Jon Reskind: The hungry pet

She and Roy had married when she was eighteen in '60, their nothing association lasting three years and two abortions. Sidney Bartell, the British star had been next, the perfect arrangement, she'd thought. Poor Sid, such a beautiful man and an unconvertible homo who needed a wife for his box-office image. How could she miss? Five years of free-wheeling on both their parts, numerous unimportant roles for her, as she began to appear in nudies with the new permissive approach, and finally Robert's death in an auto accident in Mexico which had brought that episode to a profitable end. She had inherited Cliffside here in Big Sur country and close to a half-million dollars in cold cash after taxes, boosting her bank-account well into the security range. The promiscuous little farm girl from Nebraska had made it after all… but at what cost? The last few months, she had pondered that question too often…

It weigh bitterly on her mind at the very moment as she floated about the pool, the prevailing breezes moving her, haphazardly, a great deal like her very existence, she rancourously thought, the tears of earlier grief beginning to pass. Of course, those tears would subside and go away forever, she knew from experience. It was just the immediate heartache, the egotistical loss of a lover she hadn't personally shed… but… but he had never been a lover like any of the others, had he?

There had been nothing suave or sweet smelling about Bo-Bo when she'd met him at The Haven, a small bar adjacent to the village's leading hotel in the nearby corners of Cala Mar. She'd been shopping for a handbag, had bought a snake-skinned one in fact, which she was quite pleased with and had gone into the lounge for a gin-tonic to examine it. He'd stood at the bar, down at the far corner as if he were not permitted to enter into the center of things, drinking beer from a bottle. Somehow, and she would never remember how that had happened, she had looked up to stare right into his leveled, perceptive eyes.

Had she given him some sort of come-on? Eve hardly remembered, but suddenly he was standing there with his beer bottle in his hand next to her table, smiling down at her. God, he'd been a stack of dirty rags, smiling warmly through a mow of unkempt whispers, his waved brown hair dangling around his shoulders. Yes, she had smelled him!

"W-Why don't you sit down… seeing you've come this far, stranger?" she said, looking up at him with dancing eyes, just the knowing of his being invited to her table enough to jar the house staff with whom she was quite familiar. The odd part of it was that she'd just shaken off a Vic someone-or-other, a twenty-three year old and spoiled son of an electronic scion from San Francisco who had wanted to marry her, ridded herself of him with a vow that she'd have no more to do with immature men, if any at all! But the knowing smile on this one's hardly visible face, and the expression in his young vibrant eyes at that moment had easily persuaded her, inciting her loins with visions of lewd sexual delights to come.

"Come ahead, sit down," she pressed, setting her new handbag in the chair next to her.

He did, very methodically, every movement a slow and decisive work of skepticism. He said, "You're Eve Novak. I watched a late-movie you were in on TV in a Phoenix hotel lobby a week ago. That… that was before they kicked me out." He grinned. "You were just a little girl then, but you haven't changed much. 'Beach Bang' was the name of it. Remember…?"

Eve nodded. She sure enough did remember. It was the bit-thing Ben Zachary had first gotten for her and she'd had to suck-off the Director every day for a month! You didn't forget a milestone like that when the man was almost sixty years old!

"You were pretty corny, but man, what a stack of curves," he said. "I thought about you for two nights after… even wondered whatever happened to you, and bloody fuck, here I run smack into you!"

At that moment, his use of the four letter word, though not uncommon in her particularly limited circle, sent a tremulous thrill tingling through her sensual, mini-clad body. For a moment, she wasn't sure whether to smile or show some up-tightness at his casual, obscene words, but then he had followed through taking her completely unaware.

"Not only do I meet you right out, but I find that the body you swiveled in that flick was babyfat compared to what I see now… say nothing of the face! Hey, lady, you're beautiful, you know it…?"

He laughed, a warm and thrilling sound. "The lady and the tiger!" he said. "So… tame me, lady! Tame me, if you can!"

She grabbed at his torn T-shirt, beginning to undress him right there in her plush living room, knowing that Manuel and Conchita were in their quarters and wouldn't come unless called. He laughed and so did she. "You're filthy!" she said, and then he roared, throwing back his head. "Who wants a filthy lover?" she giddily put to him, pulling at the wide-belt of his jeans. "Who did you sleep with last night?"

"A bunch of nasty-bastard ants! That's the truth! They just about chewed my ass off," he said as she made him step out of his ragged jeans and stand there with only his almost white, jockey shorts covering his total nakedness, the swell of his genitals huskily outlined before her hungering eyes, causing wild sensations of excitement to flutter intoxicatingly through her.

The opened windows and the ocean breeze continued to taunt her incited, flaring nostrils with strong essences of his young, real masculinity as he slipped his strong arms around her hour-glass waist, the mass of hair smothering his young, under-arms stimulating her the more at their virile sight!

"You're a tiger, all right… or are you just a pussycat?" Eve questioned, smoothing her small, soft hands over the hard, muscular development of his upper ribcage and youthful, hairy chest as he began to pressure tighter against her, the sensation of his long, stirring penis against her yielding, resilient belly like a squirming snake filled with fire!

"That's for you to decide, lady."

"My name is Eve, remember?"

"Sure… but I think I'll call you cunny-girl. You like that… cunny-babe? Cunny-honey…?"

"Whatever you want, lover!" she hissed, engulfing his mouth with her moistly open lips waiting to receive his young, hot tongue! It came and they clung that way for moments, their heated tongue tips passionately caressing, he with his big hands joined behind her slender waist, she with hers moving up beneath his arms to lock behind his strong, thick shoulders, their roused loins erotically grinding against one another in lewd sensuality.

God, what was it about him that had turned-on the basic animal in her? Not that the beast hadn't reared its immoral head untold times before, but never with more wild abandon! She had led him into the sunken bath of her private bedroom suite, stripped him while he'd stood grinning with hands on narrow hips, then knelt before him in awe, excitedly staring at his amazing, half-hardened cock and the heavy young balls hanging promisingly between his strong legs! To the best of her recollection, it was the longest and thickest male penis she had ever seen, its huge, bulbous head reminding her of a huge, tightly clenched fist!

"You dig it, cunny-babe? Like it's not the average, run-of-the-mill, everyday cock, eh?" he proudly teased, obscenely waggling his naked hips to make the yet hardening, young length of blood-engorging flesh sway back and forth in front of her lusting eyes. "It meters out at eight and one-half by four and-a-half at full tilt and brags no dissatisfied takers."

"I believe it, lover! I believe it!" she had gasped in lascivious admiration, reaching out with both hands to curl her slender fingers and thumbs around its hardening, fleshy heat, their smallness unable to completely encircle it, the width of both her soft, white hands leaving the heavy-veined cock protruding at both ends of her grasping feminine fists!