The Lonely Lady by Harold Robbins Page B

too cool, man.”
    “She’s not like that,” Fred whispered fiercely. “She’s just a straight kid.”
    “I ain’ arguin’. She straight all right. But she also ready. That sweet li’l white pussy is ripe an’ beggin’ to be picked.”
    “What makes you such an expert?” Fred asked angrily.
    “Becuz I only got two things on my mind, man. Drums an’ pussy. If’n I ain’t think about one, I’m think’ ’bout t’other.” He laughed. “You better believe it.”
    Fred looked back at the dance floor but JeriLee and Walt were gone.
    ***
    The moment she came into his arms on the dance floor he had felt her breasts pressing against him through his thin shirt. She wasn’t wearing a brassiere. He was sure of it. Instantly he felt himself growing hard and tried to move his hips slightly away from her so that she would not know. But she moved along with him, sighed slightly and rested her head on his shoulder.
    “Hey,” he said.
    She raised her face.
    “Do you always dance like this?”
    “I don’t know. I just follow,” she said.
    “Do you know what you’re doing to me?” he asked. “I’m getting very excited.”
    Her eyes were level. “I didn’t know I was doing that. I thought you were doing it to me.”
    “You mean you’re excited too?”
    “I think if you let go of me I’d fall. My legs feel so weak.”
    He stared at her. He had been wrong. All the time he had thought she was just an innocent little girl. Abruptly the orchestra broke into a fast number. He stopped and looked down at her. “JeriLee, let’s get out of here.”
    “Okay,” she said and followed him through the open terrace doors. They cut across the lawn toward the parking lot. She didn’t speak until he held the door of his car open for her. “Where are we going?”
    “Someplace we can be alone,” he said.
    She nodded as if she had known that was what he would say and got into the car. In ten minutes they pulled into the driveway of a small house just off the beach.
    He cut the motor and looked at her. “There’s no one at home. My father won’t be in from New York until tomorrow and the housekeeper’s gone home.”
    She looked at him without comment.
    “Don’t you have anything to say?”
    She looked down at her hands folded in her lap, then back at him. “I’m a little frightened.”
    “Of what?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “Don’t be,” he said, not knowing her real fears. “No one will know you’re here. The nearest neighbor is a half mile down the beach.”
    She didn’t answer.
    “There’s a heated pool out back,” he said. “It’s great to swim there at night. Would you like that?”
    She nodded. “But I don’t have a swimsuit.”
    He smiled. “That’s one of the nice things about swimming at night. It’s dark.” He got out of the car and walked around to open her door. “Coming?”
    She suddenly laughed. “Why not?”
    “What are you laughing about?”
    “I’m afraid you’d never understand.” For the first time in a month she was beginning to feel better. It was almost as if she had always known that this was the way it would happen.
    They walked through the house and out the back door to the pool. He pointed to a small cabana. “You can leave your things in there.”
    “Okay,” she said, starting toward it. “Where are you going?” she asked when she noticed he was heading back into the house.
    “I’ll be back in a minute,” he said. “I just want to get a few cold drinks.”
    Entering the cabana, JeriLee looked at herself in the large mirror over the vanity table. There was a calmness about her face that surprised her because it did not reflect the excitement seething within her. Quickly she unfastened her blouse and her breasts sprang free. The nipples were swollen and distended. Softly she touched them. They still ached but the touch was pleasant. Actually that was why she had not worn her brassiere. It had hurt her breasts too much. Gently she pressed her breasts again