Mark Townsend - Slavetrader's captive

Robert lighted one for himself and went on smiling, showing understanding mingled with a flirting interest. Almost at once she had begun to relax from the effects of the soothing smoke, and in a few minutes she was smiling warmly, running her eyes approvingly over his ruggedly handsome features.

At least Maurice had the decency to send someone interesting, she thought to herself. She was wondering how long she would have to wait to kiss Robert's moistly sensual lips without seeming too callous. But who cares about appearances anyway, she reflected bitterly as she finished the drug-ridden cigarette and stubbed it out in the ashtray.

She stood up slowly, and with a toss of her head that sent her flaming red hair flying back over her shoulders, she took Robert's hand and pulled him up from the chair where he was watching her with wide-open eyes. She recognized the lust in them from her recent near-affair with Maurice, and she liked being looked at that way.

Robert rose slowly from his seat, and, smiling greedily down at her upturned face, pressed his slightly parted lips wetly over hers.

Jesus, he was thinking as her tongue answered his spearing probe up between her open lips. Every day is like Christmas! He had never before found it so easy to get his way with women. It's all in who you know, he chuckled to himself. Then he felt her arms slipping up around his neck to pull him down tighter onto her hungry mouth, and he let his fingers slip unobtrusively down to rest at the beginning flare of her buttocks. She didn't resist in any way, and he knew it was going to be all right.