At the far end of the room a drapery parted and a figure emerged to greet me.
I couldn’t tell whether it was a bosomy man or an angular woman. A frilly white blouse was parted at the neck to reveal a thick growth of hair on the chest, but on either side of this hirsute cleavage, pancake mounds made the material stand out. Tapered slacks made the hips seem flat and masculine, but the way the legs were hugged revealed a shapeliness that was decidedly womanly. The hair was flapper-bobbed or Teddy-boy long, take your choice. The puff-cheeked face was ruddy with rouge, but the full lips were pale, bare of lipstick, and the pinpoint eyes with the long lashes had only the barest outline of eye-shadow.
It fluttered up to me. “So happy to welcome you,” it said in a voice that managed to be male, female, and neuter, all at the same time. “I am Madam Svitch-Hittinga. What is your pleasure?” This in Spanish.
“I’m Steve Victor from O.R.G.Y.,” I told it. I went on to explain about the research organization. “I am doing a survey on the sexual behavior of American girls abroad,” I improvised. “I have heard that you have one such girl working here.”
“We have a few. You are welcome to meet them. But I'm afraid their time must be paid for.” Its English was quite good and it had switched over to it quite easily after hearing me speak in my native tongue.
“I’m quite willing to pay. But there is one girl in particular that I’d like to meet. I’ve heard some interesting talk of a certain redhead . . .”
“You must mean Barbara.”
“Yes. I believe that’s the name that was mentioned.”
“I am afraid that she is not alone at the moment.”
“Do you mean she has a client?" I asked.
“No. But she is occupied. Still-—” A cruel smile ghosted across the face, a look of malicious irony. “Why shouldn‘t she be interrupted?” it decided. “Catching her off-guard, as it were, might give an invaluable insight to your research. She may be annoyed, but she’ll get over it. Come with me."
I followed it through a drapery and up a long, narrow staircase. It paused outside the closed door to a room. “She is in there," it told me. It opened the door without knocking and gave me a gentle push. “Go on in, Mr. Victor."
I moved into the room. The door closed behind me. It was completely dark. Then, suddenly, the dazzling light of a million stars exploded inside my head. A sharp, skull-shattering pain, and the floor went out from under me. My brain escaped the exploding pinpoints of light by plunging into its own darkness of oblivion.
I pulled the blackness in after me, and it was all I knew then. Just the mindless blackness. Only the blackness!
CHAPTER TEN
LIGHT STUCK its fingers in my eyes and pried open the lids. A sharp sliver slipped behind the peepers and stabbed my brain back to awareness. The awareness was pain which slowly gave way to a dull throbbing at the back of my head.
Gingerly, my hand touched the spot. My scalp had sprouted an egg with a shell of broken skin and matted hair over a yolk of crunched bone. It hurt like hell. I wondered what the devil had hit me.
My eyes supplied the answer. A spike-heeled woman’s shoe, steel-tipped at the heel lay on the rug a few inches from my nose. Dizzily, I pulled myself up on my elbows to look for the shoe’s owner.
What followed was one of those moments of utter disorientation. It was as if I'd fallen back into a stray moment out of the recent past. For a long, uncomprehending instant, it was as if I’d stepped through that door to the hotel room next to Mendes’ suite in Pamplona. The same two-headed, double-breasted, naked female figure formed a pattern on the bed. And then, just as it had that first time, the figure separated, the optical illusion turned to reality, and I grasped the lewd tableau of two girls with their legs locked together scissor fashion in the writhing act of making lesbian love.
I got hold of myself and took another look. No, I hadn't stepped back into the past. These two girls were really quite different. One of them, the shorter one, had lustrous ebony skin and the flowing black hair typical of the truly beautiful Moorish woman. The other was a redhead, tall and slender, with breasts shaped like over-plump bananas. And sleep had definitely not overtaken them as it had those two girls back in Pamplona. No, they were as wide-awake in their way as their intentness on what they were doing would permit.
Unsure of just where I stood and why, I remained quiet, allowing the strength to flow back into my body as I watched them. They made a magnificent contrast as they thrashed about, the lustrous ivory tones of the redhead’s skin first enveloping and then being enveloped by the sculpted ebony flesh. They clasped hands now, their lower bodies still clinging together and moving rhythmically. They used the clasp to pull themselves to a sitting position, and the pointed scarlet tips of the jet-black breasts dueled teasingly with the lighter, rose-red nipples dangling upward from the creamy white bosom. They kissed, a long, lingering kiss as if they were trying to swallow each other up, a final kiss timed to last through this final release of their pleasure. Then their hips rose in unison from the bed, and their lower bodies ground together in an emulation of the kiss until the release was attained, had reached its peak, and finally subsided.
They fell back, away from each other. I thought they were drained of passion. I was wrong. They had only whetted their appetites. It was only a moment or two later that the redhead re-initiated their lust.
Her scarlet gash of a mouth with its hint of cruelty at the corners swooped down to forage between the plump black breasts. The tongue darted like a snake to deliver a rapid series of kisses to the deep-cleft valley separating the quick- breathing hillocks. A moan of renewed arousal escaped the lips of the dark-skinned girl as the other’s lips formed an O around the reddish-brown roseate center-pointing one breast. She reached out a well-manicured hand and lightly raked the white back with her nails. The redhead’s mouth darted to the other breast, caught the flesh between small, sharp teeth and gently nipped. “Oh!” the Mooress cried aloud and reached down to scratch the high, beautifully molded derriere of the white girl.
And now the redhead pulled away. She rose up on her knees and grasped the other by the hips. The wide hips flaring out from the narrow waist writhed in the grip, and the shapely, slightly fleshy black thighs oscillated like two hands tossing a potato which was too hot to handle back and forth. Green eyes shone at this reaction, and a fine film of passionate perspiration formed on the redhead’s brow. Quickly, she flipped the Mooress over on her belly, and once again her mouth swooped down. None too gently now, she bit into the plump black flesh just over the backs of the quivering thighs. The Mooress flung her arms out over her head in a spasmodic gesture of combined excitement and pain. A small dot of blood flecked the redhead’s lips as she finally stopped biting.
Immediately, the shorter girl turned over on her back again. Her breasts strained toward the ceiling like twin dark mountains now. And the curly hair covering her womanhood parted to reveal a little finger of throbbing redness. Noticing this, the redhead moaned and her fingers tangled in the dark curls in an effort to grasp it.
The caress drove the Mooress wild. She rose up to a sitting position and tugged at the redhead until the long, white legs were stretched out across her lap. Then that wondrous mantle of midnight-blue hair fanned out over the flat white belly as she leaned down to bestow a caress which caused a color-clash between her dark maroon tongue and the rust-red of the magic triangle.
It was the redhead’s turn to moan now. Her thighs clenched tightly together as she bounced up and down under the maddening tongue and the suction of the lips. Expertly, as if delicately drawing forth an oyster from its shell, the Mooress got her target between her lips and suckled it until it expanded unbelievably. It was the reaction of a truly experienced lesbian. Only long practice and expert muscular control enables a girl to react this way. I noted this as perhaps having more importance than immediately occurred to me.