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1. Perry Coleman

2. Bobby Barker 3. Helen Peterson

4. Czar 5.

She thought about listing the things she liked to do as well as the list of the people she'd done them with, but that would be as complicated as some of the things she'd done. She went back and crossed Czar's name off the list, knowing there'd be a person to take his place soon and knowing she shouldn't be too eager to extend the list right away.

Of course, she could have had several more names on it already, for she and Helen had attracted a lot of attention that afternoon. Helen had demonstrated various ways-both subtle and brazen-of attracting admirers. She'd also showed her skill in rebuffing them at the last minute, and the exercise in being a temptress had been both confidence-building and fun.

In bed, she found it hard to sleep. She was disturbed by the visions of tangled bodies and bare flesh that kept running through her brain, and with the projected vision of an endless line of men, faceless but grinning, that stretched before her. She had to sleep, and at length she slipped her hand inside the wispy panties and began masturbating. She'd had a lot of sex in the past few days, more than she'd thought she might ever have in her life, and logically, the masturbation wouldn't do her any good. She learned again, however, that her appetite for sex was not like her appetite for food, and that the more she'd had, the more she wanted. She thrashed and moaned more than ever before in her solitary bed, and when it was over, she was relaxed and sleepy. Just before she dozed off, she began to cry, and even after she was asleep her body went on twitching with sobs for a while.

In the morning she brooded over a cup of coffee at the window. Her habit had awakened her at the usual time, and in the distance she could see the plant. The First Shift would be finishing up their morning's work and the Second Shift would be getting ready to take over. Wives were now preparing lunches; the men in Production were now shaving; executives were tying their ties, and secretaries were primping. And Chuck would be sleeping late at the hotel in preparation for another long day at the convention-there had been two letters from him in her mailbox on her return, and these were now in the trash, unopened. Still staring at the distant plant, she decided to go in to work that day, and having made at least one decision, she felt better. She got up to leisurely bathe and dress, intending to take her time about it, for it wouldn't do to get to work on time when she was on her vacation.

Although it was the most conservative of the three outfits they'd bought the day before, the dress Laura put on looked more suited for a Hollywood party than for a Sulfur City workday. It was dark blue with large white polka-dots. Its hem came to mid-thigh and its white-sashed waist was right up under her tits. She wore red bikini panties under it, knee-length black boots, and nothing else, for she'd shaved her legs very closely in the tub and their smoothness needed no stockings, and with tits like hers and a neckline like that, she certainly didn't need a bra. With her hair brushed out and softly waved, she had the appearance of a little girl with a big figure in that dress, but then again, the boots and the make-up and her practiced smile made her look like what she was, a woman who recognized her sexuality and wasn't afraid to show it off. Although she didn't intend to be at work for long, she'd turn some heads. She had decided to go in just long enough to check with Personnel and see if there was an immediate opening for her at the San Francisco plant. If there was, she'd take it and transfer to the coast without Mr. Markham's help and, hopefully, without even seeing him or Chuck again. If there was no opening she'd resign and become a whore. Helen had said the thing to do was to go to Las Vegas, meet the people who ran the business, and make up her mind then. Now that seemed like putting off the inevitable, and if she couldn't satisfactorily transfer within the company, she'd just pick up and go, for whoring was whoring, no matter how pleasant were a girl's associates.

Walking down the hall at work, she did turn heads and it did feel good, but she didn't create any minor riots and that was a relief. Men she didn't know at all smiled at her, some that she knew gaped at her, and others of her acquaintance didn't even recognize her. She strutted nonchalantly past them all, nipples chafing pleasantly against the soft bodice of her little dress, loins feeling as warm as the red material that covered them.

She phoned Personnel from her desk and was told that a check would be made on San Francisco openings and that her call would be returned. There was nothing to do but wait then, for she wasn't about to do any work on her vacation. She wandered about the office, trying not to let the pangs of nostalgia creep in on her. There were too many things there to jog her memory, though, and at last she returned to her desk, irritated at the inefficiency of Personnel, and began collating data. She'd been at it for twenty minutes when Stanley Phipps came in.

He entered whistling, with the mail bag slung over his shoulder, looking very young. His whistle ended in a gasp and he dropped several inter-office memos when he saw her smiling at him from her desk.

"What're you…? I thought you were on vacation. I… Gee, it's good to see you, Laura. Wow. I mean… it's good to see you at work. You sure look… nice today."

"New dress," she said, and stood up, moving away from her desk, and held the full skirt out at her sides. That drew the hem up so that almost all of her well-shaped legs could be seen. The boy tried unsuccessfully not to gape, and his obvious huge fascination was very pleasing to Laura. She said, "And a new hair-do and some make-up instead of those glasses. What do you think of the new me?"

"I… I like it, I guess."

She took a step forward. "You guess? Aren't you sure?"

"Well, sure. I mean, gosh, you're just… wow…"

"You seem to be having some trouble communicating today, Stanley," she said with a smile. "Just like you're having trouble handling the mail. Maybe this isn't one of your days."

He blushed and stooped to retrieve the fallen papers, and Laura went closer. A yard from him she bent at the waist and addressed the top of his head. "Can I help you?"

He looked up and his rosy cheeks turned a deeper shade of red. His eyes were very wide as he shook his head, and they got wider still as she straightened up and he got a worm's eye view of her legs. When she patted back her hair, she was almost sure the movement of her arm lifted her skirt enough for him to glimpse her red panties. She turned her back on him, sauntered the few steps to her desk, and bent over it to pick up her purse. He was still crouching motionless on the floor, papers in hand, staring at her as she sat one buttock on the edge of her desk and inspected her make-up in a mirror. Laura could hear the sound of his breathing.

"I'm thinking of leaving Sulfur City," she said.

"Aw. no," he moaned, rising, shambling forward.

"It's too dull here. There's not enough action. If I go, will you miss me, Stanley?"

"I sure will. Gosh, you shouldn't go. There's lots of action here."

She regarded him with a superior smile and said, "And what do you know about the action in Sulfur City?"

"Oh, I get around," he said, and dropped another memo.

She touched it with the toe of her boot and said, "Better pick that up, Stanley. It might be important."

He crouched slowly, as if sinking into quicksand, and he kept his eyes on hers until his knee touched the ground, at which point his gaze darted to her tits and then to her loins for an instant. Opening her legs so that she was sure he could see her red crotch, she said, "I think you do like the new me. Do you? Take a good look before you answer."

He looked her over well-as well as a nineteen-year-old kid can-developing a slow grin on his smooth face as he did. And he nodded and said, "Yeah. I always did like you, but now… boy-oh-boy, you're really something!"

"And you're a very sweet boy," she said, reaching down to tousle his hair. The way he held the mail bag against his lap, she knew he had an erection, and she felt a similar stirring within her own body. She wanted him as an addition to her list-conquered all by herself in the privacy of her apartment. The trouble was she'd already gone too far with her heavy-handed flirtation, and now it was up to him to make the advances, something he was too awe-struck to do, apparently. He could only gape at her and bashfully grin. "Do you have a girl friend, Stanley?"