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CHAPTER ONEIt was the first evening after June graduation at the Galen High School and Debra Collins was saying goodbye to her steady boy friend Bobby Morrison.It was more than just a usual goodbye, because Bobby was going to spend the summer with the Peace Corps in Guatemala, where he would be one of a number of ambitious youngsters giving all they had for about forty cents a day to combat the poverty and squalor of the natives. At least that's how Bobby had explained it to Debra.He was seven and one-half, tall, gangling and towheaded. He had been all-city tackle at Galen last fall, which was when Debra had first noticed his superbly physical coordination and decided that it would be a lot of fun to get a private screening of it. Bobby's father was a retired mining engineer, and his mother had died ten years ago. The father and son shared a spacious apartment on Chicago's swanky Lake Shore Drive. And as the senior Morrison was wont to travel a good deal and see parts of the country he had missed when he was working hard to put away a good trust fund for his son and plenty of insurance for his beloved wife, Bobby had the apartment pretty much to himself most of the time.Right now, as a matter-of-fact, they were alone together in the living room of the apartment. They were sitting together on the wide luxuriously upholstered couch in front of the huge bay window looking out over Lake Michigan. It was a thrilling view at night, the stars high in the dark blue sky and the placid water of a peaceful June evening and the murmur of the automobiles sixteen floors below on the Drive.However, so far as Bobby Morrison was concerned, the view was much better inside. Yesterday afternoon in the Galen auditorium, Debra had looked serene and stately in her graduation gown. This Tuesday evening, however, she was wearing a tight yellow silk jersey pull-over, a short green silk skirt whose hem tantalizingly crept up over a pair of the most delightfully dimpled knees on the North Side, and yellow bobby socks and loafers completed her attire, except for a pair of very thin, wispy, white panty-briefs and a strapless bra which, together with the tight pull-over, accentuated a pair of boldly highest, well-spaced breasts which a tape measure had recently declared to be 37 inches. Bobby Morrison, being a young man who was given to measuring yardage on the football field, had already verified those dimensions.Debra Collins was five feet five, just a month past her eighteenth birthday and the only child of Mr. and Mrs. Rudyard Collins on West Surf Street. Debra's father, who had had to. bear up under the handicapping name of Rudyard because his own father had been a doting admirer of Kipling's poetry, was a highly successful vice president of a downtown advertising agency, Debra's mother was active in charities, fund-raising for the Lyric Opera and a member of the PTA. Neither of them really had very much time for Debra, which was quite all right with Debra herself. And they trusted her implicitly because her school work was always satisfactory and because she had managed to get through eighteen years without any serious problems ... at least not the kind that ever came to their attention.Debra had dark auburn hair which owed nothing to artificial colorations, and it flowed in a luxurious, thick pageboy to her shoulders. Her face was oval and sulky-sensual, with a small, very ripe and extremely kissable mouth, a saucy snub nose with thin, widely flaring wings, and high-set cheek bones which were profusely freckled. Her eyes were a dark blue, very widely separated, and their intense look was heightened by arching, thin, daintily pencilled brows, as well as extremely long thick lashes. When she had arranged with her best girl friend, Sue Denning, who had had an occasional date with Bobby Morrison until she decided to go steady with Pete Haskins, to meet the all-city tackle, all she had had to do was to listen to his stories of his own prowess on the gridiron with an enthralled look and with an occasional flutter of those devastating lashes. From then on, Bobby Morrison was hooked.Debra liked boys. She was unabashedly fond of them. Although her mother had, not without a certain blushing reticence, explained the facts about the birds and the bees and the flowers to her when she reached her twelfth birthday, Debra had decided for herself that a little knowledge is a dangerous thing and actual experience prevents the danger. She had started to date when she was eighteen, discreetly, of course. Since Galen had an enrollment of over three thousand boys and girls, there was plenty of material for her to experiment with. In the past two years, there had been a processional of young men whose escort she had accepted to the movies or the roller-skating rink or a swim at the beach or a hamburger and malted at Corado's, the favorite hangout for the Galen crowd after school. Thus far, however, the only one she had ever brought home for the parents to meet and approve had been Bobby Morrison.Although Bobby hadn't yet been granted Debra's supreme favors, the two of them had progressed along just about every byway which leads to the main course of love-making. For Debra Collins had her own particular and quixotically different set of rules when it came to "going the limit." To experiment with interesting fellows was one thing; to be too easily accessible to her very best boy friend, her real steady, the true man in her life, was quite another thing. That was one reason Bobby Morrison couldn't tell whether Debra was a virgin or not.Actually, she wasn't. She had decided, the first week school started last September, to find out what it was really all about and had selected strapping Johnny Adams as her initiator. The initiation had taken place shortly after lunch on the narrow cot down in the basement of Johnny's apartment. His parents and his older brother had been downtown shopping that afternoon.Debra was already adept at necking and French-kissing, so she had got herself worked up into the proper mood by indulging for about half an hour in this exciting byplay till finally Johnny's urges had got the better of his capabilities and dalliance and he had told her that he just had to have her right then and there. Debra had just unhooked her skirt and slipped down her panties. Another one of her idiosyncrasies about sex was that you only showed yourself in the altogether to your very best boy friend, the man you were probably going to marry. By restricting her initiator to only a part of the breathtaking vistas of her delectable young body, Debra had felt that she was not really sacrificing all she had to give to the right man. Besides, it had been wickedly thrilling to be just half undressed and to watch the effect even that partial nudity had made on Johnny.She had seen to it that he had come prepared to their rendezvous so that there wouldn't be any difficulties later on. She had closed her eyes while he took care of the details, and then a moment later she had gasped as she felt a man's virility demanding its rightful inlet. For a moment there had been a twinge of pain, but it had quickly been obliterated by the glorious sensation of completion ... his youthful vigor and enthusiasm had been extremely flattering, too. Even though the iron cot had only a thin mattress and had been crampingly narrow, Debra had writhed and clutched him, her thighs frantically locking him to her, and moaned in a delirious rapture as she felt him attain the pinnacle of his passion. When he had sagged upon her after fruition, she had determined that practice makes perfect.It hadn't taken long to induce him to give her a second command performance, and this time, happily, it had taken a good deal longer. This time, she had been able to consider all the exquisite nuances whereby a girl differed from a boy and derived pleasure therefrom, She had felt her breasts and thighs tingling and every pore of her body vibrant with the sheer joy of being alive. And she had longed to anticipate and abet his awkward if ardently vigorously rhythm so as to increase her own pleasure. They had nearly rolled off the cot when the holocaust of ecstasy had taken hold of her and hurled her over the edge into the abyss of passion.There were times, Debra admitted to herself, that the pleasure she had experienced during that initiation had been so great as to seek seconds and thirds and fourths and fifths. But that would have been to go against her own standards which she had set just as soon as she had been introduced to Bobby Morrison. Her parents had thought that he was a real catch, and he was, in more ways than one. Not only did he have access to a simply darling apartment which was empty most of the time, but his father was rich and if she married Bobby she would never have to worry about money. A girl had to be practical, too. He was going on to college after his stint in the Peace Corps, and it was just about agreed between them that he would get engaged to her when she was eighteen. After college, he planned to go into mining or construction engineering, just as his father had done before him. And that would mean travel, and that would be exciting too.Right now, as she sat next to him, her thigh pressing tightly against his, all too well aware of the quivering sections along his leg which communicated against her own flesh through the thin skirt, she was telling herself that maybe she ought to relax her rules just once. Because he-would be leaving for Guatemala and she wouldn't see him again until mid-September. And if it had been thrilling with Johnny, it would be ten times as delicious with Bobby, because he was taller and stronger and because their bouts of necking and petting had already made her nearly swoon more than once. But that was just what made holding him off that much more exciting. When you anticipate something and deliberately hold off doing it, it takes on a monumental stature in your mind. She just knew that when she and Bobby finally went to bed and went all the way, it would be like nothing else in this whole wide world.She slipped her arm around his waist and pressed her cheek against his."Gee, Bobby, I'm going to miss you. It's going to be a long dull summer without you," she murmured huskily.Debra Collins had no way of knowing just how wrong her prediction was going to be.CHAPTER TWOBobby Morrison heaved a doleful sigh. "It sure is, Debbie honey," he mused, answering the auburn-haired teenager's lament. "I'm going to miss you something awful.""Me too, Bobby. You're a doll, a real swinger. Not like the rest of the stuffy boys at Galen. That's why I go for you.""Trouble is, you won't be able to till I get back in September, Debbie baby. I'm going to Guatemala tomorrow. Six other guys are goin', too. And it's hot down there and the food, I hear, is awful. And you won't be there.""I know." She put a hand on his knee in a sort of consolatory gesture. The only trouble with that was Bobby wanted to be consoled in quite a different manner. They had been together steady now, since the middle of last October, and that was eight and a half months in his book. Time enough just about for a girl to have a baby. Time enough, certainly, for a girl to show a guy what she really felt about him."But we've got tonight, though, haven't we, Debbie?" He began his campaign with a husky, self-pitying intonation, at the same time moving just a little closer to her. Also, his left arm sneaked round her supple waist, and his hand came to rest against her left side right where the tight yellow pullover ended and the waistband of the short green silk skirt began. Then his right hand moved over to rest over her folded hands in her soft lap. He felt the anticipatory tingle of desire ll at this nearness. Debra Collins wasn't yet allowed to wear perfume and her mother frowned almost equally on lipstick. Yet the fresh clean smell of her bare skin and the fragrance of her hair-she had shampooed it night before last so it would be glossy and full of luster for graduation-were potent enough to inflame Bobby Morrison without relying on any' artificial stimulant. Debra Collins' voluptuous, ripe young body was stimulant enough for a commendably virile male. That was exactly what Bobby was, and the nearness of his best girl right now caused the anticipatory quivering of his being to manifest itself into a dully aching, throbbingly ardent awareness.Debra could just about have predicted his next move. She had permitted him many liberties and many variants of those liberties in their dates together, save, of course, the ultimate goal for which he yearned. But in her reasoning, forbidding him that supreme pleasure would pedestal it for the time when-as she calculated-he would be ready to marry her to get every possible bed-right. And when he put the magic ring on her finger, Debra had already promised herself in advance that she would deny him nothing. For then it would be morally right, even by her own unique code. And in her own way, she considered herself virtually a virgin, since even though she'd been initiated, she hadn't ever once yieled everything of herself. No boy could ever boast that he had seen Debra Collins in her altogether, beautifully bare skin. That right, along with the innumerable facets of permission to enjoy all her secret goodies, was reserved and conserved for the man she was going to marry. Bobby Morrison."Gosh, you're specially gorgeous tonight, Debbie," his voice was hoarse with the pent-up savagery of his urgency for her. She had her right arm around his waist, and her fingertips could sense the dynamic tension in his sinewy, boy-lean hip. She shivered, the mental image of what he could do if she'd let him rampant in her mind. She couldn't have used a sexologist's pedantic terminology to explain it, but already she was sex-wise enough to comprehend that the pleasures of anticipation were very often more thrilling than reality. At this moment, to be exact, she was envisioning a canopied four-poster bed in a soundproofed huge room dominated by that mammoth bed, and Bobby Morrison was carrying her across the threshold of the room to deposit her on the bed and then tremblingly removing every one of her garments till she was tawny-skinned-naked and then....She felt her nipple stiffen with the erotic stimulus of that imagery, and then she felt something even more tangible: Bobby's fingertips had slyly slid under the hem of the pullover and were brushing her naked side just above the waistband of the skirt. She sighed comfortably and snuggled against him. She didn't intend to deny him some little pleasures on this, his last night before going out of the country. The very thought was romantic enough to make her feel more than usually generous. But, at the same time, not so generous as Bobby Morrison secretly longed to have her be."Oh, Debbie," he moaned as she half-turned to him, her tantalizing ripe mouth graciously proffered, her dark blue eyes very intense and glowing.Her sideways movement enabled his straying left hand to roam farther under the tight pullover, and upwards, till it encountered the magnificent, boldly firm turret of her bra-sheathed breast. Debra uttered a tiny whimper and cupped his flushed cheeks with both solf little hands, her right knee jostling his left thigh. Their mouths met, opening and Debra promptly foraged her artful pink warm tongue to flick its saucy, sensitizing tip against the inside of his upper lip. Bobby moaned again, and now he found it awkward to use his left hand while practically facing her, so he at once substituted his right; it crept under the pullover, attained the side of her swelling hard young breast, while his left hand moved down along her right side, over the young opulence of her hip and thence to the outer edge of her upper thigh. He squeezed that resilient column, and Debra instinctively clenched her legs. It wasn't part of the game for him to be so vehement and quick. She adored slow, lingering operational procedures in their moments together. Yet she understood. This was his last night for three whole lonesome months and he wanted to take away a vital memory of his best girl. Still and all, nobody was going to disturb them in the apartment and the night was still very young. There wasn't any hurry whatsoever so far as she was concerned. But then a girl always took more time to savor the shades of delicious feelings which crept over her when a fellow was paying his attentions to her. The trouble always was that a fellow didn't have the staying power of a girl. She foresaw that when Bobby finally popped the question, she would have to take over his education along those lines....His left hand was stroking her thighs now, rather feverishly, while his right hand continued to cup and knead the effulgent jounce of her bra-moulded breast. And she let him know by tiny little stabs of her warm moist tongue that she was terribly fond of him. She was still cupping his cheeks, and he was perspiring so, the darling. He must want her terribly by now."Mrara, I've got to come up for air, sweetie," she playfully whispered as she broke off the kiss and wriggled loose. Reluctantly he let her go, though loath to take his right hand away from the luscious treasure it had been fondling."Gosh, Debbie, you're terrific. I don't know how I'll stand it when I'm down there in that hot country and can't see you.""You've got my picture, lover, haven't you?""Uh huh. But it's not the same thing at all.""You're the only boy I ever gave a picture of myself in a bathing suit to, you know that, don't you, Bobby honey?""Sure I do, and it's a terrific picture. But can you imagine me on a Saturday night sitting in a tent and looking at it and being happy with just that, instead of you yourself?" his tone was that of a martyr now.Debra Collins giggled. A very naughty idea had just flashed into her precocious mind, and also, with it, the way to satisfy his longing without violating her intrinsic code."Sure I can, Bobby." x "Huh?""You'll look at it and you'll get excited all in the dark and you'll pretend I'm there and next thing you know, I'll be as good as there, she giggled."Aw, quit joking," he ruefully answered, fumbling for a cigarette out of the crumpled pack in his shirt. He has taken off his tie and unbuttoned the collar-button before joining Debra on the davenport. In their first kisses, the ebullient hillocks of her bosom had mashed the cigarettes. He though of that now, with a shiver, as he lit the white slightly bent tube and drew in a long wreath of smoke, then exhaled it."Me too," she whispered, squnching up against him till he felt her deliriously rounded, rather long thigh press intimately against his.He put the mouthpiece of the cigarette to her lips, noticing how moist and red they were, with hardly any lipstick; it was a mouth of young sensuality and expert enticement, and the charming moue Debra made as she accepted the cigarette and let it dangle out of the corner of her mouth for a moment while she slipped her left hand along his knee and lower thigh made the blood feel like molten lava in his veins."Debbie, I-I've just got to have you, honeypot," he groaned."Poor Bobby! Am I teasing you? You know I'm not really that kind of a girl.""Then why-"She put her soft right palm over his mouth to silence that anguished query, while at the same time her other hand slid along his flexing, tensing leg till his eyes bulged with a frenetic desire that must have appeasement."You know very well why and why not, Bobby lover. We've talked it over so many times. I'm your girl. We've agreed we're going to get married. But I want it to be perfect for us, lover man. No worries about-well, you know. Or having to rush things. I want the works, slow and taking time and thinking up notions and in our own bed on our honeymoon. That's why not now, Bobby. Because it's going to be so wonderful for us. Don't you know it will be?""God, yes, but-Debbie-oh, honey baby, just this one time-here I'm going out of the U. S. and we won't see each other till fall-Debbie, don't you know how I feel?""Uh huh. 'N maybe I feel the same way. Only you'd never respect me again if I gave in. And neither of us'd really have the fun we've every right to have when we're married. You understand, don't you, Bobby?""I-I'm trying all I can," he hoarsely muttered, a frown of exasperated torment twisting his handsome features."Poor darling-I know it's awful for you. Just like it is for me. But I promise you won't go away mad at me. I promise, honest and truly, Bobby lover.""Then-""Shh!" she breathed, again touching his trembling lips with her hot little palm. "No more talk. Just do what Debbie wants and says, 'n we'll both have fun to remember till you come back. Okay?""If-if that's the way you want it-okay-but gosh sakes, I'm dying-""Bad boy-shh!" she chided playfully. And then her left hand crept upwards along his training leg, pressing intimately with her soft fingertips as she felt the taut muscles ripple and surge, felt the vigor of his young strength that she had watched on the football field. The hard flexing thighs, swift and energetic and strong in movement, now shivering against her Delilah's canny touch. Languorously her fingertips moved, back and forth, while her other hand cupped his cheek and her mouth offered itself, the lips parted, just the tip of that nimble, deliciously roguish tongue visible.With a choking sob of desperation, Bobby Morrison mashed his mouth on hers, delving his tongue deep into her sweet fragrant mouth, and she answered with the feverish friction of her own; the unctuous rubbing of those senitized membranes was a token counterpart of the actual act of love which she forbade. Greedily, his hands moved to the pullover, cupping and moulding the hard round fruits of her bosom through the jersey silk, and as she felt his palms press against her stiffening nipples. Debra squirmed and sighed, her tongue now furiously probing and rapiering between his parted lips. By now her hand had crept towards the citadel of his manhood, but not yet encountering it; instead, in a slow circular motion, her palm glided over his upper thigh, back and forth, from side to side, her other arm linked around his neck, her eyes closed, surrendering herself up to the onrush of sensation.Bobby Morrison wouldn't have been human if he hadn't tried to take advantage of her dreamily ecstatic state. That was why he quickly sneaked both hands under the pullover and greedily sought the swelling, hard young rounds of her superb breasts. Her tongue speeded its goading as she uttered a faint little sigh of pleasure, and Bobby took this for total acquiescence. Understandably, since he was in a mood of triumphant self-pity, feeling himself almost a martyr for his country like a soldier going off to a foreign land perhaps to perish, he wanted the hectic nowness, the carnal consolation and compensation for all his pent-up passion for Debbie ever since their first date. That was exactly why his fumbling fingers edged around her warm shapely well-cleft back to find the hooks of the little bra.But Debra Collins adhered rigorously to her self-imposed code. That was why, in her turn, she murmured "Uh-uh" into his panting mouth even while her tongue was flicking at his, and why she squirmed in a delightfully tantalizing motion to evade his bold attempt and finally, sinuously, stood up from the davenport and shook her head, looking down at his darkly flushed face."No, Bobby. I won't let you take all my clothes off.You know that, lover. Not till I'm Mrs. Bobby Morrison.""Aw, gosh, Debbie, you don't know-" he thickly began., "I do know, sweetie. And you mustn't make it any tougher on me than it is already. I told you we'd both have fun if you let me do it my way. Now please be good. Promise, Bobby darling?"He was ready to sell his immortal soul if it would help get him relief from the maddening torment of her supple young body. His fingers itched from the remembrance of her tawny naked skin under the pullover, from their memory of the exuberant resilience which her high-set round bosom had expressed to his avid touch."Okay, okay, Debbie, anything! I'm mad about you!""A girl has feelings too, lover," she purred. "You know I'm not a nasty old teaser, not like Dodo Cantwell or Marge Thomas, don't you?""Uh huh, only-Debbie-it might be for the last time-aw, please, just once! You know I'm going to marry you. And-and you won't get into trouble-I know how to-" he blurted awkwardly."Shame on you," she giggled. "I know what you were going to say, Bobby Morrison. That you came prepared, just like a Boy Scout. You had a nerve, thinking because you were going away, I'd let you go all the way. Don't you know me well enough by now to understand when I say a thing. I mean it, lover?""Aw gosh," he shifted uncomfortably on the davenport, his face redder than ever."Poor Bobby. I told you I'd arrange it so we'd have fun-but without that. Now don't you trust me, honey?""Gosh, yes, Debbie! But you know how crazy I am about you.""Sweet," she whispered, bending down to kiss him playfully on the tip of his nose. With a choking gasp, Bobby tried to pull her down on top of him, but Debra artfully resisted and broke loose, shaking a reproving forefinger at him. "Be nice now! Just relax and let me have my own way. You'll see how nice it can be, even if it's not all you want. You know very well if I let you do what you want, you wouldn't respect me any more."