Eileen Over - Eager To Bed Bunny

There was the sound of a motor turning over and Hugh looked toward the garage just as the white Al! a Romeo sports car shot off. He started toward it, his hand upraised.

"Hey!"

Behind the wheel was the Countess, with her passengers, Maurier, and in the back, pieces of luggage jutted up. The small car turned and was lost from his sight. Pausing, still able to hear the police whistles and screams in the distance, Hugh knew that the two people had fled to avoid being arrested.

In the kitchen he found Claudia serving coffee to a rough-looking black-haired youth with the arms of a blacksmith. This person sat at the table dressed in a once-white cotton pullover and beach shorts. Upon Hugh's entrance be merely looked up.

Claudia, her eyes reddened from lack of sleep and her long hair snarled, moved silently. She wore a cotton robe and Hugh sensed that under the robe there was nothing except her warm body.

"What in hell is going on?"

"You ought to know since you were one of the guests at that dirty party. Orgies are not allowed, my friend, not in my country or any country. Every guest who attended is liable for arrest. Yourself included."

"Huh?"

"Yes, huh. Maurier got out. Your new girlfriend, that old bitch the Countess, got out. I suggest you do the same."

"You didn't waste much time, I see," he said, referring to the black-haired young man.

Proudly and somewhat defiantly. she threw her shoulders back, causing her breasts to rise. "No, I did not. At least with a fellow like Salvatore here I know where I stand."

Hugh did not answer and Claudia, flaunting her awesomely shaped behind, left the room. Salvatore scratched his ear, wiped his mouth with his palm, looked rather foolishly at Hugh and left the kitchen, taking the direction of Claudia's room. Less than one moment later whispers drifted out and the sound of naked bodies rubbing together was heard.

He listened to Claudia's groans and the squeak of the bedsprings, knowing this was all for his benefit. The beautiful red-haired girl that was almost his was getting her revenge. The cries of passion as Salvatore possessed her were upsetting and Hugh imagined her body with its imposing breasts and buttocks mauled by the strange young man.

Abject, Hugh slumped upon a chair and rested his elbows on the kitchen table. Well, he had certainly made a mess of things.

Claudia's squeals turned to shouts, and were followed by Salvatore's pig-like grunts. Then all went silent. Then the girl came into the kitchen again, the cotton robe floating open to show the body just used, the breasts burned so brown by the sun, the shapely thighs rubbing together.

She was after a bottle of wine and opened it with her back to Hugh, slowly, drawing the robe together so that it tightened over her buttocks, clearly outlining the dynamic thrust of each cheek.

On her way back to her new lover she paused. "Get out. I have warned you. The police will go to all the houses in the vicinity and make their inquiries. If they come here I shall speak the truth."

She left an odor that had been so familiar to him, the scent of her luscious body and the fragrance of her perfume, the two blending, lingering in his nostrils.

At length Hugh stirred, went into the bathroom, removed his trousers and stood under a hot shower. He remained stiff as a statue for long minutes before finally soaping himself, then washed the lather off with cold spray.

As he toweled himself dry he noticed that the house was still. Frowning, he stepped out, wetting the floor in his search for Salvatore and Claudia. But they had gone, taking themselves and, to his dismay, even his suitcase filled with clothing.

He was alone and naked, except for his dirty trousers.

Fortunately for Hugh, his wallet was jammed into one pocket of the ruined trousers. Therefore his passport, various licenses, a batch of travelers' checks and money, what there was left of it, were still intact. But that bitch, Claudia! She had deliberately stolen his things to dress that damned peasant up like a gentleman.

Holy shit, what a mess, what a damned mess!

He walked through the badly furnished villa, thinking the owner might soon be visiting, demanding rent from whoever occupied it. Since Maurier had gone that left just one person responsible. Him!

Hugh shook his head. "How in hell did I louse up my life like this?"

What hurt most of all was Claudia's treachery. He recalled how she looked in bed, the taut mounds of her breasts still firm, still rounded like melons even as she lay back. He imagined Salvatore's strong fingers squeezing the joy from those very same breasts that he himself had once held and loved, and Hugh began to shudder with rage.

"That bitch!"

Well, there was no point in crying. The deed was done even if the thought remained. In the room where Claudia had cried out her lust while Salvatore was on top of her Hugh found a pair of old shoes. Well, not shoes really, just torn canvas sneakers.

Salvatore's gift to him, the bastard. Putting them on, even though they fit badly, Hugh left the villa. In the garden he looked back, shook his head and walked uncomfortably toward the still sleeping town.

He looked at his wrist watch which he had been sensible enough not to remove during tile hot, lusty turn with the Countess. Not yet seven. No stores would be open yet, but maybe some of the beach cafйs would be serving coffee to early swimmers.

He was in luck. One place had just opened, the coffee freshly made. Hugh sat down at a table and ordered. I have got to pick myself up, I have got to! He had lost all self respect and worse, had lost the respect of others. Talk about experience! Oh, man! Maurier, the Countess, Claudia, the Baldwin's and their daughter, Jane… the faces swam before him, whirling around and around until he thought he would go crazy. He must never allow this to happen again.

Look at me now, afraid of being hauled in by the bulls, running like a thief, with a future that was, at best, uncertain. He had arrived on the Continent with a new leather suitcase filled with elegant clothing and a solid reputation. Now, a short time later, he was a drifter in dirty pants and wearing another man's castoff shoes.

His bowl of coffee arrived and while he bent over it, letting the rising steam clear his head, the waiter left a basket of rolls and jam and butter on the table.

Hugh ate, stuffing himself on the bread, and the sun was already high in the sky when he finished his third cup of coffee. Now he felt like a new person. All he had to do was formulate some worthwhile plans and go into action.

He looked at the sun-painted streets of the town, feeling somewhat elated. This was what he needed, some sun, some activity and the fiasco with Maurier and Claudia would be forgotten.

Ahh, that bitch! In all truth he could not consider her a loss because she had turned out to be so bitchy and spiteful, gaining her revenge at the end. Her love had been non-existent and the memory of her, right now, was unpleasant.

There was little good to be derived from thinking about the past. The past was a pile of cold ashes that must not be raked up.

Shortly past eight o'clock two women appeared, both dark-haired, neither of them very young, but one tall and slender with a dynamically curved body. Her melon-shaped breasts bounced freely, drawing an excited breath not only from Hugh but from the waiter on duty as well.

They chose a table next to Hugh's and during the serving of breakfast discussed the latest fashions. The younger woman had removed her black sunglasses to reveal a good-looking face with dark, deep-set eyes, a Roman nose and a large, sculptured mouth.

She caught him staring and stared back, letting him know he was damned inquisitive and had a nerve listening to a private conversation. Hugh looked away, but when he heard the woman talking about a travel agency and mentioning that she would interview applicants for a position that very morning, his mind ran ahead.