Chapter Two

She threw back the canvas top on the shiny red Spider, slid into the sun-warmed leather seat, and fired up the ignition. Carefully, she eased the purring sports car out of the lot, and turned to head north: another California blonde, carefree with the wind in her hair, roaring along the strip on a warm summer’s twilight. Crissy purposely avoided the Freeway, and chose instead to follow the old coast road for quite a ways before turning inland, entering the foothills as the coast fell away below and behind her. She cautiously wound up the curving road, climbing gradually higher, till the scraggly desert plants gave way to larger pines, trees that crowded thickly along the serpentine road, making the night seem even darker and more menacing. He had made some joke about his place being “a little out of the way” -- now she knew what he meant!

Keeping an eye on her GPS, she made her way ever deeper into the low rolling hills. She had brought a few things with her, fully expecting to spend the night, and now she was glad she did. For she didn’t relish the idea of driving back home through these remote hills alone at night.

Now the Spider had slowed and it was nosing cautiously forward, the driver searching for a small, unmarked turn that would lead to the only access road to his place. The winding gravel path took a long curve through a stand of trees and there, defiantly floodlit against the encroaching darkness, stood a magnificent home of stained wood and glass that reminded Crissy of an exclusive mountain resort. It had been built as a palatial retreat for a weary film executive, and had changed hands several times before Sky found it. He enjoyed the privacy and the sense of freedom the place gave him, and soon divided his time between his impressive new home and the luxury apartment he kept in the city. He jokingly referred to it as his “cabin” although the term seemed ludicrous when applied to the large, obviously expensive, complex of redwood and cedar and tinted glass, tucked away behind wrought iron gates, deep in the gentle hills.

***

Crissy had kicked off her heels as she sat across from him in a rounded chair with a low padded back, taking in the leather and chrome of the large starkly modern room with its sparse, but expensive, furnishings. Leaning back, she crossed her legs, and waited, sipping her drink, tense and alert with the sense of rising sexual anticipation.

Sprawled back as she was, she had let her dress had ride up, exposing several inches of choice nyloned thigh. She saw his eyes drawn to the displaced hemline, coming to rest there, dwelling on her knees, smiling as he let himself admire those attractive legs. She made