Vampire$ - By John Steakley Page 0,78

was Dale Boijock. He had been the Catch of All Catches in high school but he was so boring and how could she ever have slept with him?

Curiosity, of course. She did not live in Aunt Vicky's era and almost all of her friends had "done it," many more than once, and here she was with the most eligible boyfriend around and she was just dying to know and it had been her suggestion.

He had been shocked. But he had come around.

At the motel he really was sweet and tender, treating her like a porcelain doll, and she had to face it, some parts of it were pretty interesting.

But somehow Dale had managed to make even those dull. And she knew, as he drove home, that she simply could not bear to be with him ever, ever again but she couldn't think of a graceful way to...

And then she had turned in the car seat and told him he was the best lover she had ever had.

He had laughed at that at first, of course. Then he had looked at her and saw she was serious and that tanned blond face had frowned and he had pulled the car over and the questioning had begun.

Looking back, she decided she had handled it just about perfectly.

Did he know him?

Who?

The other guy.

Well, she knew Dale knew some of them.

Some of them? There was more than one?

Well, yes.

Who?

Dale, I don't really think I could - How many, then?

How many? What difference could that possibly - She had taken a positively wicked joy in bashing his pride. After she had strung it out a good half hour, she allowed him to force her to tell him the "truth," that there had been somewhere between fifteen and an even dozen. She couldn't remember exactly.

Then he had leaned across her and opened the passenger door and ordered her to get out.

Trying desperately to keep a straight face, she had climbed meekly out of his car, closed the door behind her, and stood there, head down, her hands together in front of her, until the car screeched off.

On the way back home she had giggled quite a lot.

It really was a perfect solution. His pride wouldn't let him tell others about her and even if he did no one would believe it of Princess Davette anyway. And best of all, she would never be bothered by Dale Boijock again. And she hadn't been, for four long-years.

Until tonight. And this was looking grim. After four years of the Ivy League's worldly ways, she knew his attitudes had changed. She could tell by that look on his face. It could only mean one thing, his insistence at getting her alone to talk: He was going to, God help him, forgive her.

And she really didn't think she could handle that with a straight face.

She just had to get away beforehand.

"Dale? Would you excuse me just a minute?" she asked sweetly, then fled.

That's how she ended up hiding out on the terrace, in a metal chair behind an enormous plant.

And that's where she was when she heard the Voice.

It wasn't a deep voice. It wasn't rich and melodious. In fact, it was rather dry and thin. But it was so... smooth. Smooth and clear and it really carried, cutting through the other voices with it.

She had been aware, in the few minutes she'd spent in her little hideout - on the lookout for Dale - of a conversation going on on the terrace a few feet away. But she hadn't really been paying attention. Now, with that voice, she began to.

Sex. They were talking about sex. About the difference between men and women. About what each needed. What women needed. What women craved. What they had to have. Release. Abandon. Wantonness. Penetration.

Looking around at the faces in the motel room... Looking at Felix's face now so close to her, his eyes gentle but so acute...

She just didn't know.

Should she tell them? Should she tell them all - tell Felix - what exactly had been said? What words? What sweet, forbidden, pornographic...

She didn't know.

She didn't know if she could describe what it had been like, sitting there on the terrace and bearing those awful dirty words cutting through the night toward her. Surrounding her. Caressing her. Prodding her. The words he used were so filthy and his descriptions so graphic. No one else was talking but him, now, the entire terrace alive with electricity because it was arousing. She couldn't believe it.

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