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It took a moment for Harold to recover from his surprise. He swallowed
drylysand said, “So, I guess we meet again.”

She walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge, seemingly
unconcerned over her partial nudity. She made no attempt to cover herself
at all. “I remember you from the crowd at the vollyball game. When I lost
my top I was embarassed as hell, but I was going to be damned if I’d let
anyone see that. I saw every male in the crowd was drooling, but when I
looked around and saw you… there was something else in your eyes. You
looked so incredibly sad.”

“I didn’t know it showed.” Harold mumbled. “I was… well… thinking
just about the same thing as everybody else.” He turned red and averted his
eyes in shame.

“Oh, I know that.” she replied matter-of-factly “I’ve been getting
looks like that since I was twelve years old. I’m used to getting stared at
and hit on a lot, so I just learned to deal with it without getting mad.
Actually, it does a lot for my ego. I don’t know what it was, though, but
you really stood out in that crowd, at least to me. I’ve always been good
at picking up feelings.”

“And you felt sorry for me.” Harold said baldly. He should have known
he had misinterpreted that look. “When our eyes met that time, I almost
thought, well…”

She smiled and patted a place on the bed next to her. “Why not come
over here and sit down? You can’t be too comfortable all curled up in a
ball in the corner.”

Harold sighed and got up painfully. She was right. It wasn’t too
comfortable. He sat on the bed about two feet away from her. It took
considerable effort to keep his eyes off her chest. He was surprised to
find his mouth had gone dry and his heart was pounding. “Um, can I ask a
question?”

“Sure” She answered.

“If you were so, um, embarassed when you lost your top earlier, why
aren’t you wearing it now?”

“Because it’s uncomfortable. The damn string’s been digging into my
neck all day and it’s sore as hell.” she lifted her hair up and showed him
a red weal as the base of her neck. “I should have worn a nice, sensable
tank top. And I was embarassed because I got caught by surprise. Otherwise
I wouldn’t have cared. I’m not ashamed of my body at all. Does this bother
you?”

“No.” Harold said quickly. Then he reconsidered. “Well, a little.”

“See?” she smiled, “I told you you might like it better with the light
off.”

“Oh, not at all.” Harold said hurredly, “They’re definitely worth
looking at.” then he winced, realizing what he said. “I mean, YOU’RE
definitely worth-”

But she was laughing, a very pretty sound indeed. She waved him off,
“I know what you meant. I’m flattered, really. You know, red’s your color.”
she said, making Harold blush even harder. “But that’s nasty of me.”

The talk died off and the silence stretched between them like putty as
they both sat alone with their thoughts. Finally she said, almost shyly,
“You know, I didn’t entirely feel sorry for you. You’re not that bad
looking.” Harold looked at her wonderingly. She moved over until she was
right next to him. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re no Tom Selleck or anything,
but I decided a long time ago that most of the really good looking guys are
too hung up on themselves to give a woman the attention she wants. You seem
really nice.”

Her shoulder and hip pressed against his warmly. Her weight on the bed
pulling him towards her, her very presence, that oh so luscious body, all
burned in his mind like a red-hot firebrand. Almost without thinking, he
put an arm around her shoulders. “And I think you’re very beautiful. What
else can I say?” his other hand came up and froze, uncertainly. Her eyes
locked on his and without a word she reached up placed his hand on her bare
breast.

“Why say anything?” and she silenced any possible reply with an open
mouthed kiss.

He massaged her breast tenderly, feeling it’s weight, it’s smoothness,
running his thumb gently over the rapidly hardening nipple. Her tongue
darted playfully into his mouth, only to retreat. Then it came out again
more slowly and met with his, intertwining in powerful intimacy that made
his head spin. Then she withdrew slowly.

Ending the kiss, he ran his open mouth gently down along the line of
her jaw, to her ear, which he explored, making her giggle. He moved to her
neck, taking a moment to kiss away the pain of the weal there, before
moving farther down.

Nor was she idle while he did this. Her hands ran along his sides, up
under his shirt, exploring. Then she reached down and undid his pants,
reaching inside to caress his blossoming erection with a light, tingling
touch.

He had moved down to her chest now, and he roamed freely with his
tongue, using a feathery touch that made her shiver. Around and around the
curving softness of her breast, finally centering on the fully erect
nipple, which he plunged into his mouth, sucking gently. Again and again he
did this, finally moving over to the other side. His hands explored her
back, her sides, her thighs, moving with smooth surety.

With a sigh she reclined back onto the bed, grasping the zipper on her
cut-offs and pulling it down slowly. The fabric parted gladly, after
straing all day to hold together, and golden feathery pubic hair poked
through the gap, glimmering faintly in the light from the dresser lamp. She
grasped the sides of the shorts and pulled them down over her long legs,
finally kicking them off onto the floor. Harold was not surprised at all to
see she wore no underwear. With a great sigh she stretched out on the bed,
glorious in her nakedess. Harold could only stare until she looked back at
him and said, “Well…?”

He hesitated for the slightest of instances. Something deep inside his
mind gibbered. This is just like before, it said. Get out of here now. Get
out before you humiliate yourself again! Now, fool!

And he almost listened. Almost, until something much older and
stronger took control of his thoughts and squashed the voice completely.
All doubt dissappeared as he stripped off all his clothes, put the light
out, and climbed onto the bed.

“Why did you turn off the light?” she asked in a breathy voice.
“Why not? Habit, I guess.” he replied, turning his attentions back to
her. Suddenly he stopped, “I just realized, I don’t know your name.”

“I was wondering when you would get around to that.” she said. “I’m
Julie.”

“Pleased to meet you, Julie. I’m Harol… Harry.” On a moment of
whimsey, he added, “Would you have dinner with me tomorrow night?”

“Sure.” She replied, “But right now let’s fuck.” And they both broke
up laughing.

But the laughter quickly faded as Harry returned to the matter at
hand. With his mouth and hands he continued to explore the soft curves of
her body, her hips, her navel, slowly, inexhorably moving towards one
definite spot. His fingers playfully toyed with her pubic hair as he moved
his tongue slowly up along her inner thigh. Her breathing had speeded up
noticably as she bent her knees and spread her legs. Harry settled himself
down with his face between her thighs. His fingers pulled aside the labia,
exposing the delicate folds of flesh within. Gently he began to probe
inside with his tongue.

Her breathing became even more rapid and her hips began to move up and
down in sensuous rhythem. His tongue explored deeper until he found what he
was looking for, the fleshy knob of the clitoris. His nose pressed hard
…End of the part1. To be continued..

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The week wore on and Willyville got even hotter, if such a thing was
possible. It also got weirder, and many had considered that impossible,
too.

During the daytime the streets were like that of a ghost town, as
everybody remained inside with shades closed to beat the heat.
Air-conditioners became the number one most stolen item in the city,
beating out televisions by a wide margin. It made sense of a sort, after
all, you don’t even need to get inside the house to steal one. Many a
homeowner returned from work in the evening to find a large hole in the
wall where the family’s most cherished appliance once rested and
subsequently broke down in tears. However, the chief of police had a sudden
brainstorm that guaranteed a quick end to this new and despicable crime
wave. He promptly instructed all four hospitals in the Willyville area to
inform the police of any emergency room cases involving hernias or slipped
discs. When the anxious media questoned the chief of police on this new
tactic, he simply replied that the results so far were “interesting”.

In other news, weather forcaster Bob Katt had been suspended for
appearing on his show wearing boxer shorts, a tie, and nothing else. It
seems the building’s air-conditioning system had been stolen the previous
night (an impressive feat in itself, considering that the compressor alone
weighed half a ton) and Bob had refused to work in a suit in the stifling
heat. So he had walked into the studio, dressed only in his skivvies, and
up in front of the camera before any of the stunned studio crew could even
think of stopping him. Of course, it would have been very bad form to yank
him off the camera, so they simply let him do his broadcast. Once he was
finished he was greeted by a purple faced station manager. Despite the
indian pressure groups, Bob was still very popular in Willyville, so he was
not fired on the spot.

Instead, the station manager sent him on a long overdue vacation…

Saturday dawned bright, clear, and warm (surprise, surprise!). Harold
was up with the sun, mostly because he hadn’t slept at all the previous
night. His stomach was a tight little knot and his heart would not stop
pounding. He was having second thoughts about the party. Harold Sykes had
never been a party animal, and recent… events… had convinced him that
he would be very wise to stay away from certain segments of the human race
(read: female) for a long time to come. In fact, now that he thought about
it, he was rather frightened of them. After all, if he couldn’t keep Cindi
happy, would he be able to keep any woman happy? And there would be lots of
girls there, probably all laughing at him. Why go?

Then he thought about his depression of the last couple weeks. Tom had
a point: right or wrong, he had to do something.

Tom came by at 2:30 and picked Harold up. As they drove over to
Squirrel Heights, Tom did most of the talking. Harold had lapsed into a
moody silence, soaking up Tom’s words and saying almost something in
return. If Tom noticed, he didn’t show it as he kept up a steady monologue
all the way to the house.

The Squirrel Heights Boarding house was a dumpy three story affair
sitting in front of about two acres of worn out farmland. The place was run
by an aging ex-stockbroker named Michael Wilburn, who believed in free
expression of everything and threw wild parties as often as the house’s
budget would allow. Some of the parties were solely for the house’s
inhabitants, but most of them were for whoever wanted to come. Booze and
most kinds of drugs generally circulated freely, and Harold had heard
rumors even more outrageous than that. All in all, it was pretty
intimidating to an introvert like Harold, and as he stepped out of Tom’s
car and looked at the peeling gray mass of the boarding house looming over
him, and the virtual sea of cars surrounding it, he knew he had made a
mistake. He as much as said so to Tom, who ignored him completely.

The affair was already in progress, as he discovered when Tom led him
around the back of the house. There must have been almost a hundred people
there, engaged in all manner of outdoor activities. People everywhere,
talking, yelling, running, horsing around, just generally having a good
time. A table had been set up by the back door, and there was somebody
serving booze and food to an endlessly regenerating queue.

Harold looked around and noticed that Tom had abandoned him and was
nowhere in sight. For an instant he almost panicked and yelled for Tom,
then his rational mind took over. What’s your problem? it said. You’re an
adult, you don’t need a keeper.

So Harold decided to walk around and see what he could see.

In one corner a net had been set up for a vollyball game. There was a
team on each side, if a pushing, laughing, staggering group of people could
be called a team. Harold stood off to one side with a small group of
spectators and watched. All of a sudden his attention had been captured by
one particular member of one team.

She wasn’t tall, maybe five seven or so, buxom, and maybe a few pounds
overweight. Which, as far as Harold was concerned, made her all the more
nicely rounded. Her hair was blonde and fell down past her shoulders. Her
face was pretty, but not spectacularly so. What had really caught Harold’s
attention was what she was wearing, or, more to the point, not wearing. She
was dressed in frayed cutoff jeans that were so tight they had split along
the sides halfway up her hips, and a string bikini top that struggled
valiantly to hold up under the weight of enormous breasts. Harold glanced
around and saw that she had the attention of pretty much every man in the
crowd.

His heart fluttered as he watched her move, and he couldn’t help but
wonder what it would be like to take her to bed. He imagined her long hair
spread out over the pillow, glimmering faintly in the moonlight, those
magnificent breasts moving in slow liquid motion as she arched her back in
sheer pleasure, her frenzied gasps as she reached a sudden and powerful
orgasm…

Harold shook his head to clear it. Get real, he told himself. Someone
like that certainly already has a boyfriend, and even if she didn’t, why
should she be interested in somebody like him? He turned around and began
to make his way back towards the house.

Sudden catcalls and whistles made him turn around again. She was
sitting on the grass, apparently having just fallen. When she landed, the
overburdened top string of her bikini had given way, exposing her for all
the world to see.

He could not help but stare. Her nipples stood out hard, the aurioles
colored light rose pink. He ached to take them in his mouth, to feel their
soft but firm weight in his hands. Then he looked up and saw she was
staring directly at him.

He locked eyes with her and suddenly his face turned beet red. Why, he
didn’t know, because surely every other male here was staring and thinking
the same thoughts. She made no move to cover herself, she just sat there,
challenging him with her gaze.

Finally, Harold turned and pushed his way through the crowd. His heart
was pounding in his ears and his balls, denied their release, ached
miserably. He still had a raging hard-on and kept his hands in his pockets
to conceal it. He felt sick, and ashamed. And he wanted to leave this
instant.

But that stare kept coming back to him. On reflection, he felt there
was more than just a challenge in her eyes. What, he didn’t know, but he
somehow knew it. It was almost as if a spark had passed between them.
Undoubtedly it was just his overworked imagination, but…

He felt as if she wanted him, too.

Day gave way to night, as days usually do, and slowly Willyville began
to cool off. People moved out of their stifling houses (except for those
who hadn’t had their air-conditioning stolen yet) and into their back
yards. They brought TV trays, TV’s, barbecues, bedrolls, and just generally
prepared to enjoy the night in relative coolness.

All over Willyville the night was alive with the sound of voices,
televisions, stereos, lustful moans and the other noises of humans enjoying
themselves outdoors. With one exception. In Squirrel Heights, all was
quiet. The place seemed deserted, in fact. Virtually all human life in the
area had gravitated to one spot. At the Squirrel Heights boarding house,
when night fell, the real party began…

Harold Sykes hadn’t left the party like he planned, although he came
awful damn close to doing so when he spotted Cindi in the crowd. But, in
the end, the thought of going back to his lonely, empty, stuffy house was
just too much. So instead he wandered around the yard, just watching the
extraordinary panorama of human activity taking place before him.

Eventually he found a peaceful spot on the back porch where he just
sat and watched the sun set. Tom came by and asked him how he was doing.

“Better.” sighed Harold, “I really feel better.”

Tom gave him a wink. “You may be feeling better than that before the
night’s over, old buddy.” and sauntered off before Harold could say
anything.

Now what was that supposed to mean?

As it got dark, the party outside thinned out. A few left, spinning
their wheels in the gravel lot out front, but most just went inside the
house. Probably gonna booze it up good, Harold thought, Although it looked
to him like they had been boozing more than adequetely already. Harold
didn’t feel like drinking very much, especially after his binge the other
day. Drugs didn’t hold much of an attraction for him, either. Just sitting
there, alone with his thoughts, seemed to do quite a bit for him.

Eventually he awoke from his musings and was startled to find he was
alone. With a sigh he got up and went in through the back door.

The back hallway was unlit. There was the low murmur of voices and
music coming from somewhere ahead. He could make out dim light from around
a corner in the distance. Cautiously he made his way down the hallway,
hoping nothing solid was in the way of his shins.

Eventually he made his way to the light, and when he turned the corner
he recieved the shock of his life.

The front room was spacious and poorly lit. But the light was more
than adequete for Harold to see what was going on. There was about twenty
to thirty people sprawled about the room, all naked, contorted in every
kind of sexual position imaginable. And a couple that weren’t imaginable.

Harold could only stare dumbly. The floor was almost lost amongst the
moving, writhing bodies. There were six people on the couch, in some
bizarre group contortion that made them look like something from another
planet. One man sat moaning softly in an easy chair with a hard-on that
Harold would have sworn was twelve inches long, at least. He watched in
total amazement as all twelve inches dissappeared into the mouth of the
co-ed sitting on the floor between the man’s feet.

The blonde he had seen earlier was conspicuously absent.

He heard creaking above him, and he looked up. In the rafters, some
twelve feet above, a rope and pully setup had been arranged with a large
wicker basket. Three people were in the basket, which swung back and forth
alarmingly. Harold quickly moved several feet over, out from under the
setup.

His head was spinning. His experience with sex had always been
limited, and now he was confronted with a full-fledged orgy. It was too
much. He didn’t want any part of this. All he wanted was out.
Watching his step carefully, he made his way for the nearest door. He
was almost there when he saw the one thing he *knew* he didn’t want to
see.

There was a clear spot at the far end of the room. Only two people
were there, a man flat on his back with a woman sitting astride his hips,
moving up and down in sensuous rhythem. He didn’t know who the guy was but
he knew the girl. Cindi. Pain that had been mercifully submerged now rose
to stab arrowlike into his guts. Cindi turned her head at that instant and
their eyes met. Instant recognition and something spiteful and unpleasant
glittered in her eyes for a brief second, and then she turned her attention
back to what she was doing. Her movements became more frantic, and her
moans much louder, exaggerating as much as possible.

Her parting words rang in his mind: “I want a man, dammit!” Well,
fine. All Harold wanted was out. He averted his eyes and ran blindly
towards the closest exit. He stumbled over one couple on the way (startling
them into a premature orgasm) and mumbled apologies as he kept going.

Then he was in a hallway, but not the one he had come from. Doors
lined the hall on both sides. He grabbed one and pulled it open, only to be
rewarded with several outraged yells. Redfaced and near tears from
embarassment, he pulled the door shut and looked around desperately. And
empty room, anything, just so he could get out of sight and get his
thoughts together. If he didn’t do it quick, he feared he might lost his
mind. He had to get away, somehow!

There, at the end of the hall. An open door, the room dark within. He
paused at the doorway for a second, but could detect no movement within.
Empty, thank God! He slammed the door shut behind him and let the blackness
envelop him as he sank to the floor with a hoarse sob. He lay in a heap for
who knew how long before he finally calmed down.

His heart gave a sudden leap as he somehow realized, in the total
darkness, that that the room wasn’t empty after all. After a long moment,
he finally summoned up a weak voice. “Who’s there?”

There was a longer silence, and he almost began to hope he was alone
after all, when a soft voice answered “Are you all right?”

Fuck NO! I ain’t all right, you stupid… But Harold controlled
himself before replying, “I will be, eventually. In about fifty years or
so.” He hesitated before the next question, “Are you, um, alone?”

“Yeah.” she replied, “I just wanted to be by myself. I kinda outgrew
the scene out front a long time ago. All the interesting guys already have
somebody. There was one guy, but I think he went home or something.”

Harold got up, a little unsteadily “I’m sorry. Sorry I barged in on
you. I’ll leave now.”

“Please, don’t.” she said, “Unless you really need to. I think we
could both use someone to talk to.”

Harold sat back down against the wall with a weary sigh. “Sure, why
not?” After a silent moment, he continued, “Would you mind turning on a
light? I’d like to see who I’m talking to.”

“Well,” she began doubtfully, “you may feel more comfortable without
the light, but if you insist…” There was a click and a flare of light
exploded into his eyes, blinding him momentarily. When he could open his
eyes, he recieved the last shock of a very long day.

Standing by a lamp on the dresser was the blonde from the vollyball
game, still dressed in the frayed shorts but minus the bikini top, which
lay discarded on the bed. She had her eyes screwed shut against the light,
opening them a moment later.

“Oh! It’s you!”

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