"Well, I suppose a lot of the spreads I did are just getting published now. Who knows? Who cares?" Jerri muttered.
"Come on," Russell pleaded," what's this all about?"
"Some asshole from an asshole magazine in New York flew in and popped up in the front yard a few minutes ago to do a story on The Model seated here!" Carol joked.
"Oh," Russell said, eating heartily.
"Mr. Bernheimer," Dave said laughingly.
"He wasn't bad-looking, at least," Jerri smiled.
"We really shouldn't have been so rude to him," Dave said.
"I'm sorry," Jerri said to her brother. "I was upset."
Carol stood up to grab the pot of coffee on the stove when they heard a strange voice call out.
"Miss Phillips! Miss Phillips!"
"Shit!" Jerri yelled, throwing her napkin to the table.
"Miss Phillips, may I just have a word with you for a minute?" Mr. Bernheimer called out from the porch.
Dave looked at his sister. "Come on, Jerri, at least talk to the poor guy."
"Oh, all right. Let him in," Jerri said, going back to her food.
"Why don't we at least invite him for breakfast?" Tracey asked.
"Great," Carol said, fetching another plate and coffee cup.
Dave entered the room with Les Bernheimer. "Mr. Bernheimer, meet my wife Tracey, Russell, Carol, and you already know Jerri. "Jerri smiled a very phony smile.
"Hi, everyone," Les said self-consciously.
"Listen, you had breakfast?" Carol asked.
"Well, no, not really…"
"Here, pull up a chair and eat," Carol said as Russell pushed a chair from the corner of the room to the table. Les sat down.
"Pancakes? Bacon? Coffee?" Carol asked.
"Oh, yes, wonderful," the man said, sitting at the table. Everyone was smiling at him except Jerri. She was eating and not looking at anything or anyone but her plate.
"You want to do a story on us?" Russell asked.
"Yes. Well, no. I want to do a story on Jerri here. People are very interested in her, you know. "Les took a sip of the coffee Carol had just poured him.
"Hmmm," Russell said, pulling at his beard," I don't think you can do a story on Jerri without doing a story on us."
Les looked puzzled. "Why's that?"
"'Cause we're a tribe."
"A… a what?"
"Tribe!" Jerri shouted and went back to her breakfast.
"What exactly is a tribe, may I ask?" Les inquired, looking at Russell.
"A tribe is a group of people who live together in Snow Canyon and eat, drink, cry, laugh, and fuck together."
Les Bernheimer almost choked on his coffee. Carol repressed laughter as she watched the shocked expression on the man's face. He chose to ignore the comment. "You really have a beautiful place here," Les said, trying to change the subject.
"We sure do," Jerri said, finishing eating. "And we intend to keep it beautiful by not at-lowing it to be photographed or written about or anything like that!"
"Listen," Les said strongly," how can you do this to your public? I took a chance coming here-my editor said it wouldn't be worth it-but I flew out on my time because I believed in you. I believed you'd give me a story of the hippie life to knock New York on its ass! I'm on YOUR side!"
"Bullshit! Our side! You just want to make a fortune off me, you want to fly back to the city with an expose of model turned hippie freak! Well, you're not going to do it, because I'm not telling you anything about what I think, about what I believe, or how I live or feel."
"You're not giving me a chance," Les said, almost pleading.
"A chance? Why should I give you a chance?" Upset, Jerri stood up and stared Les in the face.
"Because you preach love, love, love. What kind of love are you showing me by not giving me an interview?"
Jerri took a step toward him, with a knowing gleam in her eye, almost sinister. "Love, huh? What's that got to do with an interview? You want me to show you love? Okay, I'll show you love, we'll show you love. Russell, grab him!"
Before Les could do anything-before Russell could ask what the hell Jerri was doing-Russell had grabbed Les' arms and held them behind his chair. Jerri stood between the man's legs and lifted her long skirt to her waist.
"There, look at that. The famous model's pussy! That, my dear Mr. Bemheimer, is LOVE!"
Les sat there staring at the girl's thick-haired pussy. His eyes almost bulged from his head as she moved closer and closer to him.
"Don't be afraid, now. I just want to kiss your lips a little," Jerri said as she thrust her pussy in his face. She rubbed her hips around, nestling his nose and mouth against her cunt until she finally felt his tongue fit between the lips. Then she pulled away. The man's face was flushed. His cock was growing in his pants. He looked startled.
"You like that? Write about that in your magazine!" Jerri said, dropping her skirt to the floor again, giggling.
"You're really sick," Les muttered.
"SICK?" Carol screamed. "Sick! Look at you, in that monkey suit with your cock getting harder than ever. We're sick? You can dig it!" She fell to her knees and began to undo his belt.
"No, come on, stop… "he pleaded, but to no avail.
Carol opened his zipper and pulled his pants to his knees. Then she grabbed the elastic band of his white undershorts and pulled them down to his knees also and his cock sprang up into the air.
"Oh, God," Les said, looking down at his hard penis.
"Carol, let me. I'm sure it will make a better story if the model herself sucks him off," Jerri said, pushing Carol out of the way.
In the next moment, Jerri took the man's cock in her lips and began to suck as hard as she could. She pushed it to the back of her throat and bit lightly with her teeth. Her chestnut hair fell over his naked thighs and moved over his balls, causing a tingling sensation up his spine.
Russell looked on and when he felt Les was really enjoying it, he dropped the man's arms and stood watching in excited amusement, as were the others.
Suddenly, the man began to jerk his buttocks into the air as he began to come to his orgasm. "Oh, yes, that's it, suck my cock hard… "he mumbled as Jerri's head thrust itself up and down between his thighs. "Suck me, suck me!" Les shouted.
"She's sucking you, already!" Carol yelled back kiddingly. But the man didn't hear her. He was lost in another world of passion and surprise.
"I'm gonna come-here it is-hold on-oh, Jesus Christ Almighty!" His hips bucked into the air and the explosion of cum hit the back of Jerri's throat. But in the next second, as the man's body fell back into the chair, the entire kitchen chair fell over backwards! Les' shooting cock sprang from Jerri's mouth as he flipped over backwards, his feet in the air, landing on his head on the floor.
"Ahhhhhh!" he shouted, trying desperately to grab onto something to keep from falling. But there was nothing to hold onto. As he flipped over, jets of white cum shot from his cock into the air and landed in various places in the kitchen. When he hit ground, a big dribble of cum hit him in his eye and he almost began to cry.
Russell and Dave immediately helped the man up and into the living room, where he pulled his pants up. Jerri was laughing hysterically on the kitchen floor. Carol and Tracey were in stitches. No one could believe the funny situation that had just taken place.
Les Bernheimer pulled up his pants and buckled his belt and ran from the house, down the drive, and jumped into his car as fast as he could. In a moment only a cloud of dust stood where the car had and the interviewer had departed.
Inside the kitchen, Jerri was trying to calm herself, drinking coffee.
"Think he'll write the story?" Carol asked.
"If he wants to get fired," Dave laughed.
Chapter 6
The letters from Lydia and Ray Phillips kepi arriving, begging answers to questions there were no answers for. They sincerely wanted to understand their children better, but they were ashamed of what they had heard and read. It was common news now that Jerri Phillips, New York's up-and-coming top model had told the industry to" go to hell," had run oft to the hills of New Mexico, and had started a hippie colony with some others, including her own brother and his wife.