The gang began to break up, each man leading a girl away into other rooms for a more private pleasure. Eventually Jake and his girl stood up and went off to find a bed for a fresh bout.
Only Hartnell was left, sitting on a table, his legs swinging nonchalantly to and fro. Across the room, the odd girl stood, undecided.
Hartnell, in spite of the show could not summon any great enthusiasm to make love to any of these professional women. He remembered his only-too-frequent nights with Gracie, the torment they left inside him, the feelings of love, passion and protection they left within him. All this was cheap in comparison and he could only think of her.
He looked at the girl who remained and realized she was waiting for him to do something. She was a slim, dark girl with big breasts and a rather sharp, attractive face. He noticed she was not wearing lipstick and that her lips were a gentle shade of pink, well shaped and soft-looking.
'Go to bed,' he said. 'I don't feel like it.'
She raised dark eyebrows in surprise and came across to him.
''Ow is that, darleeng?' she asked, putting her hand on his shoulder.
Hartnell grinned inwardly at the situation. He thought of earlier occasions when he would have loved to have had just such an attractive girl standing nude in front of him asking why he didn't want to make love to her. Things have come to a pretty pass, he thought.
'I guess I'm just tired,' he said.
'But I will make you wide awake again,' she insisted. 'Am I not beautiful enough?'
She made a little pirouette in front of him, displaying her curvaceous back view with the perkily protruding rounded buttocks, and giving a little laugh which brought out dimples in her smooth, brown cheeks.
Hartnell felt a sudden warmth down in his trousers.
'Oh, you're great,' he assured her. 'I just don't feel like it.'
'Perhaps you are un'appy in love?' she suggested, putting her finger unwittingly straight on the wound.
'Perhaps I am,' Hartnell agreed.
'Is true - this?' she asked.
'Is true,' he said.
She moved closer to him, throwing back her head a little so that her firm breasts stood out towards his face inviting.
'Then it is better that you make love - make you 'appier,' she assured him.
'I wish you were right,' Hartnell said.
She misunderstood his words a little and put her hand down on the bulge which had grown, without him being fully aware of it, in his trousers. She ran her fingers over it, feeling it, measuring it.
'You see - you want it really,' she said.
With her hand titivating his penis through a couple of thicknesses of material and her breasts so close under his face that he would only need to sway forward to kiss them, Hartnell felt a doubt in himself. He didn't really want her. But just for the few minutes of physical delight which would allow him to forget everything? Might it not be a good thing? But then he saw Gracie lying in the bed thinking of him, wanting him and the desire dissipated.
'Come. You come upstairs - or we stay here?' the girl asked. She was rubbing her thighs together, pressing against his legs, working herself into a state of excitement.
'No,' he said. 'No - not tonight.'
'No? Why is no?' she asked.
She began to undo his buttons and he realized his erection hadn't gone down. He couldn't make the effort to get up or push her away.
She undid them all the way down and searched for the opening in his pants, found it and worked his organ out into view. She held it gently in her hand looking at the blunt cudgel of a knob, the thick white staff.
'Is big,' she said appreciatively.
Her fingers on his penis had made a certain warmth of feeling gush into it and find an echo in his throat. He looked at her body, at the thin fingers stroking his flesh.
'You still not sure you want it?' the girl asked, but her eyes were twinkling with certainty.
She bent suddenly and took the knob in her mouth.
The movement took him by surprise, sending a sharp pain of sensation through him, making his penis swell in her mouth to even greater size.
She glanced up at him quickly.
'I eat it,' she said.
Her mouth went back to enclose him and he watched the top of her head with its short black curly hair jogging about.
She was using her tongue and he could feel it swiping around him, stimulating his rod to make little involuntary jerks in her mouth. Her lips were soft as they moved down the staff, taking all she could into her mouth, surrounding the flesh with the warmth of her breath, the moistness of her saliva.
Her tongue was like the suction end of a vacuum cleaner. As she licked his prick he felt as if this slender morsel of flesh, this tongue was drawing the very dregs of feeling out of him, electrifying his whole body.
She began to suck voraciously, rubbing her legs together all the time and he leaned back on the table, pushing his hips at her face, moving his penis farther towards her throat.
He wouldn't stop her now, he realized. It had gone too far now. He thought about Gracie and the thought quite apart from what was happening down there under her moving head. It was easier to recognize the difference when it was happening and it didn't matter so much.
She bit him gently and he squirmed. He leaned forward and ran his fingers through her hair and then reached down to stroke her breasts. She didn't look up, but continued with her sucking, continued rubbing her thighs together and breathing heavily over his rampant phallus.
His heart began to pound. He wanted to tense his legs together and strain his hips at her. His loins were growing hot. He was sweating between his legs.
Releasing her breasts, he let himself fall gently backwards until he was lying across the table. She moved back with him, keeping his penis in her mouth, burying her head in his loins.
Now he was on his back and could sense himself. He did so and felt an immediate crush of feeling at that stiff protuberance which her tongue was working on like a mad thing. His lips moved apart and his breath made the only noise in the room.
He felt her hand exploring in his trousers and then she pulled out his testicles so that his genitals were all exposed in a neat little triangle. She stroked the loose sacks of flesh while she sucked and he felt a fresh intoxication run through his body, finding its extreme point at the head of his cudgel.
His breath shot in little explosions into the still atmosphere of the big room. His hips were grinding against her face. He glanced down and saw her engrossed in her sucking, eyes closed, fluttering every so often, her breasts pressed against his knees, her legs still tight against him and rubbing. He bit his lip and tensed his hips watching her pretty, unrouged mouth eating sensually on his penis.
The stem of his penis, that part which wasn't engulfed in her mouth, was dead white. In contrast, he knew, the knob would now be dark, flaming red.
It would be getting redder and redder, darker and darker, all the blood drawn into it just as the sperm was already tingling to move into it. He panted in a continuous stream, writhing his hips, gritting his teeth at the pinpoint of furious sensation lost in her mouth.
He wanted to grab her, twist her over and shove it in her with furious energy, but he couldn't move from his position. His passion had trapped him there, making him incapable of breaking the rhythm.
His fingers clawed at the polished tabletop, bringing out thin scratch lines on its smooth surface.
In his belly he could feel the imminence of the explosion, the boiling to great heat. He gasped, gasped loudly, so that the sound echoed in the big room and the girl renewed her tonguing with even greater energy.
Deep inside the boiling was under way. He could feel it growing and growing and the thought that he was going to flood into her mouth filled him with an overwhelming perversity of pleasure. He worked his hips, hurrying the climax for fear she would jerk away before it was reached.
He was lost now. It had to be finished. Not to finish now, for her to pull away now, was the equal of death, of torture and then death...