Climbing the Rock

Chapter 9B: Rebellious Souls

They met with Steve Crow. He was a young, hip-talking man in a loud but fashionable suit. He had long platinum blonde hair styled in punk rock fashion. He wore sunglasses even though he was indoors. He was intelligent and articulate and he sat and went over each of the previously rejected tracks with them, rating each on its relative merits.

"The only one you're absolutely forbidden to record is Its In The Book," he told them.

"Which is one of our best songs ever," Matt said sourly.

"Hey, guys," Steve said. "I'm trying to work with you here. I agree it's a bitchin tune, but the bosses say no go on that one. That's the only thing they're standing firm on."

In the end, they picked two of Matt's songs and one of Jake's — all of them the more recent numbers — songs they'd written after maturing a bit by performing at D Street West. That gave them a complete list of ten tunes for the next album, every one of them an Intemperance original.

"Looks like we're set," Steve told them. "I'll get Bailey and his merry men working on a song order and an album title right away. In the meantime, I want you guys to be prepared to start hitting the studio in two weeks. That means lots of rehearsals, okay? Janice's publicity trips aside, I'd like you to do at least four hours a day in your warehouse. Tune that sound in tighter than a schoolgirl's ass."

"You got it," Matt said.

Steve smiled, shook their hands again, and then dismissed them.

As they rode the elevator down to the lobby level, Matt asked, "What do you think? Did they cave to us, or are they raising up a hammer to drop on our fuckin heads."

"They caved," Jake said. "Doolittle was trying to make it seem that all of the resistance was just Acardio's little quirks."

"Which is a bunch of bullshit," Matt said.

"Agreed. But that was just their face-saving measure to make it seem like we didn't really win."

"But we did."

"Yeah," Jake said. "I think we did."

Matt grinned. "Let's get the rest of the guys together tonight and go hit the Flamingo. This is a cause for celebration."

Jake and Mindy were not able to get together much. Mindy was still heavily promoting Thinner Than Water, which had been released across the country and was currently the most popular movie in theaters, and Jake was spending at least a portion of every day rehearsing the ten tunes they were to record. They were able to talk on the phone almost every night and usually spent at least an hour doing so. Manny no longer bothered enquiring who was calling when she called (she never told him) and had stopped trying to backhandedly pry the information out of Jake.

Still, there were a few times where their schedules did coincide and they were able to make each other's acquaintance. When this happened, she would always park a few blocks away from his building and he would simply walk out the door without giving anything like advanced notice to Manny. Manny learned not to ask or to try to stop him, although Jake had no doubt he was still calling up Steve Crow to let him no another AWOL session was taking place.

The two times they did get together, Mindy drove him up to her place. The first was an almost exact repeat of their first date. They went horseback riding up into the hills, had a picnic next to the stream, and spent a few minutes making out on the blanket. Though this make-out session was a little heavier and a little longer lasting, she allowed him to progress no further than kissing her neck and stroking her bare legs. He rode back for an hour with a throbbing case of blue balls.

The second time they skipped the horseback riding and instead went for a long drive in her Porsche through the hills and canyons of rural Los Angeles County. Jake took the wheel for this and she navigated, directing him from back road to back road until he was hopelessly lost and disoriented. She, however, seemed to know the area like the back of her hand and unerringly led him to a dead-end lookout eight hundred feet above a place called Fish Canyon. The view was very impressive. It was a rugged, narrow canyon with a small river running down the middle of it. They were also utterly alone. They spent a few minutes enjoying the view and nearly an hour enjoying the sensation of each other's bodies pressed together, their tongues in each other's mouths, their hands touching bare legs and bare stomachs, but staying well away from anything else. She did allow Jake to briefly feel her left breast through her shirt — and a fine breast it was — but she called an end to the session when he tried to unbutton her shirt.

He kept his humor up as they drove back to her house. Though it was frustrating beyond belief, and though his balls were not appreciating the forced congestion too much, he relished the challenge and the underlying romance of this relationship. It had been a very long time indeed since a girl had made him work his way up the sexual ladder and the novelty of it was something he both appreciated and respected.

On the way back to her house that day she did something that was slightly out of character. She stopped at a mom and pop restaurant in a small, rural town called Sleepy Valley and insisted that they go inside and have dinner.

"Do you think that's a good idea?" he asked. "I mean, I know it's a small town but people will see us together. Aren't we supposed to be avoiding that?"

"I stop here all the time," she said. "They know me in here. It's a nice older couple that runs the place. They would never tell anyone we were here."

And indeed the couple that ran the place did know her and Mindy addressed them affectionately by their first names. They doted over the two of them, setting them up with a farmhand style home-cooked meal complete with all the fixings. Jake had no trouble believing that the owners themselves would keep their mouths shut about their famous visitors but there were other customers in the restaurant too, and most of them spent their entire meal staring at the beautiful actress and the longhaired rock star, whispering behind closed hands. When Jake asked her about this on the drive back to his building, she simply shrugged it off.

"They're all small town folks," she said. "They know how to mind their own business. I grew up in a small town, remember?"

"I suppose," he said and then refused to worry about it any further.

And indeed, a week passed and there was no mention in the various tabloids and entertainment reports of a reported sighting of Mindy Snow and Jake Kingsley eating dinner together in a small town restaurant. Jake knew from personal experience that had there been even the slightest whisper of such a meeting to any of the various reporters who wrote for such rags that their names would have been on the front page. He should know. His name had been up there many times in the past. Whenever he went out to a club or to dinner or to virtually any other place in public, someone was always popping up out of nowhere and snapping his picture. If he met up with a girl, there would be a report on it, sometimes with a blow-by-blow description of their activities provided by the girl herself. These reports both infuriated and embarrassed Jake (although Matt — who encountered the same thing, relished them) but he knew there was nothing that could be done about it. It was yet another thing that fell under the heading of the life we choose.

During that week, Jake and Mindy were unable to get together at all, were in fact not even able to talk on the phone. Mindy had been whisked off on a tour of Florida to promote her movie and Jake took two trips himself, one to Atlanta to do a promo radio station interview, and one to Boise to sign autographs at a new record store.

The night after he returned from Boise — a Thursday night — Mindy called him at home just as he was getting to bed. She too had just got back into town and was very anxious to get together with him.

"Are you rehearsing tomorrow?" she asked.

"Yes, it's our final rehearsal day. Starting Monday we go into the studio and start recording."

"And then your schedule gets a little busier?"

"A lot busier," he said sadly. "We'll be pulling ten hour days Monday through Saturday for the foreseeable future."

"Rats," she said. "We'll hardly ever get to see each other then."

"I know," he said, a bit bummed about that himself.

"Well what time are you going to be done tomorrow?" she asked.

"We're gonna start at nine," he said. "Since it's the last day we're not going to go the full four hours. We'll probably knock off around noon or so."

"I'm totally free tomorrow," she said. "How about I meet you after you rehearse and we go to the beach together?"

"The beach?" he asked. "Isn't that kind of... you know... public?"

"Have faith in me," she said. "I'm the queen of the greater LA rural area. I know all the places where no one else goes."

He took her at her word for that and they arranged for him to make another one of his mysterious departures, this time from the rehearsal warehouse.

He climbed into her car at 12:10 PM, two blocks from the entrance to the warehouse where the two National employed security guards and the limousine driver were still puzzling over what they were supposed to do when one of their charges just walked off on them in the middle of a not-too-terribly-attractive neighborhood. While the rest of the band — all of whom knew what Jake was doing — explained that they should just mind their own fucking business, Jake drank in the sight of Mindy dressed in a pair of blue jean short shorts and a tank-top that clearly revealed the red bikini top beneath.

"You are gorgeous," Jake told her. Unable to resist, he leaned over and gave her a long, lingering kiss on the mouth.

"Mmmm," she said when the kiss finally broke. "That was nice. I missed you."

"I missed you too."

She drove off, winding expertly through gray and dingy streets, darting in and out of lunchtime traffic, and eventually accessing Interstate 10 heading west, toward the ocean. She rested her right hand on Jake's leg as she drove, removing it only when she had to change gears. They talked of their trips and the adventures they'd had on them. When they got to Santa Monica she took the offramp for Highway 1, the Pacific Coast Highway, or PCH, as it was known. She headed north on the winding, twisting coastal road, the sparkling blue Pacific to their left, a series of hills and cliffs with million dollar mansions poised upon them on their right.

They drove for miles, passing out of the densely populated area and into the more undeveloped section of seacoast (as far as such a thing was possible in southern California anyway). Less than five miles from the Ventura County line, they came to a small turnoff that led to a place called Point Dume Beach. She turned here and descended down a steep road to a white stretch of beach. It wasn't completely deserted — there were a few people walking dogs, a few surfers down by the southern end, and a small family gathering near the northern end — but for the LA area it was about as deserted as a stretch of seacoast could possibly be.

"Do I know emptiness, or what?" she asked, parking the car in a small lot.

"I am impressed," Jake admitted.

They gathered a blanket, a picnic basket, their beach bags, and a small cooler and carried it down to the beach, finding a spot to deploy that was roughly in the middle of the biggest stretch of emptiness. The nearest person to them was more than three hundred yards away.

Jake had showered, shaved, and changed his clothes before leaving the warehouse. As such, he was now wearing his swimming trunks, a pair of sandals, and a Corona T-shirt. He took the T-shirt off and tossed it in his beach bag. Mindy whistled appreciatively as he bared his chest and ran her hand softly over it.

"Nice," she said, pinching a little on his upper abdomen.

"It's all those aerobic classes and personal trainer sessions they make us go to," he said, enjoying her touch upon him.

"Oh I know how that is," she assured him. "I go three times a week for two hours. That's why I can eat all that fried food and ice cream." She shrugged. "It beats anorexia or bulimia. That's how a lot of the actresses keep their shape. That's how Veronica does it."

"Really?"

"Oh yeah," she said. "While we were filming Thinner Than Water she was off barfing in her trailer six or seven times a day sometimes. When she wasn't getting it on with her agent, that is."

Jake pondered that little bit of inside Hollywood information for a moment but lost the image of Veronica puking and munching muff the moment Mindy grasped the bottom of her tank top and pulled it over her head.

"Wow," was all he could say as he gazed upon more flesh than any Mindy Snow fan had ever seen on the big screen or on television. Her bikini top was certainly not risqué, but it wasn't terribly conservative either. Her perfectly rounded breasts molded the red cups with a form that could only be considered excellence personified. And when she undid her shorts and pushed them down, showing the almost skimpy bikini bottoms, Jake had to fight to keep from drooling.

"What do you think?" Mindy asked, seeing his interest. "Is my workout regiment effective?"

"You're beautiful," Jake said. "You're an absolute work of art."

She gave him her shy smile. "Would you mind rubbing some sunscreen on this work of art? I wouldn't want to burn it."

He didn't mind at all. In fact, he had to fight furiously to keep from springing an embarrassing bulge in his shorts as he slathered the coconut scented liquid over her shoulders and back, going from her neck all the way down to the top of her bikini bottoms. Her skin was soft and silky and oh so smooth. He longed to put his mouth on it but held off for the time being.

"Should I do the front too?" he asked when he'd rubbed and touched her as much as he could get away with.

She giggled. "I think I can get that part myself," she said. And she did, but the sight of her rubbing lotion into the tops of her breasts and her smooth stomach and her sexy legs was almost more erotic than touching her with his hands.

When she was completely covered with sun block, she offered to do him as well. He gladly turned his back to her and spent a very pleasurable five minutes feeling her soft hands slide over his flesh, rubbing oil on his shoulders, his back, his neck.

"You can do my front," he offered once the job was complete.

She smiled and dropped the bottle of lotion into his hands. "I would," she said, "but you might think I was taking advantage of you."

"Spoilsport," he said.

Once he was as oiled as she, they broke into the picnic basket. Inside they found roasted turkey sandwiches, potato salad, and fresh cantaloupe slices, all prepared by Carmella. That ate the food and washed it all down with ice cold cokes. They then lay down next to each other and listened to the crashing of the waves on the shore. Jake wanted to hold her hand but she kept it firmly atop her stomach, out of his reach.

In all, they stayed for almost three hours, mostly just laying around and talking, but occasionally going out into the surf to play a little. They dodged waves and picked up shells. They did some body surfing until a particularly ferocious wave picked Jake up and slammed him down into the sand hard enough to knock the wind out of him. They walked up and down the length of the beach a few times, taking care to stay as far away as possible from any of the other beachgoers, outside of what Mindy called the "zone of recognition". And while they touched each other a few times while in the surf, they did not kiss or make out. And while they held hands while walking on the beach, they did not embrace here either.

"It's too public of a setting," Mindy told him the one time he'd tried to kiss her.

"But there's nobody else around," he said.

"I know, but its better safe than sorry." She offered him a seductive look. "There will be time for that later."

He tried no further, pacified by the implied promise she'd offered.

They climbed into the Porsche just after four o'clock, Jake behind the wheel this time. They were still wearing their wet bathing suits — although Mindy had put her tank top back on — so they sat on their towels to protect the seats.

"Let's go to my place," Mindy told him. "Do you know the way?"

He didn't actually, but she was glad to direct him. As he piloted the car through the winding roads Mindy snuggled up next to him, resting her head on his shoulder, her hand on his leg. A few times, during the straightaway portions, she would angle her head upward and give him soft, drawn out kisses on the mouth. They talked little, and what conversation they did have was of unimportant things. Jake didn't mind. He was immensely enjoying the feel of her body against his.

They pulled into her garage just before five o'clock. When they entered the house, Carmella was nowhere to be found but the smell of roasting meat came from the kitchen.

"Mmmm," Mindy said, sniffing the air. "Her pot roast. Its one of my favorites."

"It smells delicious," Jake said.

"Wait until you taste it. But in the meantime, I really need a shower. I'm all icky with sunscreen."

"Me too," Jake said. "Do you mind if I hit your guest bathroom?"

"You could," she said thoughtfully. "But we are in the middle of a drought, you know."

"Huh?"

She blushed, her eyes looking downward shyly. "Well... in the interests of water conservation, maybe we should... you know... shower together."

Jake felt a flush passing through his body, along with a surge of blood rushing into his nether regions. "Uh... sure," he said. "I think that would be very environmental of us."

She led him upstairs, to her bedroom, closing the door behind her. They went to the master bathroom just beyond it. The shower stall was huge, encased by glass, tiled in dark granite. She opened the door and turned on the water taps, bringing it to life. Within seconds, steam began rise. After taking two large, fluffy towels from the linen shelf and hanging them on hooks just outside the shower door, she turned to him, her shy look still upon her face.

"Shall we get in?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied. "I think we should."

She gave a slight smile and reached behind her, unfastening her bikini top. She let it drop to the floor, baring her perfect breasts to his eyes. They were uniformly tan, the tone matching the rest of her skin. Her nipples were erect, pushing outward insistently. While he was still drinking in the sight of them, she put her hands on her hips and pushed her bikini bottoms down, kicking them off with her foot. Her flesh here was tanned as well, her pubic hair black but sparse, the edges neatly trimmed.

"There is a God," Jake said, his eyes looking her up and down while she blushed.

"Now its your turn," she whispered.

He pulled the string on his trunks, untying the knot, and then pushed them down. His penis was about three quarters erect and rapidly working towards full-blown diamond cutter status. Her eyes dropped to it and she smiled. She turned and stepped into the shower, putting her body beneath the spray. He stepped in behind her and closed the door.

The water was hot and stinging, almost hot enough to burn. He put his arms around her and pulled her against him, kissing her hotly on the lips, feeling her breasts against his chest, feeling his hard-on pushing into her stomach, feeling her sexy legs touching his. She slid her tongue into his mouth, returning the kiss with passion, her own hands dropping to touch his ass, her fingernails scratching over it. She only held the kiss for a few moments however, before she pushed him away.

"Let's get clean," she said, grabbing a large sponge from a shelf and a bar of soap that smelled like fresh watermelon. She handed them to him. "Would you do the honors?"

"By all means," he said.

He soaped up the sponge and ran it over her body, soaping her thoroughly and completely, washing between her breasts, atop her breasts, and feeling her hard, slippery nipples gliding across his forearm. He soaped her smooth stomach, dipping all the way down to the top of her pubic hair, watching as rivulets of soap ran down through her bush and onto her thighs. She held her arms up and he washed her armpits. She then turned around so he could do her back. He kissed the back of her neck as he soaped her back. She pulled her hair out of the way so he could have better access. She hummed contentedly as his tongue licked at her, as his teeth nipped at her, as his erection nestled into the top of her butt.

She turned around in his arms, her body now flushed, her breath a little ragged. "The top half is clean," she told him.

"Yeah," he said. "Guess I should do the bottom half now."

She smiled and he sank to his knees before her.

He started at the bottom here, doing her left leg and then her right, moving from the toes all the way up to the hips. She then spread her legs a little, opening her stance and giving him access to her womanhood. Her lips were swollen and bright red, as appetizing a set as he'd ever seen. He put the soapy sponge between her legs and rubbed it across, cleaning her here, watching as the spray from the shower rinsed her clean. He then dropped the sponge to the ground and put his hands on her firm ass. He pulled her forward and put his mouth directly on her vaginal lips.

"Oh... God," she moaned as he began to lick up and down. "Yes. Eat me. Eat me."

She put her right leg up on the side of the shower, opening herself up for his ministrations. He took full advantage of the situation, plunging his tongue inside of her, rubbing his face back and forth, pushing his nose into her swollen clitoris.

Her hand dropped down to the back of his head, pulling him more firmly into his target. Her legs grew wobbly, seeming like they were going to collapse before him. Somehow, she hung on, grunts and squeals and moans passing her lips as he licked and plunged with his tongue. When he took her clitoris between his lips and began to suck on it she shuddered all over.

"Oh, fuck yeah!" she squealed. "Eat that fucking clit!"

This was the first profanity he had ever heard come from her mouth. He had actually thought her incapable of uttering such words. So shocking was it that he stopped what he was doing and looked up at her.

"What the fuck are you doing?" she panted, pushing his head back between her legs. "Don't stop!"

"Sorry," he mumbled and went back to work. He began to work on her clit in earnest, lashing it with his tongue, moving his head back and forth, all the while maintaining a constant, ever-increasing suction. This action made short work of her. In less than a minute she was trembling all over. The trembles grew worse and her pelvis began to mash back and forth. Her fingers tightened in his hair and she screamed at the top of her lungs, "Oh my fucking God, yesssss! Fuck yes!"

She jerked him to his feet and attacked his mouth with hers, kissing him hotly, licking at his lips, sucking on them. Her hand dropped to his cock and began to jack it up and down, squeezing it all the while.

"That was fuckin' fab," she told him when she finally broke the kiss. "Don't ever let anyone tell you that you don't know how to eat a pussy."

"Actually, no one ever has told me that," he said, with a certain amount of pride.

She laughed and kissed him again. "Now its my turn," she said. She bent over and picked up the sponge. "Let's get you nice and clean now."

She soaped up the sponge and then rubbed it softly, sensuously over his chest and arms. When he was well lathered she stepped forward, pushing her body against his, grinding her breasts into his chest, rubbing them through the soap, tracing arcs with her nipples. He groaned in pleasure. She brought the soapy sponge to his back and began to wash there, all the while continuing to press and rub her soft flesh against his.

When she was satisfied that the upper portion of his body was clean — which took a considerable amount of time — she slowly dropped to her knees before him. With a soft smile she washed his legs one by one and then reached around to get his ass. She put a fresh application of soap on the sponge and then went after the main target. She soaped his testicles and then the shaft of his cock.

"You like that?" she asked as her slippery hand jacked up and down upon him.

"Uh huh," he agreed.

She dropped the sponge and turned him a little, so the water ran over his groin and washed all the soap away.

"There," she said. "Nice and clean now. Let's see if it passes the taste test."

She licked slowly up the shaft, swirled her tongue a few times around the head, and then licked down the other side. She sucked his balls into her mouth one by one, tonguing them a few times before releasing them. She then put her mouth back on his cock and slowly deep-throated him.

"Ohhhh," Jake moaned as he felt her bottom out. "Nice."

"Mmmm hmmm," she hummed as she pulled her mouth back off and softly sucked on the head.

She put her hands on his ass and squeezed while her mouth started to suck and release, suck and release, applying just the right amount of friction and suction to impart a delicious sensation. Jake began to suspect that this was not the first time she had performed this particular act. She began to speed up her actions, sucking a little harder, bobbing her head faster and faster, sucking further down with each stroke she made, developing a rhythm designed not just to pleasure but to bring him off.

"Your gonna make me come," Jake warned, just in case that was not her goal.

"Mmmm hmmm," she repeated, increasing her suction and her speed yet again.

Jake had learned a considerable amount about the art of sexuality over the years, including how to maintain tight control over his orgasm. Through practice he had learned to hold himself at bay almost indefinitely. But he also knew that when a woman was giving a blowjob, and expressed intent to perform said blowjob to completion, that was not the proper time to be holding one's self off. In fact, the faster you could let yourself go, the better. With Mindy, it didn't take very long. She already knew to keep up a constant, steady rhythm with lots of stimulation to the head. Jake employed no mental blocks to keep himself under control and he moved rapidly towards orgasm, his hips starting to thrust against her after less than two minutes.

And then he looked down at her. Her pretty, innocent face was looking directly up at him as she sucked, her eyes staring into his. This was the face of Mindy Snow — the Mindy Snow! It was not a woman who resembled her, it was actually her! This was the cute girl in the long hoop skirts he had watched grow up on that campy, family values show The Slow Lane, a show in which she had been known to use phrases such as "gee willikers" and "goodness gracious" and, occasionally, when she was really mad, "for Pete's sake!". A girl whose greatest dilemma with the opposite sex in five seasons was whether or not she should allow Dustin Jerkins, the boy she had a crush on, to hold her hand when they went to the movies. This was that girl, that image of innocence and small town America personified, and she was down on her knees in the shower stall, sucking his cock like a professional. It was that face looking up at him now, that innocent face with those chocolate brown eyes and she was... she was...

"Oh shit," he grunted as the orgasm fired through his body like a nuclear reaction. His knees wobbled and he had to hold onto the sides of the shower to keep from falling. His sperm fired from his cock in hot jets and she kept sucking the entire time, never taking her eyes off his face, never letting that sweet, innocent sensation slip from her own.

When the last vestiges of his climax faded away, when he was finally able to maintain his feet beneath him without holding onto something, she pulled her mouth from his member and stood up. She licked her lips a few times and kissed him.

"Do I make the grade?" she asked sweetly.

"You set the standard for the grade," he told her. "Holy shit."

She smiled again, this time not so innocently. She reached over and turned off the shower. "Let's get dried off and go to the bedroom," she told him. "We've only just begun."

They retired to the bedroom. Once there she lay naked on her back, her legs spread widely, opening herself up almost obscenely for his inspection. "Eat me some more," she told him. "Eat me raw."

He ate her raw. He put his face between her legs and did not remove it for almost thirty minutes. He licked and sucked and slurped and tongued. He slid his fingers into her body, first one and then two and then three. He brought her to orgasm after orgasm, with her screaming out guttural obscenities as each one took her over, and still she kept begging for more, demanding more. He ate her until his tongue was numb, his jaw cramping, his neck stiff and threatening to lock up on him.

Finally after orgasm number six or so, she pulled him out of her crotch. She sat up and kissed his face, licking her own juices from his mouth, his chin, his cheeks. When she finished drinking her fill of this bounty, she rolled over, positioning herself on her hands and knees, presenting her backside to him, her head facing the front of the bed, her swollen pussy gaping open for his plunder.

"Fuck me," she told him, looking over her shoulder.

He nodded, but instead of moving forward, he stood up and turned towards the bedroom door.

"What the hell are you doing?" she asked. "Fuck me!"

"I need to get a rubber," he said.

She shook her head almost violently. "No," she told him. "You don't need a rubber. I'm on the pill! It's safe!"

"But..."

"Come on!" she demanded. "I need you in me, Jake. Get up here!"

Ordinarily he would have ignored such pleas but this was not an ordinary situation. This was Mindy, the girl he had been talking to and dating — for lack of a better term — for almost a month now. Mindy was trustworthy, wasn't she? And even if she wasn't, she certainly wouldn't have any reason to lie about being on the pill, would she? Getting pregnant by Jake would be much more damaging to her than it would be to him.

He turned and climbed back on the bed.

"Yes," Mindy said. "Oh yes. Now fuck me hard! Fuck me like you hate me!"

Fuck me like you hate me? Jake wondered, a bit taken aback. What the hell kind of shit was that?

"Come on!" she demanded. "Get that cock in me! Pound me! Use me! Treat me like a fuckin' slut!"

His cock was, of course, quite hard and had been so for the past twenty-seven minutes. He didn't pause any longer to ponder the meaning of her words. He positioned himself behind her, grabbed her roughly by her hips, and slid into her body in one fluid stroke. He began to fuck her, pistoning his hips rapidly and strongly.

"Yes," Mindy cried in sheer pleasure. "Slap those balls against my ass. Oh fuck yes!"

She fucked back at him expertly and well, matching his rhythm exactly, never missing a stroke. After ten minutes of rear-entry, she pulled free and lay on her back again, this time pulling her knees up to her shoulders, opening herself as wide as possible. He fucked her in this position until both of them were sweaty and panting. For the finale she rolled Jake onto his back and climbed atop him, mounting him in the female superior position. She ground herself to one more orgasm and then began to slam her body up and down on his cock in a frenzy, sweat flying off her face, her breasts bouncing deliciously.

"Come, Jake," she panted, her fingers pinching at his nipples. "Come for me! Shoot in my body!"

He stopped holding his orgasm at bay and it only took a few seconds before he did as she asked. Like before, it was looking at her face that sent him over the edge, the sweaty, lustful, ecstatic face that belonged to the cute girl on The Slow Lane. His second orgasm was almost as powerful as the first.

They cuddled afterward, both of them naked atop the covers, letting the sweat dry from their skin. The Mindy he was familiar with — the Mindy who spoke no profane words, his voice was soft and sweet — returned within minutes.

"That was some good lovemaking," she observed. "I can see that all that practice you get in on the road really pays off."

"You were pretty good yourself," he said. "Very... uh... energetic."

She blushed furiously, unable to meet his eyes. "I do get a bit of a potty mouth when I'm... you know... doing it, don't I?"

He kissed her cheek, which still smelled very strongly of her vaginal secretions. "I wasn't quite expecting that," he admitted. "But I liked it."

She ran her fingers through the sparse hair on his chest. "You didn't think that I was... uh... a virgin or anything, did you?"

"Uhh, well... I wasn't expecting that actually, but I wouldn't have been surprised if you had been."

"My sweet, wholesome image," she said, this time with a hint of bitterness in her tone. "A lot of it just image, Jake, sad to say. I adore having sex, absolutely adore it. I haven't been a virgin since I was fourteen and the producer of The Slow Lane seduced me on the couch in his office." She shrugged. "He was pretty good too. Not as good as you, though. You're up in the top five category, I'm telling you."

"So what else is just image?" he asked her.

She giggled. "I guess you'll just have to figure that out for yourself as we go along, won't you?"

That wasn't quite the answer he was looking for, but he accepted it. What else was there to do?