Free Faces of Fear by Graham Masterton Page B

kisses and apple juice. She bit his tongue, bit his lips, and dug her fingernails into his back. They were both panting, as if they run all the way here.
    Abruptly, she stopped kissing him and held him away. Her eyes were dark and excited. “You know what we did?” she asked him. “We were like Adam and Eve, in the Garden of Eden. Now we don’t have to pretend to be innocent any longer.”
    She took two or three paces back. She twirled around, so that her yellow skirt billowed up. Then she stood facing him, and the expression on her face was almost triumphant. Without a word, she lifted up her skirt and bunched it around her waist, revealing long suntanned legs and the fact that she was wearing nothing underneath. Her thighs were so slender that they formed a triangle ofempty space between them. Her pubic hair was as golden as the hair on her head, and shone just as brightly.
    â€œThere,” she said, walking away from him, her skirt still lifted. “The greatest prostitute who ever lived. How much will you pay me?”
    He couldn’t think what to say. Was she serious? Would she really have sex with him for money? Or was she simply making a monkey out of him?
    He glanced around the orchard. Maybe this was some kind of elaborate practical joke that Carl had set up, to show that ‘Gerry the Cherry’ wasn’t so virginal after all. Maybe he was being filmed by a hidden camcorder. But all that he could see were trees and long grass, and they had now walked so far into the orchard that they couldn’t be seen from the hotel.
    â€œMarianne—” he began.
    â€œHow much do you think I’m worth?” she challenged him. “A thousand francs? Two thousand francs?”
    â€œI can’t put a price on it.”
    She let her skirt fall back a little way, although her vulva was still exposed. “You don’t want me?”
    He hesitated for a moment. Then he reached into his back pants pocket and took out his billfold. He took out all that he was carrying – over 7,500 francs – and he held it out to her.
    She didn’t even look at it, and for a moment he was afraid that she had been subjecting him to some obscure test of character, and that he had lost. But then she unfastened her waistband and let her skirt drop into the long grass. She unbuttoned her blouse, and let that fall, too. Finally, without hesitation, she reached behind her and unclipped her bra. Her breasts were bared with a soft double-bounce – huge creamy-pale breasts with nipples as pink as sugar mice.
    She came up to him, completely naked except for her sandals, and kissed him. By now he thought that he was delirious, that this couldn’t be true. Her fine hair floated against his face, and her fragrance almost overwhelmed him. The orchard was so quiet that he could actually hear her stiffened nipples brushing against his shirt. Still she didn’t look at the money. She opened his shirt, and caressed his bare chest. She unbuckled his belt, tugged down his pants, and then lifted his tusk-hard penis out of his shorts. She rubbed it up and down a few times, his huge penis in her small long-fingered hand, the glans leaving glistening moisture on the inside of her wrist.
    â€œNow then,” she whispered, and lay back in the grass, her thighs apart, her knees raised, her arms stretched out for him. He dropped the money and it fluttered and flicked across the orchard. All Gerry could see was that dreamy, girlish smile, and those rounded breasts, and that glistening pale-pink opening with its wavelike lips.
    He knelt down between her legs. She took hold of him and guided him up against her. The feeling of her warm, wet flesh was such a pleasure that he wasn’t sure that he was going to be able to bear it. He pushed into her, and she gripped hold of his buttocks and pulled him as deep as he could go. When he drew out of her again, he felt the gentle breeze cooling the juices that