now, there were other things to do. She hadn't even toured the hotel and its grounds or met the staff yet, and she decided to spend the day catching up on this duty.
The Granada Hotel, as her father had named it, was a mammoth structure done in Spanish style, with extensive landscaped grounds. It was very popular with the young, rich crowd of the Western states and with many Easterners as well. It lay on a crescent-shaped bay of the Pacific, and so could offer surfing, swimming, and boating. On Jennifer's first morning, the hotel seemed filled to capacity, and the veranda and grounds swarmed with noisy, frolicking people.
Jennifer met and spoke with her staff, from desk clerks to chef, and was satisfied with their competence and loyalty. She was on her way out of the hotel for a look at the grounds, when she passed a door she hadn't noticed previously. Its name plate read, 'Dr. Charles Ciardi, House Physician.' Well, thought Jennifer, if there is such a person, I ought to know him. So she knocked.
'Come in!' rumbled a pleasant voice.
Jennifer entered a small, cluttered room, filled with bookshelves and filled up by a big desk. Behind the desk, in a swivel chair, lounged a powerfully built, dark skinned man in his thirties, with an intelligent, craggy face. His chief feature seemed to be his hair. Thick black hair covered his head, arms, and the back of his hands, and bristled from the open collar of his light, cotton shirt. He looked appreciatively at Jennifer and grinned, showing strong, white teeth.
'Let me guess!' he said. 'You think you're knocked up. Or you suspect you caught a dose of clap from your boy friend. Don't be shy, young lady, tell me everything! I'm a doctor.'
'None of the above,' said Jennifer coldly, much put off by his unprofessional manner. 'I happen to be the new owner of this hotel. My name is Jennifer James. You, I assume, are Dr. Ciardi?'
He didn't even have the decency to look embarrassed. He only laughed, 'Miss James, of course! You'll have to pardon me – I'm not noted for being diplomatic.'
'Indeed.' Jennifer eyed him thoughtfully, feeling an urge to get rid of this brash man if she could. 'And just what are your duties here, Doctor? Besides sitting with your feet on the desk and being rude?'
Again he laughed. 'Oh, I'm indispensable to the place, Miss James, I assure you! This is one of my rare free moments. The place simply crawls with psychosomatic ailments, that is to say, imaginary illnesses, and it's my job to treat theft. Headaches, ulcers, false pregnancies, rashes, paranoia, even delusions of grandeur – I've see them all. I don't get to practice much medicine, but it pays extremely well.' He gave her an intimate, knowing glance which she did not like. 'I can tell you're thinking about firing me. But wait a day or so, and see how many frantic people I treat. You couldn't get along without me. And occasionally I even do some real doctoring – there are some cases of sunburn, arid the surfers keep getting banged up.'
'I'll think about it.' Jennifer replied shortly, getting up to leave.
'By the way,' Dr. Ciardi began, his voice more serious now. 'I treated your father in his last illness. It was cancer, and I'm sorry to say that even though I caught it early, he refused my advice to have an immediate operation. He loathed doctors. I sincerely hope you haven't inherited his stubbornness on that point.'
Jennifer merely nodded and walked out, thinking that perhaps Ciardi wasn't a quack after all. She would keep an eye on him, to make sure. She walked out the side front door of the hotel, down the broad stain, and out onto the immaculate grounds.
Wanting to escape the crowds for a while, she walked toward the distant border of the property, where there was a small, wooded area and no people in sight. She had been strolling here for perhaps fifteen minutes when she heard what sounded like the low, desperate cry of a woman in pain.
The noise seemed to be coming from beyond a thick grove of trees nearby. Jennifer hurried over in that direction, peered through the leaves, and froze, open-mouthed.
'Eat my pussy, damn you! That's what you're paid for!'
Jennifer could see clearly, too. In a small, bidden clearing within the grove, a woman stood holding her skirt up over her naked pelvis and waving a pair of black lace panties in her other hand. Facing her, and grinning broadly, was a young man.
'Go fuck yourself,' he said mockingly. 'That's one thing you haven't tried yet.'
'You arrogant bastard!' the woman shrieked. She threw the panties at the young man, and they hit his shoulder and wafted lazily to the grass. He kept grinning, hands on hips, and the woman's eyes blazed angrily.
Jennifer knew that according to everything she had been taught, all the manners and all the etiquette, she should leave, at once and allow the couple their privacy. But she couldn't bring herself to go just yet, because she recognized this man and woman.
The woman's identity could not be mistaken.
She was Laura Langley, an immensely popular television actress, currently starring in a sentimental series about a young widow with nine children. In real life she appeared much older than in the series; she was no doubt in her middle forties, and though her face was still beautiful it looked somewhat haggard and hard. Her long, abundant red hair was obviously dyed, and she was not using the husky, soothing voice for which she was famed. She was screeching.
'You lousy sonofabitch, I told you to eat my pussy, and you're damned well going to do it!'
The mocking young man, tall and tan and golden-haired, strikingly handsome and built well, was Kip Kovak, a bit player in TV, who, according to all the gossip magazines, was Miss Langley's lover. Now it appeared that he was her paid stud. But at the moment he was not being very subservient.
'Eat it yourself,' he laughed. 'I bet you could if you got desperate enough. I hear you were quite an acrobat when you were younger.'
'You're fired!' shrieked Laura Langley.
Kip Kovak walked lazily towards the infuriated actress, stopping inches away from her. His voice was soft and sexy now. 'Aw, come on, baby, don't be mad. I was just kidding you, just getting some laughs.' He tilted her chin up, leaned closer to her. 'You wouldn't fire me, anyway. You know nobody can bring you off like I do.'
Laura melted. Her eyelids drooped, her breathing slowed, and she snaked her arms around Kip's neck. 'Oh, Kip,' she crooned huskily. 'I know, I know! Do it to me now, please!'
The young man grinned and cupped her breasts, big and heavy and swaying beneath her short dress. Laura closed her eyes and moaned softly. Then Kip seized the hem of her dress and slowly drew the garment off over her head, tousling her thick, red hair and uncovering a body that, although a little thickened and slack, still preserved the famous curves so often photographed and admired by the public. Beneath the dress Laura worn only a bra to hide her magnificent tilt.
Kip deftly and quickly unhooked the bra and drew it off, and the woman's huge breasts fell, quivering, into their natural slope, still shapely and full, tough lacking the firmness of youth.
Now the famous actress stood naked and yielding before her young gigolo, her large, green eyes soliciting him warmly. Her skin was tan except for the pale white of her breasts, buttocks, and lower belly. The large triangle of her snatch was dark brown, the true color of her hair, and her legs were long and shapely. Jennifer thought she was still extraordinarily beautiful, and apparently Kip Kovak did, too, for as he eyed her body he lost his cool, mocking manner and suddenly became excited. With a harsh growl, he seized her and lowered her to the grass.
'Oh, yes,' Laura moaned, almost as if in pain – the same noise that had attracted Jennifer's notice in the first place. 'Yes, darling, eat me!'
Laura stretched out limply, submissively on her back, while Kip quickly removed his clothes. The actress watched him with feverish impatience, licking her lips, and then, unable to wait any longer, thrusting her own hand between her legs. With her middle finger she found her red clitoris. As she spread her legs wider, Jennifer could see all of her gleaming, rosy slit, wet and swollen in readiness. The dark mouth of her cunt seemed quite large, and was drooling a steady trickle of white cream. Laura rubbed her clit harder, and the stream of vaginal juices increased.
Meanwhile Kip tossed aside his shorts and stood naked. Jennifer had to admit that his body was magnificent, broad-shouldered, thin-hipped, tan and hard, with every muscle tautly outlined. But, she thought absently, he wasn't nearly as well hung.
Jonathan – and then she blushed at her own wicked thoughts. It was true, however; his prick and balls, though certainly big enough, were only average compared to her brother's prodigious equipment. Perhaps,
