Harold Mitchell

Women who perform with animals

CHAPTER ONE

Strange things sometimes happen in the subway mouths… City subway mouths gaping as though ready to eat the next erstwhile commuter. This was a fact that gnawed at the uneasy mind of Lenny Morgan as she waited in the shadows for Boss Carl.

It was a peculiar meeting place.

She had answered his advertisement with some trepidation, for he had wanted an exotic dancer. Lenny Morgan was just about the most exotic dancer in New York. She mixed her more artistic activities with occasional high-class prostitution, of course. It would seem that she was well-enough fixed, in her leather maxi-coat and expensive shoes, well enough established not to seek any other employment. Seems is not always enough… she had all the money and leisure she needed, but she had caught the disease of the grasping city.

Lenny Morgan was a woman who wanted more.

She wanted to conquer… she wanted to be a star. That was why she had answered Boss Carl's ad. Everyone knew Boss Carl. He had all the bread, all the connections. If he chose, he could make his cleaning lady into a sex symbol.

"Well," Lenny Morgan mused, "I ain't no damned cleaning lady…"

She was interrupted in her apostrophe to herself by a shadow that fell across the pavement before her lovely booted feet. It was a shadow of great bulk; the shadow of a hulking figure in a trench coat with the collar turned up…

Her eyes rose hesitantly, timidly. She had never seen Boss Carl before… it seemed to be a somehow apocalyptic experience, as if she would never again be the same… as if the sight of him would tear some virginal membrane from her consciousness forever.

His face was shockingly pale, with a stubble of dark beard that had apparently escaped the cleansing stroke of a razor for more than a week. He scowled at her and allowed a merciless laugh to spill from his thick lips.

"I… I… I am Lenny Morgan?" she spoke as though asking permission to exist. It seemed that Boss Carl could have denied her identity at that moment and she would slowly disappear, dissolving into the grime and murk of the Metropolitan Transit System.

An evil smile split his face, showing yellowed teeth. He reached up with his hairy and muscular hands, taking the raincoat by the lapels and spreading it wide.

Underneath, he was entirely naked.

His cock was rather large and stout.

"I," he grumbled with Satanic pride, "am Boss Carl!"

Unable to take all these sensations in at once, and almost visibly trembling with dread, Lenny Morgan coldly eyed the body that Boss Carl had so suddenly and strangely exhibited. It was muscular, but not so much an athletic musculature as an animal brutish build. His chest was huge and thick, covered with curling black hairs. His stomach was hard but somewhat swollen, reminding her of nothing more than an overstuffed satyr.

"What's the matter, baby?" Boss Carl snorted, "Ya got nothing to say, huh?"

"Well… I… I don't know what to say. It's all so sudden and everything."

But Boss Carl was not really listening to her, instead he walked circles about her. His eyes flicked restlessly over her voluptuous body, he poked and probed at her breasts with his hairy paws.

"Not bad…" he said conditionally, "not precisely swell… but not bad either…"

Lenny smirked at his cagey estimation of her pulchritude; she knew that he wouldn't be likely to find anybody any better in the entire city.

"Look," she began with renewed courage, "I know that you think of yourself as a pretty big man in your field… but I happen to come with pretty exceptional qualifications myself. Do we talk business, or do I catch the next train home?"

"We talk business." He ripped open her blouse and took a breast in his palm. "What kind of merchandise have you got for me?"

Instinctively, she slapped him across the face.

"Hey!" he yelled painfully, "what the hell did you do that for?"

"In my line of business," she snapped, "we do our best to keep the 'merchandise' in as good shape as possible… it's my stock in trade and I don't cater to people who just screw around with it. I know you're the biggest man in your field, but I don't put out with anything until I get an advance."

He eyed her with a bit more respect, then hastily pulled his trenchcoat closed again. "We better go someplace and talk terms, baby."

"That," she sniffed, "is the first good suggestion you've made."

"I guess we better snap over to my pad… I take all the staff chicks there for interviews." Then a kinder light came into his eyes. "You grunted yet?"

"What?"

"Grunted – eaten, baby… have you eaten yet?"

"No… as a matter of fact, I'm starved."

He took her by the arm and led her to the trains. As they climbed into a village-bound subway, Lenny Morgan began to wonder what kind of weird place he would be taking her for "grunts" as he called them. Probably, she mused, some creepy deli or something.

Much to Lenny's surprise, it was the farthest thing in the world from a creepy deli… it was Boss Carl's own plush "Phylogem Club", one of the most luxurious and elite nightspots in the city.

A waiter greeted them with a superfluity of bows and compliments. The obsequious little man even complimented Boss Carl on the cut of his trenchcoat.

"Wait'll ya see what I got on underneath," Carl quipped.

They were both ushered to a corner table, where Boss Carl ordered them both martinis.

The menu was fabulously expensive, Lenny – deciding to take advantage of the situation – ordered steak and lobster-tails.

"That's groovy, chick." Boss Carl took her hand with what might almost be called tenderness. "Kind of nice to see a chick what eats good old-fashioned grunts instead of that fancy moolash…"

"I like to keep up my strength."

"Yeah," Carl's eyes floated down over her shapely figure, "yeah, that ain't a bad idea, chickie…"

From the gleam in his eye, Lenny presumed that she was going to need all the strength that she had to prove herself worthy of the work he had in mind.

Then she felt a cold shiver run down her spine… until now she hadn't really thought too much about what he might have in mind for her… she had an uneasy premonition that it was not going to be anything ordinary.

She was right.

CHAPTER TWO

Boss Carl's back room was the most lush and luxurious that Lenny had ever seen. It combined the attributes of a bedroom and office, containing a large double bed and a huge walnut desk.

On the desk, Lenny was surprised to see a complicated set of telephones… including a red phone marked, "hot-line".

But that was not the object of her visit… her purpose was to obtain an interview for the position he had advertised. The ad had not specified precisely what he had in mind, so she asked him that question first of all.

"What, precisely, would be my duties?"

A low, threatening laugh escaped from Boss Carl's lips. He sat heavily into the swivel chair behind his desk and held a pencil in his large, hairy hands. For several seconds, his eyes seemed to be transfixed by the tiny pencil. Then he broke it violently in two.

"Time," he said.

"Time?"

"There will be time for those questions later… the first order of business, my little princess, is to derive your own suitability for the job."

Something about his voice, its basso timbre making the very walls shake, made Lenny excessively nervous. Why, she thought to herself, couldn't he tell her what her duties might be?

He stood suddenly and walked to a corner of his desk. His overcoat had somehow become unbuttoned during their conversation and now flopped open, revealing his burly prick where it hung between his massive, hairy thighs. His face was cracked by a meaningful leer.

"Before we begin to discuss terms," he rumbled, "we must see how you perform."

She shrank away from him, desiring only to escape from this impending and brutal attack. The rumors about his sexual prowess were really common knowledge. In every beauty parlor in every mid-town office, the word had long ago been spread that he was the most vicious and insatiable of men.

With a shudder, Lenny remembered how she had once boasted of being enough woman to completely wear even Boss Carl out. She had never dreamed, of course, that she would be put to the test!

"Well?" there was a hint of deprecation in his voice, as though he were insinuating that Lenny were not up to this sort of activity.

"I've… I've never had any complaints."

"I like to check over every piece of merchandise myself…"

The thought suddenly struck Lenny, if she were to get the job, if she were to become the woman whom this brute of a man would turn into the world's biggest star; then she would have to handle every situation with absolute poise.

It was suddenly obvious to the shapely young blonde that this too was a test.

"I usually receive some form of remuneration…" she said coldly, backing away from the advancing brute.

"I think that these circumstances are a bit different, Miss Morgan," he replied. "Perhaps we can look on this as a preliminary audition."

"I am afraid that I cannot perform for you without an advance… for my own professional protection, you understand."

Boss Carl stopped in his tracks. This woman was different! So, he thought grimly to himself, she was parrying his every attack. In that case, he decided, he might as well move on with all possible haste. He pulled a thick wallet from his trenchcoat pocket and produced a one-hundred dollar bill.

"Will this be sufficient?" he asked gruffly.

"Five-hundred," she snapped coldly.

Boss Carl was genuinely impressed. He knew that a cheap street whore would have grasped the money eagerly, ramming it down her blouse before anyone would have the chance to snatch it away from her. A more expensive slut would have demanded two or even three-hundred… but only a woman with truly high professional standards would have had the gall to ask him for five-hundred. He was slightly stung and greatly pleased.

Somewhat reluctantly, Boss Carl dipped into his wallet once more and produced four more one-hundred dollar bills. He tossed them on the floor before Lenny's feet.

"Hand them to me!" she demanded.

He bent and procured the greenbacks, with a humble grin, and pressed them into her waiting hand.

"Now," Lenny pronounced, "you may undress me if you wish."

He grinned and began to work at the buttons of her sweater; finally, with great impatient coughings and gaspings he pulled it off over her head. There was something in the tousle of her blonde hair that excited the animal in him. He ripped her bra from her breasts viciously, cupping one in his hand. He stared for a moment, as though pondering what to do next.

"You…" Lenny smiled, "are not living up to your reputation."

He looked into her eyes with a surprisingly tender grin, then bent to kiss the roundness of her bosom. She thrilled at his gentle touch; she had expected nothing like this at all.

As he fondled and nibbled at her breasts, his other hand slid down to release the fastener of her mini-skirt. It dropped to the floor with a rustling sound. Then his great hairy finger hooked over the waistband of her panties. With a deft flick of the wrist he pulled them down over her knees.

"Kick 'em off," he barked.

She kicked them off.

With a proud smirk, Lenny arched her back, thrusting her hips toward her lover's loins. He responded as though connected to her desire by some magical, golden cord. His great stiff cock thrust against her furry cunt. It prodded the lips, probing for the hot little knob that was her clitoris…

"… the bed…" in the transport of his desire, Boss Carl was barely able to speak. In his wild, exotic life he had never seen such a beautiful, perfect body.

"Your skin…" he marveled. "It's so perfect, so soft and smooth…"

She stretched her body out on the crisp sheets and crooned, "Tell me more, baby."

"Your breasts," he moaned, "they're colossal, and shaped like golden pears…" She had not expected any such tenderness from this magnate of erotica. He kissed her passionately yet gently, covering every inch of her delectable body. His lips brushed lightly along the curve of her neck and moved down to bite and hickey at the soft swell of her tummy. His tongue probed into her elongated navel.

"More!" she cried.

"More, more!" he answered in a joyous, coarse voice.

His lips found the lips of her womanhood then, kissing her cunt with deep and meaningful passion. Lenny felt a hot wave of desire sweep up the length of her body. No one had made love to her with such fierce restraint before… she felt as if he might explode into an uncontrollable animal at any moment. Indeed, this was the skill of the famous Boss Carl; he knew precisely what to hold back and what to force onto a woman. His mouth tested the extent of her desire then pushed it to and beyond its own limits.

"Oh!" she screamed, "Give me more, kiss me there! Suck on me! Suck! Suck!"

He made peculiar grunting sounds as he worked at her open lips of desire, his head bobbed up and down between the soft, silky flesh of her thighs.

"I can't stand anymore!" she roared out, "I can't stand it! Screw me Carl! Screw me!"

His tone became demanding. "Boss!" he hissed into her cunt, stirring the female fluids to a broiling torrent of raw need, "Call me Boss, baby!"

"B… Boss… Boss!" she crooned, "Please screw me, Boss!"

He laughed then, a strange hollow laugh that echoed and reechoed throughout the room. With a fantastic, athletic lunge, he arched his body up over her prone loveliness and sank his magnificent cock deeply into her open cunt.

The sensation was marvelous; Lenny felt as though a huge cannon had gone off inside her vulva. She strained and arched against it. Driving her hips up against the hard muscular flesh that ravished her so delightfully.

"Oh!" she cried out, "It's beautiful… it's so groovy! Uh! Uh!"

Now Carl was hunching his loins up into her with a jackhammer force, urging her and smashing her to the very edge of climax.

Then, with a small cry and a great raking of her fingernails across the hard, muscular back, Lenny Morgan came extravagantly. Her woman fluids rushed and poured from the opening between her long, slender legs. The flesh of her thighs glistened with the consummation.

Grunting rhythmically, Boss Carl drove his great prick into her with spurts of orgasm. Lenny could feel the hot liquid splashing into her, mixing with her own juices to form a witch's brew of satisfied lust.

"That," Lenny said after she had caught her breath, "That was just divine…"

Boss Carl growled something about the second test and scooped up his trenchcoat. He wrapped it around his body like a dressing gown and then walked to the great walnut desk. He was making some kind of notation on the pad.

"Well, lover," she said hoarsely, "do I pass the test?"

"Dynamite!" he snarled in genuine appreciation of her talents. "But that was just the first test…"

***

This was the premiere showing of his latest picture, Men Among Menageries. He had hated the picture, with the exception of the animals involved… he loved animals, with the soft fur and large, beguiling eyes.

He directed his driver to proceed to the usual spot. The usual spot in this case was the Phylogem Club.

Lyle Montagne was typical of the extraordinarily wealthy and influential customers who frequented Boss Carl's exotic club. He enjoyed the privacy, the lush and extravagant decor… and most of all – the extraordinary entertainment.

This entertainment usually included performances by the most exceptionally beautiful women with various animals and birds. "Love-Dances" the billing described them – and they were indeed the most brilliant displays of exotic passion that could be found anywhere in the country.

This evening, the maitre d' ushered him to a corner table and instructed him that the powerful proprietor wished a few words with him.

"Certainly," the handsome actor replied. "Bring him to the table please… and order some champagne cocktails for both of us."

"I believe sir," the waiter responded respectfully, "that he wishes to introduce you to a young lady…"

"So…" Lyle lit a cigarette and shook the match out vigorously, "… that's it, eh? Another candidate. Well, don't just stand there, man, bring cocktails for three."

"Yes sir," the waiter disappeared quickly.

In a moment the burly Boss Carl appeared in his perpetual trenchcoat and bare feet. With him, Lyle noted, was one of the most beautiful women that he had ever seen. She was tall and voluptuously built, with long blonde hair and large blue eyes.

"May I present Miss Morgan… Miss Morgan, Mister Lyle Montagne," Boss Carl growled politely.

Lenny could believe neither her ears nor her eyes. She had seen the tall, handsome Montagne in almost every picture he had ever made. He was famous! It seemed like something out of a fairy tale, that she should be sitting at the same table with one of the country's biggest stars.

"Miss Morgan," Montagne turned on his famous charm. "I am very glad to meet you… you are indeed beautiful."

"Yeah," Boss Carl grumbled in assent. "She makes it in that department all right. Have you grunted yet, Lyle?"

"I had something to eat before the screening, thanks."

Lenny was impressed by the casual banter between the two men. Boss Carl certainly got around in the important circles all right.

"Well," Lyle said cheerfully, "when do we give our lovely candidate the final test?"

Boss Carl nodded toward the stage, upon which could be seen a bustle of activities. Grips were running here and there, setting up some large and rather peculiar-looking devices. Lenny had never seen anything like them before.

"Let's see how she reacts to the show, first…" Boss Carl murmured. "Maybe she won't want the job so damned much after that, eh Lyle?"

Lyle grinned, "I don't know… I think it's really quite a beautiful spectacle."

Lenny looked from one face to the other, searching for a clue to the events that were about to unfold. They were, however, blank and unrevealing. She turned instead toward the stage. Whatever it was, it must be something special, she thought, because the audience was pretty high-class. It was not uncommon to find senators and politicians, well-known and powerful businessmen, and even more famous figures in the audience. Some of them wore masks in order to keep their identities secret.

The band struck up a stripper rhythm; the heavy beat churning into Lenny's heart; it was her kind of music. She tapped her fingers on the table and wiggled her shoulders slightly. She herself was an exotic dancer by trade, and she loved the sound of the exotic music…

She glanced at Boss Carl; he was staring intently at the left wings… waiting, she supposed for the star to appear.

It was a shock to Lenny to see a horse led onto the stage. It was a beautiful white stallion, with gold ribbons in its long flowing mane.

What, she wondered anxiously, did the horse have to do with the performance? A shudder of desire went through her body… she remembered some of her childhood experiences. For Lenny Morgan, the sophisticated dancer and five-hundred dollar whore, had grown up on a farm in Ohio. She thought about the horse that she had ridden as a little girl, and the warm, sensual feeling she had had for him…

Boss Carl was watching her face. Lyle Montagne was watching her face. She did not realize it, but Lenny Morgan was undergoing another important test.

These two impresarios of the exotic arts were studying her every gesture… trying to determine her deepest, most secret reactions to the performance that was beginning to unfold before her waiting eyes. If she demonstrated interest, she might have a chance for the job. If she demonstrated enthusiasm, then she had only one more test to pass.

In her smooth, sensual loins, Lenny Morgan felt a hot boiling passion grow. She loved the gigantic animal, with its powerful, graceful movements. It reminded her so of old Charley – the horse of her farmgirl childhood.

Next, a young redhead came out onto the stage; she was well built and quite a smooth dancer. Lenny eyed her with something akin to jealousy. She knew that she could do better.

The redhead danced around the animal, which was held by two stalwart attendants in black turtlenecks. She removed the long green veil that draped her body and threw it across the animal's back.

The drumbeat increased in tempo, driving relentlessly toward some hidden climax. The girl now wore only a pair of sequined green panties and green pasties on her bosom. Lenny noted that the girl was well endowed in that area, her breasts were large and firm with flawlessly smooth skin.

The girl began to fondle the animal's muzzle, feeding him sugar and whispering seductively into his car. With a gay laugh and thrusting of her breasts, she permitted the horse to lap the pasties away.

The woman was completely naked from the waist up.

Lenny thought to herself that the pasties must have been made of sugar or something – it was a clever idea. But she barely believed her eyes when the girl ripped off her panties and began to toy frankly with her furry cunt. The juices flowed readily, flowing, flowing until her thighs glistened brilliantly under the bright lights. Lenny had never been allowed to do anything like this in the clubs where she had worked. They would have been busted for sure, she thought.

She looked around the room nervously.

"It's all right," Boss Carl said, as though reading her mind, "the cops never come here – except as customers."

Lenny gave a low whistle; this guy sure had things set up! He must know, she thought, he must know everybody!

Now the girl on the stage was helping the handlers to arrange the equipment, which consisted of a large leather harness and some supports. They strapped the harness around the horse's back, so that it hung loosely below the beast's belly.

Lenny knew for sure, now. This was what she was being interviewed for. The thought, rather than repulsing her, was extremely exciting.

The girl on the stage climbed under the horse and tested the harnessing… ostensibly to see if they would hold her weight, but Lenny knew that it was just a matter of teasing the audience – getting their interest aroused to the keenest possible edge.

But the girl did not slip her lithe and seductive body into the straps immediately. Instead she knelt and began to play with the gigantic genitalia of the animal.

The redhead first toyed with the gargantuan balls, rolling them tenderly in her palms. The horse whinnied and pawed the stage-floor restlessly. He was becoming aroused.

Lenny wondered for a moment whether or not the animal truly enjoyed it… then she remembered the horse of her girlhood, Charley. Yes, she thought, there could be no doubt that the animal was having a hell of a good time.

Now the woman took the horse's cock into her mouth. It was a stretch, but she did it, sucking vigorously on the huge prickhead, lapping and kissing it passionately.

Big Carl was barely watching the show… he had seen it all a thousand times. What he was interested in was the reaction of the attractive blonde sitting between him and Lyle Montagne. This was an important test, indeed.

He grinned, for he saw the wetness at the corner of Lenny's mouth. He saw the way she rubbed her thighs together and ran her tongue impulsively round and round her full, red lips.

Boss Carl and Montagne exchanged pleased and meaningful glances.

But Lenny was too busy… her eyes were held by the strange act being performed on the stage as though hypnotized. The jealousy within her grew and grew… that was a mighty big piece of masculinity that the redhead was stroking in preparation. Lenny wanted some of that hard, swollen tool herself.

Now the woman slipped backward into the leather sling. She was suspended there under the stallion's belly. With a powerful lunge, she rammed her open cunt onto the huge prick. Her mouth opened and a long, passionate scream mixed with the strident music.

Lenny felt a surge of wetness between her own thighs. Oblivious to any observers, she shoved her fingers deeply into her own cunt and began to manipulate, to probe her golden need.

Boss Carl noticed this. He reached under the table and under his trenchcoat. With a few strokes he had his own manly staff fully erect and ready. He knew that he could pick up some action from this lovely blonde girl… and action was his business.

Now the girl and animal on the stage were striving against one another with desperate passion.

CHAPTER THREE

At the precise moment of the redhead's orgasm, her masturbating friend came too. He came so hard, his come hit the tabletop. Lenny dug deeply between her thighs searching for the very source of her passion. Boss Carl thrashed so violently in his excitement that he upset the wine glasses which were hastily removed by the waiter.

Lyle Montagne was studying Lenny's lovely features with a great deal of interest. He had a hunch that this was the girl that they had been looking for… of course, it was too early to tell for sure.

There were, he thought with a grim smile, several tests yet to be completed.

The threesome recovered their strength over some after-dinner drinks, then moved back to the elaborate offices of the famous and wealthy Boss Carl.

This was to be the scene of the next test. Lenny's mind was in a turmoil; she wondered with some apprehension, precisely what these two fabulous and unusual men had in mind for her now.

Lyle ushered her politely to a couch in the corner of the office, while Boss Carl rummaged in a cabinet. Lenny had no idea what they were doing…

"Next," Lyle said gently, "we must test your background…"

"Fine," Lenny replied brightly, "I'll tell you anything you want to know."

Boss Carl turned suddenly from the cabinet. In his hand was a long and lethal hypodermic needle. He laughed in his peculiar, guttural way and said, "You, my little kitten, are going to tell us everything, whether you like it or not."

"What do you mean?" Lenny was, for the first time, truly afraid, "What are you going to do to me?"

"Nothing to be frightened of, my dear," Lyle crooned soothingly, "Simply a slight dose of sodium pentathol – the truth serum."

"Truth serum?" she looked helplessly from one to the other. "What the hell do you mean? What is a truth serum?"

Boss Carl let a crooked grin crease his pallid face, "A truth serum, Lenny, don't you understand? We're going to put you to sleep. While you are asleep you will relive the exotic events of your young life. Whatever question we ask you, whatever event we ask about, you will have to tell us the absolute truth in every detail. You will not be able to lie!"

She shivered – this was a bit more than she had bargained for. Besides, she had never enjoyed shots of any kind. Obviously, however, the young dancer was going to have no choice in the matter.

While Lyle held her down on the soft couch, Boss Carl slid the needle into her arm. She winced slightly with the pricking of the sharp point… then the drug began to have its effect. She felt herself floating above the room, sliding away from the two men who huddled eagerly over her prostrate body.

She thought she heard singing somewhere… it sounded like the voice of her mother, but it was soon gone in the muddle of sounds and sensations that came to her as though through a fog.

Suddenly, with a start, she realized that a dark form was moving toward her through the mist. She was able only to make out that it was a man – a man in a trenchcoat.

Then he moved through the last tendrils of shifting fog. It was a vision of Boss Carl. He was speaking to her, her voice slowly, dreamily coming to her through the whirling mists.

"Can you hear me, Lenny…"

She moaned and twisted her head from side to side, fighting for fuller consciousness. Her limbs felt heavy, drugged. She no longer knew where she was.

"… Lenny, can you hear me speaking to you?"

"Yes," she replied in a faint, trance-like voice.

"Excellent," Boss Carl said. "Now, you must tell me everything that I ask you to…"

"I will, Boss Carl," she replied vaguely. "I will tell you everything that you ask of me…"

"Wonderful, Lenny," he said in a deep voice. "Now I am going to start by asking you some questions about your childhood."

She nodded and waited…

"Did you like animals when you were a little girl, Lenny?"

"Yes…"

"How much, Lenny?" the voice asked. "Did you pet them and touch them?"

"Yes…"

"Was there an animal that you especially liked?"

"Yes…"

"What kind of an animal was that, Lenny?"

"It… it was a… a horse…"

"What was the horse's name?"

"Charley…"

"Will you tell us about the times when you and Charley had special fun, Lenny?"

"Yes…"

"Thank you, Lenny," Boss Carl's voice was growing far away, and the vision of the great man also blurred as though the fog was closing around him.

In his place, Lenny now saw her old childhood pet, the gentle horse, Charley. She ran to him and began to pet his mane. He turned his great brown eyes to her and seemed to smile.

Suddenly, Lenny remembered where she was. She was in the barn that the family had had when she was just thirteen years old. Of course, and here was good old Charley.

They had just been out for a ride and she was brushing him. She brushed down his sweating flanks until the short, dark hair gleamed like burnished gold. Then, tenderly, she rubbed his cheeks and let her fingers tickle the underside of his great strong neck. She giggled as he whinnied and stamped in growing excitement. She had long ago noticed that he became stiff and erect when she brushed him. She was old enough to know what his massive organ was for…

She looked apprehensively around the stables. There seemed to be no one about. Her father and mother were in town, buying some supplies. With a wicked little-girl grin, Lenny reached down and began to caress the horses belly. He made a strange groaning noise as she did so.

"Oh, so you want to talk to me," Lenny laughed gaily, "well go ahead, Charley, talk!"

His great horse head turned to her plaintively. She felt an overwhelming wave of affection for this huge and muscular companion. After all, she thought to herself, he had always been good to her… loyal and gentle in every way… perhaps she should repay him by doing something that would please him.

Of course, she sensed that what she was doing to him – letting her slender fingers rub closer and closer to that massive organ – was wrong. But she didn't really care. If anyone thought she was committing some kind of sin, that would have to be because they didn't really know Charley and what wonderful things he had done for her.

She let her hand slip closer and closer to the great stiff animal-prick. The huge animal began to tremble with excitement and make that strange groaning sound in its throat.

"Keep talking," Lenny murmured, "Keep talking, Charley; I like it."

Then she took his mammoth member in her slender fingers and began to stroke it. She had never touched a cock before, man or animal's. Something in its foreign and exotic nature excited her. She closed her eyes and imagined a prince in shining white armor, as tall and strong as a beast with locks of golden hair falling in tumbles over his brow. She imagined that she was reaching in behind the codpiece of this kind knight and stroking his gigantic prick. It was thrilling.

She wondered as the organ began to grow in her hand, she wondered whether a man's cock was this big. With a sudden flush of passion, young Lenny Morgan vowed to find out. She felt a surge of desire in her loins, a wetness that glistened down the insides of her thighs.

"Oh!" she cried out, "Oh! Charley! This is fun, isn't it?"

The big animal nodded and neighed in assent.

Then he came violently all over the front of Lenny's dress. She stared down at the liquid with disbelief; the stuff had a peculiar, yet somehow exciting odor. The sight of it smeared all over her smock thrilled her.

The stirring in her loins grew stronger, more demanding. She could no longer stand it. She could no longer deny herself the thrill. With a rough gesture, she forced her little hand up under her skirt and began to rub her own cunt.

Charley, smelling the female odors, turned his great head and began to lap at her crotch with a long pink tongue.

"Oh Charley!" she cried out involuntarily, then could speak no more. The rough surface of the horse's tongue was grinding against her clitoris in the most sensuous way…

She ripped her panties from her hips, tossing them aside on a bundle of hay.

The horse whinnied beneath her skirts and began to lap even more avidly.

With a shudder, grabbing the horse's ears tightly in her young hands – Lenny Morgan came for the first time in her life. Shoving her lovely young hips against the large animal's head vigorously.

When she had finally spent all the juices stored within her cunt, the young girl bent to kiss the beast's prick tenderly right on the massive head, then scampered up the walk to the main house.

When her mother arrived from town, carrying a large bundle in her arms and asking how the ride had been, Lenny just grinned.

"Charley and I," Lenny said innocently, "had a marvelous time…"

***

"What do you think, Carl?" Lyle asked.

"I think we might have stumbled onto something really groovy with this chick," the big man answered as he fished a cigar out of his pocket. He always carried several in his trenchcoat. Fat and smelly cigars were Boss Carl's trademark.

"Well," Lyle rubbed his hands together in brisk enthusiasm, "I guess we know everything that we need to know."

Boss Carl raised an arresting hand. "Not so damned fast, actor-boy." He turned his gaze toward the lovely body of Lenny Morgan where it lay on the couch. "Let's see what else we can find in this girl's past. Turn on the tape again – I'm going to ask some more questions."

***

Out of the swirling haze, she heard Boss Carl's voice once more.

"Lenny, my lovely girl, do you still hear me?"

"Yes, Boss Carl, I hear you."

It was odd, but her own voice sounded to her to be just as distant as Boss Carl's.

"Now, Lenny," the voice droned on, "did you have any other experiences in that field? I mean, experiences with animals in which you stroked them and became excited?"

The mists parted slowly, she was hitching along a highway now. She was eighteen years old.

The automobiles sped by without even glancing at her. She was discouraged. She hadn't thought it would be so difficult to hitchhike to the city. No one seemed to care about her. No one seemed to be willing to give her a ride into the future.

Sobbing quietly, the young woman sat by the road. There was no one else around and she began to feel a deep, intense loneliness.

Suddenly, there was a noise behind her. It was a bull in the field by the road. He was large and strong with a mean red look in his eyes.

Lenny turned toward him in fright. But she soon realized that she was safe. Not only was the animal fenced into the small pasture, but he also seemed to be friendly and curious.

Lenny moved to the fence and held out a handful of grass. The beast took it shyly and walked some distance away before eating it. After he had digested the entire handful of grass, the bull turned toward her with a baleful look in his eyes.

"Come on, Boss," she said temptingly, holding out another handful of grass. "Come on, Bossie, get something to eat."

The monstrous beast moved closer to her and pulled the handful of grass eagerly into his mouth. This time, the large bull did not move away. He opened his great mouth and mooed in the most mournful of tones.

"Whatcha want, Bossie?" the young woman asked gently, stroking his massive black head.

The animal whooped and pressed his huge chest against the barb wire fence, heedless of the sharp prongs that dug into his flesh.

"Oh!" Lenny cried out in sympathy. "You're going to hurt yourself!" Impulsively, she clambered through the fence and led the bull toward the center of the field. He bellowed and moaned as her soft hands caressed his immensely muscular body.

By chance, Lenny glanced beneath his belly and saw a movement. She was startled at first, for it seemed to be an independently living thing. Then she realized that the motion was the rising of the bull's own male organ. Fascinated, she stepped back and gazed at it. It was colossal. Perhaps a foot and a half in length when fully erect.

"Bossie," she said in a hushed voice, "that is a big one!"

Bending quickly, Lenny scampered under the great heaving belly of the beast and took his immense cock in both her hands. She rubbed her palms together enthusiastically, until the friction made the red organ hot and hard as a piece of freshly tempered steel.

Then, without even a second thought, Lenny took the thick head of the bull's penis in her mouth. He hunched his hindquarters and humped rhythmically at her red lips. She sucked vigorously and noisily.

The beast began to bellow happily. Lenny moved back for an instant to catch her breath.

"Like it, lover?" she asked seductively, stroking his swelling underbelly. His answer was a roar that threatened to shake the fence posts from their places.

Laughing gaily, Lenny closed her full luscious red lips over the head of the bull's huge rod once more. She sucked and sucked, bobbing her head back and forth rhythmically, working against the thrusts of the heavy animal's body.

Suddenly, the beast's back legs skidded out straight and stiff behind him. He braced and shivered ecstatically. With a great bellow and whoosh of hot liquid, the animal came into Lenny's willing and waiting mouth.

"Um," she crooned happily, wiping at the corners of her mouth. "Umm, lover bull, umm!"

Then the mists began to close around her again, the bull disappeared, and she was only aware of a rushing through time. A rushing controlled by the mysterious Boss Carl and his truth serum – sodium pentathol.

The great booming voice came through the shroud of fog once more. "Lenny, Lenny…" it echoed. "That was very interesting, but was there anything more that happened?"

She smiled at the suggestion. Yes, she thought coyly, there was one thing more. But it was so strange and embarrassing she had never told anyone of it. She did not want to tell anyone of it.

"You must tell me," Boss Carl's voice thundered ominously. "You must tell me, Lenny."

And the mists cleared once more.

She was in the zoo. It was quite late and only a few die-hard stragglers were headed for the dark gateways. She had stopped to hustle an attractive young attendant.

"Well honey," Lenny crooned seductively, "don't you get off from work soon?" She was twenty-one and already a full-time prostitute and part-time dancer. She was working her way up in the world.

"Yeah," the young man grinned. "Yeah, sure, baby. But I gotta clean out one more cage before we take off."

"Oh, good!" Lenny chirped. "That sounds real interesting. I just love animals. Can I come and help you?" It was actually true. Lenny did love animals. Sometimes they seemed much nicer to her than people. Much friendlier…

The young attendant looked for a moment at this young streetwalker who seemed so different from the others. There was something exciting and special about her, the attendant thought. She was so enthusiastic and fresh.

"Sure, baby," he said finally. "Why not?"

They walked down the long rows of cages, past the elephants and monkeys and tigers. They stopped before the gorilla cage.

"I gotta clean out the gorilla cages," he said. "You still want to help me out?"

There was a peculiar gleam in Lenny's eyes as she stared at the large hairy beasts.

"Of course," she said quickly.

The two entered the cage and began to sweep up the shavings. In a few minutes they had made a large pile of shavings in one corner. A wild idea came to Lenny then. She sat heavily on the pile of shavings and began to pull her low-cut blouse off over her head.

"Hey!" the young attendant shouted. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm getting ready for you," she answered softly from the dark corner. "Let's do it right here. It's wild!"

"Are you crazy?" he glanced apprehensively toward the gorillas who had huddled fearfully in the other corner.

"If you do me right here in the gorilla cage," she purred seductively, "I won't charge you at all. You see, I've never had it in a gorilla cage before."

The attendant thought about it for a second, then decided that it made sense. Besides, the sight of her magnificently bare breasts in the dim light was exciting him already. His prick strained beneath his uniform trousers. He stood for a moment or two just staring at her, taking in her beauty.

Unbeknownst to either of them, another pair of eyes was watching carefully, interestedly.

Lenny pulled the fastener free and let her short skirt slide down over her thighs. As was her custom in those days, she wore no panties.

"Come on, lover boy," she hissed temptingly.

She writhed suggestively on the mound of shavings, letting her hand slip down between her legs to massage the furry opening into greater readiness.

Unable to control himself any longer, the young attendant began to remove his trousers at the same time as he rushed toward her.

In his haste, the fellow tripped on the pants, which fell down, around his ankles. He landed with his face in her lap. Impulsively, he began to kiss her cunt. He sucked on the musky juices and let his tongue slide in and out of the opening.

Lenny hunched her loins up against the young man's willing lips. She loved to have men kiss her there.

"Suck on it, lover," she murmured. "Suck, suck!"

"Mmm," he groaned ecstatically as he let his hands move up to titillate her lovely breasts.

Something about the strange situation excited him, as he had never been excited before. His cock grew so stiff and large that he feared it might burst. He kissed her cunt and sucked her cunt and let his tongue explore her womanly softness. He wanted to drink her essence into him until he could drink no more. But soon he realized that there was something he wanted more.

His stiff prick yearned to home itself in her soft wet vulva. He could not wait any longer. With a cry of desperate urgency, he lunged up onto her, forcing his prick into her so deeply that he feared he might injure her.

"Ahh!" he screamed in lascivious delight. "Ahh! Let's screw and screw and screw! Let's screw our brains out!"

The feel of his stiff, hot cock in her cunt was delicious to lovely Lenny. She cried out and struggled to force him more and more deeply into her. She wanted to drive his prick right up into her insides, right up into her skull.

"Screw me, baby!" she screeched in passionate need. "Screw me, fuck me, honey! Fuck me until I bust!"

With a succession of guttural grunts and lustful cursings, the young attendant forced his prick into the lubricated softness. Again and again he drove his manhood home. It seemed that the further he pushed into this remarkable woman, the more she swore and yelled out for more.

"Honey, honey!" Lenny cried hungrily. "More, more!" her voice rose in rhythmic chant, coinciding with each lunge of his hot young prick. "Yes, yes!"

Their violent cries joined in the dark corner like some primitive fertility chant. Any passerby might have become irretrievably excited by the mere sound of their raw, uncontrolled lust.

The young man began to scream his delight at this remarkable sexual adventure. "Baby! Baby!" But his boyish voice was cut short by a heavy hand on his shoulder.

At first, he thought he had been caught by one of the superintendents. He trembled with dread as he turned to face the tall, shadowy figure that had interrupted their delicious intercourse.

But it was not one of the superintendents. It was one of the bull gorillas who had been watching them jealously from the moment Lenny had plopped onto the pile of shavings to undress herself.

Seeing this, the attendant suddenly screamed in fear. Taking the cry as a mating challenge, the bull gorilla decided to assert his superiority. With a quick wrenching of a hairy and muscular limb, the gorilla tossed the attendant to the other side of the room. He lay there unconscious.

Lenny too was a bit frightened at first, but she quickly sensed that while the gorilla's intentions were not entirely innocent, they were completely friendly.

He hunched the great hairy body over her and began to caress the luscious contours of her body, making odd growls and muffled groanings all the while.

She was still hot from the servicing of the attendant, as a matter of fact; she was on the keen edge of orgasm that demands relief from whatever source. She grasped the large humanoid beast behind the buttocks and pulled him down onto her.

His many doubts and fears, befuddled and confused in his dim and primitive brain, disappeared instantly in the face of this bold and brazen invitation from the human female.

With a great roar of triumph, the beast drove his foot-long prick roughly up into her ready cunt. She gasped at the size of the intruding organ. For a mad moment, she was afraid that he would burst her womb, but the pain was only momentary. She felt her cuntwalls giving way to the large and demanding cock of the passionate gorilla. The sensation was like none she had ever had. The walls of her vulva were like a sensitive glove on the huge prick, every inch of the wet surface was transmitting twinges of intense delight.

"Gorilla!" she screamed passionately. "Fuck me gorilla! Fuck me until I go blind!"

The gorilla answered with an enthusiastic grunt, driving his gorilla-hood deeper still in her flowing cunt.

"Screw me." She was weaker now, trembling on the verge of climax. "Screw me, you gorilla!"

With a violent twitching and cursing, she felt the flood sweep through the gates and carry her passion over the edge. She drove her fingernails into the beast's wild back. He snarled with pain and joy, his cock spurted a geyser of gorilla juices up into her. They clung to each other for several minutes, thrashing and shuddering with pleasure.

Then, as is a gorilla's wont, the huge animal stood and walked back to his corner to sleep. Now that he had released the deep urge he was completely disinterested.

Not so, Lenny Morgan, her lovely naked body glistened with sweat as she lay catching her breath. She had loved it, but though she respected the gorilla's size, she was unimpressed by his limited staying power.

"Gorilla," she mumbled softly, "you just don't have what it takes to please a woman like me."

Then she saw the crumpled form of the attendant in the corner. With a cry of fear and sympathy, Lenny rushed over to aid him. A quick check revealed that he was still alive, but unconscious. She looked for injuries, but found none.

Then she realized that the poor young fellow must have fainted from shock. She couldn't really blame him. That gorilla must have been pretty rough competition for such a young man.

She decided to revive him. She bent down and took his limp cock between her hands, kneading it gently back into life. In a moment, it stood stiff and proud once more.

As her lips closed caressingly around the hard and eager prick, the young man's eyes began to flutter. He awoke to find the beautiful young streetwalker nibbling and kissing at his stiff prick.

He forgot the gorilla entirely. He grabbed Lenny by the waist and sat her roughly down onto his prick.

At the somewhat less-than-gorilla-size organ shoved up into her already rejuvenated cunt, Lenny Morgan smiled knowingly.

"It's alright, kid," she whispered secretively. "You know what they say – it's not how long you make it, it's how long you make it long!"

He did all right.

CHAPTER FOUR

Lyle Montagne stared across the table at Boss Carl.

"When do you think she'll wake up, Carl?" he said in a concerned tone.

"Take it easy, baby," the big kink-magnate said with a crooked grin. "It won't be long now, and we found out everything we need to know. She's a prime candidate for the Xylotrope plot."

"It's going to be rough," the movie star said in a grave manner, "don't you think we ought to tell her what it's going to involve?"

"We will, baby – we will – but first I want to put her through one more test. If she's going to fit into our operation, she has to be the best. No questions, no doubts – she has to be the absolute best. I've screened seventy-five girls for this spot and I don't want to make any mistakes."

Lyle Montagne had a worried look. "Carl, don't you think that some of your refugee regulars – maybe the redhead with the horse…"

"No!" Boss Carl cut him off. "There ain't a chance in a million that an ordinary nightclub performer could do the trick. It has to be somebody special; besides, it has to be somebody that the Xylotrope people can't connect with me."

"Remember, we gotta sneak her into the plant without anybody knowin' what's goin' on."

The two men tossed off the last of their stiff drinks and made their way through the crowded Phylogem Club to the back room.

Lenny Morgan was just awakening when the two men came in.

"Hi!" she said, rubbing at her eyes. "Did everything go all right?"

Lyle sat beside her on the couch and took her head into his hands. "It went perfect, baby," he said reverently. "I mean, you were just beautiful." He kissed her almost tenderly on the lips.

Lyle Montagne knew what was in store for her next.

"Okay Trixie," Boss Carl boomed in a businesslike voice, "are you ready for the next test?"

"Another test?" Lenny asked, annoyed. "When do I find out what part I'm trying out for?"

"It won't be long, chickie," Boss Carl answered shortly. "Until then, why you just have to hang on and do your best. I can tell you this, though – the next test is the last."

"Well…" Lenny put her thoughts into words, "that's good to know anyhow."

Boss Carl helped her into her clothes, occasionally letting a rough hand fall where it shouldn't. Then, the three of them left the Phylogem Club and rode toward the East Village in a black limousine.

Lenny noticed that the chauffeur never showed his face, his collar was turned up and he allowed himself only to glance into the rear-view mirror occasionally. It seemed odd, but she made no comment. Boss Carl gave the strange driver his orders through a speaking tube.

"Take us to Louie's," Boss Carl ordered.

The car swerved and sped up a side street. Lenny noticed that the neighborhood was exceptionally run down. She made no comment. It seemed to her that Boss Carl had a lot of contacts in this kind of area – it seemed that he transacted much of his business in the underworld as a matter of fact.

As she had so often been told, Boss Carl was no ordinary businessman.

The limousine finally pulled up in front of a truly notorious looking tenement. Lenny wondered how the rich and influential Lyle Montagne felt about hanging around in this kind of place. In her experience, the only people who lived in this type of shack were either junkies or winos.

Nevertheless, she assented to climb the rickety stairs and enter the dim apartment that Louie – what he was – called home.

It was a miserable hovel, the dingy apartment slandered even further by the lack of housekeeping. Bottles and dirty magazines lay about on the floor everywhere. There was no sign of human life.

"Louie!" Boss Carl yelled. "Where the hell are ya, ya bum?"

They heard a muffled groan from the other room. In a few minutes a sleep-grogged figure appeared wearing pajamas that must have been white at one time – but were now completely grey.

"Okay Louie," there was a very real sense of threat in Boss Carl's voice now, "where's the beast?"

"What?" The man was fat and bald, with a certain confused air that one most often associates with those who imbibe heavily during the daylight hours. "Wha' ya wan' da beest fo'?"

"Don't sweat the reasons, ya drunken bum…" Boss Carl's stem voice seemed to have a marked effect upon the man, "we ain't here to screw around, Louie, we got a live one here."

Louie's hither to bleary eyes became suddenly alert. He swung his gaze quickly toward Lenny. "She's a real looker, Boss, I'll say that. Ya thin' she'll work out?"

"I dunno, Louie – you're the one who'll have to be the judge of that."

Lenny was surprised at this revelation, she could not for the life of her see what this fellow, Louie, had that was of value to the influential Boss Carl. The whole thing somehow excited her. It was so mysterious and unusual. She began to realize that she was involved in something bigger than a simple nightclub act – precisely what that something was still remained a mystery to her.

Louie led them down a set of even more rickety stairs to the basement. It was entered through a heavy locked door. Lenny noted that the door was in poor repair, needing a coat of paint even more than the rest of the tenement house. But she did not expect what was behind that door.

They descended into a large, plush room – almost the size of the main dining room of the Phylogem Club. She gasped as she saw the walls were decorated entirely in thick red velour with gold trimmings and elaborate paintings of an exceptionally erotic nature.

"This," Boss Carl announced to her proudly, "is my private showing room. In here, the true elite of the exotic appreciators seek the ultimate in performance… and, I might say, get their money's worth!"

The three men led the lovely blonde woman to a dais made up of plush red cushions and a large harness arrangement somewhat similar to that used by the redhead in the Phylogem Club.

"Gee!" Lenny exclaimed in awed tones. "This place is really groovy. I mean, I think it's the most fabulous thing that I've ever seen!"

"I'm sure it is, Lenny." Lyle seemed to be by far the kindest of the three men. He smiled at Lenny as though she were a little girl on Christmas morning. "Would you like to work here, young lady?"

"Would I ever!" she exclaimed excitedly, "This would be a dancer's dream!"

Louie nodded in agreement, then slapped his hands together twice. The gesture reminded Lenny of movies she had seen of Arabian princes and their harem girls. She was not surprised to see a bevy of gorgeous women hustling out to do the master's bidding.

"Set it up for number one," Louie ordered.

The girls stared at him as though in disbelief.

The tallest of them and apparently the leader spoke in respectful, but doubting, tones. "You didn't say, NUMBER ONE?"

"That's right, chickie," Boss Carl snapped impatiently. "He said number one."

The tall girl whirled without another word and started to hustle the others around. They seemed to be very well drilled in this exercise, despite their expressed surprise at Louie's request.

Lenny noted that these girls were, if anything, more attractive than the ravishing beauties she had seen working in the Phylogem Club. They were dressed in harem outfits, with scanty tops that revealed almost everything but the nipples.

The panties were made of a veil-like material that allowed one to see the fur of their pubic areas quite clearly. The long, billowing pantaloons were made of an even filmier substance that showed off the perfect flesh of each girl's long and shapely legs.

They were setting something up, but it was not immediately clear to the gorgeous Lenny what that something was.

She stood between Lyle and Boss Carl, almost hypnotized by the efficient and graceful preparations of the harem girls. She realized suddenly that their every move seemed to be part of an elaborate and beautiful dance without music. These women were extraordinarily talented!

"What are they doing?" Lenny chose to direct her question to Lyle Montagne, who seemed to be the most easy-going of the men.

He looked at her sternly and spoke as though she had broken some kind of rule. "You'll known soon enough."

There was a rumbling and rustling in the wings. Lenny saw the great scarlet curtains flowing and trembling as some large activities stirred the otherwise quiet air behind them.

Two of the harem girls emerged. They were leading the strangest and most exotic looking animal that Lenny Morgan had ever seen.

It was a giant sloth.

The strange and clumsy beast was dressed in a sailor suit, with a small cap strapped to its heavy head. Lenny had never seen such an animal before. It moved with a tremendous reluctance, as though it preferred sleep to any kind of movement whatsoever. This in fact, as any zoologist would testify, was the case. The giant sloth is the slowest and most reluctant of all creatures that trod the face of this planet. He spends far and away the majority of his time suspended upside-down from a tree-limb.

What he does in this position, few people have been able even to conjecture. Some scientists would tell us that he sleeps – but what mammal needs twenty-four hours of sleep a day?

Louie, despite his slovenly appearance, was apparently quite an expert on nature. He began to explain to the dumbfounded Lenny.

"That animal," he began in gruff, but scholarly tones, "is da most unarousable of all species. He ees da dumbest and most immovable fibing objek in all da woild. I mean it, Miss Morgan, to get that f-dding best to enjoy segsooal entorcourse ees nigh unto empossible."

Lenny, who despite her lack of education was rather a bright young woman, detected for the first time the hint of a foreign accent in Louie's voice. She realized suddenly that his lower-class accent was a put-on. Once, Lenny had known a pimp who had disguised his French accent by talking in a tough, almost unintelligible Bronx dialect. He had been so enthusiastic about becoming an American – and so embarrassed by his foreign accent, that he covered it up by speaking like a bum.

"Eet ees oonlikaly, Miss Morgan," the tough and sloppy Louie went on, "that you will be able ta arouse thees Goddomb beast. He ees named 'Droopy', becos uv his nadaral hobit ov follink azleep on da jop."

Boss Carl was eyeing Lenny in a peculiar and suspicious manner. She had to avert her eyes from his gaze, because it made her extremely nervous.

"Look," the informative Louie went on, "dis beast am a begatatian fo da most part. He just lies arount and eet da leefs from da Goddomb trees. I mean, booby, he don' dig ta make luf – god me?"

Despite her difficulty in following his unusual speech patterns, Lenny nodded – she got the gist of what he was saying anyway.

This animal was not a natural lover. He had to be coaxed.

"Da whot dey got in zoos," Louie was gnnnmg evilly now, this was obviously what he regarded as a supreme test of seductive talent, "dos slods, dey don't eben maade so good wid each udder en der own species. Ya understant wad I mean?"

"I'd understand better if you didn't try to hide your accent in that garble of yours." Lenny snapped these words out suddenly, despite herself she was becoming impatient with Louie's clumsy disguise.

A wide grin suddenly broke across Boss Carl's face.

"Dynamite!" he cheered, "you are one sharp chick, Lenny! And the job I got calls for relatively quick thinking – so you just racked up one more point – you were right on about the accent. What else can you tell us about? I mean, baby, what have you got Louie figured for by now?"

Lenny eyed the dumpy, balding foreigner for a moment then grinned. "I think he's French. That accent is just a cover up – so people will think he's a dumb dock worker or something like that. No. He doesn't even want people to think he's a dock worker – a dock worker could be smart, he could know something and could be working for somebody besides the union. He wants everybody to think he's a wino – that's why he keeps his apartment such a bloody Goddamned mess, and that's why he's got all those bottles strewn around. I'd bet a night's salary that he doesn't drink half of them."

Lyle Montagne smiled the smile that made him a star of the silver screen; he was growing to like this spunky, young woman more and more. "What would you say, Lenny, if I told you he doesn't drink any of them, at all?"

"I'd say you were lying," Lenny responded without hesitation, "because he has to have wine on his breath all the time – otherwise people would begin to wonder."

Boss Carl raised his eyes and nodded at Montagne.

"This," he said in a quiet voice, "is one helluva smart piece of snatch."

Lenny could not keep from smiling and blushing with pride – she sensed that that odd comment was extremely high praise from the gruff owner of the Phylogem Club.

"You are right, mon cherie, I am not a wino. I am Frensh as you have guesed. But now you sheel tell to me what you think I am doing foaire a profession."

"Well…" Lenny was perplexed for a moment, she almost wished that she had not been so presumptuous as to criticize his accent. "… I… I don't know, exactly…" she sensed that all eyes were on her. To fail to come up with something good at this crucial point might mean the loss of the lucrative position for which she was being so rigidly tested. Fortunately, she had a sudden and unexpected insight. "Wait! Of course, it all makes sense. You don't want anyone to think that you are even conscious half the time – that must be because you really are sharp – you must be a very important and intelligent man. Perhaps people would even recognize your name if they heard it. The dumb accent covers up an obviously extensive knowledge – maybe you have a specialty…"

The three men nodded and smiled at one another, very plainly impressed. Lenny glanced back at the sloth and thought of Louie's description of the animal. It had been casual and the grammar had been atrocious – but he seemed to know an uncommon lot about the rare creature. So that's it, she thought triumphantly, it all fits together when you think about it!

"I know," she cried out excitedly, "Louie is some kind of scientist – one that specializes in animals – what did you call it?"

"A zoologist," Lyle grinned in explanation, "that's it all right, baby. You hit the proverbial nail right on the head. Louie is an expert on all types and species of animals. He was, at one time, the world's most famous authority on the sexual behavior of the primitive mammal. For that reason, he has been hired by us."

"Us?" Lenny was somewhat doubtful.

"Yeah, chickie," Boss Carl grumbled, "us. But we'll explain all that later. Bein' quick on your feet ain't enough for this assignment. Ya gotta pass another test. A physical test."

Filled with new doubts about her ability to meet their requirements, Lenny turned once more to eye the sloth. "You want me to – to make love to that thing – uh – to Droopy?"

"More than that, baby," Boss Carl growled harshly, "this ain't no simple test – we know you can do that stuff, already. We want to see if you got real talent. Anybody can screw a sloth – hell, even that redheaded horsefucker, Audre, could get a rise out of Droopy here."

Lenny searched the faces of the three men, searching for a clue to the nature of the next test. It was becoming unbearably suspenseful for her. She knew that this was the final and most important of all the examinations she had gone through this would decide once and for all whether she would get the attractive and mysterious position.

"All right, Boss Carl," she murmured, "whatever it is, I'm ready and eager to get on with it. Tell me what you want me to do."

Louie took her by the arm and led her toward the dias.

"Leesten," the balding Frenchman purred softly, "mon petite choux I wan' you to do whataiver come eento yoaire mind – thees test eet ees foair to see what you can do on yoaire own. We will gif to you a numbair of animols ant you weel do wid them veary interesting things, no?"

Lenny simply nodded. She would try her best.

The fat and dirty zoologist clapped his hands together three times. The harem girls moved again in graceful, dancelike efficiency.

Two of the lovely and scantily attired women brought on a cage containing several monkeys. These little animals squealed and scampered about their cages with restless energy.

Another of the harem girls produced a large, white goat on the end of a tether, which she attached to a golden post in the center of the stage.

Still another beauty sauntered provocatively out onto the dais with a young pony. This lovely little animal had blue ribbons decorating its long mane.

Lenny was somewhat startled to see the tall woman, who was the leader of the harem, marching in stately solemnity onto the dais – with a huge boa constrictor wrapped about her body. This woman was truly a gorgeous specimen of the female of the human species. She had long black hair that flowed down her back almost to the waist. Her skin was of a dark hue, almost that of the gypsies, her black eyes flashed fire at Lenny – expressing a kind of professional jealousy and a challenge at the same time. This rare beauty was testing her also!

All of the harem girls, with the exception of the dark and exotic leader, sprang gracefully from the stage and assembled around the base in a semi-circle.

They sat cross-legged, in the lotus position. Their arms were crossed and their faces blank of all expression. They too, were waiting to be impressed.

The leader of the harem girls stood, with her legs spread wide, at center stage. It was almost as though she were daring Lenny to usurp her position there.

Lenny almost panicked. Was she expected to throw that remarkable gypsy-woman from the stage by sheer physical force?

Lyle stepped up beside Lenny and Louie.

"This," he said in soft, introductory tones, "is Lenora, the leader of the harem. She will assist you in your performance. You are fortunate, Miss Morgan, for she is the very best in the business…"

Lenny tossed her long blonde hair back over her shoulder and nodded to the striking, dark-skinned woman. She thought of asking Lyle why this gorgeous creature had not been chosen for the "assignment", as Boss Carl called it, but Lenny thought better of it, it would not do to ask unnecessary questions at this point. Her main concern now was simply to pass the peculiar test that had been arranged for her.

Louie, with some of the French gentleman still in him despite his guttersnipe clothes, helped Lenny up onto the dais. Then the men settled on cushions and lit up a pipe, which they passed around among themselves. The sweet smell that wafted up on the stage told Lenny that it was marijuana.

"Good luck, my lovely blonde friend," Lenora whispered to the anxious Lenny, "you are going to need it."

"My – my name is Lenora too," Lenny whispered by way of an introduction, "but my friends all call me Lenny."

The dark woman managed a cold smile, "perhaps the name will give you luck," she said in a distant voice, "it is a name that carries a great deal of respect around here – see if you can earn it."

Then Lenora clapped her hands and music began to fill the room. All fights seemed to darken as if by magic. Only the dais itself was bathed in a soft red light. Lenny could barely make out the men who sat before her in the audience chamber. They were mere shadows that were difficult to see in the glare of the lighting that shone directly into her eyes.

Lenora stepped back in rhythm to the pulsing music, she was obviously going to offer advice – she was waiting for Lenny to take over the exotic ritual.

For a moment, Lenny stood in the center of the stage – staring out into the darkness. She was filled with self-doubt and fear. For this brief interval, she genuinely wished that she had not answered the tempting advertisement. Right at this point, she wished desperately that she were back on the stage of some dingy discotheque – tearing her clothes off for the leering customers.

Then she felt her old confidence return. Why the hell shouldn't she be able to do this? Her body was better than any woman's in the city – she could dance – she was not afraid to perform exciting acts with the animals – not with any of them would she have fears. Except, she thought with an involuntary shudder, perhaps with that ugly and slimy snake!

"Shitsakes!" she said out loud, resolving to overcome even that hurdle. "I'm ready."

She stared out into the darkness, she could not make out her audience of men and harem girls now – they were obscured by a rising cloud of marijuana smoke. It created eerie patterns in the red spotlights. Jumping high in the air and performing a graceful turn, Lenny faced the monkey cage first of all.

Somebody, somewhere, turned up the volume of the music system. The tune was strangely unfamiliar – it was oriental and vaguely atonal. But she had no trouble picking out the syncopated drive of the drums.

With an exaggerated motion of her hips, the young dancer moved determinedly toward the monkey cage. She began to caress it, stroking the bars teasingly – as though they themselves were phalli that might rise and begin to throb with passionate desire.

As she danced, Lenny began to warm up to the project; she was becoming excited by the music and the sensually intoxicating environment. She pressed her hips against the cage, rubbing her loins against it.

The monkeys were frightened at first by this intrusion; they huddled in the far corner of the cage and became entirely silent. Their faces were almost human now, expressing a kind of concern and even disapproval of the peculiar goings-on.

By this time, Lenny had a pretty good idea of the nature of her test. She had to excite each of these strange animals in turn, and perform a sexual act with them. By this method, she would be sure to fire even the coldest member of the audience to absolute orgasm by the completion of the extensive performance.

Now she began to remove her clothes – it occurred to her that if she could perform in a mini-skirt and blouse – it would be nothing to excel in the erotic dances later on, when she could expect a costume of the sensual proportions of the harem outfits.

She first slipped out of her shoes, holding each one aloft as though it were an offering to some God of sexual excess. Then she cast them into the audience – heedless of where they might fall – heedless of ever recovering them again. Lenny Morgan was abandoning herself completely to the provocative rhythms of the music.

Now she ripped each stocking right down her leg with a graceful sweeping of her long-nailed hands. The bare flesh gleamed through the nylon like smooth red plastic.

She moved her hips toward the audience, tearing the stockings even more, so that the bare flesh was forced to the fore – no longer resembling plastic – the bared legs looked like an image from someone's wet dream. Pulsing red flesh, coursing with boiling hot blood.

She twirled primly away from the audience then, and bent to undo her garters. She knew that it was more arousing to tease them somewhat at first. They did not have to see her unfasten the stockings – they had only to see her cheeks bulging sensually beneath the tight panties.

Now the stockings fell away from her legs, floating like ribbons to the floor. She leapt high into the lights, spreading her legs into a ballet-leap that sent the tattered ribbons of the stockings flowing like banners from her feet. She felt like the winged Mercury, soaring weightlessly through space.

When the gorgeous dancer landed again on the plush red cushions of the dais, she bent to pull one stocking free of her lovely foot. She turned toward the monkey cage, allowing her graceful motions to become more strident. Now she was the image of the siren; the determined destructive seductress.

Her hand brought the stocking out before her face at arm's length – she kissed it and then let her arm fall in a stiff arc to her crotch. She shoved the stocking under her skirt and rubbed it into her cunt; forcing the nylon down into her panties until it showed only as a visible bulge between her legs, under the skirt.

Then Lenny turned again to face the audience. She had the mysterious smile on her face that was always there when she abandoned herself to the sexual dance. It was like some exotic and lovely bird, prancing through a mating ritual. The energy of her performance was directed unmistakably to a consummation in sexual activity.

With a scream of delight and triumph, Lenny reached suddenly under the pleat of her skirt and pulled the stocking out into the open. She waved it around in the air and kissed it repeatedly.

Lenny now moved to the very edge of the dias and peered meaningfully out at the dark forms that were Boss Carl and his two associates. She grinned coarsely and kissed the stocking once again.

"Lucky…" she began in a sing-song whisper, "… lucky, lucky, lucky stocking…" her voice rose, "Stocking! I love you for the place you have been! I love you for the lips that you have brought my kiss…" then lower, "lovely, lucky stockings… smell of my desire… smell of my desire…"

Lenny whirled and moved to the monkey cage. She opened it and stood for a moment with the stocking in her hand. She ran it quickly down between her legs again, rubbing it against her crotch vigorously. Then, she handed the stocking remnant into the monkey cage. A monkey stared at it for a second, then took it and sniffed it eagerly. The little animal smelled desire in the sheer folds of nylon. He began to screech and squeal. He bounced around excitedly, holding the stocking up for his fellows to see.

They all agitated and yelped, passing the scented nylon from one tiny hand to the other.

Meanwhile, Lenny had removed still the other stocking and rubbed it generously into the flowing juices of her hot cunt. She kissed this stocking in the same manner and handed it to the monkeys.

They were transported by monkey-passion. They leapt from their cage and swarmed excitedly around the strange woman who tempted them so.

The voluptuous blonde dancer reached down and picked up one of the monkeys, picked him up as a woman might hold a baby to her breast for nursing. The lively little creature prodded and probed with his tiny hands at her blouse, searching for her breasts.

Another of the monkeys leapt high in the air, perching for a moment on Lenny's left hand, which extended out from under the nursing monkey's bottom. With a screech of joy, the second monkey hooked his tail around her wrist and swung nimbly down. He suspended himself from her arm at the level of her crotch. Eagerly, the little fellow clawed at the skirt in a vain attempt to reach under it and get at the source of the delicious sex-scent.

The music was reaching a kind of a crescendo now. Lenny laughed aloud and pulled at the front of her skirt with the hand from which the second monkey hung – as she brought her hand up with the edge of the mini-skirt gripped tightly between her slender fingers, the little animal managed to get his hand underneath the clothes and begin to probe and pull at the elastic waistband of the panties.

Light laughter rose in the darkened audience – for, each time the monkey managed to pull the waistband away from her body, it snapped back into place with a definite "thwap"! The poor primate was completely frustrated in his ambitions, and he began to cry in a high, eunuchoid voice.

Smiling benevolently, Lenny reached kindly down and pulled the waistband open with her other hand, holding the nursing monkey to her bosom with her elbows.

The crotch-hungry rhesus finally managed to get his head in under the elastic waistband, where he chewed and lapped at the abundant woman-juices.

The two other monkeys were beginning to feel left out. They had tired of playing with the stockings and now turned to each other for fulfillment. In an amazing show of cooperation, the two little lemurs pulled energetically at each other's tiny penises. The infinitesimal organs grew stiff and hard, like stout red nipples.

The same reaction could be seen on the part of the rhesus' member. It poked out between his legs where he hung, growing to a full length of perhaps an inch and a half. He sang for monkey-joy as he nibbled at Lenny's cunt. Then, quite suddenly, he came in a chorus of screeches and cries. He locked both of his arms around her leg and held on in a tight enraptured embrace, spilling a tiny trickle of come down over her lovely knee.

Lenny saw the little animal climax and lowered him gently to the ground, where he sat heavily on his bottom and tried to catch his breath.

Lenny now turned her attention to the monkey, also a rhesus, cradled in her arms. He had managed to get into her blouse by unbuttoning a couple of buttons with his tiny hand, now he was kissing and nibbling at the breasts with great enthusiasm. She took him to the edge of the dais and set him down on his back, placating him by stroking his belly gently.

With an elaborate and gracefully smooth gesture, Lenny reached down under her skirt and snuggled her fingers up into her gaping, wet cuntmouth. She played with her fingers there for a while, simultaneously rubbing the little creature's tummy with her free hand.

Then, she pulled her hand from her well of desire and touched it gently to the monkey's face. He clutched at it and began to lap and kiss the fingers furiously. With a cry of delight, Lenny reached down along the little fellow's belly and began to stroke his penis.

It stood fully erect, she was able to grasp it between her thumb and index finger and rub it vigorously. The monkey shivered and trembled with excitement, clutching even more tightly to the scented fingers in front of his face.

With a chortling cry of release, the small creature expelled a spurting of sperm. His whole body tensed and thrashed momentarily, then he curled up and went to sleep.

Lenny began to dance around the masturbating lemurs now; kissing and licking the monkey's come from her delicate fingers. In a short while, they too came and crawled back to their cage, exhausted.

With tenderness, Lenny picked each of the rhesus monkeys up and placed them back into the cage, closing the door carefully behind them.

Now she went on with her stripping. First, peeling the blouse slowly from her breasts – just as the nipples came into view – she whirled away from the audience. She knelt facing the rear of the dais and pulled the open blouse down over the soft, smooth flesh of her shoulders.

With a subtle gesture, Lenny beckoned the dark gypsy girl to come to her. Doing as Lenny instructed her, the harem leader knelt before the blonde woman and kissed each breast reverently, then she helped Lenny slip the blouse down over the shoulders and off the smooth-skinned body. That garment was given to the bearded white goat – which proceeded to eat at it voraciously.

Lenny eyed the harem woman carefully, calculatingly. Then she commanded: "Kiss me, kiss my neck and back and shoulders! Excite those bastards out there!"

The gypsy grinned, her dark eyes flashed with a new fire – it was obvious now to Lenny that this girl liked any and all kinds of sex.

She caressed Lenny with genuine passion, kissing the soft sensitive areas of her neck with a skill born of much experience. Her fingers traced repeated lines along Lenny's curvaceous flanks.

"Kiss my shoulders, gypsy!" Lenny commanded in a voice that rose high above the pulsating music. "Motherfuck it, you gorgeous gypsy whore! I want you to really turn me on!"

The gypsy girl was fired by the almost angry demands; she accelerated her motions – still keeping a rhythm with the music. Her busy lips were doing a kind of double-time now, nibbling and brushing boldly at the incredibly perfect flesh that adorned the well-built body of Lenny Morgan.

Her dark hair caressed the fascinating flanks while she tongued the flesh just behind the jutting breasts. Lenny began to rock back and forth on her haunches, excited beyond her wildest dreams by the attentions of this striking black-haired beauty.

Boss Carl shuffled in his seat; he was fighting against his own growing excitement. In his mind, this was a deadly serious business. He could not yield his passions to anything but the most irresistible assault.

Lyle Montagne turned his face toward Boss Carl for a moment. The expression on his handsome face was one of rapidly disappearing self-control. His tan had faded beneath an excited flush and beads of sweat broke out on the furrows of his brow.

"Carl," Lyle said with a strained voice, "I… I think she's got something. A… a real quality…"

"I dig," Boss Carl snarled, desperately trying to maintain control of his violently aroused system. "I sure as all hell dig what you say, but, man, we got to be sure. Let's see what she does with the rest of the menagerie."

Lyle shifted again in his seat. As his eyes swung back to the stage he caught his breath. The dark-skinned harem woman was stripping off her halter, revealing breasts almost as fantastic as Lenny's. She was fondling them ravishingly as she kissed and nibbled at the bared torso of Lenny Morgan.

Lyle Montagne, man of the world, famous actor, and connoisseur of erotica – Lyle Montagne had to admit to himself that he had never seen such a beautiful pair of women in his entire lifetime. And more! Those two exquisite women were performing with an abandon that just could not be found anywhere else in the world.

"Carl," he said in hushed, awed tones, "Carl, if it gets any better… if it even stays as good as it has gone so far… well… so help me… I'm going to come in my pants."

"I hope so," Carl snorted, "because if we don't all come in our collective pants, then Lenny Morgan is a dead girl."

CHAPTER FIVE

As Lenora worked enthusiastically along Lenny's gently sloping flanks, kissing and caressing and brushing burning nerve ends with her cool, wet lips – as she did these things, she whispered a secret into Lenny's ear.

"You – you beautiful cocksucking creature – you're doing great – but please, please don't let up – you've got to make them go out of their minds or they'll have you killed. Believe me, Lenny, I know what's happening. It's too important… I love you… it's too important to them to let anyone out of here who knows what you know about Louie and… and things…"

Lenny didn't care. She knew what she wanted. She would not be content until she had completed a sensual extravaganza that could never be duplicated in a thousand years. She wanted to take the throne of erotica. She had to. Not because of the threat of death from Boss Carl, but because of a wild compulsion within herself. She tossed her lovely long mane of blonde hair and stood quickly.

"We don't have time to talk," she hissed under her breath as she took Lenora into her arms. "We only have time to love!" Then Lenny kissed the gypsy girl hungrily on the lips, letting her tongue dive and search into the other girl's soft, wet mouth. There was a taste of clover in the harem leader's lips – the taste of the ancient natural lust.

They stood there on the stage for a moment, embracing and kissing. Working their tongues deeply and ferociously into one another, while their restless hands fondled and probed at the exquisite bodies.

Then Lenny pulled away. She commanded Lenora to undress completely. The gypsy girl went into an agile, violent dance – whirling like a dervish. She was spinning so fast that her features became a recurring blur – clothes and filmy garments scattered on all sides.

"Feel yourself, gypsy!" Lenny cried.

The gorgeously shaped dark-skinned woman began to probe at her open, spilling cunt with avaricious fingers. She closed her eyes and stood swaying back and forth in a transport of passion.

"Stay there till I need you!" Lenny shouted triumphantly. Then she began to dance about the white goat; teasingly thrusting her hips at the creature, shooting lightly under his belly to kiss his long and wicked looking prong.

Her eyes opened, Lenora was so excited by the vision of the blonde dancer beginning to seduce the goat that she cried out in ecstasy. Her thighs shone with the woman fluids that had run down from her burning vulva.

"Now!" Lenny cried. "Now, Lenora! Strip me! Take my clothes off! Take my skirt off! Take my panties off and kiss my lower lips!"

Leaping to action, Lenora swung her dark body down to its knees before the swaying figure of Lenny Morgan. The gypsy girl kissed the soft swelling of Lenny's tummy, tonguing the navel lovingly as the dark fingers worked to unhook the fastener of the mini-skirt.

The skirt fell away with a floating motion; quickly Lenny kicked the garment aside.

"The panties!" she cried out to the swarthy, dusky Lenora, "Pull down my little panties and kiss my cunt, and kiss it, and kiss it!"

The harem leader did as instructed. Tenderly her fingers caught the edge of the elastic waistband and lifted it over her swelling hips of the blonde dancer. She pulled the panties down over the commanding thighs and over the knees – and finally the panties were completely free of the luscious body of Lenny Morgan.

Lenora hugged the panties to her full, red lips and kissed them fervently. "I love you!" the gypsy cried out, "I adore you! I worship you! You are so beautiful!"

But Lenny had new orders for this exotic woman. Just as Lenora's passionate lips touched Lenny's furry treasure, Lenny barked out a command.

"The goat!" she screamed out, "caress the goat! Jerk and pull and kiss his big, ugly cock!"

Without a second's hesitation, the dark-skinned woman sprang under the goat's belly and began to work his cock in her fingers. She saw it swell and grow stiffer – she grasped it firmly in one hand and inserted it in her voluptuous mouth. With all the passion and energy of a thousand centuries of lusting gypsies, Lenora devoured the beast's randy cock. She worked her head up and down on its length, trying to drive it deeper and deeper into her mouth.

As she did this, Lenny sidled up to the goat's head. The animal was bleating and shuffling its excitement. It raised its muzzle and sniffed at the secreting vulva that was so suddenly thrust into its face. It lunged the bared head at the cleft. It sniffed and lapped – and then it began to eat at the pubic hairs.

As it pulled the hairs roughly out, Lenny let out a mournful cry of passion. Clutching the ram by the horns, the sensual blonde pressed its head deep into her crotch.

In the audience, harem girls were tumbling together now. Taken completely by the wondrous sights before their eyes, the lovely young women began to grope frankly for one another. Hands searching tentatively into wet cunt mouths, then driving more boldly, more frankly. Women began to moan and cry out together in passion. One girl was lying prone on her belly between another's legs, sucking and kissing at the open lips of a red-haired vulva.

Boss Carl let his trench coat fall open. He did not move his hand toward the prick that swelled upright between his thighs. He was not convinced yet.

The goat came in a torrent of white geysers. Lenora took each into her mouth and swallowed. Her eyes were glazed with the fire of desire.

Lenny felt the change in the animal and pushed him away, for she did not want anything that was not red hot.

In the corner, Lenny spied the sluggish boa constrictor that Lenora had deposited. She sprang toward it like a fiend of passion. With a great swooping of her arms, the blonde caught the immense snake and lifted it as though in offering.

She was too aroused now to have any fear of this thick and powerful snake. She carried it over her head to the edge of the dais and stood facing the audience with a triumphant leer on her dazzling features.

Beads of sweat glistened on her brow as she lowered the monstrous reptile to the plush red cushions.

She began to stroke the beast, caressing it as though it were a gigantic phallus, as though she hoped the entire eight feet of boa constrictor would become stiff and hard in readiness for love-making.

The snake stared blankly up at her – it did not mind being caressed.

With a gurgle of desire, Lenny Morgan grasped the flat head of the reptile and began to move it slowly toward the open lips of her cunt. The beast began to flick its tongue out, searching for bearings in this most unusual situation.

"Good grief!" mumbled Lyle Montagne, unable to control himself any longer. "Oh sweet cunt, what is she doing?" He could not believe his eyes as he saw the long red tongue of the enormous reptile flick up into Lenny's waiting cunt. She was moaning and thrusting her hips at every questing flick of the knife-like tongue.

Even Lenora, the passion-flower of the gypsies, stared in awe and disbelief as the head of the beast disappeared into Lenny's open mouth of womanhood. The snake's entire head was now searching deep into the dark, wet world of the blonde dancer's cunt!

But the eyes that watched with aroused awe were not only human. The giant sloth, which now hung suspended from the harness at the left center of the dias, also watched with unusual interest. Indeed, the lethargic Droopy had never seen anything like this. He craned his neck so, from the inverted position which he always preferred, that the sailor hat slid from his head. His large, baleful eyes blinked in absolute bewilderment.

Beneath the flap of his bell-bottomed sailor trousers, a faint bulge could be detected; a faint bulge that was rapidly growing.

Lenny, with the great reptile's head still probing about her womb, noticed Droopy's interest. A flush of pride filled her chest. She was on the verge of victory! If she could only arouse this slothful beast, she would be safe – and rich – and famous!

Slowly, tantalizingly, Lenny extracted the snake's head from her vulva. The eyes, perpetually open, contracted in the sudden light – the tongue still flicked and searched round the lips of the vagina.

"Mmmmm," Lenny crooned, "Yum, yum, yummmmmm!" With that, she began to slowly push the snake's head back up into her wet, soft vulva. Gradually, the flicking red tongue disappeared from sight.

Then the huge, flat head of the boa constrictor – then several inches of the stout neck.

Boss Carl shifted in his seat. It was becoming almost impossible for him to control himself. Beside the heavy-built baron of the underworld, Lyle Montagne had already wet his trousers with hot come. Louie, usually the very soul of discretion, was struggling desperately with himself to keep from leaping discourteously onto the harem girls.

Lenny finally removed the sluggish boa from her womb and turned toward the now aroused sloth.

Indeed, Droopy had so roused himself that the twitching and shifting of his massive body might have led one to believe that he was going to forsake his inverted position and shuffle clumsily across the floor to Lenny.

But such a forward gesture was unnecessary. Still moving in rhythm to the music, Lenny advanced on the slow creature with the gestures of a consummate vamp. She began to stroke the soft fur beneath Droopy's chin. He moaned and grunted with the sloth equivalent of passion. The bulge beneath the button flap of his blue sailor trousers threatened now to rip clear through the material, exposing the giant erection to the inflamed air of the stage.

"Lovely little Droopy…"

Droopy moaned and reached out tentatively with a massive paw.

Lenny bent over the great animal and began to hurriedly unbutton the flap of his trousers. There were thirteen buttons, in her haste and desire the blonde dancer ripped four of them completely from the material.

The monstrous cock bounced free of restraint at last. Even the cavorting harem girls had to gasp at its size. With a screech of joy, Lenny took the entire instrument into her mouth and sucked on it vigorously. The slurping was audible even in the very back of the hall – her passion was so great by this time.

Droopy too, was transported by a rare stirring of sexual desire. He whoosed and whoofed and thrust his heavy rear section up at Lenny's mouth.

Having absorbed all these sensations so deeply, the young blonde woman was on the thrilling verge of a thundering climax. She could wait no more! She leapt astride the great beast as he hung upside down on the harness. Wrapping her long and shapely legs around the beast's midriff, she was able to settle her open cunt down onto the huge organ. It was a tight fit that stretched the walls of her sensitive vagina almost painfully wide – but the twinges raced down her nerves the center of her joy.

An immense passion contorted her face as she felt the huge weapon pierce her very quickly. She opened her mouth to scream, but could only gasp in ecstatic delight. Never had so much male meat gone so far into her well of womanhood.

Droopy, the giant sloth, was also impressed.

The feeling of Lenny's cunt walls pressing so tightly against his flaming cock must have kindled an ancient fire. For with the sudden burst of shuddering and sloth-groanings, the immense beasts shot geysers of hot sperm up into the woman's receptacle.

Together, the two lovers sang out the agony and the joy of their climax.

Boss Carl could hold himself no longer, and a spurting of sticky white sperm rained down unmercifully on his open trench coat.

Immediately after his orgasm, Droopy the giant sloth fell sound asleep, hanging limply from the harness in his customary inverted position.

CHAPTER SIX

Lenny Morgan went to the dressing room to clean up after her triumph. For it had been a triumph after all, no one else could have passed that test so well, she thought to herself proudly. Well, she reconsidered, perhaps that dark-skinned gypsy girl, Lenora, she was pretty extraordinary. It was not common that Lenny felt strong sexual urges toward other women. Lenora, the marvelous harem leader, was a brilliant exception. Her dusky flesh with its smooth, blemish-free glow, and her unbelievable sexual appetite, those things combined to arouse both desire and respect in Lenny's usually cautious soul.

Nevertheless, the two women made no advances to each other. Though they bathed together in the gold-gilt tub, neither had the energy to do much more than smile wanly and assist each other in the bathing.

As Lenny rubbed the soap into a lather on Lenora's gently curving flanks, she wondered why Boss Carl hadn't chosen this extraordinary vixen as his star. A certain uneasiness crept into her heart, then. Perhaps there was something more to the role she was going to be asked to play than money and stardom. With a shudder she realized that the task cut out for her might simply be too dangerous to risk the favorite harem girl's safety.

Lenora noticed Lenny's sudden agitation.

"What's the matter doll?" the gypsy woman asked.

"I-I'm sort of wondering now, wondering what he has in mind for me."

"Boss Carl?"

"Yes. It seems sort of frightening now that I've passed the tests. I mean, Lenora, why were the tests so hard? What is it that I have to do?"

Lenora shook her head solemnly. "I don't know baby," she mumbled pensively, "but it must be something mighty big, because if you hadn't passed his test, he was planning to have you, uh, executed."

Lenny Morgan was trembling as she rose from the tub and took a plush towel from the attendant.

Louie entered the bathing area from a side door.

"Hey, leetle sexy one," he called out, "you must come quick, the boss, he wants to see you."

Lenny nodded and tried to pull herself together. It was the sort of fear one has shortly after a near miss on the highway. She had felt almost no fear at all while going through the final test, but now that it was over, she could barely keep from falling in a helpless, trembling heap.

After she had slipped into a sheer robe, Louie ushered her into the basement offices. These were even more plush and important looking than the offices in the Phylogem Club. Lenny stared about her in awe.

The desk was a huge L-shaped affair. It seemed to be made of teakwood polished to a deep glowing brown, almost black. On the short side of the "L" were tiers of telephones, intercoms, and what looked like radio transmitters and receivers. On the long side of the "L" was the usual desk with a velvet blotter, a gold pen set, and a small model of some sort of complicated machine.

To the young and voluptuous blonde, it was like standing in the private office of the President of the United States of America.

Seated in a power-operated swivel chair, Boss Carl wore a clean trench coat and smoked serenely on a thick cigar. The putrid smoke from this cigar wafted towards Lenny as she was given a chair directly in front of the elaborate desk. The odor made her faintly nauseous.

Louie closed the door behind him very carefully, as though he was afraid that someone might try to eavesdrop on their conversation.

For a long moment, Boss Carl sat and stared coldly at the young blonde dancer. Then a huge, happy smile creased his thick, pallid face.

"Baby," he said in genuine respect, "you are really some cookie. I think we're gonna be able to do business."

Despite her previous trepidations, Lenny Morgan was truly flattered at this praise. She had already come to realize that Boss Carl did not throw laurels around carelessly.

"I…" she could barely speak through her still trembling lips, "I'm real glad that you liked my work, but, well, Mr. Boss Carl, I don't really understand what you want me to do. To be really honest with you, I'm getting a bit worried that I may be in over my depth."

Boss Carl laughed his hideous hyena laugh. "Don't sweat it, chickie. You gonna do just fine. The tests were tough because the job is tough. I won't lie to ya about that, but you came through with flying colors and there's no reason why you can't do just as well when the real thing comes up."

"What real thing?"

Boss Carl threw a meaningful glance in Lyle Montagne's direction. Lyle cleared his throat and began to explain the situation in his clear, actor's voice.

"Well, Lenny," he proceeded, "it's a pretty complicated thing to explain. But you have a right to know all the facts before you begin your assignment."

"Assignment?" Lenny interrupted suddenly, "What am I supposed to be? Some kind of a spy or something?"

"Well," Lyle was trying to make his tones as comforting as possible, "in a way that's precisely what you're going to be. You see this machine model here?"

Lenny nodded and stared at the strange device in confusion.

"That machine is called a Xylotrope. It was invented by Masters McClain, president of Xylotropic Industries Incorporated. It is beginning to present a real danger to our vested interests."

Lenny crossed her soft thighs under the sheer dressing robe, "I don't get it, Mr. Montagne."

"You may as well call me Lyle," he said with a twinkle in his eye.

"All right, Lyle," she went on, "but I don't understand what I have to do with this Xenoschalmic industries thing or whatever the hell it is, and I don't see what that stupid little machine has to do with anything."

Lyle chuckled condescendingly, "Of course you don't just right now." He straightened his wide tie and explained, "This little machine is called the Xylotrope, as I said. Its function is sexual. The people at Xylotropic Industries have spent years developing it."

"Fiendish little device," Louie interrupted heatedly, "thees foul leetle sonofabeetch!"

"Yes, well, as you can see," Lyle continued, "we are rather upset by this whole business. You may not know it, but Carl Industries Incorporated, of which the three of us here are the controlling stockholders; Carl Industries Incorporated does the vast bulk of its gross business in the erotic entertainment line. Of course, we have other enterprises that net us a great deal of profit; movies, television, records etc. But far and away the most important product we have to sell is the exclusive and exotic entertainment such as you have seen in the Phylogem Club. It is Masters McClain's plan to crush Boss Carl and his entire company by introducing a machine that will replace the usual performers in this field. Do you follow me so far?"

Lenny nodded weakly. It seemed quite far-fetched to her, but men like Lyle Montagne and Boss Carl did not fool around very much.

"This machine," Lyle pointed now to the model of the Xylotrope on Boss Carl's ornate desk, "this machine is designed to replace the male organ as a stimulant of female sexual excitement."

At this point, Boss Carl picked the small model up and flipped a switch. A distinct whirring noise was accompanied by movement of various parts. Looking closer, Lenny saw that these parts were covered by a soft, rubber-like coating. The main moving part was a large instrument shaped like a plunger, this sinister looking thing moved up and down and in small circles, simultaneously.

Beneath the plunger, there was a soft base that vibrated extremely rapidly. As the machine whirred busily away, Lenny noticed that a lubricating fluid was secreted from invisible pores in the rubberized surfaces.

"This diabolical little contrivance is designed in such a way that all surfaces of the female genitalia are massaged simultaneously. It is, supposedly, guaranteed to produce orgasm in any woman in a matter of mere seconds."

"That's all very interesting," Lenny protested, "but I still don't see where I fit in."

"Look, baby," Boss Carl's gruff voice brought things down to the basic issue at hand, "it's simple. If he starts introducing these machines into clubs and private homes – as he has every intention of doing – it will drive us right out of business. Worse than that, the bastard is planning a device for males that will perform a similarly hideous function. His aim is to drive natural eroticism – women balling women – women balling animals and stuff like that – right out of business. If everybody has one of these things, why, screwing a bull will seem like old hat."

"It becomes, ultimately a great deal more important than just an issue of Xylotropic Industries versus Carl Industries." Lyle Montagne's voice was grave and solemn, his brow was furled in concentration, "You see, Lenny dear, if these things become household items, why normal sex life will be destroyed forever. No mortal can compete with such an ungodly machine. In order to preserve the human race, we will have to initiate sperm bank programs in every city in the entire world! It would be downright inhuman! Downright monstrous!"

Lenny stared at the three concerned men with a gaping mouth and blank expression. She barely believed what she was hearing.

"But," she asked, "why would anybody want to invent such a terrible machine?"

"Thaire aire two reesons, ma cherie," Louie spoke up now, "first, it is common knowledge that thees Meester McClain, he has a vairy beeg grudge against our friend, Boss Carl. They haf been enemies – how do you say it – almost from the days of thaire births."

Lenny nodded. It would not be hard to see how a man like Boss Carl might make some bitter enemies.

"And fairthermore, my leetle cabbage, thees Xylotropic Industries, eet controls the market and research into sperm bank operation. Eeef our not-so-good friend, Meester McClain, someday controls the sexual activities of the whole world, well surely you can see thait he weel be able to control who is born and who is not, he weel control the whole earth. Eeef he does not like babies with black hair, he simply doesn't allow any babies with black hair to be born. It is most distressing."

Lenny gazed at them for a moment, trying to weigh the full impact of their words in her mind. It was a frightening concept, there could be no doubt about that.

"But where do I fit into all of this? I'd be glad to help you."

"The fact is…" Lyle took up the conversation, "that there is nothing legal that we can do to stop the production of this fiendish machine. We've tried everything, lawyers, doctors, unions, even the CIA. There is only one way left to stop him."

"You…" a horrid thought flashed across Lenny's overburdened mind, "you mean, you're going to kill him?" The beautiful young woman's eyes were as big and round as saucers.

Boss Carl's thunderous laugh echoed in the small office like a caged tiger roaring triumph over its kill. "Of course not, dumb chickie," he tried to control his terrifying mirth long enough to cough out the words, "we thought of that long ago, but it simply wouldn't work. Oh, there's no question that I could put out a contract on his life. I could have him killed quietly and without any suspicion, but the work on the Xylotrope would still go on without him. Someone else, someone just as bad as McClain would take over the operation, that's all."

"But what then?" Lenny could not make any sense out of this conversation at all. Surely, she thought to herself in consternation, surely these men were powerful enough to crush such dangerous opposition.

Boss Carl stood and flipped a switch on the short side of the "L" of his desk. "You see, Lenny baby, we thought of everything. We couldn't get anywhere by killing him so we considered blowing up his whole plant. You know, industrial sabotage. But that would be sure to bring the law down on our necks, and we would either go to jail or make full reparations, or probably both. No, that wasn't any good either. It's a sad fact that the authorities watch every move Carl Industries makes. They watch us like damn buzzards!" To punctuate this last remark, Boss Carl brought his fist down violently on the desk. Lenny was amazed that he did not hurt his hand. It seemed that this peculiar man was made of iron.

"So," he went on, "what to do? We thought and thought and argued and reargued. Finally, my pretty little slash, we came up with a brilliant plan."

Leaning forward eagerly, Lenny asked, "Plan? What was it?"

"Simple, chickie," Boss Carl gloated, "the whole basis of McClain's plan was the sensational appeal of his product, right? Nobody could resist total stimulation. Nobody could resist instant orgasm. Well, I got to thinking one day, and I came up with an idea. You see, most of my work has been in the erotic field, and I got some pretty good ideas about what excites people and what doesn't."

As he spoke, Boss Carl began to pace rapidly up and down behind his desk.

"The trick is this… the idea of an instant orgasm might catch on real good, especially if everybody thinks his neighbor's got one. Nobody wants to think that his next door neighbor has more orgasms than he does, but if the idea doesn't catch on right away, then it'll fall down dead. It's my belief, and you have to realize that I'm what they call a humanist, that women and men would rather have exotic sex than efficient sex. Excitement, as you well know Lenny, is not just in the genitals, it's in the mind. That's where you come in."

Lenny stared at the big, burly man with a dazed expression. What was in store for her now? she wondered.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The headquarters of Xylotopic Industries was a large and lavish office building in the other end of the city. Lenny journeyed there in a cab. Her assignment was clear – and yet the theme of the advertisement that attracted her interest was one placed by Masters McClain. It read: "AN EXOTIC DANCER WANTED, FOR PROMOTION OF SENSATIONAL NEW PRODUCT, APPLY AT XYLOTROPIC INDUSTRIES INC."

As the cab swerved and jounced through the jungles of lights and traffic, Lenny thought back to Boss Carl's stern instructions. He had said that she must get this job, the chance to model the first market version of the Xylotrope.

"But," Boss Carl had thundered triumphantly, "when the time comes, you are going to put on a very different show than they expect from you."

It had taken Lenny Morgan quite awhile to understand the strange and complicated assignment that Boss Carl had given her. Now, riding inexorably toward the towering buildings that housed the Xylotropic Industries, she was totally committed. She hoped desperately that she had every detail straight in her mind.

The luscious blonde was ushered into a large and expensively furnished waiting room. Here she sat for several minutes and read the fashion magazines that she had found on the glass coffee table.

A short, fat man in a blue blazer energetically bounced through the door and announced that Mister McClain was ready to see her.

"Thank you." Lenny tried to sound as deferential as possible.

She followed the little fat man into the large office of the executive president of Xylotropic Industries.

This office was somehow less impressive than that of Boss Carl. There was something overly mechanical in the furnishings and decor.

The lights were made of bare metal rods and frames that extended from the wall like insectoidal appendages. The desk itself was constructed from some kind of aluminum alloy, and the entire large piece of furniture did not appear to weigh more than twenty pounds.

As though to demonstrate this fact, Masters McClain placed one ring-covered hand beneath the desk and lifted it easily from the floor.

"Another one of our marvelous inventions," he bragged in eunuchoid tones, "it's so light that a seven year old child can carry it around with complete ease."

Masters McClain was a short fellow with pale, fleshy features. He had, however, none of the hard, animal-like musculature of Boss Carl. His general appearance was that of a sexually underdeveloped stock-accountant.

Nevertheless, Lenny knew for a fact that the peculiar and somewhat repulsive man that sat before her was one of the most powerful and avaricious businessmen in the world. His company, Xylotropic Industries, had interests in business from electric toothbrush equipment to sperm bank research.

That was where Lenny came into his life.

She knew that she had to convince this odd fellow that she alone was capable of introducing the fiendish little Xylotrope machine. He must not fail to leave the room convinced that Lenny Morgan – and Lenny Morgan alone – could sell the male sex substitutor with the sensational appeal that would be needed.

She settled back into a soft chair and spread her lovely thighs. Her mini skirt snuggled up higher on her legs, giving the businessman a clear view up into the blonde thatch in her soft crotch.

"Well, Miss Morgan," Masters McClain began the interview in a high, cold voice, "I suppose that you are here in response to my advertisement."

"That's right, Mister McClain," Lenny answered seductively, "I'm very interested in modeling any new products you might have."

"Yes," the fat man allowed himself another peek up under the blonde dancer's dress. "Yes, I suppose you are. But the point is, I need someone very special to model a very special product. I have to be very certain of your qualifications."

Lenny stood abruptly and ripped open her blouse. The magnificent and flawless breasts fell free. She stood there in haughty silence for several moments, her legs spread wide and her hands on her hips.

"Harumph," Masters McClain coughed nervously. The truth of the matter was that this famous and wealthy man was not very comfortable in the presence of good-looking women. "Yes. Harumph! Harumph! I… I, uh see that you have the obvious qualifications necessary. But tell me, Miss Morgan, how much performing have you done?"

She strode commandingly to his aluminum desk and stared sternly down at him. "I've done enough. I've always been applauded, wherever I went." Her smile was sensually meaningful.

Its significance did not escape the short executive.

"Perhaps," he began tentatively, "perhaps we should arrange some kind of an audition."

"An audition?" Lenny raised her eyebrows innocently, "whatever do you mean, Mr. McClain?"

The tiny man laughed sinisterly. "Imenlo!" he called through his intercom, "Imenlo! Come in here at once!"

The man who appeared in the doorway seemed only half-human. He was extremely large, perhaps seven feet tall, and his body rippled with over developed muscles.

"Miss Morgan," McClain introduced the strange man to her, "this is my associate, Imenlo. He specializes in this sort of activity." In point of fact, Lenny thought that this last statement was probably true. But she honestly wondered if this strange new guy on the scene would speak to her or merely grunt and scratch at his underarms.

In truth, Imenlo did neither. He looked at the young blonde woman for several minutes, then began to undress himself hastily.

"Just a fucking minute!" protested the hesitant Lenny. "I usually get paid for my services."

"Of course," Masters McClain bent over his and produced an ornate looking checkbook, "I'll be glad to write you a check, my dear Miss Morgan. How much do you require?"

"Six-hundred dollars."

Masters scratched out that amount on the check with his pen and then handed the small green paper to Lenny. On the check, she was surprised to see a replica of the tiny sex machine that she had previously seen in Boss Carl's office. It was the Xylotrope!

She paused only for a second, then deposited the check in her handbag. With great poise and grace, Lenny Morgan turned to the beastly figure of Imenlo.

The brute grinned and made a low guttural sound in his throat, "Guh, guh, guhrooveee!"

"Yes, quite so Imenlo, quite groovy." Masters McClain lit a long, thin cigar and leaned back in his swivel chair. "If you don't mind, Miss Morgan, I would like to watch."

She merely nodded and looked appraisingly at the figure of Imenlo. As this huge fellow began to undress, he exposed a body almost completely covered with hair. It brought back to her fond memories of the affair with the gorilla.

Lenny slipped her blouse off from her shoulders and unfastened her skirt, which fell gently to the carpeted floor. She turned toward the evil grinning figure of McClain and began a most lascivious dance.

Her hips thrust vigorously out toward the small man, who ogled and puffed at the pencil-thin cigar. Lenny knew that this little bastard was the one she must please. Poor old Imenlo was no more than a tool in his master's hands.

Of course, she realized with a shudder, if things went well for Xylotropic Industries, all of us might be helpless tools in the hands of this little eunuch.

By this time lovely Lenny was clad in nothing but her black lace panties, which she always wore on occasions of this sort. With a wiggling of her full and desirable hips, the blonde beauty managed to work the filmy underpants down over her knees. She began to moan and croon most seductively as she did this.

Poor old Imenlo was going out of his mind. He pawed and thrashed at his clothing, ripping them off as though they were no more than mere encumbrance. When finally an absolutely naked creature, he sprang toward Lenny with lust in his eyes.

She held him off and scolded him like one might scold a disobedient child.

"No, not yet you big bastard, be patient." Lenny caressed her smooth and curvaceous body with temptingly familiar hands. "I'm beautiful, don't you think so, Imenlo?"

Imenlo grunted enthusiastically in reply.

"Do you like my breasts?" she asked, cradling the two beautiful fruits in her hands.

Imenlo nodded and scratched at his chest with a huge, hairy hand. Lenny expected this ugly brute of a man to start thumping on his breast and shouting out the cry of the jungle any minute. Nevertheless, she went on dutifully with her performance.

"Now, Imenlo, you be a good boy and I'll show you something else."

Imenlo backed up against the wall and tried to control the compulsive twitchings of his hairy torso. He wanted this woman in the worst way, yet he found it delightful to allow her to tempt him and order him around.

"A good boy would get down on his knees to a lovely girl like me." Lenny's voice was low and sensuous.

She moved her delicate fingers down from the jutting breasts to the swelling of her tummy.

"Wouldn't you like to nibble on my tummy?" she asked in a hoarse moan.

"Unnnn," Imenlo found it almost completely impossible to control himself now. His wide eyes watched with fascination as the woman's fingers slid down from her navel to the soft cleft between her thighs. "Unnnn," he grunted, "unnn, yaaaa."

Lenny smiled sweetly as she sped to her task; her skillful fingers spread the wetting lips of her cunt. She leaned back and swung her body in a slow circle, so that both men in the room would have a chance to see her pubic beauties.

"You look like such a nice man, Imenlo," she purred, "wouldn't you like to kiss me here?"

The hirsute ogre charged her then, driving his full length of cock up into her cunt simultaneously with his, knocking her forcibly from her feet. Lenny grunted as the huge shaft sunk into her, she had no time to think, it all happened much too fast.

Masters McClain sat on his swivel chair, rocking back and forth and puffing energetically on the skinny cigar. His lips cracked into a peculiar, somewhat unpleasant smile.

Just as Lenny felt the huge organ smashing up into her for a third time, she saw Imenlo's face freeze into a pallid contortion. He was coming.

His climax was sudden and violent. It was over as quickly as it had begun. The beast had serviced her and promptly fell asleep on top of her.

She struggled to get out from under him. Finally, she succeeded in pulling herself from under the hairy mound.

Mister McClain was staring at her with an odd, superior smile on his thin lips.

"Really, now, Miss Morgan," he chided, "wasn't that a rather unpleasant and sordid experience?"

She looked back at the hirsute form that was now supine on the carpeted floor of the office. The monstrous Imenlo was now sound asleep. It seemed unlikely to Lenny that anyone would be able to awaken him for hours.

"Yes," she said pointedly, "I suppose it was."

"Well," it was obvious that Masters McClain was going to go into an extended apostrophe of the blessings of his newest love machine. "In that case, and if we may be so presumptuous as to say that what is the case with Lenny Morgan is probably even more the case with the average woman, that it is plain to us that a woman in the modern world does not get the satisfaction that she deserves. Not, that is, from her sexual counterpart in the human species. It is to alleviate this exact situation that we at Xylotropic Industries have invented the machine that I'm about to show you."

He produced the Xylotrope with a stately gesture. The machine – in full size and splendor – was as repulsive looking to Lenny as it had been when Boss Carl showed her his working model.

"My, my," she lied, "what an exciting looking gadget!"

McClain smiled proudly and went into a dissertation on its advantages. "This is our pride and joy, the Xylotrope. It is a sexual device, designed to fit the stimulatory needs of the female genitalia. With proper instruction in its use, even the most frigid of women may achieve orgasm in a matter of seconds."

"My goodness," Lenny commented coyly, "in just a matter of seconds?"

McClain cast a gloating look in her direction. Then he pressed a lever on the aluminum desk. His chair descended and allowed him to walk around the desk to the center of the room. With a start, Lenny realized that the man was practically a midget. Apparently the mechanical swivel chair was designed particularly to jack him up so that he appeared to be of normal stature when he was seated behind the desk.

Masters McClain was bragging unashamedly now, he kicked unkindly at the snoring inert bulk that was Imenlo.

"The fact of the matter is, Miss Morgan, that this machine, if properly distributed, could revolutionize the feminine approach to sexuality. This kind of boor," he kicked out even harder at the oblivious body of Imenlo, "this revolting phenomenon we call masculinity, would become entirely obsolete."

The little man whirled to stare fanatically up at Lenny.

"I can guarantee that the pleasure received from my little machine is powers above that that any mere man can give to a woman. These little fuckers will sell like hot cakes."

Lenny trembled with disgust at the entire concept, but she forced herself to lie as Boss Carl had directed. "I'm sure they will, Mister McClain."

"You may call me Masters," he said with an offhand wave of his tiny, fat hand. "The problem, however, is promotion. For years now, people like that sonofabitch Boss Carl have been selling sexuality in all its grotesque forms. Sex with animals, sex with other women, even sex with men! Distasteful as hell, don't you agree?"

"Uh, yes, of course, I mean, disgusting."

"Good. I'm glad that you are a sensible girl and you can see the frailties in the entire psychosexual system that bastards like Boss Carl have imposed upon us. Your job…"

"Yes?"

"Your job, Miss Morgan, will be to sell this idea to some of the most important people in the country. I am coming out with a male equivalent of the Xylotrope very shortly. So, we won't have to worry about boys becoming jealous of girls. No, our problem is to convince people that the basic concept of sex within the animal world is not only disgusting, it's also inefficient!"

Lenny trembled with disgust. She thought that this was quite possibly the most horrid man that she had ever met.

Masters reached out and punched a button on the desk.

"I'm going to call up now and arrange another audition for you. If you can succeed in this one, I think you've got the job."

Lenny stared at him in disbelief. When were these infernal tests going to cease?

Lenny nodded and stood staring at this truly unusual gentleman. She was overawed by his poise and sophisticated manner.

"Mr. Cubbings is one of our true believers," McClain went on cheerfully, "he will operate the controls on the Xylotrope used in our world premiere demonstration. Of course, you understand, we will be using a model that is a great deal more advanced than the type that will ultimately be distributed. However, that is to be taken for granted in the business practices of the modern world. The housewives will be quite satisfied with their more economical counterparts, eh?"

Lenny grinned, so even in this kind of insane plot, the twistings and turnings of the devious businessman remained the same. They were not going to demonstrate the model that would actually be sold! She made a mental note to pass this information along to her boss.

The sophisticated Cubbings ordered a couple of men in uniforms of the Xylotropic company to bring in a control panel and a larger, more complicated version of the machine Lenny had seen several times before.

It was somewhat more delectable in appearance, made into a rather life-like mock-up of the human male genitalia. Lenny gasped to see the size of the plunger device. It was a good foot and a half long!

"There's nothing to fear, my little dove," Cubbings comforted, "the disk computer has already been programmed to compensate for any discrepancies in size of the vaginal opening and the plunger device. There is no danger of… how should I put it… of physical damage due to overuse."

"That's good." Lenny managed through trembling lips.

"At any rate, I suggest we begin immediately," the little man strode to help the workmen unpack the machinery.

In a matter of moments the entire set-up was arranged properly. McClain invited the workmen to remain and watch.

"We may as well," he whined, "get Miss Morgan used to an audience."

Cubbings sat on a small stool connected to the control panel. He smiled encouragingly at Lenny and turned a dial to the on position.

She had been instructed to place the machine between her thighs, but not up into her cunt. She was of course, completely naked.

"There is no place for stripping here," McClain had said, self-righteously.

The machine was beginning to vibrate now, it whirred and ground and even seemed to glow slightly from the pulsing current which flowed through it.

"You will have to familiarize yourself completely with the instrument, of course, Miss Morgan. The demonstration will show you some of some of its fine points."

"Of course," she replied with terror in her heart.

The machine in her hand began to secrete its lubricating fluid.

"Begin to play with it, now," Cubbings instructed as he twiddled the dials on the control panel.

"How do you want me to play with it?"

McClain let out a hideous laugh that was not unlike the cackle of Boss Carl. "My dear," he said, "you must enjoy some foreplay. It would be too unnatural if you didn't, eh?"

With a rising nausea in the pit of her stomach, Lenny fondled the monstrous plunger. To her surprise, it grew stiffer and longer at her touch.

"Good," commented Cubbings at the controls.

Oddly, Lenny began to feel a growing affection for the weird little device in her hands. She caressed the phallic plunger more vigorously, ruggedly pulling at its tip, then slapping it around a bit to test its malleability.

"Very good, my darling," interjected the suave Cubbings. His hands were moving along the control panel very quickly, now.

With an impulse, Lenny took the plunger into her mouth and began to suck on it. The device stirred between her lips, selling up to full size and then diminishing slightly, only to swell up once again. With a shudder that was not totally unpleasant, Lenny realized that this machine was throbbing like a gigantic cock.

"Ummmmm," she moaned.

"Great!" exclaimed Cubbings at the controls.

Lenny let the thing reach far down into her throat, and then she pulled back a little way and began to rotate her lips on the head of the plunger. The tiny slit in the end of the contrivance secreted a trickle of warm fluid. It tasted very sugary. To her surprise, Lenny found that she liked it very much.

"Yum."

"What?" McClain had taken out a note pad. Apparently he was keeping a record of her reactions to the machine.

"Yum," she replied, "it tastes so good!"

"Oh, yes, quite so." McClain remained quite dispassionate. He directly transcribed Lenny's every word into the notebook. A record for the company files.

Cubbings, however, was not so dispassionate. He bounced up and down on his stool. Caressing and twiddling the dials as though they were objects of love. He began to rock back and forth on the stool now, moving in a kind of simulated intercourse. Obviously, the man enjoyed his work immensely.

Lenny saw little of this; she found her eyes closing in mounting passion. Between her legs, the familiar hot feeling was boiling up. She could feel her woman juices trickling down the insides of her creamy white thighs.

With a cry of passionate delight, the curvaceous blonde began to kiss the plunger feverishly. Running her hungry mouth up and down its full length. The pores of the plunger secreted the same sugary fluid; she lapped in greedy joy.

"Yummmmm," she moaned, "Yummmmmm."

"What now?" queried the business-like McClain, "what is your exact sensation, please?"

"The taste," she purred happily, "it tastes so good."

"Maple syrup," said McClain coldly. "A special innovation of my own."

Lenny lapped and kissed and sucked on the device for several more moments. Then she began to run her hand along the rubberized base. To her shock, the flat disk of material responded to her touch with an increased vibration and a sudden oozing of the same sweet syrups.

"Groovy," she cried, "what a fantastic thing!"

"Yes!" shouted Cubbings, now almost totally out of control behind the instrument panel. "Yes! You're wonderful Miss Morgan!"

"Can I have it in me now?" she whispered desperately.

"Well," McClain seemed rather reluctant. He surveyed the smooth glistening flesh of Lenny's shapely body. She had fallen backwards onto the lush carpeting and was beginning to move the device down toward her open, famished cunt. "First, why don't you let the machine give you a little foreplay?"

"How?" she cried out desperately.

"Yes!" screamed Cubbings, who was now bouncing up and down on his stool most vigorously.

"Simply by letting it massage and titillate your body, my dear." McClain was still quite calm and scientific, jotting every word, every motion down into his pad.

Lenny held the machine against her breasts. At first, she was unable to produce anything like a satisfactory result. But after a moment's experimentation, she found that by packing it tightly between her large and well-shaped breasts, with the plunger rocking vigorously up and down her cleavage, and the base of the machine throbbing against her rigid nipples, in this manner, she received the most exciting sensation she'd had in a long time.

"Aiheee!" cried Cubbings, gripping the edge of the control panel tightly with his white knuckles. "Don't stop!"

"Ummmmm," Lenny crooned to the Xylotrope, "don't stop!"

And the machine, of course, did not stop. Instead it sensed the excited heart beat in the lovely breast, the glistening sweat that beaded out all over Lenny's body. This information was fed back into the computer and transposed into heightened activity on the part of the plunger device.

The two workmen, who were seated in the far corner, became so excited that wet stains appeared on their trousers at this point in the audition.

"More, more!" screeched Lenny in her desire.

"Arghhh!" screamed one of the workman as his sperm burst like gunshots from the end of his excited prick.

"Not so fast," mumbled the irate McClain, as he scrawled furiously on the pages of his notebook.

Zipping along furiously enough itself, the Xylotrope began to bounce the magnificent mammaries up and down violently on Lenny's chest. She smiled and parted her lips slightly, letting a drop of passion-fevered saliva escape from the corner of her mouth.

"Probe!" screamed Cubbings, turning a dial all the way up on the control panel. "Probe into your hot little box with it! The machine wants your cunt, give it some!"

"Oh!" Lenny felt as though the machine itself had wrenched from the lovely breasts and forged on down toward the open vagina. "Yes, please do it! Do it!"

Machines obey mankind, thought Cubbings, as he saw the plunger begin to peck at the wide-open blonde cunt of the exotic dancer. He twisted another dial. He thought to himself that he hoped the research on the male component would speed up some. He was tired of vicarious pleasure. The gentlemanly Cubbings had a real hunger for action.

The Xylotrope was homing in on the throbbing clitoris now – that mysterious little knob that brings all pleasure to womankind. It massaged lightly at first, lubricating its efforts with the maple syrup solution.

"Ummmm," crooned the lovely Lenny, "do me, do me more!"

The workmen, who had already experienced orgasm, now became aroused again. If they had not been checked by the presence of their boss, they both would have leapt from their corner and torn the avaricious machine away from the full, sensuous body. They would have replaced the drilling Xylotropic plunger with their own devices.

"Screw her!" cheered one. The other looked at his companion blankly for a moment and then turned back to gaze at the remarkable event before his eyes. He too felt the energy of the spectacle flowing into his veins. He too began to cheer and encourage the mysterious little mayhem machine.

"Yeah, Xylotrope!" they roared enthusiastically, "go big plunger, put it to her!"

Lenny was oblivious to their cries. She was only aware of that huge, hot rubberized plunger that probed so enticingly with her clit. Electric twinges of passion shot up through her loins. It was fantastic!

"Come on! Come on!" she screamed desperately.

With a mechanical lunge, the plunger drove up into Lenny's cunt, searching deeper and deeper into her with every thrust.

She spread her thighs and groped eagerly at the small device between her legs. "Bliss! I see bliss!" she cried joyfully.

"Hmmm," grumbled the cold McClain as he noted this on his pad. "Very unusual."

But Cubbings and the workmen were more enthusiastic observers. The workmen had taken out their prongs and began to pull industriously at them. Their faces were bright red and their eyes were riveted on the scene that was unfolding in front of them.

Cubbings was thrashing his arms about over the control panel like a concert pianist. But his vocal administrations resembled nothing like a reserved, classical musician.

"Screw her! Plug her! Put it home! It's gorgeous!" it was difficult to tell whether his shouting was prompted by his speech impediment or by the excitement he was intensely experiencing.

"Make me come, machine!" Lenny commanded deliciously, "Make me come!"

Cubbings reached out for a switch. He flicked with colossal energy, then hunched over the control panel, watching Lenny's reactions with greedy, gleaming eyes.

The peculiar talents of the Xylotrope enabled it to give vibrant pleasure to the lips of the vagina simultaneously with stimulation of the clitoris and deep penetration. That was the nature of the features designed by the devious Masters McClain himself. "Go! Go! Go!" Lenny roared as the maximum pitch of the Xylotropic screw was reached.

"Good, baby!" Cubbings was crouched over the control panel now like a tiger ready to spring. His entire body was focused on the tiny point of Lenny's clitoris. He was almost experiencing the sensation of enjoying her with his own rigid cock.

The workmen collapsed in completely satisfied exhaustion. They had been treated to the show of their lives.

"Damn you! Make me come!" Despite its super-technical prowess, the machine did not seem to be able to force the lovely blonde over the brink of climax.

"Shit!" muttered the disturbed McClain. He wondered if something might have gone wrong with the machine or with the girl, or perhaps with both. This might, he thought, prove to be a serious development.

But Lenny, despite her desperate need for the release of cordial orgasm, remembered the orders of Boss Carl. No matter what her own personal reaction might be, she was to pretend to reach an incredible and complete climax at the appropriate moment.

One thing was certain – she wanted it. She wanted it more than she had ever wanted it in her life. But she began to wonder if this damn little machine would be able to give it to her.

Cubbings strained over the edge of the control panel. He too, was experiencing difficulties. He had been triggered to the peak of excitement primarily by Lenny's reaction to the love machine itself. Now, he was feeling cheated. He did not want to come until she too had climaxed violently and spontaneously before his eyes.

"Hurry!" he shouted.

"Hurry, hurry!" screamed Lenny desperately.

"Hmmmmm," McClain shook his head despondently. This was not quite the reaction he had hoped for.

Lenny cast a desperate eye about the room. They were all watching her. With the exception of the slumbering workmen of course. She knew that she must do something fast!

With a sudden writhing of her perfect body, the blonde woman on the strange little sex machine rammed the plunger up into her womb – the entire foot and a half of plunger throbbed with mechanical delight. Lenny's face turned white, and her mouth contorted into a wide cavern.

Cubbings marveled at the beauty of this woman. Even in the throes of sexual agony she managed to remain pretty, yes, that was it, she was the prettiest woman he had ever seen. Even at the moment of climax.

Lenny screamed as loudly as she could. To her, it was a scream of anguish, for it was obvious to her now that the machine could not completely fulfill her needs. But to the eagerly waiting Cubbings and McClain, the scream was the pronouncement of their ultimate success.

"Aihhheeee!" Lenny cried out.

She screwed her open, needful cunt down onto the machine with horrendous energy.

Cubbings came all over the control board. His hot come splattered across the dials and flashing red lights.

His head fell in happy exhaustion.

He was too pooped by his experience to take account of the dials. If he had, he would have seen that the dial marked "Orgasm Meter" remained completely motionless.

Lenny was a quick thinker; she could feel nothing new in her hot, wet vulva. That meant that she had not fooled the Xylotrope itself. It continued to pump at her energetically, holding back its release of the artificial sperm until the moment its computer system told it that Lenny was climaxing.

McClain was decorated by a broad, gloating smile. But he was watching her with a renewed doubt. True, she showed every outward sign of climax, but he sensed that something was missing. In the extravagant pride he had experienced at her first screams of fulfillment, he had lost track of the sense-data he had been so carefully noting down.

Now he turned his eyes toward the control board. Perhaps, he thought quickly, perhaps I had better check the dials myself. One could never be too careful in this business.

Lenny saw his move. A surge of deep fear flushed through her body. She remembered that Boss Carl had threatened to kill her if she did not pass his final test. If the stakes were that high, she reasoned desperately, wouldn't Masters McClain do me in if he suspected treachery?

Of course he would.

She turned completely pale. All of her sexual excitement seemed suddenly conquered by that most human of emotions – fear. A horrid shudder drove through her body to the very core. For an instant, her heart stopped beating completely, then it raced madly ahead in terror.

The omnipresent computer read this data as it was transmitted back through the Xylotrope. A whirring of gears and gauges commenced immediately.

It did not take long for the result to be determined.

Within a hundredth of a second of her physical reaction, the dials on the control panel registered their verdict.

With a rough gesture, Masters McClain shoved the limp body of the exhausted Cubbings aside. He peered intently at the meters.

First, he noted in his book the exact time that the red warning light appeared on the center panel. Then he read and transcribed the readings on the heartbeat graph, on body temperature, and on probable blood pressure.

Finally, his eyes turned to the meter marked "Orgasm Meter."

A lewd smile crossed his face as he saw the direction in which the indicator pointed. He had designed it himself to read either: NO ORGASM. PARTIAL ORGASM. COMPLETE ORGASM. Or, SUPER ORGASM.

Aha, he thought to himself with an evil surge of triumph, computers do not lie!

CHAPTER EIGHT

As most men of science would tell us, the computer cannot lie. Of this fact, Masters McClain was completely sure as he hulked over the control panel.

What he had perhaps forgotten in his desire to flatter his own ego, is the other simple truth about the computer.

Like most machines designed by men to do tasks that were originally performed by men, the computer is capable of only one truly human feat. That feat is the performance of the mistake. It is significant that some scientists and their machines are prone to make these two mistakes simultaneously. Such was the case with McClain and his control panel.

The Orgasm Meter had interpreted the fear-stimuli as being orgasm-stimuli.

Thus, as he bent over the control board, Masters McClain saw that the needle of the Orgasm Meter pointed to the category: SUPER ORGASM.

Busily, McClain noted all the pertinent data into his little book. The stoppage of the heart for an instant, the increased heartbeat after resumption, everything!

Both, he and his machine, had been completely fooled.

The quick-thinking Lenny Morgan, however, was a bit more difficult to trick. She had watched with horror as McClain craned his tiny body over the control panel. She had expected to be found out and exposed for what she was – a spy from Carl Industries Incorporated.

But the sudden, exciting release of the hot syrup solution into her cunt gave her all the data she needed. The machine was as truly stupid as it was unsatisfying, she mused proudly to herself. It had given itself away by a simulated male orgasm.

With a disguised disgust, Lenny let the device fall to the carpet. The insides of her thighs still glistened in the dim light with the juices of her intense desire.

"Yummm, umm," she moaned falsely, "that was the most beautiful thing in the whole world, Mr. McClain."

McClain whirled toward her, suddenly saying, "Like to do it again, baby?"

Lenny was taken aback, did this man still suspect something? Then she saw him consulting the back pages of his little notebook. Of course, she said to herself, that's all it is. He obviously had planned out a set of questions to ask her in advance.

What would the proper response be? she wondered, letting her hands slid down the smooth, desirable flesh of her shapely thighs.

"I sure would," she replied reverently, "sometime, but right now," she fell back in a fake swoon, "right now, I'm just too pooped. That little bugger really works a girl over."

"Wonderful!" McClain was overjoyed, "that's just wonderful Lenny, you've got the job. Report to my office tomorrow at seven o'clock."

"In the morning?"

McClain smiled indulgently, "No, of course not, I know you love a little night-life. Seven in the evening will be just fine."

With that the small man beckoned to the workmen who proceeded to wheel the machine from the small, padded room. In a moment, Lenny lay alone on the carpeted floor. Only the exhausted Cubbings was in the room, and he was sprawled out on the carpeting in a dead sleep.

Lenny cursed her luck. She was still red-hot from the stirrings of that diabolical plunger in her snatch. What she needed right now was a man.

She stood and began to look around for some clothes. There were none. All of her clothes had been taken away by the workmen, whom the fussy Masters McClain had instructed to clean the place thoroughly before they left.

"Bastards," Lenny cursed violently and kicked at the wall.

Cubbings rose reservedly from his place of sleep.

"Pardon me, Miss Morgan, but…"

Lenny turned to him quickly, she was startled, having thought him completely dead to the world.

"Uh, nothing is wrong, really, but I don't have any clothes here. The workmen seem to have taken them away."

"Oh, of course, how stupid of them, my dear." Cubbings seemed to have more trouble with his voice control in this exhausted state. "Why don't I lend you my raincoat?" he blurted.

"Thanks, buddy," she said distantly.

Lenny took the raincoat and wrapped it around her shoulders. It was not the safest kind of attire for riding the city subways, but it would have to do.

"Thanks, buddy," she said distantly.

"Uh…" Cubbings seemed almost shy as he spoke to the blonde dancer, who had turned away to leave.

"What is it?" She was tired of these creeps, all of them with their stupid sex-machine. What she needed right now was some good old-fashioned flesh inside her. Something big and real!

"I just wanted to congratulate you on your performance, Miss Morgan!"

"Thanks a lot, it wasn't anything at all."

"No," Cubbings caught her by the arm. She could smell the freshly spilled sperm on his trousers. "Wait, please. I really mean it."

Lenny eyed this odd and sophisticated man in a new light; perhaps he wasn't so bad after all. At least he'd had some kind of normal reaction to the display of sexual excess.

"You really liked it, huh?" She felt a stirring in her loins; perhaps this man might be of use to her in her presently desperate position.

"Yes, yes, I did." His face was strained with emotion; he had a secret desire to enjoy this woman more directly. He harbored an unexpressed longing to be in closer sexual contact with this gorgeous blonde than simply handling the control board of the Xylotrope.

She leaned back against the padded wall, she shoved her hands deeply into the raincoat pockets, letting it slip open just wide enough to reveal her cleavage.

"I think you're a very nice man, Mr. Cubbings…"

"Do you really?" he bubbled with an almost childish excitement.

"You can knock off the fake speech impediment," she growled.

"Well," he looked furtively around the room, "can you keep a secret?"

"Yeah, I can keep a secret." She let the trench coat slip open a little further. One breast's round, red nipple was exposed.

"The truth of the matter is, I had a speech impediment like that. And it really was caused by a war injury, well, not an injury really. It was actually a case of shell shock. But, unbeknownst to the master – I mean Mr. McClain – I only have it around women, really."

"Yeah?" Lenny was somewhat interested in his story.

"Yes, Miss Morgan… you see, I've been frightfully scared of women ever since the war. I've covered it up as well as I possibly could by working with McClain, telling him that I found the normal sexual activities something of a bore and all."

"Ya know…" Lenny's voice was deep and seductive now, "it all depends on how normal ya gotta be."

"Yes, well, I can never control that speech impediment when I'm with women I find sexually attractive. In order to cover up the fact that it's caused by a sort of sexual embarrassment, I've adopted it as a regular speech pattern. You understand McClain feels secure with a lot of weird people around him. He doesn't like normal males very much, he says they remind him of animals."

"Don't like animals, eh?" Lenny made a mental note of this new and interesting facet of McClain's personality.

"No, I'm afraid he is not able to stomach nothing larger than a chipmunk. He becomes terribly upset if he goes to the zoo. Often the odor of a dog or cat will be enough to make him completely sick."

"Groovy," Lenny pushed her hands deeper into the slash pocket of the raincoat, allowing both breasts to be bared. "And, do you like animals, Mr. Cubbings?"

Cubbings blushed bright red.

"Yes, I should never admit it around here, but the fact is, I grew up with animals. Hunting and riding and all that sort of rot. I find them terribly beautiful and exciting."

It always pleased Lenny Morgan when she found herself gaining sexual control over a man. Particularly wealthy and powerful men like Cubbings.

She reached out and touched him lightly on the cheek.

"Do I remind you of an animal, Cubbie?"

With an embarrassed shuffling of his feet, the wealthy businessman admitted that he did think of her as resembling an animal.

"What animal do I remind you of, Cubbie?" she purred.

"Most of all, Miss Morgan, you remind me of a beautiful and powerful tigress."

"Why is that, lover?" she moved her body closer to his.

"Uh, it's because you are so very graceful and beautiful, and you, you seem so commandingly independent."

"Like that, huh?" one of her breasts brushed up against his expensive dress shirt.

"Oh! Oh, yes!" He raised his arms in a tentative gesture, half in desire to embrace her, half a kind of embarrassed shrugging.

"What would you do if you were locked into a padded cell with a beautiful tigress, Cubbie?" She shifted back against the wall, letting the raincoat slide down over her lovely white shoulders.

A new speech impediment seemed to beset the once suave and composed Cubbings, he stammered hopelessly for several seconds then reached out timidly and stroked the top of Lenny's right breast.

"How does that feel, lover?" she asked. "It… it feels wonderful," he managed. "Tell me exactly what it feels like to you," she demanded.

Instead of speaking, which was becoming more and more difficult for him with every passing second, he leaned forward and began to kiss her tenderly on the top of the breast.

His eager lips traced the gentle swelling of her bosom, searching for the exquisite and erect nipple. He found it. He took it into his mouth and ran his tongue lightly around the tip.

"Mmmmmm!" Lenny managed to moan, her need was at its peak already. There was one thing that she could say in behalf of the Xylotrope, it sure as hell got a girl excited for the real thing!

Almost in shame, Cubbings pulled his head back from her breast and turned away.

"I mustn't do this," he stammered, "it's quite all right for you, of course, I mean it being your profession and all."

"Don't you want me?" she asked, her voice throbbing with desirability.

"Damn!" he cursed, smacking his palm with a closed fist, "of course, of course, I want you more than anything. But you can't understand. I've spent years working with McClain to conquer this sick desire within me. It is too… too atavistic!"

"What do you mean," Lenny hushed, placing a hand lightly on his shoulder. "What do you mean, atavistic?"

"Oh, excuse me for using those words, you can understand that before the war I attended Oxford. I was really quite a scholar in those days."

"I'm sure you were, Cubbie. I bet you were just a fascinating man, too." She began to move closer to him now, touching the jutting breasts against his wide back. "I bet you played some sport too, you have such a good-looking body."

Cubbings fidgeted with his cuff links desperately.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I did. I was named the most valuable rugger in my senior year."

"What's that? Rugger?"

"Oh," he turned toward her smiling like a minister confronted by the devil in the body of the most gorgeous woman in all of Hades. "It's nothing really. Just a game, sort of like your American football."

Lenny placed a finger against his cheek, "I just knew that you were a football player, you're so rugged under all that gentleman baloney!"

The touch of her passionate flesh seemed to Cubbings to burn his skin. He glanced about him nervously. There was, of course, no one in the room, but the two of them.

He could do nothing, say nothing. His breast heaved with the mounting passion that he did not have a chance in the world of controlling.

"Tell me, Cubbie darling," Lenny leaned against him with the full length of her voluptuous body, "What does atavistic mean?"

"It means primitive, and obsolete. It describes perfectly the insane emotions I'm experiencing right now. And if you do not desist in these advances, I shall…"

"What?" a strangely dominating smile formed on Lenny's lips. "What shall you do?"

Cubbings gasped as he felt the coolness of her delicate fingers slip under his shirt. He began to tremble with inner conflict.

"You didn't mind taking out your big manly thing when I was playing with the Xylotrope, Cubbie," she purred into his flaming ear, "why do you seem so shy now?"

"It's simply because this is an entirely different situation. I mean, we at…"

His voice faded away as she began to unbutton his shirtfront. Her fingers brushed gently against the guiltily quivering flesh of his stomach.

"I think you must be a fantastic man in bed, lover," she murmured, "isn't it just a crying shame that we don't have a real bed handy?"

"Please!" he cried out in a mixture of delight and anguish, "Please, what are you doing!"

"Don't you like me to caress you like this, Cubbie?"

Beads of hot sweat popped out on his forehead. He was trembling so violently now that he doubted that he would be able to stand much longer. His knees knocked together violently, the legs threatening to weaken and give way.

"Of course I like it! Hell, of course I do! That's the whole problem!"

"If you like it," Lenny reasoned sexily, "then, why not do it?"

"D-d-d-do what?"

Lenny let her fingers slide in under his belt, tickling the pubic hairs that had crept up from his crotch.

"Do?" she repeated his question with mock innocence.

"Do? Why do this, of course you silly thing, do what we are already beginning to do!"

"But we can't do that!"

Lenny undid the fasteners of his trouser-waist with masterful ease. This was her business. Men.

"You see, don't you Lenny?" He was desperately pleading with her now, Lenny had never known a man so reluctant to be seduced. In a peculiar way, it was a lot of fun. "It's not a question of what the lower animal in me wants to do!" he was almost screaming now, "It's a matter of remembering my duty to Xylotropic Industries Incorporated!"

"What duties?" Lenny snapped, pulling her hand out of his pant-top.

He stared at her in alarm. A horrible new thought struck him then, perhaps she would stop, perhaps his protests would make her disgusted and she would leave him alone with all those fiendish, unfeeling sex-machines!

"Why… why did you stop?" He was confused, his better judgment and training told him that he had wanted that to happen. He thought that he truly wanted her to give up on the attempted seduction. But the other part of him, in truth the stronger part of his manhood, that part was desperate that she should continue. Passion won in the end. "Please don't stop, Lenny! Please don't stop!"

Lenny grinned wickedly, "I'll keep going, I'll keep on touching you, if you tell me about your duty to Xylotronic Industries." She felt like a true "Mata Hari" now.

"All right, all right, but first, put your hand back in my pants."

Her cool, slender fingers reached into his trouser front once more. A beatific smile lit her face; she was in complete control of this strange man now… she would milk him for all the information she could get.

"The training we receive at Xylotropic Industries," he began hurriedly, as though she would leave him if he did not rush to tell her everything he knew about the strange manufacturing firm. "The training is designed to teach us that the animalistic sexual traits are becoming obsolete, that we must learn to separate our psychological need for sexual fulfillment and our biological desire to procreate. Making children through normal sexual relations is inefficient, and making love through the joining of two natural bodies is also atavistic. By that, we mean that it is unfulfilling for the most part – and therefore inefficient."

At this point, Lenny's fingers closed tightly around his stiff prick.

"Unfulfilling?" she asked accusingly. "Does that mean you want me to stop?"

"No…!"

"Then, why do you think it's unfulfilling to have a real woman pulling on your prick, instead of some crazy machine?"

"I… I don't really know."

"I know." She said shortly, kneeling suddenly before him and pulling his zipper down with a metallic squeal. Before he had time to react, she had taken the large prick into her cool wet mouth. She sucked vigorously, bobbing her head up and down its length.

Cubbings could only moan in ecstasy. In a matter of moments he had been converted back to the natural sexuality, the meeting of two warm, living bodies in the bliss of physical excitement.

"Mmmmm!" Lenny moaned, as she took his whole length into her sucking mouth.

"I know now!"

"Know what, Cubbie?" she asked, pulling her head away from his stiff and straining organ for an instant.

"I know now that everything he told me was a lie!" Cubbings shouted rapturously, "I know now that you can give me joy and pleasure that no machine could ever give me!"

As he uttered those excited words, Cubbings came into her willing mouth. Hot geyser spurts of semen which she swallowed with passionate enthusiasm.

His climax triggered hers, which blasted through her like a high wind. She fell back from him, grasping her cunt lips with one hand and forcing three fingers of the other up into the well of her desire.

"Hell!" Cubbings exclaimed, staring down at the white stuff still flowing sporadically from his prick.

"Ummm," moaned Lenny.

This, she thought, is the way it should be.

CHAPTER NINE

As they walked along the street toward Lenny's apartment, the Englishman questioned her further.

"The thing I don't understand, Lenny, is this…" he spoke in a soft voice, "why is it that I haven't been able to have a real thing with a woman since the war, then all of a sudden everything clicks with you?"

Lenny stopped and pulled his raincoat more tightly about her well-shaped body. He eyed the jutting of her indescribable breasts, beneath the stretched cloth.

"I think I have an idea about that, Cubbie," she replied.

"Oh?" he had begun to respect this woman of the streets a great deal more.

"Yes," she looked deeply into his gray eyes, "you told me that you used to have a lot of animals around, right?"

"I suppose so, yes, but that was when I was just a child."

"Never mind, lover, it's obvious to me that the difference between my kind of sex and the stuff that McClain is trying to pawn off on the world has a lot to do with animals. You see, the thing everyone seems to forget is that we're all basically animals. We aren't any different basically from the cattle in the fields or the tigers prowling about the jungles in hot pursuit of the opposite sex."

"I'm not so certain that I follow you," Cubbings said, staring at her with a blankness one sometimes finds in children asking questions about the size of the universe. Cubbings seemed strangely naive.

Lenny laughed gaily and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "I'll tell you all about it tomorrow. As it is, we'd both better get some rest if we're going to sell the Xylotrope to the world."

The sophisticated Cubbings nodded almost regretfully.

"Yes," he said in a low voice, "I suppose you're right, see you tomorrow night."

After the door was securely shut and bolted behind her, Lenny threw the raincoat off and fell full length on her couch. It seemed hysterically funny to her suddenly; the whole business of the Xylotrope seemed like some kind of hideous joke.

She sombered slightly when she thought of the zealous intensity with which McClain had jotted down his notations. He was obviously not a man to fool around with. She yawned and fell asleep for a few hours.

When she finally awoke, it was seven in the morning. Life was just beginning again on the streets outside her windows. She stood for some time on her balcony, staring down at the porters and cabbies who bustled by. In fifteen minutes or so the sidewalk began to fill with people rushing off to their early jobs. She grinned and turned back to her own apartment.

Lenny Morgan began her working day by taking a quick shower and dousing herself with expensive perfume. She was to meet Lenora at the dark girl's own apartment in the West Village.

That was a safety precaution, there was some chance that McClain might have Lenny followed. The Carl Industries people had decided it would be for the best if there were no direct contact between the blonde spy and her true employers.

At any rate, Lenny was somewhat excited at prospect of seeing the beautiful gypsy an again… alone.

***

Lenny knocked again anxiously. It was odd, but she was more worried about Lenora's safety than her own. Suppose something had happened to the gypsy woman? Suppose that the devious magnate, McClain, had made a connection between the two women and had come here to do her in?

The fears were allayed when Lenny heard a rustling behind the door.

"Who is it?" a sleepy and somewhat annoyed voice called out through the wooden paneling.

"It's me," the blonde answered eagerly, "it's me, Lenny."

"Oh!" the voice behind the door changed its tone suddenly. There was the sliding of a bolt from a lock and the great oaken door swung clumsily open.

"Good to see you," Lenora said in a husky, gypsy voice. "How'd everything go with the Xylotrope?"

"Fine, I guess," Lenny entered and looked about her to establish some bearings in the strange apartment. "One thing is for sure, that little machine of McClain's is a mighty weird piece of equipment."

"Yeah," Lenora had a peculiar look in her eyes, something that verged on jealousy. "Yeah, I would imagine so."

Lenny explained the events of the previous day as completely as she could, describing the weakness of Cubbings, the problematic nature of the machine, and the evil efficiency of Masters McClain.

"Good work," Lenora commented finally, "I bet you're pretty hungry after all that. Would you like some breakfast?"

Lenny eyed the dusky beauty carefully.

"Well," she purred, "to tell the truth, it's not so much food that I'm really hungry for."

A look of pleasure and understanding came into the gleaming black eyes of the glamorous gypsy woman. She smiled and let her house robe fall back over her smooth murky shoulders.

"Maybe," she murmured seductively, "you'd like to play with some of my pets."

The idea seemed refreshing and exciting after the time wasted at Xylotropic Industries. Lenny nodded her head in eager assent.

Lenora led the way to the bedroom. To Lenny's great surprise, the room contained no bed at all. Instead two huge double mattresses were piled upon the floor and covered with red silk sheets.

Around this exotic bed-place were placed several large cages. In these cages were animals that seemed even stranger and more exotic than those used in Boss Carl's exclusive basement club.

"I keep these babies for a kind of bus driver's holiday," the gypsy explained. "If you'd like, I'll introduce you around. Then, if you feel the urge, you can have your pick of the beasts."

"The Beauty and the Beast was always my favorite bedtime story," Lenny quipped good-naturedly.

Lenora smiled fetchingly as she introduced Lenny to the first cage. It was a gold-gilt affair with a large, ornate silver lock. Inside the cage was a large Koala bear, the cutest and most cuddly looking animal that Lenny had ever seen.

"Why," she exclaimed spontaneously, "he looks just like a teddy bear!"

"Yes, he's cute enough all right," Lenora agreed, "and more than that, we've got him trained so that he'll eat right out of your hand. Or anywhere else, for that matter."

They moved on to the next animal housing, which was a singularly tall and skinny cage. Lenny giggled with the exotic excitement of this menagerie-tour. She covered her eyes with her hands and said, "Don't tell me, lover, let me guess."

"Okay," the beautiful gypsy woman caught the mood of the game immediately. "I'll give you three guesses as to its nature. One clue, it's neither animal nor vegetable."

Lenny giggled delightedly and swung her hips as she approached the peculiar cage with hands tightly over her eyes. "I'll ask you first," she began seriously, "If it has fur."

Lenora, the dusky gypsy beauty, let her robe slip to the floor with a soft rustling sound. Something in that gentle sound stirred a new excitement in Lenny's groin.

"Nope," the gypsy girl crooned, "it sure doesn't have any fur."

"Would it remind me of something else, something very familiar to girls like us?"

The gypsy began to softly stroke her long, commanding thighs. The almost inaudible moanings led the lips of Lenny's blonde-furred vagina to smile open. The knob of her clitoris became inflamed with hot blood and she could feel it itch and cry out for attention.

"Yeah," Lenora replied cagily to Lenny's leading question, "yeah, I guess that it's a sort of familiar shape, anyway."

Lenny smiled and began to unbutton the cardigan sweater that she had donned for this morning's adventure.

"Okay gypsy love, tell me one last thing before I make my guess."

"Anything!" the woman's voice was hoarse and strained now. Even though her eyes were tightly shut and covered by her delicate hands, Lenny knew that Lenora was rubbing her palms in between her smooth, silky thighs.

"Okay, baby, is it an animal that I've met before somewhere? Or have I met one like it on real intimate terms?"

"That's two questions!"

"Have I met one like it before then?"

"Uhh, huh." The gypsy girl moans were less an indication of a positive response to Lenny's question than a command to her own fingers. It was as if Lenora were sighing, "Yes, yes, lovely little searching fingers, that is the right place to feel."

"Then I think I know what it is," Lenny chirped gaily as she pulled the sweater off from her back, "I think it's my old friend the boa constrictor."

"You're right!" cheered the dark-skinned gypsy, "you must get a prize for such a wonderfully good guess!"

"A prize! A prize!" exclaimed the happy Lenny, tossing her blonde hair back over her shoulders.

"What would you like, my lovely white beauty?" Lenora asked in a tense, hopeful voice.

Lenny grimaced in mock consternation as she tried to make up her mind. It was a joy to tease this most exotic of women. Lenny knew damn well what the gypsy wanted to give as a prize!

"I think," Lenny piped up finally, "I think that I would like you to help me take off my trousers."

The dark eyes blazed with passion inherited from centuries of wild-blooded gypsy lovers. Lenora bending down was a sight that made Lenny's young heart thrill. To have a woman who was so beautiful kneel before her was like being a queen of all women!

With smooth, rapid movements – Lenora undid the wide belt that supported Lenny's bell-bottomed trousers. A quick flick of the tanned wrist and the zipper flew down.

Lenny felt the expensive material of her pants rustling down her legs to the floor. It was exciting and new to her. In the course of her work the blonde girl had had occasion to make love to women, but she had never particularly enjoyed it before. Moreover, there was something wonderful in this ritualistic seduction. It was not just the beautiful body of the gypsy girl that Lenny loved, it was the whole tradition of her lusty ancestors, the whole race that had spawned this princess of sensuality!

"I wonder," Lenny teased the figure kneeling before her on the floor, "I wonder who is really getting the prize, you or me?"

The gypsy did not reply, instead she leaned forward and began to brush her lips along the inside of Lenny's smooth thighs. The flesh there was soft and sensitive, twinges of hot desire flashed up from every light touch of the dark lips.

"It is…" the gypsy woman murmured, "both our prizes, is it not?"

"Kiss me all over," commanded Lenny. The kissing increased in rhythm, as if driven by some ancient and foreign order. Lenny stared up at the ceiling above her, breathing rapidly and clutching at the long black hair that swung gently back and forth between her legs. Gripping the strands of hair more tightly Lenny forced Lenora's face in against her crotch.

"My panties," she breathed, "kiss my panties."

"I kiss them," the gypsy woman recited, "because they must be holy, residing so close to your sacred place, your beautiful treasure."

"Yummy," Lenny sniggered as the lips rubbed against her cleft. "That is a wonderful prize, Lenora."

Then, abruptly and playfully, Lenny pulled the woman's face away from the long, shapely legs.

"Enough," she said sternly, "I've been given my prize."

Lenora looked so crestfallen that Lenny had to bend down and plant a kiss fully on her ripe lips. She winked and said, "Don't worry, my lovely gypsy princess, there are more animals, more cages, more guesses, and more prizes."

Lenora smiled, flashing her brilliant white teeth.

"Yes," she said happily, "and now you must go on to the next cage and guess as to what rare pet I have there."

The young blonde strode a few steps further into the erotic room. She saw that the next cage was low and very large indeed. It seemed to be seven or eight feet long by five or six feet in height. She could not tell exactly how deep it was, as it was set at an angle toward her. A brocade curtain hung over the front of the cage.

"I will give you one clue about this cage and its animals. There are three of them, and they are asleep now. That is all I can tell you, you must guess the rest."

Lenny covered her eyes, once more and advanced on the large cage.

"I have three guesses, right?"

"That's right."

"My first guess is that they are furry animals."

"That's true. They are furry animals, and very much fun to play with." Lenora ran her fingertips down the gently slope of Lenny's flank. The sensation was intense, almost like being tickled.

"You mustn't get too fresh, little princess," Lenny cautioned, "you haven't won a prize yet."

Lenora bit the blonde dancer playfully on the small of the neck. Lenny winced and moved away with a little chuckle.

"If they're furry," Lenny hazarded, "then, they must have paws."

"Yes and no," the gypsy woman hedged.

"You have to say definitely."

"Yes," Lenora allowed that they might have paws. Her black eyes gleamed like devil's diamonds. She knew that she would be the one to get the prize this time.

"I have one more guess?"

Lenora touched her fingers to the flesh of Lenny's thigh. "Yes, my pretty one, you have one more guess before I claim my prize."

"I guess that they must have long tails."

Lenora nodded. "Yes, they have long, long tails."

"They're monkeys!" Lenny cried out triumphantly.

"No," Lenora's hand grasped a buttock and pinched heartily, "you're wrong, dummy!"

Lenny uncovered her eyes and watched as Lenora lifted the brocade covering from the front of the cage. Inside were three smiling raccoons, with their tiny hands and bushy tails. They stared out at the two beautiful women like lascivious little bandits.

"Look at their little black masks!" cried Lenny excitedly. "They're so cute and wise-looking."

There was something of the gypsy fortune teller in Lenora's eyes now. "Oh, yes, they are wise little animals. Legend among my people has it that they are the wisest of all God's creatures. They know the secrets of your innermost heart. As your guess was wrong, I am the one who gets the prize this time, am I not?"

Lenny smiled bashfully and nodded.

"Well," Lenora proceeded to strut proudly about the room, tossing her long black mane haughtily over her exquisitely shaped shoulders. "Well, well! So I am to receive the prize this time?"

"You deserve the prize, make it whatever you want it to be…"

"So! The prize!" The twinkle in Lenora's eye was a combination of good humor and passion. "The prize! I think for my prize I shall play with my pets!"

For an instant the fortunate gypsy stared malevolently at the shapely blonde woman.

Lenny felt her heart drop in dismay; even though the sight of the gypsy woman playing with her wanton beast would be exciting, it seemed disappointing that she herself would not be the object of desire. She lowered her eyes and frowned gruesomely.

"Ha!" Lenora spun commandingly in front of Lenny's slumping shoulders. "So you thing! You jealous thing! You fear to be left out of the gypsy games, is it not so?"

Shamefacedly, Lenny nodded.

"You will not be left out. Never fear. But you must do my bidding!"

A smile whipped across Lenny's full red lips, she nodded genially. "I promise that I'll do anything that you ask."

"Then open the cage and let my little pets out!" Lenora commanded sharply.

Lenny rushed to obey. She gasped in awe, as she swung the gate open. Its latch and hinges were made of handsomely carved ivory. This gypsy woman was surely as rich as a queen!

The little beasts were energetic and well trained; they scampered quickly to the mattresses and snuggled up in a circle on the silk sheets.

"Now," the gypsy ordered fiercely, "you will lie down with them!"

Lenny moved to the bedside and knelt onto the mattresses. They were as soft as heavenly clouds. She felt a powerful urge welling up in her. She knew now what it must have been like to have been a harem slave in Pharaoh's time. She felt a powerful willingness to sacrifice her body – and, yes, even her life – upon the altar of her master's passion.

"Your wish," she said quite seriously, "is my command!"

Lenora stood over the wide love mattress with a cocky demeanor. She grinned wickedly and hissed out a command to the raccoons. They stared at her for a moment, then began to move as if hypnotized.

Lenny remembered reading somewhere that certain gypsies have power over wild animals. It seemed that Lenora must have been such a gypsy. She directed the beasts with the surety of Diana, the ancient Goddess of the forest and virginity.

Virginity, however, was not the object of this game. If, Lenny thought with a thrill, this gypsy woman really was part Goddess, then she was some more actively passionate immortal, some figure from the eons-old mythology of pagan gypsy wanderers, some Goddess unbridled lust.

"Hummm," Lenny shivered as a gentle paw closed around one of her large nipples. The little beast acted as though he had been trained for this purpose alone.

Another of the raccoons ran clumsily down to the woman's feet. He began licking them, as though to cleanse them in preparation for the remarkable orgy that was just beginning.

The third little animal scampered to Lenny's waist. He sniffed and probed with his tiny hands, like a lecherous and somewhat furry midget. Finally he spread the wet lips of her vagina apart with his paws and shoved his snout right up into her well of desire. Kindly, his little red tongue began to lap at her clitoris, and then he shoved his nose even deeper into Lenny's cunt. It was as though here in this sacred orifice the little animal hoped to find some raccoon delicacies.

"Work on her!" commanded the passionate Lenora, stroking her own strikingly proportioned body with hungry hands.

"Yes, please!" Lenny cried out in a trembling voice, "please, you lovely little animals!" With a surge of insane excitement, Lenny looked down to see the raccoon at her breast twirling and rubbing her rigid nipple between his palms. He lapped at the tiny knob occasionally, lubricating it to enable him to increase the speed of his motion.

The second raccoon was slurping and sniffing its way up her legs now, having finished playing with her toes.

But, most stimulating of all, the third raccoon was ramming his head up into her cunt with unlimited vigor. Apparently, he too had been specially trained for his task. There must, Lenny thought to herself, be something in the woman smell that arouses his curiosity. He must be trying to climb into her womb to find the source of the tantalizing odor.

"Oh, Lenora," Lenny moaned, "this is gorgeous!"

"It is a beginning to my prize, but we must go on with the game."

Lenora came down suddenly on her knees, her face quite pale with emotion, and her hands buried deeply within her own wet soft cunt. "I tell you, blonde woman, there is more to come; there are better games and better pets. We must not spend all of our energy in one shop!"

Lenora shivered visibly, then got hold of herself, she clapped her hands together once more. Each raccoon stopped in the midst of his appointed activity. Three curiously masked little animal faces turned to look at their mistress.

Sure now of their attention, the passionate gypsy clapped her hands together sharply three times.

The furry little bandits waddled obediently back to their cage, which Lenora then locked and covered once again.

"We must go on to the next cage in our game."

Lenny half rose from her supine position on the bed. She saw the oppressive passion in Lenora's eyes and felt slightly afraid for an instant. There was something resembling witchcraft in this woman's sexual power.

Their eyes met and held.

"The next box!" Lenora demanded harshly.

"Ohhh!" Lenny moaned, she had enjoyed the last group of animals so much that she was almost reluctant to leave them. Besides, she felt the wave of desire sweeping through her, desire to become completely intimate with this almost supernaturally sensual gypsy woman.

"The next cage houses even greater delights, we must not fail the ritual of our game. We will be disappointed in ourselves if we do not move on while we still have the strength."

Lenny nodded, of course this wild woman was right. The idea of missing out on a new and more bizarre delight was dismaying in the very thought, there was no question that Lenny would kick herself the next day, if she was small enough to be satisfied with the hors d'oeuvre when the main course had not yet been served!

Lenora reached down to help the blonde beauty up from the exotic mattresses.

"You are lovely, Lenny Morgan."

"I fell into this strange mood, just then, Lenora, I didn't mean to delay the game."

A kind smile crossed the gypsy lips. "Don't worry, it is true that when one gets involved in the games of gypsy love, it is sometimes difficult not to fall into a trance of passion. But we must miss nothing together, this morning."

Lenny gasped as she saw that the next cage was even bigger than the last. What kind of gigantic animal was housed in the ornate box?

"You see the cage," Lenora said in a chanting voice, "you know that the animal is large. I will tell you that there is only one animal in this next cage!"

Lenny covered her eyes with still trembling fingers. She concentrated as best as she could, trying to think of a question that might give her a clue to the identity of the animal.

"Is it an animal that walks on four legs?"

Lenora picked the panties from the floor, where the busy little raccoon had left them after pulling them apart and tossing them aside in his haste to get at her lover's wet cunt.

"Yes," Lenora murmured, staring at the fine silk cloth. "It is an animal that walks on four legs."

"Hmmm," Lenny bent her head forward and pressed her hands more firmly against her eyes in concentration. "Let me see."

"No! No!" the gypsy woman's eyes sparkled madly, "I cannot let you see!"

Lenny did not feel like laughing this time. The game was still wonderfully exciting, but a new urgency had entered into its ritual.

"Is it an animal that you might find out in the West?" Lenny was grasping for straws.

"Yes."

In puzzled desperation Lenny wondered what kind of an animal could be housed in a cage that small. It could not be a horse. The cage was simply too small for that.

"Is it a wild animal?" Lenny had sudden fears that she might be about to meet up with a mountain lion or a panther.

Lenora's voice was soothing in its response.

"No," the gypsy crooned, "no my lovely darling. The animal is not a wild animal, except in its love for you."

Lenny's questions were all used up now. She turned and paced thoughtlessly for a moment, and tried to ease her mind to come up with the right answer. What kind of a strange animal could it be?

"Hummm," Lenny grumbled to herself, "the West, four legs, not wild."

"Hurry up, my love. We cannot wait all day for your guess."

Lenny thought of the other animals she had seen in western movies. The horse was no good. The mountain lion was wild. The coyote was also wild. The prairie dog…

"I can only give you a few more seconds for your answer, if you do not answer then, I will win by forfeit!" There was a strange, strident note in Lenora's husky voice. Lenny wanted desperately to guess right, this time.

Suddenly, it came to her! None of the other animals could fit, but one animal had appeared in almost every western movie she had ever seen. That animal was the faithful companion of the old prospector.

"I know!" Lenny cried in prideful delight, "It must be a Mexican burro!"

Lenora slapped her clenched fist roughly into a soft and lovely palm. "Clever! Very clever! I thought I had you. Now the prize is yours, your wish is my command." Now I've got her, Lenny thought to herself.

Lenny uncovered her eyes and grinned at the fuming gypsy. "You aren't going to be a poor loser, are you?" she chided.

Lenora grimaced at the blonde woman and spun away, her arms akimbo on her slim waist.

"I do what you say, you won!"

With a mixture of chagrin and joy, Lenny realized that they had somehow come to take the game much too seriously. It had grown from a kind of loving foreplay into something entirely different. They were competing violently and earnestly against one another for the sexual upper hand.

"You win, Lenora."

"What?" the dark skinned woman spun angrily toward Lenny. "What do you say?"

"I say that you have won." There was a soft throbbing in Lenny's voice; it had become husky and full of yearning.

The black eyes softened. The fire in them became a kind of warm, loving ember. "Why is it you want to say I have won the game, when you have guessed the animal?"

"I don't exactly…"

Lenora moved forward quickly. Her face was only inches from Lenny's now. Her eyes were not flashing at all; in fact they seemed devoid of light. They had become deep wells of dark and mysterious liquid.

"You know, and you must tell me."

Lenny stammered incoherently and looked desperately around the room for a way to escape her own cascading emotions.

The gypsy woman took Lenny's head in her hands. The fingers touched Lenny's cheek with a gentle firmness. Some strange energy was being transmitted through them. It was a transfusion of gypsy courage.

"What is it, my love," Lenora whispered urgently, "What are you thinking so seriously about our little game?"

Lenny stared into the pits of black ivory that were Lenora's eyes. She was hypnotized by the liquid depths. She could not speak.

"Tell me, little one," the gypsy was chanting the expression now. It was a part of the whole ritual of the game, the ritual into which Lenny found herself falling almost too readily.

"I cannot tell."

"Why not? What are you afraid of?"

"I don't know. I'm not afraid at all, really, just…"

"Just what?"

"It just doesn't seem like something that I want to talk about Lenora."

A strange, reverent expression came over Lenora's lush features. She backed away from Lenny with a peculiar smile growing on her full, dusky lips.

"So," she finally said, her tones back to normal now-confident, happy sounds that seemed to pick the weight of a thousand years from Lenny's slender shoulders. "So that is it, eh?"

Lenny looked at the woman in total confusion.

"What is it?"

But Lenora would say no more, she merely shook her head on the long, lovely neck.

"Lenora, do you understand this thing that I don't?"

"Gypsy laws tell us many things, little Lenny Morgan, and this is something that I understand as well as you do, but we cannot explain it to ourselves with words. Come. Let's play with the donkey."

The dark-skinned beauty opened the elaborate burro-cage and let the squealing animal out. He seemed more like a playful puppy than a full-grown burro. He bounded and romped about the room sniffing inquisitively at every nook and cranny.

Finally the cute animal turned its attention toward the two women. He fished about with his nose, probing one furry cunt then another. He lapped at their legs and nuzzled their breasts affectionately.

"He is a good, little burro," commented Lenora gaily, while the cheerful creature sniffed and slurped at the open mouth of her desire.

"Lenora," Lenny began in passionate tones, "it is my prize so I give it to you. The donkey and I will please you together."

"So!" Lenora fairly shouted with joy.

Then she jumped under the little animal and turned her stomach down toward the mattress. "Then, begin," she mumbled in muffled tones, her face buried deep in the silk sheeting. At the last word, her hips rose up sharply until she was on her knees and elbows beneath the jolly little burro.

Lenny reached out and took the still-limp donkey-prick in her expert fingers.

She began by rolling it gently between her thumb and index finger. As she did this the donkey became somewhat excited. He began to hump his body spasmodically. Beneath his growing desire, Lenora began to sway and rock back and forth on her haunches.

"Mmmmmm!" Lenny crooned violently, dropping her other hand to Lenora's buttocks.

"Yes, whore me!" breathed Lenora, "touch me there!"

"Yummy, yummy!" Lenny was gasping with excitement as she slid a finger down the crack of Lenora's lovely ass to the wet, soft fur of her snatch. In an instant the blonde woman had found the gypsy's inflamed clitoris. It seemed very prominent, very easy to excite.

The quick movements of Lenny's wrists had driven the little burro to a rapid peaking of his animal passion. He was hunching and thrusting rapidly and more violently.

With a cheer, Lenny urged the stiff prick into the open well of Lenora's urgent ardor.

"Aiheee!" the little animal had developed a rather full-sized erection, which he drove home with more enthusiasm than grace. Lenora strove valiantly against him driving her haunches up to meet his bounding thrusts.

"Ah!" she cried in ecstasy, "Ah! Ah! Burro, it is good!"

Lenny found herself left out of the activities momentarily, neither the burro nor Lenora needing her helping hand any longer. She ascertained that it would be possible to squiggle underneath Lenora's pulsing body in such a manner as to enable herself to kiss at the forward part of the cunt. She proceeded to arrange herself underneath Lenora in an inverted fashion. This way, she was able to lick and kiss the stiff knob of Lenora's clitoris while occasionally getting a shot with her tongue at the burro's active prick.

"Hell!" cried the lucky Lenora, as she felt the added stimulation. In her excitement and desire to repay her marvelous new friend, the gypsy woman took Lenny into her mouth heartily, sucking and tonguing the wet opening with passion that increased by the second.

"Ummm," Lenny began to moan softly, the sensation mounting with every second of action.

"More burro!" Lenora's voice was muffled in the softness between the blonde thighs.

"Ummph, ummpf, ummpf!" cried Lenny through the conformation of gypsy-cunt and burro-prick. She wanted the world to stop at this instant, leaving her forever in the arms of the beautiful Lenora and the willing burro.

The burrow neighed, whinnied its cry of ejaculatory triumph.

Lenora screamed and let her lips close tightly on Lenny's throbbing clitoris.

Lenny kissed the pulsing cunt with immense fervor, tonguing and moaning at the same instant.

"Ummph," she growled through the pubic forest. "Ohh!"

A low moan of satisfaction escaped from Lenora's lips, she fell away from her position between Lenny's thighs. Lenny too climaxed thunderously and fell in a heap on the silk sheets.

The burro, to which the whole thing was a lark, spent his geyser of burrohood into Lenora's waiting cunt and then bounded from the mattress to sprint around the room bleating his pleasure at the outcome of the situation.

"Oh, that was a wonderful thing," sighed Lenny reclining surfeit on the expensive sheets.

"You are a remarkable woman," chimed in Lenora, her eyes full of love and admiration.

"You are a beautiful woman," Lenny was in the mood for a mutual admiration society, "a true gypsy firebrand."

"There is some of the gypsy lover in you, my little doll."

"You think so?" Lenny craned her neck eagerly, trying to read the dark-skinned woman's face, trying to see if it were mere flattery – or an exciting truth from the wells of this strange woman's ancient knowledge.

"Yes, I think so," the lovely Lenora said flatly. "I think that's what you realized when you were unable to speak your heart before."

"I guess you're right." Lenny lay back and stared pensively up at the ceiling. She was dreaming of centuries of exotic sex-queens, women with scanty harem-costumes and crowns of purest gold. That was what she wanted to be, she wanted to be the very image of sexual bliss. The greatest sex symbol of them all, Lenny Morgan!

The burro scampered back into its cage and lay in a tired heap on the straw. He had had a rather good day himself.

"Well," Lenora said finally, rising from the bed of excess, "I suppose that it's time we got to work, you have a hard night's work ahead of you before we can relax together again."

Lenny groaned in reluctance, but there was no denying it. If she wanted to be a sex symbol, there was only one man in the world with enough power and connections to do it for her – Boss Carl himself.

CHAPTER TEN

Lenny parted from the dusky gypsy-beauty with some sadness. She knew that a grueling and perhaps dangerous task still lay ahead of her. After leaving a full report with Lenora she returned to her own apartment and changed into a suit and put her silky blonde hair up in a bun.

"That," she said snappily to the mirror, "ought to do for the sex-machine nuts."

She then caught a cross-town cab for the office of Masters McClain. The day, for this young woman at least, had just barely begun.

Though Masters McClain was waiting for her in his office at seven o'clock, he only saw her briefly. He instructed her to report to Mr. Cubbings immediately for a briefing on the performance.

"By the way, Miss Morgan," the dwarfish technology magnate snapped as she was about to leave his office, "I hope you brought your toothbrush."

"Toothbrush?"

"Yes," he grinned wickedly over his pencil-thin cigar, "you see, the performance will begin tonight at eleven o'clock, precisely. We'll make some overnight arrangements for you immediately after the performance. Unless, of course, you make some of your own." With this last comment, the little man arched his eyebrows scandalously and gestured for her to get out of his office.

Lenny rushed down the hall to the office of the second-in-command, Mr. Harold Cubbings.

Cubbings was waiting for her with a somewhat displeased look.

"Honestly," he complained, "I never know what the hell Masters is up to. To think of his inviting the guests for this very night."

"If it's so inconvenient," Lenny interceded, "couldn't you just postpone it and notify the…"

"Damn it, no!" snapped the irate Cubbings, "that's the point – the bastards are all as important as hell, they have to be invited to this damned bullroar months in advance."

"You mean that these guests were chosen before I was even hired?"

"Could it be any other way?" Cubbings rubbed his forehead despondently with the back of his sweating hand. "The bastard gambles on everything. Why, we'd begun advertising this little machine long before it was even off the fucking drawing boards."

Lenny noticed with some dismay that it was exceedingly difficult to pick out Cubbings' English accent when he was cursing so fluently. He sounded for all the world like a Boston stevedore; nevertheless, he was frightening her some with this talk of the performance. These people were obviously rather influential, if they were invited so far in advance. They must be the most prominent figures in American society.

It was a question of time, now. Somehow or other, the young Lenny Morgan had to get word out to Lenora or Boss Carl that the performance was to be tonight. The arrangements for the Carl Industries' counter-plot were not simple in any sense of the word.

If she failed to get word through to her compatriots, the elite and cosmopolitan citizens might very well fall for McClain's absurd and degenerate plan. Fall! She thought bitterly, they would probably swallow the whole thing, hook, line and sinker!

There was no question in Lenny's pressured mind that these people – once they were convinced that the Xylotrope was a desirable sexual status device – would lead millions of less advantaged and more envious dupes to stampede them like mistletoe in Christmas season.

A shiver coursed down Lenny Morgan's spine as the weak Cubbings began to give her the necessary instructions for sale of the fiendish Xylotrope.

"The main difficulty, of course," Cubbings had gained some semblance of self-control and was trying to rid himself of his plague of doubts by sounding as officiously confident as possible, "it is obvious isn't it, the main difficulty will be in convincing these devils that the Xylotrope is more exciting, that isn't quite the right word, huh, that the Xylotrope is more exotic as an experience than any physical relationship with a living body could ever be."

Boss Carl's parting instructions came up into the very back of Lenny's mind. She stiffened slightly as she heard them echoing through her consciousness once more.

"The trick is, baby," Boss Carl had admonished her with a gesture of putrid cigar smoke through the rancid air, "the whole trick for you is to make these dupes see that the one fault of this foul machine that McClain is putting on the market, the one single, fatal fault…"

Desperately, Lenny tried to bring the words into her memory, into clear focus in the edges of her mind. They would not come, however, everything was mixed up with the ugly control board blinking red lights and visions of gypsy queens flaunting their bodies with an almost holy abandon.

"What?" she asked suddenly, realizing that not a single word from Cubbings' mouth had entered her tormented skull. "What did you say, Cubbie?"

Harold Cubbings tried to look as out-of-patience as he possibly could. He performed this remarkable feat of physiognomical control by mimicking the exasperated expressions he had seen so often on the faces of those people to whom he attempted to tell amusing anecdotes from his past, or those even less fortunate bastards to whom he had on occasion imparted one of his latest stale jokes.

"I said," the slightly demented Britisher began again, "that the great problem you will face is…"

"Yes," Lenny leaned forward eagerly, hoping that she might make some connection between his "crucial problem" and her own. "Yes? What?"

"Uhhh! Damn it all! What bloody difference does it make!"

"I think it must make whole lots of difference, Mr. Cubbings," Lenny chirped helpfully, "or else you wouldn't have brought the whole business up at all."

"Yeah, bloody lot of difference."

The second-in-command was obviously suffering from a sudden recurrence of his old battle fatigue. His face had fondly smiled at the young woman before him, then contorted violently into a most horrible expression of disgust. Immediately, after these symptoms appeared the fellow went ash white and fell over backwards in his electronic swivel chair.

Lenny coughed her embarrassment and stood quickly. She supposed that she had ought to do something to help the weird character. On the other hand, her mother had always told her not to touch anyone who was having a fit.

"Are you having a fit, Mr. Cubbings?"

He scrambled clumsily up from behind the swivel chair and smiled weakly.

"No, of course not, just this infernal machine. For hell's sake!" he slid easily into a rather uneducated cockney accent. This both surprised and pleased young Lenny Morgan, at least he wasn't lying about being English, she thought.

"Excuse me, Miss Morgan," he said primly adjusting his wide tie carefully. "It was just a slip of the tongue, you understand, connected with my old war injuries."

"Lenny," he went on more seriously, attempting to regain some sort of control of the situation, "the responsibilities that you carry on your slender, lovely shoulders are manifold."

Lenny nodded, not really knowing what manifold meant – but not particularly caring inasmuch as she knew that it didn't have to mean anything, coming out of the rather garbled mouth of Cubbings.

"You must completely commit these patrons of ours to a life of sensual bliss with the Xylotrope and its soon-to-be-completed companion – the zylotrope. The zylotrope, naturally, will be the version of the device that is being designed for male enjoyment."

"I understand that, sir," Lenny commented coldly, "but there was something you were trying to say before – something about a special problem that I might have in selling this machine."

He nodded. "Yes, there will be one particular problem involved with your demonstration. You have to convince these suckers that our machine is more desirable from the psychosexual point of view than any woman-man or woman-woman or even, I shudder to think of it, woman-animal relationship – could ever be conceived to be!"

"You mean, sexier?"

"Precisely – as you know, sex is not only physical but mental. The essence of your assignment is to indoctrinate the potential customer with the idea that there is something, well, dirtier in sex with a zylotrope or Xylotrope than with any living thing."

"Dirtier?"

"Yes. You see, Miss Morgan, you may not be aware of it – but most sexual relationships are enjoyed partly because of the sensation of guilt they engender."

"Guilt?"

"Exactly!" Cubbings congratulated himself on how easily the young woman was catching on to his simple explanation of a complicated subject.

Lenny sighed sadly, she didn't actually understand a single word this demented man was trying to say to her – but one thing was obvious to her anyhow – he knew absolutely nothing about sex!

"So you see," Cubbings went on eloquently, "the man is unfaithful to his wife, not because the other woman is inherently more attractive – but because she is forbidden fruit. The same goes for all types of homosexual relations and really despicable things like relationships with animals."

He stared at her proudly.

She nodded. Not a word of what he had said made any sense to her at all.

Except! Suddenly the clue in his statement brought back everything that Boss Carl had said to her in those last, critically important instructions.

"The thing that makes the ultimate difference, is your ability to have a good sex thing going with the animals. But the real thing – the final element needed – that thing is the human need to sin! If sex isn't in some way dirty, then it is in no way interesting to the human being. Your job is to point out the many degenerate avenues down which the sexual connoisseur may wander if he follows my clubs and their unusual acts."

Lenny looked up from her strident thoughts with a start. There had been a strange noise behind the arrays by the windows. For a moment she had a terrifying fear that someone was eavesdropping on their conversation.

With a loud yelp, Mr. Cubbings' favorite pet – a huge Great Dane with a rather wild and lecherous gleam in his eye – leapt from behind the quivering arras and bounded across the room toward Lenny.

"Oh," the horror-struck Harold Cubbings cried out in dismay.

Lenny, however, remained calmer. As the beast descended on her with flashing red eyes full of lust, she managed to note this incident down in her memory. Obviously, Cubbings' weaknesses were deeper than she had hitherto expected.

The canine brute leapt onto Lenny with a force that almost knocked her over backwards in the overstuffed chair. He began to lap her exuberantly about the face and breasts.

"Hey!" she protested, "Bad doggie!"

His lappings were so energetic; in fact, that in a matter of mere seconds he had loosened the blouse front sufficiently that three buttons popped off in a minor artillery burst. This accident permitted an unhaltered breast to slip freely into the open air.

It might have been ego… but Lenny thought that the dog paused in his clumsy advances for a second – as though awed by the sight of such a flawless and well-endowed bosom.

However, he took little if any respite from his exercise. He began instantly to slurp loudly at her nipple.

"Uh, hey!" she was finding it harder to protest now.

The dog managed to work his muzzle in under what was left of her blouse and lap at the other lovely, white boob until it too sprang free of all encumbrances.

"Listen, hey, fella, bad dog!" Lenny's protests were becoming weak gasps. Something in the roughness of the canine tongue excited her. Her nipples froze into passionate rigidity. She could feel her breasts stiffening and becoming tense objects of sensual delight.

"Listen doggy," she tried once more to fend off his attack. This time she succeeded in pushing him off from her chest and down to the floor. But the Great Dane answered by lunging up under her suit-skirt this time. His tongue worked lustily at the naked orifice that he found there.

"So, yes, good doggie! Good boy! More!"

Lenny was quite out of control by this time.

Harold Cubbings, who had at first reached into his desk drawer for the revolver he always kept there, now stared in disbelief at the scene unfolding before his very eyes. His favorite pet, kindly old Horatio, was raping Miss Morgan! Worse still, Cubbings thought desperately, Horatio had chosen to rape the unfortunate Miss Morgan right here in the offices of Xylotropic Industries Incorporated!

"This," Cubbings admonished his dog from behind the safety of the desk, "this is truly outrageous!"

Horatio, dreaming nothing of other philosophies, proceeded with his attack, quite cheerfully, punctuating his probings and sniffings with exemplary wags of his huge tail.

"Bastard!" Lenny cried.

"Oh! Oh! Miss Morgan," the befuddled Cubbings stood behind his desk, struggling and twitching in a helpless fit of cowardice. "Miss Morgan, I am simply mortified!"

"Screw! Screw! Screw!" Lenny cried. With a deep breath and a set to his jaw, the terrified Harold Cubbings made a step forward, intending to break up the disgusting activities and rescue the attractive Miss Morgan.

He stopped suddenly in his tracks. His mouth dropped open, permitting a drop of saliva to drool down the corner of his lips.

Harold Cubbings could not believe his eyes!

Lenny had reached down and grabbed the animal by the haunches, and with a terrific wrenching motion, she managed to pull the animal up between her legs. This enabled him to hump his long, red, steaming prick up into her open cunt.

Lenny, in a distant land of delight now, thanked her lucky stars that she had remembered to wear her long suit and neglected to wear any panties. It had been her considered opinion that the situation at Xylotropic Industries Incorporated was such that she might expect to be called upon for "auditions" at any time.

One would have to assume that Horatio was also quite pleased with Lenny's decision in regard to her undergarment.

"Bastard mutt!" Lenny roared angrily, "When I say screw, I mean screw!"

As though he understood her shouted words, the Great Dane drove his red cock into her at a redoubled rate. His mouth hung open in exertion. His red eyes rolled crazily in their sockets.

Finally, with a cry of agonized pleasure, Horatio shot a load of doggie-spend up into the soft warmth of Lenny's snatch.

"Wow! Yummy! Yummy!" Lenny stretched and squirmed against the dog, but he was through.

Like any dog when through servicing a bitch, Horatio bounded down from the mount and dropped his carcass comfortably onto a plush carpet.

In that position, the Great Dane fell instantaneously and contentedly asleep.

By this time, the prim and sophisticated Harold Cubbings was having a heart attack. His chest heaved mightily and there was an aching growth in his crotch. He was immensely excited by the scene that had just transpired between Horatio and Lenny.

So excited, that he felt an extremely urgent need to get into the act.

"Fucking dogs!" Lenny was grumbling menacingly as she groped with her fingers beneath the hem of her tweed suit. "They never finish what they begin, dumb animals!"

"Miss Morgan," Cubbings ground out the syllables of her name, despite his extreme emotional upset. "Miss Morgan, I'm terribly sorry if the dog has done something to upset you."

Lenny looked around herself furtively, she heard a voice through the fog of passion, but she couldn't quite place it, whose voice was that? Where was it coming from?

"I can assure you that I'll pay for any damages, Miss Morgan, by that I mean, well, we don't generally like to see our employees treated like animals – uh, no – that's not quite what I mean."

"Aha!" Lenny screeched with gloating wrath. "Cubbings! So, it's you, is it? Come here you old fart!"

Cubbings stared at her blankly, of course.

After all, there was the other night. That was quite a friendly experience and this woman could not have forgotten that so soon. On the other hand, he reckoned grimly, she was a rather violent and emotional woman. There was something exceptionally dirty and degrading about being pumped by a dog – if she was that unstable, mightn't she kill him in vengeance?

"Please, Miss Morgan," he whined pitifully, "don't hurt me, I didn't have anything to do with this. It was my dog! If you have to hurt someone, Miss Morgan, please, hurt the dog. He did it! I had nothing to do with it!"

"Your bastard dog!" Lenny began fiercely, "Your bastard dog is not worth shit! He's a quitter!"

The whole business seemed entirely over Cubbings' head, he sank limply to the desk and buried his head in his hands. "Oh my, oh my," he cried.

"Cubbings!" Lenny's voice lashed his ears like a barbed whip. "Harold no good screwball Cubbings!"

In his distraught state, Cubbings had the terrifying vision that his mother was calling him.

"Cubbings you dumb eunuch! If you don't come over here and finish what your dumb-ass dog started, I'm going to go stark raving mad!"

He raised his head from his hands and stared at Lenny Morgan in disbelief. She was stretched out on the soft chair, her heels spread wide apart on the floor and her hips hunched up so that she was able to shove her entire hand into her open throbbing cunt.

In that instant of revelation, the whole thing hit him smack in the eyes like a visionary gleam. He roared with desire and ran across the floor, his trousers failing down about his ankles as he hurried to her side.

"Lenny!" he cried passionately.

Then he tripped on his trousers and fell flat on his face in front of her.

It was close enough for Lenny Morgan, her blonde hair tossed over her neck in waves, as she scooped up the crumpled form and pulled it onto her.

"I see!" Cubbings roared like a drunken preacher, "I see it all now! The Xylotrope is nothing but a big pain in the ass! What we need in the world is more filth!"

"Filth!" Lenny cried tugging his buttocks closer to her striving loins, "Hooray for filth!"

"Long live filth! Long live dirty! Long live fun! Long live the king!" With each thrust of his burning penis, Harold Cubbings shouted a new phrase of the revolution.

Without a doubt in the world, Lenny thought to herself later, there could have been no better preparation for the evening's performance than the briefing with Horatio and Harold that afternoon.

It was, of course, quite late in the afternoon, or she wouldn't have done it at all. Nice ladies never do anything like that until at least seven.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

That evening the Xylotropic Lounge was bathed in a cold blue light. This done under the orders of none other than Masters McClain himself. The effect, he said fervently, was to be one of complete technical sensuality – everything was to suggest the beauty of the clicking, whirring machine.

The customers, or perhaps we should say – potential customers – were gathered by eight-thirty. That, as was the custom with McClain's affairs, was the time stated on the embossed invitations.

No one was admitted after quarter of nine.

Everyone was forced to wait in hard-backed chairs until eleven-thirty.

Lenny was understandably nervous, for she had never appeared in the Xylotropic Lounge before. It was her debut, so to speak. She had taken the precaution of calling Boss Carl from a pay phone in the ladies' room. He and Lenora had ample time to load the menagerie into a truck and sneak into the wings of the club.

Masters McClain was under the delusion that none of his people were bribable. In point of fact, practically every one of them could be touched by the simple promise of sexual intercourse with one of the harem girls. This simplified the Carl Industries scheme greatly. The animals were silently hustled into the wings of the Xylotropic Lounge in soundproof cages on fiberglass casters.

When needed, these elaborate cages could be pushed onto the stage by a mere girl.

Lenny spent most of her time in the dressing rooms, scrounging around for make-up, adjusting her skimpy negligee so that it hid absolutely nothing of importance, etc.

At eleven o'clock, Masters McClain came into the dressing room and tried to cheer up his nervous starlet.

"Baby," he boomed from his dwarfish physique, "everything is going to go just great!"

Lenny looked at the eunuchoidal little man shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know, Mr. McClain, I sure hope I don't let you down…"

"Let me down!" he squeaked charmingly, "why that's ridiculous. Don't even think about it at all – just remember this: the machine will do everything – you are just a bit of tinsel on the package!"

With that parting shot, the technology magnate slapped her heartily on the knee and walked from the room with a bounce in his tiny step.

A few minutes later a small bell rang over her dressing room mirror and thundering electrical bleeps began to assail her ears from hidden speakers in various positions along the wall.

"It must," she said grimly to herself, "be time to go on."

A squeaky voice piped up over the intercom next. It was the voice of the Xylotropic computer. "My dear Miss Morgan," it whined formally, "house is full and the lights are going down – I am programmed to tell you at this point that you must report to the stage at once."

"Thanks," she snapped back coldly.

"Break a leg, baby…" the mad computer squealed in reply.

Lenny threw a bottle of cold cream at the speaker and walked slowly to the wings. She was met there by a heavy-set figure in a trenchcoat with bare feet. Even in the darkness she could tell that it was Boss Carl.

"Screw 'em up, slash," he growled.

She nodded grimly and walked out onto the stage. The still somewhat haggard Cubbings was at the control panel of the Xylotrope. He began to twiddle with the dials. The machine which sat in a spotlight at center-stage, began to whir and grind ominously.

The audience, all of them in formal evening dress and wearing small masks that made them look like embarrassed Lone Rangers, became completely silent. The hush made every noise stand out, in her paranoiac nervousness Lenny thought she heard a muffled snort from Droopy, the giant sloth, who was supposed to be secreted in the wings.

She stood for a moment in the shadows directly behind the spotlighted Xylotrope. Then she raised her hand for the orchestra to begin.

As might have been expected, Masters McClain had arranged to have electronic music supplied by the Xylotropic computer. It lacked something in the way of beat.

Lenny swallowed hard and began to dance, making the best of the weird music.

Somewhere in the back rows she heard a distinctively polite snigger.

In order to squelch the Doubting Thomases, Lenny began to work at her filmy negligee. McClain had had his engineers equip it with an invisible zipper that was programmed to fly apart when the electronic music struck a certain note.

Disdaining that convention, Lenny began to grind and twist her full, lovely hips. The motion caused the negligee to fly up and bare her thighs and bottom. As the energy of her dance increased, her extraordinary breasts flopped free of all visual interference.

With a sudden animal-like screech – Lenny ripped her costume to threads – scattering the pieces like wild oats over the front-row audience. In his exclusive box, Masters McClain wiggled uncomfortably. He bent to whisper to a client, "What the hell did she do that for? I mean it's not clean. It's – it's crude and untechnological!"

The client, who happened to be the famous star of the silver screen, Lyle Montagne, turned to McClain and stuck out his tongue allowing a trickle of saliva to dribble down onto the polished aluminum floor.

Meanwhile, Lenny had approached the Xylotrope. She held it tenderly in her hands. She caressed the pulsating plunger. Finally she put the device into her mouth and rotated it wildly, passionately.

Masters McClain relaxed slightly in his box and commented to the actor beside him, "Well, that's better, I mean, that is real sex!"

Montagne turned to him with a sneer and chided, "Yeah, how come you never taught the fucking thing to curse?"

"What?"

"I'm telling you, ya dumb scientific bastard," Montagne went on, "I could do a better job than that thing any day."

McClain simply sniffed disdainfully and turned his attention back to the show.

"Say," Montagne whispered a little too loudly, "I sure would like to trade places with that machine!"

McClain squirmed uncomfortably in his aluminum seat. "Boy," he whined in a metallic voice, "you really are a perverted sonofabitch, Montagne!"

At this juncture, Lenny had already inserted the pulsating, whiffing, maple-syrup-secreting Xylotrope into her vagina. She felt its many surfaces stirring her to the very vortex of desire. She was playing it straight now – her face flushed with urgent need – her brow broke in diamonds of perspiration.

The audience was becoming truly excited; men and women were beginning to move in their seats restlessly. Hands searched and groped through evening clothes for telltale bulges and soft, damp yearnings.

Lenny ground her smooth hips down over the driving plunger of the Xylotrope. She was actually trying to come on the machine now; it had really excited her.

"Yummmmy!" she crooned, "Ummmmm! Hurry! Hurry!"

The audience was now on the edge of its collective seat. All eyes were riveted on her gorgeous, trembling body. They knew they were about to see the first public, Xylotropic orgasm.

But it didn't come.

And she didn't come.

"Make me come!" Lenny screamed out in sincere urgency. "Please make me come little machine! Please!"

But she could not get from it the little extra push she needed to send her flying over the brink of thundering climax. Her face began to contort in anger and frustration.

"What the Hell is wrong with this machine, McClain? It ain't got no balls!"

A low, threatening murmur rose up from the restless crowd. They were beginning to mumble something about balls.

Masters McClain sensed disaster forming around him. Desperately, pleadingly, the little man leapt onto the seat of his aluminum chair. "It has balls!" his tiny voice screeched out in fearful protest, "It does! It really does! It has a maple syrup solution designed to secrete in seminal bursts at the proper moment as determined by the xylotropic computer, guaranteeing simultaneous orgasm effects which surpass…"

His feeble cry was cut off by a growing murmur from the crowd. "Balls," they cried in unison, slipping easily into the rhythm of a chant. "We want balls! We want balls!"

Lenny's voice rose above them all, as Lenny was humping and thumping and grinding onto the throbbing Xylotropic plunger. It was to no avail that she strained. She began to scream bitterly, "Nothing! Nothing! Nothing!"

The crowd took up her chant, mocking the new-born Xylotrope as though it were a toothless old man trying to please the big star with its limp-sponge dick.

"Damn it!" Lenny screamed out over the rioting crowd, "I'll show you what you want! I'll show you something dirty and groovy!"

She cast the unfortunate Xylotrope aside carelessly and placed two fingers into her mouth, whistling loudly. The sound had barely escaped her lips when the blurred figure of a massive grey Great Dane shot across the stage.

Lenny hadn't expected this, but she welcomed it for the second time that day. The huge dog did not waste any time now; he knocked the young blonde woman to the floor and waited for a short second for her to begin to rise. When her buttocks came up from the floor, Horatio drove his quivering red prick deeply into her cunt.

Lenny screamed out for joy, knowing that she was coming in tremendous spasms beneath the romping advances of a three-year-old thoroughbred.

"Arghhhh!" Lenny screamed, "Ahieee! Cuntfucking dog! Screw! Screw! Hump! Hump! Or! Oh! I see stars! I see Heaven!"

Lenny was aware of very little from that fine moment on. She sensed basically that there was some kind of wild stampede on the stage. Lenora appeared from the shadows, thrusting the inquisitive boa constrictor in and out of her vulva. The red tongue probed and searched in the gypsy womb for some key by which to open the door of understanding to this peculiar, human ritual, but the cold-blooded eyes saw nothing.

Somehow the sleepy sloth piled onto our Lenny and pumped her briskly with his colossal prick. She noticed this because he was not wearing his customary sailor suit. Instead, he had donned the coat-and-tails of one of the more rambunctious customers.

For the unfortunate Masters McClain the evening was so diverting, however, he was aware of only one thing. The audience had become foul, lustful beasts. His whole concept of a new technological sexuality – clean metallic stimulation in the relative privacy of one's own home – this whole lustrous concept had been shattered forever by the wicked Lenny Morgan and her magnificent menagerie.

He even suffered the ultimate of indignities. As he rose in his seat, clambering to the top of the aluminum seat which he personally had designed to fit the contours of the gluteus maximus – as the proud owner of the revolutionary new Xylotrope stood to stop the wave of customers who were storming the stage – Lyle Montagne reached over and tapped the aluminum leg of the chair.

"Light as a feather," Lyle commented dryly. "That's quite interesting. Why, a small breeze would probably move it. It's such a fine alloy." With that, the famous actor puffed lightly on one of the legs and sent the erstwhile inventor tumbling down onto his plump bottom.

"Damn!" the fat little man cursed mournfully. "Pride before the fall…"

"Yup," the actor added. "But after the fall – life! That's the way it happened in the Bible. You know – after the fall came rich, fertile, life!"

The tiny dwarf-like scientist and promoter seemed confused. He rubbed at his sore fanny and watched as the charging crowd trampled the Xylotrope to bits and pieces with a raucous chorus of cheers and curses. They then whirled in noisy delight to sample the physical joys of the menagerie and each other.

A fat woman in a low-cut evening gown ran clumsily after the scampering burro.

Another man enjoyed his wife from behind for the first time in twelve years, while she enthusiastically sucked on the mammoth prick of a hirsute gorilla. They suddenly screamed out in earsplitting harmony, and then fell exhausted into each other's arms.

In the light-booth, Boss Carl had successfully overpowered the technicians by opening his raincoat and laughing like a sex-crazed hyena. He then quietly shifted the dimmers from cold blue to lusty, warm red.

Lyle Montagne stood over the wounded McClain, laughing heartily with arms akimbo. After a moment or two, he took pity and looked down with understanding eyes.

"You had a question, I believe, Mr. McClain?"

"Yeah," McClain continued to rub timidly at his sore bottom as he stared dizzily up at the actor, "I wondered about that word you used before – uh – fecund. What does fecund mean?"

Lyle Montagne looked out over the chaotic scene below and laughed genially, "To you – my technological friend – it simply means dirty."

"Oh!" McClain commented self-righteously. "Is that all?"

"Yes that is all."

"Well, I guess it's not such a bad word in itself."

"Oh fuck you, you bastard. Look what you have done to this place. And then you talk about a word like fecund."

"What do you mean what I have done. Don't you think what I have done is good?"

"Yes but we're not enjoying any of the fun. That is my trouble."

At that McClain stood up and started unbuckling his pants.

"Well, let's go find us some girls then."

"Now wait, I don't want a girl," Lyle Montagne said stepping toward Mr. McClain.

"What do you want?" McClain asked ignorantly.

"Why some of that fat ass of yours," Montagne replied.

Then he lunged at McClain and caught him around the neck.

He began stripping the older man's clothes off of him.

McClain, of course, protested. But to no avail.

Soon Lyle had McClain's clothes off of him and was preparing to take his own off.

"How am I going to hold you while I take my clothes off?" he asked laughing.

Just then a pretty young girl stepped out of the crowd and said, "Hey, listen this looks like fun. Can I help in any way?"

"You sure as fuck can. Hold this unwilling asshole while I take off my clothes and then we will get to some good loving."

"Okay, let's get to it," the girl said eagerly.

"Listen you two, don't do this," McClain said lying on the floor.

By this time Lyle had his clothes off and his big nine-inch cock was hanging out in front of him.

The girl grew terribly excited at the sight of the huge cock and started to let go of the man.

"Now hold him. You'll get yours."

"Okay," she said.

Lyle got down on his knees and began massaging the ass of McClain. "I'll bet you have a nice asshole, asshole."

With that he turned the man over and ran his finger up his asshole. He continued to do this until he was sure that the ass was what he wanted.

Then he leaned down to McClain's cock and began sucking it. Faster and faster he sucked and the more he sucked the more McClain moved his hips.

The girl was terribly excited now and had to let go of McClain to run off to find herself a lover. She did not have to run far until she ran into an ape that was waiting to fuck somebody.

She grabbed the small ape and began masturbating him. The ape squealed with delight.

Faster and faster she jacked him off, and the closer she came the more he wanted her to continue.

Then she stopped and reached down between her bare legs and stuck a finger up her twat.

This finger she then stuck in the ape's nose so that he could get the message.

Then she fell down on the floor and he fell down on top of her. He began by licking her cunt with his long powerful tongue that flicked in and out, in and out, causing her to reel back and forth and grab his head, forcing him further down into her cunt.

The ape sprung up and grabbed his own tool and began beating it off.

The girl was afraid that he would relieve himself so she grabbed his cock and poked it into her mouth and began sucking on it.

She loved the warm fury feeling of his dick in her mouth.

But she had to stop, as she wanted him in her cunt not in her mouth.

She pulled him down on her and he entered her and began fucking her.

Meanwhile Lyle had put his dick inside of McClain, who now was panting with desire and telling Lyle to fuck him faster and faster.

This Lyle did.

Faster and faster, until he felt his nuts tighten and the come working into McClain's asshole.

His body jerked and reeled in the orgasm. On and on the come squirted into the ass.

And McClain had dropped his load on the floor. He too was screaming in delight at this new found happiness.

Content

Harold Mitchell
Women who perform with animals

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN