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CHAPTER ONE

I was suspicious from the very beginning. 

David Anderjanian had sent me a dozen American Beauty roses and a little note asking me for a dinner date at a posh supper club on upper Fifth Avenue. He had also delivered a bottle of champagne to my apartment, to be placed on ice for his arrival. I was to wear an evening gown; he would be wearing a tuxedo. 

This was not at all like David Anderjanian. In fact, it was such contrary conduct that I came damn near calling him up and telling him to go to hell. In my long experience with my case officer—I am a secret agent for the League of Underground Spies and Terrorists, or L.U.S.T.— I have found him to be at his sweetest just before clobbering me with the dirtiest job around. 

To rate a con job this good, he must have something slimy up his sleeve to give me before the night was over. I was right in a way—in my wildest imaginings I couldn't have guessed what that job was going to be. 

My name is Eve Drum. I consider myself a slick chick, a mod bod, a hep cat. My nickname in L.U.S.T. is Double Oh Sex, and many's the time I've proved my right to it. At that moment I was between cases, and while I keep my ear pretty much to the ground, I had no inkling of what was waiting for poor little me. 

However, I decided to be brave about it. 

I got all nice and naked in my bath, studying myself from all angles in the door length mirror. My neat breasts were full and firmly packed, they stood out like milky melons tipped with overripe strawberries. I jiggled them a little with my hands, thinking how I would torment David this way before the night was out. I owed him. Even before I knew why it was I was going to get even with him, I was planning how. 

My hips are gently curved. They swing when I walk in that style called faire des effets de cul by the French which means that my behind adds its little jiggle to the rest of me. I would slip on cut-out panties over these hips. You know the kind, with the essential part of them left out, the better to bring out the true gold of my female fluff. Maybe a garter-belt. No, definitely a garter-belt, because I had some triple sheer gun-metal nylons that would make dear David drool when I crossed my gams so he could see my pale thighs and the black garters that held them up. 

I am not a tease! 

I just wanted to make sure my case-officer-plus-boy friend suffered somewhat for what he was going to do to me. My feminine intuition is rarely wrong. Anderjanian was going to slap me silly with an assignment that would add years to my life. I wanted him to remember me as I was before I began aging. 

My hand turned the shower waters on. I stepped inside the glass walls and slid a bar of soap all over the girl goodies. I would tint myself with perfume after the bath, do up my eyelids green with maybe a sprinkle of sequins across them as well, and don my extra-long fake eyelashes, add a few brush strokes of liquid lip stick and somebody powder for what little of me would not be hidden by my dress, and I would be ready. 

Oh, David! Poor David! What I have in store for you! 

I dawdled over my dressing until the doorbell rang. I ran out of my satin and toile bedroom across the deep pile carpeting of my living room wearing the divided panties, garter-belt with gun-metal nylons and my evening slippers. Like that, I opened the door. 

David was standing there grinning at me. His grin got wider and his eyes round as he took me in. Oh, yeah. My heart sank when I saw the five pound box of candy in his hand. Now I knew I was in for trouble. 

"Come in, come in,” I caroled gaily. 

He came in as I shut the door. I crowded my bod up against his, flinging my bare arms about his neck and letting my nipples scratch themselves on his jacket. I plastered my open mouth on his lips. 

Just as his arms were about to close on me, I slid back and away from him. “Gotta finish dressing, darling!" 

"Eve, wait!”

"Be right back, angel." 

I was topless and practically bottomless as well in those panties. I turned and fled back toward my bed room, knowing damn well that he was ogling my shaking buttocks. Good! I wanted him in a state before we got going. It would prolong his amoral agony for him to sit through a meal with my image dancing around in his head. 

My original see-through St. Laurent was laid out on the bed, all ready for me to scoop it up and slither it over my curves. I bent over to do just that, when I felt David right behind me. His hands went to my hips and then his loins pressed into my behind. 

My plan was working perfectly. David was as erotically aroused as I'd ever known him to be. I nudged him with my back cheeks and heard him moan. 

"Damn you, Eve!"

"Why, darling! What seems to be the trouble?” 

“You're the trouble. You know we have reservations for eight-thirty." 

"And it's only quarter to. We've plenty of time.” 

“That isn't what I meant.” 

I giggled, moving my hips. “Never before the fish, m'sieu. Besides, I'm hungry. We don't have time even for a quickie, love." 

"I'm more than hungry. I'm starving—for you." 

That's the way I like my boyfriend. Utterly anxious. I reached behind me and gave him a gentle squeeze. "Well! You really are on a starvation diet, aren't you? How did that happen?” 

"I've been busy,” he growled. 

I wriggled away from him and into my chiffon see through with the ostrich fluff about my hips. It was an eye-popper. This was the first time I'd worn it, and David swallowed three times, slowly, as his eyes went over me inside it. 

“Take it off," he groaned. “David,” I squealed. “Control yourself!" 

"I mean," he began over again, then closed his eyes. "Oh, never mind. I should have known, this being your last night and all." 

The dog! Now it was his turn to tease.

“What last night? What are you talking about?”

"Sorry, honey. It just slipped out.” 

"Like hell it did. You tell me what's in that animal brain of yours, David Anderjanian, or I'll let something else slip out.” My eyes went to his buffing stick that was making itself known in no uncertain way. 

“Later," he said hopefully. 

I eyed him, he eyed me. We have worked and fought and loved together too long not to know one another almost perfectly. I smiled faintly and arched my neatly trimmed eyebrows. 

“Truce?" I whispered.

"Yeah," he growled, and reached for my mink cape. 

We went out of my posh apartment and into the elevator. The doorman had a cab waiting for us. I frowned, despite the lines it made in my forehead. My case officer is rarely so solicitous of me. Brotherrrrr, I thought wryly, he really has a toughie for me. 

There was a table under muted lighting close to the dance floor of the supper club, with a reserved card on it. A waiter bowed us to the spotless cloth on which was set a small bowl of flowers. David held my chair and I slid into it. 

“We shall dine first,” he said solemnly, "on martini cocktails, double strength. And with them, a serving of pâté de canard." 

My jaw dropped. "Darling," I breathed. "I didn't know.” 

"I want you to remember tonight,” he told me with a smile. “It is something very special.” 

Then it hit me. "You're going to propose!" 

He grinned, the bastard! "Well, not exactly. I have something else in mind.” 

“You can't be going to make me a proposition. Not after what you and I have done together ... really, David! You have me all over goose bumps." 

The waiter came back with the pâté de canard and the double-strength martinis. I sipped. I drank. I ate a little of the pâté. 

“Tell me, David," I wheedled.

“Coax me later,” he murmured, “at your pad.”

"I will, I will indeed," I promised grimly. 

We dined on duckling en casserole that almost melted in our mouths. We made light talk, skirting around the edges of a quarrel which neither of us wanted. I selected a pastry from the wagon and a waiter came and made Irish coffee for us with much twisting of the wrists and delicate pourings of coffee and brandy, topped with a spoon-splash of whipped cream. 

"Pounds," I muttered. “You'll take them off.”

“Doing what?" 

He sipped the Irish coffee. “Tell you when I'm ready." 

“You're always ready,” I grumbled. "A compliment to you, my dear." 

His eyes were seeing through my see-through dress about where a brassiere should have been. He sighed and his eyes beamed. Grudgingly, I told myself I ought to feel complimented. Under the table I kicked off a slipper and lifting my right foot, placed it across his lap. 

"My goodness! You really are ready."

"Your goodness—hah—has nothing to do with it.”

“My goodies, then," I amended.

“Wah—ell..." 

This was my cue to reach for my gloves and hand bag. David came around the table, lifting my mink stole, draping it over my shoulders. No sense in teasing the dear boy too much. Besides, I wanted to know why he was being so fabulous. I walked ahead of him with my hips swaying with just the right amount of sexy come-on. He came on, all right. I couldn't have lost him if I'd wanted to. 

In the taxi, I wrapped arms about him and put my wet lips, open, to his wet lips, open. We clung like a couple of love-in limpets, our tongues darting and twisting. I love the big gom, and I really think he loves me, after his own fashion. Anyhow, he responded to my physical attractions with a certain physical attraction of his own. 

My hand assessed his male strength very gently through his trousers. Poor dear! He was in such a state. He shook all over to the touch of my fingers. A little devil inside me gibbered, Good! He won't be able to refuse you whatever you want to know, in a little while. I cooed and purred into his lips. 

The taxi drew to a halt. I had to get out first at David's insistence, since he wanted to hide himself from the world with me in front of him. He shoved a five dollar bill at the cabbie, told him to keep the change. Well! He certainly was in a hurry! 

He wrapped his arms about me in the elevator and went on kissing me. My upper thigh nudged him this way and that as I pressed against him, keeping him bubbling. I thought he was going to explode when I took his big hand and guided it under my miniskirt and along my bare thigh above my stocking top to the divided panties. 

When the elevator door opened I ran for my apartment door with my twitching rump telling him to fol low me if he wanted to discover treasures. He came after me like a galloping bull who'd been teased beyond endurance. 

"Help yourself to the pinch bottle,” I caroled as I went into my posh suite. 

"I'd rather help myself to something else,” he grinned, walking stiff-legged toward the small mahogany bar that decorates a corner of my big living room. 

I tossed my mink coat one way, my Gucci bag another. I twirled in the middle of the carpeting, arms high. "Darling, undress!" I called. 

David grinned at me from the bar where he was reaching for the glass he'd filled with ice and Haig and Haig scotch. "You first," he laughed. 

My head shook back and forth. "It's always me that strips, I want to see how you look naked. Go on, tempt me." 

He brought my drink to me. I put my hands on his jacket, pulled it off. I undid the buttons of his Gant shirt and pulled the shirttails out of his trousers. Inside a minute, I had him down to his shorts. These I tugged down gently, baring his eagerness. 

"I dig that," I giggled.

“You have it all wrong, sweet. That digs you!”

"Jokes yet! All right, David. Now 'fess up. What's the reason for all this wonderful treatment? I mean, you never treated me so royally before. Roses, champagne, a marvelous dinner. Why, David?" 

His face got grim. I got scared. There was something here I didn't like. He said, “Later. In the bed, after we do a little digging." 

My eyebrows went up. I still tried to put a light face on the situation, but my girlish curiosity wouldn't be denied any longer. I sipped the scotch, I put it down. My fingers went to the hem of the mini-skirted St. Laurent and lifted. My nylons and bare thighs came out into the electric light, then my divided panties and my hard-nippled breasts. 

David got even bigger, staring at me. 

“Tell me, darling," I wheedled, moving closer to him, slipping my arms about his middle. "Or else I won't be able to concentrate on my bed-work." 

His eyes fell to his glass. He said softly, "I'm going to lose you, honey." 

I didn't get it. “How can you lose me? I'm here and we more or less love each other." 

"Not that way. In L.U.S.T., I mean.” 

I drew back as much as his arms would allow me, trying to ignore that part of him poking me between my thighs. My eyebrows scowled. “You mean I've been fired? The General's written me off?” 

The General is the boss-man for the entire League of Underground Spies and Terrorists. I work with and for David Anderjanian, but he's only my case officer. The big shot of L.U.S.T. is The General. 

"No, no. You're our best operative. It's something else. The authorities think you should be transferred to Science Division.” 

“Out of International? No more spy stuff?”

“Well, they need you in Science, or so they say." I wailed, "I'm no scientist, I don't know a damn thing about science. David, you can't let them do this to me.” 

He would have spread his hands, I was sure, except that his hands were busy caressing the bare cheeks of my behind where they jutted out of the open part of my divided panties. He was caressing them so nicely that I was starting to lose interest in my future with L.U.S.T. 

"I have nothing to say about it. The General makes all decisions like that. He told me to come here and break the news.” 

I rested my cheek against his hairy chest. “And you broke it very sweetly, David. Thank you. But what kind of spot can they possibly have for me in Science Division?" 

"Well, for starters, there's the Unhuman."

"How's that again?” 

"That's the name they've given the monster they created in the Bionics Research Institute up in northern Pennsylvania.” 

My brows wrinkled. “You mean it's some kind of Frankenstein's monster?" 

“I suppose you could say that." 

David was hoisting me up by my buttocks, teasing himself and me by nudging his phallus in and around my Venus boskage. He was getting to me where I lived, and I was shivering steadily with anticipation. It was getting harder to talk, to concentrate on what he was telling me. 

"You see,” he went on dreamily, "bionics is the science which deals with the ability of man to duplicate Nature. In other words, what Nature has done for the gorilla in giving him his fantastic strength, or the cheetah its speed, bionics is attempting to do for people." 

"But why?" 

"It's part of the space program, actually. You know about cyborgs—for cybernetic organism—that the space program has been working on, men fitted out with electrodes and other attachments to control heart beat, body temperatures and such, so that man can move about on distant and different planets when we get to them. 

"Well, bionics is attempting to do these cyborgs one better by making a man who will have such special qualities in his body-adapted from the animals—that he'll be able to survive on planets that might kill ordinary human beings." 

His male strength was nudging my Dulcedo Amoris, as the old Romans called it, that particular part of the female's sex apparatus that gives her the thrill chills. There was a roaring in my ears. I couldn't hold back. 

My left leg rose as my right foot raised itself on its toes. David knew what I was after, he felt my hand reaching bodily. His knees bent, so that I could lift up and drink him in. His hands under my behind helped, raising me until I was at the proper height. 

I sank downward onto him.

“Don't you—want to—hear more?” he gasped.

"Later, later," I breathed. 

My hips jerked. David groaned. My hips went a little faster. He gasped and his fingers tightened in my gluteus maximus. My stockinged legs came up to clamp about his loins. He supported my weight with his hands while I let myself go in this el keurchi position of the Arab erotologists. David was a big, strong guy, he could stand here and let my zirab go wild on his zubb. His body shook from time to time as his pleasure became more intense. My hips slowed their pumping motion, began to circle. 

"Hadn't we better—go into the bedroom?” he panted. 

“So walk, David. Walk!” 

He walked, and the resultant stirring of his zubb inside my zirab made me wail out my pleasure long before he reached the bedroom door. I hung on him and let my hips pound out a savage rhythm. David leaned against the door jamb for support as I finished us both off in a private maelstrom of grunts and gasps and groans. 

We shook for a full minute together, like leaves in a gale. When I came out of the orgasmic phase and into the afterglow, I found my teeth buried in his shoulder, my fingernails in his back. 

I dismounted, leaned my head against his chest. 

“The shower," I breathed, “but not yet. Just hold me.” 

Our hearts slowed a little, our body flushes faded out. Our tensions flowed away. We were in that euphoria of satiation the sexologists call 'the resolution phase'. It was great. I just wanted to stay here forever. 

David kissed the top of my head. "I have to take you to the airport at nine tomorrow, honey. It's getting late and you need some sleep.” 

I stirred, feeling the knife going in. “Airport? What airport?” 

"To Valley Rill.”

“What's in Valley Rill?” 

"The monster. The guy who used to be Kenneth Frost." 

I considered that, leaning against his chest. After a time I murmured, “Maybe you'd better begin at the beginning. I have the feeling I've lost you somewhere along the line.” 

"His name was Kenneth Frost. He was one of the bionics engineers at the research institute. The doctors gave him about six months to live, so he donated his body to the Institute. He wanted them to work on him while he was still alive, using their latest bionic techniques. He was a bachelor, he had no relations, he was beholden to nobody. And he believed very strongly in the program.” 

I took his hand and lead David toward the bathroom. 

Turning on the shower water, I slipped out of my divided panties and hose, adding my garter-belt and shoes to the little pile. Then I pulled my case officer into the cascading waters with me. I reached for the soap, began lathering his chest. 

"Go on talking, darling," I breathed. 

The bionics engineers—there were two main ones, Adrian Trent and a Rhea Parker—were happy to get a human being to inject with their amino acids and various parts of different animals. They worked on Kenneth Frost for close to two years, prolonging his life span. 

“When they were done with him, he had all sorts of changes built into his bodily structure. Rhea Parker made up a poem about him: Eye of frog and sense of snake, speed of cat and strength of ape, do Kenneth Frost a monster make. She meant it as a joke at the time, because Frost was still—human." 

A week ago something had gone wrong. Kenneth Frost had died. 

They had sorrowed over him, but they had been grateful. Having had his body to experiment on added vastly to their knowledge. 

My soapy fingers ran around his lower belly. David was showing signs of interest in my own soapy body. “If he died, what's the problem? Where do I come in?” 

“He came back to life!” 

I paused, not quite believing what he was saying, “How's that again?” 

"Nobody knows how it happened. They put his body in a cold storage room. He came back to life or out of a coma or whatever it was that they'd mistaken for death—and escaped. 

"Rhea Parker and Adrian Trent went looking for him on Big Stone Mountain. He saved them both from a cougar, snapping its spine with his hands, but he wouldn't listen to their calls to wait and let them talk to him. He fled off into the night. The two scientists went back to the Institute, a bit dazed. You see, Kenneth Frost had somehow—evolved? Is that the word? Any how, he'd changed into what looked like a huge man bear with golden fur all over his seven foot body." 

"You're putting me on!” 

"No, no. The man has become something Unhuman! 

"But more surprises were in store for the two bionics engineers. When they returned to the Institute, they found a woman waiting there who called herself—Mrs. Kenneth Frost." 

He had me so interested in his story I almost forgot about his big zubb that my hands were soaping. “But you said he was a bachelor!” 

"Will you listen? And—stop that!" 

I smiled down at his extension. "How can you concentrate on something unhuman when you're so marvelously human, David?” 

“It takes concentration. Which you don't have." 

I leaned my hard nipples against his chest and moved them around, making sudsy bubbles. "I have other things, darling." 

His hands gathered me in so I nestled skin to skin with him. His hands went down my back with soap. Those big palms and long fingers ran over my soft buttocks, and when he slid one bit finger along my cheeks crease, I shivered delightfully. 

"Anyhow, this Pamela Frost, this lady who claimed to have been married to Kenneth Frost, went out to look for him. Oh I know, I know. Denning and Trent were just as surprised as you. Kenneth Frost always said he was a bachelor. This was a real bolt out of the blue.” 

My fingers worked along David's personal big bolt. He was starting to shiver with the thrills chasing up and down his elongation and its two attachments. He growled softly, "How can I concentrate on what I'm telling you if you're going to do that?” 

"I haven't the slightest," I giggled.

“I give up. I know when I'm licked.”

"Now that's an idea," I murmured. 

His hand reached for the shower faucet. A stream of warm water deluged us, washing away the soap and the sudsy bubbles. David pushed me out onto the bath mat, grabbing a fluffy Cannon. He began to work me over, drying my skin. When he was done, I caught up another towel and dried him off. 

We made an interesting little tableau in the bathroom mirror once I wiped the mist off the glass. There was I, all pink skin and golden hair, nicely curved and with my breasts dancing lightly to my every move, pinned in front of huge David whose tanned body was quite hairy and bulgy with muscles. Since my behind was to his front, only I knew for sure that he was all man and very excited. 

“Tell me more," I smiled at his reflection. "You little teaser! All right, I will. 

“They found Pamela Frost at the bole of a tree. At first they thought she was dead. They carried her back to the Institute hospital and put her to bed. She recovered quite rapidly, with really nothing much more than bruises and scratches to show where he'd lifted and thrown her against a tree trunk. Oh, yes. And her right hand was crushed.” 

“Crushed?" 

"She said her husband grabbed her there and squeezed. Remember, this Unhuman now has the strength of a gorilla, at least. Or so those bionics engineers claim.” 

“Brrrrr," I shivered. "Wouldn't want to meet him in a dark alley!" 

"How about a dark woods?” 

"Not that, either." 

“Too bad," sighed David. “Because that's your assignment." 

I tried to whirl around and confront him but his hands kept me right where I was. I yelled, "David Anderjanian, are you out of your skull? I'm no animal trainer! What do you think I can do against something like that?" 

"Haven't the faintest. It's your cup of tea." 

I was understandably bitter. "So now it comes out, the reason for the flowers and the champagne and dinner at the supper club. Oh, and what a dirty, under handed way to go about it! And telling me I'm out of International L.U.S.T. and turned over to Science. I wonder what genius thought that one up?" 

"Not me. I only follow orders. They've been running into trouble in Science lately, though. They need a trouble-shooter, somebody like you who can go in and fight. They asked The General for somebody and he put the finger on Eve Drum.” 

"Bless his dirty little heart!” 

David jerked his hips. I felt as if he'd hit me with a club. “Respect, my love. Respect your elders. Someday you'll be old yourself.” 

"I should live so long!” 

His arms went around me, his hands zeroing in on my outstanding attractions, lifting them and giving them a little squeeze. At the same time his hips began a rhythmic slide and pound against my bottom that had the juices flowing in my girlish equipment in hardly any time at all. 

"I hope you live a long time, angel,” he breathed. "Just so you can use me!" 

"Well, I have a pretty good use for you, you must admit.” 

I giggled. He did, too. "Oh, all right. What's the sense of fighting City Hall? Okay. So I leave tomorrow for Valley Rill. But what I don't understand is what I'm supposed to do." 

"Bring him back alive." 

"Is this a put-on? Why don't you hire some hunters with big game rifles to shoot him?” 

"The authorities don't want him shot. They figure his living body is damn valuable to the bionics program. By studying him, they can avoid the apparent mistakes they made and maybe come up with a way to make everybody strong, healthy and big." 

It figured. They never give me an easy way out. A golden bear seven feet tall, and my job was to capture it. Just like that. Well, why not? I'd been doing L.U.S.T.'s dirty work for quite some time. The League of Underground Spies and Terrorists is a by-blow of the Central Intelligence Agency and the National Security Agency. We L.U.S.T. agents go where the others can't because we pull no punches, we fight fire with flame, and we damn well get the job done one way or another. 

"I don't suppose I'll get to see you much more." I muttered. 

This big blond Viking had bossed me around and had taken me to bed with him when the flesh moved him—like now, man—and all in all, had been something to soften the body blows I'd taken as a secret agent for International Division. 

Now duty was calling with a different drum. 

His head bent. His lips kissed my ear. I shivered. I turned in his arms, which were only holding me loosely now. My girl-girl mind was made up, all of a sudden. I was going to make David Anderjanian damn sorry he had let me go so easily to Science Division. 

I moved in on him, my cannons firing hard nipples at his chest hairs. He got a glassy look in his Viking blue eyes that stared down at me as my Venus growth took him where he was standing out in all his male glory, and started caressing him. 

“Nice David,” I cooed. “Darling David." 

He was too far gone to be suspicious. I can turn on the fireworks when I want. And I wanted. My hips writhed and twisted and David shook and shivered. I kind of grew on him, if you know what I mean. 

“Love glove?" I whispered, working my hips.

"Mmmmmmm.” 

Love glove was a new way of doing an old thing. It was a position we'd stumbled into quite by accident. David loved it; so did I. 

I turned and ran toward the bed. I threw myself into the rumpled sheets and blankets and watched him through narrowed eyelids as he came running toward me. He climbed onto the bed, resting on hands and toes as if he were doing push-ups. 

My body slithered down, then I lifted my legs and wrapped them about his lean loins. My hand went in between us, found his 'finger' and inserted it into the 'glove'. My legs tightened, my middle jerked upward. The finger went deep into the glove. 

I was resting on my head and shoulders, hanging onto him with my locked legs. The idea of the 'love glove' is that the finger will not rest comfortably at its first insertion but must be wriggled and twisted until perfect comfort is achieved. Since most of my body was off the bed, it was a simple matter for me to do all the wriggling and twisting necessary. All David had to do was maintain his arched position. 

My hips went wild. 

Maybe it was the idea that I might never get another chance like this, that drove me to new heights. I bounced and dipped and looped until David was in a frenzy of desire. 

"I cah—can't take mah—much more," he breathed. I rammed upward. My legs locked, squeezed tightly. 

David let go with arms and legs, falling forward. His weight doubled me up beneath him so that I was squeezed down on my neck and shoulders. He started shaking. So did I. It went on and on in never-ending ecstasy. 

Tomorrow was a long way off. 

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