Never the Twain

by Judith B. Glad

  "Just a private joke. I'll tell you later, if you're a good boy." Kneeling, she tugged at one boot. It was firmly attached to his foot.

  "Darlin', I'll be the goodest boy you ever did see." His voice was hoarse with promise.

  Genny turned and straddled his leg, pulling his foot up so she could get a good grip on the recalcitrant boot. He lifted it still higher, until she was almost held astride his shin. Oh, God, the pressure on tender, sensitive tissues! Her panties grew moist as he lifted her off the floor, then let her down again, slowly. His grin told her he knew what he'd done to her.

  Despite the distraction, she was able to remove his boots. And his socks. Her nose twitched, so she did not reciprocate for his toe kisses, but she did run a fingernail along the arch of one foot before she dropped it. That brought his leg up again, but she was ready and hopped aside before he could high-center her.

  "Lie back," she directed, when she had wrung all the titillation she could out of boot removal.

  He sat stubbornly upright, a try-and-make-me grin on his face.

  She pushed. He hardly moved.

  "Please, Rock. I want to take off your jeans."

  "Why didn't you say so?" He flopped backwards, his arms spread wide on the bed.

  Genny straddled his thighs, bending low to kiss his belly just above the ornate buckle closing his pants. She felt, rather than saw, the muscles spasm across his abdomen. She saw the bulge at his crotch. Gently she touched it. "That looks uncomfortable."

  "Damn straight," he growled. "Don't you think you oughta do something about it?"

  "And what did you have in mind, sir?" Again she touched, rubbed. "Would a cold shower work? Or perhaps a bucket of ice water in the face?" She gestured.

  "Woman, just you wait!" He reached for her.

  "Ah! Ah! Don't touch." She leapt backwards before he could grab her. "I'll take pity on you, if you'll promise not to grab me."

  He nodded, flinging his arms out again.

  She stifled a grin of triumph at the sight of his twitching biceps.

  Back astride his thighs, she touched him again, still gently. "I really hate to make you suffer, but it's so warm in here." She reached for the tails of her pullover cotton top. Slowly, imagining she was one of the strippers she'd once seen in Boston, she pulled upward, rotating her upper body slightly as she did so. With seductive movements, she twirled her top in one hand before tossing it aside.

  By now, more than Rock's biceps were twitching. His hands were opening and closing against the bedspread.

  She arched her back to better reach the clasp of her bra. Had she known where today would end, she would have worn the lacy one with the front closure. It and those outrageously indecent panties. But from the hungry expression on Rock's sweating face, perhaps this bra was adequately effective.

  The bra followed the sweater. Leaning forward, Genny let her breasts barely brush his belly, above his jeans. The contact nearly made her lose what little control she had.

  It didn't matter, for she found herself flipped over and pinned to the bed, a hard thigh between hers and icy, sizzling blue eyes staring into hers.

  "My turn, now," he said. His hands framed her face and Genny surrendered to his greedy mouth.

  She had not expected Rock to be a gentle lover. His arrogance, his impatience, and the frequent glimpses she'd had of simmering anger had led Genny to expect excitement, but never sensitivity. Certainly he'd spent little time on tenderness in the Daniels' gazebo.

  He surprised her. He pleasured her. He intoxicated her, tantalized, and brought her to the edge of enchantment. His hands were gently demanding, touching every square inch of her body, stroking, tickling, rubbing. Again and again he returned to her mouth, to sip and to gulp. To her breasts, to suckle and nip. To her belly, to lave and to delve into her navel with a prehensile tongue.

  Genny knew she was moaning and didn't care. All she cared about was ending this exquisite torture. She tried to pull him to her, but he was strong and unyielding. She tried to hold his hands, to stop the ache they created wherever they touched. "Please." she heard herself say, "Please. Please. Please!" but she didn't know whether she was asking for release or respite.

  "Let it go, darlin'." Rock's voice penetrated her delirium. "Don't hold back." He kissed a line of fire between her breasts and across her midriff, stopping to titillate her navel once more. Lower, until she felt him probing at the waiting core of her, felt a tugging and a drawing, as if he were pulling her outside of herself.

  The heat started in her toes, a fiery, tingling heat that burned its way past ankles and knees, swept up her thighs, gathered within her belly, before it broke free and overwhelmed her, carrying her along on a swell of sensation into an oblivion of satiation. She drifted, conscious only of being held in warm arms, of drifting in a haven somewhere beyond hurt and tears and disappointment.

  Slowly she returned to the world, gradually becoming conscious of hands again stroking her body. She opened her eyes.

  He was there, his face only inches from hers. His eyes still glittered, but now with a quiet urgency that she knew only she could alleviate. She pulled his head down, kissing him lightly, tasting herself on his mouth. Her hands found his buttocks and she pulled him against her, feeling the unrelieved hardness of him.

  She caught his penis between her thighs and squeezed, With small jerks of her hips, she massaged him.

  His breath caught, then burst from his mouth is a harsh gasp. "Careful, there."

  "Careful? Were you careful with me?" She ground her hips against him. "I was doing just fine when you decided that you had to take things over." She grinned, what she hoped was a fiendish grin.

  "You complainin'?" Again he turned her, until she lay sprawled across the top of him. "Okay, then do it your way." But she noticed that he didn't relinquish his hold on her waist, nor did he push her away from him.

  Genny lifted herself on arms still trembling slightly from the force of her recent passion. "Just how dangerous are you, cowboy?" She straddled him, just above his knees. "If I were to scoot a little closer, would you explode?" She suited action to words, moving until she rode his thighs, just below his jutting penis.

  His teeth were clenched as he said, "I won't explode until I'm inside you, babe, but much more of that and you'll find yourself ridin' a hungry bronc." His hands were like steel pincers at her waist.

  "Poor baby," she cooed, drawing circles on his rigid abdomen with her fingernails. "I hate to see you suffer like this." She scooted a little higher, pressing him down, feeling the size and strength of him against her. Despite her recent satiation, Genny felt another climax building within her, just waiting until she contained him.

  "Genny," he gritted, "don't push your luck."

  "Not any more," she agreed. Rising on her knees, she fitted herself to him, taking him inside her a scant half-inch at a time. Still wet from before, she felt him slide easily, despite his size. Gradually she lowered herself, glorying in the sense of fullness he gave her.

  His hands at her waist forced her to go slowly, when she wanted to take him all at once. But he held her up, lifted her slightly twice. She watched his face. His eyes were vacant, seeing beyond her, into his own rapture.

  Finally she was seated upon him. She tightened around him, relaxed, tightened again.

  He groaned, lifted her slightly. "Careful," he gasped.

  A wild recklessness took Genny. Again she squeezed him, quickly relaxed. Once. Twice. But before she could do it a third time, he took over. She could have been weightless, for all the difference it made to him as he lifted her and pulled her down, burying himself in her. Again and again he pulled her hips tight against his, filling her, giving her all of himself.

  This time it was no tidal wave that carried Genny on its crest, but an eruption, as Rock arched his back and found release. She felt him come, felt the hot spurt of his seed against the mouth of her womb.

  She fell against him, sprawling across his heaving chest. His arms slippe
d loosely around her as they both took long, shuddering breaths.

  "Sweet Genny," he whispered. His hands were gentle, light upon her back, as he stroked her. "Sexy, sensational, and sweet."

  She felt like purring. "I had great material to work with." She kissed his shoulder, the only part of him she could reach without moving.

  Gradually lethargy overtook her, and she fell into light sleep, never losing her awareness of Rock.

  It grew chilly along about dark. Rock pulled the corduroy bedspread around them as they lay across the foot of his king-sized bed. Genny slept in his arms, half waking and clutching at him whenever he moved. He was content to remain where he was for the time being, although hunger was fast making itself known. A cup of coffee at dawn and another, plus a donut, in Vale, didn't constitute an adequate diet.

  "Wake up, darlin'," he murmured as she moved in her sleep. "Supper time." He thought of the casserole she had set out in the kitchen and his mouth watered.

  "Hmmm?"

  "Food, Genny."

  "Mmmmm." She turned in his arms, nuzzling against his chin like a sleepy child.

  He kissed her. He wanted to keep kissing her forever.

  "Food sounds good," she said, her voice soft and sleep-blurred.

  He flung back the spread. "I'll cook, while you shower." Rolling out, he stood and stretched. God, but he felt good! Better than he had in ages.

  She sat up and looked around. "Bathroom?" she asked, yawning.

  He stepped into his Levi's and pointed with his chin. "There's a robe hanging on the bathroom door, if you want it." Slipping his feet into elkhide moccasins, he grabbed the shirt hanging from the bedside lamp and left. If he stood here and watched her prance around in her altogether, it would be hours again before he had his supper.

  The stew was defrosted, but hadn't warmed to room temperature. Rock set the microwave timer and turned to the refrigerator. Some sliced tomatoes sounded good.

  By the time Genny arrived in the kitchen, he had everything ready. "As soon as the stew's hot, we can eat." He had to grin at the expression on her face as she took in the breakfast bar, set with placemats and the everyday dishes. He could almost read her mind. Just because he was a cowboy, she figured he wasn't any good around the kitchen. Tell that to Pancho. He'd made sure Rock knew how to cook and keep house, not to mention do his own washing, before he went off to the university.

  She looked sexy as hell in his robe. It was too big for her, so she'd wrapped it almost twice around herself. Midthigh length on him, it reached to her knees, and he found himself admiring what he could see of her legs. He hadn't been paying much attention to legs, earlier. Hers were spectacular. Slim, well-formed, showing good muscular definition when she walked. She was in pretty good shape.

  "Anything I can do?" She looked curiously around the kitchen. It was much bigger than your ordinary kitchen, with a restaurant-sized range and a walk-in refrigerator. Pancho fed the unmarried ranch hands from here.

  "You can pour us something to drink. I'll have milk."

  "Milk?" He thought he heard her giggle, but the timer on the microwave sounded just then, so he wasn't sure.

  "Yeah." He set the casserole on the counter and waited for her to pour milk into the two glasses he'd set out. "I never thought to ask. Did you want coffee? Or tea? I can make some pretty quick, in the microwave."

  "No, milk's fine." She looked at him, smiling. "Everything looks so good."

  It sure did, and Rock did it justice. So did Genny. He liked to see a woman eat. Selma had always been dieting, and he'd gotten real tired of the rabbit food she served them all. He and Pa had used to sneak out to the kitchen and raid the refrigerator for leftovers from the hands' supper.

  When they were finished eating, she gathered up the dishes and carried them to the dishwasher. "No need for you to do that," he protested. "You're company."

  "You cooked, I'll clean," she said. "What do you want me to do with the leftovers?" She tipped the casserole and Rock saw that there was perhaps a half a cup of stew left.

  "I'll take care of it." He took the bowl, scraped its contents into a storage container. While she was loading the dishwasher, he put condiments away, wiped the counters down, and swept the floor.

  "You know your way around a kitchen," Genny said, watching him finish the floor.

  "Yeah. Does that surprise you?"

  "Yes, it does. I wouldn't have expected a man like you," her hands made an indeterminate gesture, "to be willing to do housework."

  "It's not my favorite sport," he admitted. Looking at her across the kitchen, her hair still damp, her bare toes curled against the tile, he felt a resurgence of desire. He waggled his eyebrows. "Want me to show you what is?"

  "I really should get home." But he could tell she wasn't real set on it.

  "Later." Three long strides took him to her. Again he swept her into his arms.

  She struggled. "But Sophie will be worried." She didn't struggle very hard.

  "Call her. Tell her you'll be home later." Much later, he thought. Tomorrow, even.

  Genny relaxed in his arms. Hours later, she made the call. No one answered, but Sophie was probably asleep.

  * * * *

  "I still say I should have come home last night," Genny said, unlocking her back door. As soon as it was open, Marmalade was all over her, complaining vociferously.

  "What's the matter, baby? Were you lonely?" Genny stepped aside for Rock to follow her indoors. Automatically she checked the cat's dishes. Both were all but empty. Sophie must have forgotten to feed him.

  Marmalade told Genny in no uncertain terms just how lonely and neglected he'd been. Quickly Genny replenished water and dry food, then opened a rare can of gourmet cat food. Marmalade's complaints changed to little growls as he attacked the treat.

  "Coffee?" she asked Rock. When they'd awakened this morning, they'd reached for each other. By the time passion yielded to satiation, it was nearly ten. Genny had refused anything but instant coffee, something she rarely indulged in. All she could think of was how worried Sophie must be, not knowing where she was or who she was with.

  She reminded herself again that Sophie would have suspected she was with Rock, and would have guessed where they were. The trouble was, Genny wasn't entirely comfortable with her aunt knowing. There must still be a trace of the prude inside her, in spite of her wanton behavior yesterday and several times during the night. Not to mention this wonderful, wonderful morning.

  She sighed in remembrance.

  "What's wrong?" Rock said, apparently misinterpreting her sigh.

  "Nothing," she assured him. "On the contrary, Rock, everything's right." She leaned against him, reaching up to pull his head down for a kiss. Her lips were tender, as was almost all of her body, but she needed his mouth.

  I never knew I was insatiable. Her arms, of their own accord, wrapped tightly around his neck, holding him tightly. How good he felt! How good he made her feel!

  She leaned into his kiss, giving it all her attention. When she finally came up for air, it was because Marmalade was again complaining of neglect. Now he had eaten, he wanted attention.

  "Sophie must have come in late," Genny said as she picked the cat up. "I've never known her to sleep in like this." A frisson of worry touched her. Sophie was a lark. No matter how late she stayed up at night, she was usually out for her morning walk by seven, at the latest.

  "Maybe she's out somewhere," Rock said. "Look in her room."

  Genny did, and found the bed mussed, Sophie's closet open, her dressing table in disarray. "Rock! Rock, someone's been in here!"

  She dashed to her own bedroom, but it was as she'd left it yesterday. Why, then, was Sophie's room such a mess? Sophie was as tidy as a cat.

  Rock was still in Sophie's room. "Genny, here's a note," he called.

  She dashed back, snatched the folded paper from his hand.

  "Genny, dear, I'm going to be away for a few days. Don't worry about me. I know exactly what I'm doing."


  It was signed with Sophie's characteristic, flowing "SE."

  "Where is she? What is she doing?" Genny was near panic, wondering what had caused her usually calm and dignified aunt to leave with no more explanation than this. How could she have left her room in such disorder? "Rock, something's very wrong. This just isn't like Sophie. Not at all."

  "Let me see the note." He took it from her shaking hands. "Is this her writing?"

  "Yes."

  "Does it look like she was upset when she wrote it? Like she might have been forced to write it?"

  "No." Genny looked again. "No, it looks perfectly normal to me. But Sophie would never go off like this, Rock. I just know she wouldn't." Her mind was spinning all sorts of fantasy scenarios, in which Sophie was kidnapped and held for ransom. "Sophie's a wealthy woman, Rock. You don't suppose...?"

  He pulled her to him, held her comfortingly. "No, I don't suppose she's in any danger. I think she just decided to go away for a few days, with someone she met, and didn't know how to get in touch with you." His voice was gentle, reassuring.

  "But--"

  He held a finger against her lips. "But nothing, darlin'. Don't you worry about Miss Enderby. She's one smart lady, and if she's gone somewhere, it's because she wants to. She'll be back when she's good and ready."

  "How can you know that?" No matter how reassuring Rock was, she wanted to know where Sophie was. Disappearing like this just wasn't something her aunt would do.

  She tore free of Rock's embrace and ran back to Sophie's room. A quick sort of the closet contents showed that several of Sophie's dresses were missing, as were her white linen suit and three pairs of heels. Genny checked the dresser next. Only a few nearly empty cosmetic containers remained, and her jewelry case was gone.

  Her jewelry case! Genny knew Sophie never traveled without a selection of her jewelry, and she had considerable. Sophie liked precious stones, and was not above treating herself to new pieces every so often. The latest addition, which she had proudly showed Genny, was a set of opal earrings, beautiful stones surrounded with diamonds. Even though most of her collection was probably in her safe deposit box back in Boston, Sophie had probably brought several thousand dollars worth of baubles to Oregon with her.