There was a stillness In the air that seemed to check people's movements as a result of the hollowness of sound and the unmoving leaves of trees. Spring flowers nestled in greening grass without bees, and their nectar hung heavily with an overripe sweetness. To the north the horizon was curtained here and there with the angular slants of rain.
Jud pulled his shirt from the sweat between his shoulder blades and squinted up at the clear sky. Turning back to the garage, he continued to pick up and pack his tools. He spent the Friday afternoon throwing away oil filters, bits of wire, packings, and discarded auto parts. When they were all away, he began to scrape the collection of grease from the floor of the garage, dumping the thick clotting in with the garbage. By midday he had the place cleaned.
He had kept putting off further work on his car until he had finally decided he did not care any longer. He still wanted to play tennis but it seemed too much of an exertion to actually do it. Besides, he did not want to talk to anyone, knowing that it was Jennifer's rejection of him that he wanted to discuss, to bemoan, to rage over. Even though he knew it would get it out instead of bottling it up inside, he did not feel like talking about it, revealing his feelings to anyone. He had done that with Jennifer, and now she had mysteriously turned on him. He was not ready to trust anyone else.
Showering, he wished there was some way to find the rapists, to free himself of the violent anger he felt, the frustration over the aftereffects of that night on the beach. If only Jennifer had reacted differently, had realized that he loved her none the less, that all men weren't like the two sub humans with their knives and debasing lust.
"Stupid bitch!" he muttered as he dried off. He caught his reflection in the partly steamed cabinet mirror, and looked into the reflection of his own eyes. He knew that he had not meant It, that the anger he held in check had broken loose. How was he to resolve things? Should he just try to forget her, to date someone else? Was it hopeless?
Pulling on a pair of jeans, he slouched at his desk. He opened his Government book and consciously moved his eyes over the lines of type and graphs, trying to turn his thoughts. He had a test in less than a week, but could not involve himself in studying.
He dropped the book back onto the desk. Maybe he should take Miss Bastrop up on her offer of tutoring. He did not want to flunk out so near graduation. She seemed like someone he could talk to without having to fear her repeating what he said or reprimanding him.
Jud went into the hall and dialed the number he had written on the inside of his notebook. After four rings he started to hang up when she answered.
"Miss Bastrop? This is Jud Kilgore from your two o'clock class…" he muttered nervously.
"Yes, Jud, what do you need?" her voice came back melodiously.
"Uh, you said if I needed help, you'd, uh, give me a hand?" he offered, startled at the warm, honey purr of her voice, isolated by the phone.
"Yes, of course. What's giving you trouble?"
"Well, you see, uh, everything I'm afraid," he confessed.
"Well… if you want to come by I'll see what I can do."
"Uh, you mean now?"
"Unless you want to make it later, or after class Monday?"
"No. Fifteen minutes?"
"Fine. See you then, Jud."
He eased the receiver down -into the cradle. Well, he told himself, you've got your evening planned. Maybe it would keep his mind off Jennifer. Maybe. He sat on his bed and began putting on his shoes.
Gillian Bastrop set the phone down and stared out the window at the blue-gray slats of rain nearing the city. Was she insane, she wondered, inviting a male student to her home? The world was not that much different that a young woman teacher could be alone with a handsome male student without risking gossip and trouble with her superiors.
Yet, he did need her help. The humidity stuck her blouse between her breasts and she tugged it free. She knew that her interest in Jud went past school work. There was a warm, masculine honesty about him tempered by gentleness, and it was seldom that she met a man that truly aroused her interests. And Alex was in Europe, and she was alone, and… Gillian pressed her eyes closed, biting down on her lower lip. What was the matter with her? She was acting like one of her students, not a mature woman. Jud was a boy, seventeen to her twenty-five. Eight years. When she had finished college he was just starting junior high. Yet, if a thirty-two year old man was interested in her there would be nothing wrong, would there?
Irritated with herself, Gillian pulled her blouse from her skirt, and moved toward the bathroom for a quick shower, unbuttoning it. Perhaps, if she freed herself of the sticky weight of the air, it would clear her head. The silver blouse fluttered to the floor behind her.
Jennifer and Deena sat on pillows, eating from the low set table in the house boat. An instrumental album played softly on the stereo and the boat swayed gently with a breeze from the approaching storm.
Deena glanced across at Jennifer, unable to find a topic for conversation that would come naturally. Jennifer ate sparsely, staring at her plate. If only she did not feel so apart from the world and people around her. If only her father was at home for her to cry on his shoulder… if only. She moved the food around absently with her fork. If only Jud had not taken her to the beach. Silently, she cursed herself for the thought. It wasn't his fault, she had gone with him more than willingly. As well, he had suffered much that night and, she knew, since then by her silence. She had wanted to speak to him, but could not as she could not bear his or any other man's touch. Hopefully, that would pass. But would it be too late for she and Jud?
"Jen?" Deena asked softly.
"Huh?" Jennifer blinked back from her thoughts.
"You want to tell me about what's botherin' you?"
"I… I don't want to burden you, Deena, with…" she trailed off, feeling stale and empty.
"I don't have any idea what it is, but I do know you'll feel better if you let it out. You can trust me, you know."
"Oh, I know that, Deena. It's only that…" and she stared down at her plate, knowing Deena was right, wanting to get rid of the cancerous memories with their guilt feeding shame. But how to start? "You know Jud?" she asked, and Deena nodded.
Moving restlessly around the room to end up at the door staring over the ocean, Jennifer recounted the Sunday night at the beach. Sitting at the table, Deena watched Jennifer's back tighten, finally relaxing as she finished with a sense of surrender. Sympathy burned at her eyes and she found her hands clutching the edge of the table.
"What do you think of me now, Deena?" Jennifer asked.
Standing, Deena saw the faint reflection of Jennifer s tear streaked face in the glass door, and felt tears fall from her own eyes. She moved to Jennifer and turned her slowly around by the shoulders.
"Jen, oh Jen, why should I think badly of you? You did nothing wrong. You and Jud were just victims of those scum. I'm only sorry for the pain and hurt it caused you," she said staring into Jennifer's widening eyes.
With a sob of relief, Jennifer embraced Deena, pressing her face into her shoulder to sob. Deena soothed her hair consolingly and wished only that she could banish all the pain.
After her crying had stopped, they sat on the edge of the bed. Deena lit a cigarette and looked at Jennifer who had laid back. The tension of her burden released, her eyes were flickering and in a moment were closed. Deena smiled at the childlike innocence of her face dabbled with the moistness of tears, and stood so as not to disturb her.
She cleared the table and washed the dishes, and then put a record on low. Outside, gray clouds were gathering on the horizon, darkening the blue of the ocean. Slipping her beach sandals off, she sat on the bed, her turquoise bikini like leaves in the quiet shadows of the room.
Untying Jennifer's canvas shoes, she slipped them off. She paused a moment as she started to lay back, caught once again by Jennifer's beauty. She would not cause her friend any distress, not after what she had told her. Jennifer needed no more shocks, no more sexual alarms. Yet, she was so beautiful that Deena felt compelled to some action. So with the greatest care so as not to disturb her, she unbuttoned the tan shirt Jennifer wore.
Deena looked at the opened shirt bordering darker tanned flesh and the paler area from the covering by bikini tops. Then, taking the bottom corner of one side between thumb and forefinger, she lifted it up to drape it across Jennifer's arm. She repeated this action with the other side and looked down at the pale cushions against the dusky body, the bikini bottom that she still wore forming a beige mounting for her torso and a succulent crowning for her long legs.
Holding her knees under her chin, Deena sat basking in the beauty of Jennifer's body and face. Finally, she reached under the mattress and brought out a clear plastic bag of finely manicured marijuana, and a packet of papers. She rolled a single slender cigarette, and returned the bag to its hiding place. Lighting the joint, she stood at the sliding door smoking it, watching the gathering storm and the dimly lit Jennifer.
Relaxed enough to sleep beside Jennifer without abusing their friendship, she opened the door to toss the roach into the water. Easing down beside Jennifer, she snuggled her head back into her pillow to enjoy the crisp, clean smell of the storm. Mumbling in her sleep, Jennifer cuddled against her side. Deena smiled, kissed Jennifer lightly on the forehead, and fell asleep.
Getting into his car, Jud had noted that the curtains of rain were much closer to town, the air humid. Gillian's door opened to his ring and she stood smiling at him for a moment. She had just showered, and her hair was wrapped up in a jade colored towel, a few amber strands curling down in front of her ears. She wore a saffron colored silk robe that clung to the contours of her still moist body. Jud felt uneasy as he always did when he was alone with a teacher, but even more so now because his eyes kept trying to hold onto the pressings of her breasts against the fabric, the nipples clear nudges, each outlined by a minute shadow.
"You'll have to forgive me, Jud, but I was just getting into the shower when you called," she said.
"Oh, I'm sorry," he fumbled nervously.
"It's nothing," she smiled. "Here, come in. I thought you might need some help after that last test."
His eyes touched the room and he fumbled an awkward reply.
Gillian noted the wide shoulders and the hug of the cords to his thighs and buttocks. This was crazy, she told herself. She was a teacher, twenty-five to his seventeen. But she felt aroused by him, and that was a rare thing for her. Too rare to pass up, she told herself. She glanced down at her robe, hesitated a moment, and loosened the sash slightly.
"Would you like a drink, Jud?" she asked, moving to the liquor cabinet.
"Well, I, uh…" he muttered, his eyes skimming over her exposed thigh as she knelt before the cabinet, looking back over her shoulder at him.
"It's the weekend. I don't think it'll hurt anything," she smiled, and leaned forward to extend a glass toward him.
His hand faltered for a moment as her robe fell away from her breasts with her movement, revealing most of one firm globe, tan as the rest of her. He wondered where she sunbathed that she had no white mark, blinked, and accepted the glass.
Gillian smiled to herself as Jud looked around for a seat His nervousness, his boyishness, was attractive. Instead of making her feel older, it had the opposite effect, and she remembered when she had been seventeen, eight fast years before. What would her reaction have been if a teacher had seduced one of her boyfriends? She almost laughed, remembering how dull the women had seemed, how quiet. Did Jud have a girl? It seemed that she had seen him with a pretty blonde several times. She dropped ice cubes into the glasses and poured.
"Here, Jud, sit on the couch," she smiled, sliding over so that her robe slid under her and pulled away from her thighs. She kept her eyes from him as he sat, raising up to rearrange the robe to cover her legs, knowing that he was watching. She leaned forward, feeling the cloth curve out again from her breasts, and picked up her drink.
Jud felt his stomach tighten with nervousness. Was Miss Bastrop just being nice, or was she trying to seduce him? He was not sure how to react. If she was just being nice and he did anything, he would risk his grade and possible trouble both at school and at home. But why else had she greeted him like she had? Maybe she had just been starting a shower and he was finding meanings he wanted to find. It did seem odd that she had offered him a drink though, and that she had not excused herself to change her clothing.
He took a sip of the drink, his eyes on the coffee table. She was beautiful, something he had never realized at school with her hair back, peering through glasses. Some quality of desirability was so like Jennifer that it made him hurt. Would it be at all like making love to Jennifer?
"What've you been doing with yourself, Jud?" she asked.
He turned his head, his thoughts interrupted, deciphering what she had said. The jade eyes stared warmly into his. There were a few lines at the corners of the eyes, but they were warm and friendly, the dark green haloed by black lashes.
"Oh, not much. Studying mostly," he shrugged, and took another drink as an excuse for silence.
Am I frightening you, she wondered.
"I wish I had more to do," she smiled. "I seem to spend a lot of time just sitting here grading papers. Of course, I've got meetings and things to go out to, but… that only takes up so much time."
"Um, yes," he offered, not knowing what to say.
"Certainly is getting warm. The humidity," she fluttered her robe. "I'll be back in a minute after I change," she smiled and stood.
He watched her cross the room, her buttocks swaying the silk, and move up the stairs and out of his line of vision. He took a long swallow, feeling the whiskey warm in his stomach, his muscles relaxing a little. He looked around, feeling that he should leave. But he would have to wait until she came back. He could not just walk out.
He glanced down to see the bulge of his genitals against the crotch of his slacks. Had she seen the slight hardening, he wondered. No, he was just horny and imagining things. Hadn't she gone to change? Imagining that this beautiful woman wanted to sleep with him. He wouldn't to sleep with Jennifer again. She had been so beautiful, he suddenly thought with a touch of sadness. That night on the beach…
He turned to see Gillian coming back down the stairs. She wore a simple, sleeveless dress of light blue cotton. The tapered bodice held her breasts as they shifted loosely beneath the cloth, and the short, pleated skirt swayed around their thighs. Her hair was still wrapped in the towel and she carried a hair brush.
Jud looked down into his half empty glass as she came back to the couch, knowing that he had been staring at the sway of her clearly braless movement. She sat down beside him, closer than before, he thought, and unfastened the towel. He glanced over to see little ringlets of down shimmering at the nape of her neck, and then her auburn hair tumbled down around her shoulders, nearly dry.
Gillian brushed her hair out, and he watched the light catch and glimmer on the fine texture. A wave of cinnamon fell down to mask her face from his, and his eyes touched the swell of her breasts against the pale blue, her nipples clear pressings. Her skirt had ridden up high on her thighs, and could see golden threads of down on the firm flesh. She tossed the hair away and turned to him.
"Would you brush out the back, Jud?" she asked, offering the brush to him. "It's so hard to reach. We'll then get down to your problems."
"Sure, Miss Bastrop," he muttered, trying to put his glass down and accept the brush without dropping either.
"Gillian, Jud," she smiled, her face pressed into her shoulder as she turned her back. "School's over for the week and you will graduate in three weeks."
He stared at the back of her head for a moment, and then began to brush out the tangle of honey and auburn. He slid his hand under her hair, palm out, and brushed down over it, feeling the misty warmth of her nape against his knuckles. He licked his lips, wondering at the warmth that seemed to hold him frozen except for the mechanical rise and fall of the brush. For what seemed an interminable length of time, he slid the bristles through the waves, static electricity lifting light hazes of hair.
"Thank you, Jud," she said as she turned around, her voice low and warm.
They sat staring at one another for a moment, each waiting for the other to make the first move. The mixture of the prestorm stillness and their body heat gave each a light sheen of perspiration upon their foreheads. But they did not move to brush it away, or to pick up their drinks. They sat listening to the ticking of a clock somewhere in the room and the occasional hum of a passing car. The tension eased their lips apart, and they sat sipping air.
There was a distant rumble of thunder, and their eyes seemed to flicker. Gillian shifted her hand in her lap. There was another peel of thunder, closer this time. Swallowing, Jud looked down at the brush held in his lap, seeing the tight press of his hardened member at the juncture of his thigh and crotch. Did she see it? Could he look up into her eyes if she was looking at it too?
Gillian felt the film of perspiration between her breasts cling at the thin cotton, and wanted to pull it away, hut her eyes lingered on the relief of his erection upon the surface of corduroy. She wanted a drink too, and realized that she was breathing deeply through the small parting of her lips.
The light was dim in the living room now, but neither was aware of it or the dark clouds rolling above. Slowly, Jud raised his eyes, hut toward the table and not Gillian. He felt embarrassed at the thought of her eyes meeting his after staring down at his crotch so long. He picked up his glass and took a sip, putting the brush down, and glanced over at her. She smiled comfortingly, and both became aware of the near darkness, as if viewing one another through diaphanous draping. They stared into one another's eyes, and she picked up her drink, lifting it to her lips without breaking the contact.
The liquor shimmering on her full lips, she slid the side of the glass over her cheek and up against her temple, feeling the refreshing coolness. Jud watched the amber tint, cast through the glass, slide over her face, heard the clink of the ice cubes, saw the faint, golden sheen where the minute down along her cheek had been moistened, and felt the glass within his tight grip.
Slowly, he slid the tip of his tongue between his lips to unseal them, and swallowed in an attempt to speak, even though he had no idea what he would say. Gillian's fingers plucked her dress from between her breasts. Suddenly, there was a violent clash of thunder that shuddered through the room, vibrating the glassware. Their eyes held for a moment, and then parted in arcs that led to the front windows. A slash of lightning broke the dimness and rain began to splatter against the window, growing heavier and faster.
"My car windows. They're down," Jud said, setting his glass on the table.
"Mine too," Gillian smiled and put her glass beside his, rings of moisture showing around them on the deep brown wood.
"I'll get yours too," he said and stood.
"No," she smiled, standing alongside him. "I'll race you. Last one in fixes the next round of drinks."
"I should be goin'," he fidgeted.
"You don't want to drive in this heavy a rain," she said.
"No, I guess not." He glanced toward the windows. We'd better get 'em closed if we're goin' to," he smiled awkwardly.
He moved to the door quickly and she was right behind him. They ran through the cooling pelter, pulling the car doors nearest them open. His windows up, Jud turned and slammed his door shut to see her heading for the steps. Relaxed from the sudden movement and the invigorating cool of the rain, he forgot his apprehensions, grinned and broke into a run, even though she was through the door.
Breathing heavily, he closed the door behind him, reducing the clatter of the rain to a steady drumming. Gillian was crouched down in front of the fireplace, striking a match. She touched it to the papers amongst the pile of limbs already there, and orange flames began to flicker, the paper turning black and curling in upon itself. She looked back over her shoulder at him with a smile, droplets of water glittering on the fall of her hair, reddened by the firelight.
"You lose, bartender," she said and stood. "Say, you really got soaked," she noted, looking at the clinging of his shirt that revealed the dark spots of his nipples.
"Yeah, you too… Gillian," he said with a nod, seeing her skirt hold to her thighs, splotches of moisture sticking the cloth to her breasts to show a trace of flesh and the outline of her hard nipples.
"You'd better get your shirt and shoes off before you catch cold," she said.
The drone of the rain and the light chatter against the windows muffled clashes of thunder. Webbings of lightning cast a pale yellow glow through the windows that joined with the flicker of the fire, shadows shifting around them. He kicked off his shoes and began to unbutton his shirt, pulling it away from his skin. He looked up to see her standing in front of him with the towel that had held her hair.
He paused and then slid the shirt off. She started to say something, but did not She reached out and began to towel his chest dry, sliding the jade cloth over his stomach and around to his back. He wondered what he should do, as the cloth eased over his shoulders, his back to her. Then she was at his sides, holding his arms between her towel wrapped hands to slide them up and down. He felt his flesh warm from the friction of her movements and from his mounting desire. He wanted to grab her to him, but doubt nagged at him yet, and an awareness that this was a woman, a woman eight years his senior, a woman with a great deal more experience than Jennifer. Would he seem an unexperienced boy to her? Why was she doing this unless she wanted him? Yet…
Light and shadow flowed over the room behind her as she stepped back to look at him. Water slid down the window panes, lightning casting undulating rectangles of light.
"Th.. thanks," he muttered.
"Want to fix those drinks?" she said In a voice sensuous and caressing, her shadowed face against the light of the fire that haloed her hair with golden flame.
Jud nodded slowly and turned to the coffee table. She watched the muscles in his back shift beneath the tanned flesh as he bent to fix the drinks. The thumb and forefinger of her right hand touched and slid up over the bodice of her dress, a knowing smile on her lips.
Pouring the whiskey, Jud glanced down at his in-distinct reflexion in the dark wood of the table. He stood back, the two glasses in his hands, and turned.
The top two buttons of her dress opened to reveal the swell of her cleavage, Gillian. looked into Jud's eyes as he stood in place, the two glasses held out in front of him. Her fingers began to move again and his eyes fell to the pluck of her fingers at the buttons. The third button slid free, and the fourth. They lingered on the fifth which was just below her breasts which nestled in the loose cloth, the succulent inner curves visible.
Jud was aware of the sounds of the rain, the thunder, the windows and the fire, but he only heard the soft click of the buttons. He felt the air he knew to be cool and the cold moistness of the glasses in his hands, but his flesh was hot.
Then the fifth button was released from its eyelet, the sixth, the seventh and the eighth. Her fingers held on the cloth belt that covered the ninth of twelve buttons.
He saw the brief illuminations of the yard beyond the window, the fall of the light through the glass, the swarm of firelight on the room around the fireplace, but only knew the V of revealed flesh, tan between blue borders.
The fingers slid the belt from the loop of the buckle. Jud wanted to put the glasses down, feeling them shift wetly against his palms. He also wanted to swallow, but he could not draw the focus of attention from the warm revelation of flesh to free the constriction of his throat. He saw the hand pull the belt back from the buckle, the metal tongue easing out of the hole, coming loose to leave the hold to Gillian's hand. Her hand eased back toward her abdomen, the fingers loosened and the belt slid loose to fall in a curve under her stomach, an inch of the stiff cloth still in the buckle.
His breath was tight and his lungs almost ached with it. Rivulets of water eased down the window panes, and the heat from the fire cast a haze on them till they were opaque. Her fingers touched the ninth button, brushed the belt free of the buckle, and opened the tenth. A wind thrashed the trees and a series of thunder claps moved away like the echo of one. With his eyes he drank in the succulent inner swells of her breasts, the firm length of her stomach, the deep cup of her navel, the delicate rise where her stomach met her abdomen, and a glimmer of auburn hairs above the eleventh button.
Gillian watched him, the intent look on his face, the sheen of moisture on his forehead, the tense muscles of his shoulders and arms, the out held glasses, the defined muscles of his stomach, and the firm outline of his sex against the cloth of his trousers. Though she kept her hand an inch from the last of the two remaining buttons, his eyes stayed upon them. She felt the warmth of her passion mix with the warmth of the whiskey and fire, but felt no urgency, no desire to hurry. There would be no interruptions, and she wanted to savor this rainy afternoon. Once he was within her it might be different, but for the moment she was enjoying the role of seductress.
Her thumbnail capped the rim of the button, and her forefinger pressed the cloth around and up. The button came free.
Jud stared at the soft ringlets of auburn. Then her hand moved back toward the twelfth button, lingered, and rose to slice it into the opening of the dress. Then it slid upward, lazing over the supple warmth of her belly, the finger hidden by the cloth. They touched the bottom of her left breast and pressed up. The full globe shifted beneath the cloth, and the nudge of her nipple trailed over it. The fingers curved and slid up over the arch to slowly manipulate it.
Jud blinked nervously against the sweat that trickled down toward his eyes. His erection was a burning throb imprisoned by his pants, his mouth a dry husk. He watched the hands cup and shift the breast beneath the cloth and then slide outward, pulling the mound of flesh with it. Her breast was free of the cloth, but covered by her hand. He tried to swallow but found he could not. He wanted a drink badly, but her hand lingered on the succulent globe.
Then the fingers began to loosen and the breast eased back into its concealment. He saw glimmerings of tan and pink, and then her hand was out from her body and the breast behind the blue veil again. Her fingertips touched between her breasts and began to trial down the center of her belly. They touched the twelfth button and it was free, and most of the auburn thicket was exposed.
Casually this time, her hand reentered the opening and slid up past her breast to her shoulder, moving the cloth away. It lingered a moment and the dress slid over her shoulder to furl down her arm. She held her hand curved over shoulder, her wrist blocking the center of the exposed breasts. Slowly, she turned back toward the fire and the breast was away from his sight.
His eyes turned and followed her till she stopped before the fire. Her arms moved and the other shoulder was bare, the cloth draping down around her waist to hold a minute and then slide down till it was held only by the richness of her hips and the jut of her derriere, the top of the cheeks and the downed valley of the cleft visible.
Jud turned and bent slowly to set one glass on the table, the soft clink of the ice loud to his ears. He raised the other glass to his lips and took a large swallow, his eyes never leaving her. She was outlined in golds and oranges from the fire, her hair scarlet. The hands shifted again and the blue dress trembled for a second, and then spilled down around her ankles like a pool of water.
Jud rubbed his moist palm over the tightness of his stomach, basking in the revealed loveliness of her body against the firelight.
"Jud?" her voice whispered across to him.
"Yes," he finally asked, clearing his throat.
"Is my drink ready."
He nodded and then spoke. She did not move. He sucked his upper lip down between his teeth to nibble at it, and then picked her glass back up from the table. He started toward her, the carpeting soft beneath his feet, and she turned.
Stopping, Jud saw her face smiling upon him, saw the play of light upon her half turned body, colors and shadows flowing over the ripe mounds of her breasts and the hard nipples, over the firm swell of her stomach, up and down the length of her legs, glimmering in the russet coils of her loins. Jud moved forward.
He stopped a foot from her, on the point of exploding, and her hand slid her drink from his grasp. She took a lingering sip, her eyes meeting his over the rim, and her other hand touched the waistband of his pants. He felt as if his flesh was burning beneath the touch of fire. Her fingers turned and his belt was loose, another turn and the snap of the cords was free.
Their eyes locked, both were aware only of her fingernails drifting over his abdomen. Then there was a chirping as his zipper slid down to reveal the flattened curls of hair and the base of his shaft. Her fingertips touched the hardened press to curl around it, and slid downward to free it from the restraint of his slacks. The hard length of flesh arched up from his belly, hot and swollen. Her hand slid around to drift her fingers under it, brushing the fine hairs of his scrotum and trailing up the raised under vein.
Jud's mouth covered hers, his tongue swimming into the warm moistness. Her fingers locked around the rigid staff, and his hands clasped the swells of her buttocks. He felt her full breasts flatten against his chest, and their breath was hard and audible against the fire and storm.
Gillian slid loose and her hands lowered his slacks as she went to one knee. Holding onto the mantle above the fireplace, Jud balanced himself to lift first one foot and then the other free. She tossed the cords into the shadows.
Jud stood looking down at her, her body golden in front of the fire. The flaming wood became a roar in his ears, and he gripped her shoulders, bending her back and laying out atop her. Their mouths joined once again, and his hands moved to cover her breasts.
The lengths of their bodies flexed and shifted against one another as the flames licked in a blend of red and orange, their rhythm dancing upon their moving flesh. This isn't Jenny, Jud thought, but loving and beautiful as Jenny had been with him. Not Jenny, but as close as I can be.
Their mouths twisted and probed, and Gillian's hands, held Jud's hips down against hers, feeling the hard jab of his mast against her thigh. His hands worked her breasts, kneading them in his palms as his thumbs and forefingers caught at the soft aureoles and the nubs of the nipples. His eyes closed and it was Jennifer beneath him, and her eyes closed and she was seventeen again.
He could taste the blend of whiskey and cola within their mouths, felt the pointed thrust of her tongue hack against his, felt her lips slide under the press of his over her teeth. She nibbled at his mouth, and arched her breasts up against his hold. The sides of their bodies toward the fire shimmered with the combination of its heat and the heat of their passion.
She felt his stomach roll against hers, and the corresponding press of his pelvis against hers. She reached down and the hardened tool was in her hand, and she rolled and squeezed it. So long and hard. He lifted up and she guided it toward her moist yearning, to slip it between her silken lips.
Her fingers were away and he worked up into her, and she bit into his lip as he went in to the hilt. Her hands curled in his hair, and his hips were rising and falling against hers.
The thunder rumbled through the afternoon and the lightning flashed, but neither of them was aware of it. There was only the joy of flesh. Flesh that dove into her cunt and flesh that gripped and held his nether arm as it dove. Breasts that yielded to the play of his hands, and nipples that burned beneath kisses and teeth. Buttocks that tightened with the piston action of their loins.
Jud rolled over, feeling as if his side was blistering from the fire, and Gillian moaned with the shifting of his shaft within her. He rolled again and came back up on top of her and she cried out as he thrust deep. His mouth took one of the yearning nipples into his mouth and he bordered it with the light press of his teeth. Gillian's stomach bunched as he sucked in, and her breast pressed out against the edges of his teeth. He felt her breast contour to the pressure, and he sucked in to pull the whole of the blossom into his mouth, 'his teeth pressing in toward one another. Gillian moaned, feeling her nipple and breast being separated and her eyes shimmered with pain that he did not know he was causing. Yet, she did not cry out or move away. She took the pain as some payment for her indiscretion as long as she could. Then she cried out, and Jud released the softness. The beat of his prod became a staccato drumming and Gillian squirmed beneath him, ecstasy washing over her.
Jud opened his eyes, and in the shifting half light of the room it was Jennifer beneath him, Jennifer moaning and clutching at his manhood In the corolla of her chalice. It was Jennifer beneath him whom he loved and who loved him. And he raised up on his arms and dove down into her, thrusting the back of his shaft along the kernal of her passion, pressing the head against her womb, and returning along the same route.
He slid his knees up and moved his hands under the tightened softness of her flanks, working his fingers in the juncture of the cheeks and the backs of her thighs. She bucked up against him, driving him fully in, and he began to revolve his hips, rolling the base of his tool along the rim of her moist cove.
Her lips pulled open with a gasp and tears sparkled in her eyelashes. She thrust and squirmed against the reel of her senses beneath his fingers and prod. A climax slammed into her and lifted her upon its crest, and her cry was so high that neither heard it against the storm and fire. And she twitched loose of it, her mind tumbling down. Yet, Jud kept plowing in and she quivered, held in the undertow.
It was Jennifer who he loved, that he now spun spirals of lust for, but it was also the Jennifer who had hurt him that he drove down into with an angered lust He pushed his knees under her buttocks and clasped her knees, all the while driving down in the misted slides. Sensation mounted and blossomed from his loins but he locked his muscles against it. He leaned back, sliding his hands down her thighs to pull her against his thrust, and her torso rolled from side to side, her hands clutching at the pile of the carpet.
Lightning flashed nearby and pale yellow glowed on the two figures in the dimness of the room. Jud pushed up off his knees, pulling her hips from the floor by his grip on her legs. Standing on legs bent at the knee, he held her body up from the carpet, the weight on her shoulders.
Gillian's head whipped back and forth, her hair splashing over her face unnoticed as his ramrod drove down into her up tilted nook. It kept coming and she was swirling again, her thighs quaking with the blaze of eruption. She was unaware of the weight upon her shoulders. Suddenly, Jud leaned forward, bending her thighs toward her body, and he dropped full into her opened passage.
Gillian cried out, and the sound blended with the thunder as Jud spasmed up and down, his loins twitching. Then he came, his body bowing back at the engulfing quakes that slashed up from their union. He groaned and his face mirrored the cauldron that he flayed within, that suddenly dropped him back to sanity.
They tumbled away from one another, gasping. Their breaths finally eased and they lay staring at the patterns of light at play upon the ceiling. There was no emotional union to draw their tired, satiated flesh together, and they finally fell asleep.
The thunder and lightning died away by five, and the rain slacked to a steady drumming. The logs in the fireplace broke and the fire went out, leaving the two nude figures in near darkness.