Harriet Daimler - Darling

Gloria accepted a drink and sat down to talk with some of last year' s friends. A few of them had been divorced, and a few had been married. Next year, roles would be reversed. Nothing had really happened, but they were all filled with the false importance of the winter' s events. She took another drink.

The evening went on, and Gloria got drunker and drunker until she thought it might be a good idea to pick up a big fat book and break all the glasses in all the hands in the room. She was searching for the right book when a young man walked over to her and said, " I think your glass is empty."

" Isn' t that a tragedy."

" Would you like another drink?" he asked.

" No," she said. " As a matter of fact, I' d like something to eat. I haven' t had anything all day."

" Wait here a minute," he told her.

She forgot him until he reappeared and took her by the elbow.

" I' ve got a few ham sandwiches in my pockets," he whispered. " But let' s get out of here and eat them on the beach."

The smoke in the room was getting thick as rubber and she was happy to leave. They walked quietly to the water, the modest sand dunes rising in front of them.

" Love among the dunes," she sang.

He said, " What?"

" Could I have the sandwich now?" she said. " I' m very hungry."

" Oh sure," he agreed, fumbling with the food in his pockets. " I' m sorry."

Gloria bit voraciously into the bread, but as soon as she started to chew, she discovered the dryness of her throat. She tried to swallow and almost choked.

" What' s the matter?" her companion asked.

She spat the bread out. " Sorry, my throat is like parchment."

" Wait here," he said again, and disappeared into a nearby house.

She sat on the sand, listening to the waves dashing on the other side of the dunes. He was back in an instant with two bottles of beer and his raincoat.

" Better to sit on," he explained, pointing to the coat.

" You think of everything."

He stopped and looked at her for a while with his sympathetic and knowing eyes. Then he said, " Take it easy."

" What do you mean?" Gloria countered.

" You know, I' m not going to rape you."

" That' s my problem," she told him.

He was quite wise. " A lot of people have that problem. But I don' t rape women. I make them share the responsibility."

" You have a point," she nodded to him.

He spread his coat and they sat down, protected by a softly sloping sand dune. She bit the sandwich hungrily and took great gulps of the bottled beer.

" You forget to eat in the big city, don' t you?" he asked.

" You forget to live," she laughed.

" Where are you from?"

Here we go ' round the mulberry bush, the mulberry bush.

" Kansas City."

He studied her. " You like New York?"

" New York is New York," she explained. " You make your own New York."

" You shouldn' t stay here," he said.

" That' s what they told me in Kansas City."

" They were wrong." He was very sure of himself. " New York is a tough city."

" Everywhere is tough. First of all, we live in our own bodies with our own twisted heads. The same things would happen to me anywhere I lived."

" There are more rules in Kansas City," he explained. " Sometimes it' s convenient to have a lot of rules."

She put her head in her hands. God, was he going to depress her? Was he going to tell her to take care of herself and then tell her what was best for her, and then fuck her?

" Do I remind you of your sister, or mother?" she said acidly.

" No," he told her. " Not at all."

" Would you like to fuck me?"

He paused. " No. Not particularly."

" What are you, gay or something?"

" Why do you fight so hard?" he asked.

" I' d just rather fuck than be analyzed," she explained.

" Does every word two people exchange have to be analysis?"

She pressed her body into the sand. Her invitation and his quiet refusal mortified her, and she felt foolish tears coming into her eyes.

" Don' t feel so bad," he advised. " I don' t feel like I' ve won the first round."

" You should have just fucked me," she cried.

" Would you have felt better?"

" Much," she answered. " Much, much better," and this time she was sobbing.

Then he leaned over and curiously, gently, inexplicably, kissed her. It felt like her first kiss. His mouth cushioned hers with gentle sensitivity. She gasped with a mixture of pleasure and surprise. He did not speak another word to her. His mouth traveled down to her neck, and found the shaded hollow of her delicate bones. He pressed against her throat as though he would transfuse his blood and life into her. Then he returned to her mouth and lingered there, moving his tongue exploringly against the soft inner flesh of her cheeks.

His mouth played long and soft on hers until she felt she was moving her head in slow rapturous movements against the sun, an infinitely warm and patient nourishment. His mouth sapped her strength and he moved noiselessly to remove her sweater and matador pants and thin nylon underclothes. She lay nude, stretched out and sacrificed in the sand. She rolled off his coat, and the sand was damp and cool and granular against her buttocks. Over his shoulders, she could see the stars, spaced and cold. The moon was starkly white, like a winter moon, and imperfectly round.

The black sky filtered into her soul. But miraculously, it reassured her that time was hers. She could stretch time beyond the bounds of eternity. The sea, smacking the shore, understood her restless struggle.

The boy' s head was magnificent, silhouetted by the moon. He looked with adoration at her breasts, light and sharp in the night air. He circled her nipples with his lips. He sucked ravenously at the firm tits, sending shivers of terror and glory along her spine. His hand reached for her godhead, and his mouth and fingers kept the same magical rhythm. Then he moved his head to her thighs and pressed his tongue into her flowing cunt. She did not touch him, but ground herself into the sand, enslaved by his controlled caresses. He caught her taut clitoris and ran his teeth over the throbbing pit. She cried for mercy and for more… but he did not hear her, intent on his sensuous worship. Her body shivered with the swiftly moving sensations, melting with heat, then rigid with cold. She wanted to, but could not touch him. Her skin felt a prickly bloodless chill. His tongue was searching deep within her womb, proving that her body' s privacy was a chimera, that she belonged to man. She reveled in the humiliation, waiting only to be taken.

" Drain me," she cried. " Let it all out of me. Drain me."

His palms cupped her buttocks and pulled her against him. She was wet and exposed, muscleless and boneless. She sank into him, rotating her hips in sensuous accord. Then his body was full on hers and he released his thick, virile erection. The swollen head was a burning coal in the cool darkness. She wanted to take his rock- hard cock into her hands, but she hadn' t the strength or courage to initiate a gesture.

Without preamble, he thrust his prick into the center of her heat and energy. It pushed massive and tight in her black eternal secret. Feeling it safe and belonging in her grasping core, she reached her arms around him, timid in her tenderness, and pinned him close, pressing him to her chest. It was the first time that she had clung lovingly to a man. He enabled her at last to be the initiated virgin. Her thighs were spread wide on the sand to make his entry effortless. Be at rest in me, she whispered in her mind… be at rest in me.

He lifted his torso to the full length of his potent prick and sank back into her. With his first full thrust, she throbbed the tremendous urge that became an orgasm. He did not move then, but let her release her convulsive triumph against his maleness. Then she felt free and light under him. Free to love with abandon the remainder of the sea- spray- and- sperm- drenched night.