Dirk shrugged. “The first one who reaches you who isn’t marked wins,” he said. “Mr. Blue will have to be careful after he darts you.” He looked around. “Agreed?”
Heads nodded.
“But without a referee right there on the scene, I can see disagreements over that,” she pressed. “And I can’t very well have Mr. White follow me on the cart — that would give me away.”
Surprisingly, Bollinger came up with the answer. “Well, I wasn’t going to do this because this was a special hunt and everyone was going to be, uh, unclothed. But we could outfit everyone with the video cameras. If there was a disagreement, we could go to the tape.”
Heads began nodding all around. “Wait,” put in Jake. “Are weapons transferable? In other words, if Mr. Blue here gets painted, can one of us pick up his weapon?”
Bollinger nodded. “Good point. What’s the consensus?”
“Transferable,” Jackson and Dirk said simultaneously. Jake nodded.
“Okay, then. Weapons can be picked up—but only to a man who’s unmarked,” Bollinger said. “I think we have an agreement.”
“Um,” Steve broke in, embarrassed. “What about the shaving part? Are we still going to do that?”
The men smiled a little at Steve’s apparent fetish. “What, like second prize?” Jackson said derisively. “In a winner-take-all contest? Let the winner do that—if he wants to.”
Amy reddened as the men discussed what was to become of her private parts.
“Tell ya what, Mr. Blue,” Dirk put in. “Let’s make that the booby prize. First one eliminated gets to shave her — after the winner is finished, of course.”
There was laughter all around—and instant agreement.
“Wait—one final point,” Amy jumped in before they could finalize the new deal. “The bloodhound stays home. I don’t want my position given away.”
“Of course,” Dirk said. “Agreed?”
Everyone nodded. Even Amy thought it was more than fair. She planned to put as much distance between them and her as possible and stay hidden. Once the half-hour was up, she could look for the booth, and use the paint guns to keep them at bay. She was still at a disadvantage in weaponry, but overall, she felt she had a much better chance.
“That will change the equipment requirements, you realize,” Bollinger said. “If Amy is going to be returning fire, all of you must wear goggles to prevent eye injuries.”
The men weren’t thrilled by the idea of wearing goggles in this heat, but they understood it was necessary.
A new agreement was drawn up and signed. Bollinger didn’t like it, but he had to admit it was more because he hadn’t thought of it himself. In retrospect, it was a solid plan. He made a mental note to steal the idea for himself later.
After dinner, Bollinger took Amy aside and suggested that too much familiarity might affect her chances tomorrow. She didn’t disagree and slipped away as the men retired to the den to smoke and have their after-dinner brandies.
Jake caught her eye before she left. “Good luck tomorrow,” he said softly. She thought he really meant it. She nodded shyly in return.
The men stayed up for awhile, swapping hunting stories and sharing jokes, drinking nightcaps until 11 p.m. They studiously avoided talking about their failed hunt of the day before, as the one tomorrow was completely different in scope and rules.
All in all, they were a very confident bunch who said their goodbyes that night.
Jake retired to his room and stripped off his clothes. He wanted to get right to sleep, so he’d be sharp tomorrow, but there was something eating at him. That woman—girl, almost—had a hold on him. He wished he had met her somewhere else. Chasing her down like a deer would probably ruin his chances of ever getting a date with her.
Duh—ya think? He snorted at himself.
Unconsciously, his hand drifted down to his cock, which was swelling even at the thought of her. He touched the shaft gently, stroking it as he let his mind wander. He could imagine a date with her easily. A quiet dinner at his favorite spot, Splash, along the waterfront, followed by some after-dinner drinks. Jake knew the chef there. He’d ask him to make up something special for them, just to impress her.
He knew they’d hit it off. Talk would come easily, as if they had been friends for years. He thought of afterwards, as he drove her home. She’d be feeling good. They’d stop outside her apartment—no, he’d want to show her his place. She’d be curious as to what a dotcom millionaire’s house looked like.
His hands wrapped around his shaft as he imagined her expression when she saw his house. “Oh, my, Jake, you have excellent taste,” she’d say.
“I know what I like,” he’d respond, taking her hand and kissing it. She’d blush, knowing what he meant.
They’d have one more drink by the fireplace in the library. An educated woman like Amy would love the library. He’d lean in close and touch the side of her face, telling her how pretty she was. She’d smile and look down, trying to be modest.
He stroked himself harder now as he pictured himself lifting her chin to kiss her on the lips, just gently, like a butterfly’s kiss. Her mouth would open to his, sucking at him hungrily. He’d kiss her hard, letting his hand come around to unzip the back of her dress. Her clothes would slip off easily.
The sight of her naked for the first time would pierce his heart. Not like on the hunt, which was crass and crude by comparison. No, she’d be willing, wanting him. He would reach down and touch her bare breast, listening to her slight intake of breath. He’d kiss her neck, let her feel his fingers tracing a light pattern down her stomach to her secret garden.
He’d gently kiss her stomach, listening to her sighs. Fingertips would dance across her heated skin. Moving lower, he’d inhale the aroma of her womanhood. It would be intoxicating, he knew.
She would be wet, of course. When his tongue first touched her, she’d arch her back and make keening sounds deep in her throat. He loved to bring pleasure to a woman this way and he’d found women really appreciated it. Not all men enjoyed oral sex—a concept he couldn’t fathom.
He would bring her to her first orgasm gently, licking her, flicking her clit as she wiggled and gasped until her release took hold. He’d let her rest a few minutes, enjoying the glow.
She would want him badly now. As his hand pumped his cock, Jake imagined her hands on it, finally. Amy would have a delicate touch, as if she was unsure what to do with it. As his fingers slid along her wet slit, she would become bolder and wrap her hand around his cock and begin stroking harder.
He would press her down onto the couch. Her legs would fall open for him, giving him complete access to her core. He’d be gentle at first, easing the head of his cock between her labial lips, gazing into her eyes. When she was ready, he’d plunge in with one stroke, feeling her tight, wet cunt drawing him in. He’d begin moving back and forth, increasing the pressure on his hard cock…
With a groan, Jake came in a spurt, white cream flying over the bedsheets. His thoughts of Amy faded. Embarrassed, he grabbed a tissue and mopped up.
“Jeez, gal, I’d give you the hundred grand if you’d go out with me,” he murmured. He was sure after tomorrow, she’d never want to see any of them ever again.
He sighed, the long overdue guilt settling in. He could hardly blame her.
Chapter Twelve
Amy was up at 6:30, nervously pacing the room. She had slipped on the dress she wore the night before, leaving the underwear on the bed. She felt more comfortable with some clothes on, at least for a while.
Bollinger came in at 7, as promised, and brought her a plate of food. He paid no attention to her dress. “Are you ready for the hunt, my dear?”
“Yes, as ready as I’m going to be.” She looked at him sharply. “This contest had better be like we agreed.”
“Of course, my dear. I have a reputation to maintain.” He excused himself.
The group ate breakfast silently, thinking about the hunt. Truth be told,
they were more worried about running naked than winning. What seemed like a good idea in the heat of the moment last night now caused acute embarrassment. Most felt like a schoolboy who had agreed to appear in a play, only to develop severe stage fright on opening night.
Three of the four men had dressed for breakfast. Only Jake, “Mr. Green,” came dressed in a robe and tennis shoes. Everyone assumed he was naked under it. The other men felt he was showing off a little because he was the youngest.
Bollinger tapped his empty orange juice glass with a spoon. “Gentlemen, we’re going to draw for weapons. Because of the agreement last night, we’ll only be drawing for the net gun.”
Jake, Jackson, and Dirk put their names in the coffee can. Bollinger picked a net gun out of the rack and held it up, then reached into the can with his free hand. “Jackson,” he said.
Jake and Dirk breathed sighs of relief. Jackson, however, wasn’t concerned. Now that Amy was going to have a weapon, they all had to change their plans of attack. Jackson wanted to make sure she ran out of ammunition before he moved in. The net gun wouldn’t be a disadvantage. Besides, I may end up using it on Dirk anyway, he mused.
Bollinger passed out the bolo guns, then took out a paint pistol for Amy. He counted out eight paint balls and loaded them into the hopper. He looked at his watch. “It’s 7:30. I suggest you all get undressed for the hunt and return here. We still have to outfit you with the video gear.”
The men nervously retired to their rooms, except Jake, who simply dropped his robe, unabashed. “I’m ready when you are, Mr. White.”
Amy was escorted out of her room about 15 minutes later. She was again naked, dressed only in her running shoes. Just before Bollinger arrived, she had looked down and said a silent goodbye to her downy hair.
Chapter Thirteen
The men were ill at ease even before Amy walked in. They were all naked, but where they were lumpy and bumpy, she was all smooth curves. Steve turned aside, embarrassed, trying to hide his limp cock and flabby belly. The others used their guns to cover themselves. Except Jake. He just stood there, taking her in and letting her see his nakedness.
Amy laughed silently at the other men’s discomfort. Serves you right, you perverts!
Her eyes were drawn to their limp cocks—she couldn’t help herself. Mentally, she wondered if the size of their cocks had any bearing on their hunting ability. If so, Mr. Red would be the one to watch out for—his soft penis hung down a good two inches beyond the others. Mr. Black’s cock was above average, staying true to the stereotype she’d heard about black men’s big dicks. Mr. Blue’s was all shriveled and surrounded by gray-white hair. Ewww! Mr. Green’s, she was pleased to see, was a close second to Mr. Red’s. For the briefest second, she imagined it sliding into her.
She shook her head to clear the image and scolded herself. You have work to do, Miss Dellacroix!
They had to stand quietly while Bollinger strapped the video gear on them. It consisted of a small video camera the size of the cap to a cheap pen attached by cable to a fanny pack containing the battery and the transmitter. Each signal would be transmitted to a separate video recorder in the main house.
Bollinger ran the cable up between their shoulder blades to baseball caps on everyone’s head. Amy wrapped her hair up and tucked it underneath her cap.
She couldn’t help but notice a few minutes later, when Mr. White silently handed each man a flat foil packet—condoms. They slipped them into the fanny packs, keeping their eyes averted from her.
Bollinger passed out sunscreen and urged everyone to slather it on. “You might be out there for hours, you never know,” he said.
“Hah! You white boys shore look like you could use it,” Jackson laughed.
Reluctantly, the other men passed around the tube, keeping their eyes on Amy as she rubbed the liquid onto her shoulders, breasts and the rounded curve of her ass.
“Want some help?” She turned to see Mr. Green standing there, nodding at the tube she held in her hand.
Amy blushed. “Um, just on my back, okay?” He took the tube from her. All the other men eyed him with envy. Jake rubbed it into her shoulders, moving down her back to the soft curve of her ass.
She reached down and lightly touched his hand. “Careful,” she said. “I think I can take if from here.” The other men snickered.
Amy tried to hide it, but she could feel herself growing wet. She wasn’t sure if it was Mr. Green or the upcoming chase. Her attraction to the man was physical, yes, but there was something primal about this hunt that affected her as well. It seemed to go beyond her memories of camp. Perhaps they were reverting to the caveman in all of us, she mused. Was that how it was for a female Neanderthal? Getting chased down by the strongest man in the tribe, then dragged off to be mated? It probably was. Now history may repeat itself.
By 8:05, they were ready to go. Amy led them out on the porch this time, unwilling to act the part of the victim. She cradled the paint gun against her left forearm. The men trailed behind, getting a good look at the firm globes of her ass. Three of the men wished they were ten years younger again.
Bollinger passed out the goggles. “Gentlemen—and lady—you’ve all agreed to the new rules. My assistant left earlier this morning in a cart to secure the booth. He will listen for my shot, telling him that Amy’s five-minute head start has begun. He will check his watch and exactly thirty minutes later, he’ll unlock the booth and start returning to the lodge. He won’t fire immediately, however. That’s so he won’t give away the exact position of the booth. Once he’s safely away, he’ll fire two blasts of his shotgun, letting you know the booth is open.
“Amy, after you’ve started, I’ll wait five minutes, then fire two shots to let you know that the men have been released. Gentlemen, if the prey is captured or if she reaches the booth, I’ll fire three shots to let the rest of you know the game is over. Is everybody ready?”
The men nodded, hanging back under the porch. Amy stood near the front steps, again visualizing the sweep of property before her. One booth. It could be anywhere. If she guessed wrong, she probably would lose. Last time she went south and found one. Is the only booth north this time? She debated.
Behind her, Bollinger raised the Pistol. “GO!” he shouted, simultaneously firing a shot into the air. The noise again galvanized Amy into action. She jumped off the porch and cut left, heading straight down the gravel road toward the gate.
All eyes watched her until she ran around a corner out of sight behind the row of trees, her athletic body making the men ache with desire.
“Four minutes, thirty seconds,” Bollinger said.
Chapter Fourteen
Amy ran straight for the gate. She hoped that by running along the well-worn road, she might add a few precious yards between her and her pursuers. She had nearly three miles to the gate.
Amy had a crude plan—she didn’t even know if it would work. She wanted to find the booth, then look for a place to hide for thirty minutes, paint gun or no paint gun. She knew that if she got into a showdown with the four armed men, she would lose. Mr. Blue, for one, could just stand off 50 yards and pick her off with his long gun.
When she was a half-mile away from the lodge, she turned south, making a large looping turn 180 degrees back. She wanted to come in well behind the lodge going east just as the men were heading in the opposite direction on her false trail. Then, she’d continue east until she neared the fence. At that point, she’d have to decide—north or south?
“Two minutes, gentlemen.”
The men on the porch were agitated now, ready to go. They gathered near the steps, their nudity forgotten as they visualized the running woman in their minds. They gripped their guns tighter. Everyone was thinking about winning and what that would mean to him.
To Steve, it would show that he still has what it takes, even though he’s much older then the other men. To Dirk, it would vindicate his suggestion that they change the rules. Winner-take-all was much more appealing to
him. To Jake, it meant he would be able to have his girl. The money was secondary. He saw the way she had looked at him.
Only Jackson had an ulterior motive today. He still burned over Dirk’s “accidental” shooting, just as he was about to claim his prize. He knew it was no accident. Jackson wanted the girl, sure, and the money—but what he really wanted was to see Dirk go down in defeat. If he needed a push, he’d be happy to provide it.
“One minute,” Bollinger said.
Amy’s breath came in gasps. She had tried to cover too much ground too fast, she realized—and now she was almost back where she started. From her position, she couldn’t see the gravel road through the line of trees, but she thought she might be able to hear them pounding along it. She knew the gunshots would be coming any second now.
There were plenty of bushes and trees to cover her position, although there were also plenty of gaps. She would have to be careful not to be spotted. She jogged on. Ahead, through the trees to the northeast, she spotted the lodge. She slowed now, conserving her strength, waiting for the men to be released.
“GO!” Bollinger shouted, firing the Pistol in the air twice. The shots echoed over the property. The men all jumped off the porch and gave chase, heading west down the gravel road. Only Steve hung behind, already trying to conserve his energy.
Amy heard the shots clearly, then hunkered down behind a large tree. She knew she should keep running, but she was afraid someone would catch a glimpse of her. Her plan would be ruined then.
She didn’t have to wait long. The pounding of feet alerted her and she hid, breathing hard, trying not to panic. She risked a peek through a gap in the bushes and spotted Mr. Red jogging by, his dick flapping as he ran. Right behind him came Mr. Black, then Mr. Green, and finally, Mr. Blue, holding the tranquilizer gun across his chest. Amy ducked again and waited until the pounding of feet passed by.
She got up and ran.
Trackers Page 5
