Chapter 1

She was a passionate tigress ... and she wanted me!

"I'd like to try out my topless act for you, Lincoln," she murmured, her fingertips brushing the insides of my thighs enticingly.

Her hips swayed and moved sensually while her hand began unzipping her blouse. Then she was slipping out of it — and my breath caught in my throat.

Honey was topless, except for the sheer black bra that hardly contained her golden breasts. The rigid nipples threatening to break through the gauzy material.

Suddenly she reached behind and unhooked the garment letting it drift to the floor as her magnificent caramel-colored orbs sprang forth. Slowly, her hands came up to cup and stroke them, causing the puckered nipples to jut out even further.

Her glance was fixed on my face as she began to push the half slip down over her flaring hips. Thrusting her femininity towards me with faster and faster bumps, she moved just within' my reach. And I suddenly realized that the sensuality of the dance had actually gotten to her. She wasn't acting anymore!

"Lincoln," she moaned, offering herself to me completely, "I need to be loved — now!"

My name is Lincoln Ice. After studying for more years than I cared to remember, I'd finally passed the Bar exam. In fact, only this week I'd been sworn in. Now I was a practicing attorney — without any clients!

It was Friday afternoon and raining in Los Angeles. While I waited for Suzy to arrive I stared out the window of my apartment and watched the raindrops hammering dents in the sheet of water that covered the streets. It was a good day for auto accidents. With the rain and the slick streets and the upcoming weekend, there would be a couple of hundred auto accidents in Los Angeles County alone. And a couple of thousand bodily injury suits would be filed.

I felt like a guy with only a spoon instead of a shovel should it ever start to rain silver dollars. I had a Law degree but my shingle wasn't up yet, and I hadn't even connected with any law firm.

Then I heard the door opening behind me, and I saw Suzy. Whenever Suzy was around I forgot all about my problems. I thought only of joy. Especially sex.

"Thank goodness, it's Friday," Suzy said.

Her dark eyes appraised me hungrily, as though I were the only man in the world who could give her what she needed. That look alone always made me eager to prove it.

"You don't know how I've been waiting — for Friday, and you," I said.

"I wanted to finish my packing first." She pulled the little green scarf away from her chestnut curls and then shook her head, like a filly that hates the rain.

By that time I could smell the dampness of her hair and her perfume while I was helping her with the raincoat. A moment later she was moving over in front of the fireplace, lovely in her boots, miniskirt, and sweater.

Suzy said, "I need you to warm me up, Link." She was embracing herself as her hands rubbed her arms.

"That's my girl," I said.

Suzy really was my girl. She was also a model. She made a lot of money whenever she worked. She was not the skinny type of model that you see in the women's magazines. Definitely not skinny. She had all the wonderful curves and lines, and her chest was bountiful. Suzy modeled hosiery. She had the greatest pair' of legs in the world; and she knew how to use them.

In a couple of hours she was leaving on her vacation. She had her jet ticket, her reservations, and apparently she had her bags packed. The only thing she didn't have was a way to take me with her.

We'd discussed it briefly yesterday morning when she'd telephoned. "I'm beginning to miss you already, Link," she'd murmured. "What's a sex-starved girl to do?"

"Lay in a supply before you leave," I'd told her.

"Oh, Link —" after a short pause she'd added, "It might help at that. At least it would be worth a try."

"Let's try it, Suzy."

"All right I'll come to your place. Mine's a terrible mess. Right after lunch I'll be there."

Now as my hands touched her shoulders she slid her arms around my neck and snuggled against me. I could feel her shivering. But she didn't feel cold to me or against me.

I said, "I hope that's passion, and not a touch of the flu."

"It is," she said softly.

I could feel her coming up on tiptoe as she offered her mouth to me. I let her come up, all the way up; because it gave her an opportunity to rub herself a bit more against the front of me.

"It is — what?" I asked.

My lips touched hers and then she was sinking back down again, rubbing delightfully against me on the return trip, her mouth suctioned to mine, bringing my head down with her.

Whenever Suzy used that rubbing action while we were kissing, she always forgot to breathe! Suddenly she had to pull her lips away from mine.

"It's not the flu — only passion," she purred.

My hands slipped down the small of her back and I was letting them caress her firm and rounded fanny, feeling the heat from her skirt burning my fingertips.

"I can tell," I told her. "You're on fire."

"That's the heat from the fireplace," she said. She was becoming restless, squirming and fidgeting about as though her panties were too tight for her.

I shoved my hand down between us, feeling almost the same degree of heat coming through her skirt in front of her.

"Then how do you explain that, Suzy?" That set her off. She was pinned so tightly against me now that it was almost impossible for me to pull my hand out again. Not that I was really in a hurry to do it.

But Suzy was in a hurry.

"Link!" she said urgently, "I don't have much time!"

Neither time nor tide nor scheduled airlines wait for those having quickies in the afternoon. I knew this so I picked her up in my arms and carried her into the bedroom.

It was a wonderful trip. Somehow the miniskirt had gotten all bunched up and the backs of her bare thighs were rubbing against my bare right forearms. Along with that, her tongue was doing all kinds of wicked things along the sides of my neck and around my ear. Even in it.

When I got to the edge of the bed I simply dropped her onto it. She bounced, at the same time already slipping out of her sweater. I pulled off her boots and crimson socklets. Then I let her finish undressing while I shed my own clothes.

Now she was standing up in the center of the bed with her feet spread apart so that she could balance herself. With her hands cocked on her lush hips, she'd also shoved out her chest.

She was outlined against the undraped window, nine stories up and if someone to the south, maybe at Wilshire, had caught sight of her through binoculars, his eyeballs would have bugged out to smear up the lens.

Everything about her was fantastic, the way it had always been. Her full, hard breasts were puffed up, the nipples stiff and needle sharp and tipped up so much that if she'd have put her head down she could have touched them with her tongue.