Free No Nice Girl by Perry Lindsay Page A

aroused Terry’s impersonal admiration.
    â€œSo you think I’m lacking in sex appeal?” she asked silkily at last, her pretty mouth curling a little as though away from the ugliness of the word.
    â€œTo me, you are,” Terry admitted brutally. “You just don’t—er—arouse the beast within me.”
    â€œMaybe that’s because ‘the beast within you’ has been so thoroughly satisfied by Cousin Phyllis,” she suggested gently.
    Terry’s hands clenched, but he only said mildly, “Could be—could be.”
    She sprang up and said, as though the conversation—the whole subject—had been blocked out, as though it had never happened: “You sit over there while I get the dishes out of the way.”
    â€œOh, I insist on drying them,” said Terry cheerfully, and to her fury his interest in the previous subject seemed also to have been wiped out. “I always pay for my dinner—one way or another.”
    She laughed and agreed and made a very pretty picture, domestic as anything, getting the dishes cleared away and the kitchenette put to rights. When they were back in the living room, she curled up suggestively on one end of the couch. Terry was certain that she had deliberately chosen a pose that tightened the silk along her hip and caused her breasts to thrust themselves provocatively forward, as though struggling to remove themselves from their blue and white bondage.
    Terry was well aware of the game she was playing—it was time someone changed the rules. She was prattling along, apparently completely unconscious of her position, until Terry leaned deliberately forward and touched his lips to the gently swelling roll at the top of the halter’s low line.
    Anice started, and stared at him, and a wave of color crept over her face.
    â€œWhy—why, Terry!” she gasped and put both hands above her breasts protectingly.
    But Terry was not to be put off. His arms went about her, drawing her close to him. He was sharply, stingingly conscious of the fact that beneath the thin silk of the pajamas there was nothing at all except Anice herself—the melting curves, the exquisite contours, all the fresh, warm, appealing loveliness of her.
    For a moment she resisted him; then she went limp in his arms and nestled there, settling herself for hiscomfort as well as her own, and her mouth gave him back his kisses. She was so yielding that Terry forgot himself, forgot to be amused and contemptuous and merely investigating. The sheer primitive appeal of her overwhelmed him and his arms grew more possessive—until suddenly she jerked herself from his arms and stood away from him and gasped, “No! No—how—how dare you!”
    â€œYou started this. I just wanted to see how far you’d take this game. Now I know—you’re nothing but a tease!” he told her, and his voice stung like a whiplash.
    â€œThat’s—that’s not so. I—I’m a decent respectable girl. A nice girl. You—you have no right.” Tears swept over her and her voice was choked with sobs.
    From the doorway a voice said mildly, “Well, well, I do hope I’m not intruding. But after all, I do live here.”
    Terry stiffened and for a moment he did not turn. So that was it. Anice had lost her head; she would have yielded to him. But she had heard the sound of Phyllis’ key in the lock and so she had staged a scene.
    Anice gasped and flung herself at Phyllis, and Terry saw, dazed, that the bow that had held the halter together beneath her breasts was loosened.
    â€œOh, Cousin Phyllis—oh, I’m so glad you’re here. This—this beast tried to rape me!” cried Anice hysterically.
    Phyllis looked at Terry with a sort of dry amusement.
    â€œWhy, Terry, you rogue!” she said gently. “Did you?”
    â€œAbsolutely not! She wasn’t objecting five minutes ago—in fact she’s