I’d always heard that knights of old were smaller on the average than the men of today. Fortunately, this couldn’t have been true of the knight for whom this particular suit of armor was intended. He must have been a giant of a man, else Tanya and I would never have been able to share his armor suit.
Tanya, as I’ve indicated, was sharing it unwillingly. To make sure I didn’t forget her reluctance, she responded to my kiss by tearing savagely at my lower lip with her small, sharp teeth. I bit back and drew a muffled Cold War groan from my Russian adversary. She stopped biting, so I stopped biting, too. But I kept on kissing. You can’t trust these Russians.
The position had forced not only our lips but also our bodies into the closest proximity. Because of the way the legs of the armor had been positioned, our feet were spaced wide apart, our legs were parallel, and our pelvises were crushed together. Our upper bodies were also pasted together.
With the prolonged kiss, I became aware of Tanya’s small, sharp breasts digging into my chest. She was wearing the typical black Maltese dress with no bra under it, and the tips of her breasts were growing hotter and harder as I maintained the kiss. Slowly her lips relaxed and parted. Reflex action found the tip of my tongue responding and investigating.
Because of the way I’d initially shoved her into the suit of armor, her arms were bent at the elbows, the palms pressed back on either side of her head and facing me at just the height of her shoulders. She managed to move them slightly now as her own tongue dueled with mine for a series of little, lightning-like thrills. Aroused, her sex was fluttering against my manhood which was arching rigidly in response. As the movement of these parts of our bodies took on a basic rhythm, she grasped my shoulders with her hands and began pulling herself up so that the contact would be more direct.
This resulted in several things happening—some of which she must have calculated. The first was that her weight was no longer so painfully on my feet, where she had been standing, but now was suspended from my shoulders, where its more equal distribution made it easier to bear. Then, as she began actually chinning herself, using my shoulders for leverage, and grinding against me with all her strength, I realized that she was pushing my trousers down from my waist. She manage to get her knees around my hips and continued the movements until my pants were down around the middle of my thighs. After that, she varied it slightly, leaning away, rather than toward me, until she’d managed to push her skirt up above her muscular but slender legs.
Before going along with it all the way, I took a chance and broke off the kiss so that I could raise my head and peek through the visor at the large room outside. The S.M.U.T. kiddies were still flinging open doors and pushing aside furniture in their search for me. But they weren’t, thank goodness, showing any interest in the suit of armor.
Tanya had arranged things by now. She took a deep, trembling breath which inflated her breasts and crushed them against me like toy balloons, locked her hands around my neck, and pulled herself up as high as she could. Her legs circled my waist and the ankles locked as she lowered herself. I had to kiss her again so her cry of satisfaction wouldn’t be heard when she impaled herself to the very hilt.
She began bouncing up and down gently now. A good part of her weight was resting on the instrument of her impalement. It felt a little like being weighted down with fiery, melting, clutching marshmallow. Because of the confined position, the only way I could respond was with a rotating movement that was raising a blister on my buttocks as they rubbed against the armor. But I soon forgot about the blister.
I forgot about the threat from S.M.U.T. outside, too. I forgot about everything except the wild, crazy sensations as Tanya sheathed and unsheathed my dagger with increasingly more abandoned movements. My rotating response was driving her berserk with passion. It felt as if I was in the grip of a pulsating, vise-like valve. Only the furnace of sensation into which I’d been plunged existed as we pounded our flesh against each other and approached the explosion of our lust.
And then it exploded. The feeling was so intense that I don’t think either of us was aware that our letting go was rocking the suit of armor precariously. By the time this fact penetrated my own awareness, it was too late. The armor suit toppled, and we crashed w1th it. My skull crunched into something cold and hard, and I took a high dive straight to the blacker-than-black bottom of the inkwell.
I came out of it very slowly, the insides of my shut eyelids still coated with the black ink, the slippery eel of consciousness which was my mind skidding back into the recent past. There was a crash echoing in my ears, but it wasn’t the crash of the armor; it was the crash of a wooden door splintering under the blast of a double-barreled shotgun.
I struggled with the memory, trying to make some sense of it. Now let’s see . . .”
“And now you must die!” That’s what Tanya had said as she poked the shotgun through the bars of the window and up against my forehead.
I’d seen her finger span both triggers and start to tighten. I’d ducked my head just as it went off, grabbed the barrel with both hands, and yanked hard. The blast had made the wood of the door splinter, but it still seemed as firmly closed as before. It was a stout door, and with the lock on the other side where I couldn’t even see it, I judged my chances of shooting it open were nil.
Still, I had to do something fast. The sound of the blast was sure to bring guards down around my neck 1n a hurry. I turned back to the window, placed the muzzle of the gun against the spot where one of the bars was joined to the cement, and fired. I repeated it with the next bar. After that I was able to push them easily out of their sockets. It was a close squeeze, and I left some skin behind, but I managed to pull myself up and out of the window.
Tanya was waiting for me as I emerged. The Russian girl wasn’t as much of a fool as she’d seemed at first. She’d picked up one of the steel bars I’d knocked out of the window and flattened herself against the wall. Now, as I was pulling myself out, she swung the bar down hard, straight for the base of my skull.
The only thing that saved me is the fact that I have excellent peripheral vision. I sensed, more than saw, the weapon swinging down at me, and flung myself out the window and to one side. It hit right where my head had been. But by then it was too late for Tanya to try another swing. Where my neck is concerned, I don’t give second chances. I rolled over and pointed the shotgun at her. She froze. There was nothing else she could do.
I relieved her of her flashlight and shone the beam on her. For the first time I had a really good look at the Russian girl. It went a long way toward convincing me of the advantages of East-West coexistence.
Tanya was a pint-sized pile of well-sculpted Russian caviar spiced to petite perfection. Maybe an inch over five feet, she was as sizzling a Molotov cocktail of sex appeal as ever rolled through the Iron Curtain. Her hair was short and brown and combed like a boy’s. But that was the only boylike thing about her.
Her features were round and well-chiseled and extremely feminine. The eyes were dark, deep-set, serious, and covered with long fluttering lashes. Her cheekbones were high, slight hollows which framed a mouth that managed to be both sullen and inviting at the same time. Her jawline was firm but rounded.
She stood with her hands on top of her head now as a gesture of surrender to the shotgun I held on her. The position made the black Malta dress she was wearing pull tightly over her figure and hike up well above her knees. They were very nice knees with non-Communist dimples, and the thigh-flesh above her rolled stockings was almost decadently flushed. Even with the thick stockings, I could see that her legs were well-shaped and femininely muscular like the legs of a professional dancer. Little did I guess then that those muscles would soon be flexing to insure the legs a grip around my body.