“Hush,” Maria sighed. “Hush and kiss me again.”
“I think we may have just missed our chance at being rescued,” I told her, going on to explain about seeing the dog.
“Oh, then don’t worry,” she said. “The rescue party won’t be far behind the animal. What a shame. And we were just getting on so well.” She sighed and fixed her clothing.
Maria was right. A few moments later the rescue party reached us. Inside the hour we were back at the inn. Here Maria gave me a quick kiss good-bye and left to return to her secretarial duties with Herr Friedriksenn.
I went up to my room to soak in a hot tub and reflect morosely on my lack of success in uncovering the scar which would identify Gina Moretti, the first of the trio of harlot heiresses. I’d been up at bat three times, pitched to by each of the three candidates, and I’d struck out three times. That should have meant the side was retired. In any case, it sure meant that I was tired, and so I retired early that night, hoping morning might bring some new inspiration.
What morning did bring was another invitation from Herr Friedriksenn. It was to spend the weekend as a house guest at his villa, and I accepted. When his car picked me up that evening I learned that there was to be another guest --Anna Del Vecchio. She was already in the back of the Rolls when I climbed inside. But her passions were more under control than they had been during our last ride together, and she showed no inclination to play “high school” in the back seat of the car this time.
When we arrived, Maria greeted us, just as she had the first time. Luigi Tortorizzi was with her. It seemed that he too was enjoying the Friedriksenns’ hospitality. Cozy, I thought to myself. The same sextet which had displayed such easy sexual rapport on the last visit. It promised to be a very interesting weekend.
Friedriksenn came down the stairs just as Maria was showing us to our rooms. He paused to apologize to us for the fact that the electricity was out and we would have to use candles. “There was an avalanche yesterday and it knocked down the lines,” he explained. “Really very unusual in these parts. I can’t imagine what started it."
My eyes met Maria’s, and in the flickering glare from the candle I saw that her secretarial composure was a wee bit shaken. She looked back at me and blushed. Then she lowered her eyes and continued up the stairs with Anna and me following behind.
I waited in the hallway as she showed Anna to her room, and then followed along as she led the way to mine. “There is a bathroom connecting,” Maria told me. She opened a door in one of the side walls to show it to me.
I noticed another door in the far wall of the bathroom. “Where does that go?” I asked Maria.
“To Signora Friedriksenn‘s bedroom. You share the bath with her.” The very fact that her voice was so carefully noncommittal seemed insinuating.
“I see," I said.
“Yes. The butler will call you for dinner, Mr. Victor,” she said, as coolly as if we’d never set off an avalanche together. And then she left me alone, closing the door behind her.
I washed up in the bathroom and then got into my dinner jacket. Just as I was re-tying my bow tie for the third time, I heard the latch click on the other side of the bathroom door. There was the sound of running water. I guessed that Carmella Friedriksenn must be having a bath before dinner.
Glancing at the door, I noticed that it had a keyhole. Here was my chance for a possible peek at at least one set of legacy-eligible buttocks. Surely Carmella would have to disrobe for her bath. As eager as any Peeping Tom, I knelt before the door and glued my eye to the keyhole.
She had set a candelabra on the washstand, so there was plenty of light. Carmella stood in front of the full-length mirror, sideways to my gaze, and undressed. She was wearing a sweater and skirt.
The sweater came off first. She stretched then, her magnificent breasts straining at the flimsy bra she wore until it seemed the cups must burst. Then she turned so that she was facing me and reached behind her to unclasp the bra. She put it on top of the sweater on the hamper. Then she plumped up her breasts and studied them admiringly in the mirror. Watching, my admiration surpassed her own. Carmella's gorgeous globes were a masterpiece of mammarian development. Now she was massaging them lightly to remove the traces left by the tight-fitting bra. She caught her breath as the nipples distended under her touch. A look of enjoyment came over her face as she stared at herself in the mirror while her fingers stroked the long, ruby breast-tips.
Then, hastily, she slipped out of her skirt. She paused, noticing that the bathtub was filled, and turned off the tap. Then she turned so that she was facing me as she wriggled out of her half-slip. She wasn‘t wearing any panties. I was beginning to appreciate the fact that she probably never did bother with such superfluous garb. In any case, the dark triangle of her womanhood was quivering with her self-arousal. Her fingers tiptoed through the curls until they found their mark. She closed her eyes and her breathing grew so hoarse that I could hear it now.
A moment later she gave a little cry of pleasure, and it was over. I knew she would have to turn around to climb into the bathtub, and so I switched eyes so as to have a fresh outlook when I should finally get a chance to view her bare bottom in the candlelight. But she thwarted me!
Carmella walked straight toward the door to my room, her hips still rolling with the aftermath of pleasure. And she hung the half-slip on the doorknob, covering the keyhole. My view was completely blocked just as she must have turned around to go back to the bathtub.
Cursing to myself, I quickly reached into the pocket of my dinner-jacket, and came up with a toothpick. I pushed it through the keyhole and poked at the half-slip until it fell from the doorknob. Just as it did, the voice spoke from behind me.
“Research, Mr. Victor?"
I spun around so fast that I lost my balance and sat down hard. It was Friedriksenn. Despite the fact that he looked amused rather than angry, I couldn't think of a thing to reply.
“Don’t be embarrassed, Mr. Victor. I am a man of the world. I find it flattering that you should think my wife worthy of observations.”
“I didn't hear you come in,” I said helplessly.
“I should have knocked. My apologies. I had no idea that you would be so preoccupied. I only wanted to ask you if you would like to join me for a cocktail before dinner. But I really don’t want to interrupt your research studies. Please feel free to resume them and join me at your convenience.” He bowed and left then.
Swiss hospitality! Mentally, I tipped my hat to it. And then I decided to take advantage of it. I bent to the keyhole again.
No luck. Carmella was already in the bathtub. All I could see of her was her face and one luscious breast floating lazily in the water. I decided it would be just too damn obvious to wait for her to get finished before joining Friedriksenn. So I got to my feet and went downstairs.
Friedriksenn's manners were much too impeccable for him to mention the incident over cocktails. Nor did he expose my voyeurism during dinner. Instead, the meal passed with a general discussion of the work of 0.R.G.Y. The topic seemed of greater interest to him than to the others. I guessed that the ladies were more concerned with performance than theory.
But there was no particular action planned for that evening. After dinner Friedriksenn seemed more anxious to retire than anything else. It was shortly after eleven that he excused himself. A few moments later Anna Del Vecchio confessed that she too was quite tired and went up to her room. That seemed the signal for the rest of us, and so we all said our good nights and went off to bed.
I couldn’t sleep. I simply had to get a look somehow at those three female fannies. The problem of how was bugging me enough to keep me awake. After an hour or so, with the chalet as quiet as a chloroformed graveyard, I decided the time had come to do a little surreptitious investigating. I put on my bathrobe, fished the pencil flashlight from my suitcase, and slipped out of my room. I remembered that Maria’s room was across the hall from mine. I tiptoed across the hallway and tried the doorknob. It was open. I slipped noiselessly inside the room.