shook like jello. Her hole was so tight that it pulled in and out with John's cock like a pale membrane that had been grafted to it. It reminded Sean of the head of a drum. He thought it had to hurt, being so tight, but Joanna got into John's rhythm and jabbed back more savagely at him than he jabbed forward at her. With every stroke she snapped her hips down to catch her clit hard on his finger.
The Princess started humming. The high, mellow sound undulated with the two fucking bodies. Virginia took it up.
It was like magic. It seemed to unite the two with everyone in the room. In spite of themselves-they thought it was a little corny; it sounded like Alan Ginsberg doing his 'om' number-Sean and Andrea and eventually Joe joined in. It was obviously getting to John and Joanna. Its tempo picked up with theirs. It was music to fuck by. It was great.
Faster and faster, harder and harder they went, with the water sloshing in tidal waves in the bed, John grunting, Joanna panting and gasping.
Joanna came once with a wild wiggling of her ass. John almost went off but he held himself back like a pro.
They fucked on for a while, perspiration starting to gather on their brows, Joanna's hair tossing crazily. She came again, this time jittering up and down on John's finger like a jackrabbit. John was really getting off on the feeling of his thighs butting up against her ass cheeks and he would have gone on in that position till the end but finally Joanna slumped down onto her stomach. They rested for a second and then, with some contortions to keep him from coming out of her, she switched over to her back. 'Okay, baby. Climax time.' Without warning she pressed up into him hard, sucked away, pressed up again, arching her back and letting the waves in the bed help her move in tremendously long strokes.
'Jesus, am I deep,' John breathed in amazement. 'I feel like it's going to come out your mouth.'
Joanna tossed her head back and forth and that lost look came into her eyes as John battered down into her. 'Hold it right there, right there… ' she chanted, 'that's it, that's perfect, that's going to get it… right on the money… okay, baby, any time… I'll be right there… just fuck me like that… '
'Agh! Agh!' John gulped for breath. His skin flushed and he galloped at a steady pace. 'Agh! Agh! AGH!'
One mighty thrust and Joanna collapsed under him and went completely limp. She was tossing on the end of his cock like a rag doll, feeling the come shoot deep into her, feeling the ecstatic explosion from far away and from deep in her insides, sucking it up, getting every last twitch, bearing his weight easily as it all bore down on that one point, feeling his skin flash hot, getting those never-ending jolts from the pleasure-point of her clit and turning them into squeezings and caresses in her innermost depths.
As they finished and the tempo of the mad dash slowly subsided, welcome echoes of the jolts came back again. There were echoes and echoes and echoes. It was many minutes before John's twitching stopped and she felt completely done.
It wasn't until half an hour later than Sean finally began to pack.
Things had subsided. Virginia tried to help him with his typewriter and manuscripts but she was so inept that she was finally banished to the bed where she sat talking to Andrea and John. Joanna was making coffee in the kitchen and Joe, true to his cook's instincts, was cleaning everything that would go bad out of the refrigerator. Suddenly Andrea burst out with, 'I'm so stupid! Why didn't I think of this before? You guys should go with us! John and Joanna! It would be a gas! The Guru says we've got a five-room suite!'
John reflected a minute. 'Hell, the theatre's just closed down for a month of renovations. I should be here, but I don't have to be. I've got two weeks' vacation coming, and the owner'd probably be happy not to have to pay me for the third.' He looked at Joanna. 'Can you make it?'
'I don't know,' she said. 'I've heard some crazy things about this Guru Baalow Nee. There's an article about this cruise in the paper I was reading.'
'That's not the question. The question is-can you make it in terms of your job?'
'Oh yeah, sure, that's no sweat. I was going to transfer from Columbia Presbyterian to St. Luke's in three days anyhow. I could just tell everybody I'm leaving early and taking three weeks in between. They might not like it, but nurses are scarce enough that St. Luke's isn't going to squalk too much. They can't afford to. Hell, I could tell them my dog died. Or the subway goes the wrong way. Or something.'
'What's in that article?' Sean asked curiously.
Joanna fished the paper out, leafed through to the fifth page, and read. 'Guru's Cruise Seeks What Kind of Enlightenment?'
'Tomorrow morning at eight o'clock the cruise ship True Enlightenment, owned solely by the Guru Baalow Nee, a self-styled mystic of unknown origins who last year burst onto the Commercial Religion scene with the impact of an atom bomb, leaves Pier 52 on the Hudson for a three-week cruise to the Caribbean. Advertized as an excursion into mystical group self-consciousness, the cruise-the first on this ship since its purchase by the Guru two months ago-is viewed with skepticism and alarm by virtually every religious and civic leader this newspaper has reached for comment. The general attitude was summed up by a spokesman for the Archdiocese of New York, who said, 'The Guru is not a religious leader in any sense of the word. He is a shyster and an opportunist whose very sanity is open to serious question. To imagine him as the guiding light of 982 souls on dry land is morally and religiously frightening, but to imagine him as the guardian of their bodies as well-as master of a ship on the high seas-raises the question of the physical safety of his charges. The nature of his irrational antics in the past leads one to believe that the True Enlightenment will be saturated with drugs of every conceivable variety; that it will be the sight of numerous orgiastic rites and rituals, the scene of every type of irresponsible and harmful behavior imaginable, and in general a floating enclave of the devil himself. The spokesman added that Catholics are being strongly urged to shun this cruise.
'Since this newspaper has learned that the Guru himself, who reportedly holds a Captain's license issued by the Indian government in 1959, will be the ship's Master, it has offered the editorial opinion that embarkation on this cruise may well be unsafe. (See editorial page.) The editors do not feel themselves qualified to comment on the Guru's religious status, but point out that the highly respected Guru Thomas Maharanji, confirmed ascetic and Professor of Eastern Religion at Harvard, has offered his opinion: The Guru Baalow Nee,' says Maharanji, lias once more found an ingenious way to separate those who seek religious truth from the burdens of their earthly riches. Since, however, in my opinion at least, the Guru has approximately the religious insight of a horned toad, his cruise will at best be enlightening only to the pocket books of those who are foolish enough to pay the ridiculous amount of $2,500 for their passage.''
Sean raised his eyebrows. 'Heavy shit,' he said. 'I must admit… '
Virginia Vagina exploded. 'Are you going to believe that crap? Listen, the Guru is the wisest man on the face of the earth! He's… '
'Yeah, yeah, sure,' Sean said, 'but I don't care about any of that. Well, what the hell, the only way he can fuck up is to sink the ship, right? And I doubt he'll do that. Besides, the Daily News fails to recognize one important thing. If everybody on this cruise but us has put out $2,500 for three weeks, it's going to be a pretty damned high- class clientele. There aren't going to be many loonies or convicts or whatever else anyone might be afraid of. Anyhow, we're going.'
'Doesn't scare me,' John said. 'If I spent nine months in the Nam and didn't get my balls blown off m just bet no Guru's going to do that for me.'
'I'll tell you something,' Joe said. 'The Guru interests me. I've heard some of the shit he's said, seen him on TV once, and I'm not sure he's the slightest bit nuts. I haven't figured out what he is yet, but some of the shit he says makes a hell of a lot of sense. Maybe it's the philosopher in me finding subtleties that aren't there, but I'm willing to take a little chance to find out.'
'Yeah,' Andrea agreed. 'He makes sense to me too.' But she wasn't about to tell anyone why.
'Ok,' Joanna concluded. Tuck it. If you're all going I sure as hell won't be alone, and to tell you the truth, if the old Guru doesn't find an iceburg to run into in the Caribbean, it sounds like it could be a real gas. Count me in.'
CHAPTER EIGHT
