Fanchon's Book(30)

And the foot kept moving; oh, how good she was to me! wooing me like that even though the victory was already hers. Had she tumbled back on the chaise and spread her legs I would have plunged headfirst between them with no hesitation whatsoever, Or had she sat stiffly and merely uttered that one word-suck-my lips would have slavered their unqualified acquiescence. But that sweet, dainty, wonderful little foot just continued on its merry way, bestowing the largesse

and frightening. "Oh yes, I'll do it to you. With my foot. Like you've never had it before."

Somehow, she managed to brace herself and balance on one leg. I couldn't tell for sure. I knew only the thrust of her violence, that foot-kicking into me, kicking, kicking/-and I fell flat on my back and yet it stayed with me, still doing it, still kicking savagely, smashing away with the force of a brutal battering-ram, driving deep into the slippery shaft of my now erupting passion; nor did it stop until my upheaval ended and the tension drained and I lay weak and trembling in the divine afterlife of the most excruciating and exquisitely lethal orgasm I had ever experienced.

When I returned to earth again, she was seated on the chaise and caressing my head with her toes. I angled my face up to kiss them; she muttered an impatient negative and I realized that her immediate desire was for neither the giving nor the receiving of kisses or caresses. Only cleanliness. I bunched my disheveled hair in both hands and finished the job for her, wiping the precious little foot dry.

"Oh, you do love me, Fanchon. If we could be together… "

"We will, we will. Together. I'll do it."

"Such fun. A holiday for just the two of us." Settled, then. The thing. The not-quite-honest venture. But it all seemed so far away and I was tired, so tired-and I saw her leaning back and spreading her thighs in an invitation that might become a command if I didn't"Fanchon? Too sleepy to suck me?"

Not an invitation, not a command. Just a question.

But I gathered my remaining ounces of energy and made the only possible reply and knew that sleep was as much "out of the question" as if it had never been mentioned.


Chapter 10

A holiday for just the two of us! How quickly and easily it all came about: a peek at my husband's papers, a few words to Kristi, a short wait-and that was that. We were off to laze in the luxury of the sun and the sea. Dolce far niente. For a week, at least, and probably longer.

I didn't dare stretch it too many days, though, considering the dubious yarn I had told Oliver about scrimping and saving and squeezing the money for my much-needed nerve-tonic vacation out of the household budget. He groused a bit, as expected, but he was too busy with affairs of state to make any firm protest, poor dear. I felt sorry for him. But what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him-and anyway, Kristi and I were already on the journey south; the time had come to put all our cares behind us.

All our cares.

Yes, and that included the malaise of my own conscience. The deed was done now, the not-quite-honest thing, and I had even given up stewing over Kristi's unrevealed contacts, the mysterious "people" with the financial know-how. It no longer worried me that such masterminds should be so accessible to a common working girl. (Common?-oh no, far from it: ages ago I had recognized that my golden-haired inamorata was no ordinary servant.) And regardless of the consequences-not that I anticipated any-we had pocketed enough money for our holiday and were hell-bent on enjoying it.

I might have wished for a more auspicious beginning, though. The trip was tedious; we arrived at our destination in a late-night rainsquall and got miserably chilled getting to the hotel; by the time we reached our room Kristi was alternately glum and glowering in weariness and exasperation. On the verge of a tantrum, evidently, and I figured I'd better do something to forestall it, but quick.