dozens of interesting guests. And she would, she knew, behave as was expected of her. She would laugh and flirt and dance and convince everyone that she was having a wonderful time and she’d do everything within her power to make the others enjoy themselves as well.
Martay lazily placed the lathered sponge atop her bare left shoulder and slowly spread a soapy trail down her arm. Changing hands, she repeated the action on her other arm. Then dipped the soapy sponge into the hot water and brought it up to her throat.
No, she was not looking forward to the Darlingtons’ party, and the reason she wasn’t was that she was to be escorted by Major Lawrence Berton and she didn’t want to go with him and she felt downright mean about it.
But there it was.
She faced the truth now as she sat in her hot tub in the privacy of her bathroom. She did not want to spend her entire evening with Larry. She didn’t really want to spend any more of her evenings with Larry, because she could tell that he had fallen in love with her, though she’d known him for only six weeks. He was beginning to behave just like Farrell T. Youngblood, Jr., back in Chicago.
Again Martay sighed wearily and wondered if there would ever be a man in her life who did not turn into a spineless, moonstruck boy after she’d shared a few moonlight kisses with him.
The abrasive sponge moved around her slippery left breast in a slow, tickling circle.
What would it be like, she wondered dreamily, to meet a man so fierce and strong, he could overpower her with the sheer strength of his will. A man dark and handsome whose cocksure manner and natural arrogance could not be altered by her. A compelling, godlike creature whose very presence would render her totally speechless and awed. A virile, untamed male who could silence her with a look, frighten her with a word, tame her with a touch.
The warm sponge, guided now with both her hands, was moving over Martay’s wet belly, and she realized, guiltily, that the nipples of her breasts, now fully above the water, were standing out in twin erect peaks. Face hot, she continued to conjure up an image of the man she was yet to meet. And as her daydreams grew more vivid, more real, the untapped passion deep within her rose ever closer to the surface.
An underlying fire that was totally foreign caught her by surprise, spreading through her bare wet body with unsettling speed. A tickling, thrilling feeling that made her long legs tense, her back arch, her breath grow short. An intense heat, far hotter than the steamy bathwater, was centered between her pale thighs, and the telltale nipples of her breasts were now tingling points of sensation.
Frightened yet intrigued by this new experience, and never one to back away from pleasure of any kind, Martay remained as she was, allowing the abrasive sponge to roam at will over every inch of her trembling, ignited body. And she closed her eyes once more, the better to imagine the tall dark man she could almost see beneath closed lids.
With her eyes tightly shut, she surrendered completely to her enchanting charade.
It was his dark hands that guided the soapy sponge so tantalizingly over her bare, burning body. His gentle coaxing that caused her knees to fall apart in expectation. His commanding touch that moved unerringly toward …
“Martay. You better get out of that tub,” came Lettie’s intrusive voice from just beyond the door, “you’re going to burn completely up.” Martay jumped as if she had been shot.
Face flaming red, she leapt up, sending water splashing over the tub’s rim, and reached anxiously for a towel.
“Be right out,” she called, her heart pounding as the heat that had claimed her body was replaced by a definite chill.
6
A n hour later Martay descended the stairs, looking very much like a shining angel come down to earth. The ball gown she was wearing was of shimmering white silk and was of the latest fashion. Small capped sleeves that left her
Martay lazily placed the lathered sponge atop her bare left shoulder and slowly spread a soapy trail down her arm. Changing hands, she repeated the action on her other arm. Then dipped the soapy sponge into the hot water and brought it up to her throat.
No, she was not looking forward to the Darlingtons’ party, and the reason she wasn’t was that she was to be escorted by Major Lawrence Berton and she didn’t want to go with him and she felt downright mean about it.
But there it was.
She faced the truth now as she sat in her hot tub in the privacy of her bathroom. She did not want to spend her entire evening with Larry. She didn’t really want to spend any more of her evenings with Larry, because she could tell that he had fallen in love with her, though she’d known him for only six weeks. He was beginning to behave just like Farrell T. Youngblood, Jr., back in Chicago.
Again Martay sighed wearily and wondered if there would ever be a man in her life who did not turn into a spineless, moonstruck boy after she’d shared a few moonlight kisses with him.
The abrasive sponge moved around her slippery left breast in a slow, tickling circle.
What would it be like, she wondered dreamily, to meet a man so fierce and strong, he could overpower her with the sheer strength of his will. A man dark and handsome whose cocksure manner and natural arrogance could not be altered by her. A compelling, godlike creature whose very presence would render her totally speechless and awed. A virile, untamed male who could silence her with a look, frighten her with a word, tame her with a touch.
The warm sponge, guided now with both her hands, was moving over Martay’s wet belly, and she realized, guiltily, that the nipples of her breasts, now fully above the water, were standing out in twin erect peaks. Face hot, she continued to conjure up an image of the man she was yet to meet. And as her daydreams grew more vivid, more real, the untapped passion deep within her rose ever closer to the surface.
An underlying fire that was totally foreign caught her by surprise, spreading through her bare wet body with unsettling speed. A tickling, thrilling feeling that made her long legs tense, her back arch, her breath grow short. An intense heat, far hotter than the steamy bathwater, was centered between her pale thighs, and the telltale nipples of her breasts were now tingling points of sensation.
Frightened yet intrigued by this new experience, and never one to back away from pleasure of any kind, Martay remained as she was, allowing the abrasive sponge to roam at will over every inch of her trembling, ignited body. And she closed her eyes once more, the better to imagine the tall dark man she could almost see beneath closed lids.
With her eyes tightly shut, she surrendered completely to her enchanting charade.
It was his dark hands that guided the soapy sponge so tantalizingly over her bare, burning body. His gentle coaxing that caused her knees to fall apart in expectation. His commanding touch that moved unerringly toward …
“Martay. You better get out of that tub,” came Lettie’s intrusive voice from just beyond the door, “you’re going to burn completely up.” Martay jumped as if she had been shot.
Face flaming red, she leapt up, sending water splashing over the tub’s rim, and reached anxiously for a towel.
“Be right out,” she called, her heart pounding as the heat that had claimed her body was replaced by a definite chill.
6
A n hour later Martay descended the stairs, looking very much like a shining angel come down to earth. The ball gown she was wearing was of shimmering white silk and was of the latest fashion. Small capped sleeves that left her
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