No easy way out (4 page)

Time dissolved into delicious slow motion. They explored each
other with hands and fingers, mouths and tongues. The delicious
sensual stimulation each gifted the other with only enhanced their
mutual pleasure.

His palm stroked the meager satin cover from her swelling
breasts. His rough fingertips tenderly found, then teased, her
excited nipples. Her responding whimper of pleasure aroused
him.

Instead of pushing the Bandit away Virginia arched her back and
guided his dark head lower, silently urging his lips to replace his
conquering hand. The lash of his tongue against her sensitive peaks
sent sweet sensations effervescing through her blood. Primitive
passions carbonated and exploded under the erotic magic that
surrounded her.

This was madness, her mind shouted. You don't even know this
man! But that only heightened Virginia's ecstasy. Sanity's voice
drowned beneath the blistering rush of wild heat surging through
her body.

Her inquisitive fingers pressed into the working muscles of his
back and shoulders. She felt him quiver with pleasure when her
teasing tongue traced the sensitive curves of his ear and her teeth
tugged lightly at the lobe.

His insistent mouth found its way home to plunder her eager
lips. His hungry kiss absorbed her very breath and made her gasp
and shudder against his virile frame. Her soft breasts were crushed
against his hair-roughened chest and the friction of hard flesh
against silken skin gave her instant gratification.

From inside the house came the deafening sound of Big Ben
striking the witching hour: a sound that reverberated and invaded
their private world of pleasure. At the twelfth chime Virginia
found herself released. Suddenly shy, she turned away and hastily
restored her twisted bodice.

The Bandit's hands slid around her waist and pulled her back
against him. "Now we can get rid of these damn masks." His voice
was ragged as his lips nuzzled her ear. "I want to see what you
look like, my passionate Rabbit."

Her body temperature dropped ten degrees, and her pulse rate and
blood pressure plummeted below life-sustaining levels. Remove her
mask! Virginia froze; her mouth went dry; her muscles tensed. Why,
she'd sooner take off her costume and stand before him completely
naked!

It may be irrational. It may be insane. But the mask was her
shield, her protection. Without it- without it this fantasy would
end, this passionate woman would cease to exist. Names would be
applied to faces. The magic would end. She didn't want that. She
wanted to sustain the illusion-to postpone reality.

She was suddenly cold sober and completely sensible. All right,
mental wizard, Virginia challenged herself. Think of something.
Think of a way out of this mess. Think of a way to be safe and
free.

Virginia turned in the Bandit's arms, her eyes gleaming in the
moonlight. "Why don't we make a little game of it." Her voice
caressed him with coy persuasion while her fingers walked a
titillating path across his bare chest to the base of his throat.
At his arched brow Virginia gave a light flirtatious laugh and
pulled him toward the balcony railing. "Untie your mask, but don't
turn around until you count to five."

"All things considered, don't you think this is a little silly,"
came his dry rejoinder.

"Oh, darling Bandit, it is a party." She fluttered her lashes
and pouted prettily. "Humor me, please."

He sighed and gave a resigned shrug. "All right, honey, but I'm
a fast counter."

Virginia gave him a warm smile and pressed a quick kiss at the
corner of his handsome mouth. Her last smile was the brightest, the
last kiss the sweetest.

She moved to stand behind him, carefully edging back toward the
marble staircase that led to the grounds. She watched his fingers
move to unknot the scarf mask, then she slipped off her high heels,
turned, and silently fled down the steps.

Her feet were swift, sure vehicles carrying her down the
twisting incline. Bramble bushes reached out and snagged her body
as if to block her escape.

Virginia heard his shout and quickly increased her speed. The
queue of cars loomed before her like a massive metal serpent. She
ran in the direction of Diane's yellow VW, crouching low when she
heard the ringing of the Bandit's shoes on the pavement and the
increasing anger in his voice. Bumpers and fenders shielded her
from his view; her stockings were tattered silken threads that were
welded to her perspiration-soaked legs.

Virginia sneaked a look and relaxed when she spied the Bandit's
tall figure turn and run in the opposite direction. Quickly she
pulled open the car door and slithered into the cramped backseat.
She yanked the bunny ears from her hair and pulled an old blanket
over her trembling body. Here she lay, uncomfortably curled on the
tiny seat, gnawing her lip till it bled, and praying the Bandit
would give up his search.

CHAPTER THREE

"I've brought my own coffee. I've tasted yours," a disgustingly
cheerful voice announced.

A pair of bleary, mascara-glued eyes squinted in hurtful
contemplation at the shining stainless-steel percolator. Virginia
stumbled over the rumpled foyer rug and fell against the door. Her
swollen tongue tried to moisten a mouth that tasted like a million
Q-Tips. "What . . . what time is it?" The words irritated her vocal
chords.

"Nearly noon," Diane Stephens answered promptly. She strode
across the darkened living room and broke open the tight cocoon of
drapes, letting the lilac walls bloom in the sun. She eyed her
friend's twisted, inside-out wine cotton housecoat over misbuttoned
matching pajamas with amusement. "Ginger, you're going to have to
party more often; no one gets hangovers anymore." Her tongue
clicked against the roof of her mouth. "Come on, girl, a couple of
cups of caffeine will perk you right up."

Virginia pushed her tumbled brown hair back off her face. Her
fingers stuck to the strands and came away streaked with spray
gold. She groaned loudly. "I feel like death warmed over." Her bare
feet shuffled a path through the white shag carpet into the dining
room. "It was all those Kamikazes. The Japanese could've won the
war with that drink." She collapsed onto an antique pink side
chair, yawned, then closed her eyes. The blond, red-jump-suited
figure continued to dart in and out of the kitchenette clanking
cups and spoons.

Diane wriggled into an opposite chair, slid one steaming cup
toward Virginia, and lit a cigarette. "Well?"

"Well what?" A pair of dull, iridescent blue eyes peered into
the aromatic liquid and tried to find ambition and comfort in the
dark depths.

Diane made a hissing sound. "I've been on pins and needles for
the last eleven and a half hours. You were tight as the proverbial
clam last night. I want to know why you were hiding in the backseat
of my car." She sucked in a lungful of low tar and nicotine smoke.
"I want to hear everything."

"Everything?" Virginia shuddered and drained her coffee in three
burning swallows. She held out her mug for a refill and drank the
second cup more cautiously. Caution, she winced in silence. What
happened to that last night?

"God, Ginger, you can be maddening." Diane counted to ten,
sipped her coffee, and tried another approach. "I was watching you.
Don't try to tell me you weren't having fun last night. That wasn't
why you ran."

"No." Virginia exhaled forcefully and rubbed a weary hand over
her drawn features. "That wasn't why I ran." She leaned against the
ladder-back chair frame and took a deep breath. "You're right, I
was having fun, more fun than I've had in a long time-a lifetime,"
came her truthful confession.

"Tell me what happened."

"I needed some air, all that smoke and the music and the noise.
I was out on the balcony when
he
appeared."

"He, who?" Diane straightened attentively, her dark blue eyes
wide and bright.

"The Bandit. He said he was Quimby's houseguest," Virginia
explained. Her fingers drummed thoughtfully on the pink antique
table. "Didn't you see him inside?" she asked. "About six foot,
dressed in black with a scarf eye mask and a Spanish riding hat?"
Her voice slowed and became more expressive. "Nice straight nose,
smoky blue eyes, silver wings of hair at his temples." Virginia's
eyes shifted to stare at the oriental wallpaper, her cheeks taking
on a stain of ruby wine. "Broad shoulders, deep voice, great
after-shave and the most sensuous mouth." A soft musical sigh
escaped her lips.

"I wish I did," Diane echoed that sigh. "So?"

Virginia looked at her and blinked. "So what?"

A short scream pierced the room. "You are so ... oo dense! What
happened on the balcony that made you run?" She stubbed out her
cigarette and tapped the cellophane pack for another.

"The balcony, the balcony. . . that damn balcony!" Virginia's
voice rose in anger and self-condemnation. She wiped her damp palms
together. "What happened on that balcony was a combination of too
much moonlight, too much fantasy, too many drinks, and too many
smoked oysters!" "No kidding," Diane breathed. "Right on the
balcony!"

"Don't look like that!"

"Like what?"

"Like the ecstatic fairy godmother from Cinderella," Virginia
retorted harshly. She pushed herself from the chair and restlessly
prowled around the room. "I feel cheap and disgusted and
embarrassed." Her index finger stabbed the air. "What's worse, I
feel so stupid for running."

"Why did you?" Diane asked, her curiosity momentarily overriding
her acquisition of yet another filter-tipped cigarette.

Virginia dropped back into the chair. "Midnight chimed and . . .
and the Bandit wanted the masks off." She hid her face in her
hands, her voice muffled. "I couldn't... I just could not take off
that mask." Her hands fell heavily against the table. "I don't
know. There I was, necking and petting and being totally
uninhibited with a stranger in the moonlight -that damn costume was
half off-but when it came to that tiny scrap of a satin mask-no! I
couldn't take it off." Virginia's glum expression focused on Diane.
"I ran like hell off that balcony."

"God, Ginger, don't you think everyone felt stupid and
embarrassed? You should have seen all the sheepish, mottled faces
when those masks were peeled off." A burst of giggles erupted from
her throat. "The guy in the bumblebee suit turned out to be Frank
Webb from the engineering library!"

Diane tapped Virginia's nose. "My guess is that you were more
confused by your overactive hormones than anything else." The
ensuing silence confirmed her pronouncement. "Ginger, you should
take a break from reading
How to Split an Atom
and start
dipping into the best sellers.
Nice Girls Do
turn into
The Sensuous Woman
and
Every Woman Can
learn
How
to Make Love to a Man.
It has nothing to do with moonlight and
aphrodisiacs. So you played slap-and-tickle with a stranger on the
balcony. You don't have to be ashamed of that. Men are all for
aggressive women these days."

"But that wasn't me!" Virginia returned, her voice high and
forceful. "I'm not like that. I'm . . . I'm

Diane interrupted her stuttering. "We're all like that. All it
takes is the right man, the right moment, the right surroundings.
For God's sake, you're carrying on like some Victorian virgin." She
stopped and eyed the lowered head in wonder. "Ginger, you aren't a
. . . are you?"

"No," came a dull voice. "The momentous occasion took place in
the back of a van during my junior year in college. It wasn't a big
deal; in fact, the anticipation was better than the actual
event."

"But things got better?"

Virginia's direct gaze pinned Diane. "Look, I am not very good
with men. I am not very good with people. Give me machines; at
least you know where you stand. It's either on or off, and when
it's on, there are no surprises."

She took a deep breath, then answered Diane's unspoken question.
"It was in graduate school. I was madly in love with Cal Jacobs. We
were working on our dissertations. I made it, he didn't. Briarcliff
picked me, not him. Everything fell apart. Jealousy replaced love,
if love was what we had.

"A man seems to have a difficult time accepting a woman who
surpasses him educationally, intellectually, and monetarily. I have
more fingers than I have had sexual encounters. I guess I am still
a virgin."

Diane eyed the two cigarettes burning in the ashtray, grimaced,
and stubbed them both out. "Somehow I thought it would be easier
for a woman like you. You meet so many men, travel to exciting
places, have a highly respected job. You're earning a fantastic
salary. I thought your life would be just a whirl of erotic,
stimulating encounters."

Virginia gave a humorless laugh. "I wish it were. It's me. I've
always been a loner, and when you're alone, every emotion echoes
louder. You learn to control those echoes."

"How loud did the Bandit make your emotions echo last
night?"

"They screamed," she confessed. "He was . . . he was slow and
easy and confident and experienced." Her mind instantly replayed
the erotic highlights of her balcony tete-a-tete.

Virginia could feel the strong fingers that had caressed the
supple length of her spine. A warm rush of heat washed over her
skin. Her breathing became labored, and she swallowed convulsively,
trying to ignore the tingle in her breasts.

"He made me feel like . . . like the most desirable woman in the
world. If he had asked, I would have gone to bed with him." Her
eyes followed the intricate rose pattern on the stainless-steel
spoon.

"That's a healthy admission." Diane grinned as she refilled the
coffee mugs.

"Last night was physical. We were two strangers who overreacted
to the fantasy of the evening," Virginia countered, her voice and
features quite serious. "We became our costumes, and I'm no Playboy
bunny."