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Table of contents
PREFACE
CHAPTER-1-2
CHAPTER-3
CHAPTER-4-5-6-7
CHAPTER-8-9
CHAPTER-10-11
CHAPTER-12-13-14-15
CHAPTER-16-17
CHAPTER-18-19
CHAPTER-20-21-22
CHAPTER-23-24-25
CHAPTER-26-27-28
CHAPTER-29-30
CHAPTER-31.1
CHAPTER-31.2
CHAPTER-31.3
CHAPTER-32
CHAPTER-33
CHAPTER-34-35-36-37-38
CHAPTER-39-40-41-42
CHAPTER-43-44-45
CHAPTER-46-47
CHAPTER-48
CHAPTER-49-50
CHAPTER-51
CHAPTER-52-53
The Sex Life of the Gods. Michael Knerr. CHAPTER-1-2
CHAPTER-3
CHAPTER-4
CHAPTER-5-6
CHAPTER-7-8
CHAPTER-9-10
CHAPTER-11-12
CHAPTER-13-14
CHAPTER-15-16
CHAPTER-17-18

CHAPTER THREE 

 

 

The dream was of a woman. 

 

He was lying on a strangely made bed, the warm breezes of evening 

rolling in off the crashing sea and the woman stood in the ornate 

doorway that entered the bedroom. About him lay all manner of bright 

silks and strange colored cloths. The woman smiled and his eyes caressed 

her. 

 

Her hair was as gold as the noon sun and her eyes, lifting slightly at 

the outer corners, were as blue as the sea. Her lips petaled back over 

the white strength of her teeth and her fingers did strange things to 

make the flimsy robe drop from the rounded softness of her shoulders. He 

watched her walk, upon curvaceous legs, to the edge of the bed. For just 

a second, she smiled down at him. 

 

"Father is sleeping like a baby," she whispered. 

 

He felt himself talk: "Good." Then his fingers curled about the curve of 

her thigh. His fingers tightened and the crimson smile broadened; he 

pulled and felt her resist him with maidenly demureness, but in the end 

she came to him. 

 

He felt the yielding firmness of her body pressing down into his on the 

bed and his arms furled about the softness that she offered. The warm 

cones of her breasts worked on the hardness of his chest and his mouth 

fused against hers in a passionate kiss. 

 

"Lors, Lors, darling. You've been gone so long." Her voice was a kitten 

purr in his ear, warm and gentle. 

 

"I'm back, Jela," he smiled, his hands caressing the lithe length of her 

body, folding her against him tightly. 

 

She moved away from him, rolling, tugging at him to respond, but he 

needed no encouragement. His body rolled with her, his arms pinning her 

to him tightly so that she could move nothing ... nothing but her legs, 

but then there was little need to move anything else... 

 

* * * * * 

 

The dream faded and he cursed, and tried to get back to sleep and the 

beautiful woman who awaited him. Sleep came, but the dream was gone. 

 

Andy, shaking his shoulder, woke him about sundown and Nick swung his 

legs off the cot and stood up. Still sleepy, he fingered the heavy 

stubble on his face and looked at the old man. 

 

"Y'kin use my razor t'chop off that beard, son," he said. "C'mon, get 

around now. Got soup and sandwiches ready an' some famous Hocum coffee." 

 

Nick straightened his wrinkled clothing, shaking the last remnants of 

weary fog from his brain. Andy went on talking to him and said something 

that woke Nick Danson up completely. 

 

"Yer buddies was here, couple o' hours ago, son." 

 

"What?" It was almost impossible to keep the surprise out of his face 

and voice. Andy didn't seem to notice anything wrong. 

 

"Th' fellers y'got drunk with. Wanted t'know if I'd seen any strangers 

on th' road. I said I hadn't, 'cause I figgered they might want t'slap 


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