Dirk Diver took another swig from the martini glass in his hand, a swig that was casual and languorous, yet somehow masculine and controlled, much like the prose in this book. As the drink poured down his throat he took another look at the female figure stretched out on the bed before him. Then he glanced out the window at the gleaming jeep which carried her along on her outdoor expeditions. It was always exciting to see a woman attempt to prove herself in the field of rugged adventure, even if the attempt was doomed to fail. A woman could drive a jeep about as well as anyone. But the moment that machine broke down she was as helpless as a clam in a cauldron of steaming chowder. Then she needed a man. She needed a man for other things as well.
Ah, how they needed Dirk Diver. Needed his lusty forceful intentions to provide the fulfillment they needed and put them to bed at night. They kept him so tired it was sometimes difficult to get up from bed the next day. They were a distraction from the world of adventure, an entertaining one. As much as he liked women, he liked machines even more. It was a difficult battle, the battle for Dirk’s attention. At the moment the woman was winning.
Maxine Coleman was a woman all right. With her glasses she looked like a prim and determined individual. When she removed the glasses her attractiveness was suddenly apparent. When she removed her blouse it was even more so. She was determined all right. Determined to supply a man with every ounce of lusty pleasure his soul could desire.
“You should take me along on one of those diving expeditions,” she said.
“My large swelling breasts could provide amusing distraction for you.”
“Frankly,” he said, “large breasts can be a problem when it comes to diving. Their added buoyancy can lift a diver right off course.”
“You. Always thinking of business. Can’t you spare a little more time for entertainment?” When he didn’t respond, she went on. “Perhaps you’d
prefer my breasts to be smaller and more saggy.”
“Hardly. Some things should simply stay on land, that’s all.”
“We’re on land now, aren’t we? And yet you haven’t paid attention to my breasts in over fifteen seconds.” She swiveled around to better display the swelling melons which could barely be contained by a flimsy white brassiere. “What’s the matter, are my bulging 34 C-cup breasts not humongous enough to suit your tastes?”
“Frankly, they could be a little bigger.”
“Dirk, what a thing to say! Certainly, I have no complaints about the commendable size of your masculine department.”
“Few women ever do.”
“All right, none.”
As he drew closer to her, he spoke again. “You females may not be much use on diving expeditions, but you certainly can be attractive to look at.”
“That’s not all I’m good for.”
“We’ll see, my pretty trifle, we’ll see.”
“I hoped I could be more than a trifle. To you, I mean.”
“We’ll see. We’ll see.”
“After all, I am a U.S. Congresswoman.”
“So you keep telling me. So you keep telling me.”