PART I

 

I noticed her the instant she got on the bus. After you've been riding a cross-country bus for two days straight, the way I had, you welcome anything to get rid of the boredom and to

make you forget how tired and messy you are. The first vague impression I got was that she was a girl, and the second impression almost brought an involuntary whistle to my lips, for her build left no doubt in anybody's mind that she was quite a delicious hunk of girl. Sort of as an afterthought I glanced at her face, but that too, was well worth looking at. She had a perfect classic profile, a smooth clear skin and the most exciting mouth I had ever seen. Her general expression was one of aloof haughty superiority, but that mouth

really sent thrills coursing down my spine* I suppose her mouth was a little too large to be really beautiful, but as she spoke briefly to the bus-driver in paying her fare, her slightly thick lips were so mobile and expressive that I became fascinated in spite of myself. At rest her mouth seemed almost austere, but when she spoke she seemed to pout and I knew I had to talk to her and watch her talk, for those sensuous lips and sultry expression really got through to me where I live.

The bus was not crowded and I am a pretty big guy, so I had been sprawled across both the seats in the row on my side, trying to get comfortable, but now I sat up straight and made room on the other seat, hoping that she would sit down beside me. As my glance flashed over the rest of her she looked even better than I had first thought, and I knew I was going to get acquainted with her or bust a gut trying. Her long wavy dark hair was caught up in the perkiest ponytail I had ever seen, and it jounced and whipped with every motion she made and with every surge of the bus. She was wearing an odd wrap-around sort of dress, but whatever it was, it didn't hide her really terrific female development. Her large firm breasts thrust upward and outward against the restraining material of her dress with such an arrogant display that I knew she was as conscious of their superb beauty

as I was. Below, her waist was cinched in by a wide leather belt to a fantastic slimness which served admirably to emphasise the flaunted fullness above and below. Her hips flared out tautly and smoothly from beneath the belt and then tapered off into smooth thighs which were outlined through her dress as she braced herself against the swaying of the bus. Her full calves and trim ankles ended in pumps which had exaggeratedly high heels but she seemed so accustomed to them that she moved gracefully and surely even in the moving vehicle. Now she turned from the driver and started back in the bus, looking for a seat. I looked directly at her, using my expression, half-pleading and half-condescending, that I knew worked well with a hell of a lot of girls.

I wasn't surprised When she stopped opposite my seat and looked down to where I was sitting, as though trying to make up her mind whether to sit next to me or go on back in the bus for another seat. But what did surprise me was the way she was looking at me. Usually under such circumstances a girl will sort of give a little smile and maybe giggle a little, and then sit down with some word of excuse or apology, as though she was ashamed of what she was doing but was doing it anyway. But this girl wasn't playing by these normal rules at all. She was looking me over with all the arrogance and condescension of a boy picking up a girl. It was obvious that she was deciding whether I was worth her while or not. This gave me a sort of weird thrill, the way anything wholly unusual and unexpected will, but I gave an inward sigh of pleasure and relief when she sat down beside me, even though she did not otherwise acknowledge my presence in any way. No giggles, no smiles, no apologies, no excuses. She just looked me over and then sat down.

Now is probably a good time to tell a little about myself, so you'll realise why I feel the way I do about girls, and know how awful the things were that happened to me as a result of my meeting this girl. My name is Jeff Andrews and I'm going on twenty-five years old. I come from Oxford City, Iowa, and I was on my way to New York with the idea of hitting the big-time and making a fortune.

Oxford City is nowhere near the biggest city in Iowa, but it is the biggest town in Osage County and the county seat. Since I got out of high-school five years ago, I had been working for my uncle's coal and feed company, in the warehouse and driving the truck for deliveries. I never did much in the way of sports or athletics, either in high-school or after, but I did workout every afternoon late at the TOCA with the barbells and weights.

I've always had a good husky build, and the continuous workouts with the weights, following a well-known course of progressive exercises, gave me a really terrific body with muscles bulging everywhere they ought to. Then the county newspaper, the Osage Oracle, had a Mr America Contest, backed by the muscle-building course operators. They had local contests, all over the country I guess, but the one I was interested in was the one in Oxford City.

Even in high-school I had a very glamorous build, and the fact that my uncle was the richest man in town didn't hurt my popularity with the girls any. I always made out fine with girls, being handsome and from a rich family. Most of the fellows I knew were always chasing some girl and they usually had to marry her before they could really catch her, if you know what I mean, but I never had that problem. The girls usually seemed to be throwing themselves at me, and all I had to do was take my pick. And what happened after that was up to me, too. The girls all knew that if they went out with me I would show them a good time and they could be proud of having a date with the handsomest guy in Osage County, but they also knew that I expected to be paid off in the most obvious way that a girl can reward a man. And the nice part about this set-up, for me, was that all the cute and attractive girls around Oxford City seemed to be in competition with each other, not only in getting dates with me, but also in the inspiration and enthusiasm and variety of the ways they would pay me off.

All in all, as you can see, I really had it made, out home in Iowa, and the climax came with the Mr. America Contest. They had the finals of the contest at the Opera House, and there were about a dozen of us fellows in it, We all had to appear in those very small tight swim-trunks and then pose in a number of different ways, all designed to show off our muscles and faces and profiles and figures. The Opera House was full to capacity, and from what I could see, most of the audience was women and girls, and most of the girls were ones I knew and had dated.

In my last appearance, when the contest had narrowed down to just Bill O'Brien and me, I went out on the stage all alone, with everything dark except where the big white spotlight was focused on me. I struck several poses, each one throwing my muscles into high relief and casting shadows that were very dramatic. And I always managed to have my face in profile to the audience, because I know that my profile really mows down the women, with my aquiline nose, firm chin, and wavy blond hair which I wear quite long with a DA effect at my neck. It was funny in a way, but also very exciting for me too, to feel all those women begin to get eager and panting even as they gasped. I suppose it's the same effect that a girl stripteaser can actually feel the men in a burlesque audience yearning and hungering for her body as she flirts and peals and strides around before them. Anyway, I knew that right then I could have picked almost any girl in the audience and asked her to come up on the stage, and then made love to her right there and then, in front of those hundreds of other women.

And she would have been proud to do it, too.

Well, I won our local Mr. America contest, and made the headlines in the Osage Oracle, with my picture all big on the front page, in my most sexy and stimulating pose. And from then on, I think every female in Osage County from the age of twelve to the age of sixty felt that it was her patriotic duty to seduce me. And a hell of a lot of them succeeded, - I saw to that. And did I really go for all this new publicity and the rewards it offered?!!!

It wasn't long after winning the contest that I began thinking of getting out of Oxford City and heading either for New York or Hollywood. I needed new worlds to conquer, and that meant going into pictures or professional modelling, and having real movie-stars and glamour-girls to play a-round with.

With my looks and physique, I figured I had the world by thetail and I was going to cash in now in every way I could. Since I didn't know anything about acting, I took off for New York where I thought I could break into the modelling racket in preparation for storming Hollywood. Now with this girl sitting beside me on the bus, things looked as though they were picking up. She was no different from the girls I'd played around with in Oxford City, - only more glamorous. And the things that had made life so good for me in Oxford City would work on her, too.

"Are you going to New York, too?" I asked her after a minute or so.

She looked slowly toward me and let her eyes travel from my face down before she answered, "Yes. Why?"

So she was going to play hard to get. Well, I knew how to melt that kind of ice. And she certainly was worth softening up even if it took some time. It would be nice to know someone like her when we got to New York where I didn't know anyone. I let my eyes wander casually over her body and then looked away, giving her the benefit of my profile and bulging a few muscles for her to notice. "I'm going there. Then a pause to add emphasis. I'm in show business, you know."

From the corner of my eye I could see her glance at me, taking in details as though she was interested. Then she looked away and asked calmly, "Are you an actor?"

"No. I'm a model. At least, I'm going to be one," I told her and let my eyes concentrate on her high full bosom which thrust out so proudly against her dress.

She seemed to arch her back and push her breasts into even greater prominence as she asked, "Who's your agent?"

That had me stumped. I didn't know any agents and didn't even know I was meant to have one. But, to hell with that. Business could wait till tomorrow in New York. What I

wanted right now was to make a good impression on this terrifically exotic girl, so that I'd be sure to make a score with her as soon as we got off this damned bus. If she had a good place to stay, fine. Otherwise I figured we could shack up in some cheap hotel. One way or another I was going to have this girl, with all her wonderful curves and her exotic sensuous mouth. Just watching her talk was exciting. Then there would be lots of kissing and other things where her mouth would be even more wonderful.

"I don't have an agent," I confessed, trying to appear sophisticated and blasé. "I thought I'd just do it on my own."

Again she looked me over calculatingly, but her manner was different from the way my other girls had looked at me. Just then we passed an accident on the other side of the highway and we both looked over at it. As she twisted slightly for a better longer look, I noticed that her wrap-around dress came open where it was not held together by the tight belt at her slim waist. To my surprise she was exposed all down her side except for the belt. She was wearing a black bra and panties, and from the quick look I got, I would have sworn that they were made of shiny flexible leather, if that idea had not seemed too impossible. Then she swung back to facing forward and I forgot what I thought I had seen in my enthusiasm for the form that I was sure I did see. She continued our casual conversation where it had been interrupted.

"I work out of the J. Walter Conoven Agency. I do some modelling sometimes."

"You sure have what it takes," I complimented her, giving my best smile as I smoothed the waves in my blond hair. "What do you do? Cheesecake?"

"Sort of. You might say it's a kind of cheesecake," she admitted, but I couldn't get her to talk any more a-bout her work. Instead she began asking questions about me, inquiring about many details of my life and background. I was pleased at her interest, and told her a pretty straight story about myself, only adding a few things here and there to make a better impression on her.

And that's the way it went for the rest of the several hours it took for the bus to reach New York. She asked the questions, some of which struck me as being sort of odd and personal, while I did most of the talking, building myself up in her eyes so I'd be sure to score when the chance occurred.

At last we pulled into the huge bus-station in New York and I helped her off with her bag as well as carrying my own. She made some remark about being hot and tired and agreed when I said we ought to have a drink.

In the bar, as soon as we sat down at a table and ordered, she excused herself to go freshen up. I went to the men's room, too, but it was quite a while after I got back to the table before she appeared. We raised our glasses and I said, "Here's to my good luck in meeting you today on the bus. I hope it's just the beginning of some-thing very wonderful between us,"

She waited a moment, staring fixedly at me, before she sipped her drink, and I felt she was still sizing me up somehow, but not in the same way that the Oxford City girls had done it, Then she took a big gulp fro m her glass and said, "I'll drink to that, Jeff. This could turn out to be a very interesting relationship. Now I have a few things to tell you."

I tossed down the rest of my drink, knowing I had her in the bag. It was a sure thing, and really terrific. I signaled the waiter to fill up our glasses again and then raised my eyebrows questioningly as I listened to what she would propose. I knew where we were headed and how it would end up, but I was willing to hear her ideas of the details. I thought I knew so much, but oh how wrong I was.