"Who did you think?"
"You mustn't do that. There are rules about intimate caresses in
public."
"Let's caress in private, then."
She grinned at me. Taking me by the hand, she led me away from the
Social Hall. We walked hand-in-hand past the mess hall and I found
myself on a road that was new to me.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"Staff quarters." She pointed ahead, to three or four cabins nestling
at the edge of the woods behind the mess hall. "That's pretty private.
Lorraine and I share a cabin. But she usually spends the night with
Nick at his place. That's where the cooks sleep, over there."
My heart was pounding. Back in the real world, when you want to go to
bed with a girl you have to wine her and dine her for a while, usually.
You have to take her to a couple of shows, and you have to feed her the
line about how the bomb may drop any week and why not grab some fun
while you can? Then, and only then, she lets you score. But that was
the real world. Here in the fantasy dreamland of the Sunland Health
Colony, the pretenses and conventions of society didn't seem to matter
so much. If you met a girl and she liked you, she took you off to her
cabin or she came to yours. And since neither of you had any clothing
on anyway, it was a perfectly expectable thing for matters to go on to
what they call completion.
We entered her cabin. It was built exactly like the one Meehan and I
shared. Harriet took me into her room and locked the door. She was
wearing a pair of shorts, and she took them off. She was naked now. I
wriggled out of my shirt.
I saw the look in her eyes again, the smouldering, sensuous look she
had given me on the tennis court. She flattened herself against me,
thrusting her knee between my thighs, while my hands squeezed the flesh
of her buttocks. I felt her small but finely shaped breasts going stiff
and hard, pressing against my chest.
Her tongue darted into my mouth and her knee brought me to a flaming
pitch of excitement and my hands went up from her buttocks and forced
themselves between our bodies, reaching upward until I was cupping her
breasts. They weren't big swinging breasts like Bonnie's, and they
weren't monumental statuesque ones like Joanie's. They were--well, they
filled my hands nicely, and I squeezed the stiff little berries at the
tips, and I heard Harriet gasp with delight and I told myself that the
Sunland Health Colony was the nearest thing to utopia on earth that had
yet been invented.
Then Harriet pulled herself away from me and while I stood blinking and
recovering from the intensity of the kiss she went to her dresser and
opened a drawer. When she turned around again she was holding--this is
God's own truth--a ping-pong paddle!
It was one just like the ones they had in the back of the Social Hall,
covered with a flat oval of red rubber raised up in little puckers. She
thrust the paddle into my hand and I stood there staring at it stupidly
while she whispered, "Hit me, Al! Hit me!"
I didn't get it at first. Call me stupid or something. But Harriet
pushed me down on the bed and dove across my knees, face down, with her
pretty little butt facing upward so I could still make out the imprint
my tennis racquet had left this afternoon.
And all of a sudden I understood Harriet a whole lot better.
I knew now why she had given me that look of pure three hundred proof
s-e-x after I had whammed her with my racquet.
She was a girl who _liked_ to be hurt.
That was the way she got her kicks.
All at once my image of her as a nice cleancut college girl who worked
at a nudist colony because she enjoyed the outdoor life went up in
smoke. I felt faintly queasy. I'm not really as puritanical as this
account is probably painting me, but still and all. I've always had
a preference for girls who went for the straight stuff instead of
sidelines and specialties.
I didn't have any choice, though. There I was with the ping-pong paddle
in my hand and a naked girl spread out across my lap with her backside
waiting to be paddled, and myself in a state of advanced excitement
anyway. So--feeling somewhat guilty about the whole thing--I lifted the
paddle and brought it down smartly across Harriet's tender rump.
She let out a squeal of delight. I saw the skin almost tingle. I
paddled her again, making a nice loud sound, and she kicked her legs
and began to pant hysterically, and I found myself getting into the
spirit of the thing myself. I brought the paddle down four or five more
times across her bare bottom, and every time the paddle landed she let
out another cry of mixed pleasure and pain. _Whack! Whack! Whack!_ And
Harriet getting hotter with each descent of the paddle across her bare
bottom.
She sat up suddenly, and her eyes were wild. She looked like she was
a madwoman. "Hit me," she moaned. "Slap me, punch me, bite me!" She
wriggled up until she was sitting on my lap, and in one sudden thrust
of her loins she imprisoned me with her body, and she pulled my head
to her bosom and shoved one of her breasts into my mouth and murmured,
"Bite me, bite me...."
I was carried away by it all. I took care not to break the skin, but
I gave her what she wanted. She moaned and bucked and whimpered, and
sweat bathed our bodies, and it went on and on, seemingly for hours.
She was really the wildest.
And then she was digging her nails into my back and moving with frantic
energy, and I felt the trip-hammer pounding in my loins and I let my
breath out in a long hoarse sigh and it was all over. I opened my eyes.
Harriet still sat astride me, but she looked completely exhausted.
She tumbled off, landing in a little heap on the floor. I picked her
up. She was limp, drained, through. I put her on the bed. She gave a
kittenish smile of contentment.