The American Princess - Best Love Story Ever (15 page)

She considered her options: she might make
him take her home—she might come clean, and tell him what he was
going to discover anyway—she might jump out of her cutoffs and
panties, like an overeager nymphomaniac—she might go to the
washroom, take off her panties, shove them into her purse, and then
try to convince him that modern women don't wear panties—or she
might let him discover the unsightly panties for himself, and
suffer through whatever followed his discovery.

"You know," Brad said, "Lois Lane hung around
Clark Kent for years, and never figured out that he was Superman.
But in fairness to Lois, she didn't have much to go on. You, on the
other hand, have witnessed my superhuman strength, and yet you
refuse to believe. So I've decided to give you a demonstration of
another of my super powers."

"And that would be?"

"My X-ray vision."

"I'll show you the location of your beauty
spot, if I get to name it."

She was rattled. I don't believe this! She
had a beauty spot, but only she knew its location.

"Agreed?"

"Agreed," she replied. But reluctantly,
because only hours earlier she'd agreed to let Brad name her bear,
and she had been telling him that she loved him ever since. He came
to her, reached beneath her cutoffs, and fingered the inside of her
right thigh. "How did you know?"

"I told you, X-ray vision. It pays to eat
your carrots."

"To get X-ray vision from carrots, you must
have scoffed down enough of them to put Bugs Bunny to shame."

"Guess what I'm naming my beauty spot? You'll
love it."

"Why do I know I won't?"

"I'm naming it Please Do Me Brad, words I'll
enjoy hearing almost as much as I Love Only You Brad."

"So when you ask me my beauty spot's name I
have to say Please Do Me Brad."

He hugged her and grinned. "I love hearing
you say that, but a touch more enthusiasm would be
appreciated."

* * *

Brad was half-pleased, and half-annoyed with
himself. Poor B-J, he thought, she must be beside herself. It was
luck that had led to the discovery of the beauty spot that was high
up on her inner thigh. When he'd watched her play tennis, he'd
taken his video camera with him, and taped part of her match. At
one point, she'd slipped, and her tennis skirt, for a brief moment,
had flipped above her hips. Her beauty spot had been reveled, to
his delight, when he replayed the tape in slow motion.

* * *

Superhuman strength? X-ray vision? How can
this be happening to me a confused Betty-Jo wanted to know? But she
didn't have long to consider the mystery of it all because Brad
picked her up, and carried her toward the bedroom.

"Can you really see through my clothes?"

"Of course. Why do you think I'm so eager to
get you into bed?" That tugged a smile out of her. At the bedroom
door he said, "What's my beauty spot's name?" She refused to
answer, until he slipped, and almost dropped her. "Oops, hope that
doesn't happen again."

"Please Do Me Brad," she whispered.

"My pleasure," said the elated looking
man-of-steel.

He put her down on the queen-sized,
black-satin-sheet-covered bed. She lay back, and surreptitiously
watched as he took off his pants, but his sheets were also vying
for her attention. Feeling increasingly uninhibited, she moved
sensuously against them, enjoying the caress of the satin against
her skin. She had never before felt sheets like them.

"Where did you get these marvelous sheets?
With a bed like this, I'm surprised that you need me."

"Those sheets and PussCat are all I've had to
keep me company lately. It's an inviting bed, but it's been a
lonely bed until tonight."

When he removed his shirt, she sucked in her
breath, and held it. He was so lean, so hard. Such a primitive,
powerful animal. "Do all women think their lovers are sexy? You're
even better than the prizes they put in the Cracker Jack boxes."
But she was unable to fully appreciate the moment, knowing, and
nervous about what was coming next.

He left her blouse on, but undone. "Anyone as
breathtakingly beautiful as you, should only be undressed by a
lover," he said. But then, when he removed her cutoffs, and saw her
panties, he ruined it—he started to grin.

I'm mortified beyond all repair, she thought,
and there was no place to hide. She slid her fingers through her
hair, bit at her lower lip, and looked away. Then he made it even
worse—he failed to suppress a chuckle as he separated her from her
panties. But in fairness, he immediately tried to make amends. "Put
a positive spin on it. You're even better looking with your clothes
off. And besides, there's nothing quite as inviting as a
novice."

"Especially one you know you get to..."

She was attacked without warning. Her breath
was knocked out of her, and her breast was savaged.

Stunned and unbelieving, she managed to roll
onto her side, and draw herself into a protective shell. But her
back was still raked repeatedly.

"Get that animal off me!"

"Stop that PussCat!" Brad growled. Abruptly,
the attack ceased. "You're safe now B-J—but if I have to save a
fairytale princess more than once in an evening, that princess is
expected to provide a fitting reward."

She turned to face him. He was holding an
angry gray and white cat above his head—and he had the audacity to
grin at her. "Your reward will be fitting alright! But first I'm
going to gut that mangy cat, and string my racquet with it." She
stood up and started to get dressed.

"Calm down, and tell me your bear's name
while I comfort PussCat. Look how you've upset her."

"How I've upset her!"

He cradled the cat in one arm, and rubbed
behind her ear. "Let me find a comfy place for PussCat to sleep,
then I'll make sure you're okay."

"Then you'll make sure I'm okay!"

"Behave yourself, B-J. You're a big girl, and
you're fine. PussCat's a declawed, upset pussycat, not some
saber-toothed tiger. I'll make introductions when you're both in
more hospitable moods."

"What about a comfy spot for me?" she yelled
after him.

When he returned he examined her closely.
Then he kissed her where she'd been hurt. "Minor scrapes and
contusions, but you'll live. I'm sorry. PussCat obviously
frightened you."

"Frightened me! She scared the hell out of
me! That vicious furball launched an unprovoked attack, and you act
as if she's a savior or something. I'm surprised you didn't give
her a cat treat."

He tried to hug her, but she wasn't doing
hugging. "Actually, I did give her a cat treat. PussCat's a shrimp
loving cat."

"I love shrimp too! But I don't recall you
offering me any!"

"You didn't just save me from Godzilla."

That made Betty-Jo even madder. "So now I'm
Godzilla!"

"No resemblance at all, and you I love like
licorice. But to PussCat you're probably as big and threatening as
Godzilla. That furball just risked her life for me, or at least she
probably thinks she did. You risk your life for me, and I promise
I'll find you more than a few shrimp."

"...I'm sorry. I was frightened. It's not
every day I'm attacked in my soon to be lover's bed on my first
date with him."

"I should be apologizing to you. You've had a
scary date: an uptight former boyfriend, a dangerous coaster ride,
and now, an unprovoked furball attack." He ran his fingertips
lightly around her ear, across her cheek, down her neck, and then
out to the tip of her breast.

She softened under his touch. "It's enough to
make a girl stop dating and seek a life of tranquility and
devotion."

"Don't be thinking convent just yet. He
leaned back and contemplated her charms. "Did you know that Hymen
is the Greek god of marriage?"

What's this all about? "Do I want to?"

"The ancient Greeks believed that a woman
should marry the first man who makes love to her. What do you think
about that?"

"Bad idea—especially in our case."

"This date hasn't been all bad for you.
You've gained a bear and a rose."

"I thought that after you've had your way
with me, no more flowers."

He laughed and kissed her. "Only no more
roses. And remember, there's still nirvana."

"You realize you're in serious trouble if
you're wrong about this nirvana thing?"

"I'm not worried. But I do have a question.
Are you perchance a vestal virgin?"

"As opposed to your standard run-of-the-mill
virgin?"

"In ancient Rome the vestal virgins guarded
the hearth fire, and did the cooking. If you were a vestal-type
virgin a complete makeover would be uncalled for. We'd want to do
the virgin to nymphet change, but leave the vestal part
intact."

She laughed as she bathed in the caress of
his voice. "Turn me into a cooking nymphomaniac."

"Who told you every man's secret desire?"

"It's something you'll have to live without,
at least the cooking part. Now if you were interested in a sweeping
nymphomaniac?"

"Actually, that could work for me. Watching a
woman sweep is a huge turn-on for most men, and I'm no
exception."

"Who'd have guessed that you guys are so
easy?" She brushed his lips with a kiss. "I'm an accomplished
sweeper, who's willing to sweep whenever you wish. All you have to
do is tell me where you keep your broom."

He embraced her, and then removed his
pinstriped Jockey shorts.

Although inexperienced, she was experienced
enough to know that Brad was excited to be with her. And the warmth
and tenderness of his embrace, told her that he needed and loved
her. But as if to provide confirmation, he grasped a handful of her
hair, held her gaze, and whispered, "I'm certifiably in love with
you B-J Chance, now, and for always."

* * *

Brad cuddled his princess, kissed her all
over, and then freed his hands for a treasure hunt. He could feel
himself being drawn in by her aroma, her taste, and her touch. He
immersed himself in the wonder of her. On his satin sheets—loving
Betty-Jo—he was happier than he had ever thought possible.

Finally, after a lingering caress, he moved
over her.

"Be gentle," she murmured.

"I'm not sure gentle is best. Perhaps
deflowering a virgin should be like taking off a Band-Aid. If you
pull it off quickly, it's painless, but if you take it off
slowly..."

"Has anyone ever told you that you have a way
with women?"

"I try," he said. Then he took her head in
his hands, looked into her eyes, and embraced her soul. "What is
your bear's name?"

"I Love Only You Brad,"—low, throaty, eyes
darting as they watched him.

"And the name of your beauty spot?

"Please Do Me Brad." Tense.

"Do you hear an angle choir singing loud
hosannas?"

"Kiss me, and do it now—or you'll be the one
hearing loud hosannas." He kissed his fairytale princess."

"Again."

"He kissed her more deeply."

"Now take your maiden!" she implored him.

He nuzzled her neck, licked her ear, then bit
her lower lip, as he eased into a magic kingdom that was miles from
Disneyland....

"So this is what heaven feels like," he said,
and then, "How are you, once-upon-a-time virgin of mine?"

"Wonderful!" She held him tightly. "Having
you in me is paradise. Only God could have created what I'm
feeling—so full, so complete."

He was thrilled by his princess' delight.
"Let's work on total euphoria." Then, while searching her eyes, he
began to move inside her. "Making love with you is incredible. It's
push-ups, with a sensational added bonus."

"'Two mints in one,'" she said. Then she
kissed him—yearning, demanding.

* * *

Betty-Jo was experiencing an incredible
awakening. Something strange and amazing was happening to her. The
sensations Brad was creating, were totally new. Centered without
and within, they made her whimper and moan. Is that me making those
sounds she wondered, as her moans intensified? Soon they were
mingling with her gasps of pleasure.

"Bad Brad....Yes! Yes! Oh yes! Thank you,
thank you!"

He picked up his rhythm, slowly guiding her
toward her first, manmade finale. "You may be thanking me too
soon," he said. Then he withdrew.

She clung to him like a woman possessed,
straining to recapture his joystick—to no avail.

"Brad, please!" A sob caught in her throat.
"Please go back. Why have you left me like this, all wet and
wanting?"

Then he was in her, and moving once more.

What he had done to her had been the worst
few moments of her life—until he stopped a second time. "I can't do
this," he said.

Loony
as Lemmings in Love

"What do you mean you can't do this!" Brad
had created a Siberian delight and she was beside herself. She
shifted her hips, dug her nails into his back, and clung to him
with all her strength, forcing him to stay in her.

"I thought you loved me," she whimpered.

"I will always love you. But you can't 'force
love to do the work of sex.'"

"Are you crazy? You want sex to do work for
you?"

"What I want is a commitment from you."

"A commitment to what?" She was close to
tears; afraid he would leave her again.

"To fidelity. I need a commitment from you
because of what happened to Paul Simon when he was making love with
Cecilia."

"You're not crazy—you're insane!"

"Cecilia broke Paul's heart."

"You mean when he got up to wash his
face?"

"That part was okay. The bad part came when
he went back to bed, and found that someone had taken his
place."

She laughed and held him even tighter. "I can
sympathize with Paul on that one—although he probably deserved it
for some reason."