The redhead kept staring at Cord Bannister. Normally, he would've welcomed this attention because she was a stunner, with soft, gleaming hair, a beautiful face and a nicely curved figure. She knew she was special too. She wore a black dress that bespoke elegance. She was no more than twenty-five. It was a restaurant in Oregon – she wasn't alone.
Cord, however, was in no mood to deal with females, beautiful or otherwise. He'd been in Oregon for two weeks now, testing his Smart Suit. First he'd gone to the University of Oregon at Eugene where he had a contact with the Psychology Department. Young coeds tested a half dozen of the Smart Suits. They thought they were great. The professors were quite interested in their reactions, so they reported they were great – left the lab and promptly forgot about them.
Cord had also done some testing in downtown Portland, with Andy Lang, the West Coast A-C man setting up some tests with a local marketing bureau. They selected both housewives and working wives. The wives thought they were great. Of the dozen or so suits put out, Cord was fairly certain that nine people took them home, shook them out, put them back in the box and returned them next day saying they were great without even wearing them. Two others seemed vaguely embarrassed. He guessed they'd actually tried the suits with their husbands. One woman was enthusiastic.
Cord had selected Oregon instead of the large cities of L.A., San Francisco or Seattle because he feared the city people were novelty oriented. There'd be a fad rush – then nothing. Also robots had just begun to reach the West Coast. That didn't help his SS suit tests. It sickened him to think that Nancy Lyons and her robots might win the day.
The redhead was part of a party of four. She was obviously married to a big-shouldered, dark-haired young man, and there was another couple with them. They sat at a table next to Cord, who dined alone in a booth. They bantered in the easy fashion of young married couples out for a nice dinner and evening, but the redhead who sat at an angle to Cord, kept staring at him. She was certainly no one he knew, but of course he wore nothing but the Smart Suit which might've caught her eye. Tight to his skin, but opaqued to a nice blue color it did make him stand out in any crowd.
He had left Portland to come to this small coast town to ponder what to do next. If people loved a product, or hated it, you had no problem. You sold it, or junked it. What did you do when they merely liked it?
The redhead raised her glass of wine and toasted him. Cord nodded and smiled briefly, while her husband glared and said something to her. Cord's mind was off and spinning again.
Nancy with her robots would have her problems, plenty of them. But she rode the crest of robot popularity – everybody was going to get rich on robots as they had once on stocks and later on real estate. Maybe he should go the opposite. Instead of going for the mass market, he should sell to the select few and make the SS a Rolls Royce type of item that the upward mobile people would seek because their social betters all owned one. Interesting idea.
The redhead was doing something very strange. She sat in her chair swaying slightly, her eyes sparkling, her lips wet and her face flushed. Cord thought she looked like someone in the middle of a sex experience, which was startling to see in the middle of a public restaurant. She looked right at him and smiled.
"Marsha, are you crazy?" her husband snapped.
The woman looked at him with glazed eyes, a superficial smile on her face. There was no question about what happened to her. She was having an orgasm. There were beads of moisture on her forehead, a sublime look on her face, a flushing and soft gasps.
"Marsha, are you sick?" asked her husband.
"N-no, Roy, I'm not sick," she gasped. Her eyes hung on Cord's face.
The husband swung around to glare at Cord. Cord, wanting to go inside of himself deeply and wrestle with his problem, gave a polite, impersonal nod and smile and looked elsewhere. The redhead finished her seizure, whatever it was, and the incident was over.
Cord had enormous powers of concentration. Outside it was raining, inside the crowded restaurant people talked in a happy, warm babble as people do when warm and cozy against the elements. Cord ate absently, his mind a thousand miles away, turning his problem this way and that.
He felt a disturbance at his elbow. He looked around – the redhead had joined him in the booth, gleaming hair, black dress and all.
"I'm Marsha Collins," she said in a tremulous voice. She sipped at her wine glass and peered at him shyly.
"Marsha," he said startled and annoyed. "I'm pleased to meet you. But I think you're disturbing your husband."
"That's a nice suit you're wearing."
It was clearly time to escape. For some reason this local beauty had fixed upon him, but he had no desire to achieve a pickup.
"It's a Smart Suit, Marsha," he said. "Someday you'll read all about it, but tonight I can't take the time to discuss it."
He reached for his check. A tall, angry and broad-shouldered young man stood menacingly in front of his table.
"What are you doing to my wife?"
"Absolutely nothing," said Cord standing up. "I don't know her. I don't want to know her."
"Marsha, why are you sitting with this man?" said young Collins.
"I-I-I don't know," she said, blushing.
"Youre doing something to my wife!" cried Collins.
Cord didn't deign to answer. He took his check and started to leave. Heads turned in their direction, the chatter of the crowd diminished as they had become the center of attention.
The young man took a swing at Cord. The other woman in his party screamed and the nearby waiter froze.
Naturally the blow never landed because Cord wore his Smart Suit. The fist angled off harmlessly into the air. Cord started to brush by him.
"You… you…!" cried the angered young man. He swung again and again, but each blow failed to land and he spun away from Cord from the exertions of his swing. Cord moved away. Collins sprawled on the floor.
"Did you see that?" someone gasped. "The guy swung – he couldn't hit the guy in the funny suit."
"Blows never touched him," said another. "Wow!"
Cord couldn't help a grim smile. It was advertising for the Smart Suit – but not tonight. He left the confusion behind him, loud voices, feet trampling and the friend helping the young husband to his feet.
The headwaiter took Cord's money card and bill. "Somebody said you knocked down young Collins."
"Somebody's wrong," said Cord. "He swung at me and missed. I did nothing, not to him, not to his wife."
"I ought to call the police," said the headwaiter. He was angry with Cord but aware of his big size. "Collins is a good customer."
"On a rainy night like this they wouldn't show up very soon," said Cord lightly.
He grabbed the check, signed it, retrieved his money card and escaped before things could get worse. He welcomed the emptiness of the parking lot, the heavy rain, the sense of isolation. He had to go back to his motel and work out this problem.
He had barely gotten into his rented Skimmer when there was a rush of a figure approaching in the heavy rain. A body hit the side of his car. A door jerked open. It was Marsha Collins.
"I have to… to go with you," she gasped.
She was soaked to the skin in the elegant black dress which was now a mess. Her attractive hairdo had melted in the rain. She must've slipped away in the confusion inside.
"Are you crazy, woman?" he said. "What do you want with me?"
"I have to… have to… go with you."
She got inside the Skimmer and closed the door.
Cord looked around desperately. There was no sign of anybody else, not yet. The woman was soaked. He was puzzled. He was pretty sure now that her strange actions had something to do with the SS and he wanted to know. He lifted the Skimmer off the ground. Young Collins would just have to surrender his wife for a couple of hours while Cord probed this mystery.
On the way to his motel, soaked and bedraggled as she was, Marsha Collins had another orgasm.
Inside his motel room he had her strip out of her soaked clothes and jump into the bed. She offered absolutely no objections to peeling down to the nude in front of him. He tried to keep his mind on the scientific mystery – she was one beautiful female.
When she was safely in the bed, covers pulled up, he said, "Now, young lady, let's get to the bottom of this. Why are you so stuck on me?"
She still had that strange dazed look.
"I… I don't know. I like your face. You… have the kind of body… body type I like in men. Like my husband."
"Is it the suit?"
"The suit… unusual… very attractive."
Her hand, under the covers, made motions. He couldn't believe it. She had the same flushed look as in the restaurant and in the Skimmer. She was…
He jerked back the covers. She had her legs spread, revealing lucious creamy thighs, bright red pubic hair – and an eager hand busily at work on her cunt. She looked up at him, eyes sparkling, dogged and determined. He felt a crawl of weird excitement. It had to be the suit.
"I'll just turn this off and remove it," he said. He had had the heat on the suit turned all the way up against the cold of the day. He touched the proper controls and the microwave heaters died at once.
"Ohhhh, that's better!" cried Marsha, with a huge sigh. "Oh, my goodness, what have I done?"
She suddenly came out of her daze, stopped masturbating and pulled the covers back over her nudity. "Oh, that's BETTER."
Cord had not yet removed the suit. He stared at her – he stared at the suit. He turned the microwave unit back on – to high, as it had been. He looked at the woman who had started to blush and apologize. As soon as he turned the M.W. on she stuttered, stammered in confusion and began to move her loins under the covers.
"I'm hot again!" she protested.
Cord turned off the suit and sat down to stare at the young woman in amazement.
"My suit did it to you, Marsha. My suit broadcast microwave heat – from my crotch – uh, my loins. Somehow it reached you."
"Got so hot!" she said. "Felt as if… I was doing it… had to do it, or die."
"Buy why you? Why not the other women in the place?"
She just shook her head. She was relieved to be released from her bitch heat.
"Back in the lab this never happened," puzzled Cord. Then the light began to break.
"Marsha, this is important. You dug me. I mean you liked my face, and you like my body type. Is that right?"
She nodded. "I've always gone for big-shouldered square-built men with V shaped faces. But I've never acted crazy like this."
He understood then. It had never happened before because none of his three or four female assistants in the lab dug his physical appearance that much. This woman turned on to his looks – and sat close enough so that those M.W. signals reached her in full force and fury. He laughed, delighted. Suddenly the SS had a new sales point that he'd never discovered because he hadn't been out in the field with it. Those M.W.'s probably affected all women in his vicinity when the suit was turned on high, but if they weren't predisposed they'd simply feel it as unlikely heat between their legs. He remembered now that the other woman in the party had seemed uncomfortable.
"Marsha, I owe you and your husband a big, fat apology. My electronic suit turned you on beyond your power to resist, and I didn't even know it. Caused you deep embarrassment. As soon as your clothes dry, I'll rush you home, and tell your husband."
She mumbled something.
"What?" asked Cord.
"I said, turn on the suit again. I like you and trust you, Cord. I don't want to go home – just yet. My husband has cheated on me, lots of times. I've been good. Soooo good. Lots of times I've looked at other men and turned on to them, but I never had a boost like your electronic suit. It was like something reached down deep inside of me – I feel very loving – I don't care what happens!"
Cord did a turn around the rug. "Now look, Marsha…"
"I don't care! If you don't want me, let me do it myself. You know where my hubby is right now? He's not looking for me. He's rushed to his secretary's apartment, crazy to get sympathy for what I've done. He gets another freebie tonight. He hopes I won't come home."
"But, baby," said Cord, "you're so good-looking. Why, there can't be another woman in this small town, here in Henderson, half as good-looking as you."
"There isn't. She has half my looks, but to Robert I'm a wife. W-I-F-E. The day we walked out of the church his eye started roving."
Cord shrugged. Inside he did not feel indifferent. The redhead turned him on like fury. He hadn't had any sex since that day in the lab with Marybelle, bless her blonde soul, who'd done quite well, considering that she didn't turn on to his body type.
"Marsha, I can wear this Smart Suit and give you some joy you'll never forget. But there's always tomorrow. How will you feel tomorrow."
She grinned at him, small even teeth gleaming. She raised her arms. "I'll feel positively fabulous, because all the time Robert's been tomcatting I've played the virgin wife – and as your suit proved, my subconscious has had enough of that nonsense."
Cord laughed, turned on the suit again and got into bed with the girl.
"In a sense this is bigger than you or me, Marsha. You are the pioneer of thousands of women who have similar problems but whose lifestyles are about to change when my suit goes on the market."
Cord changed the color of the suit from the dressy blue to transparent. He became a nude man in a shimmering cover. Marsha's eyes got big.
"Will you like me as well nude as when I wasn't?" he kidded her.
"Like a God," she gasped.
Cord took the ripe young girl into his arms with more than a feeling of normal desire. The time with Marybelle, she'd worn the suit, not he. It had been a long time since he'd tested a suit himself for sex, wearing the man's version. Then it had been with a couple of prostitutes, a mechanical exercise. This was a real test.
The first thing he sensed was a heightened awareness of Marsha's skin. The suit, in its seduction cycle, made her nudity feel incredibly warm and supple, amplifying the normal sensations. He was hard by the time he got in bed, of course, this time wearing the thin skin that covered his penis. The sensation down there was enhanced.
The suit did not cover his head, of course. The energy ducts at the neck protected the face from blows or weapons as it did the body, by projecting a shield, but a simple adjustment turned that off.
He fixed his mouth on the luscious lips of the heated-up wife and kissed her. She surged up against him, gasping. The suit not only took care of his sensations, it heightened hers as well. Her nipples as they raked his chest got intense stimulation from the covering.
"Ho, Cord -too much!" she cried.
"Can't be too much," he laughed, thrilling to the woman's nudity.
"Like fun! Go slower, or I'll come," she squealed.
He eased up on the kissing, stroking her silken body instead.
"Oh, Cord, don't do that or I'll come," she begged.
It was true that she was a mess between her legs. Her thrilled cunt had produced an endless flow of happy juice which stained her lower belly and thighs. As he held her he felt her internal quivers of delight and excitement, which told him that she was right on the verge of orgasm. The M.W. signals, in a real sex situation, turned her into a moist, orgasmic female.
Her breasts were beautiful, not too large, not too small and perfectly shaped. She had large aureoles and perky pink nipples without any bumps or flaws. He cupped one of her beauties.
"Cord. Don't do that or I'll…"
"I know. Come," he said. "Baby, you're just going to have to come."
He dived his head onto that cream flesh and sucked one of her nipples while he kneaded the other with full, fiery pleasure. He felt deep body thrills of his own, but he was protected from any accidents of fast ejaculation by the sleeve around his stiff cock. Marsha moaned and surged up.
"I… I… I…"
"Do it," he commanded. He slid a hand down to feel inside of her cunt and work her clit.
That did it for the white hot redhead. She arched her body, her eyes went big and she gave a wounding gasp of extreme pleasure.
"This… is… it!"
There was almost no freeze at all. She swept into full orgasm, her swollen, aching and greasy cunt squeezing ferociously on his fingers, digging her belly tight to him for her rutting pleasure. She gasped and arched up and paid off lusciously to his sliding fingers in her cunt. It was too bad to waste the orgasm like this, but there was nothing Cord could do about it. The girl was so high that any caresses he gave her would flip her over to hot surrender, so she might as well go with pressure on her swollen little clit.
"Ah, God, soooo gooood," she moaned, throbbing powerfully on his digging fingers. "Oh, Cord, you made me into a rutting bitch!"
"On you it looks good," he laughed. He took her carefully through her orgasm so she got all the sweetness from it that there was to get. This was her third orgasm, so she was in a melting, hot, and moist orgasmic state.
She thrust and grunted until her young womanhood tapered and she fell back exhausted once more, closing her eyes and resting in his arms. She was beautiful. What a lucky thing to discover this new power of his suit in such a happy fashion. It made up for the two weeks of bad times he'd had.
He drank in her beauty as she lay there, moist, blushing slightly from her sexual exertions, temporarily fucked out, with her young gland power glistening between her legs. Those big nipples on her breasts were soft now and her whole body gleamed like silk. Her swollen cunt seemed to beckon to him.
Cord slipped out of the SS. It was fine to get things started but he wanted to experience this one, free cock to free cunt. He mounted her, as she lay passive on the bed, legs carelessly spread. He canted up her belly and pressed his hard cock down for her cunt opening. It felt really wild and crazy to be fucking this luscious dish who'd been a complete stranger an hour ago. He worked his cock into position and drove it into her belly. She gasped again and surged as his big cock took her channel and he fucked several inches into her.
It did feel great! There was no need of the suit now.
"Marsha!" he cried. Then he sank his prick down on her and oozed deliciously to his full length into her body. How tight and wet her young cunt was! He slid his hands over velvet buttocks, froze her rigid and began to plunge happily in and out of her belly, reveling in the hot friction of the free fuck.
"I, I, I," she said. Her eyes came open. She looked up at him and smiled, her face wearing that lusting look of a female who is drunk with love. "I… getting the real thing… at last," she sighed.
"The… real thing, sweetheart," he said. He watched in fascination as her big, soft nipples began to harden again as her body received hot sex messages. This was one gone female.
She caught her bottom sensual lip in white teeth, gasped and began to move on his blade, giving him back the same hot friction he laid into her.
"I want you," she cried. "Been waiting for a tall sexy stranger…"
He had it in proportion now. She had been really overdue for a man that looked like him, acted like him and, for good measure, had a way to get her started. It took nothing away from the suit. Men and women often liked each other on sight and fantasized sex. The SS would be a new factor, sending out hot signals to make something happen. But only for people who really dug each other, and that was proper, too.
Cord relaxed now, not wanting to hurry. He eased down on top of Marsha's ripe body. His mouth sought hers. As he drove his tongue into her mouth, relished her sweet breath, and sampled her honey saliva, he felt he was really close to her, sensing her urgent need for his loving, plunging, prick.
Cord took plenty of time. In his profession, moments like these were few and far between. He seized a handful of her glorious red hair, pretty well dry now, and held her head still while he explored her wet mouth, all the while fucking slowly into her with long strokes. He felt her desire rise – it was aimost like manipulating a young, favorite pet. She was in a sex daze with him, where everything was possible.
He sucked French kisses off of her mouth until those soft lips were red with usage and she murmured in a slight protest. Yet all the time, she responded hotly to that lovemaking, shoving her own small, pink tongue into his mouth to be teased and bitten a little.
"I could kiss you all night," he told her, hugging the nude body to him. He 'spanked' her velvet belly with his strong stomach muscles, while she smiled up at him.
"I could take your kisses forever."
Deliberately he now moved down to her breasts. Those big nipples set him on fire – they were his kind of lovelies, full and pure, a delicate pink. He let the sweet good feeling of his desire lift him as he sucked and nibbled on her meat.
"Oh, Cord, that's hot!"
"Okay if I… ahh… eat 'em off?"
"Save a little," she gasped. She held his head and took the service of her breasts with delight, breathing heavily. He had barely managed to get his pleasure out of her second beauty when she began to strain up under him, eyes wide and body moist again as she rose to her fourth orgasm.
"Ah, I'm getting ready, ready," she told him.
How great it was to drive a female to this melting orgasm state over and over. How great it was for her, too. He dug his cock in and lifted her right up to glory.
Her head went back. Her belly strained. There was a sexy slogging sound as the soft muscles of her cunt held it taut in he sexual paralysis. Then she burst in the soft, rushing way a woman had, her cunt clipping and squeezing on his cock. Her throbs were powerful and she bucked and groaned.
"oh, I… taken… sooo taken!"
"Fly, little bird," he cried happily.
She was getting a little worn down now and her throbs did not last as long as the last time. He took her through and then let all his hold-back power collapse. Immediately his cock rushed to glory. He fell into the rich valley of a happy freeze as he lost control of his muscles and the sex explosion organized.
"Goiiiiinnng," he sang, locking tight to her hot, wet belly.
Spurt, spurt, spurt. His jism shot out into her body, making her with explosive charges and plenty of back pressure. Her slick womb was washed with his vigor, and the relief and pleasure he felt was incredible. It had been too long. There was a long way to go.
He gripped her tightly, making her feel every drop as he grunted, eyes glazed, body ejaculating magnificently, as he savored this most unusual fuck of this beautiful girl. Spurt, spurt, spurt. He did have a full, happy load to give her and he rinsed out every shot as if it were the last time he'd ever make a female. He always did this, holding back nothing.
"Ahhhhh, Marsha. That was a trip and a half," he finally breathed as he tapered and went still on top of her body.
"I hope we can do some more," she whispered.
"Child, we can do plenty more," he laughed, "especially as long as we have my Smart Suit to work with – and I have the beautiful excuse that it hasn't been fully tested in the field."
She smiled up at him.
The rain beat down on the motel roof with a pleasant monotony. Marsha lay on the bed, dozing, while Cord sat at the desk and made his notes on the SS. He felt excited now. Of course, even with compatible parties, the experiment would not be repeated in quite such a delicious way. He'd never run into such a good looking female, nor would he catch one just at the point where she died for hot, intense love due to the drabness of her personal life.
Then he returned to the bed and gave Marsha two more orgasms, one while he wore the suit and another without. He wanted to find out himself what the effect was to go from the suit to regular sex. The answer: not so hot, but he was slowing down himself a little, and the girl's cunt was reddened from all the action. It was not really a good test.
He lay beside her in the darkness, his mind still filled with aspects of the marketing, listening to the rain on the roof and Marsha's soft breathing. It had been a night to remember; an experience he would savor all his life. His last waking thought was the hope that she wouldn't awaken full of guilt and shame, and play a scene that he'd been into more than once.
She did not. When he awoke, the sun shone, the rain clouds were gone – and so was Marsha Collins. There was only a note in her handwriting, giving her address and phone, and a few wrinkled towels to tell of his beautiful evening.
"My problem," said Andy Lang, the A-C man in the territory, "is that the women I want I can't get and the women I don't want come on strong."
"Join the human race," smiled Cord.
They walked around one of Portland's biggest shopping centers. They had spent the morning interviewing store owners as they talked about the possibilities of the SS being stocked for retail.
Almost to a man, or woman, the buyers in the stores hated the Smart Suit. No one had ever come along with a suit loaded with electronics. As for the walking feature, people were too lazy anyway. As for the protective feature, the suit might be good for the police. As for the sex – the clothing people didn't even want to discuss that.