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CHAPTER ONE

There is nothing like an air-conditioned movie on a hot night in New York City—well, almost. We didn't really care what was playing. My date, Mac Morris, and I selected the theater with the shortest line. It turned out to be a horror movie dealing with black magic and soul possession. I enjoyed it for what it was, I'm made that way, but Mac started carping about the unbelievability of the subject matter as soon as we left the theater. The heat from the hot August night practically overpowered us as we reached the street.

"Whoo," he said, taking my arm. "Want to go to another movie?"

"Another one?" I laughed. "You didn't even like this one."

"Well, Eve," he replied, his tan face serious, "it's hard for me to enjoy a film that has nothing to do with reality. I find all that mumbo-jumbo a bit hard to swallow."

"I thought it was diverting," I replied. "And some of the scenes were downright scary."

"I didn't mind that part. I loved it every time you squealed and snuggled your head against my shoulder. But things like that are so unreal."

"You're too much of a realist. I've seen some things in this world which I can't explain and I doubt if anyone else could either."

"Such as?"

"Oh, I don't want to go into it now, but I feel that when people believe something very strongly, that the belief in itself has power. Isn't that what religion is all about? Especially the more primitive ones?"

"It's too hot to argue. Let's catch a cab and go to dinner. What do you feel like having?"

"Something light. Perhaps seafood."

"Great! I know a place only four blocks from here called The Blue Dolphin. It's expensive, but they serve some of the best seafood this side of the Cape."

It sounded good to me so we turned right on 59th Street and walked slowly to First Avenue. It was the hottest night in the heatwave which had been sweltering New York for two solid weeks. I dressed wisely for the occasion in a short, apricot-colored Qiana dress which clung to my body beautifully. My date was wearing a pair of tight white duck slacks and a patchwork shirt that I had bought for him at the men's boutique at Bloomingdale's. We strolled leisurely down First Avenue holding hands like teenagers. When we reached The Blue Dolphin we were welcomed by an icy blast of cold air.

"Oh, that feels delightful!" I said, standing in the entrance-way, pretending to be oblivious to the stares of the men at the bar. He took my arm and the maitre d' showed us to a quiet booth.

"Would you like a drink?" the waiter asked.

"I sure would. Something tall, cool, and delicious. I think a vodka and tonic. Only instead of lime, could you put a slice of cucumber in it?"

"Cucumber?" Mac repeated. "I've never heard of that."

"Mmmm! You ought to try it. It makes it a bit sweeter and much more refreshing."

"Make that two," Mac said to the waiter. Then he turned his handsome face to me and asked again, "You really liked that movie,

Eve?"

"Yes, I did," I replied. "It was fun, and it took my mind off things."

He smiled, his teeth sparkling like porcelain.

"What great problems have you got in your pretty little head?"

Isn't that just like a man? What problems indeed! Of course, I had given Mac the impression that I was independently wealthy and didn't have to work, and that my occasional trips were due to family matters. He didn't know that I was not Eve Drum, poor little rich girl, but Eve Drum, the Lady from L.U.S.T. A secret agent for the League of Underground Spies and Terrorists. Mac was a writer of detective fiction. Although he had never written a best seller, he made a good living from his writing. But, like most writers of fiction, his imagination was limited by his view of reality. With my adventures in L.U.S.T., I probably had been through more far-out experiences and hairbreadth escapes than he could ever dream up, sitting safely in his mahogany-paneled study. I wonder how he would react if he really knew the truth about me and L.U.S.T.

L.U.S.T. had begun some years ago as a result of the Cold War and the activities of foreign spies in the United States. L.U.S.T.

has no official status. It is a by-blow of the Central Intelligence Agency. Only a limited few know of its existence at all.

The agents of L.U.S.T. are often given assignments which are criminal in nature. I have lied, stolen and yes, even killed for L.U.S.T. Why? I am not sure of the reasons myself. I suppose I enjoy the excitement, the high living, and the pay, which is extremely good, if sub rosa. After all, every time I am on assignment there is a rather strong possibility that I might be killed.

Our drinks arrived, and as my handsome blond friend tried his, an expression of pleasure spread over his face. "Say, this is really good. You're right. A cucumber is a lot better than a lime."

"I thought you'd like it."

"You society girls. You certainly know how to live."

I batted my baby blues and smiled. Society girl indeed! If he had only known my background.

My mother was a poet of sorts and instilled in me a love of the arts. My father had been a locksmith, and quite a good one. When I was still a teenager, he taught me the art of opening safes and combination locks. I used to practice on the locks Daddy brought home until my fingertips were raw. I envisioned becoming an expert safe-cracker. I took classes in judo and karate and am rather good at them. In fact, I'm a wearer of the black belt. I swim like a dolphin, am an expert marksman, and can sail a boat. I am an athlete, a femme fatale, and a walking encyclopedia—all rolled into one gorgeous package. There aren't any society girls who can make that statement. I'd been working as a secretary in Florida when I accidentally got involved with L.U.S.T. An agent recognized my capabilities and introduced me to David Anderjanian, who impressed me immediately. He was a huge Viking of a man, six feet four inches tall and built like a pro-football lineman. He became my case officer and eventually my lover. I perform in business and in bed with equal proficiency. As a matter of fact, the other L.U.S.T. agents christened me Double Oh Sex. I've always tried to live up to that name.

"What are you thinking?" Mac asked, bringing me out of my reverie.

"Double Oh Sex," I replied without thinking.

He laughed softly, "Oh, Eve. You're incorrigible, but then that's why I love you."

Ignoring his declaration I said, "Perhaps we should order." I picked up the menu and studied it. I decided on an avocado stuffed with lobster as an appetizer, followed by soft shell crabs and a tossed salad. Mac ordered a shrimp cocktail, a swordfish steak, and a salad. Dinner arrived and was delicious.

After the waiter had cleared away the dishes, Mac asked me if I would like coffee and dessert.

"Coffee, yes; dessert, no. I have a surprise for you back at the apartment."

I ordered an espresso with a twist of lemon and Mac ordered American coffee which he diluted with three sugars and a large amount of cream. I sipped my coffee and thought about my relationship with Mac. True, he was my lover, but so was David Anderjanian. I've always felt that a woman can't have too many lovers. I was very fond of Mac. I met him several months earlier in a supermarket. Our affair hadn't gotten off to a very good start. Before we had even gotten to know one another, I had been whisked off by L.U.S.T. to Venezuela on an assignment. When I got back, I called Mac and we've been dating steadily ever since.

It was a welcome relief not to be working. I was thoroughly enjoying myself with Mac, catching up on the Broadway shows, going to the beach, or just playing backgammon or Monopoly together. I knew I would have to go back to work eventually, but I hoped not too soon. I was having too much fun. After Mac and I left the restaurant, we caught an air-conditioned cab to my apartment in the East Sixties. Charlie, my doorman, greeted us as we hurried into the cool lobby.

"Is it hot enough for you, Miss Drum?"

"Too hot, Charlie," I replied. "I really wish it would rain."

"Paper says maybe tomorrow," he replied prophetically.

"I hope not!" said Mac.

We rode the elevator upstairs. I handed my keys to Mac, who unlocked the door to my delightfully cool apartment.

"Are you all packed for tomorrow?" Mac asked.

"Practically," I replied. "I'm not taking much except a string bikini and my birth control pills."

"That's my girl," he said, patting me on my well-rounded behind. "Now, where's that surprise?"

"I'll have it ready in a minute." Mac went over to the stereo and put on a stack of my favorite records. I went into the kitchen and took out a bottle of 1964 Dom Perignon champagne, and put it into a silver bucket with some ice cubes. Then I got two champagne glasses and placing everything on a tray, carried it into the living room and put it down on the coffee table.

"Champagne!" said Mac. "I thought we

were having dessert."

"We are," I replied. "The dessert is coming, but with it nothing but champagne, the best champagne, will suffice."

I took my creation out of the refrigerator. It was something I had learned to make when I attended a French cooking school, made with layers of baked meringue and tiny strawberries flown in from France in between the layers. Scattered among the strawberries were slivers of bittersweet chocolate. It is divine, one of the desserts with which I indulge myself. When I brought it out, Mac clapped his large hands together and said, "Eve, you're fantastic! Not only are you the most beautiful woman in the world and the best lay I've ever had, but you're also a great cook."

"I'm glad you put them in that order."

I ran hot water over a sharp knife and sliced the cake, placing large portions on two Scandinavian dessert dishes.

"Eve," said Mac, spearing his second forkful of the dessert, "this is out of this world! I'll have to start going back to the gym. I'm gaining a few pounds around the middle."

"We'll take care of that later," I replied seductively.

He opened the champagne and filled our glasses. We toasted each other, then sipped the bubbly ambrosia. The champagne relaxed us and put us in the mood for lovemaking. Mac caressed my shoulder and turned my face to meet his. He pressed his lips against mine and I knew him well enough to know he was as ready as I was.

We took what was left of the champagne into my bedroom. I turned down the covers on my giant bed and began to undress. Mac took off his patchwork shirt and once again I gazed at the marvelous width of his shoulders and his well-formed pectoral muscles. He kicked off his shoes, took off his socks, and unzipped his fly, let his pants fall to the floor. He wasn't wearing any underwear and when he bent over to pick up his pants, I realized how turned on I was by his high muscular ass. It was beautifully formed and tan except for a small area of pale flesh which had been covered by his brief swimming suit. I slid my dress over my head and hung it up. I stepped out of my shoes and was completely naked except for my bikini panties. Mac walked toward me, his penis preceding him. He wrapped his arms around me and the heat from his throbbing muscle burned through the sheer material of my panties. He ran his hands down my back and when his fingertips reached the elastic band, he slid under and cupped my buttocks in his hands.

"Let me," he said hoarsely as he knelt to the floor, pulled my bikini panties down to my ankles, and helped me out of them. He wrapped his arms around my thighs and buried his face in my blonde hair.

"Eve, I love you!" he moaned. His words burned against the soft recesses of my flesh. He stuck his tongue out and flattened it against my pubic area. It was as hot as the night outside. He placed his hands between my legs, forcing my thighs further apart and began his labial loving.

Mac Morris was an expert at all kinds of lovemaking, but in this form of love worship, he was the absolute tops. I threw my head back and groaned softly as he laved me with his tongue, working me into an absolute frenzy.

Then he stood, picked me up in his strong arms and carried me to the bed. I was trembling with anticipation. My silvery blonde hair spilled across the pillows and I opened up my arms to receive him. He kissed my body and caressed it with his hands. His eyes were half-closed and he was breathing hard as he pressed his strong body against mine, rubbing his hairy chest across my nipples. He kissed me deeply and I lightly pushed him away so that he rolled onto his back. It was my turn to please him. I kissed him on his eyelids and let my tongue trail lightly over his face, kissing the tip of his nose and tracing the outline of his full, sensuous lips. Then I kissed and sucked on his chin, working my way over to his earlobes and neck, stroking, kissing, and biting lightly. He groaned with pleasure. I ran my fingertips down the insides of his arms and our fingers intertwined. I moved down his chest kissing and sucking on his nipples until they became hard. Then I covered his chest and stomach with little bites as I inched down his body until I could feel the brush of his blond pubic hair beneath my chin. I moved further down. Clasping his manhood in both hands, I bent forward and kissed it on the tip. Then my mouth formed an "O" and I took him inside. He writhed on the bed, twitching and jerking his thighs as I loved the full length of his masculinity. I cupped his testicles in my hands and squeezed them lightly as I bobbed my head up and down. When I'd finished, Mac was quivering with excitement. I moved up and kissed him on the lips, and his pulsating organ slid inside me. He lifted me up and I felt him drive deep into my heated flesh. My body responded to his, my hips churned as I panted in the female—above position made so famous by Aloysia Sigea in the Satirae So tadicae de arcanis Amoris et Veneris, in which Sempronia so enjoyed Crisogeno. My hips undulated and my breasts bounced wildly as I rose and fell to meet him. Then Mac moved to the edge of the bed. I locked my legs around his hips and he stood up. Carrying me, he walked over to my mirrored wall, our flesh becoming more inflamed with passion as we watched the reflection of our love-making twins. I whispered sweet nothings in his ear, then we clawed at each other's flesh and cried out as we came together.

After the surge of climax had passed, Mac lowered himself on trembling legs and we both lay spread out on my white carpet, panting. He held my hand as we gently came back down to earth and our breathing slowly returned to normal. Suddenly he turned to me and said, "Hey, do you know what I'd like? Another piece of that cake."

"Why not? You've had a piece of everything else!"