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agony, Aaron fell away from her. He collapsed amid shreds
and shards and strangling runners of greenery that surged
up immediately around him as he dropped to his back,
seeming to swallow him alive.
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Pirouette
His hands scrabbled. Weakly scrabbled, desperately
seeking to find the place where she d induced such
suffering. And once they found, they sought to massage. To
ease, when they were clearly incapable of any kind of
coherent, useful action.
He groaned again. In the same heartfelt way that
expressed so clearly his capitulation to something, some
force, infinitely and terrifyingly more potent than any he
could hope to exert.
Hungry now, as greedily in need of him as she d been
terrified of him only a moment or two before, Hedy leapt
upon him. She d been seized by& something. She couldn t
explain it even to herself. She had no experience with
anything like it, therefore no knowledge of anything like it.
Passion, perhaps.
She thought this must be what the characters in the soap
operas referred to as passion on those rare and infrequent
occasions when Daddy was absent or otherwise indisposed
and she had a chance to sneak a look at one or another of
them.
Whatever it was, it was certainly electrifying. It had
taken her over so that she could scarcely see, scarcely
think, and could not reason at all.
God damn! Aaron shouted, and this time the profanity
didn t bother her.
She guessed she no longer minded because she had other
things on her mind. So many other things, all kinds of
things.
Falling upon Aaron, her hands finding the glorious and
straight, creamy-hued column of his shaft, she cradled it
between palms that ached& quite literally ached& to feel
the silken pulse jolting deep beneath translucently pale,
blue-veined skin. Somewhere down near the heart and
center of him. She ached to feel the astonishing heat he
40
Evelyn Starr
radiated, too& felt like someone too long denied every
form of heat, every form of life-giving sustenance,
someone worried that even if heat and sustenance should be
returned to her, it would be too late. She might be too
frozen and starved, too far gone, to partake even when she
needed so desperately to partake.
She ran his shaft gently between hands she folded into
an attitude strangely reminiscent of holy prayer. Hands she
held flat and palm to palm, barely far enough apart to allow
the enlarged girth of him to pass between, Hands that
exerted no small amount of the snug drag that seemed
always to aggravate him and weaken him.
Hedy stroked him& did more than simply stroke him.
She caused him to jump spasmodically. To lengthen
again, hardening even more and straining ever more in
response to her caresses. Caused the rounded, finely
molded tip of him to seek earnestly in the midst of all those
thrashings, desperate for what it badly wanted, yet could
never seem to find.
Sighing, Aaron closed his eyes. Shuddering deeply, with
the lowest moan yet, he gave up all effort to use his hands
or even to control them. He let them simply drift where
they wanted to go& back to his sides. Let his long and
gleaming fingers become enmeshed, much as they d earlier
been in her hair, in his billowing bed of shrubbery.
Pulling at the leaves and vines in his grasp, Aaron
tugged at them. He tugged hard, exhaling a long, whistling,
shudder of sheer anguish.
Shit, he breathed as she moved her hands slowly over
him. And then Hedy! when she picked up their speed a
little. Just as an experiment. Only an experiment.
In reply, Hedy laughed.
Her feeling of power was immense. So immense she had
no words to express it, or ability to explain it.
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Pirouette
The power simply was.
Simply was delightful.
When she d first spotted him, not in the initial, queasy
instant when she d become aware through some odd
pricking of instinct and sixth sense that someone lurked in
the bushes behind her, but later, when she d ripped the
interlaced branches apart to reveal him, she d thought he
was a college boy. The kind who came down to the beach
as regular as the tides on sunny summer or autumn
weekends in their red, or black, or silver convertibles. The
kind of boys& men& whose lovely, almost universally fair
hair blew back in the breeze of their travel, who wore tan
pants pressed to a crease so sharp that Myra down at the
Seashore Deli could use them to fine-shave the ham Hedy
bought every Sunday morning for Daddy s evening
sandwich.
College boys. Some of them older. Some no longer in
school, but working in brokerage houses or investment
firms or even in junior levels of government over in
Washington. Laughing men-boys in tan pants and the
brightly colored pullover shirts they seemed required to
wear with them. Men-boys who never stopped in all their
glamorous, languorous pursuits to notice a starry-eyed little
local nobody like Hedy Chapin. Who never took the time
even to give her a passing glance. Because on her battered
old bicycle with the faded plastic basket trimmed with
drooping pink flowers she d bought at the Dollar Isle, she
was so very obviously not one of them. Not of their class at
all.
Yet somehow, here she was.
Through some inconceivable accident of fate she d
caught one of them. At least for this little while.
Aaron was one of them.
He was a college boy.
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Evelyn Starr
He was at her mercy.
And she meant to exercise to the maximum the power
she d so stunningly, inexplicably gained over him.
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Pirouette
CHAPTER FIVE
aron figured he d give Hedy her moment.
AIt was a technique that had worked well in the past.
He d give up a little, give up the very bare minimum he d
be required to give in order to get the results he wanted.
Then he d reap his rewards. And come out, as always, the
unqualified winner.
For a little while, things had been proceeding right on
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