Snake Read Free

aware her bosom was gradually pushing out. Soon both patches would be catching the light.
    “What sort of funny feelings?” he asked. “Do you think they’re like mine?”
    “How should I know?”
    “I—I can’t put mine into words,” he said.
    “Nor mine either,” she said, letting her knees slowly part.
    He gulped down what was left in his mug. Sweat seeped onto his brow. It must have felt like a wet dream coming true.
    Her breasts were out. Round and full, but not so heavy she got a heat rash under them, as some did. Tanned a deep orange like the rest of her. Every bit.
    “Something embarrassing you?”
    “No!” He looked away.
    Again, she knew what to do. She pulled Clint’s head around and guided him to slide down off her shoulders, parting her cleavage. This made the adhesive prickle and the patches feel as if they might pop off.
    “Christ,” he said, staring.
    She took Clint and redirected him so that he eased back up around her neck, his tongue flickering soft against her skin, his two little feet scratching as he twisted and used his belly scales. She moved as sensuously as the snake did, working him into a comfortable position, and then she held him there.
    “I told you about staring,” she murmured.
    “You actually … I mean, you really do get a.…”
    “Isn’t that why you came round here tonight?”
    “No, I didn’t.…”
    “The show? Didn’t turn you on, too? Or is it only us girls?”
    Clint was heading down between her breasts, running a sleek chin over her hard little belly. She let him think he was getting away, then clamped his head tight in her thighs, halting his slither, for just a second.
    He went pale.
    “Do you like the encore, baby?” she asked, parting her legs and allowing Clint to gain the floor. The python naturally went straight under the dressing table.
    “Pardon?” he said, coming down off tiptoe.
    “Does he make you feel jealous?” she asked, lolling back, an elbow in a mess of spilled powder. “That’s what most of them say. That Clint makes them jealous. Green, that’s the color they go.”
    He took a pace toward her and then said, “Will it stay there?”
    “My feelings are getting even funnier.”
    “But will the snake…?”
    “He’ll come if I whistle.”
    “Will you?”
    “What?” she asked, making her smile dirty.
    The gown slipped from her shoulders. She stood, ankles well apart, hands on hips, then began humming an opening number, lifting one shoulder at him and then the other.
    His eyes darted from her to the floor and back.
    “Touch,” she invited.
    He saw her mouth pout to whistle.
    “Come on, it’s not cold,” she said. And whistled very softly.
    He started back. “Jesus, Eve.…”
    She began thrusting with her hips, jiggling her bosom, but all very slowly and in time to the soft, soft whistle.
    Then turned her mouth into a big, welcoming smile.
    His hand reached out for her, but she swayed back, teasingly. To touch her, he would have to take another step forward. He looked at the foot of the dressing table, as if measuring the distance with his eye.
    “What’s the matter, baby? Haven’t you got?”
    And she imitated the rearing action of her other pet, spreading her hand like a hood, and laughing at how funny this was. Which rather shocked her.
    “For Christ’s sake!”
    He was pointing behind her. Clint must have peeped his head out.
    “Oh, so that’s what turns you on? I’ve got one like a little apple!”
    Old gags always found their uses. And she turned, standing now with her ankles together, and smiled at him over her shoulder. While tightening one thigh muscle and then the other, knowing this would make her bottom bunch and bounce.
    Bunch and bounce.
    He had to. He started toward her. She raised her arms slightly so that he could slip his hands around and cup her, squeeze her, grab her.
    As his sweating palms brushed her sides, she bent forward and dragged Clint out by the tail so his underneath rasped on the