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to be momentarily content to stare at the bristling bush which covered it. Without stopping in her dance, she pulled her blouse up, and now was naked except for bra and garter belt.
    “Classic,” he said. He reached down beside the couch and took out a Polaroid camera. “This may interest you,” he said in an oddly professional voice. Before she could protest, the flash had gone off, and the timer on the back of the camera was buzzing off fifteen seconds.
    “Here we go,” he told her, and peeled off the wrapping to reveal a picture of herself, looking like the cover of one of the books sold by his publishing house. She blinked. “Is that me?” she asked. The woman she looked at appeared so sexy, so voluptuous, so willing for any experience, that Joan could not relate the image to herself.
    “‘Life imitates art,’” Lou Morris said and smiled to himself.
    He took the picture from her hands and put it on the table next to the couch. “Get on your belly,” he told her. “We’ll take more pictures later.”
    “Yes,” she said, her voice trembling.
    She rolled over and pressed the front of her body against the couch. She began to pump her pelvis against the leather, feeling the mounting heat and tension as her cunt pushed into the soft hardness. The picture she had just looked at would not leave her consciousness, and she began to be aware of herself as she looked from the outside. Her young lithe body framed in a frilly bra and belt. Her ass exposed and circled by the elastic straps. Her hair falling down her naked back. And her cunt pressing frantically into the couch, silently begging to be touched, to be fucked. Lou moved next to her. “So nice,” he said, “it’s so good to let it all hang out, isn’t it?” And to punctuate his remark he put one hand on the cleft between her buttocks, lightly, his middle finger dipping down to touch the unguarded hole at the core. She clenched her ass tightly and trapped his finger, and then let loose, arching her pelvis so that her ass rose high in the air. And then clenched again, so that it became like a mouth rising and falling to pull in the desired food.
    She lifted her head and found herself staring at the giant bulge in his pants. She made a low sound that was unlike anything she had ever heard come from herself before, and checked it. Lou grabbed her ass more firmly and began to move even lower, toward the already yearning cunt that opened each time she raised her hips. “Let it go,” he said. “You can do anything you want with me. I’ve had thousands of woman where you are now. And you all do the same thing. It’s all one cunt, one ass, one pair of tits, one mouth, wanting the same thing. Don’t be ashamed or think you’re any different. Let it happen and let me watch. It’s all I really want from you, you know, to see you when you’re really naked, and really beautiful.”
    She sobbed again. “Lick it through the cloth,” he said.
    She pressed her face into him. Her tongue found a life of its own and curled around the tube, finding the ridges around the head of his cock. She licked up and down the entire length, sensing the difference between the rough fabric and the swelling softness underneath. Added to the sensations was the picture of herself, her young innocent face buried in the crotch of this old man, this stranger for whom sex was an amusement that had to do with aesthetics only, and didn’t care who the personalities involved happened to be. She thrashed more wildly against the couch, her need growing, her ass a sea of convulsive movement, as she forced herself more deeply into his thighs.
    “Oh please,” she moaned.
    “Please what?” he asked.
    “Please give it to me,” she whispered.
    “Where do you want it?” he went on, teasing her.
    “Put it in my mouth, in my ass. Stick it in my cunt. Just give it to me.” It seemed that she was the vacuum that nature is reported to abhor, and she cried out to be filled. She didn’t