Bolan politely but firmly pushed her away. 'I'm sorry,' he said quietly.
She gazed at him for a moment, reading the message of his eyes. Her own eyes flashed, then, and she asked, 'Who do you think you're kidding?' Her nostrils were flaring angrily. 'That's a roaring monster you've got there and you're just dying to bury it in me!'
'You are absolutely right,' he replied agreeably.
The girl gave a short, nervous laugh, wriggled her hips, and threw a vicious bump in his direction. 'Picture it buried in
'I got the picture,' Bolan said. He grinned feebly. 'Take it easy, blondie. This may be the place, but it just isn't the time. Now you haul that hot ass away from here and leave a working man alone.'
Her eyes softened and she gazed at him with new respect. She said, 'Well-l-l...' in a voice tinged with indecision, then simply smiled at him.
An electronic squeal and then a hum broke the silence, followed swiftly by the voice of Leo Turrin, obviously issuing from a concealed speaker somewhere in the clubroom. 'Okay, Sarge,' it said. 'Another point for you. Hey, what are you? A goddamn iron man? Huh? I wonder if
'I hear you, Leo,' Bolan said softly. He was looking for the speaker.
'Hey, it's closed-circuit TV. I'll show it to you later. Mitzi-you take good care of my friend-you hear me?'
The girl was smiling good-humoredly. 'Sure, I hear you, Leo,' she replied.
'And that makes another piece you owe me on the house!' He laughed uproariously. The speaker squealed, then was silent.
'See what your devotion to duty cost me?' the blonde said, now smiling ruefully at Bolan. She snared one of his hands and tugged at him. 'Well, c'mon, let's go find some place to bury that bone. Or are you still saying it's not the time?'
'It's the time,' Bolan agreed, moving in-tow toward the carpeted stairway. Bolan the goddamn iron man knew very well he could pass the next test-over, and over, and over again. He followed the blonde seductress up the curving sweep of stairs, along a wide, beautifully decorated hall, and into a large bedroom. It was a sumptuous affair, complete with canopied bed, deep carpeting, and lavish furnishings. Bolan emitted a soft whistle.
'Nice, eh,' the blonde said, turning to him with a warm smile. Her gaze angled down to his loins, one hand moving spontaneously with the eyes. 'What's your druthers?' she asked, lashes lowering demurely.
'What?' Bolan said, one hand toying with a soft shoulder.
'Do you prefer it sitting, standing, laying down, all-fours, belly-to-belly, or oral-genital?'
Bolan merely grinned, pushed her an arm's length away, and carefully untied the bow at her hips, thoughtfully disentangled the stole from the warm flesh of the thighs, drew it over her head, and dropped it to the floor, then stood gazing at her, one hand raised contemplatively to his chin. She smiled and did a slow pirouette, arms raised gracefully, concluding with a repetition of the bump-and-grind she had shown him downstairs.
'Don't tell me,' he said, grinning, '-I'll bet you were on the stage.'
She gave a short laugh, lowering her arms and standing somewhat awkwardly, perhaps even self-consciously. Bolan had taken command; this was obvious. She laughed again, a bit nervously, turned and strolled toward the bed, hesitating momentarily to gaze at him over her shoulder, then studiously folded back the bedcovers and crawled onto the luxury of silken sheets, plumping a pillow beneath her head and rolling languidly onto one side and staring at her companion of the boudoir. Bolan was undressing. She watched him as he stripped, her eyes following each flexure of the manly frame. He carefully draped his clothing over the back of a chair, stalked over to the bed, and stared down at her with a penetrating gaze, his lips set in a half-smile.
She smiled back at him and patted the bed beside her.
Bolan seized the patting hand and dragged her off the bed. She stumbled to her feet, spluttering. 'You like to throw it,' he said. 'So throw it'
'Aw look, I was just-'
'Throw it!'
She threw it, repeatedly, grinding and tossing her hips in a pretty fair facsimile of a burlesque queen, and obviously tiring fast. Bolan was standing back, hands on hips, watching her labors. Presently she said, 'Is this how you get your kicks or is this a grudge fight?' She had come to a panting halt, glaring at Bolan with a despairing light in her eyes. He laughed and folded her into a tight embrace, his flesh all but shrieking under the duress of the delightful head-to-toe contact
'Let's just say that you passed
She giggled and relaxed against him. 'If I have a choice, I'll take it flat on my back and breathing slow.' 'Okay,' he said agreeably, '-at least we've got the display-window starch out of you.'
'What?' She had fallen back onto the bed, tiredly drawing her legs onto the edge.
'All that posturing and posing,' Bolan explained. 'You put that on for all your callers?' 'I never get any complaints,' she assured him. He dropped his knees to the floor and encircled the lush female body with an arm, raking his lips across the torso, pausing momentarily at the breasts, then onto the throat and lingering on the pouting lips. 'This is more like it,' she said a moment later, sighing and running hands along his back. He doubled one of her legs and drew it forward, kissed the knee, kneading the leg and thigh with both hands.
'You, uh, like legs?' she asked, a new light beginning in the depths of her eyes. 'I like yours,' he told her. 'But probably not in the way you're wondering. I'm just trying to discover where you tick.'
'Hell, I tick all over,' she said quickly. His hands had moved onto her hips, fanning along the heavy cones of firm flesh, and up into the juncture of legs and body. The raised leg jerked involuntarily and she inhaled sharply. He was grinning at her. 'Well, okay, so I tick some places better than others,' she admitted. 'Are you going to, uh, get up here on the bed with me?'
For reply he pushed, pulled, and rolled her over and ran his hands along the back of her, hesitating here and there to probe sensitive spots. The blonde was beginning to puff again. 'Say,' she said, 'say...'
'Yeah?'
She lunged about and flung her arms about his neck, mouth eagerly seeking his. He went onto the bed then and they lay in tight embrace, limbs intertwined, mouths joined, her hips moving rhythmically against him.
He withdrew from the urgency of her mouth and said, 'Now, that's the proper movement for the bed set'
'Okay, Professor,' she puffed, '-on with the lecture.' Her mouth again grafted onto his, the heavy globes of breasts worrying frantically against his chest. Both hands came down off his neck and moved between them, searching, grasping.
He evaded her, saying, 'I haven't seen your steam yet.'
'God, God-how much steam you want a girl to have? I'm going nuts all over.'
He rolled to the other side of her, carrying her over atop him, lifting her high, head beneath her chin, and buried his mouth in the luxurious flesh. She gasped and flopped, hammering at him with her hips, whining, entreating. Some moments later he pushed her onto her back and rolled off the bed to stand beside it and gaze down at her. Her knees and arms lifted together and her eyes were pleading. 'Please,' she moaned, 'please...'
Bolan smiled approvingly, murmured, 'Now you're a woman,' and fell onto her.
She arched up to meet him, capturing him in a death-grip with all four limbs. 'Yes, yes, yes,' she panted, then her midsection exploded in a convulsive grasping, and it was not until some moments later that she was able to complete the statement. 'I am a woman,' she declared languidly.
'Hell, don't I know it,' Bolan said tiredly.
All tests were A-OK.
BOOK TWO:
