Reading this, you can almost picture the typist sitting at his desk, with a pile of misnomered Collector's Publications at hand, trying to make a go of it. Too bad he was stuck with the Brandon House guidelines. There are trampolines.
Stephanie said, “Ummm.” Her fingers went to the buttons of her
blouse. “What clothes?”
I seized her roughly and was about to kiss her half silly when my
right hand was taken in a peculiar grasp that bent the thumb back
almost to the elbow. When I attempted to pull away, I found that I
struggled against myself, and her steely little fingers dug into the
tender web between thumb and forefinger.
“Let's go outside, lover,” she whispered.
We stopped before the trampoline. It glistened in the moonlight like
a taut satin sheet, but the springs and frame that surrounded it
reminded me unpleasantly of bizarre torture implementae.
“You're silly, you know, Peter, but really rather dear.” She kicked
off her shoes and mounted the trampoline. “Now take off your shoes and
get up here.”
It was like walking in a tipsy dream. The expanse of canvas was huge,
larger by a few feet than that of a boxing ring, and the tension was
subtle, firm yet yielding, like walking through Jello on the moon.
Stephanie smote me, very nicely, hip to thigh. “Now hold me like we
It was impossible not to bounce with her.
I was in mid-air when she kissed me and we both lost all sense of
footwork. We came down on our sides, rolled, bounced, held tighter,
bounced a few times as one, screeching with laughter.
Stephanie rolled me over and sat on my backside as if I were a bench.
“Isn't it a simply wonderful world?” she asked. “Go get the brandy,
It seemed like a very good idea. Three brandy snifters-full later,
Stephanie shucked out of her Capris and blouse, and slipped into the
pool. She wore brief white eyelet silk panties, and a silk bra, and
when I splashed water on those garments, they turned to transparent
gossamer. The tiny, pokey nips of her breasts stuck out darkly, but she
was obviously a natural champagne blonde... or did her dye job really
extend? In less than a trice, I was out of my own togs, all the way
down to jockey shorts. But due to the nature of the entertainment, I
deemed it prudent to immerse myself instantly. It helped some, but you
could sure as hell tell I was male, still.
There's something about a girl in wet lingerie in the soft dusky
darkness of a California night that is vastly more intriguing than that
same girl in a garment designed specifically for swimming. I offer this
thought free to Cole and Catalina and Jantzen in the faint hope that
they will bring out a line of swim wear that, while hiding the approved
taboo areas, will suggest negligee. At least, it would make for some
wonderful court fights.
We dragged the trampoline over to the pool's edge and invented a
glorious game that consisted of sipping, bouncing, kissing, and Into
The Drink Together... snifters and all.
“I like you, Mr. Evans,” she announced as we towelled off on my shirt
enough to share a cigarette. “You're so rich and nutsy and available. I
hate stuffy, unavailable poor people, don't you?”
I snapped her bra thoughtfully once or twice, preparatory to taking
it off, and bent to suck at her nipples through the sheer nylon. “We'll
live on love,” I muttered between nips, “and have a thousand laughs.”
She smelled of lavender and chlorine, and I thrust my tongue into the
cleft made by her full breasts where her bra thrust them together.
“Where did your money come from, Peter?” Stephanie pushed me away and
tugged her shockingly brief panties into a temporary semblance of
“Just plain old blue-chip investments, honey,” I said, taking her
elbow in my mouth, and throwing one of my tanned hairy thighs over her
two smooth white ones. “You wouldn't be interested.”
She considered this for a moment, then snatched my cigarette out of
my mouth and kissed me briefly before she wriggled free. “No, I suppose
I wouldn't, just so it's there,” she said.
I unhooked her bra and slipped it off, so as to study better the
fierce upward thrust of her boobs. She set down her drink and stood up,
and I thrust my face into the soft flesh of her small round belly and
ran my tongue around in her beautiful navel as my busy hands slipped
her panties down below her knees, sliding over the satin-smooth skin of
her rump and down her long, creamy thighs.