by Lou Cameron
He nodded and said, “I noticed. I was there. But that was months ago. The story going around is that Her Majesty is interested in Honduran real estate this season. True?”
She frowned and replied, “Ridiculous. The queen was dreadfully upset over that Venezuelan crisis and as a matter of fact ordered a lot of people in the foreign office sacked for getting into such a sticky wicket with you Yanks. Nobody was, of course, but this would hardly be the time to have another border incident. Besides, now that I think about it, we don’t have a border to dispute with Honduras. I know everyone mixes Honduras and our British Honduras up, but they’re different countries and isn’t there another one between them?”
“Guatemala.” He nodded, with a frown, adding, “It doesn’t make sense, even for bananaland, but we were told Honduras is arming for a British invasion and there’s no way you Brits can get at them without invading Guatemala first!”
Cynthia stood up as she shrugged and said, “Someone’s been pulling your leg and, speaking of pulling legs, I’ve decided to let you fuck me.”
He stared up at her, slack jawed, as he saw she was starting to unbutton her bodice. He asked, “Just like that?” and she said, “Of course not just like that. I had to get used to the idea first. But you’re not bad looking and I can see you’re not one of those dreadful chaps who leap at a woman like a perishing rabbit. What’s the matter, don’t you want me?”
By this time she had one breast exposed but had stopped undressing with a puzzled frown. Her perky pink nipple was standing at attention in a way that belied her desperately cool tone and hinted at lots of fire under all that ice. He laughed and said, “Of course I want to. But I’m not sure I can. I’ve, ah, already made love to two women this evening.”
“Oh? Pity. I thought you just arrived. I do so hate to find myself in these ridiculous positions, but it’s getting late and...”
He saw she was hurt by his polite rejection despite her light banter. He stood to peel off his jacket and said, “What the hell, neither of them were as pretty as you, but you will be gentle, won’t you?”
She laughed, a trifle hysterically, and proceeded to shuck herself like an ear of corn as he began to understand better. An arranged marriage to an open and flagrant sodomite had obviously embittered her and she really wasn’t as sophisticated as she let on about these sordid little attempts at tit for tat. As she dropped her dress around her feet and stood hands on hips in nothing but her stockings and high button shoes she asked, “Well, how do you like me so far?” as cool as a cucumber, but he noticed she was breathing hard, as well as blushing like a rose. His own heart was speeding up as he tossed his own clothes aside to step over to her in the nude and take her in his arms. She said, “I see you came to our party armed with a gun,” and then as he kissed her to shut her up his shaft rose to the occasion and as she felt it against her soft belly she sighed and added, “Oh, you seem to be armed indeed!”
The Oscar Wilde dialogue was beginning to bore the shit out of him. You had to be a woman or an elderly English fairy to talk that way without sounding like a sniggering sophomore. So he scooped her up, carried her back to the bed, and lowered her gently to the covers, kissing her along the way. As he ran his free hand down her trembling torso, she stiffened and gasped, “Wait. I’m not sure I want to!”
He left his hand where it was, palm on her lower belly and fingertips just touching her upper pubic hairs as he shrugged and said, “Okay, but you sure picked a lousy time to change your mind.”
She sighed and closed her eyes as she said, “You’re right. I have been beastly. You must think I’m a dreadful tease.”
He kissed her again, lightly, and said, “No, I think you’re a lady who’s been hurt. You want to talk about it?”
“My God, do you really have that much self-control?”
He didn’t know if he would have, had he not just left Golondrina sleeping off a long hot session and, to his surprise, he was hard as a rock for this strange little mixture of fire and ice. Taking advantage of nature, he told Cynthia, “You can tell I want you. That’s not a candy cane against your hip. But I’ve given up rape for Lent.”
“I don’t like being raped.” She sniffled, adding, “I was raped on my wedding night. Raped in my arse. My bridegroom said all the fashionable people did it that way. It hurt like hell. And when I tried to go home to my parents they said not to be so middle class. The Favershams have always been a bit odd, but they’re in Burke’s Peerage and a good wife’s expected to make certain allowances.”
He nodded and noticed she didn’t resist when he moved his hand an experimental couple of inches into the meadowlands. He said, “A girl could get raped propositioning total strangers at drunken brawls, too.”
She said, “I have been. More than once. But anything’s an improvement over my husband’s approach to sex.”
“Do you like getting raped, Cynthia, or is it just revenge?”
“A little of both, I suppose. A woman does have feelings, and Ivor and I haven’t been having sex of any variety for quite some time so … oh, that feels nice.”
He’d figured it might when he slid two fingers into the groove between her thighs and began to gently rock the boy in the boat. He really didn’t want to hear any more about her married life. It sounded depressing as hell and his own sexual appetite was a little confused at the moment. The cool aristocratic beauty of Cynthia was enough of a contrast to that of the younger browner girl downstairs to intrigue him, but he really had worked the hell out of his old organ grinder tonight and now that the novelty of sudden nudity was fading, it was threatening to droop.
Cynthia placed her own hand on the back of his to make his ringers move faster as she opened her thighs and sighed, “Kiss me. I’m ready.”
So he kissed her and rolled into the saddle, just in time. As he got it in position it was already at quarter staff and he’d have never gotten it in if she hadn’t been well lubricated with repressed desire and helping him by opening wide to say “Ah!”
She said “Ooh, nice!” as well as “Ah” and as she wrapped her arms around him and locked the high button shoes over his rump, Captain Gringo felt himself rising to suit the occasion and knew they’d make it. Just. He figured he had maybe one charge left in his magazine and he knew it wouldn’t kill him if he failed to come at all before the dumb thing just gave up for the night. But he felt sorry for the poor English girl, and if he didn’t need it as badly as he was letting on, she did—a lot more than she was willing to admit. So he pretended he was riding the old Apache trail at a tiresome but mile-eating cavalry trot as he posted in her saddle, trying to keep it up by telling himself dirty stories.
It helped, a little, to remind himself of all the nights he’d spent hard up and alone, wishing he had a woman, any goddamn woman, and thinking what that other Captain Gringo would say if he knew that some night he’d be actually inside a cool and creamy cunted doll like this. But that was the trouble with food and sex. No matter how often you’d gone to bed hungry, there was just no way to regain your appetite once you were stuffed with food or drained of passion.
He knew he was doing something right, though, when Cynthia began to go crazy in his arms, sobbing dumb love words she couldn’t have meant as she drummed on his buttocks with her soft kid shoes. She was rolling her head from side to side, eyes closed and teeth bared in what was either a grimace or a smile as her firm breasts heaved under him. He wished there was a mirror in this room. Maybe that would have inspired him. He was starting to sweat, his tool was at half-mast inside her, and this whole thing was starting to turn into a fucking chore!
He raised himself on locked elbows to get a more interesting view of what he was doing. He could see, objectively, that the girl he was laying was beautiful, possessing a flawless figure carved from love flushed pink candy. He looked down and could see his shaft parting the light brown hair between her spread thighs as she unlocked her ankles to offer her groin in complete abandon, waving her feet at the ce
iling. It sure beat pissing, but he didn’t think he’d ever be able to come again.
She could, and she did, screaming aloud in mingled passion and surprise as she dug a heel into the mattress on either side and lifted her hips to swallow him alive. He let himself go limp atop her, relieved to be able to take a break and hoping she was satisfied.
She wasn’t. She kissed .him hungrily, milking him with her subsiding vaginal contractions for a long sweet interval before she sighed and said, “Oh, I say, that was smashing. Did we really come together?”
“Didn’t you feel it?” he replied, evasively. She placed a palm on either of his buttocks and pulled him deeper as she purred, “Oh, didn’t I ever! You say your name is Dick? We’re going to have to do this more often. I’d better give you my card before we leave.”
He started to say he’d be leaving Costa Rica before that was likely. But he’d come up here to gather information, not to volunteer it. So he said he’d remind her when they put their clothes back on. She asked him what time it was. He said, “Beats me. My watch is in my pants. I guess it must be after three in the morning. Why?”
“I have to think about getting dressed and rejoining my husband, damn it. We make a point of breakfasting together on the terrace at home every morning. Must keep up appearances for the natives and all that rot. By the way, are you married?”
“Not exactly, but I guess you could say I’m, ah, involved.”
“Good. Makes it much more discreet in front of the Costa Rican diplomatic set. They tend to be rather stuffy Papist blighters. Always gossip about white people who can’t be accounted for at bedtime. But if Ivor and I are nominally living together and you’ve been connected with someone by the local gossip mongers ...”
“Gotcha. You and your husband must spend some interesting siestas.”
“Rather. Although he’s the one with a steady lover, the sod. Not the chap you saw him with this evening, by the way. He screws a Royal Marine at the embassy during the siesta. Naturally his steady girl didn’t have the rank to come with us to this party tonight. I don’t think you and I should do this at my house, however. Servant gossip can be such a bore. Where do you suggest we spend our own siestas, Dick?”
“Uh, we’ll work something out when I get back. I have to run over to Panama for a few weeks, I’m afraid.”
“Oh, drat, just as I was getting my second wind, too. If I won’t be able to see you for a time we’d best make up for it by getting all we can right now, then. I’m sure Ivor will understand if he’s looking for me at the moment.”
Captain Gringo repressed a sigh as he moved experimentally. He was still inside her, of course, but during the short conversation he’d gone almost completely limp. Cynthia noticed. She laughed and said, “I say, you have shrunk a bit since I tried you on for size. Do you think we’ve exhausted the possibilities for now?”
He decided he liked her better, now that he saw she was a good sport. He said, “That’s the trouble with pillow conversations: they get so conversational. But I think we can manage another.”
He wanted to. He knew he’d never forgive himself if he gave up anything this nice without coming at least once in her, and he doubted he’d ever see Cynthia Faversham again, damn it. She said, “Roll over on your back and let me earn my just reward, then.”
He withdrew and rolled over, expecting her to get on top and looking forward to it. But the cool looking English girl didn’t mount him when she got on her hands and knees. She took his limp shaft in hand and began to kiss it to make it well. He closed his eyes with a hiss of pleasure as he felt her pursed lips sliding up and down his semi-erection. He knew she’d studied French before, and he was glad. She was fantastically good at it.
He’d thought he’d locked the door. For he’d distinctly heard the latch click. So he was surprised as well as embarrassed when he heard it open. He opened his eyes, too. Ivor Faversham was standing there, fully dressed, with a bemused expression on his cynical face. His wife took her lips from the tall American’s tall shaft and said, “I’m not ready to leave yet, dear.”
Her husband said, “So I see. I’ll wait by the bar. But do hurry it up, ol’ girl. The party’s breaking up and I’m terribly tired.”
Captain Gringo couldn’t believe it when Cynthia started sucking him again with her husband watching. But what the hell, he could be “civilized” too, so he said, “I’ll be happy to escort her home, Faversham.”
Faversham shook his head and said, “Unthinkable. Must keep up appearances for the neighbors, what? You two just finish here and as I said, you’ll find me in the bar.”
Then he closed the door discreetly after himself. Captain Gringo laughed incredulously. He said, “Jesus, I thought Oscar Wilde was just making that bullshit up!”
Cynthia raised her face from his lap as she said, “I see you’re up, too. I want to try something naughty.”
“We haven’t been being naughty?”
“Not really. You see, Ivor doesn’t mind my fucking other men because he’s such a bloody pervert. It’s really dreadfully difficult to commit adultery when one’s married to such a silly twit.”
She pivoted on her knees to present her derrière to him as she added, “I want to really betray him this time. Put it in my arse.”
Captain Gringo swung his feet to the rug and stood up, frowning, as he said, “I thought you didn’t like it that way, Doll.”
“I don’t, as a rule. I haven’t let him do it for some time. But he does so annoy me with that casual attitude about my cunt. I want to give myself to you the way he’d love to have me, if I’d let him.”
Captain Gringo shook his head and said, “Boy, I’ve heard of dames hating their husbands, but you take the cake. Why don’t you leave him, Cynthia?”
“Don’t be an ass. We’re High Church. And, speaking of asses ...”
So he took a cheek in either hand to spread them as he moved the tip of his newly inspired erection into place against her rosebud rectum and pulled her hips back to meet his thrust. There was a momentary resistance and she hissed, “Careful, Dear!” and then suddenly he was in her a third of the way and now it was really fully aroused, for she was tight as hell back there and her anal muscles were rippling like hot wet fingers against his shaft as he slowly eased it all the way in and held still to let her get used to the idea.
She clutched a handful of bed covering in each fist as she hissed, “Oh, yes, it is rather nice with someone you like! Fuck me, Dick. Fuck me hard!”
So he did. Her weird marital problems were becoming clear as well as pathetic to him, now. Cynthia didn’t hate her husband for preferring Greek loving. She was sore at him for buggering everyone he could get at. She wouldn’t have minded his unusual desires if he hadn’t been so casual about who he vented them in. He didn’t know if it was true or not about her refusing these favors to old Ivor, but she really liked it this way.
He liked it, too. Normally he preferred old-fashion loving, since he liked women too much to do anything to them they didn’t like, and most he’d met already had the perfectly acceptable front entrance God had given them to enjoy. But even a healthy young guy like Captain Gringo needed a little extra inspiration to make love to three women in one night. So Cynthia’s “Revenge” was inspiring indeed as she moved her pale rump in a corkscrew motion on his questing shaft. She groaned, “Deeper, deeper!” as she put one hand between her thighs to masturbate in time with his thrusts and, since she was obviously coming, he joined her, ejaculating hard in her pulsating rectum and then throwing her over on her back to finish right as they were both still coming.
For a long sweet moment neither of them could say anything. It was hard enough just getting their breaths back. Then Cynthia sighed and said, “Thanks, I needed that. You’d better let me up, though. I have to get dressed and take my husband home.”
He rolled off, smiling crookedly, and as he wiped himself clean on the covers she was already getting dressed. She slipped in and out of her long skirt with
a speed and skill that betrayed a lot of practice. Now that he’d come in her at last, he wasn’t too worried about her feelings being hurt if she never saw him again. He was beginning to half suspect that she and her crazy husband hunted in pairs. He’d heard some of the more sophisticated Victorians went in for that. It made him feel shitty about his little adelita downstairs. Golondrina was a sweet little earth mother who didn’t know about sophistication. She only slept with one guy at a time and both she and this well-educated “lady” would have had a lot of trouble understanding one another. Jesus, what if Golondrina was awake? He’d told her he’d be right back.
Cynthia said she preferred to join her husband alone. So he didn’t argue when she opened the door and slipped out before he could reply. He noticed she didn’t leave that card she’d mentioned, either. Okay, he’d been seduced by a bit of a rotter. He was sure he’d get over it in time.
Grinning, he put his jacket back on over his gun rig and found his planter’s hat in the corner. He put it on with a last weary look at the bed they’d sure have to change the linens on, now, and let himself out. The lady wandering about in one stocking, corset, and a crying jag staggered up to him and complained, “I can’t get laid.”
He said, “Keep trying” and slid around her to find his way back to the stair well. As he got there a familiar figure came out of another doorway, buttoning his pants. Captain Gringo laughed and said, “Gaston! What are you doing up here?” and Gaston snorted and replied, “Getting laid, of course. Do not the British throw the swell party?”
“Yeah, but it seems to be breaking up and I want to talk to you. Let’s go down to your room.”
“Merde alors, I am not that kind of boy. Didn’t you get any of the free stuff they were handing out up here this evening, my child?”
“Sure. Do I look like a sissy? I got more than a drink and some rather wild sex, though. I found out something interesting about this job we signed up for.”
