Daedalus

III. Strengthening

Ajit had finished his master's program with honors. His thesis, dealing with the political problems of emerging nations, was brilliant. It had come to the attention of the same international firm his father had worked for and they actively sought his services. The pay was quite good, the future for advancement was, likewise, promising. So Ajit decided to accept the position. After two years and a minor advancement he grew to realize that the business world was not for him. His resignation was reluctantly accepted with the possibility that if he changed his mind, he could return.

Ajit resolved to continue his education. He was accepted into the the prestigious University of Chicago to pursue his Ph.D.

In the middle of his second year he had met Cynthia Colewood, a gorgeous, tall blonde who had, that semester, begun her Master's program in history. There was something about her that Ajit found terribly appealing. Her quiet beauty complimented her equally reserved, glowing personality. She had an elegance about her that was rare. So it wasn't unusual that Ajit would be attracted to her and they began to see each other.

Ajit Miller had by then physically matured to his six feet-two inches, one-hundred-eighty-five pounds. His physique was not that of a Hercules, rather of an Adonis, spectacular in its own realm. His muscles were long and well defined, broad shoulders, narrowing hips and muscular thighs, all of which he regularly exercised. The broad, muscled chest was accented by two dark brown, half-dollar sized aureoles. Black wavy hair luxuriously crowned his high forehead, below which were full and slightly arched eyebrows and deep blue eyes which could flash dark in anger or sapphire with delight. His strong nose, medium-wide mouth, slightly full sensuous lips were fortuitously placed above a strong and angular chin possessing a slight indentation. The color of his skin resembled burnished teak. Of course his warm open personality and brilliant mind made an appealing contrast. So it wasn't unusual that Cynthia would be attracted to him as well.

Their relationship progressed slowly, at its own pace. At first meeting for coffee or lunch, then dinner and a movie or dancing. Their first kiss was tentative, but as their time together grew so did the length and passion of their kisses. He gloried in fondling her firm breasts and in the light gasps she uttered when he sucked the erect nipples into his mouth. He also delighted in the feel of her hands exploring his bare chest and back.

Their intimacies grew. Unlike his previous relationships they did not make love the first or even the second time they were together.

It was well into their sixth week of dating that he had removed her panties and felt her hand tentatively grasp his hardened cock as he lay also nude beside her. He gently slipped a finger into the slit at the top of her lightly blond-haired cunt and began to manipulate her hard, hot clit. His action brought low groans from her throat and the quickening of pressure on his finger circled dick. His tongue traced the outline of her ear and probed its small opening. He slid his finger down to that steaming, moist tunnel and inserted it in. Cynthia groaned louder and arched her back as her passion increased. More insistently, he tongued her ear and then laved her neck. He could feel the lubricating moisture of her pussy increase, even flow. Gently, slowly he brought his body on top of hers and made a move to insert his throbbing cock into her cunt.

"Not yet, my darling," she whispered breathlessly and reluctantly he withdrew and lay beside her, his head at her cunt.

Ajit's tongue darted from his mouth and into the moist slit, searching out the hot little button. Finding it, he tongued it gently. Cynthia gasped and reached for his hard cock just inches from her face. He continued to probe and lick that sensitive little spot, causing her hips to began to rotate and thrust in delicious enjoyment. Her hand moved up and down his pulsating cock and after one of the downward motions, she reached over and planted a warm, moist kiss on the glistening, purplish cock-head. His tongue insistently roamed the insides of her torrid cunt-lips and he felt his cockhead being encased by her lips.

He had licked her pussy before to her gasping pleasure, but she had not, until that moment, taken his cock into her mouth. He groaned and centered his attention on her super-heated clit and stimulated it voraciously. Her gasps came in increasing volume and regularity. Two more times she sucked his cock-head into her mouth before he felt a rhythmic spasm possess her body. He had brought her to climax! He gently encircled her hip and rolled it 'til his face was buried in that lightly-haired cunt and he inhaled that sweet musky perfume.

The pleasure that she had received she wanted to reciprocate. Lightly she grasped his cock and watched the purple head appear and disappear beneath its satiny foreskin as she moved her hand up and down that turgid dick's length. She smiled as she felt it swell, become hotter and shudder. She knew his release was near and she observed that beautiful, dusky cock with warm, sensual delight. It jumped in her hand and then copious amounts of cum erupted from its slit covering her hand, arm and breast.

"Beautiful . . . so beautiful, " she whispered.

Ajit turned around, sitting, gathered her up in his arms brought her face to his and said quietly, "You're beautiful, my darling . . . and . . . and I love you." Then he lowered his lips to hers and gently kissed them.

He had grown to love her. The declaration came easily for him. "So easily," he mused to himself. Cynthia was the first woman he had truly grown to love. There were past relationships that he suspected would grow into love, but none had.

Cynthia encircled his neck and whispered into his ear, "I love you too, my darling."

Fore some minutes they held each other thus. Luxuriating in the warmth of their bodies and in the declaration freely spoken.

Cynthia's refusal to make love was not due to virginity, for indeed, she was not. She had had a fairly long, passionate relationship during her undergraduate years, had given herself freely and completely and had been painfully wounded by his brief affair with her roommate. The realization and the breakup had been so painful that she swore to herself she would be more circumspect in the future. This she had confided in Ajit, and he understood.

Ajit adjusted a leg that was beginning to cramp. Cynthia released herself, reclined on one elbow and gazed up into Ajit's sensuous blue eyes. He crossed his ankles and sat in the lotus position. Both smiling deeply at each other.

Her gaze lowered to that dark bush at the base of his perfectly smooth torso and to the detumescent cock nestling between the twin orbs. Her free hand moved to her breast and began to massage a drop of that pearly cum onto her nipple. Ajit lifted her hand, bent over and licked the cum lavished nipple, tasting his salty ejaculate. Again they smiled into each others eyes.

Once more her eyes dropped to his cock. Slowly she lifted that still opulent, but softened muscle off its bed and carefully retracted the satin covering. The glistening head emerged and on its narrow slit a small drop of cum appeared. She smiled, reached over and the tip of her tongue lifted it off the slit and she, likewise, savored its saltiness. Her action brought a slight spasming to the distended cock. She licked it again. Again it jerked, this time a bit more insistently. A third time she lowered her lips and she first sucked just the head into her mouth, finally she lowered her lips accommodating the whole cock in her mouth. There, she could feel it began to swell again.

She lifted her face up and said with an arched eyebrow, "Again. . . so soon?"

He smiled, "M'lady . . . you don't know what you do to me."

"I'm beginning to suspect, " she chuckled as she fondled the nearly erect, hardening cock in her hot hand.

"You devil," he hissed as he bent forward to plant a kiss on her lips.

"Mmmm . . . ," as his tongue parted her lips and probed her mouth. Then his fingers searched and found her still hot cunt and began to probe again. She gasped.

Quickly she maneuvered herself onto his crossed legs, straddled his waist with her thighs, grasped his cock, aimed it and plunged down taking its whole length in one motion.

The feeling of his hard cock so quickly being encased in her hot, moist cunt brought forth, "Ohhh, Jeeze," from his lips. He embraced her, kissed her again, fully on the lips as his hips began to thrust upwards.

"Ohhh. . . yessss, my darling. I've wanted to feel you inside me for such a long time," and she began to bob up and down in counterpoint to his thrusting.

"How I've wanted to fuck you," came his husky reply. He positioned his hands behind him for more support and thrust his cock deep into her juicy cunt.

"Yessss . . . ," she hissed, "Fuck me, Ajit, fuck me . . . I want to feel your beautiful, big cock deep in side me. . . . "

"Your pussy feels so fuckin good to me . . ."

With mounting passion the two are locked in that most erotic dance. Ajit uncrosses his ankles and places his feet flat on the floor, knees flexed. Cynthia, legs still encircling his waist, lowered her back to the floor and with her heels at the small of his back forces herself further on to that cock. Ajit looks down to an unimpeded view of his cock pummeling her hot pussy.

"I love to watch my cock . . . fuck your hot . . . cunt."

"Oh, god, Ajit . . . fuck me. . . . Shove that big dick deep into me . . ." as wave after delicious wave engulfed her being.

Ajit gasps, "Cynthia . . . your hot cunt . . . your fuckin hot cunt . . . My cock feels soooo goooood in your fuckin cunt. . . . . ," he proclaimed loudly.

Cynthia moved, arched, rotated, thrust her hips as Ajit fuck-pounded her. Each deep thrust brought renewed joy to her. Then his thrusting speeded up and became stronger, "Come on Baby,"she said breathlessly and then more insistently, "Cum!!! . . . I want your big cock to cum in me . . . Shoot your hot load . . ."

He strained and he quickly reached the point of no return, arched his back and shouted, "Oh, . . god. . . . Cynthia, I'm COMIIIING!!!" He exploded inside of her, spasm after jolting spasm racked his body. When his cocked ceased its convulsing, he reached down, encircled Cynthia's waist and neck and gently raised her to him. She wrapped her arms around his heaving chest and nestled her head into the small of his neck. She could feel his still erect cock deep inside her. It brought her much pleasure.

He lay back, she on top of him, he still inside of her and they talked tenderly of what they had just experienced, of their love for each other and those things that people who are falling in love often talk about.

After a few minutes, Ajit smiled quietly when Cynthia didn't answer his last question. She has slipped into satisfied slumber. He listened and felt her slow deep breathing. Ajit joined her. Together, their closeness and warmth buttressed their growing affection.

As the months passed Ajit's affection and love grew. Their passion together increased. They were parted for two months during that summer when he visited his Sri Lankan family and then his English family. He had asked her to accompany him, but she said that she could not. She was taking a Summer School class and the press of studying didn't allow for a vacation. She would only be able to visit her parents for three days.

When he returned, she met them at the plane and they went directly to his apartment. The long flight did not seem to have effected Ajit as they made love that night with a vigor they had not experienced before.

"I've missed you so much, darling," he easily admitted, holding her sweat dewed body beside him.

"I've missed you," she replied simply and then added, "I do love you."

He kissed her lightly on the mouth. "Maybe we should think of making this permanent," he said softly. He detected a slight tensing and a little intake of breath and asked, "Is something the matter?"

"No, love, nothings the matter."

One evening, in the following March, Ajit said, "Darling, I've got something to tell you."

"What?" she questioned, wide eyed. The announcement sounded ominous.

"I'm going to have to go to Geneva for a couple of months, maybe more."

"What on earth for?" she questioned, somewhat relieved but still apprehensive.

"I need to do some research at The League of Nations' Headquarters. I've tried to obtain the material, but it just isn't coming through," then he added, "It's vital for my dissertation."

"So long?" she asked, "Does it have to be so long?"

"Well, it all depends on how quickly I can access the material," he stated, adding, "Why don't you come over in the summer. . . a vacation. You're not taking any summer courses this year."

She thought for a couple of seconds, then said, "Sure, alright, I'd like that."

"By the way, are we going to your parents for Easter?"

"No, we can't. I just called today: Daddy's flying to Milan and Mum's going to Savannah to visit her ailing aunt," she stated matter-of-factly.

Half in jest he said, "You know, I really don't believe you've got any parents."

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, it's just that every time we have plans to see them, they have had to be canceled for one reason or another."

Defensively she replied, "Ajit, that's not fair. You know that Daddy's schedule is so full. Sometimes he has to leave at a moment's notice."

Sensing her agitation, he changed the subject. Cynthia didn't speak much about her family. Only that her father was in some type of manufacturing and his business took him abroad frequently. Her mother was not often well and traveled as little as possible. She had an older brother, Richard who was a lawyer in Washington, D.C., and by her tone of voice when she did speak of him Ajit detected that they didn't get along very well. Her family would have to be put on the back burner.

Three weeks later he flew to Geneva, found a small furnished apartment and settled in. Cynthia was to fly over the end of June. He hoped that the bulk of his work would be finished by then. At any rate, he would take some time off and they would vacation on the Costa Brava for a week or so. He would need the relaxation as he suspected that his time in the League's archives would be long and tedious.

The two months went by rapidly. His time spent in the archives was productive. Every Sunday he'd spend an hour on the phone talking with Cynthia, telling her how much he missed her, how much he loved her and of his plans when she'd arrive. He wrote her passionate letters and looked forward to receiving her equally passionate answers.

The day she was to arrive in mid June, he had his apartment cleaned and tidied up, left early for the airport, stopping along the way to buy Cynthia a dozen yellow roses, her favorite. When she came through the customs exit, he swept her off her feet and breathlessly kissed her, dropping the roses in the process. Cynthia laughed as he picked up the roses, handing them to her, not a little flustered, but smiling none the less. They took a taxi to his apartment and upon entering he swept her in his arms and kissed her deeply, grinding his body against hers. She could feel his swelling cock beneath his pants.

"My, my, you are either a wanton or sex starved. . ." she joked.

"Both," he answered with a laugh, covering her neck with hot kisses. They made passionate love on the living room carpet.

That evening he took her to his favorite little restaurant, Jean-Michele. It was intimate and served excellent food. Together they relished escargot d'Bourgogne, truite au beurre, legumes Macedoinne, Camembert, and a delicious peu d'onion. They walked back to his apartment, arm-in-arm, stealing kisses along the way. Upon closing the door, he, uncharacteristically muttered, "Shit."

"What's wrong, darling?"

"I meant to pick up a bottle of champagne I had ordered. I completely forgot. Do you mind?" he asked going back to the door.

"No, darling, take your time. This girl needs to unpack," she smiled and planted a little kiss on his cheek.

Ten minutes later he returned with the champagne that the dealer had chilled for him. The door to his bedroom was ajar. "You alright?" he asked.

"Yes, just fine, "she answered.

He went to the kitchen, took down a small tray, two crystal flutes, arranged the classes and bottle on the tray and went to the bedroom. He nudged the door open with his elbow and entered the bedroom.

Cynthia was stretched out on the bed, bathed in the light from the bathroom. She was smiling and nude. A broad smile spread across Ajit's face and he said, "Now who's the wanton."

"Why don't you find out?" came her mocking reply.

Ajit set the small tray on the bed-side table. His eyes alight and he continued to flash his bright smile. He removed his jacket, dropped it on the chair and kicked off his shoes. Her eyes glistened. "If she's going to tease me, I can tease her," he thought. Slowly he pulled off his white turtle-neck sweater, let it drop to the floor and began to rub his hands over his torso, lasciviously centering on his purple-brown nipples. She smiled as her tongue darted out of her mouth and moistened her luscious lips. He unbuckled his belt, pulled it through the loops and draped it 'bout his neck. Slowly, ever so slowly he unzipped his trousers. Cynthia squirmed on the bed. He undid the tab and 'V'd' the fly open. He inserted his right hand into the opening and cupped his hardening cock and ample balls under his briefs. Slowly he began to rotate his hips. Cynthia squirmed even more and brought her hand down to her heating pussy. Ajit turned around, facing the

opposite direction, slid his thumbs under the waist band and pushed his trousers down to his ankles. She gasped at the sight of his hard ass encased in their white cotton briefs and the bulging balls. He stood up, stepped out of his trousers, kicked them side-ways onto the chair, reached behind and began to massage his ass with one of his hands. He turned back to Cynthia where she could observe that his other hand was inside the crotch of his briefs, fondling his cock and balls. She groaned. With his free hand he yanked violently at his briefs. A rending tear was heard as the light fabric gave way and he held the tattered, torn briefs in front of him. He tossed them to Cynthia who caught them in mid-air and brought them to her face and inhaled deeply. Her other hand began to massage her hot, moist cunt. Ajit placed his free hand over his other cock shrouding hand and slowly turned around. He spread his legs wide apart and Cynthia could see one hand

fondling his ball sack. She groaned with delight, sat up and reached out to touch his beautiful, smooth ass. He quickly stepped away and then slowly turned back, a lascivious smile on his face. He was hard, his cock was rigid and Cynthia watched as he moved his fist up an down the length. Then he took his belt, looped it under his hanging balls and pulled up slightly. His balls were brought forward and his cock jerked.

She could take no more! She pushed herself back against the pillows, raised her knees and spread them wide apart. At the same time she rolled one of her nipples between her thumb and forefinger and with the middle finger of her other hand inserted it into her slit and began to stimulate her clit. All the while her eyes were locked on Ajit's. He watched her remove the finger from her pussy and lick its entire surface. He dropped the belt and his balls lowered to their original position.

He could take no more! He bounded onto the bed and immediately buried his face in her steaming pussy. His tongue lapped the moistening slit. He drew back. A strange taste. A distinctly sweet taste. He leaned forward sniffed lightly and again lapped his tongue in between her hot cunt lips. Sweet, distinctly sweet!!! Honey, she had spread honey into her pussy. He pulled back and his questioning look was replaced by a broad smile as he saw her bright smile. She glanced knowingly at her nipples, again he smiled and reached to suck one of the taunt nipples into his mouth. Salty!

"What other surprises do you have?"

Coyly she answered, "That's my secret." She grasped him under the arms and drew him to her, planting a languorous kiss on his mouth. He felt her superheated cunt-lips brush against his cock-head and moved it against that hot, moist slit. His hips flexed until his cock-head had detected her love tunnel opening like a heat seeking missile. The entrance was fiery and juicy.

He plunged in. His passion shrouded eyes snapped open, "What the hell?"

She began to laugh, and then he. Her vagina was ice cold. "An ice cube," she said and then added, "you bring out the whore in me." They rolled laughing in each other's arms.

She wrapped her legs around his waist and Ajit maneuvered his hips 'til he felt his hot, throbbing cockhead against the base of her flowing cunt. She lifted her lips to his ear and whispered, "Ajit, I want to feel your hard cock slide into my hot pussy. I want you to fuck my cunt. I want to, feel your big cock explode and fill me with your cum."

Her whispered words fueled Ajit's already considerable passion. He groaned.

"I want to feel you fuck me fast and hard," she whispered hoarsely.

Uncharacteristically, he plunged his turgid, swollen dick all the way up her fuck-tunnel.

"Yessss . . . ," She hissed, "FUCK ME," Her tongue darted in and out of his ear.

He complied, he fucked her hard and fast, not thinking of her or her orgasm, only the fucking.

Suddenly, he yelled, "Yes . . . Yessss . . . YESSSS!" Each 'yes' louder and each yes-accompanied plunge more violent and deeper. The last lunge had jolted her up to the headboard. She could feel his convulsing cock deep in her cunt. He collapsed on her, panting, sweat streaming in rivulets over his body.

She smiled and embraced him tenderly.

After his labored breathing subsided, her raised his head and said, "I'm sorry, I don't know what got in to me."

Smiling at him, she answered, "Don't be sorry, my love. It was good to see you just fuck."

His brows knitted, questioning.

Then she added, "You're a perfect lover, always thinking of me. I just wanted to see you lose yourself for once."

He smiled, kissed her lips and drew her closer to him. Seldom had he been possessed by such a pure, uncontrolled animal passion.

After spending two glorious weeks lolling on the Costa Brava, they returned to Geneva. Ajit's research had been going well, but he felt that he needed one more month to completely finish. He had talked Cynthia into extending her stay 'til they both could return at the same time.

She was a bit apprehensive at first. Cynthia had told her parents that she would be home the third week in July. She phoned them informing them of her change in plans.

As she hung up the receiver Ajit thought he perceived a look of concern on her beautiful face. "Is everything alright, my love?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied, willing her face into repose, "They were a little upset, but it's okay." She kissed him lightly on the lips.

He detected a slight concern in her voice. They had been together long enough for those little shadows, which would pass unnoticed by most people, to be recognized.

A few days later, after hours in the archives, he returned to the apartment. Cynthia was sitting on the sofa, absentmindedly leafing through a magazine. She looked up as he entered. Her face reflected some deep concern.

She stood up and announced, "I received a call from Daddy. . . He and Mum are arriving here, tomorrow."

"That's wonderful," replied Ajit, and then added, "Shall we reserve a room for them?"

"No, they'll be staying at the Ritz-Grande."

Ajit's eye brows raised and said with a smile. "Rit . . zeeeee!"

The Ritz-Grande was a small hotel, maybe twenty rooms--mostly suites--reputed to be most elegant, having the finest service and the rates prohibitive, except to the very few. It was so exclusive that it did not even appear in any of the normal guides.

She smiled wearily. He noted her mood and gently enfolded her in his arms and just held her. He could feel her relax and said, "This will be the perfect place to meet your parents."

She merely nodded her head.

They ate at Jean-Michele that evening. Upon returning to the apartment, her mood had softened and they made love leisurely. Both were attentive to the other's needs, desires. Ajit noted that his orgasm was not as explosive as it had been the night Cynthia had played the whore, but it was, nonetheless impressive and memorable. They both fell asleep in each other's arms.

The next morning, they waited at the airport's customs entrance for Cynthia's parents. She seemed a bit preoccupied, but when a particularly handsome couple emerged, she broke away from Ajit and ran up to them, embracing first the man and then the woman--her parents. Ajit waited until she brought them to where he was standing.

"Daddy, Mum, I'd like you to meet Ajit Miller," she said formally, a smile frozen on her face, then, "Ajit, my parents Morgan and Elyse Colewood."

"Mr. and Mrs. Colewood, It's a pleasure to meet you," he replied, equally formally shaking Morgan Colewood's hand and bowing slightly to his wife. He flashed his most appealing smile.

Morgan Colewood observed Ajit. It was Mrs. Colewood who broke the silence, "Ajit, it's so nice to meet you too . . ," and then added with a smile, ". . . finally."

Ajit returned the smile and turned to her husband, "Sir, shall I collect your luggage?"

"That won't be necessary," came the sonorous reply, "The Ritz-Grande will transfer it."

"Well, then" said Ajit, "welcome to Geneva! I'm sure you're a bit fatigued from the long flight and will need to rest a bit."

"Actually it was not the least fatiguing," replied Morgan, "We took the Concorde to Paris and caught an immediate flight here."

"Excellent," Ajit stated, a trifle annoyed at the little game that seemed to have developed. Then he added, "At least you'll need to unpack. Later, Mr. and Mrs. Colewood, I would like you to be my guest for dinner. The Chateau Margot has a fine menu and an impressive wine cellar."

Morgan Colewood cocked his head slightly, as a chess master would do when placed in 'check.' "Yes, I know it well," he smiled, then glancing up he said, "Come, here's the car." He nodded to a black Bentley that had just parked at the curb, attended by a uniformed driver.

Morgan and Elyse Colewood entered the opulent machine. Cynthia held back. "Aren't you coming with us my dear?" asked her father.

"No, I thought you and Mum would like to get settled first," she said defensively.

"Nonsense, my girl, we haven't seen you for months. Come, get in," he insisted. "Ajit won't mind your mother and myself having an hour or so with our daughter, Will you, young man?" he asked condescendingly.

"Not in the least, Sir," came Ajit's curt reply.

Cynthia hesitated, then entered the car. The driver closed the door, and drove away.

"What a cold, imperious man," Ajit said to himself as he walked to the taxi stand, "No wonder Cynthia hadn't introduced us earlier." He seethed at the cold, officiousness of Morgan Colewood and rightly thought that he was a "control freak." And, "Elyse Colewood, must be totally dominated by him, she said barely a word," he thought. In this he was mistaken. He taxied to the apartment and tried to busy himself with his research until Cynthia's return.

At around four, he heard her key in the door, and she entered. He looked up and frowned slightly. She seemed tired and he thought that he detected a slight puffiness in her eyes.

"Are you all right?" he asked with concern.

She came over to him and placed a warm kiss on his lips. "Yes, my darling. I'm okay. It's just that my parents can . . . ." and she stopped.

"Can . . . What?" he asked.

"Can be so tiresome," she completed her thought. "I need to take a shower," she stated and turned to walk to the bedroom. "Oh," she said, pivoting, "Daddy insists that we dine at the Ritz-Grande!" and added, "As his guest. . . . Do you mind?"

Masking his anger he replied, "No, not at all." She entered the bedroom and he could see her begin to undress as she walked to the bathroom. "That son-of-a-bitch," he said under his breath.

The dinner: the food was superb, the wine glorious, the ambience perfect, but, the conversation was stilted. Ajit was asked about his family and research. The questions were most general, innocuous and he had the suspicion that his answers were of no consequence. "What a waste of good food and wine," he thought. Cynthia was neither animated nor quiet he noticed. Mrs. Colewood was a charming hostess and Mr. Colewood was the perfect host. Yet, he felt a strange, cynical ennui.

They rode to the apartment in silence. Upon entering, Ajit at a loss of words, said, "That was a superb dinner."

Cynthia spun around and confessed, "Oh, Ajit, I'm so sorry." She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him hard. Her body pressed hard against his. She broke the kiss looked deep into his eyes, "I do love you."

He smiled warmly, "And, I love you."

Again they kissed, long and tongue searching. The kind of tongue probing that always brought a swelling to Ajit's cock. They moved provocatively against each other's body. Her hand, which had been pressed against his lower back, moved down to his firm ass, then around to the swelling in his pants. Expertly, an expertise that came from much practice, she massaged his hardening cock beneath his trousers to full, throbbing erectness. Then she took his hand, led him to the bedroom and gently pushed him down onto the bed. She reached out, unfastened and unzipped his fly allowing the hardened, brief covered cock to bulge forth. He kicked off his loafers as she pulled down his pants and briefs, letting them drop on the floor. She crawled between his legs opened her mouth and tongued the soft, dark, fluted edge of Ajit's ample foreskin. She drew that soft extension into her mouth. She pushed the cock-cover back over the throbbing, purple-red, glistening head

with her tongue, lowered her head until half the length of the distended, thick cock was in her mouth. Ajit groaned at the sensations her lips, mouth and tongue were infusing throughout his whole being.

Then the engorged cock-head touched the back of her mouth, she withdrew slightly, took a deep breath and plunged all the way down onto that thick, firm, trembling muscle. He gasped.

Her hands roamed over his belly and one slipped up, under his shirt to one of his erect nipples. He, aiding her, unbuttoned and slipped out of his shirt so that she might have an unimpeded access to his bare torso.

She withdrew and then lowered her mouth again, her cheeks rhythmically dimpling as she sucked that trembling, tense cock. Ajit's eroticized body twitched with desire. He sat up, reached over her pistoning head and pulled her beaded sweater up over her head. She disengaged her mouth to accommodate the passing of her sweater and immediately returned to her lascivious sucking. Pushing back the sheath she moved her lips down to the half-length of the crest-exposed cock, gently she clamped her lips over the loose skin and orally drug it back over the cock-head. She inserted her hot tongue-tip into the fluted opening and encircled the encased head. Then she traced her tongue down the under edge to his pendulous ball-sack. Slowly, she began to lick that soft wrinkled pouch. She savored with her sensitive tongue the ovoid forms inside. Cautiously, she sucked one into her mouth and tongued its shape.

Ajit arched his back and whipped his head back and forth in response to her hot mouth. Again, he raised up and attempted to pleasure her with his hands. Gently, she pushed him back against the pillows, looked up at him and smiled.

Once more she bent her head over his cock, her tongue snaked out and licked the ruffled tip. The tongue traced a course down the top-side of the shaft and up the underside, coming again to the opening. Her lips came into contact with the sheath, a downward movement exposed the the cock-head within the warm, moist confines of her mouth. She inhaled the shaft down her throat, her tongue flicking over the surface of that imprisoned muscle.

Ajit rolled his eyes in heated arousal as she began to rhythmically move up and down the whole length of his cock. Slowly, at first and then more insistently, she piston-sucked his cock. He tensed and relaxed his buttocks in consort with her movements. Then as he began to climb the pinnacle his thrusting too became insistent until he arched his hips off the bed, yelled, "ARGHHHH . . . . " Shooting, copiously, his pearly gism into her mouth.

He collapsed down on the bed, and so doing his still hard cock popped out of Cynthia's mouth. Through sex-glazed eyes he regarded the open-mouthed smile on her face, and a drop of cum at its corner. He pulled her to him, kissed the corner, tasted his salty cum and held her tightly against his chest. Her hands encircled his heaving chest and she, too, held him. He marveled at the feelings she had engendered, her expertness in stimulating him thus and the fact that, before this night, she had never sucked him to the point of coming. Her earlier ministrations coupled with the warmth of her body lulled him into a deep satisfied sleep.

He awoke early the next morning, refreshed and cozy under the bed covers. He stretched and turned to Cynthia. . . her place beside him was empty. He sat up, looked a about, he could not see her. He turned his head, her pillow was smooth, it had not been touched.

"Cynthia," he called out. Quickly, he threw aside the covers, swung out of bed and called her name again. He hastily searched the small apartment. She was not there!

He sat on the edge of the sofa, trying to force his mind into complete consciousness and attempted to neutralize the dark presentiment, the deep foreboding that he was experiencing. He stood up went to the bathroom and quickly stepped into the shower. Later, towel dry and wrapped, be returned to the kitchen to prepare his obligatory morning cup of coffee. As he reached for the Melita he saw a white enveloped stuffed into its wide opening. He took it out, saw his name scrawled across the front, it was Cynthia's hand, ripped it open and removed the single, folded sheet of paper.

It read, "My dearest Ajit, I love you. I'm sorry. Goodbye." Her signature ended the terse message.

Not comprehending he read it again: My dearest Ajit, I love you. I'm sorry. Goodbye, Cynthia

He stood in stunned silence. Quickly he dressed and went to the concierge's office. There he found that she had come down at about 2:00 am, with her bag and asked him to call her a taxi for the train station. His brother from Lucerne had been there, had offered to take her to the station and waited with her bag while she purchased a ticket to Paris: the concierge informed him. Then added with a shrug, "L'amour, toujour l'amour. . . . Quel dommage!.

He returned to the apartment confused, pole-axed. He had been shocked to his core.

At ten o'clock he went to the Ritz-Grande, inquired about the Colewoods and was informed that they were breakfasting on the terrace. He found them sitting at a table overlooking the Ritz-Grande's beautiful garden.

"Excuse me Sir, . . . Madame," he interrupted formally, "But, have you seen or talked to Cynthia since last evening?" They both looked at him with some surprise.

"No, my dear we haven't," Mrs. Colewood was the first to speak.

"Is there some problem? " Morgan Colewood asked.

"She apparently left Geneva, early this morning for Paris. . . . without telling me," Ajit answered.

"I see. . . . Well, apparently she had her reasons," Colewood stated matter of fatly.

Ajit glanced over to Mrs. Colewood, composed and cool. She smiled and declared, "I wouldn't worry Mr. Miller. I'm sure she knows what she's doing. . . . However, she said nothing to us. You know she rarely informs us of her activities."

"I'm sorry, young man, there's nothing we can do," Colewood added in a manner that made Ajit aware that the brief interview had been terminated.

"Yes," Ajit assented and with a cynical smile continued, "Please, forgive me. I'm sorry I bothered you. Goodbye." So saying he turned and left the two looking after him.

"Well, apparently she took our advice after all," Colewood noted with some satisfaction, returning to his coffee.

"You gave her absolutely no choice, Morgan," she smiled nodding to her husband.

"It would not have worked. As you said, it was totally wrong. Besides, she was besotted. You understand that, Elyse."

"Of course I do. Even though he is well educated, with impeccable manners, when the investigator reported to me of his background, his parentage, I knew he would never really work . . . in our set," she added, smiled and continued, "I can see why, however, Cynthia fell in love with him. Lord knows he's as handsome as the devil and I'm sure he has all the right equipment," she chuckled and added as a post script, ". . . and probably in abundance judging by his opulent crotch."

"Really, Elyse, you can be so . . . crude," he said, with some force.

She smiled maliciously at her husband, "It's a known fact, Morgan, that some marry for sex. . . and others . . . marry for money." The last phrase she emphasized. His face reddened.

They finished their breakfast in silence.

Two weeks later, Ajit had returned to Chicago, having finished his research. Between Cynthia's disappearance and his return he had spent hours on the phone trying to contact her. Her apartment-mate said that she knew nothing, however, Ajit suspected that she knew a great deal and would divulge nothing to him. Several other of her friends stated that they had neither seen nor heard from Cynthia since before she had flown to Europe. He had found out from the University's Registrar that she had withdrawn from school. She had forcibly, willfully and completely absented herself from his life.

The loss that he had felt was akin to the pain he experienced when his parents had died. Except, this time it was a bit more painful as he knew nothing, not why, not where, NOTHING!

He had been plunged into a deep void. He did what he had to do without emotion, mechanically, as a robot.

One Friday night, some weeks after his return to Chicago, he felt the urge to get out of his apartment. It was, in fact, a subconscious need to join the living , . . . to began living. His grieving was not over, but he could no longer allow it to consume him.

So he decided to go to The New French Cafe, a chic little restaurant on the Near-North-Side for dinner. He taxied to it on Toronto and walked in. The Maitre d' gazed at him, his nostrils flared and he inquired, "Can I help you?"

"A table for one, please, . . . . dinner," he answered as he glanced around the room. It was nearly full. The sound of conversation and the piped-in strains of some Mozart quartet filled the dimly lit room. He was seated at a small table covered with an impeccable linen cloth and set with rather good china, crystal and flatware. The superfluous napkin and tableware was removed.

"May I interest you in . . . ah . . . a drink, Sir," the Maitre d' gushed a little too obviously.

"Yes, a Chopin martini," he answered, glancing at the menu, not acknowledging the Maitre d's presence. He really wasn't really being rude, he just didn't want to be cruised.

"Of course, Sir, very good," he answered, understanding that he was being rebuffed.

The martini was served on a small plate with a cloth doily. Its cool pungency was delicious. He began to read the menu--not extensive but quite interesting--then the wine-list--also not extensive but good--and he reread the menu, trying to decide what he would have. He had nearly finished his martini when the Maitre d' brought him a fresh drink, and announced, "Compliments from the gentleman at the window."

Ajit glanced over to a middle aged man who nodded back to him and raised his own glass in salute. Ajit returned the nod. He seemed vaguely familiar, he searched his recall but Ajit could not place his face.

"Who is that gentleman?" Ajit asked.

"I don't know Sir," came the reply. "Do you want me to inquire?"

"No that won't be necessary, Please thank him for me."

After the message had been delivered the gentleman rose up and came to Ajit's table. He held out his hand and said, "Pardon my intrusion, but you're Ajit Miller aren't you?"

Ajit, shook his hand, saying, "Yes, I am, but forgive me you are familiar, but I can't remember your name."

"I'm Bryon Bradford," he answered.

"Oh, yes, of course," he answered, still not being able to meaningfully place either name or face, "How are you?"

"You still don't recognize me, do you?" the older man said, smiling.

"No, . . . I'm sorry. Please forgive me," Ajit admitted flashing an embarrassed grin.

"We met . . . briefly a couple of years ago. . . A party . . . at my apartment in Madison. . ."

Then everything fell into place. "Oh, yes. Now I remember," he admitted and added, "Quite an interesting party, as I recall. Have you had any more . . . gatherings?" he asked with a twinkle in his eye.

Bryon chuckled, "No, I'm afraid not. That was rather an aberrant time in my life," he admitted. "Well, I don't want to interrupt you any longer." He held out his hand again and stated, "Nice seeing you again."

Again Ajit shook his hand, smiled and glanced to where Bryon had been sitting. He saw that the table, like his, was set for one, and asked. "Are you dining alone?"

"Yes, yes I am."

"Well then, please, join me the menus and the wine list looks too good to eat alone."

"Thank you, I'd like that," and he sat down.

Ajit asked the Maitre d' to, "Bring Mr. Bradford's drink over to this table, he'll be joining me for dinner."

They fell into an easy conversation, generalities, really at first. Ajit told of his studies, travel and research and Bryon of his small business and travels--all this while they ate a delicious dinner, drank a bottle of excellent wine and were finally sipping snifters of cognac. The wine and the cognac loosened their reserve and Bryon related that after twenty years of marriage, he and his wife had had a devastating divorce. That had happened about eight months before 'The Party.' Ajit acknowledged that he suspected a dilemma. "Divorce probably could create its own kind of 'aberrant times.'"

Bryon smiled, recognizing the reference. Ajit then related his own more recent kind of loss. Bryon listened with concern. "I don't know what's worse? An awful divorce or your kind of loss." Then his brows knitted, and he asked, "What did you say Cynthia's last name was?"

"Colewood."

"Would she happen to be from Virginia?"

"Yes, she is." Ajit's interest was peaked.

"Her father wouldn't happen to be Morgan Colewood, by any chance?"

"Yes, he is. Do you know him?" Ajit questioned.

"I was introduced once . . . way out of my league, but I know his reputation. A tiger, a real tiger."

Ajit sat forward, "What do you know of his wife?" he pressed.

"Nothing much, only that she came from old and a considerable amount of money. Apparently Morgan was a pauper in contrast. That's all I know"

Their conversation then shifted again to other generalities. Finally, Bryon pushed back from the table, and said, "Ajit, this has been a pleasure. . . meeting you again." He stood up and again offered his hand, saying, "If you're ever in Madison again, call me, we'll have dinner again."

Ajit stood up took his hand, and answered, "Thank you, I'd like that, Bryon" and then with a wry smile asked, "Dinner you say, no party?"

They both laughed heartily.