LUSCIOUS LLONA’S MOTTO IS STILL
“MAKE LOVE, NOT WAR!”
And she really believes in practicing her politics. But problems begin when Llona is sunbathing (nude, of course) on the roof to distract local Air Force pilots — and she sights her husband in the woods of a nearby golf course with a sport-minded beauty.
It rapidly becomes obvious that Llona makes war the same way she makes love — with no effort spared! She joins a Women’s Liberation group and has some of her new friends administer their special brand of revenge on her unfaithful man. There’s Marguerita, a flamenco dancer who sets men aflame — literal1y . . . Stella Spayed, whose home movies aren’t the type a man would expect to watch with her nine children . . . and Anastasia Gluck, a permanent virgin thanks to an erratic surgeon.
With friends Like these, luscious Llona is sure to win the war. All she asks of her misguided mate is that he give her type of peace a chance!
THE NUDE WHO DID
TED MARK
1970
CHAPTER ONE
GIVE
PEACE
A CHANCE!
The sign was finished. It covered the entire area of the flat, tiled roof of the home of Mr. and Mrs. Archer Hornsby. With the first line in bright red, the second in dead white, and the third in electric blue-—-all against a black background-—the lettering was easily visible from five thousand feet. The Air Force couldn’t miss the message.
All that remained for Mrs. Archer Hornsby — nee Llona Mayper — to do was to remove the excess tile from the roof and set up a pair of spotlights so that the sentiment would be seen by night as well as by day. Llona decided to take a rest first. She stretched out under the second word, closed her eyes, and concentrated on the warmth of the sunshine caressing her body.
A few moments later the sun was blotted out by an Air Force training plane swooping low over the roof. When it banked and turned for a second look, Llona guessed that it wasn't the message which was drawing it back. From the way both pilot and student were hanging out of the plane, it was obvious that Llona herself was the attraction.
And quite an attraction she was! The two wisps of bikini she was wearing did little to hide her voluptuous body. Lying on her back, her large, fulsome breasts were aimed at flieslay like rockets of flesh straining to be launched. From above, her long, well-formed legs formed an exciting V merging into the white bikini diaper. The rest was curves -- ample hips, small waist, round shoulders-five-foot-nine of them topped by golden hair fanning out over the tiles. The long tresses framed a face etched by Eros. It was one of those rare female visages whose beauty was shouted down by blatant sex appeal. High, molded cheekbones over delicately hollowed cheeks, a moue of a mouth, red moist on the verge of a kiss, small, pert nose and firm chin softened by a dimple, gold-flecked brown eyes, deep and burning sensually—the features added up to a face which tacitly promised that the magnificent body below was highly functional.
Now the functional body got to its feet and Llona, hands on hips, flaunted her charms in the face of the Air Force. The plane took one more low dip in appreciation of her plump derriere and reluctantly headed back to base. Llona watched it go, her eyes flashing angrily as they swept over the vista of runways and hangars which made up the Birchville U. S. Air Force Training Center.
A year ago when she and Archer had bought this house, the area covered by the base had been woodland. “It’s like having the North Woods for a backyard,” the suburban real estate agent had enthused. Then, the day after they moved in, they had been waked by the sound of bulldozers leveling the trees. Within three months the area was flat as a yeastless pancake. Within six months every blade of wild grass had been cemented over; there were squat buildings where honeysuckle once flowered; planes swooped low for landings and farted jet streams where once orioles had fluttered and chirped; the voice of the turtle was silenced; the roar of military man on the wing became a part of their daily life, twenty-four hours a day; encroaching deafness, perpetually strained vocal chords, and the failing ability to communicate became a very real way of life for Llona and Archer.
They were bitter. Not just because of the proximity of the air base, but also because of the larger issue it represented. Archer and Llona were firmly against U. S. involvement in the war in Vietnam. They were aghast at what they perceived to be the militarization of their country and the base, to them, was a visible symbol of it.
Prior to the sign on the roof, however, they had taken no action to express their view. They had sort of thought of themselves as part of some vague majority committed to silent disagreement. Naturally they were appalled to find their silence interpreted as approval of government policy in a sweeping Nixonian statement embracing the “silent majority.” In part, the decision to put up the sign was a reaction to this.
But the major reason behind the sign was a more direct provocation. It took place some three weeks prior to the day Llona finished tiling the roof. And it affected them on a personal level.
Archer and Llona had just returned from a local peace rally that night. It was the first one they had ever attended. Archer, in particular, was much disturbed by what he had seen and heard.
“Something’s got to be done!” he said. “We’re innocent people! The country itself is becoming brutalized! Something’s got to be done!” he repeated.
“I agree, Archer. But what can we do?” Llona didn’t wait for an answer; she didn’t expect one. “It’s late. Come to bed.” She patted the pillow beside her own.
“We have to do something!” Archer was emotionally distraught, “But what? What can we do?”
“Make love, not war,” Llona purred, letting the sheet slip away from her pink-and-white bosom.
“Each man, each person, each individual has to somehow stand up and be counted, has to make his opposition known!”
“How?” Llona pouted and pulled the sheet aback up. If she couldn’t distract Archer, then it was better to get the discussion over with. “How can you, Archer Hornsby, buck government policy?”
“Maybe I can’t. But at least I can make it plain where I stand.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.” Archer scratched his head. “Put up a sign, maybe,” he said after a moment’s silence.
“What kind of a sign?”
“STOP THE SLAUGHTER IN VIETNAM . . . PEACE NOW . . . GIVE PEACE A CHANCE . . . I don’t know. Some sign like that.”
“Where would you put it?”
“In our front yard.”
“In our yard?” Llona was dubious.
“Sure. Then people would know where -- Hey!” Archer snapped his fingers. “I’ve got an idea. We’ll buy a flagpole. You know, one of those big white ones like they have in front of the American Legion Hall. And we’ll fly the flag at half-mast. And we’ll put up a sign explaining that we’re in mourning for the Vietnam dead.”
“There’s probably some sort of village ordinance against it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Zoning restrictions, you know. Like this is a residential area and you can’t put up signs. Like that.”
“Hell! People around here put up all kinds of signs at Christmas. MERRY XMAS . . . HAPPY NEW YEAR ... PEACE ON EARTH Ha!...”
“That’s different. That’s for Christmas. It’s not political. And the flagpole. I’m not sure there isn’t some sort of local law against that too.”
“Oh, come on! People are always hanging out flags.”