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Authors: Celia Cohen

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I left her mouth and kissed my way gently down her neck, lingering at the bewitching hollows. I had not had my fill when she enticed me elsewhere, cupping her breasts in her own hands and offering them up. They were small and firm, and they gave my eager mouth a choice of soft curves or darkening, hardening buds. I feasted there as she moaned and muttered, “This one...now the other one...oh, go back...yes, the other one again...”

She squirmed in the chair as I moved on to kiss the taut midriff that had tantalized me for days. I spent much time there, while her fingers teased her own breasts and she pleaded with me, “Keep going, keep going, keep going.”

I made her wait and wait and wait, but eventually I could stand it no longer. I wanted the mystery of her. As I brushed my mouth through the light curls, she spread wide for me, and with a deep breath I plunged in.

I lost myself in the taste and scent of her, in the dark honeycombs and swells that beckoned me. Oh, I had all the time in the world now, I was the giver of earthly delights, and she would know madness before I was done.

She gripped the chair. She laced her fingers in my hair and pressed her nails into my skin. She begged. She cursed. She groaned in sweet agony. Then she arched and bucked and writhed and shouted as I gave the bitch what she wanted.

She sagged in her chair. I stood swiftly, ripping the sash from my hands, and caught her up in a ravishing kiss. We were both sweaty and heaving, lovers of conquest, not of tenderness.

When she regained her strength, she shoved me away and held me spellbound with sultry eyes. My fists were clenched. I waited upon her.

“Go and turn on the Jacuzzi,” she said.

I did as I was told. She came in and dropped the robe on the cool tiles, then slowly submerged her luscious body in the warm, churning waters. She caressed her nipples and taunted me with a smile. I looked at her with ravaging desire.

“All right,” she said. “You can come in now.”

I started to take off the jacket to my blue suit, but she spoke again. “No. Come in as you are. Leave your clothes on.”

My best suit!
I looked at her in frustration, but what the hell. She was worth ruining a new suit for. I splashed in.

She laughed triumphantly and kissed me, her hands playing roughly with my breasts through my shirt. She used her strong legs to knock me off balance and pushed me under the water. When I came up sputtering and coughing, the water stinging my eyes, I felt her yank off the button on my trousers and pull down the zipper. She pinned me against the side of the Jacuzzi, and her hand went into my crotch. Her mouth crushed against mine, the water swirled around me, the heat rose in steamy vapors, and she fucked me as though she owned me and I was there for the taking.

When she was done with me, I collapsed. It was all I could do to hold myself out of the water.

She left me there, got out and calmly toweled herself off. After a moment I pulled myself shakily out of the Jacuzzi. Alie helped me strip off my sopping clothes.

I left them in a heap. I knew I would never wear them again. Randie was going to see that new green suit, after all, damn her eyes.

Naked, we went into the bedroom and got between the sheets. We had so much more lovemaking to do.

Later in the night I stirred. I didn’t entirely come to, just enough to realize that through it all, not once had I noticed Alie’s ungodly voice.

Epilogue
 

In the morning I was awakened by the sensation of Alie’s hands running lightly over my body. Believe me, there are worse ways to wake up.

She smiled at me dreamily. “I’ve got to go to New York for the U.S. Open. I want you to come with me.”

“I don’t know,” I said, but she started doing things to me that made it impossible to say no.

We made love, and then I telephoned Randie. Just in case I was wavering, Alie got on her knees and licked my belly and thighs and crooned obscenities explaining what else she wanted to do to me.

Randie was understanding. “You’ve got vacation left for the year, and you’re entitled to some leave after what you went through this week. Take all the time you want, Kotter.”

“I’ll miss you,” I said.

“Kotter, go explore the world. There’s a lot to life outside Hillsboro.”

That afternoon I flew out with Alie on a private jet. I didn’t bring a suitcase. She said we’d get what I needed as we went along.

We had an incredible time together, and it didn’t hurt that Alie was playing great tennis. Maybe the two went together. Anyway, she got through the quarterfinals by beating her arch-rival Maria Lopez, then lost in the semifinals in three sensational sets to Monica Seles.

The U.S. Open is always a media circus, and it was worse for Alie than usual because of what happened in Hillsboro. Still, she stonewalled the press pretty effectively, and the tournament officials protected her. Papa de Ville never showed, which was a great relief.

Three weeks after I left Hillsboro, I made my way back and walked into the police station as evening was coming on.

All was quiet. The Beer Belly Polka was at his post.

“Kotter?” he said. “Christ, where have you been? You look like you’ve been on a binge for weeks!”

“Sarge, I’ve been in a place so strange that even you look good to me,” I said and planted a big smackeroo on his forehead.

“Kotter, for Christ sakes!” he bellowed, but he was bright red and looking rather pleased.

I went to Randie’s office and turned myself in. Her eyes lighted up at the sight of me, then did a quick inventory to see that I was all right. “What happened, Kotter?” she asked, a lilt in her voice. “Did she wear you out?”

“She sure as hell tried.”

“But you were up to the challenge.”

“It’s true. I was up to the challenge.”

“Well, your talents were never in doubt—only your judgment.”

“Great. I’ve been back for two minutes, and look what I get. I’m just another one of those battered people who can’t stop going back to abusive relationships.”

“Are you back?”

“Yeh.”

“It wasn’t working out?”

“It was working out fine,” I said. “It was terrific. We had intimate little dinners, went to all kinds of parties and hung out with a bunch of celebrities. I even got to meet Martina. Money was no object. Alie bought whatever I wanted and even some things I didn’t particularly want but she wanted for me. And the babe has an incredible imagination in the sack. She plays a game of ‘Simon Says’ you wouldn’t believe. It was the high life, for sure.”

“So?”

“So there were the coach and the trainer and the agent and Papa on the phone all the time and the officials from the women’s tennis tour and the sponsors and the press and the groupies. It was Camp de Ville out there, and I wasn’t cut out for it. I didn’t want to be indentured to her, you know?”

“That’s because you’re already apprenticed to me.”

“I guess so.”

Randie came around her desk. She draped her arm affectionately and protectively around my shoulders. It was supposed to make me feel good, and it always did. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go to the Hollies. Just you and me. With your talents, there’s someone else out there already, just waiting for you. And Kotter?”

“What?”

“I’m glad you’re home.”

 

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