Gale Grayson - Door-to-door sex-girl

Fixing her with a cold stare, she asked one more stabbing question. "Are you one of his… women?"

Janice was too startled to think of lying. "Y-yes," she confessed. "Yes, I-I am…" She flushed pinkly to the roots of her auburn hair and looked away in embarrassment. She, too, had been aroused by what she had heard and had been wondering whether her satyr boss would have enough energy left over for a sexual romp with her. "But, I-I didn't want it to be that way!"

"No, I suppose not!" Annabelle said. "I don't suppose any of us could resist him, once he gets you alone with him!"

The meeting on the following day, which Annabelle had arranged between her and Phyllis Hartman, was very rewarding in many ways.

It started off with some tentative sparring. Probing for attitudes in Phyllis Hartman, Annabelle soon uncovered the fact that Phyllis was aware of her husband's philandering, but it came as yet another shock when Phyllis admitted that she, too, occupied Hugo Foxx's bed in his private office two or three times a week.

Having lived with the poisoning suspicion that her husband was playing around with other women, and once having found out for sure that he was, Annabelle was determined that two could play at that game, the same as Phyllis Hartman had done.

For a while there was an uneasy relationship between them, of wronged wife and other woman, but as they talked further, consuming a pair of martinis apiece, they moved into a friendly camaraderie in which they began to share intimate bits of information about themselves with each other, about their relationship with Hugo, about what they could do together to both Hugo and Arthur Hartman to put them in their places.

Finally, the two women, drawn together in their mutual misery, their bellies warmed by a third martini and their talk of sex leading them on to it, found themselves talking ever more intimately, as they planned what they would do on the following day… if possible.

"We'd have to put on a good lesbian act," Phyllis said, finding it difficult to control her breathing. "You know what we'd have to do!"

Annabelle was remembering how it had been when she was attending a private finishing school for girls. "Yes, I know… I know all about it!" One of her hands stole out to Phyllis' rapidly heaving breast to knead and caress, discovering that the other woman wasn't wearing a brassiere.

Cringing away, Phyllis gasped, "Oh God! Not now, Annabelle! Not right now!" Then she moaned as the gently caressing hand moved to the other breast.

In the next instant, the two moaning women were clinging to each other, their wetly open mouths seeking and finding lips; to kiss, their tongues entwining probingly and their hands searching feverishly the lushly ripened mounds and curves of each other to caress and fondle. And then they were on the bed in Phyllis and Arthur's bedroom, Phyllis a little apprehensive, yet, but willing to learn, as the flames of her forbidden passion were blown by a giant bellows into white-hot heat. Then, naked on the bed, their hotly hungering tongues, mouths and faces buried in the warmly perfumed flesh up between each other's outspread legs, they tasted the joys of woman-love, tender and sweet…

"I suppose we could call this a rehearsal," Annabelle suggested, lighting a cigarette afterward and lounging back, slim and willowy in her platinum blonde loveliness.

"Yes, I guess we could," Phyllis agreed, "but I don't know how I missed out on this, all of these years!" Her sigh was languid, satisfied, and she gazed lovingly at the other naked woman with smoky, full-lidded eyes.

Leon Brooks had been busy all morning long. Noontime had been hectic, and now, as it neared two o'clock, most of the work was cleared up. He was glad for the time to eat his lunch finally, drink some hot coffee and enjoy a cigarette.

He was sitting in his office, from which he could see all of the service station area. The telephone rang.

"I'm having a terrible time trying to get my car started," an agitated woman's voice told him.

"What's happening?"

"It just grinds."

"Well, it's not your battery. Where are you?"

She gave him the address.

"That's a motel."

"That's right. We're in room sixteen, on the left as you drive in!"

"And what kind of car is it?"

"It's a blue Triumph."

"Okay, I'll be there in about ten or fifteen minutes!" Leon told her, then asked. "By the way, what's your name?"

"Oh, I'm Annabelle – Annabelle Foxx!"

Leon found the car parked in front of room sixteen just as Mrs. Foxx had told him it would be. He lifted the lid of the engine compartment and found the trouble almost immediately: the wires leading from the distributor to the spark plugs had been disconnected. "Damn!" he growled to himself. "Somebody's playing jokes or something!" He replaced the wires on their proper connectors in something like thirty seconds, then looking in at the dash panel, he discovered that the ignition keys were not there. Well, I'll get the keys and try it – collect my money and get the hell back to the station!

"Mrs. Foxx?" Leon asked. "Your car is fixed, I think… and if I can have the keys, I'll see whether it starts now."

"Oh, that's fine!" Annabelle gushed. "Just step in, and I'll see if I can find them!" She threw open the door.

Leon gasped and hesitated a moment, but he wasn't able to resist staring at her as she stepped back to let him enter. She was wearing a frilly dressing robe that he could almost look right through, and the way it gapped open at the top, he got a good look at her full white breasts swelling out so delightfully under the thin material. He was sure that she wasn't wearing anything else. Level blue eyes looked out at him over a little snub nose, and her sensuous wet lips smiled at him invitingly. Her silvery blonde hair was combed down straight to her shoulders. She saw his hesitation and added, "I'll have to find my checkbook, too, so I can pay you for your trouble."

Momentarily, Leon wondered whether her friendly invitation, her somewhat careless display of her charms, and the disconnected spark plug wires on her car, was a trap, a trap set for him by this designing woman to get him alone with her. Hell! Maybe she's one of those women who prowl around picking up guys because they're not being taken care of at home! His interest was piqued almost instantly. Well, I've got nothing to lose! He stepped through the door.

Then he saw her! A second woman with jet-black hair smiled up at him from the bed. She was completely naked, her voluptuously ripened body arranged provocatively, and he couldn't miss the vision of full-mounded breasts, the pink nipples standing erect already, the nipped-in waist, curving hips and softly tapered thighs of a thoroughly desirable woman. Leon stopped short, staring with unabashed manly interest. The door swung shut behind him, and he heard the dead bolt click home. What the hell? Two of them! Probably a couple of lesbians – but what kind of games are they playing?

"Excuse me, ladies, but I don't want to break up your fun and games!" He turned back toward the door, something telling him he'd better leave, now!

Annabelle was loosening her robe. The front of it was open, revealing the supple willowiness of her lushly mature body, and his eyes swiveled to take in the beauty of it, aware at the same time of his rapidly rising penis down below as his hotly pounding blood charged into it.

"We were hoping that you'd want to stick around and watch," Annabelle told him with a lewd little smile curling her lips.

Christ! They're a couple of kooks! "What makes you think that?" he asked, knowing already that he would stay, that dynamite couldn't get him out of here now.

The woman on the bed spoke for the first time. "Because, we think most men do like to watch!"