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The Sex Life of the Gods

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Title: The Sex Life of the Gods

Author: M. E. Knerr

 
Release date: July 20, 2012 [eBook #40284]
 Most recently updated: October 23, 2024

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/40284

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SEX LIFE OF THE GODS ***

 Transcriber's note: Extensive research did not uncover any evidence
 that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.

[Front cover: Janet was more than a beautiful woman. She was white heat
and surging womanhood all dolled up in a body like that of a French
movie star. She was as wanton as a Polynesian dancer and as demanding as
a nympho.]

[Cover flap: Beth Danson was about twenty-five and, besides her deep
auburn-brown hair and lovely face, she boasted an equally attractive
body. He found himself captivated by the warm thrust of her breasts
beneath the silk blouse. The clear milk of her flesh, at the "V" of her
throat excited him in a strange way. When he thought of her as his wife,
it was frightening. It was as though someone had tossed him a woman and
expected him to just fall into the routine of marriage. It wouldn't be
hard to come to love this woman, but it would take awhile. Hell, he
didn't know her. She was a complete stranger who had suddenly told him
they were married. There was nothing familiar about her; even the
fingers that were softly working over his face were alien.]

 "_I think we're property..._"
 --_Charles Fort_

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. Her hair was as gold as the noon sun
and her eyes, lifting slightly at the outer curves, 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. 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 for a passionate kiss.

 SEX LIFE OF THE GODS

 by MICHAEL KNERR

 AN UPTOWN BOOK

 AN ORIGINAL NOVEL

 UPTOWN BOOKS
 are published at
 1213 North Highland Avenue
 Los Angeles 38, California

 Copyright 1962 by Uptown Publications

 All Rights Reserved

All persons and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any
resemblance to persons living or dead, or actual events is purely
coincidental.

FOREWORD

He left the mother ship and headed for Terra; he smiled at the
instrument panel and watched the operation of the big scout ship as it
rocketed toward the light ribbon of atmosphere that enveloped the
planet. It was a joke, in a way. In a manner of speaking, he was the
first Terran to fly an alien space ship, but he wasn't thinking of that.
He was thinking of the woman, Elizabeth Danson of Everett, Pennsylvania.

She was waiting.

And he could see the warmth of her body, sheathed in the web-like gown
that seemed spun over her turgid breasts and curved hips by an army of
artistic spiders. It would not be a hard thing to love a woman like
that.

His fingers curled about the controls, his feet working the rudder
pedals of the screaming ship as he headed for the strange darkness of
the Atlantic Ocean. The space ship was operating well and the Earth
lifted her curved bosom to meet his rush.

Trouble came early. The danger lights flickered in his eyes and the fear
welled up within him like a flood. Fifteen hundred miles an hour and the
scout ship was out of control! The behavior of the craft was erratic, as
though a giant hand was slapping the silver belly as he plummeted toward
the ball of the earth.

Desperately he tried to reduce the speed of the hurtling ship, his
fingers working the buttons and levers in a frenzy of determination. The
craft refused to respond. She whipped into a cloud bank, headed for the
sea, lifted suddenly and whirled back toward space.

In an agony of fear he realized that he no longer was the master of the
space ship - he was a prisoner in a violent, uncontrollable meteor that
would finally slam him into infinity against the very earth that was to
be home...

 * * * * *

In the early hours of morning, Jean Renault of Nova Scotia fingered the
wheel of his fifty foot boat through the grey ground swells of the Grand
Banks, almost to the place where he would cast his nets into the water.
The overcast sky was refusing to emit the sunlight and a light mist hung
over the sea like a disjointed ghost. When Jean heard the whirring roar
of the ship, it was too late. The silver streak whipped over his fishing
boat with all the furies of the gods, and nearly tore his steadying sail
away. Muttering a string of French curses, Jean picked up his radio
telephone and reported in violent tones the presence of the jet to the
Coast Guard.

 * * * * *

In the half-light of early dawn, the United States and Canada whirled
with reports upon the strange craft. The CQ of the National Defense
system began systematically pinpointing the track of the strange craft
as it raked across the adumbral sky.

Then, it was gone!

The rocketing ship had appeared over one observation station near Lake
Ontario. It had been spotted by a CD worker near Auburn, N.Y., then it
was gone. The last observation of the craft showed it flying an erratic
track toward the mountain country of Pennsylvania.

At CQ operations office, in Washington D.C., Lt. Colonel Martin Griswold
tossed the last report on his desk and pinched his lower lip
thoughtfully. Colonel Delbert, sitting across from him, looked serious.

"It's out of control," he mused. "And it isn't one of ours. Russian?"

"Might be." He looked at the rugged country along the Pennsylvania, New
York map for a moment, then he picked up the phone on his desk. "This is
Colonel Griswold. Get me the Pentagon."

At 0930 a special plane left Washington, bound for the town in northern
Pennsylvania that had been chosen as a base of operations. On board the
plane were the Secret Service men who were to track down the crashed
ship.

They were several hou

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