The Death Strain by Nick Carter

her subconscious that'll come out when she's asleep."
    "Roger," I said, and Hawk clicked off. I found myself smiling. After all, this was certainly nothing to entrust to just anyone. I went to the captain, told him that Rita Kenmore and I were to be disturbed only if Hawk radioed. We had vital plans to go over, I said. I think the captain may even have believed me. The boys in crew's quarters wouldn't have, showing the disadvantages of too much education.
    I hurried to the stateroom, knocked and Rita opened the door. Her smile, the first real one I'd ever seen from her, lighted up the room.
    "Oh, Nick, please come in," she said. She was wearing a deep red sweater and a cream skirt. She saw my eyes flick over the soft roundness of her breasts. "Thanks to the nursing staff aboard," she said, gesturing at her clothes.
    "Do you talk in your sleep?" I grinned at her. "Because I'm supposed to find out."
    "I don't know, I do know you've little chance of finding out. I'm exhausted but I'm too keyed-up to sleep."
    "Maybe I can relax you," I said. Her eyes were dark and serious.
    I moved close to her and my lips pressed on hers, opening her mouth and I found her tongue with mine. She quivered and clung to me, welcoming me with an eagerness that permeated every movement of her body. I thrust my hand up beneath the sweater and found that the nurses hadn't given her a bra. My hand closed around soft firmness and she gasped. I grasped the sweater and pulled it over her head. She was against me instantly, clinging, and I pressed her back upon the bed. Her breasts pointed up at me and I kissed them, tenderly first, then gently nibbling at each protruding tip. Her head strained backwards and she gasped again and again, her hands clutching at my back. Slowly, the nipples began to rise and harden. I pulled gently on them with my lips and Rita half-screamed. I was grateful for the soundproof walls of fleet ships.
    "O-o-oooh!" she cried out and arched her back, thrusting her breasts upward deeper into my mouth. When I let them go she fell back on the bed. My lips moved down across her body, and she moaned passionately as I neared the place of all places.
    Her lovely legs moved up and apart invitingly. I bore down upon her, into her moistness, feeling the welcome warmth of her closing around me, and now her body moved with a will of its own, apart from the moaning protestations of her lips. I knew she was protesting only the ecstasy that was beyond her reach at the moment. But she was trying for it with every thrusting muscle, with the warm moistness that flowed from her, with the wanting that wracked her magnificent body.
    And then, as she reached passion's summit, she flung her legs out straight and her head reached up and backwards. Her hands were against my chest, pushing me from her while her legs clasped tighter around me, and then she was clinging to me, moving convulsively, a creature of pure passion. Finally she fell back, drained of everything but the shallow harshness of her breath. I lay beside her, my head cradled against her breast, lips touching her nipples.
    In a while I felt her hands stroking my head. She snuggled against me, her soft breasts sweet cushions against my chest. "You know, I surprise myself," she said. "I never would have guessed that I could, well, function, in the tense atmosphere we're under. I think it must be you."
    She rose on one elbow and traced imaginary little lines on my chest. "Are you sexually stimulated by stress?" she asked.
    "Research or personal curiosity?" I grinned at her.
    She chuckled softly. "A little of both, I guess."
    "Frankly, it doesn't make any difference," I told her honestly. "Stress, no stress, I keep a fire going."
    A few minutes later she was fast asleep against my chest, her breath soft and even.
    I put my head back and dozed off myself. I got in somewhat more than an hour and a half when I heard the polite but firm knock on the door. Moving out from under Rita, who only gave a