"Дон Пендлтон. California Hit ("Палач" #11) " - читать интересную книгу автора

Bolan, what the hell, looked her over and liked what he was looking at.
Any man would. She had those flowing lines and flawless skin that a guy
associates with erotic fantasies, large swollen breasts with the pinkest
nipples Bolan had seen anywhere, firm and erect as any plastics job could
assure - one of those ripple-soft bellies plunging into velvet thighs and
belled hips, a swooped rear-deck with the soft overhang visible even from
the front.
Sure. She had it all, right where it belonged and in ideal portions.
"If it isn't organic I wouldn't touch it," she was telling him.
Again Bolan turned away from her and fiddled with the stove. He didn't
know about the coffee crystals, but Bolan himself was sure as hell organic,
one hundred percent male organic, and it was no time for delectable female
pastries to be flaunting themselves at his maleness.
"Honesty," she was saying in that old-young girl's voice. "That's what
this sick world needs the most. No deceits, no additives or deductives, just
pure organic honesty."
He said, "Yeah, with all the chemicals left out." He could have done
without a few male type chemicals himself, at the moment.
When he looked again the towel was lying on the floor of the bathroom
and the girl and the blanket had returned to the couch.
She was lying there on her side, an elbow in supporting position and
the blonde head elevated and resting on an honest palm. The blanket was
riding loosely amidships and not providing much in the way of warmth or
security. Just honesty.
He told her, "It's plain old mountain grown Folgers, and if it's good
enough for Mrs. Olsen, then it ought to be good enough for anybody. Do you
want some or don't you?"
She suggested, "Why don't you come over here and ball me awhile first."
He said, "What?"
"Ball. You know."
Bolan poured the steaming water into his cup and growled, "Thanks, not
now."
The girl shrugged and said, "Square."
He said, "Sane."
She giggled.
He growled, "Putting me on, weren't you."
"Not all the way. I wouldn't mind if you really wanted to. I mean,
what's the hassle? Person to person, that's what life is. Right?"
He said, "I guess so."
"I mean, if you want to slurp and hunch awhile, and if that'll make you
happy, then why not? Right?"
He said, "Pure organic honesty, eh?"
"Right. I mean, why get turned off by a shot of honesty? That's what
you did. Right? You turned off the minute I started laying it out. I mean,
it's natural for girls to pee, you know. All of us do. So why do it behind
closed doors? Right?"
"I guess it's a matter of conditioning," he told her.
"But it turned you off. Can you admit that?"
He smiled. "Maybe."
"Male chauvinist pig," she said lightly. It didn't sound as though she