Eileen Over - Eager To Bed Bunny

Hugh found himself dancing with the girl "Who are you, anyway?"

"Do names matter if one lives for the moment? Tomorrow I can be a stranger."

If the father was psycho then his daughter was too dramatic. But what the hell, this was a party, so Hugh figured he would go along with her game. He had a name for her, however, one that she would not approve of: fatso.

The girl went on talking. "I haven't found the man yet who will be my partner for the night."

"What game will you be playing that forces you to look for a partner?"

"Sex, silly boy."

"Oh, I see."

"You appear to be a likely candidate but I think I ought to look around some more, don't you?"

"That might be best. For you, that is." The zipper on the girl's silk pants had come undone and two of the buttons on her too-tight shirt had popped off. Obviously she believed in squeezing herself into clothing several sizes too small.

She smiled brightly and insisted upon pressing her face and body to his in a slow dance. She felt quite warm and squeezable, like a child's favorite stuffed doll. It was an age since he had bedded down with a plump girl and Hugh would be willing to tumble this one. But he might be sexually drained and when he returned home that night Claudia would be furious.

"Do you like my figure? I seem rather fat but I'm not, you know."

"Who said you were? I'd call you a Rubens type."

"Exactly. I am voluptuous and if you saw me in the nude at once you'd admit I am very round. I don't know how men can go to bed with models, girls built like sticks with pimples for breasts and no asses."

"Some men do, but count me out of that group."

"Would you like to go to bed with me?"

It was a direct appeal, almost innocent the way it was put with her eyes so bright, her unrouged lips parted and those sparkling white teeth. Sure he would, but not at the moment, and Hugh told her this.

"I ought to get some partying in, some more drinks, a little more dancing. Then we'll see."

"All right." She slipped out of his arms and backed up a foot or so. "You may examine my breasts if you like, to sort of put you in the mood."

Hugh squeezed one breast and murmured approvingly. The globe was too big but deliciously firm, and he assured the girl he would be in the mood, "later."

A swift kiss from her soft lips and the fattish girl left. Hugh sighed, looking around for another drink, but nothing was available. White-jacketed servants were kept on the hop from the kitchen to the salon, but guests' insisted upon sweeping as many drinks from the tray as they could carry.

Across the salon Hugh was watched by the Countess and Maurier. The platinum-haired woman selected an unfinished martini and, winking at her companion, carried the glass over to Hugh.

"Here, my darling."

Hugh wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. "What is it, a cocktail? I've been drinking scotch."

"Take what's available."

He swallowed the mixture and watched a girl who was dancing atop a table. "Who is that?"

"Her name is Leda. That is the young girl who's draining Doctor Leasor of every penny. He gave this party to satisfy her. A beauty, isn't she, but a bit too big."

The girl Leda stood at least five eleven in her stocking feet and weighed not one bit under one seventy-five, none of which was fat. Her black hair was cropped short and her round, baby face was devoid of make-up. Her body, covered by a man's shirt and beach shorts, was big, wide-hipped, heavy-breasted and too overwhelming with round, strong thighs and buttocks packed with solid flesh. An amazon, her best feature was her legs, which were long and shapely with slim ankles. As she danced, causing every muscle in her body to vibrate, her jutting breasts bounced up and down, their nipples erect.

"She is just too much woman," Hugh told the Countess.

"Would you like to sleep with her?"

"For novelty, yes." He thought about his remark seconds after making it. The people here were too concerned with sex; it governed their actions, seeming to be the goal that carried them through life.

He had left behind wealth and a life of ease to seek hard experience, but all he was finding was sex. It wasn't the way, not the way at all. He was surprised that, during the time he had been in Maurier's employ, he had not given the direction his life had taken any serious thought.

The Countess pressed another martini into his hand. "Here. Your glass is empty."

Hugh took the glass without thinking, automatically drinking the potent liquid. Some of the boys were beating their palms on the table top and the man at the piano played a strange rhythm for the black-haired Leda to dance to. It was a sensuous dance, with the girl's hips undulating to the tempo of the improvised accompaniment.

At once she dragged forth an audience, stopping all conversation. Men put down drinks, women left new partners and food and cigarettes were forgotten as Leda swung her delightful rump in all four directions of the room.

"Eeeee," said a loose-lipped homosexual, "this is one time I wish I were a man."

"So do I," said a fellow at his side, a skinny little pansy with a brassy yellow streak in his otherwise black mane of hair.

The crowd applauded with enthusiasm and Leda, shrieking, responded to their cries by stripping. Perspiration washed her baby face as she removed the now wet shirt and tossed it away. Her generous breasts, unnaturally white against her sun-blackened body, were awash with sweat, bobbing in different directions.

Drawn to the table, Hugh stared with wide, round eyes at the girl's breasts, hips and long legs. For a wild moment he had the urge to climb up there and get his hands on this whirling, large-bodied girl.

"She will take someone on, count on it," said the Countess, pressing another martini into Hugh's hand.

He drank it down without thinking. "Won't the good doctor have something to say about this?"

"He's not jealous. She'll have perhaps a half-dozen different men and then she is his again."

Hugh put the glass to his mouth and made a face upon finding it empty. "Some woman. I didn't think that nature made them that way anymore."

"Wait, I shall find you another drink." The Countess slipped away.

Hugh, sweating like a pig, kept licking his dried lips. The girl, Leda, still up there dancing, was a sensation. Her body, weaving in time to the piano's in-creasing tempo, was unrestrained, and there was pure craving in her eyes.

"Here." The Countess had successfully located still another martini.

With a sudden scream Leda stopped dancing and crumpled on the table, her long legs thrashing as if she were the victim of a seizure. Men broke forward, clambering to climb on top of the table.

The drinking took its effect and Hugh really did not know where he was. He looked into the Countess's eyes, seeing them very wide, quite pale now and definitely serious. Her voice was but a murmur as she took his hand. "Darling boy, you are coming with me."

Startled, moving like a sleepwalker, Hugh was taken out of the party room, down the hall to an empty room. The moment they crossed the threshold the woman embraced him, tearing at the same time at his clothing. He kissed her hard, rubbing his mouth back and forth across hers.

After what seemed an eternity he was naked and so was she. Swaying like a drunk, lie staggered into a small bed and lay back, his head heavy on the pillow, his eyes closed, feeling her take his hands and guide them over her breasts. He encompassed them, finding them still firm and shapely, despite her age.

He tried to keep his mind clear but the drink was too strong, and this woman's body an aphrodisiac, and he squeezed her arms, stroked her hips and palmed her buttocks, feeling out of breath from the long kiss.