"Reskind, Jon - The Abducted Bride" - читать интересную книгу автора (Reskind Jon)

"Do you stay here often?" Jean had to ask.

"Oh yes, my dear, my husband and I always stay here when we want peace and quiet and, it is quaint."

Jean felt foolish that she had to keep asking questions like this. Monique had assured her several times that everything was all right. She would just have to accept it. After all, who knows a country better than a native. Besides, she liked her and was looking to her for some moral support these next several days. They would be difficult ones and she knew she wouldn't bear to face them completely alone.

"Jean, dear," Monique said, "I've got to run and do a few things before I unpack. Why don't you put your things away and rest up a bit. I think a nap would do you good. I'll be back around six and we can have dinner together."

Jean agreed to this. She was happy to be left alone for a few hours to get settled and take a bath. She felt gritty from the trip and hadn't been in a tub since her hurried exit from the hotel room in Paris.

"I'd love it," Jean replied, "you wake me up when you finish your business. I'll probably be dead to the world."

As soon as Monique was out of the room, Jean finished her unpacking and drew a cool refreshing bath. She couldn't wait to get into bed, as squeaky and uncomfortable as it looked. She scrubbed herself a bright clean, feeling as though she hadn't touched water in weeks. Afterwards, she rubbed herself with lotion from head to foot, rubbing gently over the bruises left from Kevin's childish assault on her. She closed her mind tightly against the memory for the time being and decided to think about it later. Right now she was too tired to do anything but sleep.

She chose a short hip-length nighty, purposely pushing the torn one she had worn the other night with Kevin into a far corner of the drawer where she had put her things.

There was a soft knock on the door.

"Who is it?" Jean asked lightly, concluding that Monique had forgotten something.

"Iced tea, Madame," she recognized Shalla's voice through the door.

"But, I--I didn't order any tea," Jean answered, surprised and a bit upset about the unexpected intrusion.

"Madame Monique ordered it for you, Madame. She said it would help you sleep. It's a special mint tea to relax you."

"Oh, all right, just a minute," Jean threw on her thin robe and opened the door to allow him to enter.

Shalla stopped for a moment as he brought the tray through the door. Jean caught his sharp quick eyes as they glanced the length of her body. She automatically drew the top of the robe tightly around her throat and stood holding the door open waiting for him to put the tray down and leave.

"If Madame needs anything else, just ring the buzzer and Shalla will come." He bowed as he slowly backed out the door, his penetrating eyes boring straight through the robe Jean was wearing. She gave him a cold stare and shuddered as she drew its flimsy material more tightly around herself locking the door behind him. She was glad Monique would be returning in a few hours. She knew she was safe here with the door locked but still felt a little insecure. She didn't like the clerk and the way he had looked at her. He had stripped her bare with his glances and she knew it wouldn't take much carelessness on her part to have him get out of line. She had never seen such a raw animal lust in a man's eyes before as they had locked on the cleavage showing between her large ripe breasts. Her hands inadvertently covered them as she trembled repulsively at the thought of his hands on her.

She picked up the glass of tea from the table by the bed and sipped it thirstily. In spite of the lewd appraisal of her body by the clerk, she was glad Monique had sent the tea. It was cool and refreshing, though it had a slight bitterness to it. Must be from the mint, she thought, as she stretched her long smooth body down the length of the bed, draining the last drop from the tall refreshing glass.

She stretched languidly, relaxed sweetly by the hypnotizing bitterness of the drink and pressed the switch by the bed that turned off the light hanging above her. The room faded into a pleasant semi-darkness as her eyes fluttered closed into a strange floating half-sleep. Her mind seemed to remain in an almost waking state as she could feel the nerve ends of her body floating below her into a deep, deep, softness that seemed like a gentle fleece-lined cloud beneath her. The pleasant intoxicating mint odor curled strangely through her nostrils bringing dreams of sun and roses and Kevin the deepest warmth she had ever known, descended from somewhere above, and dropped gently the alluring veil of near sleep over her.



Chapter 3


From a broom closet next to the room of the American girl, the Arab peered hungrily through the small hole bored through the wall. He could see her slowly remove the thin robe she was wearing, exposing the flimsy night gown that covered her firm luscious body only down to the tops of her full well-rounded thighs.

He smiled in anticipation when he saw her lift the glass of tea to her lips and drink deeply from it. He held his breath as she winced slightly from the initial bitter taste; then breathed freely again as the puzzled look disappeared from her face and she drank again. Small beads of perspiration broke from his forehead as she reclined back on the bed, her feet facing directly at the hole through which he was observing her. The sparse nylon gown snaked its way up over the white flat plane of her belly, exposing the dark soft silkiness that covered the junction of her slightly spread legs. The thin red hair-lined slit was temptingly visible running the length of her open crotch.

His bulging eyes followed the contours of the hips up over the rising and falling rib-cage to the large white rounded spheres of her breasts. They were set slightly close together and through the thin covering, he could sec their turgid nipples rising into tantalizing little buds. His month watered He could hardly wait to get his hands and mouth on those and to twist and churn them into the rock hardness of passion. He had never had an American girl before and he had heard they were passionless haughty things who ruled over their men with an iron-hand. He would see soon. His potion never failed. He had used it often on the women Madame Monique had brought here and not one had been able to resist its maddening aphrodisiac effect.

He would show this proud little American bitch who had everything and who had dismissed him as so much dirt when he had tried to be friendly. It wouldn't be long now as she had turned the glass up and drained the last lethal drops for it. He clenched his fist tightly as she squirmed around on the bed before him and pushed the light switch, plunging the room into semi-darkness. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the change but he could still see her slim form stretched sensuously down the length of the bed. Her thighs had fallen apart a little more now and he could make out dimly the dark wisp that covered the mound of her lower belly. His tongue ran inadvertently around the moist edges of his lips as he fingered the master key in his pocket. He would have to wait a few more minutes. He wanted no crying out, the potion must have time to reach its full effect. His body was soaked in a sweat now from the thought of that haughty young bitch squirming in helpless surrender beneath his excited body. The seconds of waiting ticking by seemed like hours ... til finally he could stand it no longer. He returned to the hallway, carefully tiptoeing down to the room and fitting the key quietly into the door. He opened it slowly, pushing his head into the darkened room, to see if there was any sound. There was none but the soft breathing of the motionless form on the bed. He closed the door softly behind him, locking it to insure there would be no disturbing them.

The Arab looked intensely through the darkness at the bed. The head of the sleeping girl was facing straight ahead at the ceiling. Her eyes were clenched tightly shut as if in a deep hard sleep, yet she moved slightly from time to time as though dreams were coming to her from the haze of the other world she had slipped into.