Slave Lover (17 page)

“I want you to take me with you,” she said.

He smiled. “Good girl,” he told her. “I knew you wouldn’t take the easy way out.”

“They have nothing to offer me now,” she said. “Trial, degradation, newspapers, prison. And even if I beat the rap, to spend the rest of my life in that tawdry, mediocre world. I couldn’t. I’ve flown too high and sunk too low to ever be satisfied with plodding along on the ground again.”

“Come back,” they heard a voice say. It was the agent. He seemed absurd, with his tight suit and his worried expression, waving at them. They both laughed.

Then, at the edge of the crowd, Constance saw Chet, and she stiffened momentarily. Robert, to whom she had told the story of her former lover, saw him also.

“Is that Chet?” he asked.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“He’s the one who led them to us?”

“Yes. He meant well. He still does. But Chet will never stop plodding. I love him dearly, but he doesn’t make my soul sing.”

Robert put his arm around her shoulders and the two of them turned their backs to the crowd and looked out toward the sea. The sun was setting. It was a calm, warm afternoon. The water was orange and red and yellow with the dying light. From far below they could hear the surf pounding. They looked down. Jagged rocks gleamed amidst the spumes of swirling foam.

“I wonder what it will feel like,” she said.

“That’s what everybody wants to know. And we don’t find out until it’s too late to tell anyone else. The secret is very well kept.”

He slid his arm down and ran his hand over her ass. She twitched her buttocks. “Please, Robert,” she said. “Not here. Everyone’s looking.”

“Come back. We want to talk to you!” the voice of the agent rang out again.

Robert and Constance pretended they didn’t hear.

“Would you care to go for a swim, my dear?” he asked.

She looked over at him, her expression a perfect mixture of fear and joy.

“I’d go anywhere with you, and do anything,” she said.

He began to unbutton his shirt and she joined him in taking her own clothes off. Within half a minute, they were both naked. Then he took her in his arms and held her tightly. She raised her face up and their mouths met. Their kiss was long and deep and passionate.

“Good-bye, Constance,” a voice rang out. It was Chet. Without looking up she waved one hand at him.

She could feel Robert’s cock, now hard, pressing between her thighs. She raised her right leg and brought it around his waist, opening her cunt up for him to enter. He bent his knees a fraction and brought his cock up from underneath, sliding it into the split cunt. She gasped. Then she brought her other leg up and wrapped that around him so that she was totally off the ground, her legs around his waist, her cunt gulping his cock.

Behind them they could hear whistles and applause from the gathered crowd. They had become such a spectacle that all discipline had broken down, and FBI agents and soldiers and ex-slave girls and employees of the Parlor all mingled together.

Constance felt a great surge of warmth in her chest, an explosion of searing radiance in her head, and a deep pulsing in her cunt. She opened her eyes and found herself looking into Robert’s soul. He had the same look of easy insouciance he always carried.

Then they were off the edge. They clung to one another tightly. The wind rushed past. The sea loomed larger and larger. Constance was laughing, she was having an orgasm. Robert smiled.

And when they smashed into the rocks, they did not lose their embrace but were totally and permanently mashed into one another, their bodies becoming indistinguishable from each other.

Then they fell into the sea. The waters covered over them. And they entered a realm of eternal and infinite peace.

All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright 1993 by Second Chance Press

ISBN 978-1-4976-3476-3

This edition published in 2014 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
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