Flee The Night

CHAPTER ONE "Can't I wait upstairs? It's not as if I'm a thief, I'm related to him. And I haven't anywhere to go." "Sorry, that's not permitted. Besides, we've only passkeys to some of the apartments." Joyce Kelly sighed her regret. She waited for a break in traffic and rushed across the wide street. Men arrested by her striking good looks stared, others whistled. Her athletic body was provocative and invited comments. She was tall, about five-feet-nine, perhaps a shade too voluptuous with the great plump mounds of her breasts straining against the confines of her black sweater, but there was not an ounce of surplus fat on her. Her waist was slim, her stomach flat, her legs long, smooth and tan. Although she was only twenty, Joyce had the sultry expression of an older and sensuous woman. Her face, strikingly beautiful, was filled, in with dark-lashed green eyes, a straight, tip-tilted nose and a rather full and sulky mouth. Her streaky blonde hair, like tangled silk, tumbled about her shoulders; and as she walked rapidly into the cocktail lounge it spread out like a suddenly opened fan. The place was dimly lit and it took several seconds for her eyes to become accustomed to the gloom. At this time of evening it was only a quarter filled, yet the drinkers watched her as she headed for a booth. Her fantastically-structured body was a miracle of femininity. Joyce feigned indifference. A few of the men ventured comments, but she kept her eyes front. She was aware of the effect created by the tight black skirt and wished she could quell the rhythmic grind of her overripe buttocks and the bounce of her breasts. The booth she chose was high, commanding a view of the street beyond. She ordered black coffee, ignoring the waiter's suggestion that she take liquor as everything in this Park Avenue lounge started at one dollar. "No, just black coffee!" She spread her raincoat along the seat and brought out her cigarettes. Someone fed coins into the juke, and as music surged through the place a man stepped up to her. He was young but balding, looking like a Madison Avenue reject in his slope-shouldered Ivy League suit and regimental tie. "Need company?" Joyce fanned his whisky breath from her face. "If you don't leave me alone I'll ask for help from the management. If that doesn't work I'll call a cop." The man whistled. "Tough as nails. Just shows how damned deceiving looks are." He went back to the bar. With a half-hour the sky changed colors and street lamps came on. She checked her watch and left the lounge, taking up position on the corner facing the apartment building. She stood there, impatiently shifting the weight of her lush body from one leg to the other, waiting for the one man in the world who could help her, Alan Graham. After a while it became chilly. A wind tore down the street and she turned up the collar of her raincoat. Passing couples looked at her. A sports convertible pulled up for a light and a lad with a crew cut shouted for her to join him for a wild ride. Joyce ignored him; she was concentrating on the huge, modernistic dwelling. Presently, her heart skipped a beat. An old Porsche had drawn up and a tall man, accompanied by a woman in a woolen suit, got out. Under the lamplights Alan Graham looked young, much younger than the last time she had seen him. She hesitated, curbing an impulse to dash across the street and confront him. She stepped into the gutter and a car shot by. The driver hammered on his horn and Joyce leaped back with a yelp of surprise. She watched the receding taillights; the couple had gone. She returned to her position on the corner, feeling very lonely. This feeling was aided by the moan of a boat whistle from the nearby East River. Alan opened the door of his apartment and stood aside, allowing Jacqueline Tenner to enter first. She sauntered in as if she was paying the rent on the place, switched on the ceiling lights and removed her jacket. She stepped before the foyer mirror and examined herself, patting her carefully set dark brown hair and checking to see if the mascara on her wide blue eyes was smudged. He watched her, shaking his head, thinking that she really loved herself. Wordlessly, he stepped over to a battered walnut sideboard and mixed two highballs. "Easy on the soda, darling." "Always easy on everything, especially you." "Not always." She smiled enigmatically and slipped into his arms, pressing her big, sinuous body against his and rotating her pelvis rapidly. "Hey, cut that out." Whisky sloshed out of the glasses and dribbled down Alan's hand. Jacqueline pecked at his lips and took her drink into the bathroom. He looked after her then shook his head and crossed over to the windows. He felt lost and empty; in no mood for her. She originally came from a small town in Iowa and for four years had worked as a librarian. She was twenty-six, ten years younger than he and as tall as his six feet in high heels. As he sipped his drink Alan admitted that she was a stunning brunette, with enormous, melon-shaped breasts; but she was getting fat. Her waist was no longer slender, her hips and thighs were too padded with flesh and her legs, while long, were heavy. He wasn't in love with her, but had promised to marry her and there was no one else in sight worth settling down with. Then, too, his physical needs for her had increased, more so recently, since her moral barriers had weakened. On former occasions he could expect only kisses, but now she allowed him to fondle and explore the more intimate areas of her large, womanly body. He would knead the big breasts and stroke the round buttocks until his insistent desires willed him to attack her. Despite his pleas she managed to hold off, whispering in that breathless way of hers to wait, until they were married. "Alan!" The bathroom door edged open and a triangle of light knifed into the darkness. Jacqueline emerged, taking long pulls at her drink. She padded out barefoot and naked except for an old cotton robe loosely belted about her middle. The game was starting. Wearily, he tightened the Venetian blinds and switched off the ceiling lights in favor of a small table lamp. He slipped out of his jacket, removed his tie and started to unbutton his shirt. "No, darling, not all the way." "But what the hell, you're naked!" "Not the both of us, darling, you promised. I might become too aroused." "Then what the hell you think happens to me?" "Well there's satisfaction of a sort for you, and making you happy pleases me. Later, after we're married you can satisfy me physically too." She threw back her head and tossed off the dregs of her drink. Her long brown hair had been loosened and he toyed with it, wrapping thick strands about his fingers. "You're a nut, do you know that?" "I'm human, too, darling, but we've got to wait." "Damn it to hell! This business of necking every night and getting so damned hot and bothered is pointless. You've got me so tortured that I just can't sleep. What's wrong? You'll still be able to face the world knowing the guy you gave your virginity to is the one you married. You're worse than a damned tease." "Oh, you're upset, darling." She tugged the unfinished drink out of his hand. "Let me help you. I'll comfort you and then you won't be angry with me." "No! I'm finished' with that routine. Get your clothes back on because I'm leaving now to go out and find myself a whore." He contemplated the huge spheres with their pointed and erotic tips. "I'm tired of your damned nonsense." She brushed strands of hair from her forehead and her breasts spilled out of the robe, rising buoyantly, blinding white. "Darling, don't say such things." Alan, aroused by her nudity, reached for her. His hands slid into the negligee and traveled over her wide hips. She gasped for breath-like attired swimmer and in the near darkness her blue eyes took on a strange light. For a few seconds she fought to keep her face away-from his. Suddenly, she ceased struggling, melting like warm butter as their mouths fastened together. Her fingers eagerly parted his shirt and gripped his naked, hard back. "Jacqueline, you do want me." "Oh, darling, darling, I do ... but ... " "But, hell." It was a chance not to be missed and he decided to take her. He pinioned her against the wall and her vibrant, lithe body began to pulse with passion. Her flesh became a mass of ripples as she brought every muscle into play. His blood raced, and when he caressed the gigantic mounds she abandoned herself and ground her thighs against him in a frenzy. "Oh, darling, give me a moment ... to catch my breath ... I feel ... so wild!" She untied the belt, exposing herself, all naked and glorious. Alan felt the quick spurt of desire yet he hesitated, not wanting to take her in this position. He preferred a bed, but in the few minutes it would take to get her there she might cool off. It was best to take full advantage of her offerings now. She pressed her rump against the wall, spread her legs apart and balanced her breasts on his chest. Bracing himself, he squeezed the warm flesh gently, feeling each sphere grow firm and taut in his cupped hands. They were almost of abnormal size, sagging slightly because of their weight, and when his tongue lashed them Jacqueline's head went back, her eyes closed and she gasped, "oh, darling ... my darling!" One arm coiled around his neck and the other slid down, the hand fumbling frantically with his clothes. As she held him, there was a roaring in his head. He dug his fingers into the plump, curving thighs and pressed forward. She quivered, uttered a soft cry and just as he sought to fit himself to her, broke free. "You teasing tramp!" She pivoted on her bare feet and raced into the bathroom, the well-upholstered cheeks of her bottom undulating with her every step. Aching from anticipation he stifled a moan and reached for his drink. What a lousy b***h! If she thought he would marry her she had another think coming! Oh, brother! He grimaced. What a tramp! His hands were still warm from the heat of her body. And along his back a hundred nerves throbbed from her biting fingernails. Tonight, she had been unable to control her passion and had almost yielded. Marriage, he snorted. That's the trouble with women. It's strictly a s****l hunger and she refuses to recognize it as such. Why the hell must she tote out the ball and chain and keep him enslaved for life. Hell,.-she should know by now that he didn't love her. He shoved aside the bathroom door. The lights above revealed the satiny sheen of her ripe body. Jacqueline, aware of his scrutiny, stepped into her panties. Humming to herself she pulled her woolen skirt down over her rounded thighs and too-wide, slightly fat buttocks. "You're not sore, are you, darling?" "Who, me? Are you joking? Why, hell, I'm positively overjoyed!" "You needn't be sarcastic." Her breasts bounced as she fitted them into the cups of the lacey brassiere. "I wanted to, darling, but I just couldn't." He folded his arms over his chest and contemplated her. She was a healthy-looking, full-lipped girl. Her nose was arched, with wide nostrils and her eyes were blue and wide-set. Never considered beautiful by other women, probably due to her voluptuous proportions, she was nevertheless a handsome woman. Now, at twenty-six, she was at the peak of her physical beauty. Within a few years, time and more fat would attack that body. Maybe she was so aware of this, he thought, that she was frantic to make this relationship a permanent one. He handed her the jacket to her suit. "Drop in again when you're in a teasing mood. Nothing I enjoy more than being worked up."