“Hop in,” she said.
He placed their bags in a luggage rack and got in beside her. She pressed a button, and the car started up the mountain. Stone looked back at the desert behind them; he reckoned they were at least four thousand feet above the desert floor now, and his ears were popping regularly.
The car leveled off and came to a stop beneath an awning; a young man in a polo shirt and Bermuda shorts stepped up and took their bags. “Welcome to Tiptop,” he said. “Please follow me.”
They walked up a short flight of steps and suddenly they were at the mountaintop. They were in a small lobby with windows that looked out over both sides of the mountain range, and the view was spectacular. Betty signed a registration card, and the young man took them out a rear door, past a large pool, and to a cottage just beyond.
“Lunch begins at noon,” he said, “and your program starts at one.”
Stone tipped him and he left them alone in the spacious and beautifully decorated cottage. There was a sitting room, a bedroom, a bath, and a wet bar. “Our program?” he asked.
“I told you,” she said, putting her arms around his neck and kissing him, “no questions. It’s nearly noon; we may as well have some lunch.” She took his hand and led him to a table at poolside. Half a dozen other couples were seated around the pool now, and two of them were naked.
“Well, I guess it’s warm enough,” Stone said, nodding toward them.
“Clothes are optional,” she replied. “I’ll be shedding mine when our program starts, and I won’t be putting them back on until dinnertime, if then. You can do whatever makes you comfortable.”
“Thank you,” Stone said. “I certainly don’t object to nudity where you’re concerned.”
“Order,” she said.
Stone had a delicious lobster salad, and they shared a bottle of very good chardonnay. “Don’t I get to ask you any questions about anything?”
“Not until we leave this place,” she said. “Until then, you are mine to command. Try to keep that in mind.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, sipping his wine. He was relieved that Ippolito’s men were not sharing the table with them.
“Isn’t this a beautiful spot?” she asked.
“It certainly is. How do you know about it?”
“I’ve been here once before. It’s very private; the phone number is unlisted, and in order to get your first reservation, a former guest has to recommend you. It’s practically a club.”
“I like the clubhouse,” Stone said, looking around, “and I can’t wait to start the program.”
“Looks like we’re starting now,” Betty said, nodding toward an approaching young woman, who was wearing a short cotton robe.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Southard,” she said, “and to you, Mr. Smith. Your mud bath is ready.”
“Mud bath?” Stone repeated.
“Shut up and do as you’re told,” Betty said. “I apologize for Mr. Smith,” she said to the young woman. “He’s a New Yorker, and he’s experiencing culture shock.”
“That’s quite all right,” the woman replied. “He’s not our first New Yorker. They seem to loosen up after the mud bath.”
Stone stood up. “Do with me as you will,” he said.
24
The young woman led them down a flagstone path rimmed with dense desert plantings for a hundred yards, then opened a high bamboo gate. They were outdoors, except for the bamboo screen through which they had entered, and a thatched roof that kept off the strong sun. Under the roof were two rectangular tubs, carved from stone and filled with steaming, bubbling mud.
“I’ll take your clothes,” the young woman said. “By the way, my name is Lisa.”
“How do you do, Lisa?” Stone said, stripping off his clothes and handing them to her. Betty did the same, and with Lisa’s help, they lowered themselves into the tubs.
“I’ll take your clothes to your suite, and I’ll return in half an hour,” Lisa said. She set two pitchers, one of iced water, the other of lemonade, on a stool between them, along with paper cups. “If you get too warm, drink something, or just get out of the tub.” She took their clothes and left.
Stone found that the bottom of the tub was contoured to fit his body, and after the initial shock of the heat, he settled in. The two of them lay in the mud for half an hour, melting, relaxing, not speaking, until Lisa returned.
“I think that’s enough,” she said. “We wouldn’t want you to shrivel up.”
They climbed out of the tubs and stood on a slab of stone while Lisa washed them down with cool water to remove the mud.
“Who will be first for a massage?” Lisa asked.
“You go first, Stone,” Betty answered. “I want to take a walk.” She left the hut, naked.
Lisa took Stone’s hand and led him to a padded table behind the mud baths. She directed him to lie on his stomach, with his face in an opening for breathing, then, using heated, scented oils, began massaging his back, shoulders, legs, and buttocks. After half an hour she asked him to turn over.
Stone turned over, expecting her to cover his genitals with a towel, but she did not. Lisa began with his neck, face and scalp, then covered his eyes with a cool cloth and worked her way down his body. Stone found himself becoming tumescent and squirmed a little.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” Lisa said. “I’d be hurt if you weren’t feeling just a little excited.”
“More than a little,” Stone breathed.
She laughed. “Good. I’d take advantage, but I have the feeling that your friend would kill us both.”
“I believe you’re right,” Stone said. He heard the bamboo door open and close, but he could see nothing. Suddenly, Lisa’s hands were cooler and much more explorative. “Lisa?” he said.
“Shhhh,” came the reply.
Stone felt her climb onto the table with him, and in a moment, she was sitting astride him.
“Lisa, I’m saying myself for Betty,” Stone said.
Betty burst out laughing. “That was a politic thing to say. Now be quiet; there are things I want to do with you.”
She brought him fully erect, then lifted herself and came down gently upon him.
Stone made little noises. The dry, warm desert air, the soft breeze, and the girl on top of him seemed to be all he had ever wanted in the world. They took each other noisily, then collapsed. After a few minutes, Betty led him to a futon overlooking the valley to the south. She kissed him sweetly, then returned to the table and the waiting Lisa for her own massage.
Stone drifted into a dreamless sleep.
An hour later, Betty crawled onto the futon with him, and they made love again, less urgently this time, slowly and more sweetly. When they had recovered, Betty tugged at his hand. “I want a swim,” she said. “Come with me.”
Protesting mildly, Stone allowed himself to be drawn back up the path, naked, toward the pool. It occurred to him that he had not been nude in front of this many people since the showers at the police academy, where the circumstances were less inviting. He dove into the pool and swam a couple of lazy laps, with Betty alongside him.
“Feel like some tennis?” she asked when they stopped.
“Absolutely not,” he said. “I wouldn’t want to get all tensed up again after all this relaxation. How about tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow is good.” she replied.
They lay naked on lounges beside the pool and drank exotic fruit juices and watched the other guests go by.
“Anybody you know?” Stone asked.
“Not a soul, and that’s fine with me.”
“Me, too,” he said. The last thing he wanted was to run into somebody either of them knew.
Betty caught him glancing furtively at a very beautiful girl as she walked past, naked. “It’s all right to look,” she said, “but don’t touch.”