Copulation explosion, p.1
Copulation Explosion, page 1
part #14 of Lady From L.U.S.T. Series
Lady from L.U.S.T.
Eve goes ape trying to catch a man the scientists made into a monkey!
COPULATION
EXPLOSION
by Gardner Francis Fox
Written as Rod Gray
Originally printed in 1970
Digitally transcribed by Kurt Brugel
2021 for the Gardner Francis Fox Library LLC
Cover Illustration by Kurt Brugel 2021
Copyright © 2021 by The Gardner Francis Fox Library LLC.
All inquires please contact gardnerffox@gmail.com
Gardner Francis Fox (1911 to 1986) was a wordsmith. He originally was schooled as a lawyer. Rerouted by the depression, he joined the comic book industry in 1937. Writing and creating for the soon to be DC comics. Mr. Fox set out to create such iconic characters as the Flash and Hawkman. He is also known for inventing Batman‘s utility belt and the multi-verse concept.
At the same time, he was writing for comic books, he also contributed heavily to the paperback novel industry. Writing in all of the genres; westerns, historical romance, sword and sorcery, intergalactic adventures, even vintage sleaze.
The Gardner Francis Fox library is proud to be digitally transferring over 150 of Mr. Fox’s paperback novels back into print.
7.5x7.5 softcover paperback book with 165 black & white pages.
This is the book that collects Kurt Brugel's first half of the scratchboard book cover illustrations he created for the new editions of Mr. Fox's stories.
I chose scratchboard as my medium for its graphic punch. The book cover is responsible for giving the reader an initial lead-in for what the story is about. Having all of the book covers based on the same motif will also unify the library as a whole. There is enough of a challenge with doing 156 of anything in art, but to have to illustrate the contents of the book using a “pretty face”, well then we have something special in-store. Purchase from- - -
www.gardnerfrancisfoxlibrary.com/art
Table of Contents:
FOREWARD
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELEVE
FOREWORD
He was born in absolute darkness.
His senses told him that he lay on a table in a room with metal walls. His eyes were closed, so he did not understand how it was he knew this fact. Thought came into his mind. There was a name he went by, but he could not remember it. He had undergone a strange experience; he had almost died.
His eyes opened. He was still in darkness, but he was not blind. His eyes—someone had done something to his eyes as well as to the rest of his body—saw strange colors in the darkness, a deep blue where the metal was, and another color for the glass prism overhead.
He swung to a sitting position on the table, trying to remember what had happened to him. He could not. It was as if the experience had dulled the memory sectors of his brain. He slid to the metal floor, standing erect. He drew several deep breaths into his lungs and felt the life stirring through his body.
His was not human life, though he was a human being.
He was—something else. Un-human? Yes, Un-human.
The darkness pressed in on his eyes with its eerie colors. The colors he seemed vaguely to understand, the reason why metal should look like dark blue, the way glass appeared as a clear color for which he had no name. He swayed slightly, putting a hand to his head.
Under his fingertips he felt hair, a lot of hair. His hand moved across his face, finding that it was clean shaven. It was rimmed with stiff hairs, like the features of a golden langur surrounded by a bristly hide with only its face hairless. His ears were different, too. Longer and more pointed, they were like those of a fox, jutting slightly upward and outward from his skull. His ears were very sensitive. They were antennae catching sounds that were inaudible to all other hearing organs on this planet. His hand went across his chest. More hair, shaggy hair, as if he were a Neanderthal Man. He made a whimpering sound deep in his throat.
There it was again, the voice!
Inside his head, not speaking to him. No, the voice was not quite a voice, there was no sound. All he was hearing was a thought. The thought came to him only at intervals, as if it were not being thought all the time.
Not far, now. Not far at all!
The thought went away.
He lurched forward toward the metal wall, his hands outstretched. His palms touched the cool metal, his fingertips slid back and forth. Along this metal wall, there was a way out of this room. He did not know how he knew this, he just knew it.
After ten minutes he found the door.
It was locked.
He who was un-human felt anger surging through his hairy body. With both hands he gripped the protruding thing that an inner knowledge told him was a knob. Angrily he wrenched on it, tugging and pulling. He made low growls in his throat as he yanked.
There were great muscles rolling beneath his hairy hide. Massive muscles, muscles no human being should have, unless...
Unless, what? He knew! Deep inside he knew the answer why he was here, hairy and strong. There was a reason, but he could not put his finger to it. It was like a forgotten dream, in a sub-conscious part of him, swimming deep but never coming to the surface.
kraaaak
He held the knob in his hand. It had broken off. Numbly he stared at it. Then he looked at the blackness where the metal door should be.
He growled low in his throat. With the flat of his hand he hit the door. And the door remained firm. The Un-human thought. He moved to the table. He shoved the table before him at a run. His muscles tightened seconds before the table hit the door. There was a deafening crash.
The door buckled outward.
Light came into the metal room, blinding the thing that had been a man. His forearm lifted across his eyes. He waited until his eyes became accustomed to the light. Then he walked out into the corridor.
A being in a uniform was staring at him, horror etched on his face. The Un-human walked toward the guard, putting out a hand—noticing in the overhead light that his forearm and the back of his hand was covered with thick golden hairs—as if to tell the hairless man to wait, that he wanted to speak to him.
He tried to talk, but he could make only a dull croak in his throat. The guard shouted, turned his back and ran.
He went after the guard so fast that he was beyond the man in three strides, and then he was crashing into the far wall. He bounced off the wall and fell to the floor. He was surprised that he had run so fast. He should not have been able to move at such speed. It was as if—as if...
His tufted brows met in a frown.
There it was again, that sense of knowing, yet not knowing. He turned his head. The guard lay on the floor, unconscious.
The Un-human got to his feet and walked along a corridor until he reached a staircase. He stopped to study the treads. He did not remember ever having seen anything like stairs before. Yet he put a foot on the first step and mounted the others until he was standing before a glass door.
The glass made a shimmering, unknown color. His hand touched the glass, ran over and around that color. His hand balled into a fist. With his fist he shattered the glass and stepped through it into another corridor.
In the distance there was a metallic ringing.
He paid no attention to the alarm gong. He just kept on walking, hunting for a path out of this place which had been his prison and could hold him no longer.
He heard voices, the sound of drumming feet. Instinct told him he must not be put back in that dark room, that there was a need for him outside. Somewhere beyond this prison was a—something that demanded his presence.
Guards came running for him, shouting and waving their arms. He could read the horror in their faces as they looked at him.
He ran forward, lowering his head.
The Un-human hit the three guards like a runaway express train. They flew in three different directions while he raced on, never slackening his pace. He had no reason to look back, he knew the beings were unharmed, except for a few bruises. He must get out, and they would have stopped him.
He came to other stairs and went up.
Ahead of him was a large room filled with objects he did not understand. Beyond the room was another pair of glass doors. The room was well lighted. Beyond the glass doors there was more light, and on the other side of those flood-lamps there was another kind of darkness.
He ran across the room.
A girl in a uniform resembling that of the guards was rounding a corner when she caught a glimpse of his speeding body. She screamed, mouth wide open, tongue quivering between her glistening white teeth.
He hit the glass doors and went through them in a shower of splintering shards. The broken glass did not cut him, he was through those pieces and racing for the cool blackness beyond the floodlights before they began to fall.
The girl was lying in a huddled heap at the edge of the building lobby, having fainted. There was no one to see him as he sped over a blacktop parking lot to disappear into the shadows beyond the trees that rimmed the building compound.
The Un-human ran and ran.
He was frightened. There was something wrong. He should not be fleeing like a wild animal this way. He ought to turn back and let those beings in uniforms tell him what to do.
The trouble was he could not understand them, and they could not understand him. Those sounds they made were familiar, he himself should be able to make sounds like that, but he could not. He felt he might be incomplete, but there was no time for completeness. No time! No time!
He slowed after a while.
He was loping along a flat stretch of ground. Over head, there was a ball in the sky that gave down radiance by which his eyes could see. There was a name for that object, but he could not recall it.
The Un-human came to a stop.
There was a sound, there was a smell. He turned aside off the flat ground and began to climb in among the piled rocks. He climbed swiftly, easily, as if he were in his element in the darkness on this side of the mountain. In minutes he was on a higher slope, pursuing the tantalizing smell.
When he saw the brook he sniffed again. Yes, that pale stuff was the smell he followed. It would be good, that pale stuff running along over those white bottom stones. He needed it.
He lay down on his belly and leaned his face out over the little brook. In the moonlight he caught a glimpse of his face before he lowered his lips to the water and lapped.
The water tasted good.
CHAPTER ONE
I was suspicious from the very beginning.
David Anderjanian had sent me a dozen American Beauty roses and a little note asking me for a dinner date at a posh supper club on upper Fifth Avenue. He had also delivered a bottle of champagne to my apartment, to be placed on ice for his arrival. I was to wear an evening gown; he would be wearing a tuxedo.
This was not at all like David Anderjanian. In fact, it was such contrary conduct that I came damn near calling him up and telling him to go to hell. In my long experience with my case officer—I am a secret agent for the League of Underground Spies and Terrorists, or L.U.S.T.— I have found him to be at his sweetest just before clobbering me with the dirtiest job around.
To rate a con job this good, he must have something slimy up his sleeve to give me before the night was over. I was right in a way—in my wildest imaginings I couldn't have guessed what that job was going to be.
My name is Eve Drum. I consider myself a slick chick, a mod bod, a hep cat. My nickname in L.U.S.T. is Oh Oh Sex, and many's the time I've proved my right to it. At that moment I was between cases, and while I keep my ear pretty much to the ground, I had no inkling of what was waiting for poor little me.
However, I decided to be brave about it.
I got all nice and naked in my bath, studying myself from all angles in the door length mirror. My neat breasts were full and firmly packed, they stood out like milky melons tipped with overripe strawberries. I jiggled them a little with my hands, thinking how I would torment David this way before the night was out. I owed him. Even before I knew why it was I was going to get even with him, I was planning how.
My hips are gently curved. They swing when I walk in that style called faire des effets de cul by the French which means that my behind adds its little jiggle to the rest of me. I would slip on cut-out panties over these hips. You know the kind, with the essential part of them left out, the better to bring out the true gold of my female fluff. Maybe a garter-belt. No, definitely a garter-belt, because I had some triple sheer gun-metal nylons that would make dear David drool when I crossed my gams so he could see my pale thighs and the black garters that held them up.
I am not a tease!
I just wanted to make sure my case-officer-plus-boy friend suffered somewhat for what he was going to do to me. My feminine intuition is rarely wrong. Anderjanian was going to slap me silly with an assignment that would add years to my life. I wanted him to remember me as I was before I began aging.
My hand turned the shower waters on. I stepped inside the glass walls and slid a bar of soap all over the girl goodies. I would tint myself with perfume after the bath, do up my eyelids green with maybe a sprinkle of sequins across them as well, and don my extra-long fake eyelashes, add a few brush strokes of liquid lip stick and somebody powder for what little of me would not be hidden by my dress, and I would be ready.
Oh, David! Poor David! What I have in store for you!
I dawdled over my dressing until the doorbell rang. I ran out of my satin and toile bedroom across the deep pile carpeting of my living room wearing the divided panties, garter-belt with gun-metal nylons and my evening slippers. Like that, I opened the door.
David was standing there grinning at me. His grin got wider and his eyes round as he took me in. Oh, yeah. My heart sank when I saw the five pound box of candy in his hand. Now I knew I was in for trouble.
"Come in, come in,” I caroled gaily.
He came in as I shut the door. I crowded my bod up against his, flinging my bare arms about his neck and letting my nipples scratch themselves on his jacket. I plastered my open mouth on his lips.
Just as his arms were about to close on me, I slid back and away from him. “Gotta finish dressing, darling!"
"Eve, wait!”
"Be right back, angel."
I was topless and practically bottomless as well in those panties. I turned and fled back toward my bed room, knowing damn well that he was ogling my shaking buttocks. Good! I wanted him in a state before we got going. It would prolong his amoral agony for him to sit through a meal with my image dancing around in his head.
My original see-through St. Laurent was laid out on the bed, all ready for me to scoop it up and slither it over my curves. I bent over to do just that, when I felt David right behind me. His hands went to my hips and then his loins pressed into my behind.
My plan was working perfectly. David was as erotically aroused as I'd ever known him to be. I nudged him with my back cheeks and heard him moan.
"Damn you, Eve!"
"Why, darling! What seems to be the trouble?”
“You're the trouble. You know we have reservations for eight-thirty."
"And it's only quarter to. We've plenty of time.”
“That isn't what I meant.”
I giggled, moving my hips. “Never before the fish, m'sieu. Besides, I'm hungry. We don't have time even for a quickie, love."
"I'm more than hungry. I'm starving—for you."
That's the way I like my boyfriend. Utterly anxious. I reached behind me and gave him a gentle squeeze. "Well! You really are on a starvation diet, aren't you? How did that happen?”
"I've been busy,” he growled.
I wriggled away from him and into my chiffon see through with the ostrich fluff about my hips. It was an eye-popper. This was the first time I'd worn it, and David swallowed three times, slowly, as his eyes went over me inside it.
“Take it off," he groaned. “David,” I squealed. “Control yourself!"
"I mean," he began over again, then closed his eyes. "Oh, never mind. I should have known, this being your last night and all."
The dog! Now it was his turn to tease.
“What last night? What are you talking about?”
"Sorry, honey. It just slipped out.”
"Like hell it did. You tell me what's in that animal brain of yours, David Anderjanian, or I'll let something else slip out.” My eyes went to his buffing stick that was making itself known in no uncertain way.
“Later," he said hopefully.
I eyed him, he eyed me. We have worked and fought and loved together too long not to know one another almost perfectly. I smiled faintly and arched my neatly trimmed eyebrows.
“Truce?" I whispered.
"Yeah," he growled, and reached for my mink cape.
We went out of my posh apartment and into the elevator. The doorman had a cab waiting for us. I frowned, despite the lines it made in my forehead. My case officer is rarely so solicitous of me. Brotherrrrr, I thought wryly, he really has a toughie for me.
There was a table under muted lighting close to the dance floor of the supper club, with a reserved card on it. A waiter bowed us to the spotless cloth on which was set a small bowl of flowers. David held my chair and I slid into it.
