The young divorcee’s reason was gone, and she
clung to him as her greatest orgasm of all stiffened her voluptuously
writhing body, flooding out in great sensual waves of cum just as the
thick, jack-hammering cock in her ass spewed into her too. Cum flowed
out of her in hot liquid streams, making her cunt lips throb and flower
open wide as it ran down the insides of her trembling thighs. Her
ecstasy was indescribable, and all of her groin felt wet and used
beyond belief.

She was crying, tears of real joy pouring from her eyes; then they
fluttered closed and she released the Negro’s now limp penis, its
softness slipping from her tightly pursued lips with a slight pop as,
at the same time, the cock withdrew from her satiated rectum with a
wet, obscene sucking sound.

Elaine fell immediately across Nick’s thighs, exhausted, her surrender
almost complete. Almost … Because at that moment she opened her eyes
and saw the midget who had been fucking her from behind … Almost …
because just then the stranger stepped from the shadows, and she stared
with disbelief at her ex-husband … Almost … because, one after
another, all of the guests took turns on her, keeping her hot wet cunt
and soft sucking mouth filled with male flesh.

And she loved every minute of it!  Epilogue

Carlo sat back in his chair, crossed his long legs, and surveyed the
plaza. There were not many people in the square and those who were
strolling up and down were mostly San Franciscians. Another spring,
thought Carlo, the beginning of another season. Soon, there would be
crowds in the square, crowds of eager tourists, all ripe for the
plucking …

Trust Benito to be late, he thought, I have to bloody well wait while
he takes all day to get here.

Just then he saw Benito’s short, stocky figure hurrying across the
plaza toward him. Benito spotted him, waved and broke into a trot;
Carlo raised one hand in a languid salute.

"Sorry. Sorry." Benito was out of breath. He sat down at the table,
looking intently at Carlo.

"Where did you get that sun tan?" he asked Carlo.

"In the mountains," was the brief reply. "Weren’t you there at all this
year?"

Benito looked confused. "I … I haven’t been well," he muttered. "My
nerves were all shot to pieces. I’ve been resting at home …"

Christ, thought Carlo, if he’s spent the winter at home with that
monster of a mother, no wonder he looks pale.

"Have you got the apartment?" Benito asked.

Carlo nodded.

"Same as last year?"

Carlo nodded again.

There was a brief silence. "You heard about Nino, I suppose," Carlo
finally remarked.

Benito shook his head. "I haven’t heard much news lately."

"Then you’ll doubtless be interested to hear that Nino—our dear
friend Nino—married Sue Miller, the heiress. Her father had not only
millions, but multi-millions. I checked," Carlo said. "We can’t afford
to make mistakes over details like that."

Benito didn’t answer. They sat quietly for a few minutes, each lost in
his own thoughts.

Carlo’s mind was busily reviewing the season’s prospects. It was going
to be a good year, he could feel it in his bones. He had dumped the
travel agency job. All sweat and precious little profit. Now he had
some real contacts, the kind who would put him onto the really
lucrative stuff. He leaned further back in his chair, his long legs
stretched out before him. The details were nicely sewn up already. He
would be getting the lowdown on every well-heeled arrival in San
Francisco, even before any of them hit town. There were some very
interesting projects lined up. Marceau and the Count had the hots just
thinking about the parties they were going to organize; Carlo knew how
their minds’ worked … And his new partner should add a new wrinkle to
the game.

Benito looked uncomfortable. He wriggled on his seat. "Let’s get the
apartment settled," he suggested.

"The rent is higher than last year," Carlo said smoothly. "But that’s
only to be expected. Nothing else is changed."

A pale ray of April sunshine suddenly brightened the plaza. They both
looked up just 186 – as the slim figure approached their table.

Carlo rose, saying to Benito, "Here she comes now."

Benito’s eyes twinkled in recognition as the lovely blonde with the
piercing blue eyes settled into the chair Carlo pulled out for her.

"Benito, you remember Elaine, don’t you," Carlo said.

"Yes," Benito answered, "I remember Elaine …"

The End

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