Eileen Over - Eager To Bed Bunny

"Congratulations, monsieur! And now I must leave you all." He shook Hugh's hand and left.

Hugh stood there, his mouth wide open, his hand still hurting from the Captain's hard grip. "God above, what is happening to me?"

He rented a house in Juan-les-Pins, a large unpainted, badly furnished place, because Mrs. Baldwin insisted upon it. There they lived, the father in one room, the mother in the best room and Hugh squeezed together with Jane in a tiny bedroom. Within three days he thought he was a perfect candidate for the lunatic asylum. Daily, almost on the hour, the parents questioned him about his background and finances. When it was discovered that he was wealthy, the invisible chains the parents had wrapped about Hugh tightened.

A wealthy son-in-law! Who could ask for anything more? Baldwin even talked about expanding his used-car business, opening branches throughout London, while the mother discussed the purchase of a country house where they all might live, somewhere in the region of Reigate. Jane constantly nagged that she wished to be taken to Cannes where there were costly jewelers catering to the rich, so that she might select an engagement ring.

Although she and Hugh slept in the same bed, he was unable to work up any enthusiasm for her luscious body, or for her, for that matter. He only knew he was caught in a terrible trap.

Jane certainly was not as innocent as she pretended, and he was inclined to believe that he was just one man of many in her experience. Come to think of it, her parents had tried to force them together on the boat. Perhaps this was all a prearranged thing with the Baidwins setting out on that cruise to find Jane a husband.

Three days in the hot sun browned her, darkening the snowy complexion, making her breasts appear more erotic, and her supple hips take on an exciting sheen. But he would look at that fabulous body, so burnished, at the russet hair tumbling about her shoulders, at her fine-featured face with its beguiling eyes, classic nose and dimpled chin and turn away, knowing he was looking at a female devil.

He had to get away.

There were advertisements in the newspapers, asking for ditch-diggers, truck drivers, chauffeurs, waiters, and he considered that this might be a way to escape. He had come here to work, not to screw around with some silly bitch and get engaged.

The small summer resort was too crowded and the sun created an atmosphere that was like a fire. It pasted an unbelievable heat upon the cottages and villas and white-washed buildings, as if a boiling paint had been smeared on. To escape, most tourists wearing the new-styled string bikinis fled into the azure waters, remaining there for hours. Hugh was much too upset to go swimming, but the Baidwins and their bewitching daughter spent most of the day there.

Hugh would walk through the small village, past dwellings of baked brick, up cobblestone roads and down unpaved dirt streets. Like a tourist he looked at monuments and churches and the different stores, feeling he had never sweated before in his life like this. Man, it was hot!

He wore only sandals and jeans and a cotton, short-sleeved shirt, but light as these garments were his sweat seeped through and they stuck to his back as if glued.

Beautiful girls were everywhere. Sometimes they were too heavy but still curvy and exciting; others were tall and full-bodied, some maddeningly slender and shapely, others short but with well-contoured busts and buttocks.

But Hugh wanted no woman. He was stunned by the situation he was involved in, surprised by his easy acceptance of it. It was blackmail and the Baldwin's were forcing his hand.

Lack of sleep left him shaking, and he walked about totally confused. He spoke excellent French, but the language seemed too strange, as if he had never heard it before.

Near the small railroad station he sat in a cafй, considering the promise he had made to himself to find work. An Arab came by, annoying him, trying to sell transistor radios. A youth offered French-made shoes. A girl shoved a newspaper under his nose, reminding him that 'he must keep up with the situation in the world today, so buy one, s'll vous plaоt.

As he sat there the whores parked at other tables took an interest in him, eyeing him like the vultures they were, ready to pick his pockets. The waiters also watched, one sneering as he picked his nose and wiped the findings on the doorframe, the other picking his teeth and spitting out the results.

It was too squalid here, almost dirty, in one of the world's most expensive areas, and he had no desire to remain. Hugh picked himself up and drifted back down toward the house, determined to have it out with the Baldwin's. Beautiful as Jane was, he had no intention of being forced into an unwanted marriage.

Halfway there a plan came to him. Fighting the Baldwin's would tip them of to his move. Better to just walk out, without warning, leaving them to wonder about his destination. Sure, that was the best idea, and when the real estate agent came for the rent, because after all he had just left a small deposit, the Baldwin's would have to pay the bill. They used up gas, electricity and water without consideration even though it was all extra. Let them worry now about the payment.

Along the main street there was noise created by music, men and machines. Scooters raced along with snarling rear – engined Volkswagens, roaring Fiats, pounding Cadillac or Lincoln limousines, and just about every bicycle turned out by the factory. He listened to brakes squealing, to shouts of joy or anger, to rapid conversations, children screaming and the music, the endless music from hand-carried or car radios. People here, it appeared, lived for music.

A half-naked girl caught his eye, a thrilling beauty with burnished wet hair clinging to her browned neck and shoulders and eyes that shone like polished coins. Her bikini top was a joke, showing ninety percent of her tits, which were unbelievably round and more than a handful. Her crotch was covered, although many pubic hairs escaped to tantalize passing males, and this part of the bikini, actually smaller than a handkerchief, was held up by a string encircling her waist. The law would state that she wore a bathing costume, but most would agree that this dream of a girl was naked.

"Don't you recognize your own woman?"

He came to with a start, shocked to see that all along he had been admiring Jane. "You! What are you wearing?"

"A Brazilian bikini. I just bought it. Lovely, isn't it?" She pivoted on her toes, not caring that men and women passing by stopped to take in the awesome sight of her browned, fruit-shaped behind.

Jane took his arm, chattering all the way to the house like a parrot who had been taught a full set of words. Most of it had to do with his lack of interest in sex.

"Is something wrong?"

"No."

"Well, don't I appeal to you anymore?"

"You're beautiful. All the men look at you."

"I am not interested in all the men; I'm interested in you. Honestly, Hugh, that time on the ship you made love to me like a sex-starved man just let out of prison. But these past few nights you've let me alone. Is it because my parents are nearby?"

"Something like that."

"Come on, we are engaged. They know what a man and woman alone in a bed together do. I need my loving."

He managed to change the subject by remarking on the heat, and when her parents were met he was temporarily reprieved. But that night after dinner in an expensive restaurant with Hugh paying the bill, naturally, Jane started in again.

"Wait until I get you in bed tonight," she whispered in his ear.

"I do not want to sleep with you."

Her mother, reading, looked up; her father, watching sports on the rented television set, also looked up. Jane donned a false smile for their benefit, but there was no mirth in her eyes. They waited for Hugh's explanation, but he marched directly into the bedroom, undressed and slipped between the sheets.