Dressed to Impress, page 5
Barbara burst into tears, clinging to Dan. After a while she spoke, her voice a tremulous whisper. ‘Do you think he’ll … come back?’
‘Of course not,’ Dan said, wrapping her in his arms. But there was something uncertain in his voice as he stared over her shoulder at the sheriff. ‘Well? Did you kill it, Sheriff?’
The burly man moved to the edge of the lake and kicked a pebble into the water, where it made a tiny splash. ‘Don’t know, son,’ he said gruffly. ‘But they say that lake is bottomless. Alive or dead, we’ll never find it.’
Barbara shifted her haunted gaze from the sheriff to the fading ripples on the surface of the lake. They seemed to go on for ever.
A dramatic music cue followed and then the words THE END appeared over the monochrome image, followed a beat later by a wavering question mark. The cast list came next and Betty smiled at the dual credit of ‘Steve Winter as Dr George Bentley and THE CREATURE’.
The darkened picture house was filled with the noise of chattering and laughing as the patrons – most of them couples – got up to leave. But Betty always stayed until the lights came up. The spell wouldn’t be broken until the darkness was.
She’d seen It Came From Black Lake six times and already she wanted to see it again.
The first time had been on a double blind date with Judy and two brothers that a friend of Judy’s had set them up with. They went to the drive-in in the boys’ Mustang convertible and Betty had ‘ruined’ the evening by not wanting to do what most teenagers did at the drive-in. Judy hadn’t spoken to her since. But she couldn’t help it; she only had eyes for Steve Winter. As soon as he’d appeared on the screen, a spell was cast and the boy beside her might as well have been the Invisible Man.
After that Betty went to the Palms Theatre to see it again, this time by herself. She’d watched, entranced, as the handsome Dr Bentley paddled his canoe along the shores of Black Lake. Alligators watched him pass but they left him alone as he peeled off his sweat-soaked shirt and waded into the murky water to find samples. He scooped up the gooey atomic sludge from the surface of the water and took it back to his lab, where the fateful explosion soon took place, transforming him into the Creature.
Betty had thought he was good-looking as the scientist but as the Creature he was positively dreamy. The costume wasn’t the chunky rubber monster suit worn by so many other actors in similar films. Steve Winter’s costume clung to his well-defined muscles like glossy paint, enhancing his lean physique.
His face wasn’t hidden behind a goggle-eyed mask either. No, the makeup artist had kept the effect minimal there, with only fins and scales to show he had become a monster. An oddly appealing one.
Betty had stayed and sat straight through the second showing, then the third. When she’d finally left that day the manager had teased her good-naturedly about her fascination. He knew a teenager in love when he saw one, he’d said, tipping her a wink.
Betty had lowered her head, blushing furiously as she hurried out into the humid Florida evening. She’d breathed in the moist air, closing her eyes as she imagined how it would feel to be captured by the Creature, carried in his strong arms to his lair. What would he do to her if she struggled? What if she tried to escape and he caught her? Would he tie her up, lash her to the jagged rocks with coils of rope? Would he whip her to teach her not to resist?
Then a passing car had beeped its horn, startling her out of her reverie before the fantasy could pick up steam. Embarrassed, Betty had hurried home. There she could continue her lustful train of thought in her own room, tucked up in bed where no one could see her. Well, no one but Steve Winter, who gazed at her from the pictures she’d clipped from Castle of Frankenstein magazine and tacked up on her wall.
Steve in a colour still, arms crossed, smile radiant, marine-blue eyes sparkling. Steve as Dr Bentley, frowning over the atomic particles he was looking at through his microscope. Steve as the Creature, shortly after the explosion, confronting his new self in the mirror. And, best of all, Steve as the Creature, carrying the girl in his arms towards the lake.
Of course the film – and the Creature – bore a close resemblance to another film with a similar title from a few years earlier. Betty had seen it once on television and enjoyed it, but that creature’s blank fishy stare hadn’t affected her the way Steve Winter’s had. The Black Lake story was completely different and Betty loved the fact that it had been filmed in the Everglades, practically her own backyard. Oh, if only she’d known then! She could have gone down and watched the shooting, maybe even met Steve and got his autograph. Maybe even …
But her chance was coming. The revival showing at the Palms was partly to drum up interest in the sequel, The Return of the Creature From Black Lake, which the theatre manager had told her would soon be filming down in the Glades. Of course the sheriff’s bullets hadn’t killed him! He’d simply returned to his underwater lair to heal. Soon he would be back, driven by both passion and vengeance. Perhaps this time in search of a mate.
Betty blew Steve a kiss from her bed before turning out the light. Then her hand strayed down beneath the covers and up underneath her nightie. In her mind she was a feisty lady reporter hot on the trail of the missing scientist and determined to solve the mystery. Her search led her deep into the swamp, where one careless misstep sent her tumbling into the water of the infamous Black Lake. Where the Creature was watching, waiting. He rose up before her, water streaming over his sleek torso as he gathered her in his arms and dived with her through the inky depths. Betty held her breath until they reached the entrance to the cave and emerged into the air once more. The Creature carried her to the nest he’d made for her, sat her down and watched her intently.
She didn’t resist as he stripped her naked, slitting open her wet blouse and skirt with sharp claws. She trembled as he loomed over her, examining his property, exploring every inch of her soft human skin with his webbed fingers. He gently coaxed her legs apart and stroked her sex with that intoxicating mix of curiosity, tenderness and desire, his eyes keenly observing her responses. For although the disaster in his laboratory had transformed him physically, he was still a scientist beneath the scaly skin. And now she could be his experiment.
She peered into his eyes, seduced by their piercing gaze. Tentatively she reached up to stroke his sinewy chest. The cave glowed with phosphorous and she trailed her fingers over the sleek, gleaming muscles of his abdomen and down to his thighs, down to where his hard cock waited to fill her.
As always, Betty came before the fantasy got too intimate. What turned her on most of all was being his captive, his subject, his plaything. She loved the thought of being teased and inspected, restrained and admonished for any escape attempts. Sometimes in her mind he pinned her down on the damp cave floor, pressing his hardness against her while she struggled feebly beneath him. And sometimes he took her back to his laboratory, where he strapped her to a table and performed unspeakable experiments on her helpless naked body.
She shuddered with embarrassed pleasure as she curled into a ball, her sex throbbing from its climax. She was still a virgin and she didn’t really know what actual sex would be like or how a man’s cock would feel inside her. But she wanted to know, very badly. And she wanted Steve Winter to be the man to show her.
As she drifted off to sleep she was sure she could hear the voice of the Creature, calling to her from out in the Glades.
‘You can stand over there, doll. Just keep your mouth shut and don’t get in the way.’
The portly man wasn’t the director. He was presumably someone in charge of keeping visitors to the set under control. But there was only Betty. She had been expecting an army of screaming teenage girls corralled behind a barrier, fans younger or more appealing than she was who would draw Steve’s eye immediately. It was a shock to see how small the location set actually was.
There were only a few people around. The one with the megaphone who was shouting at the crew must be the director. Two men were setting up heavy camera equipment while a woman ferried cups of coffee back and forth from a van. Two trailers were parked nearby, just off the road, and Betty felt her heart give a little tumble as she realised that Steve must be inside one of them.
‘Where are all the actors?’ she asked, forcing herself to sound casual.
‘It’s just the Creature this morning,’ the man replied. ‘Swimming around, diving in, climbing out. Home sweet home, eh?’ He nodded towards the swamp they had chosen for Black Lake. Swollen cypress trees rose from the water, hung with long tresses of Spanish moss. ‘Don’t know how he does it. You wouldn’t get me in that water for anything, not with all them gators out there!’
‘They’re probably more afraid of you than you are of them,’ Betty said, although she did admire Steve’s fearlessness. She didn’t know anyone who’d be willing to put on a wetsuit and go splashing around in the Glades, least of all herself.
‘Well, I’m not taking any chances,’ the man said, patting his back pocket where presumably he had a gun. ‘You give a yell if you spot any, OK?’
She smiled and assured him she would, although she had no intention of watching for alligators once Steve Winter was on set. And she didn’t have to wait long. Soon the door of one of the trailers opened and there he was: the Creature.
Betty’s breath caught in her throat. He moved with a sinuous grace and he was even taller in person than he appeared onscreen, towering over everyone he passed on his way to the swamp. When he reached Betty he stopped for a moment and looked her up and down, just as the Creature might size up a female victim. Warmth flooded Betty’s face and all her well-rehearsed greetings died on her tongue as she found herself staring mutely at him.
He looked like a statue of a Greek god dipped in blue-black ink, every taut muscle sculpted and defined by the glossy costume that clung to him like a second skin. Hours seemed to pass as Betty drank in the sight of him, her eyes roaming over every inch of his beautiful body. At last her gaze travelled back up to his face and she opened her mouth only to find she couldn’t speak even a single word.
Steve’s eyes gleamed with obvious amusement and she blushed and lowered her gaze. Then he reached out one webbed hand to touch her hair. Betty gasped, both from shock and excitement, and she heard Steve chuckle softly behind the makeup. Her heart pounded and her hand fluttered at her breast. Steve’s eyes were immediately drawn there and she felt her nipples stiffen beneath her the lightweight material of her summer dress. Her sex pulsed in response and when Steve began to smile she wondered if he had the same keen senses as the infamous Creature. Could he smell her arousal?
Then he moved past her and she watched him as though in a trance. She staggered back against a tree for balance as the spell slowly wore off and she began to curse herself for her starstruck idiocy. Oh, but he had touched her! Her scalp tingled from the contact and the sensation sent hot pulses of desire through her body. All her naughty fantasies flashed through her mind and she shook her head to clear it.
But as soon as she looked over at the swamp and saw the Creature striding into the water she knew it was hopeless. She could feel the wetness in her panties, the almost painful stiffness of her nipples as they strained against the confines of her dress. Every inch of her was hungry for Steve, for his piercing eyes and powerful hands.
The director shouted ‘Action!’ and Steve dived down beneath the surface of the water. He was lost for a few seconds and then he re-emerged slowly, rising up from the black mirror of the lake. Betty shuddered with excitement as she watched him swim to the shore and pull himself out onto the rocks. His slick costume shone in the light and Betty imagined stroking the outline of each silky muscle.
‘Cut!’
The moment was broken by the director’s annoyed shout and then there was some discussion with one of the cameramen. The male voices grew louder and angrier and in no time an argument had broken out. There was apparently something wrong with some piece of equipment. Betty didn’t care what the problem was; she was watching Steve. He leaned against the rocks, his arms crossed in a very un-Creature-like posture, looking bored. And then he looked at her.
Their eyes met and, even though he was some distance away, she was sure she saw him smile.
‘Hey, listen, guys,’ he said, his deep resonant voice immediately silencing the others, ‘I’m gonna take five while you fix the equipment, OK? Give me a shout when you’re ready for me.’
And without even waiting for a response he headed back towards his trailer, back towards Betty.
Her legs suddenly didn’t feel strong enough to hold her up. Her heart pounded in her ears as the Creature made his purposeful way across the grass and then stopped in front of her. He paused for only a moment before sweeping her up in his arms and carrying her off to his trailer. He opened the door easily and kicked it shut again behind him.
Inside was a small living space with a shadowy corridor leading off to the left. Betty wrapped her arms around Steve’s neck as he carried her into the adjoining room and she began to tremble when she saw the bed. She looked up into Steve’s face, hardly daring to hope this was all really happening. But the smile she saw there confirmed that she wasn’t dreaming. The Creature deposited her gently on the bed and stood looking down at her.
‘Well now,’ he said, ‘what shall I do with you?’
Betty’s face burned, the deep flush spreading across her throat and chest and down through her body. Down to where she was tingling and growing very wet.
Fuck me, her mind said, giving at least a silent voice to the lewd thought she’d been having ever since she’d first set eyes on Steve Winter. Then, emboldened by his piercing gaze, she said it.
‘Fuck me.’
If he seemed startled by her frankness he didn’t show it. He hadn’t needed her to say it anyway; her panting arousal must have been obvious from the moment they’d met.
He undressed her, unhindered by his webbed fingers. As he deftly untied the straps of her dress and slid it down to expose her breasts, Betty closed her eyes and lay back. She kicked off her shoes and raised her bottom so he could slip her white cotton panties off. She could hardly believe it was happening.
Then he lowered his head to hers and kissed her. He smelled of aftershave and latex, a kinky combination that only excited her more. His lips kissed a trail down her throat, making her shudder. She arched her back, presenting herself to him.
He took her wrists and manoeuvred them over her head. She gripped the wooden slats of the bed, writhing on the coverlet. Steve opened a drawer in the nightstand and Betty whimpered as he removed a length of rope. She pressed her legs together as a jolt of excitement shot through her and she held perfectly still as he wound the rope around her wrists and tied her to the bed. He took a step back and looked down at her, restrained and begging for him with every shallow breath.
‘My, my,’ he said in a silky voice, ‘you are quite helpless now, aren’t you?’
Another wave of lust washed over her and Betty chewed her lip, straining against the ropes and lifting her hips like an offering. Her eyes roamed over his exquisite form, travelling down to the bulge at his crotch. It swelled against the rubber and she wondered where the fastenings in his costume were. But he seemed in no hurry to undress himself.
He knelt over her and placed his hands on either side of her face. She nuzzled against them like a pet. His gentleness belied the strength and power she knew he possessed, as though he really were the Creature, holding himself back from ravishing her. With excruciating deliberation he trailed his fingers down over her face and throat, then down the sides of her rib cage, teasingly avoiding the swell of her breasts.
Betty moaned softly as he stroked her flat belly, then teased her again by circling her sex without touching it. His hands traced her lines and curves, raising gooseflesh as he stimulated every inch of exposed skin. Every inch but the ones that craved his touch the most.
She was on the verge of demanding when at last he returned to her upper body. Her nipples stiffened painfully as he caressed her breasts and then she gasped as his fingers closed around them, squeezing. The latex felt cool and slightly clinical and she blushed furiously as she imagined herself as Dr George Bentley’s experimental subject. Restrained on a cold metal table, writhing with delirious pleasure as he probed and stroked and stimulated her, observing her responses.
He tweaked her nipples, pinching them tightly until she gave a little cry. It hurt but the pain only intensified her arousal. Her sex throbbed and she squeezed her legs together, wishing he would force them apart roughly and plunge himself inside her.
But he hadn’t finished playing with her.
He dipped his head and kissed her again, pressing his chest against hers. The chill of the rubber against her breasts made her nipples burn, a sensation somewhere between pleasure and pain and wholly erotic. His tongue teased hers, circling inside her mouth. Betty writhed beneath him, angling her pelvis up to the tantalising hardness he was keeping from her.
Finally she wrapped her legs around him, hooking her ankles together behind his back and urging his cock down, forcing it against her sex.
Steve broke the kiss and drew back a little, smiling down at her. Then he lowered his head to her breasts, kissing her nipples in turn. She cried out as his tongue flicked playfully over each hard little bud, sending bursts of desire through her entire body. Her sex throbbed painfully, desperate for his touch.
She heard the creak of the ropes against the wood as she strained in her bonds. His captive, his prisoner. He could do anything to her and he knew it.
At last he pulled away and her wet nipples burned at their exposure to the air. He smacked her thigh lightly and she obeyed the silent command, opening her legs for him. Steve took hold of her ankles and prised her legs wide apart, as wide as they could go.
