Suddenly she was a siren no more, just a bobby-soxer. She broke into
a dash, catching me by surprise. I stood flatfooted, watching her
buttocks bob as she ran. After she had gone about ten paces she turned,
running still, only with her torso twisted to face me, and yelled,
"Come on, slowpoke, chase me!"
I remained still, absorbed in the endless miracle of a woman's
bouncing breasts, and then I started to run. She set a good pace, but
I felt as healthy as a young satyr, and despite her head start I
soon caught up with her. I passed her near the big apple tree where I
had kissed Harriet the afternoon before. I came to a dead stop just
in front of the mess hall. Sandra ran up behind me, and--probably
deliberately--collided with me as I stood there. She wrapped her arms
about me to steady herself, and the points of her young breasts stabbed
the flesh of my back. I shrugged myself away from her and we went in
for lunch.
The mess hall was crowded. There had been at least fifteen new arrivals
during the morning, and the long table was completely filled. It had
been moved to one side and a second table set up parallel to it. I
found a seat at this less occupied table. Sandra slipped in next to me
and introduced me to the people sitting there. They were a family group
who had just arrived, but who evidently were regular campers here. Ted
and Cindy Nichols, they were. Ted Nichols was a cleancut, healthy,
Ernie Bryan-like fellow of about thirty, with an open and guileless
expression. His wife Cindy was about twenty-five. She had an attractive
face and big, elongated breasts which showed signs of having been used
for nursing. They had two children, a little girl of just under three
and a boy of four and a half.
A new waitress had arrived, too, to handle some of the newcomers. She
was a thin, flat-chested girl of eighteen or so, heavily freckled and a
bit bucktoothy. Her name was Doris, and she seemed like a nice kid.
Dr. and Mrs. Richards arrived and took seats at our table. Everyone who
hadn't seen them before waved to them now, and they waved back, like
the King and Queen at a royal reception.
The meal was simple but good, like all those so far at the colony. My
appetite was enormous. I found myself putting away endless slices of
delicious brown bread, heavily buttered, and gulping mug after mug of
cold fresh milk. It was quite a switch from my usual lunchtime routine,
which involved beginning every meal with two martinis, and sometimes
not bothering to have anything else.
After lunch Meehan caught up with me. "I see the Richards kid is here,"
he said.
I nodded. "She already tried to give me the business. Dragged me down
to her cabin for a strip-tease, but she couldn't get me into the sack."