Cette publication ne fait pas partie de la bibliothèque YouScribe
Elle est disponible uniquement à l'achat (la librairie de YouScribe)
Achetez pour : 1,99 € Lire un extrait


Format(s) : EPUB - MOBI

sans DRM

The Long, Hot Week


What happens when a happily married man suddenly discovers his wife making passionate love to another... when his seductive and nubile sister-in-law in the aftermath declares her ardent love for him... when he becomes shockingly aware of the moral decadence of the society surrounding him? The answers come in one long, hot week of dramatic, shock-laden developments...

Voir plus Voir moins

The Long, Hot Week

Rick Danton

This page copyright © 2014 Olympia Press.

A torrid house party provided the answer to how permissive a modern husband should be.



There she was, standing beside the bed, the robe falling to the floor. Her ravishing body, the body that never failed to excite him, was before him in all its naked glory.

The proud breasts that rose and fell, as enticing as magnets to his iron manhood, the magnificent silken smooth shoulders, the narrow, yielding waist, then the spreading of hips tapering off to the long, sensuous thighs and legs.

“Just one more time, darling... for old time's sake!” she pleaded, her voice choked with passion. “Be civilized enough to have mercy on a woman who wants you so much she's begging for it.”

Walter tore his eyes from the nudity before him and turned on his side. “Good night. You've got a long, hot week ahead of you. You might as well get used to it.”


“Walter, I can't sleep. It's such a hot night... and I'm so restless...”

The girl standing in the lighted doorway of his bedroom was the most desirable female ever created. She was tall, the figure a dream in curves silhouetted against the light. She wore a diaphanous robe but then he knew what she looked like in every intimate detail.

He was familiar with every inch of her lush flesh, knew the swell and hardness of her breasts, the touch of them against his mouth; he knew the grasp of her long legs, the suppleness of her waist as his arms enfolded her and she bent to him.

But that had been a long time ago, a million years ago, a lifetime ago. That had been before he discovered that she—Ava, his wife—had been to bed with Chris White.

Damn! He turned away in his bed, forcing himself to stop looking at her loveliness. Why did it have to happen? Why did their dream have to break up in so ugly a fashion?

Still, here they were, sharing the same house, talking to each other as always even though many things were left unsaid. They had to behave this way, they had decided, because they were civilized human beings, able to handle matters properly.

But it had been two weeks since they had been to bed together. Two weeks since he had known the heat of her flesh, the torrid rush of her passion. And now, on this hot night, he had been tossing and turning restlessly, his mind remembering, his body yearning.

“Can you sleep?” Ava persisted.

“No. But you'd better go back to your own room. This isn't doing either of us any good.”

“I thought maybe we could talk,” she said. “It would relax us, I was thinking, if we could talk about the coming week. After all, we do have a bunch of our oldest friends showing up in the morning.”

He sat up abruptly and reached for cigarettes. Ava entered the room, not even bothering to draw her robe close. The opening parted and even in the semi-darkness he could see the flash of her thighs, the rise of her breasts as she moved with all her familiar grace.

She took a cigarette from him and he lit it for her. Afraid of the darkness, he reached for the light but she stopped him.

“Please don't turn it on. The light hurts my eyes.”

And the darkness hurts my soul, he wanted to say to her. But he kept quiet, trying not to watch as she sat on the bed to face him, feeling the weight of her body sink in on the mattress, knowing that her lusciousness was only within arm's length, knowing that all he had to do was touch her and it would begin all over again.

She drew on the cigarette. The white smoke billowed out as she raised her head, showing him her clean-cut profile.

“Funny, isn't it?” she asked.

“What's funny? The condition of the world?”

“Funny that we were so close just a couple of weeks ago. Now we're like strangers.”

“That's your fault—not mine.”

“Because of what happened with Chris? I admit that it wasn't the most chic thing in the world to do. In fact it wasn't even exciting. It only seemed like a good idea at the time, for some reason or another. He was there, I was there and we were alone together. It just happened, that's all.”

“I pride myself on being a pretty hep character. I'm a product of my times. Nothing is supposed to shock me. But walking into a bedroom, seeing my own wife in bed with another man, watching them both naked and indulging in some pretty wild sex acts, well, that's a little hard to take.”

“For that you want a divorce? You want me to go to Reno, divorce you and put an end to everything we had together?”

“That's it. No matter how hep I am, I can't understand you having sex with someone else while you're in love with me and married to me.”

“Walter, haven't you ever been unfaithful to me? Not in all the five years?”

“Never. Maybe that denotes me as a naive person, but I've never found a need for any woman but you. You satisfied every urge I had. Does that make me old-fashioned?”

“You? No, you're the most modern man I know. So it shocked me when you got so upset.”

“Oh? You expected me to forgive and forget?”

“I expected you to understand. I expected you to realize I'm a human being capable of making that kind of mortal error. I expected you to love me so much that you could put it in the past.”

“I'm not that hep, Ava. Sorry.”

He took a deep drag of his cigarette. Ava's hand was on the sheet right next to his thigh. His flesh twitched because of her closeness. He could sense her odor, so sweet, so poignant, so much a part of her, especially during the times when they had made such reckless, abandoned love together. She had been so inventive, so ingenious, so demanding, so unsatisfied until hours had gone by and they had found the torrent of liquid, burning sensation together...

He tried to turn his mind off. This was what she had brought to Chris, too, just as she had brought it to him. It had surprised him that he had reacted so violently to the sight on the bed. But reason had gone swiftly to be replaced by hurt, horror and disgust with the woman he had loved so much.

“Walter Lanning,” she said softly. “The sophisticated man. The child of the mid-twentieth century, acting like a primitive male whose lair has been invaded.” Ava shook her head. The long, soft, blond hair waved gently.

Walter grinned at her. “What's the matter? Aren't I sophisticated enough for you? You call me primitive. Still, I didn't scream, pull out a gun and kill you both dead on the spot. It would have taken only one shot, you know, one bullet. It would have gone through him first, then you. You would have died in the throes of supreme bliss. Would that have been more to your liking?”

“I would have hated it,” she said, smiling.

“So what do I do instead? I very calmly leave the two of you to finish what you started and go back out to my car for a long ride. When I returned I apologized for coming home unexpectedly and told you what I had seen. And then, just as calmly, always the civilized man, I asked you to go to Reno for the quickest divorce possible. If that isn't civilized, what is?”

She reached forward and patted his cheek. He was surprised at the warmth of her hand. It reminded him of the rest of her body warmth, of the warmth of her mouth upon him, of the warmth of her limbs, growing hotter with each movement and each moment, drawing upon him and his manhood, taking him into her with a consuming heat that would not be denied.

“And I'm just as civilized as you, darling,” she whispered. She was leaning close now, too close. Her breasts, heavy and hanging, brushed lightly against his chest. “Wasn't I the one who proposed inviting all our friends—those who were at our wedding—for a week here in the country to announce our divorce? That's the height of something or other.”

“Very jolly indeed,” he replied.

He was wishing she would go away, wishing she would go back to her own room, her own bed, away from him, away from the rising need of his flesh.

“I think it will be just wonderful,” she went on, her hand moved toward his thigh and onto it. It was all he could do to keep from grasping her and taking her to him, to keep from flinging the covers away from his body and letting her see for herself what she was doing to him.

“Everybody will be here,” she said, letting her hand rest where it had landed. “Lloyd and his wife Bonny; Avery and Iris Colby; Doug and Pamela; Kevin, your cousin, and, oh, yes... my sister Fay, of course. After all, she lives with us.”

“The list is not quite complete,” Walter said. “You left out another guest at our wedding, my dear.”

Ava shrugged. “I didn't think it would be quite in the best of taste to invite him.”

“Not invite the man who's responsible for our up-coming divorce? Not invite Chris White? Ava, how could you be so gauche?”

Ava laughed lightly, throwing back her head and in doing so, pushed her breasts forward, her back arched into that bending of desire that had succumbed to him so often. Her hand moved upward on his thigh. He closed his eyes and cursed her to himself.

“Ava!” he cried. “Don't!”

She stopped laughing and looked at him. Her eyes were cool and calculating. “Don't what, Walt?”

“You know damned well what!” He took her hand and flung it away. “You're trying to get to me, you know that!”

Smiling gently now, she raised her hands to her breasts and cupped the hard mounds.

“What's wrong with that? We're modern people, aren't we? We're a man and a woman and we still want each other, don't we? Say we don't, darling. Say I'm wrong... I'll walk out of here and leave you alone.”

He had to force the words and they came out through clenched teeth. “I don't want you, Ava. Now get the hell out of here!”

“It'll only be a normal event. Just like between two animals, two creatures in animal heat. All we'll be doing is satisfying our basic instincts, that's all. We can forget it as soon as it's over. I'll go back to my lonely bed and you can go to sleep. It won't make any difference in your plans regarding you and me. I'll go to Reno as you want.”

“Ava, you're being a child.”

“But I can't sleep and neither can you! Besides, it's a very hot night and you know what hot weather does to me.”

“And cool weather and cold weather. Your sexual impulses are affected by everything... including Chris White. Now listen to me. I've taken two weeks off from Romburg & Company.

They'll have to dispose of real estate without me for a while. One week will be devoted to our old friends and the second will be used to get myself settled in town while you're in Reno. And that, my dear wife, will be the termination of our married bliss. Now go to bed and let me get some sleep.”

“Sleep! Look at me! Look at me and forget your damned civilized demeanor for a half hour!”

There she was, standing beside the bed, the robe falling to the floor. Her ravishing body, the body that had never failed to excite him, was before him in all its naked glory.

The proud breasts that rose and fell, as enticing as magnets to his iron manhood, the magnificent, silken smooth shoulders, the narrow, yielding waist, then the spreading of the hips, tapering off to the long, sensuous thighs and legs.

“Just one more time, darling... for old time's sake!” she pleaded, her voice choked with passion. “Be civilized enough to have mercy on a woman who wants you so much she's begging for it.”

“I'll never be that civilized. I can't have sex with a woman who's a nympho for another man.” Walter tore his eyes from the nudity before him and turned on his side. “Good night. You've got a long hot week ahead of you. You might as well get used to it.”

He was trembling with desire as she picked up her robe. She dragged it after herself as she left his bedroom. But he could not surrender, he could not give in to his animal needs at the cost of his pride as a man.

And neither could he sleep. He reached into the drawer of his bedstand and found the bottle of sleeping tablets. The small red pills were his only resource; they always brought blessed sleep, especially since that terrible night. He took a pill without water and closed his eyes to wait for oblivion.

When did it happen? And why did it happen? It couldn't be real. It was a dream, one induced by desire and memory. Befogged by the daze of sleep, lifted by the pills into an area of soft lights and billowing movement, he sensed the presence of Woman. But only the touch of her, only the touch of her hands... and her mouth.

He twisted, aroused by the softness and the warmth of her skilled mouth. If this was a dream, let it happen, let it go on and on until he was released by it. He was still on his side but the covers had been removed. And the mouth was upon him, slowly, silkily running down his hips, his thighs.

It was the way Ava had always inspired him even at his most tired times. It was the way she had awakened him, making him forget everything but his aroused need for her. But this was not Ava, he told himself; this was only the memory of her in a dream.

Now the two soft hands of the dream were on him, turning him so that he was supine on his back. And the mouth and tongue continued their work. They started at his chest, biting him with small nibbles, making him squirm in near hysteria. He wanted more; he wanted the mouth to be quicker and not tantalize him with its splendid torture.

He felt the heat of the mouth move downward on his body, onto his stomach, and linger there. And then, when he thought he could bear no more he must have screamed in his dream as his body arched upward to meet the hot breath and the soft, engulfing lips.

The real Ava had done this many times before but never to completion. It had always been the beginning, the means by which she brought him and herself to the pitch of excitement. But she had never completed the act, being too hungry to be satisfied in any way other than the deep, satisfying thrust of himself into her.

But now the Ava of the dream did not stop, not even when his excitement was at its peak. Instead, she was more vigorous than ever, more demanding, more hungry for him in this manner.

And he found himself responding, moving his body to the rhythm of her mouth, feeling the pulsations increase, feeling himself about to explode in a torrent of sensation unlike anything he had ever known awake. His head spun until there was nothing but the rapid throbbing of every inch of his body, until there was nothing but the heat of her as it absorbed the furnace of molten lava that inundated the entire world.

He fell back, darkness closing in at last, exhausted so that sleep could not be denied. And in the blackness he thought he was aware of a white body rising from beside the bed, the white body of his wife as she looked down upon him for a moment in a kind of sad triumph. And then she turned and walked away, out of the room, closing the door behind herself.

Oblivion had come at last to the tortured body and soul of Walter Lanning.

But not for Fay Ruppert. Not for the younger sister of Ava as she leaned against the wall of her bedroom, only a wall dividing her from Walter's room.

She had not heard the actual words of the earlier conversation. She had heard only the soft mumble. But there had been no mistaking the tempestuous sounds of sex, of man overpowered by woman; the groans and the muffled screams, the hissing, the gasps.

She, young, lithe in her nudity, had pressed her pulsating body against the wall, pushing her hips into it with an urgency to match the beat from the other room.

She had breathed harshly, “Oh, why couldn't that be me with him? Why couldn't it be me doing everything to him to make him the happiest man in the world?”

But then it was over. She had collapsed, astonished at the waves of passion and release that had overcome her. Amazed at the weak trembling of her body. Ashamed of the betrayal of her senses, knowing she had done to herself what she wanted Walter, her brother-in-law, to do to her.

When she finally crawled into bed in the hush that had now come over the house, she wondered how long she could resist the overpowering urge to betray herself to the one man she loved... the one man in all the world who was forbidden to her.



Fay Ruppert adored her sister Ava. The older girl was the ideal person in every way. After their parents retired to Florida, Ava invited Fay to move in with her and her husband Walter. On the surface it seemed like a happy arrangement. Fay was a first-grade teacher at Wembley School in the district and the Lanning house was large, being on what had once been a ranch in the San Fernando Valley. There was plenty of room and no one got in anyone's way.

The only thing that got in anyone's way was the conflict within young Fay. She had always had a secret crush on Walter, but now, blooming into maturity, she realized she was in love with the man married to her sister. Her feelings weren't easy to control but Fay felt she concealed them pretty well.

She was happy, however, in the knowledge that the Lanning marriage was ideal. They were a handsome, modern couple, with everything they wanted. Lately, soon after having come back from a trip, she sensed that something had gone wrong.

Fay saw that relations between them were strained toward one another. The spark between them was gone. In spite of the fact that both still maintained the air of sophistication that was so much their mark, there was an undercurrent of trouble in the Lanning household.

Her chance came when early Sunday morning, Walter had gathered his fishing tackle and run up to Lake Sherwood for bass fishing. They were having a cup of coffee. Fay asked her sister directly if anything was wrong. Ava didn't hedge.

“Do you remember that day you went to Hollywood, Fay? Walt was gone, too. He was off showing property to prospective clients. I was alone in the house. I had this terrible headache. I guess it was the smog and the heat beginning to blow in from the desert. Whatever it was, I couldn't seem to shake it off. Well, I took a drink of brandy, thinking it would help.”

Ava paused. She looked out the window into the patio toward the distant San Gabriel hills.

“But you can't drink, Ava,” Fay said. “You never could, especially during the day.”

Ava nodded. “I drank that day, pet. One drink didn't seem to do it so I took another. And then another. After a while I realized I was pretty drunk. So I stretched out on the couch and passed out. Brrrrh! It was an awful feeling, believe me!”

“My goodness! Walt isn't sore at you because of that, is he?”

“It gets worse, Fay,” Ava rose and walked to the window, her back to her sister. “Someone came to the house that day, pet. He's an old friend with the run of the place. It seemed he called my name. When I didn't answer, he came right in and found me asleep. There's something else, Fay. I... I had taken off my clothes because of the heat... all of my clothes. And there I was lying stark naked when Chris White walked in.”

“Oh, God, Ava! No!”

“Fay, yes, horrible as it sounds. But it wasn't horrible to me when he bent over me and kissed my breasts, my mouth. I awoke to the thrill of his kisses, of his hands all over me.”

“But you love Walt!”

“Of course I do. Only I wasn't Walt's wife then. I was a woman, drunk, naked, and being practically raped by a very handsome man who had lost control of himself. He picked me up and took me upstairs into my bedroom. And that was where it happened, Fay. I was delirious with excitement. This was something different. There was no love attached to it. Only sex. Raw, ravishing, dizzy sex. I wallowed in it, I'm sorry to tell you. But it had nothing to do with my love for Walt.”

“Ava, I can't believe what you're saying! Walt's such a wonderful man! How could you carry on with someone else?”

“I don't know, Fay. I just don't know. Please remember that I wasn't myself. Neither was Chris himself, the poor dear. We were both simply carried away by the circumstance of the moment.”

“It's hard to understand. Having Walt as a husband and—”

“Are you ready for this? Walt came home unexpectedly and saw us.”

“My God! What a horror for him!”

“Yes, dear.” Ava turned and looked at her sister in curiosity. “And a horror for me, too, wouldn't you say? Anyway, Walt didn't make a scene. He left without letting us know he was there. He came back later to tell me he had seen what had taken place between Chris and myself.”

“What a man!” Fay exclaimed. “There's no one like Walt.”

“I couldn't agree more. But he wouldn't overlook what had happened. I tried to explain to him exactly the circumstances under which Chris and I had gone to bed. He wouldn't accept them. And so...” Ava lowered her head for a moment and then lifted it, her eyes glistening with tears even though she was smiling. “And so I leave the week after next to take up residence in Reno. I'm getting a divorce.”

Fay felt her heart sink within her breast. And with it went her respect for her sister, the sister she had idolized, the sister who had married the perfect man, then betrayed him.

She felt something else. Something deeper, more important, more profound, more devastating. Her ideal, her concept of love was gone, too. Along with her faith and her belief in marriage. If Walter and Ava couldn't make it, how could she or anyone else expect to succeed?

But underneath it all was the burning strength of her desire for Walter; the seething in her loins, the sweet ache in her breasts.

She listened in stunned silence to Ava, to the plan to have their old friends in for the week so they could announce, as modern sophisticates, the breaking up of their marriage. How could they? she thought. How could they keep up this phony facade, this mock civility, in the face of heartbreak and betrayal, in the face of smashed dreams and ideals?

She no longer understood Ava. Her sister was a stranger. She saw Walter as a slighted human being, a man whose manhood had been insulted. She could not understand how he had let himself be seduced by her that terrible night, how he had let his body be submitted to her blandishments... the harlot! The nymphomaniac! The slut!

Now, on this Monday morning as she sat before her mirror, she had to put on her best and brightest face. She would smile, her eyes sparkling and help welcome the guests coming to hover over the debacle like insidious vultures. She was no better than the rest of them. She had her own secret thoughts, her own seething need for Walter.

She brushed her copper hair furiously, watching the wavy locks burnished to sparkling life. After the week was over, after the others were gone, after Ava had left for Reno, she too would go away. She could not trust herself alone with Walter. It would be vital for her to leave, to get herself lost in some other world, a world without men, without the risks of love.

A horn blasted outside. She went to the window. A car was driving up and Walter was going out to meet it. She turned away, unable to look at him, at that straight back, at the long stride of those muscular legs.

“Well!” Lloyd Dixon exclaimed as he got out of his car. “It's good to see you, old buddy. You feeling okay? You look a little peaked.”

“I'm all right,” Walter said, unable to look his best man in the eye. “Hey, Bonny! Come on out and let me take a look at you—you lovely creature.”

The girl who got out of the car to embrace him was a small, attractive, frivolous blonde with all the earmarks of a brainless chatterbox. Once, years before, her manner had intrigued Lloyd. But he soon discovered that her child-like habits were irritating beyond description and he had fallen out of love with her. But the idea of divorce never entered his mind. Leaving Bonny would be like abandoning a helpless child.

“Oh, Walt!” she exclaimed as she kissed his cheek. “Thank you so much for inviting us to your lovely place! Lloyd and I were going crazy with boredom out at the beach. That fog and all, you know. And all those nutty surfers and their girls. I swear I don't know what this world is coming to.”

She kept up the chatter while Walter escorted her into the house, kept it up while Ava and Fay-greeted her, never pausing, afraid to stop lest the world close in on her. The truth was that Bonny felt herself unworthy of her husband.

So long as she kept talking she would not have to think. She wouldn't have to remember that she'd always been a small ugly duckling who only found herself attractive with the aid of modern cosmetics, flashy clothes and endless chatter. Lloyd Dixon at thirty-three was tall, distinguished; handsome to the extreme so that women were always casting secretive, desiring glances at him. He never seemed to notice them but Bonny did. And she knew that one day he would take a cold look at her and leave forever.

But she tried to forget that day in her talk, talk that she kept up while Ava took her up to the room assigned to them.

Alone with Ava, she looked at the woman in awe.

“My goodness, Ava, you certainly do manage to keep as beautiful as ever! I swear you haven't changed a bit since you were a bride.”

“Thank you, Bonny.” Ava wished she could return the compliment but the truth was that Bonny had become even more bird-like since she had...


Ce thème est destiné à un public légalement majeur et averti. Il contient des textes et certaines images à caractère érotique ou sexuel.

En entrant sur cette page, vous certifiez :

  • 1. avoir atteint l'âge légal de majorité de votre pays de résidence.
  • 2. avoir pris connaissance du caractère érotique de ce document.
  • 4. vous engager à ne pas diffuser le contenu de ce document.
  • 4. vous engager à ne pas diffuser le contenu de ce document.
  • 5. consulter ce document à titre purement personnel en n'impliquant aucune société ou organisme d'État.
  • 6. vous engager à mettre en oeuvre tous les moyens existants à ce jour pour empêcher n'importe quel mineur d'accéder à ce document.
  • 7. déclarer n'être choqué(e) par aucun type de sexualité.

Nous nous dégageons de toute responsabilité en cas de non-respect des points précédemment énumérés.