Trust me.' She glanced at the clock, her features hardening. 'I have to go now, damn it.'
'Yes…' Suddenly Karen remembered Allen and the coffee date she had mentioned. 'But I wanted you to come to my house! For coffee! Tonight!'
'I wish I could. Tomorrow? Around eight? I'd like to see where you live. Where you sleep and bathe and eat and… and… and I better get out of here before… before I do something right here and now that you would regret. Not me, of course. I could never do anything to you I would regret, not when I love you the way I do.' Pat got to her feet. Her eyes skitted over Karen's face like wet kisses. 'Tomorrow night. Okay?'
'Yes.' Karen started to get up, too.
Pat waved her back into her seat. 'Stay. Have some coffee. Think of me.'
She was a woman, like herself! Karen knew it, yet her body obeyed and thrilled to the masculinity that wasn't really masculine, the love that wasn't normal. 'Tomorrow,' she repeated, unable to manage even a semblance of a smile. It was all too serious, too somber, too wonderful. 'At eight. You remember where I live?'
Pat grinned in the boyish way Karen was coming to know so well. 'Yes, I remember, baby. I couldn't sleep last night either. So I took a walk… and wound up in front of your house. Sleep well, baby.'
Karen watched her walk away. She sat staring at the door long after Pat had vanished through it and on out into the darkness…
Pat tossed her sweat shirt and too-tight jeans on a chair and ran her fingers lazily through her short hair. 'Damn!' she hissed, glaring at the walls resentfully. She could be with Karen now! But she had made this date two days ago, and it was too late to back out now. Besides, she needed the money. She still had time before the trick would arrive – enough to take a shower and – she reached down and ran her fingertips over her long, slim legs – take a fast shave. She took pride in her socially unacceptable vocation. Anything she did, she did well, especially if it had anything to do with sex.
Pat looked at the mirror for a long moment. She liked looking at herself in the nude. That was why she had picked up a three-way mirror in a junk store and stuck it on a dresser near her bed. From the right angle, looking just so, she could see herself and whomever she was with, on the bed. Impulsively, Pat moved her hips forward, keeping her balance precariously. Her body touched its mirror image. She looked down at the contact. The idea was crazy… wonderful… everything felt good when she was in a mood like this. Physical sensation, she thought, that was the answer! It freed the mind and delighted the soul.
Once in the shower, the warm water felt fabulous against her tingling skin. The touch of her own fingers soaping the delicate curves of her body increased the anticipation and fanned the flames within. She rinsed herself off quickly. Dripping, she reached for a towel and vigorously rubbed her lean and beautiful body.
A glance over her shoulder at the image in the full-length mirror on the bathroom door caused her to pause and stare. She turned slowly, the towel still clutched to her breasts and faced the mirror. Her left hand moved automatically to her breast and milked the aching desire from it as her right hand slid smoothly over her hip and thigh. Her fingers danced teasingly around her thighs and stomach, stopping above the triangle of damp hair, waiting for the thrills of anticipation to catch up with her. Then she combed her fingers through the matted hair, and a strange, pleasant crawling sensation itched her body, sending shocks of excitement to her brain.
Pat cupped the damp cove between her legs with her palm and it responded by grinding longingly on her hand. Chills ran up her back as her cool buttocks felt the warmth of her fingers that reached between her legs and pressed into her slit. She squeezed the globes of flesh and toured the crevice with a finger, imagining how the man that was about to arrive would be delighted to poke his finger in the little hole there, getting hotter and hotter as she tried to make him stop. Her imagination took over and it was the trick's finger forcing its way into the tight little tunnel.
Her eyes were fixed on the mirror as she dropped the towel and watched an imaginary man make love to her. She was under its spell. Fantasy, mixed with fact, built her up and coaxed the spark in her cove of passion to a flame – craving more and more, faster and faster. Fleeting thoughts of Karen and Lorna raced through her mind as she concentrated on the panting entrance to her sex, her fingers playing tag now with its longing lips.
'See, Karen? Don't my cunt-lips feel moist and delicious?' Pat whispered, keeping her eyes on the reflected image in the mirror as a hand – her own – toyed with the sensitive, pink lips. 'They're moist and hot for you my love. Just the sight of you causes my juices to flow freely. And… and… I can feel your juices flowing too, baby. Does the touch of my finger on your sweet-smelling cunt excite you? Mmmmmm… You stick your finger into my aching cunt, while I examine yours.'
Excitement and joy began to ooze from Pat's creaming meat with each delicately timed invasion and withdrawal of the experienced digit. One hand roamed the smooth skin from hard, quivering nipples to a gentle exploration in and around her buttocks, while the other remained between her legs to probe and delight. It seemed so real – Karen was fingering her pussy, while she played with Karen's; the free hand belonged to Lorna, sometimes, and sometimes it was the man about to arrive.
'Nnnngggghhhh… You, you are, sooo beautiful, Karen. And… and I told you I would bring delicious new thrills to your body. I can feel your cunt building to a wonderful, delicious climax, baby. Mmmmmm… finger me! Faster, my pet… faster. Your beauty is making me come! Finger-fuck me faster… more… more… MORE!'
Pat's voice rose as her body climbed to the peak of excitement. Her hands moved feverishly, one squeezing harder and harder on her breast, as the other savagely poked the full length of its middle finger in and out of her slit.
'Come, Karen! COME! I want to feel you come on my finger, baby. There, there! Feel me coming on yours? So delicious… so hot… so gooooood! AHHHHHH!'
Pat slowly removed her finger from the depths of her sopping wet slit and smiled at herself in the mirror. The little game was just what she needed, she thought, to put herself in the right mood for a man. Not that she didn't enjoy a man. Pat just hated men. But there were times times even with a man… Perhaps, she told herself with renewed enthusiasm, this man would be one of those times!
CHAPTER SIX
The man at the threshold looked nervous and unsure of himself. 'Are you Pat?' he asked awkwardly, his beefy face darkening perceptively.
The girl smiled. 'Sure. Come on in.' She turned and moved back into the room. She heard him follow but didn't turn around. She knew the man was surprised. They all were. Pat lived differently from the way men expected a seventy-five-dollar-a-throw prostitute to live. Her cheap apartment was unusual, and so was her failure to appear at the door in the standard uniform of the trade – a sexy negligee. All she had on was a stiffly ironed man's white skirt.
'Mike tell you how much?' Pat asked. She knew girl in her price range was supposed to be more subtle – only a ten-dollar number on Washington Avenue was this direct. But Pat didn't care. She made up for the niceties she neglected now, late; in hot merchandise.
'Seventy-five, right? That's a lot of money.' The man's pig eyes paused at the bulging tops of the girls breasts, then hurried down to where the shirttails clung together between her thighs. 'But you just might be worth it.'
'Oh, honey, am I!' Pat took the money and crossed the room with it. She counted carefully as she put the crisp bills in the beat-up dresser. She unbuttoned rapidly as she moved to the bed. The man got out of his sport coat and laid it on the couch on the other side of the room. He watched her undo the last button. His own hands began to move as quickly over his shirt and trousers.
Pat turned her back to the man as she wriggled her shoulders, encouraging the shirt to fall away from her brown, evenly tanned body. She could feel his greedy eyes stabbing into her back, heard the quick intake of his breathing when the shirt slid over her firm, globular rump. He let his shoes fall to the carpet with a dull thud.
She turned slowly, allowing him a long chance to see and appreciate her unusual beauty. She knew how the
