“Yes. Forget about it. You’re too tense. Concentrate on me, on what you’re doing.”
“It’s like making love in the Gilbert Hall of Science.”
Carrie giggled. “Or in Frankenstein’s laboratory. But forget it. just make your mind a blank and let yourself go.”
It was good advice, and I took it. I gave myself up completely to sensation. I felt her quivering response as I located the fulcrum of her womanhood, and I responded back. Both her fists circled me now, and she was moaning low in her throat. Her body began to thrash about with desire, and I found myself moving with an ageless rhythm as my own passion mounted to match hers.
Her nails raked my back, urging me over her. I raised myself up and then plunged down hard. She rose up to meet my thrust.
“Ahh!” Carrie held me prisoner for a moment. Then, slowly, she began to move—little circular movements, not wild, but intense and controlled.
I followed her motions, moving slowly, horizontally, holding myself back to enjoy the exquisite tactile sensation as she both rotated and squeezed at the same time. Shudders began to sweep over her body. I leaned forward, increasing the inner pressure. That did it. She gave a little cry, and then she was heaving and bouncing beneath me like a maddened volcano about to erupt.
It was a struggle now, a wild, angry struggle. Our bodies hammered at one another like frenzied animals in a battle to the death. She screamed, and I cursed.
“Now!” Carrie screamed again. “Now! Now! Now! Rape me, you lover! Now! Rape me! Now! Give it to me now! Now! Now! Now!” Her teeth tore at my shoulder.
I grabbed her by the ears and slammed home in one final surge of berserk passion. She rose to meet it. Together we crashed through the void and split the universe apart!
A sudden sharp crackling of electricity brought us down out of that void. We’d gotten our wires crossed—- literally. In our frenzied passion, we’d broken connections and tangled them. And now there were sparks shooting from our groins and the sputtering of live wires around our pubic hair.
“Don’t move!” The voice boomed out from a loudspeaker somewhere in the room. “If you do, you may electrocute yourselves! Don’t move! The slightest shift of position could mean the end of your lives!”
Yeah! But what a way to go!
chapter TEN
“Wow!” Carrie hadn't quite come down out of the clouds yet. “That was the--” She caught up with our electrifying predicament. “Eek!”
“Don’t move! ” I cautioned her, echoing the loudspeaker, which she obviously hadn’t heard.
She didn’t move. Neither did I. We waited. It seemed like an eternity, but in reality, I suppose it was only a couple of minutes. Then Von Koerner appeared at the head of a phalanx of white-coated technicians. They began yanking levers and pulling wires, and finally the electrical crackling at the juncture of our bodies subsided. Gingerly, Carrie and I pulled away from each other.
Von Koerner was all apologies. I could believe his sincerity. I was the goose on the verge of laying one hundred thousand golden eggs for him and it didn’t figure that he was trying to kill me. When he got through begging my pardon, he delicately broached the subject.
“Do you believe now that I have the item you wish to purchase?” Von Koerner asked.
“It seems reasonable to assume that you do.”
“And you will have the money agreed upon for me tonight?”
“Yes. Providing you can assure delivery.”
“I can.”
I pulled on the last of my clothes. “Say, Von Koerner, will you tell me one thing?” I asked curiously.
“Perhaps. What is it you wish to know?”
“Why this whole elaborate sex bit with Mrs. Cromwell? Surely you could have just produced her, had her tell me you had her husband, and let it go at that.”
“Two reasons.” Von Koerner looked positively coy. “First of all, since you are the man from O. R. G. Y., I could not resist showing off our operation to you. Secondly, the lady demanded it. She remembers you from some past meeting, it seems. She positively refused to cooperate under any other circumstances. As a matter of fact, she was positively callous about her husband’s fate.”
“Well, I’ll be damned!” I stared at Carrie Cromwell.
She blushed. “I just had to-—just once.”
“No apologies necessary,” I assured her.
I gave her a quick kiss, and we parted. Von Koerner had me escorted out of the Institute. Still vibrating a bit from the high-voltage scare I’d had, I hopped along back to my hotel.
There were the usual messages from Hortense. I was just flushing them down the toilet when the phone rang. I picked it up and said “Hello, Hortense” into the mouthpiece.
“How did you know it was me?”
“Elementary. You haven’t had time to go through today’s roll of dimes yet.”
“What? Oh, never mind. What I called you about, Steve, was the--”
“Wedding. " I finished the sentence for her.
“Oh, then it’s been on your mind, too.”
“Constantly.”
“I’m so glad.” Hortense missed my sarcasm. “Because we have this problem. I’ve inquired all over Washington, and I haven’t been able to find a Zoroastran minister anywhere. How do you think your mother would feel about a Zen Buddhist?”
“Perplexed.”
“Umm. I was afraid of that. I met this Zen disciple and he tried to convince me there was a similarity, but I had my doubts. You see, he was a lay person.”
“Is that how you met him?”
“What?”
“Never mind.”
“All right. Anyway, Steve, I’m at my wits’ end. Do you think maybe your Mom might consider a Yoga?”
“I don’t think so. Generally speaking, she’s prejudiced against anything chiropractic.”
“Well then, what are we going to do about her?”
“Let’s not ask her.”
“Not ask her?” Hortense was shocked. “To her own son’s wedding?”
“She never liked me much, anyway.”
“Really? You never, told me you had Oedipal difficulties.”
“I don’t like to talk about it. It makes me feel guilty.”
“You mean you—! ” Now Hortense was really shocked.
“Constantly.”
“With your own mother!”
“We were very close.”
“I can imagine! But—”
“No buts. It was over a long time ago. I never think of it any more—except maybe on Mother’s Day.”
“What about Father’s Day?”
“I spend that in a Zoroastran temple—repenting.”
“Well, it’s your family,” Hortense said philosophically. “If you don’t want your own mother at the wedding—-”
“I don’t even want her along on the honeymoon,” I assured her.
“Okay. But there's something else, Steve. The business of the maid of honor. I thought of asking Trixie.”
“Who’s Trixie?”
“One of the girls I used to work with. But if you have any objections-—-”
“None at all. Ask Trixie. As a matter of fact, why not ask the whole gang to be bridesmaids?”
“Gee, they’d love that. If you really wouldn’t mind—”
“Not in the least.”
“Thanks, Steve. Gosh, there are a lot of other things I have to discuss with you about the wedding.”
“Why not let it go until tonight? We can talk about them then.”
“How can we? We’ll be with Barry and Elsa. And they already think we’re married. Remember?”
“That’s right. Well then, after we split from Barry and Elsa.”
“We’ll be at that spank-party then.”
“After the party. I really don’t have time now to—”
“All right. I guess it can wait if you’re busy.” Hortense sounded only a little bit miffed. “But I did want to ask you about the party. Do I have to go to it?”