Woodenly, Nancy replied, 'All right. Then I'll tour the units.'
She went outside, rubber-legged, treading on wheels. At the edge of the pool she wobbled to a halt. Surprisingly, her legs did not tumble her into the water.
'Some pool!' Buddy said, and she heard the splat of his body striking the surface, saw the splash, then water churned by his kicking feet. His wake diminished as he left the lighted section of the pool.
Was he a reincarnation of Freddy, who used to mow the lawn, and once in the basement stuck it into her standing against the washing machine? Or of Jack, who had been tightly clamped between her thighs, his prong buried in her cunt, that time her husband came home and stood gape-mouthed in the doorway?
Buddy had all the deliciously dangerous qualities – golden hair and monstrous genitals. His smile was charmingly shy but his gaze bold. Nancy had felt it peel her dress away and burn her breasts.
She had shut her eyes, teetering on the edge of the pool. She opened her eyes and through tears saw Buddy swimming slowly toward her. His gaze raked up her legs and left them wilting. She knew he could see through her dress. She was silhouetted against the lobby lights. His stare was riveted on her soggy panties.
Her lawyer had said, 'Don't even be seen talking to a man! If your husband can hang an adultery charge on you, it's good-bye alimony.'
But Buddy was not a man. He was an impish wraith who had pursued her since she refused Wally Beaver so many years ago. He was floating below her and the pool lights showed his stiff prong stretching the transparent swim trunks.
He said, 'Come on in, the water's fine.'
Nancy's legs would no longer support her. She dropped down, sitting on the pool edge.
As she sat she felt the wetness in her panties spread over her behind. Was that oily sex lubricant seeping through her dress? Why was she sliding off the rim of the pool? Her feet were in the water and she flopped into Buddy's arms.
He was grinning at her.
He said, 'I'll race you to the end of the pool.'
His warm grin dispersed that terrible experience in her past.
She said, 'You silly thing, Buddy! I can't race wearing a dress and shoes. You're being crazy.'
Well, it was all crazy, standing fully dressed in the pool, facing a grinning boy-God, a Pan with a stiff prong.
She realized now that when she slid into the pool she had peeled off the outer layers that formed Nancy Forbes, night manager of the Sunland Motel, revealing her true self.
Laughing, she threw herself flat on the water's surface and began swimming beside the boy-God. She lost a sandal and kicked the other one off. Flailing at the water, stroking long and hard overhand, she wrenched at her dress. A breast squeezed out of the neckline. She was in the dark section of the pool, then, turning to face Buddy. He suddenly hooked an arm around her. She was kissing him, yes, feeling his hard tongue push hers aside. She sucked with fluttering lips.
After a moment she turned her head away, smiling coyly back at him. Her bared breast brushed against his hot chest. Her nipple had grown hard. And below, his stiff erection prodded her.
She asked him, 'How old am I, Buddy?'
'Twenty-five? Twenty-six?'
'Wrong, silly. I'm only fifteen and don't you forget it.' She kissed his throat. Yes, she had shed Nancy Forbes. She was the Nancy Barthals of long ago.
Pockets of air floated her skirt above her waist. Looking down she saw Buddy's trunks angled out by the stiffness of his penis, and, dim in this poor light, the black splotch of her pubic hair showing through her white panties. She was exposed to his view and she did not care. Nothing mattered now.
Buddy's hand cupped her exposed breast. He whispered, 'You sure have big titties, Nancy.'
She giggled, 'For a girl of fifteen, yes.'
Even in those days she had been large-breasted. But such a prude. What hell to have had protruding breasts advertising her maturity, but to be so wrenchingly afraid.
The heat of his hand on her breast made the nipple push out against his palm. It tinged deliciously. She saw his other hand, underwater, trace the line of her hip, caress her thigh, then rise between her legs. At eighteen she would have screamed. At her new eighteen she sighed with pleasure as his palm cupped her pussy. The hand stroked her. She spread her legs before his touch.
Then she reached down, found his slick leg and the swimsuit. She fingered the pouch, lifting it. The escaping cock sprang into her hand.
She gripped the fat root of it. The head touched her arm, seemingly halfway up to her elbow.
She had lost all sense of equilibrium. They were floating now, she clinging to the root of his cock, supported by the hand between her legs, given stability by the one holding her breast.
They drifted under the night sky, alone on a sea of forgetfulness, two people exploring sex on a summer night.
Perfection came when he tugged aside her panties and fingered her split.
Like that they drifted under the moon wheeling through the sky.
CHAPTER FIVE
In the women's section of the employees' lounge, Buddy and Nancy shared a towel. Drying his face, he looked over the towel at her. She was rubbing the other end across her chin, smiling at him. Her eyes twinkled in the near-darkness.
She had called herself fifteen and now she seemed it, full of giggles and roguish lifts of her eyebrows, smiles popping like bubbles, coltish tosses of her head.
Something had happened out at the pool. This could not be the austere woman who managed the motel, who had glared so sternly at him when he entered.
He drew the towel to him. She held on, smiling arid turning her head as she neared his lips. Her eyes closed. Her tongue and lips seemed to flutter against his. Her mouth was sweet and the nibbling of her lips a dainty invitation to his tongue. He thrust it in, felt hers coil and lash about it.
His hands moved to her shoulders. She palmed his chest. Their kiss lost traction. His lips slipped from her mouth to her cheek. Nancy's wet dress contacted his hot flesh. Her right breast still hung out of the neckline, a plump orb melting into him except for the hard, boring nipple.
He savored the feel of that and the warm smell of her. Her perfume was all but washed away, the remnants smothered by the musky female odor rising from her crotch.
Buddy loved this would-be teenager. The thought that Sharon meant to take her job hurt him. He knew that Sharon had put the two of them together for a purpose. Well, he wouldn't let her harm Nancy.
She whispered, 'This dress feels chill.'
He unzipped the back. She turned coyly from him to skin out of the wet garment. He studied the lovely curve of her back, her narrow waist, then the big white buttocks stretching her panties.
Rid of the dress, she switched back to him, hiding her breasts against his chest.
She whispered, 'Buddy, I'm so happy!'
He closed his arms protectively about her. He felt overcome by tenderness. Oh, he wanted to screw her, all right. His cock burned as it stretched out and jabbed her belly. But that seemed less important than rubbing his cheek on hers, kissing her ear, and now smiling into her eyes.
He said, 'I've never had a girl, I mean really a girl of my own, like she's mine because she wants to be.'
'I want to be your girl, Buddy.'
He kissed her. She sucked softly at his tonguetip. Then she said, 'I hated having to grow up. My first boy – Wally was his name – he scared me. At fifteen, I wasn't ready. Still, I got mated eventually. Then my husband said I should be more mature, serious and all that. So I am. I manage the motel as well as a man could, Bud says. But that isn't me. I'm right here. Buddy's girl.'
