Lyle Montagne stared across the table at Boss Carl.
"When do you think she'll wake up, Carl?" he said in a concerned tone.
"Take it easy, baby," the big kink-magnate said with a crooked grin. "It won't be long now, and we found out everything we need to know. She's a prime candidate for the Xylotrope plot."
"It's going to be rough," the movie star said in a grave manner, "don't you think we ought to tell her what it's going to involve?"
"We will, baby – we will – but first I want to put her through one more test. If she's going to fit into our operation, she has to be the best. No questions, no doubts – she has to be the absolute best. I've screened seventy-five girls for this spot and I don't want to make any mistakes."
Lyle Montagne had a worried look. "Carl, don't you think that some of your refugee regulars – maybe the redhead with the horse…"
"No!" Boss Carl cut him off. "There ain't a chance in a million that an ordinary nightclub performer could do the trick. It has to be somebody special; besides, it has to be somebody that the Xylotrope people can't connect with me."
"Remember, we gotta sneak her into the plant without anybody knowin' what's goin' on."
The two men tossed off the last of their stiff drinks and made their way through the crowded Phylogem Club to the back room.
Lenny Morgan was just awakening when the two men came in.
"Hi!" she said, rubbing at her eyes. "Did everything go all right?"
Lyle sat beside her on the couch and took her head into his hands. "It went perfect, baby," he said reverently. "I mean, you were just beautiful." He kissed her almost tenderly on the lips.
Lyle Montagne knew what was in store for her next.
"Okay Trixie," Boss Carl boomed in a businesslike voice, "are you ready for the next test?"
"Another test?" Lenny asked, annoyed. "When do I find out what part I'm trying out for?"
"It won't be long, chickie," Boss Carl answered shortly. "Until then, why you just have to hang on and do your best. I can tell you this, though – the next test is the last."
"Well…" Lenny put her thoughts into words, "that's good to know anyhow."
Boss Carl helped her into her clothes, occasionally letting a rough hand fall where it shouldn't. Then, the three of them left the Phylogem Club and rode toward the East Village in a black limousine.
Lenny noticed that the chauffeur never showed his face, his collar was turned up and he allowed himself only to glance into the rear-view mirror occasionally. It seemed odd, but she made no comment. Boss Carl gave the strange driver his orders through a speaking tube.
"Take us to Louie's," Boss Carl ordered.
The car swerved and sped up a side street. Lenny noticed that the neighborhood was exceptionally run down. She made no comment. It seemed to her that Boss Carl had a lot of contacts in this kind of area – it seemed that he transacted much of his business in the underworld as a matter of fact.
As she had so often been told, Boss Carl was no ordinary businessman.
The limousine finally pulled up in front of a truly notorious looking tenement. Lenny wondered how the rich and influential Lyle Montagne felt about hanging around in this kind of place. In her experience, the only people who lived in this type of shack were either junkies or winos.
Nevertheless, she assented to climb the rickety stairs and enter the dim apartment that Louie – what he was – called home.
It was a miserable hovel, the dingy apartment slandered even further by the lack of housekeeping. Bottles and dirty magazines lay about on the floor everywhere. There was no sign of human life.
"Louie!" Boss Carl yelled. "Where the hell are ya, ya bum?"
They heard a muffled groan from the other room. In a few minutes a sleep-grogged figure appeared wearing pajamas that must have been white at one time – but were now completely grey.
"Okay Louie," there was a very real sense of threat in Boss Carl's voice now, "where's the beast?"
"What?" The man was fat and bald, with a certain confused air that one most often associates with those who imbibe heavily during the daylight hours. "Wha' ya wan' da beest fo'?"
"Don't sweat the reasons, ya drunken bum…" Boss Carl's stem voice seemed to have a marked effect upon the man, "we ain't here to screw around, Louie, we got a live one here."
Louie's hither to bleary eyes became suddenly alert. He swung his gaze quickly toward Lenny. "She's a real looker, Boss, I'll say that. Ya thin' she'll work out?"
"I dunno, Louie – you're the one who'll have to be the judge of that."
Lenny was surprised at this revelation, she could not for the life of her see what this fellow, Louie, had that was of value to the influential Boss Carl. The whole thing somehow excited her. It was so mysterious and unusual. She began to realize that she was involved in something bigger than a simple nightclub act – precisely what that something was still remained a mystery to her.
Louie led them down a set of even more rickety stairs to the basement. It was entered through a heavy locked door. Lenny noted that the door was in poor repair, needing a coat of paint even more than the rest of the tenement house. But she did not expect what was behind that door.
They descended into a large, plush room – almost the size of the main dining room of the Phylogem Club. She gasped as she saw the walls were decorated entirely in thick red velour with gold trimmings and elaborate paintings of an exceptionally erotic nature.
"This," Boss Carl announced to her proudly, "is my private showing room. In here, the true elite of the exotic appreciators seek the ultimate in performance… and, I might say, get their money's worth!"
The three men led the lovely blonde woman to a dais made up of plush red cushions and a large harness arrangement somewhat similar to that used by the redhead in the Phylogem Club.
"Gee!" Lenny exclaimed in awed tones. "This place is really groovy. I mean, I think it's the most fabulous thing that I've ever seen!"
"I'm sure it is, Lenny." Lyle seemed to be by far the kindest of the three men. He smiled at Lenny as though she were a little girl on Christmas morning. "Would you like to work here, young lady?"
"Would I ever!" she exclaimed excitedly, "This would be a dancer's dream!"
Louie nodded in agreement, then slapped his hands together twice. The gesture reminded Lenny of movies she had seen of Arabian princes and their harem girls. She was not surprised to see a bevy of gorgeous women hustling out to do the master's bidding.
"Set it up for number one," Louie ordered.
The girls stared at him as though in disbelief.
The tallest of them and apparently the leader spoke in respectful, but doubting, tones. "You didn't say, NUMBER ONE?"
"That's right, chickie," Boss Carl snapped impatiently. "He said number one."
The tall girl whirled without another word and started to hustle the others around. They seemed to be very well drilled in this exercise, despite their expressed surprise at Louie's request.
Lenny noted that these girls were, if anything, more attractive than the ravishing beauties she had seen working in the Phylogem Club. They were dressed in harem outfits, with scanty tops that revealed almost everything but the nipples.
The panties were made of a veil-like material that allowed one to see the fur of their pubic areas quite clearly. The long, billowing pantaloons were made of an even filmier substance that showed off the perfect flesh of each girl's long and shapely legs.
They were setting something up, but it was not immediately clear to the gorgeous Lenny what that something was.
She stood between Lyle and Boss Carl, almost hypnotized by the efficient and graceful preparations of the harem girls. She realized suddenly that their every move seemed to be part of an elaborate and beautiful dance without music. These women were extraordinarily talented!
"What are they doing?" Lenny chose to direct her question to Lyle Montagne, who seemed to be the most easy-going of the men.
He looked at her sternly and spoke as though she had broken some kind of rule. "You'll known soon enough."
There was a rumbling and rustling in the wings. Lenny saw the great scarlet curtains flowing and trembling as some large activities stirred the otherwise quiet air behind them.
Two of the harem girls emerged. They were leading the strangest and most exotic looking animal that Lenny Morgan had ever seen.
It was a giant sloth.
The strange and clumsy beast was dressed in a sailor suit, with a small cap strapped to its heavy head. Lenny had never seen such an animal before. It moved with a tremendous reluctance, as though it preferred sleep to any kind of movement whatsoever. This in fact, as any zoologist would testify, was the case. The giant sloth is the slowest and most reluctant of all creatures that trod the face of this planet. He spends far and away the majority of his time suspended upside-down from a tree-limb.
What he does in this position, few people have been able even to conjecture. Some scientists would tell us that he sleeps – but what mammal needs twenty-four hours of sleep a day?
Louie, despite his slovenly appearance, was apparently quite an expert on nature. He began to explain to the dumbfounded Lenny.
"That animal," he began in gruff, but scholarly tones, "is da most unarousable of all species. He ees da dumbest and most immovable fibing objek in all da woild. I mean it, Miss Morgan, to get that f-dding best to enjoy segsooal entorcourse ees nigh unto empossible."
Lenny, who despite her lack of education was rather a bright young woman, detected for the first time the hint of a foreign accent in Louie's voice. She realized suddenly that his lower-class accent was a put-on. Once, Lenny had known a pimp who had disguised his French accent by talking in a tough, almost unintelligible Bronx dialect. He had been so enthusiastic about becoming an American – and so embarrassed by his foreign accent, that he covered it up by speaking like a bum.
"Eet ees oonlikaly, Miss Morgan," the tough and sloppy Louie went on, "that you will be able ta arouse thees Goddomb beast. He ees named 'Droopy', becos uv his nadaral hobit ov follink azleep on da jop."
Boss Carl was eyeing Lenny in a peculiar and suspicious manner. She had to avert her eyes from his gaze, because it made her extremely nervous.
"Look," the informative Louie went on, "dis beast am a begatatian fo da most part. He just lies arount and eet da leefs from da Goddomb trees. I mean, booby, he don' dig ta make luf – god me?"
Despite her difficulty in following his unusual speech patterns, Lenny nodded – she got the gist of what he was saying anyway.
This animal was not a natural lover. He had to be coaxed.
"Da whot dey got in zoos," Louie was gnnnmg evilly now, this was obviously what he regarded as a supreme test of seductive talent, "dos slods, dey don't eben maade so good wid each udder en der own species. Ya understant wad I mean?"
"I'd understand better if you didn't try to hide your accent in that garble of yours." Lenny snapped these words out suddenly, despite herself she was becoming impatient with Louie's clumsy disguise.
A wide grin suddenly broke across Boss Carl's face.
"Dynamite!" he cheered, "you are one sharp chick, Lenny! And the job I got calls for relatively quick thinking – so you just racked up one more point – you were right on about the accent. What else can you tell us about? I mean, baby, what have you got Louie figured for by now?"
Lenny eyed the dumpy, balding foreigner for a moment then grinned. "I think he's French. That accent is just a cover up – so people will think he's a dumb dock worker or something like that. No. He doesn't even want people to think he's a dock worker – a dock worker could be smart, he could know something and could be working for somebody besides the union. He wants everybody to think he's a wino – that's why he keeps his apartment such a bloody Goddamned mess, and that's why he's got all those bottles strewn around. I'd bet a night's salary that he doesn't drink half of them."
Lyle Montagne smiled the smile that made him a star of the silver screen; he was growing to like this spunky, young woman more and more. "What would you say, Lenny, if I told you he doesn't drink any of them, at all?"
"I'd say you were lying," Lenny responded without hesitation, "because he has to have wine on his breath all the time – otherwise people would begin to wonder."
Boss Carl raised his eyes and nodded at Montagne.
"This," he said in a quiet voice, "is one helluva smart piece of snatch."
Lenny could not keep from smiling and blushing with pride – she sensed that that odd comment was extremely high praise from the gruff owner of the Phylogem Club.
"You are right, mon cherie, I am not a wino. I am Frensh as you have guesed. But now you sheel tell to me what you think I am doing foaire a profession."
"Well…" Lenny was perplexed for a moment, she almost wished that she had not been so presumptuous as to criticize his accent. "… I… I don't know, exactly…" she sensed that all eyes were on her. To fail to come up with something good at this crucial point might mean the loss of the lucrative position for which she was being so rigidly tested. Fortunately, she had a sudden and unexpected insight. "Wait! Of course, it all makes sense. You don't want anyone to think that you are even conscious half the time – that must be because you really are sharp – you must be a very important and intelligent man. Perhaps people would even recognize your name if they heard it. The dumb accent covers up an obviously extensive knowledge – maybe you have a specialty…"
The three men nodded and smiled at one another, very plainly impressed. Lenny glanced back at the sloth and thought of Louie's description of the animal. It had been casual and the grammar had been atrocious – but he seemed to know an uncommon lot about the rare creature. So that's it, she thought triumphantly, it all fits together when you think about it!
"I know," she cried out excitedly, "Louie is some kind of scientist – one that specializes in animals – what did you call it?"
"A zoologist," Lyle grinned in explanation, "that's it all right, baby. You hit the proverbial nail right on the head. Louie is an expert on all types and species of animals. He was, at one time, the world's most famous authority on the sexual behavior of the primitive mammal. For that reason, he has been hired by us."
"Us?" Lenny was somewhat doubtful.
"Yeah, chickie," Boss Carl grumbled, "us. But we'll explain all that later. Bein' quick on your feet ain't enough for this assignment. Ya gotta pass another test. A physical test."
Filled with new doubts about her ability to meet their requirements, Lenny turned once more to eye the sloth. "You want me to – to make love to that thing – uh – to Droopy?"
"More than that, baby," Boss Carl growled harshly, "this ain't no simple test – we know you can do that stuff, already. We want to see if you got real talent. Anybody can screw a sloth – hell, even that redheaded horsefucker, Audre, could get a rise out of Droopy here."
Lenny searched the faces of the three men, searching for a clue to the nature of the next test. It was becoming unbearably suspenseful for her. She knew that this was the final and most important of all the examinations she had gone through this would decide once and for all whether she would get the attractive and mysterious position.
"All right, Boss Carl," she murmured, "whatever it is, I'm ready and eager to get on with it. Tell me what you want me to do."
Louie took her by the arm and led her toward the dias.
"Leesten," the balding Frenchman purred softly, "mon petite choux I wan' you to do whataiver come eento yoaire mind – thees test eet ees foair to see what you can do on yoaire own. We will gif to you a numbair of animols ant you weel do wid them veary interesting things, no?"
Lenny simply nodded. She would try her best.
The fat and dirty zoologist clapped his hands together three times. The harem girls moved again in graceful, dancelike efficiency.
Two of the lovely and scantily attired women brought on a cage containing several monkeys. These little animals squealed and scampered about their cages with restless energy.
Another of the harem girls produced a large, white goat on the end of a tether, which she attached to a golden post in the center of the stage.
Still another beauty sauntered provocatively out onto the dais with a young pony. This lovely little animal had blue ribbons decorating its long mane.
Lenny was somewhat startled to see the tall woman, who was the leader of the harem, marching in stately solemnity onto the dais – with a huge boa constrictor wrapped about her body. This woman was truly a gorgeous specimen of the female of the human species. She had long black hair that flowed down her back almost to the waist. Her skin was of a dark hue, almost that of the gypsies, her black eyes flashed fire at Lenny – expressing a kind of professional jealousy and a challenge at the same time. This rare beauty was testing her also!
All of the harem girls, with the exception of the dark and exotic leader, sprang gracefully from the stage and assembled around the base in a semi-circle.
They sat cross-legged, in the lotus position. Their arms were crossed and their faces blank of all expression. They too, were waiting to be impressed.
The leader of the harem girls stood, with her legs spread wide, at center stage. It was almost as though she were daring Lenny to usurp her position there.
Lenny almost panicked. Was she expected to throw that remarkable gypsy-woman from the stage by sheer physical force?
Lyle stepped up beside Lenny and Louie.
"This," he said in soft, introductory tones, "is Lenora, the leader of the harem. She will assist you in your performance. You are fortunate, Miss Morgan, for she is the very best in the business…"
Lenny tossed her long blonde hair back over her shoulder and nodded to the striking, dark-skinned woman. She thought of asking Lyle why this gorgeous creature had not been chosen for the "assignment", as Boss Carl called it, but Lenny thought better of it, it would not do to ask unnecessary questions at this point. Her main concern now was simply to pass the peculiar test that had been arranged for her.
Louie, with some of the French gentleman still in him despite his guttersnipe clothes, helped Lenny up onto the dais. Then the men settled on cushions and lit up a pipe, which they passed around among themselves. The sweet smell that wafted up on the stage told Lenny that it was marijuana.
"Good luck, my lovely blonde friend," Lenora whispered to the anxious Lenny, "you are going to need it."
"My – my name is Lenora too," Lenny whispered by way of an introduction, "but my friends all call me Lenny."
The dark woman managed a cold smile, "perhaps the name will give you luck," she said in a distant voice, "it is a name that carries a great deal of respect around here – see if you can earn it."
Then Lenora clapped her hands and music began to fill the room. All fights seemed to darken as if by magic. Only the dais itself was bathed in a soft red light. Lenny could barely make out the men who sat before her in the audience chamber. They were mere shadows that were difficult to see in the glare of the lighting that shone directly into her eyes.
Lenora stepped back in rhythm to the pulsing music, she was obviously going to offer advice – she was waiting for Lenny to take over the exotic ritual.
For a moment, Lenny stood in the center of the stage – staring out into the darkness. She was filled with self-doubt and fear. For this brief interval, she genuinely wished that she had not answered the tempting advertisement. Right at this point, she wished desperately that she were back on the stage of some dingy discotheque – tearing her clothes off for the leering customers.
Then she felt her old confidence return. Why the hell shouldn't she be able to do this? Her body was better than any woman's in the city – she could dance – she was not afraid to perform exciting acts with the animals – not with any of them would she have fears. Except, she thought with an involuntary shudder, perhaps with that ugly and slimy snake!
"Shitsakes!" she said out loud, resolving to overcome even that hurdle. "I'm ready."
She stared out into the darkness, she could not make out her audience of men and harem girls now – they were obscured by a rising cloud of marijuana smoke. It created eerie patterns in the red spotlights. Jumping high in the air and performing a graceful turn, Lenny faced the monkey cage first of all.
Somebody, somewhere, turned up the volume of the music system. The tune was strangely unfamiliar – it was oriental and vaguely atonal. But she had no trouble picking out the syncopated drive of the drums.
With an exaggerated motion of her hips, the young dancer moved determinedly toward the monkey cage. She began to caress it, stroking the bars teasingly – as though they themselves were phalli that might rise and begin to throb with passionate desire.
As she danced, Lenny began to warm up to the project; she was becoming excited by the music and the sensually intoxicating environment. She pressed her hips against the cage, rubbing her loins against it.
The monkeys were frightened at first by this intrusion; they huddled in the far corner of the cage and became entirely silent. Their faces were almost human now, expressing a kind of concern and even disapproval of the peculiar goings-on.
By this time, Lenny had a pretty good idea of the nature of her test. She had to excite each of these strange animals in turn, and perform a sexual act with them. By this method, she would be sure to fire even the coldest member of the audience to absolute orgasm by the completion of the extensive performance.
Now she began to remove her clothes – it occurred to her that if she could perform in a mini-skirt and blouse – it would be nothing to excel in the erotic dances later on, when she could expect a costume of the sensual proportions of the harem outfits.
She first slipped out of her shoes, holding each one aloft as though it were an offering to some God of sexual excess. Then she cast them into the audience – heedless of where they might fall – heedless of ever recovering them again. Lenny Morgan was abandoning herself completely to the provocative rhythms of the music.
Now she ripped each stocking right down her leg with a graceful sweeping of her long-nailed hands. The bare flesh gleamed through the nylon like smooth red plastic.
She moved her hips toward the audience, tearing the stockings even more, so that the bare flesh was forced to the fore – no longer resembling plastic – the bared legs looked like an image from someone's wet dream. Pulsing red flesh, coursing with boiling hot blood.
She twirled primly away from the audience then, and bent to undo her garters. She knew that it was more arousing to tease them somewhat at first. They did not have to see her unfasten the stockings – they had only to see her cheeks bulging sensually beneath the tight panties.
Now the stockings fell away from her legs, floating like ribbons to the floor. She leapt high into the lights, spreading her legs into a ballet-leap that sent the tattered ribbons of the stockings flowing like banners from her feet. She felt like the winged Mercury, soaring weightlessly through space.
When the gorgeous dancer landed again on the plush red cushions of the dais, she bent to pull one stocking free of her lovely foot. She turned toward the monkey cage, allowing her graceful motions to become more strident. Now she was the image of the siren; the determined destructive seductress.
Her hand brought the stocking out before her face at arm's length – she kissed it and then let her arm fall in a stiff arc to her crotch. She shoved the stocking under her skirt and rubbed it into her cunt; forcing the nylon down into her panties until it showed only as a visible bulge between her legs, under the skirt.
Then Lenny turned again to face the audience. She had the mysterious smile on her face that was always there when she abandoned herself to the sexual dance. It was like some exotic and lovely bird, prancing through a mating ritual. The energy of her performance was directed unmistakably to a consummation in sexual activity.
With a scream of delight and triumph, Lenny reached suddenly under the pleat of her skirt and pulled the stocking out into the open. She waved it around in the air and kissed it repeatedly.
Lenny now moved to the very edge of the dias and peered meaningfully out at the dark forms that were Boss Carl and his two associates. She grinned coarsely and kissed the stocking once again.
"Lucky…" she began in a sing-song whisper, "… lucky, lucky, lucky stocking…" her voice rose, "Stocking! I love you for the place you have been! I love you for the lips that you have brought my kiss…" then lower, "lovely, lucky stockings… smell of my desire… smell of my desire…"
Lenny whirled and moved to the monkey cage. She opened it and stood for a moment with the stocking in her hand. She ran it quickly down between her legs again, rubbing it against her crotch vigorously. Then, she handed the stocking remnant into the monkey cage. A monkey stared at it for a second, then took it and sniffed it eagerly. The little animal smelled desire in the sheer folds of nylon. He began to screech and squeal. He bounced around excitedly, holding the stocking up for his fellows to see.
They all agitated and yelped, passing the scented nylon from one tiny hand to the other.
Meanwhile, Lenny had removed still the other stocking and rubbed it generously into the flowing juices of her hot cunt. She kissed this stocking in the same manner and handed it to the monkeys.
They were transported by monkey-passion. They leapt from their cage and swarmed excitedly around the strange woman who tempted them so.
The voluptuous blonde dancer reached down and picked up one of the monkeys, picked him up as a woman might hold a baby to her breast for nursing. The lively little creature prodded and probed with his tiny hands at her blouse, searching for her breasts.
Another of the monkeys leapt high in the air, perching for a moment on Lenny's left hand, which extended out from under the nursing monkey's bottom. With a screech of joy, the second monkey hooked his tail around her wrist and swung nimbly down. He suspended himself from her arm at the level of her crotch. Eagerly, the little fellow clawed at the skirt in a vain attempt to reach under it and get at the source of the delicious sex-scent.
The music was reaching a kind of a crescendo now. Lenny laughed aloud and pulled at the front of her skirt with the hand from which the second monkey hung – as she brought her hand up with the edge of the mini-skirt gripped tightly between her slender fingers, the little animal managed to get his hand underneath the clothes and begin to probe and pull at the elastic waistband of the panties.
Light laughter rose in the darkened audience – for, each time the monkey managed to pull the waistband away from her body, it snapped back into place with a definite "thwap"! The poor primate was completely frustrated in his ambitions, and he began to cry in a high, eunuchoid voice.
Smiling benevolently, Lenny reached kindly down and pulled the waistband open with her other hand, holding the nursing monkey to her bosom with her elbows.
The crotch-hungry rhesus finally managed to get his head in under the elastic waistband, where he chewed and lapped at the abundant woman-juices.
The two other monkeys were beginning to feel left out. They had tired of playing with the stockings and now turned to each other for fulfillment. In an amazing show of cooperation, the two little lemurs pulled energetically at each other's tiny penises. The infinitesimal organs grew stiff and hard, like stout red nipples.
The same reaction could be seen on the part of the rhesus' member. It poked out between his legs where he hung, growing to a full length of perhaps an inch and a half. He sang for monkey-joy as he nibbled at Lenny's cunt. Then, quite suddenly, he came in a chorus of screeches and cries. He locked both of his arms around her leg and held on in a tight enraptured embrace, spilling a tiny trickle of come down over her lovely knee.
Lenny saw the little animal climax and lowered him gently to the ground, where he sat heavily on his bottom and tried to catch his breath.
Lenny now turned her attention to the monkey, also a rhesus, cradled in her arms. He had managed to get into her blouse by unbuttoning a couple of buttons with his tiny hand, now he was kissing and nibbling at the breasts with great enthusiasm. She took him to the edge of the dais and set him down on his back, placating him by stroking his belly gently.
With an elaborate and gracefully smooth gesture, Lenny reached down under her skirt and snuggled her fingers up into her gaping, wet cuntmouth. She played with her fingers there for a while, simultaneously rubbing the little creature's tummy with her free hand.
Then, she pulled her hand from her well of desire and touched it gently to the monkey's face. He clutched at it and began to lap and kiss the fingers furiously. With a cry of delight, Lenny reached down along the little fellow's belly and began to stroke his penis.
It stood fully erect, she was able to grasp it between her thumb and index finger and rub it vigorously. The monkey shivered and trembled with excitement, clutching even more tightly to the scented fingers in front of his face.
With a chortling cry of release, the small creature expelled a spurting of sperm. His whole body tensed and thrashed momentarily, then he curled up and went to sleep.
Lenny began to dance around the masturbating lemurs now; kissing and licking the monkey's come from her delicate fingers. In a short while, they too came and crawled back to their cage, exhausted.
With tenderness, Lenny picked each of the rhesus monkeys up and placed them back into the cage, closing the door carefully behind them.
Now she went on with her stripping. First, peeling the blouse slowly from her breasts – just as the nipples came into view – she whirled away from the audience. She knelt facing the rear of the dais and pulled the open blouse down over the soft, smooth flesh of her shoulders.
With a subtle gesture, Lenny beckoned the dark gypsy girl to come to her. Doing as Lenny instructed her, the harem leader knelt before the blonde woman and kissed each breast reverently, then she helped Lenny slip the blouse down over the shoulders and off the smooth-skinned body. That garment was given to the bearded white goat – which proceeded to eat at it voraciously.
Lenny eyed the harem woman carefully, calculatingly. Then she commanded: "Kiss me, kiss my neck and back and shoulders! Excite those bastards out there!"
The gypsy grinned, her dark eyes flashed with a new fire – it was obvious now to Lenny that this girl liked any and all kinds of sex.
She caressed Lenny with genuine passion, kissing the soft sensitive areas of her neck with a skill born of much experience. Her fingers traced repeated lines along Lenny's curvaceous flanks.
"Kiss my shoulders, gypsy!" Lenny commanded in a voice that rose high above the pulsating music. "Motherfuck it, you gorgeous gypsy whore! I want you to really turn me on!"
The gypsy girl was fired by the almost angry demands; she accelerated her motions – still keeping a rhythm with the music. Her busy lips were doing a kind of double-time now, nibbling and brushing boldly at the incredibly perfect flesh that adorned the well-built body of Lenny Morgan.
Her dark hair caressed the fascinating flanks while she tongued the flesh just behind the jutting breasts. Lenny began to rock back and forth on her haunches, excited beyond her wildest dreams by the attentions of this striking black-haired beauty.
Boss Carl shuffled in his seat; he was fighting against his own growing excitement. In his mind, this was a deadly serious business. He could not yield his passions to anything but the most irresistible assault.
Lyle Montagne turned his face toward Boss Carl for a moment. The expression on his handsome face was one of rapidly disappearing self-control. His tan had faded beneath an excited flush and beads of sweat broke out on the furrows of his brow.
"Carl," Lyle said with a strained voice, "I… I think she's got something. A… a real quality…"
"I dig," Boss Carl snarled, desperately trying to maintain control of his violently aroused system. "I sure as all hell dig what you say, but, man, we got to be sure. Let's see what she does with the rest of the menagerie."
Lyle shifted again in his seat. As his eyes swung back to the stage he caught his breath. The dark-skinned harem woman was stripping off her halter, revealing breasts almost as fantastic as Lenny's. She was fondling them ravishingly as she kissed and nibbled at the bared torso of Lenny Morgan.
Lyle Montagne, man of the world, famous actor, and connoisseur of erotica – Lyle Montagne had to admit to himself that he had never seen such a beautiful pair of women in his entire lifetime. And more! Those two exquisite women were performing with an abandon that just could not be found anywhere else in the world.
"Carl," he said in hushed, awed tones, "Carl, if it gets any better… if it even stays as good as it has gone so far… well… so help me… I'm going to come in my pants."
"I hope so," Carl snorted, "because if we don't all come in our collective pants, then Lenny Morgan is a dead girl."