Chapter 3

Jack grinned, a little self-consciously, and stepped past Sue into the cabin's interior. The walls were constructed of unvarnished redwood, the ceiling was high, with exposed studs, and the furniture was old and comfortable, mainly rattan and old leather. There was a homey, comfortable atmosphere to the cabin, and the dim, filtered afternoon light added to its warm solidarity.

As Jack crossed the bare wooden floor, Sue shut the door and followed him into the mail living room. He could smell a faint, musky perfume, and the headiness of the odor made him slightly light-headed; images of candlelight and soft music and brandy in fine old crystal decanters flashed briefly through his mind. He shook his head, grinning his wry grin; hell, next thing you knew he would be getting romantic notions and half a hard-on, which would do him no good at all since Adie was miles away in Seattle - and Sue Mason was strictly out of bounds. Still, though, the lewd thoughts he had harbored about the voluptuous Mrs. Mason after making love to Adie last night returned momentarily; Christ yes, she would probably be one goddamned holy terror in bed, the way she walked, and smiled, and smelled was irrefutable testimony to that...

Sue said, "Did you have any trouble finding the place, Jack?"

"No, no trouble at all."

"We were sure you wouldn't."

"This really is nice of Bob and you, Mrs. Mason..."

"Sue."

"Well, all right... Sue."

"It's our pleasure," she said. She smiled warmly at him, and her eyes in the pale light were dancing with hot, sparking embers. "Would you like to take the guided tour now, Jack?"

"Yes," he replied. "Fine."

The cabin had four rooms in addition to the huge main living room. There were two small bedrooms, each equipped with a large double bed and a dresser; a tiny kitchen with a stove and refrigerator; and a circumscribed sun porch with floor-to-ceiling windows running the width of the dwelling, which looked out on an oblong, fenced-in rear yard with several pieces of lawn furniture and quite a few large shrubs and bushes. Beyond the fence were rolling sand dunes, extending for about five hundred years, and the dark, blue-black, white-capped surface of the Pacific Ocean.

Sue concluded the tour on the sun porch, saying, "You could work out here, Jack. Pull the bamboo blinds if the light gets too strong for you." She indicated an oval redwood table at one end of the porch. "You could use that as your desk."

Jack looked around. "Sounds great," he said. "Are there any electrical outlets here? I've got an electric typewriter..."

"Behind the settee there."

"Good. Perfect, in fact."

"Well," Sue said, smiling at him, moistening her lips with the tip of her tongue. "Are you planning to do any work tonight?"

"I don't know," Jack mused. "I usually do my best writing in the morning. I could work a little tonight, but I'd probably be wiser to get a very early start in the morning."

"Then you wouldn't be averse to having a drink with me, would you?"

"Why... no, not at all. In fact, I think I could use a drink after the drive."

"Would you mind doing the honors, sir?" she asked lightly.

Jack grinned. "Not at all."

She reached out and took his hand. "Follow me."

He allowed her to lead him back into the living room. The touch of her fingers on his hand had an odd, tingling effect on Jack; it was as if there were tiny, hidden electrodes beneath her skin, vibrating through to his flesh. He felt a certain dryness to his throat, and his eyes were on the undulating rhythm of her rounded buttocks through the tight orange shorts. Damn, but she was a hell of a sensual woman! he thought. If he wasn't married, and she wasn't married... well, there was no use thinking about ifs, getting himself all worked up over nothing.

There was a roll-out bar near the large stone-and-mortar fireplace at one end of the living room. As she slid the compact unit out of the redwood wall, Sue said, "I'm afraid we really don't have much of a liquor supply here. We seldom use the cabin."

Jack bent over to peer at the bottles. "Vermouth, sweet and dry; ruby port; and... what's this?" He lifted a large bottle of clear liquid from the shelf.

"Ouzo," Sue said, smiling. She was standing very close to Jack now, her hand brushing lightly against his arm. "My favorite! Do you like it, Jack?"

"I don't think I've ever had any."

"It's very good," Sue told him. "It's a Greek liquor. Tastes a little like licorice."

"Well..." Jack said dubiously. "How do you mix it?"

"You don't," Sue said. "It's served over ice. I'll get some from the refrigerator."

She moved away, returning moments later with a tray of ice. Jack had put two glasses on the bar face, and she dropped two cubes into each one. He uncapped the bottle and poured some of the clear liquid over the ice; almost immediately, its consistency changed to an opaque, almost milky one. "Hey!" he said. "I thought only Pernod did that."

"No, Ouzo does, too," Sue lifted her glass, waited until he followed suit, and then said, "A toast. To your novel, and its ultimate success."

"Thank you, ma'am." Jack sipped the drink, found that it did taste a little like licorice and that it wasn't at all bad; in fact, it went down quite smoothly.

"Like?" Sue asked.

"Hmmmm!"

"Shall we sit down on the couch?"

"All right."

They sat down. It seemed to Jack that Sue sat rather close to him. She crossed one slim, tanned leg over the other, tightening the material of her shorts into the sharply-defined slit of her crotch, making the folds of her pussy bulge out in bas-relief the brilliant orange of the material. She leaned forward slightly, holding her drink in one hand, so that a good deal of the creamy white mounds of her full, globular breasts were exposed to him - and just a hint of the ruby hardness of her nipples. He felt a slight flush start on the base of his neck, but he wasn't able to take his eyes from her provocative lushness. His prick spasmed once, twice, beneath his trousers with beginning arousal. Quickly, feeling a little ashamed, he took a long deep pull at his glass draining the Ouzo.

"I'll make us another one," Sue said, taking a healthy sip of her own drink. Before he could protest, she slid off the settee, took his glass, and went to the bar. She was chuckling quietly to herself as she refilled their glasses from the bottle of Ouzo. The liquor was one of the world's finest and most subtle aphrodisiacs, though most people were unaware of the fact; she'd been drinking it for a number of years, and knew the effect it had on the masculine libido after three or four. It increased her own Sexual fervor, too, though she could control herself if she felt like it; not that she was going to feel like it, of course. Yes Jack Rolfe was hers now, no mistake. She felt initial droplets of fluid begin to flow from the sensitive walls of her cunt as she thought about what would be taking place within the next hour. Oh, she was going to throw a fuck that Mr. Jack Rolfe would never forget. Never!

She carried the filled glasses back to Jack and handed him one. She was aware of his eyes on her, and she glanced every now and then at the front of his pants. She could see his cock pulsing there, jumping spasmodically from time to time, pushing his trouser material out briefly, and her cunt juices began to flow faster with increased anticipation. The second drink disappeared even more rapidly than the first, as she knew it would, and she quickly poured him another one. He didn't protest at all but drank thirstily from it when she gave him the glass.

Jack felt a warm, relaxed lethargy begin to flow over him. The drinks were beginning to have an effect on him, he knew that, but the feeling was so pleasant that he really didn't care. So what if he got a little drunk tonight? As long as he didn't get really bombed, so that he had such a hangover he couldn't work in the morning, why what the hell? Why not celebrate? The use of this cabin, and the philanthropy of the godsends that were the Mason's, merited celebrating; and, of course, it wasn't every day that a man had the opportunity of getting mildly looped with a woman as beautiful, as provocative, as Sue Mason.

She was really something, he thought admiringly. She exuded pure animal sex, like a kind of miasma encompassing her invisibly as she walked, moved, spoke. What he'd like to do, really like to do, would be to reach out at this moment and take her in his arms, kiss her, love her up a little... oh, not anything more than that, he wouldn't fuck her or anything, but Lord it would be nice to kiss those soft red lips, caress those hot-looking white breasts, tweak the nipples into rock-hardness, take each one in his mouth and roll it around and around his tongue...

He felt his cock jerk into sudden, instant rigidity, as if it were alive, as if it were straining for release from its cloth prison. He tried to will it limp again, to banish the lewd thoughts swirling in his mind, but it remained throbbingly blood swollen. Guiltily, his eyes went to Sue's face.

She was looking at the bulge in his pants.

And she was smiling with half-parted lips and fervid eyes.

"Why, Jack!" she said in mock surprise, mock reproof. "Whatever were you thinking about to have that happen now?"

"I... well, I... , " he stuttered.

Sue laughed deep in her throat.

"Sue, I... I'm sorry, it's just that I..." he faltered.

"I know what it is," she whispered. "I know why you have a hard-on Jack."

His breath quickened at her vernacular term. "You... you do?"

"You have a hard-on because you want to fuck me," she said. "That's right, isn't it, Jack" You do want to fuck me, don't you?"

"Oh God!" he managed to breathe. His prick seemed to be palpitating wildly in his pants now, and his brain reeled. Had he heard correctly? Yes, yes, of course he had. But why was Sue talking to him like that? What was the matter with her? Oh Christ, he could feel his balls begin to ache from the pressure of his gathering sperm; he really needed it, he really did, and Sue Mason talking to him like that wasn't helping matters any. Didn't she know what might happen, saying obscene words like that to a man? Didn't she know? He took another long swallow of his Ouzo, and found that his hand was trembling slightly.

She leaned close to him, and he could feel her breath on his cheek, like the scorching heat of a white-hot firebrand. She touched his knee, lightly, but her fingers seemed to sear right through the cloth. "Well, Jack"' she asked. "Wouldn't you like to fuck me? Wouldn't you really?"

"Sue... Christ, Sue, cut it out! I'm... only human... !"

"And so am I, Jack dear. So am I," she purred on. "My cunt is on fire right now. And the only thing that can put out that fire is a big, hard cock, Jack. I can tell you do."

And she reached out and touched the throbbing bulge.

He almost lept off the couch in a convulsing reaction to the electrical shock of her touch on his sensitive penis, encased though it was. Sue stroked it lightly, tantalizingly, sliding closer to him as he tried to pull back, increasing the rhythm of her strokes. Her breasts pressed hotly, softly against his arm, and her lips found his jaw line, traced a pattern upward along his cheek and then over to search for his mouth. Her tongue trailed a path of liquid fire along the skin of his face as her hand continued to rub his already uncomfortably swollen prick.

"Sue... please, for Christ's sake!"

"You want to fuck me, don't you?" Sue repeated, droning the words in an almost mesmeric voice, like a hypnotist practicing her art on an unwilling but nonetheless hypnotizable subject. "You want to fuck me, Jack you want to fuck me."

"No, I... no!... oh Jesus, yes, yes, yes yes yes yes!"

He couldn't help himself. The words tore from his throat, in a strangled kind of whisper that he scarcely recognized, and then his mouth was grinding against her, his tongue was flailing deep, deep into her mouth. Sue's hand began to move faster on his turgid prick, and she sucked and nibbled at his tongue, swirling her own tongue around and around his, darting it into his mouth and then drawing it back to accept the onslaught of his probing member. As if with a will of its own, Jack's left hand came up and found her breast, squeezed and kneaded the flesh momentarily, then dipped inside the orange halter to draw the garment down and away, exposing her nude breast with its fiery nipple and dark brown areola. He could feel the wetness from the seminal fluid which seeped from the gland on the hardening tip of his prick as she continued to massage him with a practiced thoroughness until he thought the head would surely erupt.

And then, suddenly, with his finger kneading the resilient flesh of her magnificent tits and his cock jerking almost out of control, the full impact of what he was doing struck Jack's mind like a mailed fist.

My God! he thought wildly. No, this is wrong, all wrong, I'm a married man, a happily married man... this is wrong, it's sick, Jesus... what would Adie say? What would she say if she could see what was happening right now, my hand on another woman's breast and that woman's hand stroking and rubbing my cock... I can't go through with it, I just can't.

The guilt was so strong within him that he wrenched violently away from Sue, pulling his mouth from her, turning his body so that her hand left his bulging lap. His face was flushed a brilliant crimson - partially from shame and partially from his intense arousal. He averted his eyes, looking at the far wall, breathing deeply, raggedly.

"What's the matter, lover?" Sue asked casually beside him, and then, with full feminine perception: "You're having an attack of conscience, aren't you? You're thinking about your wife."

"Y-yes," Jack managed to answer. "What... what are we doing... what we were leading up to... Christ Sue, it was crazy, it was all wrong."

"Was it?" she asked.

"Yes... of course..."

"I don't think so," she said.

"Yes... yes."

"You want to fuck me as much as I want you to fuck me," she teased in that droning voice of her. "you know it and I know it. So why pretend any different, Jack?"

"Jesus, Sue!"

"It's purely a physical matter." she continued. "You want to get into my soft, wet pussy, and I want your big cock inside me. That's all," her lewd words floated across to his mind.

"I... I Iove my wife."

"Sure you do. And I love my husband. But that doesn't have anything to do with us, with here and now, with fucking."

No, no I don't want to hear any more! Jack thought with gathering panic. It's wrong, it's wrong, but what she says is true in some ways, you don't have to love a woman to want to fuck her... but no, damn it, no, I can't do it!

He jumped up from the couch, standing with his back to Sue, staring at the wall again. His heart hammered violently in his chest, and he was aware that his prick was still granite-hard in his pants, that it was still seeping hot droplets of lubrication. But he had to compose himself, find a way to get Sue to leave, or better yet to leave himself, to get far, far away from her and to hell with the goddamned novel...

Sue's voice whispered huskily behind him, "Jack, lover."

He turned, gathering his courage to say what had to be said, but when he saw her the words froze in his throat. His mouth hinged open, and his eyes seemed to bulge goiter-like.

She stood before him completely nude.

She had unhooked the halter and stepped out of the brief shorts; the articles of clothing made a puddle of brilliantine color on the bare floor at her feet. She stood with her legs spread wide apart, her head and shoulders pulled back, her hands knuckled provocatively on her proud, bronzed hips. She was smiling at him with her mouth parted, her teeth slightly bared, the tip of her wet, pink tongue showing. The wet, petal-like, hair-lined lips of her vagina were presented to his eyes like an Aztec virgin on a sacrificial altar, waiting for a huge, plunging weapon to stab into her. The brown triangular bush of her pubic triangle glistened lewdly in the pale afternoon light. Her high, perfectly rounded breasts, startling alabaster white against the deep tan of her other parts, jutted out like twin, inviting ruby- crested mountain peaks, waiting to be climbed, asking to be conquered. Her legs, so long, so slender, so satiny smooth- looking at their inner thighs, were moist with the flowing juices of her passion-flowered cuntal mouth.

"Well, lover?" she asked "Do you like what you see?"

"Sue..." Her name choked past his swollen throat, but that was all. He couldn't say anything else. He could only stare at her, at her loveliness, at her completely lewd, wanton pose - and his cock began its maddening pulsations again in his pants.

Slowly, slowly, Sue lifted her hands, her eyes fastened on his, and began to slide her palms up and down, up and down, along her silky sides from the outer swells of her breasts to her flanks. Then she cupped her tits, kneading them lightly, pushing them out toward him as if presenting him with two forbidden but delicious gifts of flesh. Then her hands were stroking her belly, moving down ever so slowly until the tips of her pink-tinted nails were just touching the golden brown fleece of her pubic triangle. She held that pose for a long moment, thumbs pressing against her slender, sculptured sides, fingers splayed across her belly. Jack stood as if transfixed, unable to move, unable to speak, captured totally and completely by the strange fascinating allure of this woman before him, the absolute lustful sexuality of the scene he was witnessing. His penis seemed to be screaming with his ever- increasing arousal.

Slowly, Sue's hands began to move again, the fingertips dipping lower through her soft downy pubic hair, blazing a path toward the glistening pink slit between her legs. When she reached it, she placed the thumb and forefinger of her left hand on either side of the soft, glistening lips and spread them slowly, slowly, apart, revealing the trembling pink bud of her erect clitoris to Jack's lust-ridden gaze. With her right forefinger, then, she traced down, down, until the tip came in contact with the miniature phallus. She began to stroke it, titillating it back and forth, round and round, sending more rivulets of her lubrication trailing down her inner thighs. And while she stroked her clit, rubbing her finger in madening cadence along the gaping crevice of her wet, pink cunt, she began to talk to him in her droning, mesmeric voice.