The entire fiat was dimly lighted, the shutters bolted tightly against the invading sun. The odor of freshly cut flowers was everywhere, mingling with the strong scent of a woman's perfume. Hugh stood in the drawing room, hands in his pockets, surveying the fin-de-siиcle furnishings.
To one side stood the maid, a tall, reddish-haired girl dressed in a black outfit; she had spoken to him on the telephone. While pretty, in fact almost beautiful, her face was a mask, not a muscle moving. Near her, before an enormous desk, the top of which was filled with bronze and china statuettes, sat a man who introduced himself as Maurier. He was tall, slender, cruel-featured, with a haircut that was out of fashion, much too short. As he spoke his long thin fingers played with one of the glass figurines. Somehow Hugh found it easy to picture this man in the uniform of an army officer.
"According to this rйsumй of your talents I would think that being a chauffeur would be far beneath you." Maurier tapped the application form Hugh had filled out.
Hugh sighed and looked down at the polished parquet floor. "I've worked in high positions and low positions."
"Never as a chauffeur."
"I know cars."
"As a racing driver, perhaps. There is a large difference."
"Mr. Maurier, I applied for this job because I need it."
Maurier pursed his thin lips. "I am certain I have seen you before. Seems there was a playboy I ran across.., resembled you."
This was just a waste of time and he did not have to put up with this man's nonsense. "Mr. Maurier, do you need a chauffeur?"
"Do not be sensitive. I must ask questions. I just cannot take people into my employ like that." He snapped his fingers. "All right, do you possess an international driver's permit?"
Hugh brought out his wallet, removed his various licenses and started forward. The maid anticipated his movements and, intercepting him, reached for the papers. She handed them to her employer who glanced briefly, almost disinterestedly at them.
"Right. You will drive a Mercedes Benz. A new one, I might add, so I would not like to see any scratches or dents on it. It is to be dusted daily, washed every three days, and polished every two weeks."
The man not only wanted a chauffeur but a carwash attendant as well, but he did not say one word about salary.
Maurier read his mind. "I shall pay you one thousand two hundred francs a month and. of course, your food and lodgings are free."
Hugh nodded. A job was a job. What else could he say?
Maurier spoke to the maid. "Show him the car and take him to the tailor to be fitted for the uniform."
The girl nodded and told Hugh to follow her. They went out into the garden and down a path to the garage. At no time did she attempt any conversation. Hugh, occasionally stealing a glance at her, saw that the redhead possessed a magnificent body.
She led him to the garage, weaving her way through automobiles of various sizes and makes to stop before a huge Mercedes Benz 2805E. It was black with white leather and apparently new.
"How old is this car?"
"Less than one month so you better be careful with it." She opened a door and pointed at the ignition key resting in the switch. "Will you test it?"
"No, lam familiar with these models. It will be no problem at all."
Now a tall man, young, heavily built, with thick curling hair and a face streaked with oil stepped out of the inner depths of the garage. He nodded at the maid and spoke to Hugh.
"New chauffeur, eh?"
"Yes."
The man snickered. "Poor fellow."
"Why?"
"The things that are going to happen to you, that's why."
The maid yelled "Keep your dirty mouth closed."
The garage mechanic shouted at her in a language which Hugh recognized as Italian.
"Hey, what is this all about?"
"She knows, this girl" The mechanic was angry as he spoke. "Tell that bastard, your new boss, to haul this Mercedes out of here by tonight or we'll push it out onto the street. You know, you might be a good sort, so I am going to give you some advice."
"Shut up, you pig." The maid's eyes were narrowed, her fists tightly clenched and her rounded bosom heaving. 'This pig attempted to force himself on me and when I refused he spread filthy rumors."
"Rumors!" The mechanic pointed to the rear of the garage. "Twice I had you back there. Once in the back seat of an old car and once on the floor. Your bottom got all dirty."
"Liar!" Her reply was somewhat half-hearted and Hugh began to believe the mechanic.
"She was so fed up with that Maurier," the mechanic explained, "that she was glad of the opportunity to have a real man, even though I am generally evil-smelling and dirty."
The girl fled from the garage.
Hugh looked after her and shrugged his shoulders. "Not my business what you two did. She's a beauty and going after her for a screw is to be expected."
"Do you need a job that badly or are you one of them?"
"One of what?"
"One of those immoral types like Maurier."
"Look, friend, whatever difficulties you're having with my new boss is not my affair." He started to walk out of the garage.
The man yelled after him: "Get this car out by nightfall if you don't want it wrecked."
In the street the maid was waiting. She gave him the name of a tailoring establishment adding, 'They ouffit all chauffeurs so there should be a uniform in your size."
"Does the color make any difference? I don't want to wear something so ridiculous as white."
"Just make certain it's lightweight, for your own comfort." She paused, "Listen, that pig back there, do you believe him?"
"I told him it's none of my business."
"So you do believe him!"
"Ahh, hell, look, I just want to chauffeur a damned car."
Without a word the maid marched off. Hugh stood there watching her, his eves centering on her twisting buttocks, two lovely balls grinding beneath the thin fabric of her skirt. It did not make sense to him, a delicious, well-built girl like that throwing herself at the foul-mouthed mechanic. And all that talk about Maurier. It just did not make any sense.
He took a seat in a cafй directly across the way from Maurier's apartment building, reflecting on the worth of the job. Trouble was in the offing, and he wanted no part of it. But the alternative was to return to London and the lazy life. No other positions were available.
A waiter took his order, then shortly afterwards placed a glass of rosй before him. Hugh paid and raised the glass aloft, thinking, well, I am on my way.
The cafй was large, catering to all types, the rich, those who hoped to appear rich, and some indifferent souls, mostly young, who did not seem to care one way or another. They laughed, shouted, drank, smoked and listened to the sound of raucous rock coming from the speakers of the enormous jukebox.
Hugh glanced around, disinterested in the older people, surveying only the young boys and girls while his mind whirled with events of the past. His eyes fastened on a shapely brunette sitting by herself. A type similar to Jennifer.
The girl returned Hugh's gaze and slowly, almost deliberately, he knew, crossed her extremely long legs, giving him a flash of tanned thigh under the denim skirt.
He examined her, looking up from the luxurious legs with their round calves past the curved hips and slender waist to the full breasts. She was truly a dream, the sight of her making his breath catch in his throat.
The brunette looked in his eyes, smiled slowly and slid the tip of her tongue along her heavy lower lip. No more than nineteen years of age, he figured, and in another second she would be here.
Some women needed a neon sign to advertise their profession, but not this kid. She had plastered her well-developed teen-aged body with a tight blue shirt, and any man with a hundred francs in his pocket knew the score.
A whore. She had to be one.
Sorry, I can not accommodate you, baby, Hugh said to himself, I've got a man waiting for me and he has first crack at my time because he is holding the money.
He abruptly stood up, gave the dream girl a final look and left. Maybe chauffeuring won't be so bad, he hoped. At any rate that voluptuous maid will be around to make things more pleasant. With him on the scene she wouldn't have to run to garage mechanics for her pleasure.
With the uniform of his choice, a pale blue mohair, boxed and under his arm, Hugh left the tailor shop and strolled down the winding, cobble-stoned street, past a nightclub now shuttered, where he had once spent too much time and money. Those days are past, he knew, long past, and now I am a working stiff.
It would be strange to be in this town where he had played so hard, taking all the fun of a lifetime in a few weeks, working as a chauffeur. He wondered how many people with whom he had associated would see him.
Well, he would just look the other way, making them think they had confused him with someone else. Hugh, the renowned playboy, chauffeuring people about! Oh, no, it can't be him.
"Hello!"
"Huh!". It was the brunette from the cafй, the kid from the cafй leaning against a wall with her out-thrust hip. "What're you doing here?"
"I followed you. Don't you remember me?"
He looked at her, searching his memory, and shook his head. "Frankly, I don't. I saw you for the first time about a half-hour ago."
The girl smiled and mentioned the name of a man Hugh was acquainted with. "There was a big party here last year on his yacht. I was one of the girls invited."
"Wait a minute." He stared at her, recalling now a slender blonde he had spent the night with.
"It is me." She slapped a rounded thigh. "Of course I have added a little weight since then. After all, I am still a growing girl."
"Your hair…"
"Dyed. Straight out of the bottle. Now it's natural again. Looks much better this way, don't you think?"
"You must excuse me. Sometimes my memory is bad."
"You've had far too many girls, that's why."
"Yes, well… " he did not know what else to say. "And you are back here now, on vacation?"
"I live here. You really don't have a memory. Don't you know What sort of work I do?"
He had guessed it back there in the cafй, but decency prevented him from saying he was well acquainted with her profession. "So there are no more parties, eh?"
"No. Money is tight, even in this part of the world. The yachts are still there but those who own them are not interested in girls like me. C'est la vie!"
"A shame. But, that's the way things go. Now I really must be getting along."
"Of course. With me." She took the boxed uniform from him and started off, presumably in the direction of her place.
In a daze he followed her, seeing how her rounded bottom, deliciously round and firm-looking, swung from side to side, each lovely cheek grinding away beneath the short denim skirt.
Man, she had not waited for his answer, had not even discussed a price, in fact. She was taking him for granted simply because she knew what men were like. Then he thought of the Baldwin's, that conniving trio, the fat bastard, his horrible wife and that beautiful but dangerous daughter. And Hugh hurried after the whore, determined to screw that terrific ass off her.
On the stairs she allowed him a fast feel because he was a buyer who rightfully should squeeze up the goods. But her apartment was an oven and he recoiled.
"Hot as hell inhere. Wow!"
"It always is, but let me open the windows and maybe some fresh air will clear the heat" She moved about like a ballerina, easy, happy, whistling, startling slender and proud.
He was trying to remember the past, remember a girl like this was straight out of a dream; but the past was too elusive.
Her smell came swimming in thick waves of perfume and woman's odor and hot apartment air, sweeping away everything presently troubling him, and Hugh knew that shortly her lovely body would be thrusting up, twisting in upward jerks, the rounded thighs wide apart, her wet mouth open, her pretty head rolling and her bottom making slow and wide circles.
He thought about it and was so exhilarated that the tingling in his loins made him too sharply aware of everything, of senses, of touch, of desire. Even before his manhood reached the state of erection he wanted desperately to be in the girl's body.
Some of the sun trickled feebly threw the closed windows, laying a partly white, partly yellow bar across the floor. Slowly he looked around the room at the badly papered walls, the cheap woven rug, the old chandelier, so art deco with but a single dusty bulb in the center, the hard stare of film star Charles Bronson on a poster covering part of the wall and, most of all, the strong odor of a woman in the hot air.
The space between these two people, the man who was fleeing trouble and a strange girl, perhaps a whore, was filled with passion as it fit was flowing from her body to his. He kept thinking she was like a dancer, strong, steel-sharp and supple, capable of all strength and smooth movement.
The windows were opened, a transistor radio switched on, the covers peeled back from her bed. The girl was ready for business. She had such a carefree manner, but he acted like a shocked parson, unable to accept the situation.
The girl opened her blouse and her breasts, bared, were dazzling, perfectly shaped like tanned gourds tipped by coral nipples. As she unhooked the skirt to reveal womanly thighs her red lips moved in warm phrases, murmuring about the yacht party and his performance as a lover.
"I still remember; you were fantastic." Her light eyes, as if fueled by lust, were melting.
He looked at her insinuating pose and' knew he ought to forget everything and abandon himself to passion for a few moments. His shoes went flying, his trousers dropped and then he was naked, his fingers stretching to grasp the sensuous breasts and roving thighs.
She held him off at first with three swift kisses and then was away, her hips writhing and her liberated buttocks rotating. "Oooh, someone I know is very excited."
The breasts were sizeable, but not the shape he had imagined. No sir, those things were fantastic! Uncovered, they were out-thrust, soaring in the air.
At once his manhood rose, blood rushing along it, swelling it to the proper portion. He leaned over her as she slid along the bed, smiling up at him. Her robust thighs were there for him to stroke, but when he attempted to part them she shook her head.
"Wait a bit." Fear of being chafed had the young brunette begging him to delay his entrance. "I am too dry inside, I think."
The only thing then was to pet and kiss and clutch each other in a hungry embrace. The girl twisted, teasing him, shifting her curved torso in such a manner that the balloons swung against his chest.
"You have marvelous breasts."
That is one thing I know. Lovely, aren't they?"
It was torture for him and the knob of his manhood trailed across her round, firmly fleshed thighs. She offered him her full mouth as his hands eagerly caressed the teen-aged curvaceous body.
"How could I have forgotten you?"
She was a dream, this girl, he kept telling himself. All silken and hard with that solid steel behind and those round, ripe breasts. Man, oh man, what an unbelievable body!
At last, after a long kiss, the girl gasped and told him she was ready. Her hand felt his pole, the fingers curled about it, the nails gouged the skin. She masturbated him slowly, to rid him of the first, hasty ejaculation.
"Then you shall be able to ride me well and for long."
"Stop that!" He pried her fingers away. "I am not a kid. Hell, girlie, I know how to control myself! You'll get your ride, and a long one it shall be."
"All right then, let us see."
A last hot passionate exchange of kisses, and his hands were traveling rapidly along her smooth shoulders, down to her slender waist, around to her buttocks, cupping the solid cheeks.
He pulled her closer and allowed her fingers to guide his joint between the slightly opened legs. He was only partially in when he heard her moan and felt the wetness of her slit on the tip of his penis.
"Ahhhhhhh"'
"What?"
"Sometimes… sometimes it is this way. Ahhhhh!"' Already her backside was in action, those shapely tanned cheeks revolving. Then he angled his body cushioning his face in her quite overwhelming breasts, and bore down.
"Now!"
"Ooobhh, not so hard!"
There was a slushing sound as his tool, invading the narrow passageway, drove whatever juice was there out. Man, did it feel good as those vaginal lips closed over the root of his penis!
"Baby, you are not only tight but hot!" He lowered himself even more, going down into the well of her privates where the oils bubbled. Then he could dig no more. He was completely sheathed.
Now the fun starts!
He gripped her rear end, spreading the cheeks apart as he started to rise up a bit. "I should have remembered a girl with a body like yours."
"Yes, you should but ooooo!"
The girl, so resembling a student with her flowing brown locks, unblemished cheeks and round light eyes, sighed. She closed her mouth over his shoulder, sinking her teeth into the flesh.
"Ow!"
"Ahhh, sorry, sorry. But sometimes I do not consider this work and then… I come! Often I feel nothing, no pleasure but you… ahhh, eeeee! That thing of yours, it fits into me so well… I know I shall come!"
She was talking on and on but he did not hear her. He was gone, completely out of this world, sent there by the writhing of her shapely young body.
Both of them now were in a savage state, uttering obscenities, working together, becoming halves of the same thing. A long kiss was held while she worked with her loins and he slid powerfully in and out of her.
The teenager climaxed first. She came, squealing like a pig racing around in the mud of a farm. He rode her all the more fiercely and as the first climax faded the second built up and she let out more squeals of raw, undiluted happiness.
"Move, move, girlie, because I am moving, do you hear?"
"I hear and… ooohhh, I feel!"
He sent his shaft steadily into the velvety well, letting her know the full power, stretching the walls of her insides. She screamed and screamed and could not stop screaming.
Her soft lips were all over his face. Her mouth pecked at his ears, cheek, eyes, her wet quivering tongue rasping on his neck. When the final thrust approached he went into an awful stroke, giving it to her without let-up.
"There, there, the finish, baby, I am approaching the finish line, so take it!"
The brunette did take it. She had no other choice. She continued to buck in spasmodic release, curving her shapely torso, blending completely with him as he increased his rhythm. Then, out of control,, she hooked violently upon the waves of the last orgasm.
"No! Noooo! Ohhhh, noooo!"
He was going to come, even as she was coming. His hands, holding the silken, high-rising buttocks, felt them clench and unclench. Then hot cream bathed his tool and trickled along both of her squirming thighs to the wrinkled bed.
Still squealing, she sent her long, round-calved legs up and around his waist to tighten the hold on him as he climaxed, shooting into her.
Hugh panted and jerked and convulsed and was finally stilled.
Afterwards he thought of his new job and realized that Maurier and the maid must have wondered what had happened to him. He left the bed, washed up at the basin and started to get into his clothing.
"I wish I could stay longer."
The girl smiled but kept her eyes closed. "It is all right. We may meet again some other time."
"Look, ahh…" Now came the embarrassing part. "The one thing we did not discuss was price."
"I don't charge for a game I enjoy so much." She opened her eyes and began to laugh at him. "You took me for a professional and I am not. I broke up with my boy friend two days ago and since then I've had no one to sleep with."
"You're not…"
"A whore? No."
"Did I meet you last year, aboard a yacht?"
"You did, but we did not sleep together. You went off with a skinny blonde who resembles me somewhat. I fooled you all along."
There was a promise to meet again and a somewhat confused Hugh left the laughing, beautiful girl behind. He staggered along the street holding his uniform, thinking life was controlling him instead of the other way around.