The heat of her hand made me groan. And before I knew it, they had me down on the tile floor, practically tearing my clothes off. Then they descended on me-a tangle of hot nude female bodies coming down on me from every angle-coming down over my face and onto my crotch-a tangle of hands reaching for my erect member, mouths fighting each other off for a taste of it, and hot wet furry holes seeking out all my fingers.
CHAPTER ONE - THE CAPER
How would you like it if you walked into a public restroom, suddenly had your arms pinned behind you, your trousers yanked down, and were then wonderfully sucked off by a beautiful, well-built, blonde? And, after that, you were sucked up hard again, then laid on the floor on your back while a gorgeous redhead got on top of you and fucked merrily away until you came again? Unbelievable? Not if you live in New York City today. And in fact, the odds are that that is exactly what might happen to you if you spend much time in Manhattan, even as a tourist.
My name is John Bartley. This incredible story first came to light about a year ago. As a reporter for a large daily newspaper, I was assigned to the Police Beat. One evening as I lounged about the local station house, shooting the shit with my friend Sgt. Holloway, of the Detective Squad, a man stumbled in, yelling and screaming that he had been raped. Naturally, such an accusation provoked a lot of laughter, and several of the officers joked that it should happen to them; they should be so lucky. But the outraged citizen wasn't amused, and considering how he looked, I really couldn't blame him. His name was Mr. Purdy, and he was about forty, balding, with the beginnings of the usual middle-aged spread prominently showing.
Both arms were inside his trousers, one in front and one in back. They had been tied at the wrists, and his trousers were then pulled up, zipped, and belted. As a result, he was forced to walk rather crab-like, adding to his discomfort. We had to take down his pants in order to free him. When we did, we found that almost his entire lower body was covered with clear imprints of female lips; indelibly inscribed with bright red lipstick. Whoever had put it there certainly meant for it to be seen.
After freeing Mr. Purdy's hands, calming him down enough so that he could talk without raising his voice, and refreshing our coffee cups, we listened to his story; with open-mouth awe.
Mr. Purdy had been in New York City on a convention trip. Leaving his hotel, he had strolled about seeing the sights, like any other tourist. Feeling the call of nature, he went into a public toilet facility in one of the large office buildings. Being unfamiliar with the city, he wasn't able to tell us which one for sure. Anyway, as he had closed the door, two pairs of hands had grabbed him, while a third expertly unzipped his pants, pulled his meat out, and then he saw that his attacker was a gorgeous blonde girl, no more than twenty or twenty-one. To his utter astonishment, the girl then fell to her knees, popped his joint in her mouth, and proceeded to give him the wildest blow job he had ever before in his life had.
For a lass so tender in years, she had certainly been experienced at sucking cock. Her tongue had played around with the head until Mr. Purdy thought he would scream in ecstasy. Then she had let almost the entire shaft sink so deeply into her mouth that when she swallowed, it felt as if he were being milked. Well, Mr. Purdy is only human, and after very little of that treatment, she made him come. Blushing profusely, he admitted that he had come in her mouth, and that she had swallowed every drop of it. Holloway and I exchanged glances, wondering if maybe we had some kind of a kook on our hands. But the sincere way in which he told his story convinced us both that it was the truth. We urged him to go on.
After the girl had finished sucking him off, she got up and another one took her place. Mr. Purdy's cock had started going down, but there were still traces of come on the head. She smeared these droplets all over the still swollen tip; giving Mr. Purdy the sensation that there were a million little insects crawling all over it. Dropping his head, Mr. Purdy admitted that he didn't remember too much about what had happened for awhile. The feeling was so delicious that he thought he was going to faint.
"How many were there?" asked Sgt. Holloway.
"Three. And all three were young enough to be my daughter. There was the blonde, the one I told you about first. Then the second girl was a redhead. Really beautiful. And there was a little brunette; although she had a grip like a wrestler. She was the one holding me. I have never seen any one so small, yet so strong. I couldn't move. I know that might sound like I really wasn't trying very hard, but it's true. I swear it is. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't would I?"
"Relax, Mr. Purdy," Holloway soothed, seeing that he was beginning to raise his voice again. "We believe you. It's just that we need all the information you can supply. Now, go on. What happened next?"
Taking a big swig of hot coffee, Mr. Purdy went on with his story. After getting it hard, it seems the redhead pulled his balls out of his pants, and began kissing them. She didn't stop there however. They took his pants down, and she kissed him all over. That was when he got the lipstick on him. It was then that Mr. Purdy recovered from the shock of what was happening and started to make an effort to get away. All three of the girls forced him to the floor, and while two of them sat on him, the redhead stood, and slowly pulled her dress up. Dropping his voice so low we had to ask him to repeat, Mr. Purdy said the redhead hadn't had any panties on underneath. She was, however, a real redhead. That much Mr. Purdy could testify, was real.
After she had her skirt hiked up over her waist, she had stepped astraddle of Mr. Purdy. One of the other girls, the brunette he thought, was holding his cock upright, sort of jacking him off. Smiling at him seductively, the redhead had then lowered herself agonizingly slow, until her cunt was just barely touching the tip of his staff. Then, she had tormented him by rubbing the moist opening over his cockhead, holding the lips open so that his cock would almost penetrate her. After what had seemed like a lifetime of torture, she had suddenly dropped on him, completely enveloping his throbbing sex organ. Mr. Purdy admitted that he had become so hot by what she had been doing that he had come almost at once. As soon as he had started shooting off in her however, she had jumped up, and his prick had fallen onto his stomach, the warm, sticky, fluid gushing out all over him.
As he lay there writhing, the blonde had leaned over and licked every drop of the man-milk from his skin. Then, laughing gleefully, all three of the girls had jumped up, and leaving Mr. Purdy laying on the floor, with his pants down around his ankles, had rushed out of the room, giggling and blowing him kisses.
Mr. Purdy had been so stunned that he could only lay there, the high pitched tinkling of the girlish laughter still ringing in his ears. It had taken a long time before he had managed to gather his wits about him enough to try and get up. Staggering to his feet, he had made it to a wash basin, and washing his face with cold water, had convinced himself that it had really happened. Shaking his head, Mr. Purdy mumbled something about what a crazy town New York was. He said he wished he had never come here. Nothing like that had ever happened to him before. Mr. Purdy sat, staring into his coffee cup, shaking his head.
"How did you get tied up?" I asked. "Huh?"
"Tied up? How did you get tied up. You said the girls left, and then you made it to a wash basin. What happened then?"
"Oh yes. Well, as I was standing there the door opened and all three of them came rushing back in. It all happened so quick. I ... I don't exactly recall what did happen then. They grabbed me, and the next thing I knew my hands were tied, and they had pulled my pants back up. Then they were gone again. That's when I came here." Mr. Purdy finished the last of his coffee, then looking at Sgt. Holloway, he demanded, "Well! Aren't you going to do something?"
"We will do everything we can Mr. Purdy. But you will have to admit you haven't given us very much to go on. You can't even tell us for sure what building the attack took place in. All we have to go on is a partial description of a gorgeous blonde, a beautiful redhead, and a very strong petite brunette. Think hard Mr. Purdy, isn't there anything else you can remember? Anything at all, no matter how insignificant it might seem to you. It might be important."
Mr. Purdy accepted the fresh coffee, then staring at it hard, concentrated. But after a short time he could only shake his head, and looking first at me, then Sgt. Holloway, declared that he had told us everything that he knew, or could remember. A pained and puzzled expression that suddenly appeared on his face prompted me to ask him if he was hurt.
"No, at least not the way you think. I was just running the whole thing over again in my head. It seems so damned incredible. Even I can't believe that it happened. But," he paused, indicating a stained napkin that he had used to wipe some of the lipstick off with, laying on the table next to his arm. "That sure as hell isn't catsup on that napkin. What a town this is. A guy can't even go to the can. What am I going to tell my wife? You tell me officer, what am I going to tell my wife about this whole thing? You think she is going to believe me?" Snorting, he answered his own question. "You know damned well she isn't. You fellows know how women are. And whether you believe it or not, I've been married to the same woman for almost twenty years, and I have never cheated on her. Except for that time I got a little drunk at the convention in Paducka Falls. But you really can't count that ti...."
"Yes, well I'm sure that you have been a proper husband. Now why don't you just go back to your hotel, and we'll call you if anything comes up. You are going to be in town for a few days aren't you?" Sgt. Holloway said, interrupting what sounded like it was going to be a long hearts and flowers story.
"Yea! We are going to be here for another two days," replied Mr. Purdy, reaching for his coat. Then remembering that he hadn't thought of anything to tell his wife, he quickly turned back.
"But what am I going to tell Emma? That's my wife, Emma. What am I going to tell her? You tell me?"
"Why tell her anything Mr. Purdy?" Holloway answered sighing heavily. Man, some of the characters a cop had to put up with.
"Huh?" a bewildered Mr. Purdy grunted.
"Why tell her anything at all. Why don't you just go back to the hotel, take a nice hot shower, and then go about your business as if nothing had happened. After all, it really isn't so terrible. There are no marks or scars. Nothing at all that would give your wife a clue as to what actually happened. So, unless you tell her, there's no way for your wife to find out, now is there?'"
Mr. Purdy just looked at us. He didn't say anything for a long time, then finally he slowly shook his head. "She wouldn't believe me anyway. You fellows know how women are. She wouldn't believe that three pretty young girls jumped me in the men's room, sucked me off, then fucked me. She just wouldn't believe that I didn't have anything to do with it." Mr. Purdy convinced himself that such was the case, and went right on out of the room, still shaking his head, still mumbling to himself. The poor fellow was having trouble convincing even himself that it had really happened.
After Mr. Purdy had left, I poured my fifth cup of bad coffee for the night, and picking up the report form that Holloway had been filling out, glanced over it.
"What do you think?" I asked.
"Sounds pretty wild doesn't it?" he answered noncommittally. "What do you think?"
"Well, the guy was obviously telling the truth. The thing that bothers me; why? Some kind of a joke? If the guy lived here in town, there would always be the possibility that one of his friends was playing a joke on him. But if that was the case, surely one of them would have stepped forward by now. Even if it was a convention joke, same thing. Nope, I don't think it was something instigated by anyone he knew. There has to be another reason. Any ideas?"
"You believe him then?"
"Yea! Don't you?"
"Uh uh! I believe him all right. And not just because he sounded so damned sincere either. He is the third one to report something like this in the last month. And not just at this station house. Once up on the West Side, and again down in the Village. If we have had three reported, just think of how many times some guy wouldn't say anything."
The truth of what he said made sense. I nodded my head soberly. The information that there had been two other report cases came as something of a surprise. Once, yes. It could have been a practical joke, a spur of the moment dare by a bunch of girls out on the town, something like that. But three times? There was a story here, and my nose started itching like it always did when I got close to something hot.
"You sure about those other two cases? Same thing, same way?" I asked Holloway.
"Almost," he answered, taking the report form out of my hand, and passing his hand over his hair. "Little different places, and different girls; except for the blonde. She crops up in all three. Weird! That's what it is, weird. When I first heard about it, I thought it was someone trying to put us on. But then when the second one came through, me and a couple of the boys from another division started doing some snooping around. Everything we came up with pointed at fact. All three of the victims fit pretty much into a pattern. Middle aged, not much in the way of looks, pretty nondescript sort of guys. All of the attacks took place at about the same time, in more or less out of the way places. Weird, man; weird! The chief is going to flip when he sees we got another one. It's all right if they fuck around with the locals, but when they start bothering the tourists, the mayor gets into the act, screaming like a banshee. Man, I gotta' come up with something, and do it fast. If you have any ideas, let me in on it. I could sure use some."
"Yea! Well, as a matter-of-fact I don't. But, I do have a few friends in the tenderloin district, and some down in kooksville. Maybe if I put the word out, I can get a nibble. It's worth a try anyway."
"Thanks," Holloway said, and from the haggard expression, he meant it.
I hung around the station house for the rest of the evening, but it was pretty dull. Only routine stuff; a couple of dozen muggings, a murder, three rapes, two armed robberies of local stores, with twenty or so burglaries thrown in for flavoring. All pretty common, and not very newsworthy. What the hell. When it came to news, people wanted to read about what was happening to other people; not to themselves.
Finally, pressed by a deadline, I managed to make a sort of story out of the murder. It was a case where an addict knocked off his pusher, after catching the pusher making it with the addict's chick. Not really much of a story, but since the pusher turned out to be a fourteen-year-old lesbian, I thought just maybe my editor might give it the go. As I figured, he didn't think much of it; too old hat, but since he was in a hurry to be at Mike's Place, on his usual stool when they opened, he called me a few choice names, and let the story go through.
Deciding that there was nothing else to be gained by hanging around, I waved goodbye to Holloway, and after promising to keep in touch, went out to the police parking lot to get my car. I collected my two fish from the lot guard for our standard night's bet; two fish that my hubcaps would (he said) or would not (I said) still be on the car. I usually won, although for awhile there it was neck and neck. Starting my car, I carefully eased it out of the gate. You have to be careful going out of that particular gate, because the kids frequently use that street for a drag strip. If you don't watch it-Wham!-you got a lawsuit on your hands. And the last thing I need is an irate parent breathing down my neck, while I quietly have to run up a twenty thousand dollar hospital bill in the local charity ward. Who needs it?
Seeing that it was almost three o'clock, I speeded up just a little. My bird always get squirrelly as hell if I'm late picking her up after she gets off. Wanda, my chick, works at the "Red Rose," a local night spot. She is a go-go dancer, and helps convince the out-of-towners what a cesspool the city is. Funny thing though. None of these characters ever seem to catch on that the only people in the joint are from out of the city. Well, it takes all kinds.
Wanda is a cute little bundle of joy that stands five foot two, has eyes of blue, and a pair of forty-two inch globes that I just love to orbit around. Man, when she comes on, I go off, and I mean way off. I met her about six months ago, and we've been swinging steady ever since. She bitches quite a bit when I'm late, but after we get home in bed, she forgets all about it. Me too.
Parking the wheels in front of the fire hydrant at the entrance of the club, I flipped the door keep an ace, and went inside. The music, as usual, was bad, but plenty loud. Cindy Lou, another chick at the club, was just finishing her bit, and the T-Boys were lapping it up; and they were almost able to drown out the tinny sound of the band. But not quite. Once inside, the smoke burning my eyes, it took a couple of minutes to adjust. Meanwhile, Wanda had seen me come in, and bouncing, literally, over to me, she grabbed my arm and pulled me to an empty table. Wanda was on a break, and was due to go on as soon as Sue Ann, another go-go girl finished. It seems that Wanda had drawn the long straw that night, and had to finish up. Cindy Lou and Sue Ann, getting the short ones, could split as soon as their bit was done. Wanda didn't look happy.
"Gee baby," she wailed. "I got fucked tonight. I think that whore Cindy pulled a fast switch on me. This is the second night in a row that I've got hung up."
"Don't sweat it," I answered, yelling at the top of my lungs so that she could hear me. "I need a Utile rest anyway. Rough night." Actually I didn't mind at all. About the only time I ever got to eyeball other chicks was when she had to work late. I hadn't seen Sue Ann do her thing yet. She was new to the club, and I hoped it might prove interesting. Besides, between my job and Wanda, I was one busy boy. Wanda was the only chick I had ever met who kept me so turned on that for the most part I was half dead most of the time, and half asleep the rest. I hadn't been kidding when I said I could use the rest.
Cindy Lou had just finished, and after pausing long enough to let one of the customers give her a tip by shoving it inside her G-string, copping a feel while he was about it, she headed out through the little curtain in back. Just as she disappeared, the band struck up a loud finale, and a tired, slightly drunk M.C. took over the mike.
"All right," he yelled into the mike. "Let's hear it for little scintillating Cindy, the gorgeous gyne from Georgia." There was a smattering of applause, accompanied by several loud cat-calls and whistles from a table occupied by four very happy citizens from Broken Creek, somewhere or the other. Apparently they were the ones who had been tunneling the stuff to the M.C. because he made a big production about acknowledging their appreciation. My conviction was fortified by the joke he told; so old that only very happy citizens from Broken Creek, somewhere or the other, would laugh at it. They probably told it to him.
"Shay," the M.C. mumbled. "Do you know the difference between snowmen and snow women?" Without waiting for an answer, he hurried on, lest the yokels get wise. "Snowballs, baby, snowballs!" Convulsing into fits of stage laughter, the M.C. pointed to his benefactors, who were likewise convulsed into exaggerated whoops of glee. Man, let's face it. Broken Creek was never like this. Thinking that one over, I almost formed an attachment for Broken Creek.
I almost felt sorry for the M.C. What a lousy way to make a buck, mooch a few watered down drinks, and avoid paying alimony. It was almost enough to make a man want to go back to his wife. But, if the guy kept getting enough live ones like his frolicy foursome, maybe he just wouldn't give a damn anyway. I kind of hoped so.
Finally regaining his composure, along with a fresh drink handed up to him by one of the happy citizens, the M.C. went on with the show. "All right folks," he gasped, taking a big swig of the watered down booze, and making an appropriate face. "Time to get on with the interesting part of the show." A few shouts of encouragement greeted that. Frowning, the M.C. went on. "The 'Red Rose' is fortunate to have with us tonight, for the first time on any stage in New York, a lovely lass from South Carolina. The Beautiful, lusty, busty, siren of the south, Miss Sue Ann. Come on boys, let's hear it."
Still holding both the glass, and the mike, the M.C. almost dropped both when he tried to clap his hands. Making a lunging grab for the booze, his legs got caught in the mike cord, and he unceremoniously fell flat on his ass, much to the merriment of the foursome in front. Getting him untangled, they helped haul him down off the stage, just as the band set about torturing still another piece of music. The curtains parted, and a strikingly beautiful blonde glided smoothly on stage. I felt my balls tighten, and was aware that it was getting pretty crowded down there. That was the rub with jockey shorts; no room to expand.
Sue Ann was absolutely beautiful. There is no other way to describe her. Although of only average height, she gave the appearance of being tall; this thanks to her slim, firm, lithe body, which was put together with all the right pieces in the right places. I felt myself beginning to pant. Man, was she some chick. Her tits, firm, hard, and upthrust, were just barely covered by a gauze-like piece of fabric tied behind her neck. Her G-string was little more than two small triangles of the same flimsy material, and her cunt, bare of any hair, could be seen easily. The T-boys were going wild, and if any of them had been wearing contacts, they would have popped them long ago.
Wonder of wonders, Sue Ann could actually dance, and considering the rank type of music she had to work with, she was doing a hell of a job. The nipple on her right tit seemed larger than the other one, and through the gauzy film, I could see that it was taut, and erect. My own meat had somehow gotten in the same state, but I had made one mistake. Forgetting about Wanda. But she didn't forget about me.
Feeling a sharp tug on my arm, I was rudely snapped back to reality, and turning, I found myself looking into the flashing eyes of the girl, who only that morning I had sworn to love forever. Man she was some kind of freaked out. I couldn't hear all she was saying, but the sparks flying from her eyes sure got the message across.
"You bastard," she screamed. "Just what in ... you looking
"Easy baby, easy," I yelled back, trying to pull her to me. "I was just looking at her in a clinical sort of way. You know, sort of seeing if she was as good as you."
"Liar!" she hollered back. Then, moving fast, her hand went under the table and she grabbed my dick before I had a chance to move. "You son-of-a-bi...." She screeched, the last syllable being drowned out. "You let that bleach blonde, two-bit whore give you a hard-on. I ought to pull ev...." Again the last part was overshadowed by the blaring band, but the tugging action she was giving me said what she had in mind better than words. I quickly reached under the table and grasped her clinched fist in self-defense. Wanda could be one hell of a mean chick when she got worked up. Pulling her to me, I pinned her arms.
"Cool it, luv," I yelled into her ear, in what was supposed only to be a whisper. "You got it all wrong. I've had this up ever since I came in and saw you. You know how you affect me. One look at you, and pow! Instant straight-pole." Then trying to put her on the defensive, I added, "that sure is one hell of a way for you to show appreciation." In what I hoped was a convincing pose, I pouted the best I knew how.
"Bullshit," she spat back, although some of the certainty had gone from her voice. Then looking at me carefully, and still not sure if she should believe me or not, she said, "For real baby? You're not putting me on? It's been hard ever since you came in?" The tone of her voice told me that she wanted to believe me so desperately, that it wouldn't take much to convince her. I decided that I'd play it down.
"Fuck it, chick," I answered, feigning anger, at the same time letting go of her hand and moving slightly away from her. "If you think that cunt on stage could get the kind of action out of me that you get, then you just think whatever you want to. I'm too tired to rap about shit like that. Personally, I wouldn't trade her for two hairs off the back edge of your cunt." I had to force myself not to grin. I knew that that last would do the trick. But it had been close.
"I'm sorry Johnny," Wanda purred, her hot breath doing crazy things in my ear. "I know you wouldn't ... that is, I don't think you would fuck around on me." Her anger returning momentarily, she shouted, "at least you'd better not. If I ever caught you, I'd cut the motherfucker off." Then cooling down again, she laid her head on my shoulder, at the same time letting her finger tips run up the inside of my thigh until they reached my still swollen meat. "Besides, I'm the only one that knows how to take good care of you. Isn't that right, Johnny? Isn't that what you told me?" The warmth of her hand made my joint begin to throb. I swallowed hard, trying not to look in the direction of the stage.
"You know it's right baby," I replied, swallowing hard again. "Remember what happened this morning?" Out of the corner of my eye I could see swirls of golden blonde hair twirling round and round, and the music even seemed to get better. Wanda squeezed slightly; I swallowed again.
"Prove it!" Wanda ran the tip of her tongue around the inside of my ear, and the beat of the music banged away inside my head.
"Huh?" I asked stupidly. The flashing flesh was moving in and out of my field of vision with tantalizing effect. Sue Ann was just out of focus, but I could still tell that she was gaining in momentum as her dance became headier. The freight train roar of the crowd told me the same thing, and the T-boys had started stamping on the floor. I wanted to look so badly my mouth had gone dry.
"I said, prove it," Wanda cooed, all lovey-dovey now, and massaging my hard cock relentlessly. At the rate she was going, she would have me shooting off in my shorts before long. I knew perfectly well what she meant, since we had done it many times before.
Wanda never wore anything under the simple pullover dress she put on between her acts. Underneath, there was nothing but erect tits and hot, moist pussy. She would simply pull my cock out, lift up her dress, then sit on my lap; letting my cock sink deep into the wonderful warmth of her slit. Sitting there, with no one being the wiser, she would then contract her inner muscles, milking me until I deliriously exploded, filling her with hot, creamy come. The fact that she would always have to clean herself up afterwards never seemed to bother her, and more than once when I had come in a little uptight, she had fixed me up. Now she was in the mood again, and there was nothing I could do but go along. Not that I really felt exactly put out about the whole thing. To tell the truth, I felt pretty fucking uptight right then too.
Grabbing her by the hair, I glued my lips to hers. Wanda's educated tongue flicked out, setting a series of small brush fires every time it touched. At the same time, she expertly worked my zipper, and soon I felt the glorious heat of her bare hand on my meat, then it was out. No one even paid any attention to us, their gaze riveted to the stage. I was going to have to take a look, even if Wanda wound up kicking me in the balls. When she stood up, I grabbed the opportunity.
Sue Ann was bent almost completely backwards, her feet firmly set, and legs widely spread. She peeked back at us from between her open legs, at the same time gently caressing the insides of her thighs. Her cunt was so clearly out-lined that I could even see her clit protruding through the teasing gauze. Even the musicians, usually a bored lot, had started taking notice, and the beat was exotic and sensuous. My prick began throbbing wildly, and then my field of vision was blocked by Wanda, who had lifted her skirt, and was even then holding onto my erect member as she slowly settled herself down over it.
Once Wanda had my joint completely in her, she began to frantically milk it, hugging me to her with an urgency. She became so excited that she even began to bounce a little, something she would do when she was going to come herself. As her fiberous muscles clamped down hard on the engorged head of my dick, she pulled herself up slightly, making me moan loudly. Over her shoulder, I could see Sue Ann had gradually worked her fingertips up the insides of her thighs until she was now at the edge of the thin covering over her slit. She was toying with the edges, and the crowd was going wild. For once I couldn't blame them. She was nothing short of sensational. If I hadn't been fucking Wanda right then, I would probably have shot my load anyway.
Between the wild, animal, hedonic dance that Sue Ann was putting on, and the delicious, delicate milking that Wanda was doing, I felt my semen begin to boil deep inside. My balls felt like they would burst if they swelled any more, and I knew that it wouldn't be long before I shot off. Wanda was bouncing in earnest now, and she was kissing my ear, and running her tongue around the inside so fast I was almost afraid she was going to bite it off. From the heaviness of her breathing, I knew that it wouldn't take her more than another minute to come. When we both came together like that it was wild, and I knew I would wind up getting the stuff all over my pants. At that point however, I didn't give a fuck if the Russians walked down the middle of Pennsylvania Avenue in their skivvy shorts.
Sue Ann had grabbed the edges of the gauze, and pulled it so taut that her clit stuck out like a marble. Still bent over backwards, her eyes were closed, and it looked as if she had gone into some kind of a trance. She was working the coarse cloth back and forth across her enlarged clit frantically now, and I realized that she was going to come herself. The whole fucking place was going wild, and some of the T-boys were throwing wads of money up on the stage. I caught a brief glimpse of the trumpet player, and his eyes were so wide that I was sure they would pop out; but man he was sure as hell blowing the shit out of that horn. Like his very life depended on it.
Sue Ann dramatically yanked the thin fabric into the middle of her slit, clearly exposing the swollen lips of her pussy; at the same time fingering her button fiercely through the cloth. Wanda collapsed against me, and bit into my neck. I didn't even feel the pain. Just then she tightened her velvety pussy so tight I felt as if I were in a vise, and I felt her flooding herself. At the same time I exploded, the hot cream gushing out in angry, pulsating spurts. Grabbing her firmly about the waist, I helped her bounce up and down on me.
"Ohhh, Johnny," Wanda screamed into my ear. "Ahhhhh, babyyy!"
Letting go of her hips with one hand, I made a desperate grab for one of her huge tits, and finding it, squeezed it hard. She moaned even louder, and almost bounced herself right off my cock. Fortunately it was so hard, and I was so hot, that it rammed itself willingly back into its snug haven.
"Ohhhhh, Johnny, fuck me, baby!" Wanda gasped, increasing the speed she was bounding about. I then realized that she was going to make it a second time, something that wasn't really too rare for her when she got herself properly aroused. One look at Sue Ann's widely spread cunt made my meat again full of blood, and my hard-on seemed like it was going to last forever. The din from the crowd was so deafening that I could no longer hear what Wanda was saying, but as I again started shooting off, I really didn't give a good shit. Opening her legs as wide as she could, Wanda let my whole shaft drive deep inside of her; then holding for an instant, milked me violently. I exploded like a rocket on its launching pad, again filling her gaping cunt with hot come. I could already feel some of the sticky stuff trickling down over my balls, but it was the most wonderful sensation I had ever had. For a second, I was afraid that I might even black out.
Then it was over. As wild, and fantastic, and wonderful as it had been; it suddenly ended. Jumping high in the air, and straightening herself, Sue Ann dropped back to the stage completely erect. Pausing for a moment, she took a long, low, seductive bow and turning, rushed off the stage.
Where a moment before there had been pandemonium, now there was complete, deafening silence. The stage was empty, still littered with wads of thrown money. The band, their instruments still in playing position, froze. The trumpet player, his horn seemingly glued to his lips, only stood and stared at the still fluttering curtains through which Sue Ann, had just disappeared. Everything had come to an end so swiftly that everyone had been caught by surprise.
The patrons, most of them sweating profusely, sat with their gaping mouths dribbling saliva; staring at the curtains. Many didn't even seem to be breathing. They just sat there, some with their hands held rigid in the open stance of applause. Nothing moved. Not a sound was heard, except for the whimpering sobs of Wanda, her face buried in my shoulder. The poor thing was trembling. I had been too busy to count, but she must have come at least three times. I only got off twice, but man they were real ball breakers. My nuts would be sore for a week.
Everyone waited for Sue Ann to come back again. Nothing happened. The curtains finally stopped swaying, and just hung there, mute testimony of the taciturnity. Wanda gradually regained her composure, and raising her head, looked around. All eyes stared in the direction of the now still curtains. Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, she pulled my hanky from my breast pocket, then dextrously slipped it under her skirt; wiping my cock clean as it slipped out of her, and then using it as sort of a napkin. Wanda stood up, smiling, her face flushed and happy. Tossing her long hair back over her shoulders, she turned in the direction of the stage. Doing so, she bumped into a table. The noise broke the fragile stillness.
A very obese man sitting close by issued a wheezing sigh. The low murmur of voices began in the murky dimness; quickly followed by many shouts and cries for an encore. Sue Ann still didn't appear. The band found its collective voice, and began playing. The din increased until the M.C. finally succeeded in making it back to the microphone. Waving for quiet, the M.C. shouted into the mike.
"All right fella's, what did you think about little Sue Ann?"
The deafening roar that answered him had just about died down, still not producing any Sue Ann, when the house lights came on, and the band gave a blaring sign off. Glancing at my watch, I was astonished to see that over an hour had passed. It was after four. Wanda hadn't even had a chance to go on. Sue Ann's performance had taken so long that it was time to close up the joint. In fact, except for the mesmerizing influence of her act, the place normally would have been cleared out by now. Hurrying, Wanda moved toward the curtains, anxious now to change.
In the glaring brightness of the house lights, the club looked even shoddier than it really was. The thick smoke hung like a pall, the odor of stale alcohol permeating everything. The crowd was still shouting, whistling, stomping their feet; demanding that the M.C. again produce Sue Ann. Swaying slightly, he alibied that they had already stayed open past the legal closing hour, and that they had to get everyone out of there in a hurry. This excuse seemed to mollify some of the people, and quickly downing the rest of their diluted booze, they started moving toward the door. The band had already put away their instruments, and were busy trying to grab a quick one before the bartender put all the hooch away. A few customers, as usual, were trying to talk him into pouring that "one more for the road," and in the case of the good tippers he was allowing himself to be convinced. The stiffs went dry.
Eddie, the guy who managed the club for the organization, came over and sat down. With cool detachment, he watched as the bouncer and door keep hustled the last of the customers through the door, then fastened it. Turning to me, he asked if I wanted a drink; of the good stuff. I accepted. After the fucking and show combination, my mouth was so dry I needed something. Giving the high sign to the bartender, he turned back to me.
"What'd you think?" he asked, keeping his voice noncommittal.
"About what?" I asked, pretending ignorance of what he was talking about. With Eddie, sometimes the less you knew, the better.
"The new dame! What'd you think of her?"
"Wild!" I answered, shrugging my shoulders. "Not bad, but then again the other girls aren't exactly zombies." You gotta' play it cool with Eddie. Never can tell what he has in mind. For all I knew, he might be ready to give Wanda the bounce, and be trying to use me for a patsy. That Eddie was shifty as hell. That was one of the main reasons the organization had made him manager of the club.
"Bullshit," he sneered. "She was the greatest fucking dancer we ever had. You see those mark's faces? Stoned, man! Plain stoned. Why you coulda' walked off with all the bread in their pockets while she was on, and not a one of them woulda' twitched a whisker. Man, is that chick ever hot." Making a sound that passed for a laugh with him, Eddie went on. "Shit! The broad even gave me the hots." He laughed again.
Shaking his head in mock amazement, Eddie picked up one of the drinks that the waiter brought over, lifted it in a salute, then downed the whole thing in one gulp. Eddie had had his share for the night. He never had more than one, and then not until after closing time. Sometimes I even suspected that the only reason he even drank then was because it was against the law. That was the way Eddie thought. If a deal was straight, it was for "marks" only. If it was crooked, it was right down Eddie's lane.
Eddie was tough. He had been brought up on the lower East Side. Eddie learned to use a switchblade before he knew what a football was. When the kids played cops and robbers, Eddie would always be one of the robbers. He was practicing. The only thing Eddie ever hit with a baseball bat was a kid's head from a rival gang. Yes, Eddie was tough; and mean. The only reason I even bothered talking to him was that he had a thing about reporters. It made him feel big or something. Besides, he was a good source of information now and then. I remembered the story.
"Say Eddie? You hear any odd rumors around? You know, weird things like broads busting guys. Things like that."
Eddie looked back at me with his blank, cold, expressionless eyes. I could almost hear the wheels turning in his head. Eddie wasn't exactly bright, but he was careful. This boy wouldn't even take a shit until he made sure that the crapper flushed.
"Broads busting guys? You gotta' be kiddin'. What'd they want to do that for?"
"Yea, well if you hear anything, let me know. I'll appreciate the favor."
I took another sip of my drink, then stared blankly at the glass. I tried to concentrate on the tickling sound of the ice. Eddie knew something. I could tell. He was foxy, and the dumber he played, the deeper the shit was. If he kept quiet and didn't ask any more questions, I knew for sue that I would be right. Eddie changed the subject.
"Hey Johnny. One of the 'Big Boys' is having a party. Wanna' come?"
CHAPTER TWO - THE PARTY
I sat motionless, feeling my ticker start pounding like a triphammer. I had heard about those parties. This was the first time I had ever been invited, and since it had happened right after I had asked him about the story, my nose started itching like hell. I was on to something, I was sure of it. I decided to play it cool.
"Party?" I answered. "Gee, I don't know Eddie. Wanda and I were supposed to get something to eat after. Guess maybe I could ask her though. She's invited too, isn't she?"
Pausing for a moment, Eddie nodded sort of reluctantly. I could tell that he wasn't exactly overjoyed at the idea of Wanda coming along. I was even more sure that Eddie had something up his sleeve.
"What about the new girl? She going to be there?"
"Naw! She split. Right after her act. Dizzy broad. Won't stick around and bull the customers. If she ain't such a groovy stepper, I don't even have her here." Snorting derisively, he went on. "Who needs shit like that? But 'the boys' been complainin' lately about the gross. Guess I gotta' do something to pick things up a bit. Looks like she can do it. So ... I put up with her; for now. But later...." Eddie paused and rubbed his knuckles. He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't have to. I got the message loud and clear. I had always suspected that Eddie was a misogynist-a woman hater. It would fit.
"Well how about it, Johnny, baby?" he said, pulling himself away from his daydream. "You in?"
Again pausing before I answered, I finally nodded my head. What the hell. If even half of what I had heard about those parties were true, it could be a real interesting evening. Wanda wouldn't like it, but I knew I could get around her.
Wanda came back over to the table dressed in street clothes. Man, was she a knockout. Even after six months I still got hot just looking at her. Those big boobs of hers stuck out like bumpers on a mack truck. Wanda's miniskirt would have even gotten her thrown out of a Unitarian Church Social. Those drumstick legs of hers ... WOW! Even though she had already balled me twice, I felt my rod getting a little stiff. My mind raced over the idea of the party, and then locked onto what would happen if Wanda and I just split to her place. What a reporter won't give up for a lousy story. Taking a deep breath, I told her about it.
As expected, Wanda's eyes flashed. She had heard about the parties too, and she wasn't exactly jumping up and down with joy at the idea of turning me loose around all that snatch. When she had started for the table, Eddie had left. Wanda plopped down in the chair he had vacated, anger obvious on her face.
"Bullshit, Johnny, I'm tired. What's so important all of a sudden that you're making with the buddy-buddy bit for Eddie? I thought you felt the same way I do about the creep."
"Business, baby, business. I'm on to something, and I think Eddie knows something. Now do you think I would go to one of those lousy parties instead of taking you home, if it weren't important?" I punctuated my statement by reaching over and rubbing one of her nipples, grinning at her. That's the way it is with broads. You've got to make them feel wanted and important. If you didn't, they'd find someone who did.
Wanda just sat there, pouting. But as I felt her nipple beginning to swell, she glanced up at me through her eyelashes. Her face softened and she ran the tip of that wonderful tongue of hers over her lips. I had made the turn. She would go along.
"Johnny," Wanda breathed deeply. "Don't do that, at least not here. You know how that affects me. Johnny...." Wanda's breath was geting even louder, and her nipple was as big as a marble. I felt a stirring between my own legs, and stopped. If I kept on very much longer, I would forget all about the party.
Finishing my drink, I stood up and together we walked toward the door. I stopped long enough to get the address from Eddie. He said he would see us there later. He was counting up. The bartender, a thin faced guy who always seemed to look half-starved, looked hungrily at Wanda's tits. Let the son-of-a-bitch drool, I thought.
In the car, Wanda snuggled close, like she likes to do. The warmth of her lush body kept my motor running, and I almost regretted telling Eddie that I would come. But reviewing the strange details of the story in my head, I once again became anxious to get to the bottom of it.
Wanda nibbled at my ear. Her hand began making scintillating patterns on the inside of my thighs, and even through the thick material of my trousers her teasing movements began taking effect. That's the way it was with Wanda. She got close to me, and I felt like eating her up. Sure, I might look at other dames, but when it got right down to the nitty-gritty I wouldn't change Wanda for a thousand Sue Ann's. The thing about Wanda was that she did everything she did for my benefit. To tell the truth, I loved it. Wanda had distracted me so much that I had to slam on the brakes to keep from going through a red light. Lucky thing too, because there was a big car coming, and it just roared right on through the intersection. I got a brief glimpse of the driver; a woman with long blonde hair. I could have sworn it was Sue Ann.
"Johnny," Wanda breathed into my ear.
"Huh?"
"Promise me you won't fuck around at the party."
"Oh come off it doll. You know damned well that you are the only bird I'm interested in. To hear you tell it, you'd think that all I do is run around fucking chicks." Turning, I kissed her quickly.
"You probably do, you horny bastard," Wanda giggled. Then in a more serious tone, "I just better never catch you at it, buster. I'll put up with almost anything from you Johnny. I love you. But if I ever got wind that you were balling some other chick ... why ... I don't know what I'd do. Yes, I do. I'd catch you asleep, and cut the damned thing off. I would, Johnny. Really!"
Grinning, I kissed her again, a quick, noisy smack. Putting the car in gear again, I started off. Wanda was the kind of girl that would probably do just that. But in all honesty I can say that since the first time I balled her, I have never really looked too hard at another chick. When it comes to balling, Wanda is the greatest. There is nothing that she won't do to keep me happy, and let's face it. That's what counts.
Her hand was still moving, her fingertips making small circles that kept enlarging into bigger ones. So did my dick. Her warm hand rubbed across it, and the heat of it rushed through me like an electric current. I scooted myself down in the seat a little, and opened my legs a little more. I dug what she was doing, and it was a long way across town to the address Eddie had given me.
"There is one way you can make sure I don't get a roving eye."
"Ummm," Wanda purred saucily. "How?" But she knew how.
"Want me to tell you? Or can't you guess?"
"I haven't got the slightest idea," she answered innocently.
"Let me come in your mouth," I said woodenly. My own was dry as hell by now. Man, when Wanda gave a guy a blow job, he knew he had had a blow job. Out of sight!
The finger tips of her other hand caressed the back of my neck. I could feel the hair standing up back there, and my pecker jumped to full attention. At the same time, she was lightly scratching the head of it through my pants. Shit! If she didn't hurry up, I'd wind up coming right then and there. That late, there was barely any traffic at all.
Wanda's fingers began manipulating my zipper. She soon had my dick out, and was slowly pumping it up and down. She purred sexily in my ear, nibbling on the lobe. Man I was some kind of hot.
"Ouuu! My baby seems to have a problem," Wanda cooed.
I swallowed hard. She always fucked around like that first.
"Does my baby think Wanda's tongue can help his problem? Hummmm?"
I groaned, opening my legs wider. My shorts seemed suddenly about three sizes too small for my balls.
"Hummm?" Wanda repeated, letting the tip of her finger find the hole in the head of my cock. She scratched at it gently, and the sensations were driving me wild. My prick hurt so much it throbbed.
"Does baby want Wanda to run her pink little tongue in there? And when baby comes, does he want Wanda to put his meat as far into her mouth as she can, so his milk will go right down her throat? Hummmm?"
The tip of her finger was still working in the opening, and I moaned in delicious agony. If she didn't stop fucking around soon, I was going to stop and ram her head down on it myself.
"And while Wanda's tongue is doing beautiful things to him, does he want her to suck real hard on the head of it? Hummm? Is that what baby wants? For Wanda to run the tip of her pink little tongue all over him, and suck real, real, real hard?"
All the while she had been whispering in my ear, the warmth of her breath driving me wild. She jammed the tip of her tongue wetly into my ear then, squeezing my joint hard, and thrusting the sharp tip of her long fingernail deep into the small hole. It hurt, but I was so fucking hot by then I didn't give a shit. I almost lost control of the car.
"Goddamn you Wanda," I said hoarsely, my voice cracking.
Pulling her tongue out of my ear, she just giggled. Then adjusting herself in the seat, she leaned over my lap. I pushed myself back into the seat, then deciding that she still wouldn't have enough room, reached down and pulled the catch at the side of the seat. The whole front seat slipped backwards, leaving plenty of room for Wanda's head between me and the steering wheel.
Holding my shaft at the root, Wanda teasingly blew on the tip of my cock. I couldn't stand much more of her fooling around. Then I felt the tip of her tongue touch my cockhead, and grasped the steering wheel so tight my knuckles turned white.
She lightly ran the tip of her tongue all over the blood gorged tip, at last coming to the small opening on top. The tip dipped into that and I lurched upwards. I heard Wanda giggle again, then felt her lips sliding over the super sensitive surface; taking as much of it into her mouth as she could without pulling the tip of her tongue out of the hole. I was groaning regularly now, trying to shove my hips upward. I slowed the car. When Wanda was sucking my dick, I didn't want anything else on my fevered mind. She was terrific.
At last she let the tip out of its hole, and gradually took all she could into her hot orifice. At the same time she rapidly brushed her entire tongue wetly over the head, causing me almost excruciating agony. But the agony was such that I was more than willing to endure it. The hotness of her breath only made the sweetness that much more enjoyable. My eyes seemed to cloud up, and I slowed the car even more.
Wanda settled into a steady up and down bobbing of her head. Each time she would withdraw my meat, she would tighten her jaw muscles, and at the same time start sucking as hard as she could. The effect on me was devastating.
The car had slowed to a crawl, and I was thrusting my hips up at her wildly. I was so excited that I only remember that I yelled loudly once, and taking one hand off the steering wheel, put it on Wanda's head. Each time she would try to pull up, milking my heat as she did so, I couldn't control myself and tried to hold her head down on me. Naturally I lost the battle, and it didn't take long before I felt the hot lava boiling up inside me. I was ready to come.
Hearing my loud groans get even louder, Wanda started moving her head all that much faster. Each time she rammed my cock into her mouth she licked at its head swiftly, then let the tingling mass of nerve endings pass on through into the deeper regions of her mouth. On the way out, she allowed the edges of her teeth to scrap along the sides just enough to remind me of how vulnerable my manhood was right then.
When I came, I yelled as loud as I could. Wanda always went crazy when I started shooting my come in her mouth. She would catch just a little of the cream on her tongue, then wash the overheated knob with it. It would always drive me right up the wall, and I would wind up alternately begging her to stop, then to never stop. The car veered off sharply, heading for a lamppost. I couldn't care less. I had died and was now in heaven, and the only thing that would ever matter to me again was the delightfully wonderful things Wanda was doing to me with that educated tongue of hers.
The first hot jet landed right on Wanda's tongue, she later told me. Rubbing that back over the head of my dick, she at the same time started jacking me off as fast as she could; alternately sucking and beating. Wad after wad of thick cream ejaculated from my cock into Wanda's waiting mouth, and with each spurt I would thrust myself into her as deep as I could.
As I had started coming, a million suns exploded and I couldn't see anything. I let go of the wheel, placing both hands on her head raving all the while, and trying to keep her head buried over my joint. At the same time I managed to have enough presence of mind to take my foot completely off the gas, thus slowing the car considerably. After all, I didn't want to run into something and cause Wanda to bump her head on the steering wheel. She just might forget herself and wind up wounding my pride and joy with those sharp molars of hers. Talk about disaster? Man, like that would be a catastrophy; for me.
Wanda drank long and deep of my come. She milked me dry and then kept on insisting that I give up more. At last I was completely drained and just at the right moment regained my lost sight. I was less than five feet away from the post, and still moving. Gently I touched the Power Brakes, and the car eased to a standstill, less than a foot away. Wanda was slowly squeezing her hand up over the shaft, trying to force anything that was left out of my tube. When her clenched fist reached the back of the head of my joint, she applied so much pressure sucking at it that it started to be uncomfortable. She was determined that not a single molecule was going to get away from her.
Wanda released her iron grip on my pole, and after jabbing the tip of her tongue into the enlarged hole a few times, released it and started to raise her pretty Utile head. The smile on her lips told how pleased she was with herself. All I could do was sit where I was at and tremble, trying desperately to catch my breath. Shoving the gear shift into park, I leaned my head back on the seat, closed my eyes, and watched the pretty multicolored stars exploding in my head. Gradually I began to come down enough so that when I swallowed, I didn't almost choke on it. Wanda was great! No, terrific! No, not even that. She was simply the most fantastic dick-licker that I have ever met.
My hands trembled as I lit cigarettes for both of us. Wanda just sat by me smiling. She always did that after she had sent me out into orbit. The little bitch knew she was good, and she reveled in it. I knew she was good and agonized over it. The more I saw of her, the more I wanted to. The vixen had me hooked and good.
Calming, I backed up, and started for the address Eddie had given me. Gamely I tried to carry on a flippant conversation with Wanda, but my voice was so unsteady that it cracked. At last I just gave up and drove the rest of the way in silence.
Once we got there, I was lucky enough to find a parking place right away. Being careful to lock the car, I took Wanda's arm, and steered her into the lobby. It was one of those large, new, expensive, co-op apartments on the East Side. The people who lived there paid more per year for their apartments than I made, I reflected sardonically. An elevator-operator-door-guard eyed us suspiciously. When I failed to come across with the usual fiver before I told him where we were going, he eyed me even more suspiciously; throwing in a slight sneer for flavoring.
Apparently the party was being well attended, he didn't even bother announcing us on the intercom. The elevator lifted skyward rapidly, and in seconds he let us off on the 37th floor. As I led the way out, I let Wanda's right tit brush against his arm, then grinned to myself as he rolled his eyes. The bastard. If anything ever happened in this building worth writing a story about, I'd make damn sure his name was spelled wrong. He didn't even notice the hard look I gave him. He was too busy watching Wanda's ass wiggle down the hallway.
There was no doubt about where the party was being held. The noise could be heard all the way to the elevator. Although I had the apartment number, I didn't need it. As we got nearer the party, the din was so loud I wondered why the neighbors weren't complaining. Then I saw that the door was open, thus letting us hear it more clearly. The way these buildings were built, if the door had been closed, you probably couldn't hear a thing.
No one stood guard at the door as I had half-expected. Wanda and I just wandered in. The racket was almost deafening. The room was crowded; at least fifty people. The mixture was pretty evenly balanced, with a few more dames than guys. All the cunt was young, choice, and lovely. Against one wall a bar had been set up, and we headed for that.
The bartender barely acknowledged my drink order, but he fixed them fast. It was obvious that he had been at these bashes before. A real professional. I liked him right away. Anyone good at what they did, even if it was sweeping up, I liked. Making a mental note to drop some bread on the cat before we split, I turned and surveyed the group.
With a few exceptions, the men were mostly middle-aged. There were also a few older dames, although the way they had taken care of themselves it was hard to judge their ages. Their figures were all superb, their clothing expensive, and their hairstyles a work of art. They smelled like money, with a capital "M."
A vast, portly man headed in our direction, bearing down on us like a locomotive. He took both Wanda and I in, in one quick glance, and the sure way he looked made me vaguely uncomfortable. He was, without doubt, the "Big Boy" throwing this shindig. He looked like power, and the way he carried himself didn't change that any. He was sure of himself, and what he was going to do. Even as big as he was, he moved with surprising grace and speed. I put on my best smile, then sweat began to pop out as I wondered, too late, if I had come all over my fucking pants.
"Well, well," the fat man boomed. "So glad you could make it Mr. Bartley. And, your most charming companion too. Welcome! I see you already have a drink. There is a buffet on the other side of the room if you would care for anything to eat. If there is anything I can do for you, please let me know. My pleasure, I assure you. My pleasure."
As he had spoke he had grabbed both our arms at the elbow, and seemed to draw us into him. I could see why he had made it so big. The man was overpowering, with one of the most vigorous personalities I had ever seen. I had been stunned when he called me by name. He had spoken so solidly, yet smoothly, that neither of us had had a chance to say a word before he disengaged himself from us, ponderously promenading over to a knot of people nearby. He had left the weight of his presence behind him. Sipping her drink, Wanda, her gaze still on the retreating back of our greeter, asked me who he was.
"Don't know," I answered, sipping my own drink, finding it just right. Just had to remember to lay some bread on that bartender.
"Well, he seemed to know you," Wanda persisted. "Sure you don't know him? I mean, it's kind of strange isn't it for someone to greet you, and you not even know who they are."
"Yea, I guess so. But you know how it is. Meet a lot of people in this business. Hell, I can't remember them all." Hoping that that would hold Wanda for awhile, I studied the other guests.
They were pretty much what you would expect to find at a party like this. Well-dressed, affluent, carefree. I recognized a few faces. The aide to the Mayor was among them. He of course would be there. When election time came around, it took money. These people had it, and to keep things in his Honor's favor, the smiling, charming, helpful, everpresent aide earned his paycheck.
Although I had heard the music, I just then spotted the band. They were grinding out a popular ballad, and there were even a few people dancing. Most though were just standing around talking, with a drink in their hand. I observed that the fat man was by the improvised band stand, and the leader was leaning over, listening to something he was saying. Nodding his head, the bandleader looked at his watch, the nodded his head again. He went back to blowing his saxophone, and the fat man disappeared from my view.
Wanda was talking to a guy pretty much in his cups. Seeing that she would be all right for awhile, I squeezed her arm, indicating that I was going to circulate for awhile. She didn't look too happy about it, but she nodded anyway. Heading in the general direction of the buffet, I was stopped short by a tall, volumptuous redhead. She was no more than twenty-one, if even that, and the dress she had on looked as if it had been built around her.
"Hi!" she said, displaying perfect teeth when she smiled. "I haven't seen you before. You just get here?"
"Yea," I managed to answer. In the titty department, Red was almost as good as Wanda. I wondered what they would taste like.
"I haven't been here too long myself," she continued, shifting herself so that I got a better look at her tits. "I've been looking for the bar."
Remembering that I had left Wanda at the bar, and not wanting to let this delightful hunk of womanhood go, I suggested something to eat instead. I already knew what I wanted to eat. Her!
"Well, all right. First though, let me have a sip of yours. You have no idea of how dry I am."
Red didn't know it, but I would have let her have anything she asked me for. And, a few things she might not ask for. Handing her my glass, I took her by the arm, steering her in the direction the fat man had alleged the buffet to be. Reaching it, I took two plates, filled them with a wide variety, then looked about for some place to sit. An open door caught my eye. Motioning to it, I led the way, and Red followed close behind. Her perfume had made my dizzy, and in spite of already making it three times that night, I felt my meat jumping.
The open door led into an anteroom. Surprisingly, it was empty. Setting the plates down, I quickly closed it to give us a chance to be alone. She eyed me with an amused expression, then handed my glass back to me, empty. Sitting it on the table, I handed her one of the plates. Damned if I was going to split and leave her for someone else to find.
"What's your name?" I asked, nibbling on a radish.
"Ellen," she answered, munching a cheese covered cracker. "What's yours'? I don't seem to remember ever seeing you at one of J.B.'s parties before."
"Johnny. Johnny Bartley. I'm a newspaperman," I answered her. Boy was she stacked. J.B.? That must be the big man, I theorized. "I just came tonight. A friend invited me."
"Oh. I saw you talking to J.B. earlier. You were with that nice looking little girl. The one with the ... er, how shall I say it?"
"Big boobs?" I grinned at her, letting my gaze fall to her cleavage.
"If you insist," she laughed. I liked the way she laughed. It made me all tight inside.
"You are not exactly a light weight yourself," I commented, putting my plate down and moving in on her.
"Now Mr. Bartley," she countered, deftly getting up and avoiding my grasp. "I do think that we should be getting back to the others. After all, what would J. B. say if he were to come in. It would be rather rude, don't you think?"
I wanted to tell her that I thought it was pretty fucking rude of her to give me a dose of the stones, then flit away. Instead, I sighed heavily, rose, and followed her to the door. Once there she turned quickly, gave me a brushing kiss on the lips, reached down and squeezed my cock. Then she flung open the door, and was gone. I just stood there, tingling. The tingling stopped, and the anger set in.
A motherfucking prick teaser! That's what she was. Just another tool-titillating bitch. And just like a fool I had walked right into it. I deserved to have my ass kicked. Shaking my head, I consoled myself by telling my ego that that was what I got for fucking around with other broads. What did I need them for? I had one of the best chicks in town.
I could see her wiggling through the crowd, her red hair piled high like a rooster's comb. J.B. suddenly loomed up in front of her, and they started talking. Shrugging my shoulders, I started off in the opposite direction. I hoped my face wasn't too red; the pig had gotten me worked up pretty good. Fuck her. Snorting, I reminded myself that that was exactly what I had had in mind.
Looking around I recognized several faces. There was Doctor Snyder, a leading gynecologist. Doctor Morton, a psychiatrist, was also there. When I saw Doctor Martin, a well known neurologist, I got worried that this might be an A.M.A. meeting. All were well known, well to do, and newsworthy. My reporter's mind started working. The chick on the society column might be plenty pleased if I gave her a nice little package like this. Could make me a lot of points with her. What the hell. That was how it worked. You did a favor for someone, and they did one for you.
Seeing Jock Henderson, a reporter on a competition paper, I waved my hand. But neither of us tried to strike up a conversation. That was the way it was. In a business as fiercely competitive as the newspaper business, you just didn't get too chummy with your competition. There were more than one ex-newsmen who could testify to the wisdom of that.
At last giving up, I made my way back to the bar. Wanda was no where in sight. I wasn't worried though. She sometimes would wander off like that. But she never went very far. I motioned to the barkeep, and soon sipped a fresh drink. Just had to remember to lay it on that chap. Mixed one hell of a good drink.
I decided to relax a little. Why not? The booze was expensive, the broads nice to look at, and the music soft. I didn't get to mix in this kind of company very often. Might as well make the opportunity pay off. Taking another sip of the drink, I glanced toward the door.
Eddie was just coming in. One of the organization gorillas was with him, a guy named Vito. I'd seen him around. The cops had tried to pin a Murder One on him about a year ago. Like everything else, the organization's machinery soon succeeded in making all the evidence they had simply disappear. Files got lost, fingerprint cards evaporated, witness lost their memories, and certain judges suddenly began to worry deeply about the legality of the way any evidence that did remain had been gathered. Vito had given the homicide boys the horse laugh as he had swaggered out of the Tombs.
A big man, over six feet and weighing a good two-twenty-five, Vito was without a doubt one of the ugliest human beings I had ever seen before in my entire life. His face looked kind of like someone had run over it with a meat-grinder-more than once. His nose had been broken so many times it zigzagged. His full lips were locked in a perpetual sneer. His dark, wavy hair hung down over a low brow, almost touching his craggy eyebrows. He wore his hair long, as was the style, and it helped cover his cauliflowered ears. His torso resembled a large barrel, and was supported by short, stubby legs. All in all, Vito was one mean hombre. The best advice you could give an enemy was ... tangle with him.
Spying me, Eddie headed in my direction, followed by Vito. I wished they hadn't. After Red had given me the hots, I had sort of lost my appetite for anything except a little hooch, then home to bed with a warm, hot pussy. Preferably Wanda. I wondered then where she had disappeared to. It wasn't like her to be gone so long.
"Well I see ya made it," Eddie said. He waved his hand at the bartender and was immediately presented with a glass of water. Vito asked for whiskey, straight. It fit.
"Enjoyin' yourself?" Eddie asked.
"So far. Not much happening though. From what I had heard, I expected a lot more. Hell, I've been to livelier church socials."
Eddie snorted. "Easy pally. The fun ain't started yet. Wait 'til J.B. gets ready, then you're gonna see sumppin'. I mean, really see sumppin'. By the way pally," Eddie said, lowering his voice and moving closer. "You unnerstan' this is all off the record. Right?"
I nodded my head, staring into my glass gloomily. Well, so much for making points with the broad in the society beat. I should have known it though. Shindigs like this were always off the record. The people here were big, with a capital "B." Everyone knew they were doing it, but no one ever admitted it. Finishing my drink, I handed it back to my buddy the bartender. What the hell, might as well get something out of it.
The band gave a blaring introduction, jarring me out of my self pity. Looking up, I saw that a couple of guys I recognized as pals of Vito's had closed the door. J.B. in the meantime had climbed up on the bandstand, aided by the bandleader, and was holding his hands up for quiet. His permanent smile, frozen on his face as usual, for some reason irritated the hell out of me. I realized then that I was getting just a little tight. Had to watch myself. I looked around for Wanda. Where the fuck was that broad anyway?
"Good Evening, ladies and gentlemen," J.B. boomed out. "I'm so pleased that you could make my little party tonight. Especially since I know how boring they must be." That bit got a healthy chorus of titters. The crowd moved closer.
"I trust everyone is taken care of in the food and drink department?" No one said anything, but several people nodded their heads. I couldn't help comparing them to trained seals.
"Good! Now then, it is time for us to get on with tonight's entertainment. I have engaged a lovely pair of dancers I think you will find most amusing. After that," J. B. paused and glanced about the room before continuing. "I have a very interesting surprise for you. I assure you that you won't be disappointed."
Stepping forward, J.B. reached out and was helped from the bandstand. As he got down, the lights in the large room began to dim, and at the same time some large curtains that I had thought to be a wall began parting, revealing another large stage. The stage was empty except for a large, round bed and the statue of a man. Peering closer, I realized that the molded image had a tremendous hard-on, and that on the hard-on had been placed a french-tickler; short, stubby, little prongs glued to an ordinary rubber. It made the false dingus look like a medieval war club. Three spot lights lighted the stage. One focused on the bed, which was covered with a shining satin bedspread. Another was on the statue, and the third raced about the stage as if looking for something.
The band began an African beat, low, steady, pleasantly sensuous. The lights of the room were completely out now, and the only illumination came from the stage. The beat began to get steadily louder, and the moving beam moved faster. My own ticker caught on, and I forgot about Wanda. Something was about to happen, and I didn't want to miss anything.
The beacon finally settled into a bouncing steadiness, focused on one of the curtains leading off stage. The beat of the band kept getting louder. Hundreds of large, overstuffed lounging pads were being passed about. I didn't see where they came from, but when one finally came my way, I grabbed it and sat down. Most of the people had already done that. The pillow was deep and comfortable. I wished Wanda were beside me.
I had forgotten about Eddie and Vito, until Eddie jabbed me in the ribs. When I looked at him, he just winked, then looked back at the stage. I also saw Vito's face, pasty looking in the light from the stage. He looked even scarier than usual. I looked back to the platform.
A girl, small and petite, suddenly burst out into the middle of the scene. She had moved so fast that she was already there before most of the people were aware where she came from. She was completely naked. My dick jumped at the sight of her lithe, well-muscled, trim form. She had been coated with something so her body shone; giving a scintillating brilliance as she moved.
The girl began to move. Slowly at first, keeping time with the music. Then she impelled herself faster, and the beat quickened. She started a slow, deliberate, sensuous dance about the male effigy, moving her arms like a snake dancer. I was enthralled.
The girl was one of the tiniest I had ever seen. Her body was absolute perfect in every detail. The firm, upthrust breasts were dotted with exquisite nipples that were taut and pointing. The waist was so small that I could have easily encased it in my hands. Yet, her muscular physique gave the undeniable impression of enormous strength. The combination just didn't seem to fit. She was all woman, attested to by her hairless cunt. Her pretty face was framed by dark brown hair, cut short. Effortlessly she moved about the stage, her muscles rippled powerfully and at the same time seductively.
Being fair to myself, I gave part of the seductive credit to the fact she was dancing around a nude statue with an enormous hard-on.
She was standing next to the statue now, her fingers caressing it. Slowly she worked her way down until she was almost touching the jutting dong, then she lept skillfully away, as if trying to avoid being captured. Speeding across the room, she jumped onto the huge bed in a swan dive, then lay still.
The beam that had been following her shifted. A man, a large, black giant, stepped onto the platform then. He had one of the biggest pricks hanging between his legs that I had ever seen on a man. There were several audible gasps from the feminine guests, and to tell the truth, if I had been a broad I'd have probably gasped to. He could have done justice to a mare.
The Black had a long, snake-like whip in his hand, and he popped it threateningly in the direction of the minikin. In turn, she cringed, a look of fear and horror on her lovely face. The black took another step forward, his prod swaying like a tassel. Again his lash hummed through the air, ending in a loud crack, this time much closer. The girl shrieked in terror, and moved further away, holding out her hands as if trying to protect herself.
The giant took another step, and again his tool waved, the whip sang, and the vacuum exploded at its tip; the sound reverberating about the room. The beat of the drum was increasing to a fever pitch now. Great beads of sweat showed clearly on the Black's ebony skin, and the girl's body shimmered ever brighter each time she moved. I became aware that I was perspiring also. Shit it had gotten hot in there all of a sudden. I loosened my tie, at the same time taking a deep swallow of my drink, never letting my gaze leave the drama unfolding before me.
Time and again the Black let the whip sing out, getting closer each time. Jesus! I couldn't believe that he would actually hit her with that damn thing. Man, oh man, but would that bullwhip cut meat. Just tike steak on a chopping block.
The girl, real fear showing in her eyes, dashed here and there about the stage. Even as the movements seemed helter-skelter, at the same time they were perfectly coordinated and exactly in time with the music. This alone made everyone realize that it was just a dance, yet the menacing way the black man wielded the whip gave the same amount of doubt. How could anything so real be faked so convincingly? The tempo of the music heightened.
The look of consternation increased in the young broad's face as the Black systematically got closer and closer to her. There was no other place for her to hide except to get behind, then in front of, the statue with the jutting dingus. Only then did I note that the image was gradually revolving. The movement was so slight that had I not taken such pains to study it before, I wouldn't have noticed that it had changed positions.
The Black now had her hiding in front of the man-object. She alternately peered at him from first one, then the other side. Her cunt was less than a foot away from the artificial cock. The wild, insane beating of the drum grew louder; and even wilder. The whip cracked again. Vociferously, the shrill scream split the electrified air. He had hit her. A short, red gash appeared just above her shoulder blades; followed by a small, thin, crimson trickle. The lash screeched through the air again; this time finding nothing but empty air. The terrified girl screamed again anyway. I was petrified. I couldn't move. It was as if I were in another world, and that this really wasn't happening. A drop of bright, red blood splashed onto the glimmering satin bed covering. I felt my stomach lurch.
In spite of the soporific effect of the action, the harshness of the breathing next to me attracted my attention. Turning my head slightly, I saw Eddie's face; lit up like a Christmas tree and perspiring profusely. His beady eyes glistened brightly, and his mouth was twisted into a ecstatic grin. His chest was heaving; I realized that the son-of-a-bitch was coming in his pants. He was loving it.
On stage, the Black popped the whip viciously. In trying to escape it, the girl had accidentally (?) impaled herself on the false dong. The head, plus a good two inches of the prickly prick had found its way into her slit, and she was wiggling in a vain attempt to unhinge herself from the stake. All the while the giant was cracking the whip about her.
Another stentorian screech rent the air. The guy had cut through her right buttock. Another red gash appeared, followed closely by free flowing blood. At the same time, she was forced forward on the thorny rod; burying another three inches into her small cunt. I could just imagine how she felt.
She kept looking over her shoulder at the Black. He was still swinging the whip relentlessly; striking dangerously close to her. I knew that she could feel the breeze as the tip passed close to her ass. In a desperate effort to escape, she had no alternative except to push herself forward on the cock. The further it went in, the wider she spread her legs. Finally it was all the way in her, and she had herself wrapped around the rigid effigy.
Still the lash sang out. The Black was moving from side to side now, aiming carefully, just barely missing her ass. The girl was humping herself onto the dong in a frenzy now; twisting and turning her ass every which way, doing anything to avoid the stinging bite of the whip's tip. The cock, complete with french tickler, was buried deep inside her.
Thrashing about wildly, her arms and legs wrapped tightly about the statue, the girl shrieked once again as the cruel ribbon found its mark. As the thin crimson cut began to trickle blood, I wondered how they could get any young girl to go through that. It was the wildest thing that I had ever seen before in my life. Not only was she getting her ass beaten, but she was impaled on one of the biggest flanged peckers I had ever seen. And from the way she was bouncing around on that thing, I knew that it wouldn't be long before she popped her cookies. Shit! I wished I had Wanda beside me.
Thinking of her, I looked around quickly, trying to spot her. She was nowhere to be seen. My gaze quickly returned to the stage as I heard the girl crying and moaning loudly. Yep! She was getting it off all right. Man was my dick up tight. Where the fuck was Wanda any way?
Finally the girl slumped. Her toes just barely touched the floor, and the giant's lash snaked out again; this time finding its mark. She screamed loudly, then weakly dragged herself off the impaling instrument she had jammed into herself. Freeing herself, she began dancing wildly about the stage again. The giant began cornering her, finally forcing her to the bed. She collapsed on it; staining it red in several places as her wounds touched the white satin. She rolled about, dodging the biting whip; whimpering and begging loudly that she be spared. The giant's face remained impassive, and he swung his whip untiringly. God, what a show.
Sobbing, the girl finally sagged, too tired to strain any more. Dropping the lash, the giant approached her. As he did so, his cock began taking on shape; swaying from side to side as he moved. Man what a joint. That bastard would make a mare whinny with delight.
It was obvious what he was going to do. He was going to fuck the girl. Just the thought of watching him ram that battering ram he called a prick into her made my mouth go dry. It wouldn't go. It couldn't. No cunt could take anything like that.
Suddenly the girl stopped sobbing. Her eyes opened wide. She watched with open horror as he came closer, his rod getting bigger with every step. She tried to edge herself away from him. By now even I could see that she was really scared. Shit! She had to be. No broad could even think about taking something like that without getting shook up. Where the fuck was Wanda?
The girl made a desperate, but futile, effort to wiggle herself free. Moving with exceptional agility, the giant grabbed her, pinning her effectively to the bed. She struggled with all her might, and I could see him grinning down at her. It was no use. She was no match for his brute strength. He was only toying with her; like a cat with a mouse. She was completely at his mercy. Still, she fought with all the strength in her young, well-shaped body. It just wasn't enough.
Fascinated, I watched with undisguised awe as he pinned her to the bed, then methodically forced her legs apart. Damn me for a depraved lecher, but I wanted to see him ram that thing in her. I knew that it had to be part of the act. Crap! Anyone knew that it had to be an act. Didn't it? Where the fuck was that goddamn Wanda?
After forcing her legs apart, the Black got both his arms under the backs of her knees. Raising his shoulders, he forced her legs back and up; effectively opening her slit wide for whatever he had in mind. His dick, completely hard and protruding obscenely in front of him, was absolutely enormous. Looking around, I could see that several of the girls present had their hands under their elegant evening dresses. I really couldn't blame them: I had no doubt that Wanda was probably doing the same thing. I had a momentary pang of wild jealousy. Fuck that cunt all to hell and back. Where was she when I needed her the most? Just like a dame! Fuck 'em all.
I couldn't help giggling to myself as I realized that was exactly what I wished I could do. Fuck 'em all! Christ, but was I ever worked up. I had seen a lot for my tender years, but never anything like this.
Having completely pinned her, the giant began thrusting his hips forward. The huge, ebony knob made contact with her open slit, and the girl went into another series of wild, frantic, convulsive, thrashing motions; again to no avail. I could hear her now pleading vociferously with the giant not to fuck her. Man, what an act.
Looking at the size of the Black's cock, then at the relative smallness of the girl's cunt, I had trouble convincing myself that it was an act. But hell man, I told myself. It had to be an act. The man had thrust his hips forward just then, and the big point disappeared from view; accompanied by a loud, mournful cry of anguish. A loud gasp of disbelief, coupled with depraved pleasure, rose up from the crowd. Most of the sound had a feminine tone to it.
Again the Black rammed himself forward, and still more of the dark meat disappeared into his pale-skinned victim. She cried out again, and I clearly heard the Black laugh lustily. He rammed into her again; burying still more of his immense prick deep inside her horribly stretched cunt.
A little over half of his dong was in her now. She lay there helpless, her legs thrown back over her head, her cunt opened wide and fully exposed to view. Everyone had a perfect line of sight, and could see his big balls hanging down, while the big tube was sunk into her solidly. The hands under the evening dresses were moving all that much faster now. The broads in the audience were sure as hell enjoying it, even if the girl with the huge thing in her cunt wasn't. What the hell, I thought to myself. It was all an act. She had probably had that cock in her so many times she recognized every pimple on it.
The Black began rocking back and forth now, fucking her badly used pussy with a purpose. Each time he would drive himself forward, more of his dong would sink into her. He fucked her faster and faster, and everyone there could hear his deep, throaty, animal grunts. Still more of his cock drove into her.
He was fucking her frantically now; sinking it into her almost to the hilt, then quickly withdrawing all but the head. It was obvious that it wouldn't be long before he shot his load deep inside her. It also was obvious that several of the cunt in the audience had already popped their jollies. They were leaning back, their mouths open, eyes shut, pumping away at themselves in a frenzy. I could have strangled that fucking Wanda right then. I needed her more than I had ever needed her, and where was she? Damned if I knew. Off playing fuck-fuck some where. Shit!
The guy on stage was really pouring it to her now. He would drill his cock deep into her; getting sonorous shrieks in reponse. She bucked wildly under his slashing assault, trying desperately to avoid being impaled by his huge dong. The false prick of the statue had been only a warm up compared to this. Even the thorny rubber that had been on it must have felt comfortable compared to what was going on in her slit now.
Suddenly, the girl's cries of pain were replaced by definite moans of excited passion. Instead of bucking away from the Black, she began thrusting up to him; purring loudly and stage-whispering pleas for him to prong her harder. Man, oh man! That bitch was beginning to really dig it. Where the fuck was Wanda?
Then the two of them were thrusting simultaneously; bouncing and pounding each other. They seemed to be all over the stain-covered bed at the same time, unable to stop, yet, physically inconceivable that they should continue.
A shrill groan of passion emitted from the girl, accompanied by repeated grunts and shouts of fulfillment from the man as he drove his instrument solidly into her; falling at last into a series of short, violent humps. It was all over. Everything was still. Not a sound was heard. Even the pulsating drum was silent. The lights began to dim slowly, then everything was dark.
Shit! What a show.
Where the fuck was Wanda? Man when I got my hands on that cunt, I was gonna ... well, anyway, something or the other.
CHAPTER THREE - THE CLUE
When the lights went on, the whole fucking joint burst wide open. Everyone in the audience stood up and shouted, stomped their feet, applauded, whistled; the whole bit. Not a bit like you would expect a bunch of swells to carry on. Man you better believe that I was right in there with them.
The curtains had closed, and the performers gone. The crowd had really been impressed. So was I. Hell, I had known it was an act all along. It was just that it had been so fucking real.
Eddie and Vito had suddenly disappeared. Looking around I spotted Wanda making her way through the crowd. She was wobbling a bit, and since she didn't drink, I could only suppose that somehow she had found some pot. Man did that chick dig pot. Just let her get a whiff of the stuff and she was in orbit.
Once she fell into me, my suspicions were confirmed. Giggling, her eyes bright and alive, she puckered her lips.
"Kiss, kiss, Johnny baby," she snickered. Weaving, trying to focus, she pouted her pretty lips. "Oh, Johnny. Don't be mad at little Wanda. Huh? Wanda only wanted to be happy. Come on baby, kiss, kiss, kiss." She giggled again, toppling into my arms. Shit but was she ever bombed. She must have blasted close to a quarter ounce. The aroma was strong about her.
"Where the fuck you been?" I demanded.
Flapping her arm out in the direction of the ante room I had had the redhead in, she said, "in 'ere! Thash all Johnny baby. Just in 'ere." She giggled again, then reached down and grabbed me by the meat. I angrily grabbed her arm. Man, this chick was bombed right out of her mind.
"Who with?"
"No one! Jus' a redheaded chick. She gave Wanda some real wit' grass baby. Wild! Wheeee! Johnny baby, Wanda is reallly groovin'." She giggled. "Johnny want some? Huh? Got som' extra, jus' in case. Huh? Johnny baby wanna' groove too?"
She managed to flop her hand in my face. I saw that it contained a small cellophane bag. There was enough grass in the bag for a couple of stiff joints. From the way Wanda was acting, I guessed she had already blasted several more than a couple.
"How much you already had?"
"Not much, baby. Only ... oh, I dunno! Forget! Wheee!"
She giggled again, and almost lost her balance. I knew that she wouldn't be long for this scene. I had to get her out of there and home before she went blanksville. She was stoned worse than a pyramid.
"Come on!" I ordered, trying to act as angry as I could. Actually, I was kind of glad that she was out of it, and hadn't seen the show. That cunt already had enough ideas as it was, without watching some freak show, and getting some more.
"Ohhh, Johnny," she wailed. "Don' be mad at little Wanda. I didn' do nuthin' wrong. Just blew a lil' grass is all." Seeing that my expression didn't change, she pouted again, then giggled.
I started working my way through the gang of people, trying to balance Wanda at the same time. She wasn't helping much. If I let go of her, she would drop like a bucket of shit out a sixth story window; all over everywhere. Just then I saw J.B. bearing down on us. His smile, ever present, radiated like a North wind in the middle of January. There was something about that guy that I just didn't dig.
"Well, well, Mr. Bartley. Seems we have a casualty. Perhaps it would be better if the young lady could rest for a while? I would be glad to offer one of my rooms. The maid could give her a hand." His toothy beam graced us both.
"Thanks a lot, but I better get her home."
"Please! I insist. After all, this is the first time I have had an opportunity to meet such a famous personality as yourself. I certainly would regret your leaving so soon."
His smile was still there, but it was enough to chill a volcano. The guy had something up his sleeve. I didn't know what, but my nose was itching like crazy. Just then I noticed that Eddie and Pito had walked up behind him, and the look on Eddie's face indicated that he hadn't just happened to be passing by. I would have to be pretty fucking stupid not to realize that the 'Big Boy' had just politely given me an order. Might as well make the most of it I rationalized. Besides, the guy wasn't keeping me around just because the crud liked the way I sweated all over his carpet.
"Well," I said, doing my best to retain as much of my dignity as possible, under the circumstance. "That is kind of you. I would kind of hate to miss the rest of the show. I'm sure that what I've seen so far, especially from what I've heard, is only an appetizer." With that I smiled back at him just as hard as he was smiling at me. The crud!
Just then Wanda giggled. Her knees buckled, and she sagged against my chest. What the hell, I probably wouldn't have gotten her all the way to the car anyway. She was too far gone.
Reaching out with a pudgy hand, J.B. gripped her firmly under the arm, at the same time getting a nice feel of her big boobs, and with the other hand motioned to someone standing nearby. A neatly dressed Black girl, complete with miniskirted uniform, hurried forward. The white blouse she wore showed that she wasn't wearing a bra underneath. Why did Wanda have to be so knocked out, I thought to myself? My rod was almost throbbing. The combination of the redhead, the show, and the taut, dark nipples I could clearly see under the white, nylon blouse were really effective as an aphrodisiac.
"Janet," J.B. bubbled. "Help Mr. Bartley put the young lady in one of the guest room." The dark girl only nodded her head, taking hold of the arm J.B. had.
"Mr. Bartley! After seeing your young lady comfortably situated, I would like the opportunity to talk with you. Would you be so kind as to oblige me?" Smiling dazzlingly, he turned, and without waiting for me to answer, walked away. Damn him. That was the rub with someone who had a lot of loot. They just took every fucking thing for granted. They farted; someone else sniffed. They shit; someone else wiped. Fuck him!
But, even as I helped drag Wanda off, I knew that I would do as I had been told. J.B. just wasn't the kind of rat you crossed lightly. Not, that was, if you liked having your head in one piece.
Janet, the dark girl, was quite strong, and it didn't take us long before we had Wanda in a room opening off a long corridor that I hadn't noticed before. Once in the room, we dropped our burden on the bed. Wanda fell heavily; her big tits flopping. She just giggled, looking into the nothingness of the ceiling. Wanda could have been on the moon right then as far as I was concerned. She was so far out of it that she really didn't even recognize me. Or, at least that was what I thought.
The room was tastefully furnished. Everything in it reeked of money. The carpets were antiques; deep, lush, elegant. The furnishings were right out of a designer's fantasy; everything perfectly balanced. What else had I expected. The guy was loaded.
"Thanks," I said sincerely to Janet. Her tits hadn't moved much when she had bent over to lay Wanda on the bed. They were large, firm, lovely.
"My pleasure, sir," she replied, smiling graciously. I liked the way this chick smiled. Kind of made me all warm inside. She didn't hurry to leave, and naturally I gave her the once over. She was really some kid. Stacked. Short, but with all the pieces in the right places. My dingus was getting up.
Janet saw my appraising glance, and made no effort to hide herself from me. She stood, like a prize bitch at a dog show, feeling my eyes rove over her finer points. Shit! She was really built.
On the bed, Wanda was out cold. She breathed heavily; occasionally giggling, even in her narcotic stupor. I could just imagine what she was dreaming about.
Janet made no move to leave. She just stood there. I saw that she pulled her shoulders a little more erect. The effect of thrusting her tits out at me really turned me on.
"Where you from?" I asked casually, trying to decide just how far out Wanda was. Man, she would really flip if she came out of it and found me balling some burnt toast.
"Here and there. Does it matter?"
Janet's answer was flippant. Not at all the posture of a humble serving wench.
"Not really," I answered nonchalantly. Fuck her. Who the fuck did she think she was anyway? Just another cunt, that was all. But her attitude bugged me. "Just conversation. Well, anyway. Thanks again for the help, although I guess it was just part of the job." I hoped she dug the dig.
"If I want it to be," she answered stiffly. She had.
"And if you don't?" I was charging right in.
"Then I would let you whip it to me. That's what you want isn't it? To get my legs open?"
Her frankness really stunned me. She wasn't playing the bit right at all. What the hell was going on here anyway? I'm the one supposed to be pitching. She was supposed to catch. Man, I had to straighten this chick out right away.
"Ha! You kiddin'? What would I want with you?" Indicating the stoned Wanda, I sarcastically continued. "That's all the pussy any cat can take care of."
"When she's with it, baby," Janet smiled. "But she ain't with it, is she?" Her smile had changed to a wicked grin. She had dug the dig, and was handing back more than she got. Man, this chick was really up front.
"So?" I replied defensively. My voice was scratchy. This cunt had me off balance. Things just weren't going the way they were supposed to at all. Everything was all wrong.
"So? So, you got a starched bone, that's so. You would really dig putting it between my legs, that's so. You think I can't see that pole of yours all bunched up?" Her eyes twinkled.
I glanced at Wanda. She breathed evenly.
Janet moved toward me. Smoothly, gracefully like a gazelle. Man was this chick ever with it. My dick must have been jutting out of my pants a good two inches. It felt like a mile. Keerist! Was I ever hot.
"Well?"
"Well what?" I asked, my voice choking. Man her tits were inviting. I wanted to lick them; tease them, suck them, taste them. Oh, but was my dick ever hard.
"You gonna fuck me or not?"
Just like that. Bang! Right out front. She was still smiling but her voice betrayed exasperation. She must have thought I was some kind of a real dumb shit. Hell. The broad did everything but blow me. Still I had to stand ' there like an idiot, and ask her "what."
"I ... that is : ... sure, er...." I stammered. I glanced at Wanda again. Still out.
"Forget her. She'll be gone for another three, four hours."
Janet moved closer. My dong tried to reach out for her. It couldn't make it. She could. She reached for it, grabbing the head. I groaned. What a broad.
Reaching for her, I grabbed her tits. Just as I had thought, they were big, hard, full, and all hers. I squeezed them. This time she moaned. She squeezed my dong again.
"Where?" I gasped.
"What's wrong with the floor? With the carpet on this one it'll be just like a bed."
I shook my head. Not the floor. She was right about the rug, but there was just something about fucking on a floor that bugged me. My roving gaze landed on a big, overstuffed, chair. Clearing my throat, I told her we'd do it there. She agreed.
Pushing her down in the chair, I leaned over and kissed her. She kissed back, at the same time unzipping my pants. My cock was soon out; rampant and willing. Man, what a hot cunt.
With her holding my meat, and still kissing her, I reached down and pushed her skirt up. It rode easily over her nylon encased legs, and her cunt was soon plainly exposed; the short bushy hairs glistening wetly. She had no panties on underneath. That fit.
She broke away from my lips. "Come inside me with that big thing," she breathed. "I want you. I want to feel you fucking the hairs off my pussy." She undulated herself down in the chair until her pelvis was pointed directly at my waiting cock.
I lowered myself to her. My knees touched the front of the cushion. Her legs were draped over the arms of the chair. My cock throbbed. Her pussy raised to me. My heart pounded. Her breath was hot on my cheek. My eyes went to Wanda. Janet's pussy touched the head of my dick. I groaned. Janet wrapped her legs around me. My cock sank wetly into her. She sighed. My eyes closed.
She felt good. Hot, wet, deep. I settled into her solidly, and began to pump rhythmically in and out of her. She was good. I felt wonderful. Out of sight. Cool; but hot. Dig it?
Janet sighed contentedly in my ear. Man was she some kind of good fucking. I glanced again at the dormant Wanda. Still way out in left field. Too bad about that. Shit, man. I wouldn't have been doing this in the first place if she hadn't gotten so fucking blasted out of her cork. I mean, like, if she had just gotten a little bit high, that would have been a groove. But outa' sight? Too much baby!
Janet's legs wrapped themselves around me tightly. I could feel the muscles of her cunt milking me. Man, it felt great. I plunged ever deeper into her. The image of the huge Black fucking the petite little brunette flashed before my eyes. I lunged into her furiously. She grunted.
Faster and faster I fucked her. She was bucking and bouncing in heat now. I could tell that she would start coming any second then. But of course, that was always the way it was with cunt. You just poured the coal to them, and ... zingo ... they went off like a rocket. Of course, sometimes some asshole comes out with some kind of cock-and-bullshit about it not being that way with broads. But don't you believe them baby. They all like it. If s just that some of them like it better than others.
Janet was overcome. She thrust her tongue into my ear wetly. It almost got me off. I pumped into her frantically. The harder I shoved it in her, the wider she opened her legs. I could feel my balls slapping against the cheeks of her ass. It was pure heaven. I knew that I would shoot off in her any minute now. She was one of the greatest fucks I had ever had. Of course, after all the excitement of that night, any pussy would have felt good. I fucked happily away.
Grabbing me about the shoulders, Janet humped up into me without reservation. She moaned loudly ... ecstatically. I felt my come rising up inside me. I was ready. I drove into it in a frenzy; long calculated strokes of pure pleasure. She was responding like an absolute nymph. It was the greatest.
I flooded her pussy with my come, pumping away wildly all the while. When at last the beautiful stars stopped exploding inside my fevered brain, I gasped one last, loud, long sigh. It was finished. I was finished.
Gradually she relaxed the blacksmith's grip she had on me. She over reacted a little when she reached up and quickly planted a hot, wet, sloppy kiss on my lips. She wasn't Wanda, but man you better believe she sure as hell made a good sub. Thinking of Wanda, I quickly glanced at her. She was still slumbering peacefully; blissfully ignorant. Don't get the idea for a second that she had been kidding about whacking it off if she ever caught me. She wasn't.
Returning Janet's kiss, I pulled my diminishing organ out of her. She stage-pouted a bit when I did. Then, brightening, she laughed that tinkling laugh of hers. I felt' good. Man, she was really some broad. Too bad I was so hung up on Wanda. I could have gone for her in a big way.
I patted her on the inside of the thigh. Her legs were still draped over the chair arms. Her pussy hairs were really glistening now. I had given her a pretty good fucking, if I did have to say so myself. As it turned out, I didn't.
"That was groovy!" Janet cooed.
"Yea! I thought so myself. Say, you're pretty good."
"So I've been told. You weren't exactly bad yourself."
"Thanks. Now that we've established our mutual admiration society, I guess maybe I'd better split. Suppose to see J.B."
Janet laughed that laugh again. I felt warm. Then when I saw the look on her face, I felt cold. There was something wrong. I didn't know what, but I had the definite feeling that I had just been had. She didn't waste anytime proving it.
"Oh you don't have to worry about that. J.B. been watchin' you ever since we come in here. See." With that, she pointed in the direction of a wall. On the wall was nothing but a large painting. Suddenly the painting moved. Behind it, grinning, was Eddie, Vito, and of course the ever smiling J.B. Also, there was another guy. He had a hand-held camera. I could just bet what the exposed film would look like.
"Well, well," baritoned J.B. "So we meet again Mr. Bartley."
Eddie and Vito snickered obscenely. I could just imagine what they had been saying while they watched me plugging Janet. The little bitch. It had all been a setup. Right from the word go. And me? I been too fucking dumb to even see what was going on.
"I do trust you enjoyed yourself Mr. Bartley? It appeared to me that Janet was more than adequately taking care of you. Any complaints?" His perpetual smile in place, he laughed uproarishly.
Eddie and Vito laughed even louder. The cameraman just smiled. What the fuck. I couldn't help liking that guy. He was a pro. Just like me. To him, this was just a job. Nothing more, nothing less. He was all right. I knew that his laughter was nothing more than an attempt to butter up the guy picking up the bag.
Nothing I could say. Nothing I could do. It was done, and for whatever the reason, I was in the bag. My reporter's curiosity burned to know the reason. Why had the "Big Boy" gone to so much trouble over a lousy police reporter like me? It just didn't make sense. The only thing that even connected us was Eddie. And certainly there was nothing between Eddie and I. Hey! Wait just a minute. Of course! The story. I had been so busy getting my ashes hauled, I had completely forgotten it. The only link. But how did the "Big Boy" figure in something like that? It just didn't figure.
"Leave us for awhile, Janet," the baritone boomed again, never loosing its hold on the fixed facial slit.
Janet had already gotten up from the chair and adjusted her miniskirt so her pussy wasn't showing. Now, nodding, she quickly walked toward the door, and was gone. Watching her cute little ass wiggle out the door didn't even cause a ripple. I hated a double-crossing cunt. Especially a smart ass double-crossing cunt. Janet was in on all counts.
After she was gone, and the laughter had died down, J. B., still smiling, of course, his ponderous frame dominating the entire room, spoke again.
"Now, Mr. Bartley. Naturally, the thing that bothers you the most about all this is ... Why? Am I right?"
The bastard was psychic. It was almost as if he had been looking inside my head. Frightening. Whatever else he might be, he was shrewd as hell. Best to treat him with care. I just nodded, waiting, a little more respectfully, for him to go on.
"Well of course I could say that it was just sort of a practical joke. But you're far too intelligent to believe that. Instead, I will confide in you the trusted truth. I trust that you are, after all, a man of the world. A connoisseur of, shall we say, the better things in life? That being so, you will immediately agree that one of the gross things about life is that it is so dull; even boring. Naturally all of us have, shall we say, our little diversions?"
He paused. It was obvious that he was waiting for me to acknowledge the truth of what he had already said. The bastard was good. He had made me feel ten feet tall, all in the same moment that he'd succeeded in making me feel about the size of a bug. No wonder he was the "Big Boy." My respect for him grew. I nodded.
"Good! Very good. I see that we shall get on famously. I knew we would. After all, us men of prominence have to stick together, don't we?"
The son-of-a-bitch was even better than I'd figured. Here I was getting the biggest snow job of the century, and I was actually eating it up. I got the feeling that some of the grass Wanda had smoked might have rubbed off on me. I even smiled back at the bastard.
"Quite frankly, Mr. Bartley, I am concerned about your interest in a rather odd series of events that have taken place in our fair city of late. I am, of course, referring to the, er, shall we call them seductions, of several men by quite lovely young ladies? Do you follow me?"
I knew it. It had to be. But I didn't know yet what the connection could possibly be between a guy like J.B. and some nutty broads running around busting good time Charlies.
Deciding to play chess with the guy, I nodded my head.
Only Eddie could have tipped him. I decided to play a quick gambit.
"Yea, Eddie told me that things were getting pretty ... shall I say ... hot?"
The smile disappeared from J.B.'s face only momentarily. The look of venom that he directed in Eddie's direction completely wiped any mirth from the big fellow's face. Eddie looked startled. Things were moving too fast for him, and it took a while for him to catch up. That little bit was all I needed. I hurried on.
"Of course, the guy who is really interested in these cases is Holloway. You know him? He's a flatfoot over at Central. Told me he's been casing Eddie for quite a while now. Eddie's a real good source, Holloway told me."
Put me on the spot would he? That ought to fix the motherfucker good. Let him try to wiggle his way out of that. I could just barely suppress my amusement. Eddie's face looked like some one had just told him there was no Santa Claus. I swear I thought the mug was gonna bust out crying any second.
"Honest!" screeched Eddie. "I ain't breathed a word. You gotta believe me boss! This guy's bull-shittin' you. He ain't got nothin'. Ya just gotta believe me. He's lyin' troo' his teeth ... which incidentally he ain't gonna have too long."
Looking daggers at me while he muttered that last, Eddie took a step in my direction; Vito close behind him. I took a step back. Eddie meant business. I was beginning to get a little worried. Maybe I overplayed my hand a little. Holloway wouldn't even be able to identify the body after these two goons got through if J.B. let them go to work on me.
"Very clever, Mr. Bartley," J.B.'s baritone boomed. I wondered if the guy wore a wig. His dark, wavy locks were just a little bit too perfect for a guy his age. Still, you never could tell.
Eddie and Vito pulled up short. Eddie cast a wooden look at his boss. The poor bastard wanted a piece of my ass so bad he could almost taste it. The only thing between me and being declared a manmade disaster area, was J.B. But he had all ready proven that he wasn't willing to take the chance that I just might be leveling with him. If, and right now that was a mighty big word, Holloway did know anything, and I turned up trying to ball a mermaid at the bottom of the East River, there would be hell to pay for sure. J.B. was a cautious man. That's why he was the boss and Eddie and Vito were just a couple of stumble bums.
"Very clever indeed," J.B. intoned again. He was eyeing me carefully now. His smile was gone. I almost didn't recognize him without his teeth.
"Don't know what's so clever about a cop checking something like that out. After all, that's his job. And as far as Eddie is concerned, he didn't exactly come right out and tell Holloway anything. The guy is sharp. Give him just a sniff of a clue, and he'll track it down to its owner."
I saw some of the hatred leave Eddie's burning eyes. I had decided that for right then at least, discretion was the better part of valor. It was best to kind of let Eddie off the hook a little. I didn't doubt that J.B. would chew his ass up one side and down the other anyway ... just for having had the two of their names connected together. Also, I knew that from this moment on, Eddie would be out to get me anyway he could.
"Precisely what is it your friend knows, Mr. Bartley?" J.B. asked coolly. He was lighting a five dollar cigar, at the same time eyeballing the shit out of me. I was still a long way from being outside. Better play it cool I decided. Just enough. This guy is way too sharp to be fucked around with.
"Gee, I don't know for sure. Just kind of asked a favor of me, that's all. Said something about the deal, asked me to ask around, especially at the 'Red Rose.' Said he had a lead that it might be connected somehow. Also," I lowered my voice and gaze at the same time, pausing before going on. "He asked me to sniff around and see what I could find about the ... er ... 'Big Boy.' Didn't say anything else. Really didn't make much sense to me."
J.B. digested this information slowly. I could almost see and hear the computer-like wheels spinning in his head. He looked all the more ominous behind the thick clouds of dark bluish smoke billowing up in front of his face from the burning cigar. I felt the sweat beginning to pop out all over me. If he didn't buy it, I would. The hard way. I heard Wanda giggle in her soporific stupor. Dumb broad. She was too fucking doped up to even know that she was just this far from doing the dance of the fishwives; at the source.
"Anything else?" J.B.'s baritone was flat, unreadable.
I took my time before answering. I had to make sure of my answer. If it was the wrong one, twenty questions was over. If it was the right one, I just might manage to write my byline for tomorrow's rag.
"Nope," I shook my head, after making a big show of studying his question hard. "Nothing. Look, I don't know what he had in mind, and I don't know what all this is about. Me? I'm just a hack reporter. I pound a typewriter, mooch a few free drinks on my Press Card, and beat the gate for most of the admission cash. The guy asks a favor, and I try to deliver. He's done me enough of them. In fact," again I paused, and tried to make my voice as mysterious as possible, at the same time hoping to slip in a hint of a threat. "I would probably have forgotten all about the whole deal if you hadn't made just such a big deal about it. Now, maybe I'm curious. Real curious."
J.B. smiled again. He appreciated a good move. The mother was sharp all right. But that smile told me that he had bought the deal. Hook, line, and sinker. He also cast an ominous glance in Eddie's direction. It was obvious that he would blame Eddie for steering him wrong. Right now I would have been willing to bet Wanda's pussy that he was thinking that I should never have been brought here in the first place. He was right too. Now I wouldn't budge off this caper until I had gotten to the bottom of it. But, like I said, J.B. was sharp. He'd thought of that too.
The mark of a real pro was on him. That mark is simple. When a real pro is backed into a wall ... he attacks ... with both barrels. Bam! Bam! Kick 'em in the ass. Grab 'em by the balls. Make 'em know they been fucking with a champ. That was J.B. Or, at least it had been. He didn't know it, but I had just spelled it with an "u." If he ever found out, I'd be a gone goose.
Like I said, J.B. was a pro. He attacked, and with both barrels. He came at me two ways; both designed to get me off his back, and keep me off. First, a good reason for getting off, then a bone to make sure I stayed off. Man, you just had to admire the dirty, no-good, cock-sucking motherfucker. I wished he had that cigar up his ass. But I smiled at him all the while. I even giggled to myself when I thought that he was probably thinking the same thing about me. Just to even things out Wanda giggled for both of us.
"May I remind you Mr. Bartley," J.B. smiled, "that curiosity is given credit for having dispatched the proverbial feline to the equally proverbial land of milk and honey. Odd about Proverbs, isn't it? How often they portray a universal truth."
He smiled.
I smiled back.
Eddie scowled and Vito just looked dumb. Wanda giggled.
"However, in the interest of preventing something quite simple from being blown into something of a mountain, I am prepared to let you have a certain amount of information. I trust," J.B. paused, making sure that I got the message, then went on. "That you will be suave enough about this to let it go at that."
Lumbering over to the chair that I had fucked Janet on, J.B. ceremoniously sat down. He motioned for me to sit too, and since the closest place was the bed, I perched on the edge. Wanda moaned slightly, stirred, then was still.
"To begin with, the, er, acts, shall we call them, are nothing more than the girlish pranks of a few young ladies who are more or less in my employ. The entire matter came to my attention rather casually. I was asked to keep the young ladies from becoming involved in something sordid, and since indirectly, it might involve me as their distant employer, I agreed. I can assure you that they have promised there will be no more of this foolishness."
J.B. eyed me carefully, his smile firmly in place. Believing that I was eating it up, he went on.
"After all, Mr. Bartley, no real harm has been done. The girls at worst, only startled a few gentlemen. At best, they might have made a few poor souls quite, quite happy. Don't you agree?"
With this much I truthfully had to agree. The girls had indeed I was sure made a couple of guys pretty delighted. Even the ones like Mr. Purdy. I nodded my head in honest agreement. J.B. beamed. I smiled back, hoping that he was sitting on a wad of come. The bastard was hiding something, and it was big. I knew it. He just wasn't the philanthropic type. About the only altruistic thing he had ever done in his life was have his boys hand out free booze the day of the election to the bums on the Bowery. He probably even watered that down. I smiled broadly. Eddie continued to scowl and Vito kept on looking stupid. Good ol' Wanda giggled again. Man she must be dreaming about a whole army of cocks. The bitch.
"I am quite pleased to see we have a meeting of the minds," J.B. said. "You may of course tell your friend the basic facts that you have uncovered, thus 'delivering' on the favor he asked of you. You will, of course, do me the favor of forgetting where you got the information, or any names connected with it." He smiled happily again. He was without a doubt the smilingest dude I'd ever seen before in my life. Maybe they indicated gas pains. That made me happy.
"You won't need to look any further. To make sure, you need only remember the film we shot tonight. I'm quite sure the young lady," he indicated sleeping Wanda, "would be most interested. Also, your boss. Janet's husband would no doubt be interested too. That was him you saw on stage tonight." J.B. smiled broadly.
The thought of the Black giant coming after me with his singing bullwhip sent a shiver of dread racing through my body. I could still see the crimson streaks on the brunette. I swallowed hard. Yep. J.B. was a pro all right. Both barrels. Bam! Bam! Ouch!
Now, gentle reader, if I had been smart I would have let it go at that. I would have packed up my cute little bundle of pussy. I would have bid J.B. goodnight. I would have gotten the fuck out of there and never thought about coming back. I would have gone to Holloway with J.B.'s bullshit. I. would have sold him on it. Then, I would have forgotten all about it. I would have enough to keep me busy chasing ambulances. I would have even gotten Eddie a couple of ringside seats in the interrogation room down at headquarters. That would go over big with him. His beady eyes glistening hotly as he listened to the truncheons fall flashed across my mind.
That, gentle reader, is what I would have done if I had been smart. But that's one thing I've never been accused of. Being smart. Not me! That's why I had been made a reporter.
"Then we understand each other?" J.B. purred, his fat face oozing confidence. Keerist! How I hated that motherfucker. But, you just had to admire him.
"We understand each other," I echoed.
J.B. beamed radiantly.
I smiled knowingly.
Eddie scowled threateningly.
Vito looked stupid, easily.
Wanda farted, noisily.
CHAPTER FOUR - THEY STRIKE AGAIN
The jangling bell woke me. I groped for the telephone. Who the fuck would be calling me this early in the morning. A place in the sun, if I could answer just one easy question, most likely. Bullshit! Why couldn't they let a guy rest.
"'lo," I finally managed to mumble into the receiver.
"Bartley?" the voice screamed. "Where the fuck are you? Why aren't you working? How in the hell did I ever get stuck with a lousy no good son-of-a-bitch like you anyway?"
It was my greatest fan. My city Editor. He only screamed at me like that because he still suspected that I was the one who had slipped the turpentine in his box of rubbers at the Christmas party.
Man, you should have seen him jumping up and down. He was hollering so loud everyone in the building could hear. The composing room broad he'd been getting ready to pork had been so startled that all she could do was lay there. Her dress up, legs open. What a blast! Good 'ol George. Always good for a laugh.
"Slow slolly! Long numba,'" I mimicked, then hung up.
Groggily I fumbled for my watch on the nightstand. Squinting at it, I shook it to make sure it was running.
One o'clock. Shit! I had really overslept. No wonder the guy was yelling.
The phone began ringing again. I knew it would be George. I just ignored it. Lighting a cigarette, I waited until he finally gave up. Running over a list of plausible excuses of why I was late, I discarded most. I had already used them. Fuck it. I would think, or try to, of something on the way in.
Stubbing out the foul tasting fag, I crawled out of the rumpled bed. As usual, Wanda snoozed away. The noise hadn't disturbed her. Nothing disturbed Wanda. She could sleep through an earthquake.
Stumbling into the bathroom, I adjusted the shower. Soon I was toweling off. As I shaved, I let my mind run over the events of the night before.
With Janet's help, I had gotten Wanda down to the car. Eddie had glared at me when we'd left. That boy really wanted a piece of my tail. I suppose J.B. had returned to the party. When we had left, the band had been playing again. Several couples could be seen heading for various rooms however, and I doubted that much else would happen of interest that night.
When we had gotten back to my place, I had put Wanda to bed, then called Holloway. He had been out. I started to have him call me. Thinking better of it, I just hung up. I was tired, and the whole fucking mess would have to wait until the morning. My poor, tired, overworked, underpaid brain needed rest. Snuggling up to Wanda, I had drifted off.
Somewhere along the way, I had had visions of the Black giant chasing me through the streets. I was stark naked. At each corner his whip would catch me across the ass. That always would get a big laugh out of Eddie, who was always standing on the corner. J.B. was there too. Smiling broadly.
Coming out of the bathroom I saw that Wanda was beginning to stir. The covers fell away from her. The sight of her naked body set off a chain reaction. It ended with me between her legs, pumping merrily away. She purred happily in my ear.
Man did that chick ever love to fuck. The more I poured the meat to her, the more she wanted. Just feeling her milking my bone with those pussy muscles of hers ... Wow! I shot my load deep in her cunt in several quick, short bursts. Raising up on my arms, I looked down at her. She pouted, complaining that it had been too fast, and making noises like she wanted some more. Glancing at my watch, I saw that it was already a quarter 'til two. Man I had to get a hustle on.
Planting a wet kiss on her pouting lips I pulled out of her. Apologizing for having to fuck and run I redeemed myself by promising to be back as soon as I could. Certainly before she had to go to work. That seemed to mollify her. Besides, I wasn't too sure that I even wanted her to go back to the "Red Rose." Not with the way Eddie was feeling about me. There was always the outside chance the creep might try to take it out on Wanda.
Wiping my dick on the wet towel, I began dressing. Five minutes later I stood by the bed. Wanda had already started dozing again. That broad loved only three things in life. Sleep, fucking, and grass. And, not necessarily in that order either. Bending over, I pecked her on the cheek, then split.
Bailing my heap out of the garage, I headed for the office. On the way, I called several of my contacts, managing to get enough information to prove I'd been working my ass off all morning. I knew George wouldn't believe a word of it, but at least he would appreciate my having made the effort. I wondered how long it would be before he forgot about what I had done to him at the Christmas party? I hoped it would be before the next party, since I already had a swell gag worked out for that one.
A load of saltpeter for him, and Spanish-fly for the chick. Out of sight baby. It would be like trying to cram a hand full of wet spaghetti up a wildcat's ass. Wild! Poor George. But at least he could be glad that I really liked him way down deep. Just think how it would be if I didn't even like the guy. Crazy man.
I decided that it would be much easier if I parked the car outside the newspaper's garage. I always hated to awaken the attendants when I wanted to get the heap back. Besides, I planned to call Holloway right away. He would be very interested in what I had unearthed.
Going up in the elevator I was attracted to a really gorgeous hunk of fluff that got on at the third floor. That meant she worked for the paper. Third floor? That was advertising. I made a mental note to check her out. As I got off on the seventh, I casually patted her on the fanny. She giggled. It was going to be a great day.
The two amber glows that burned out at me from what was laughingly referred to as George's face told me that it wasn't going to be a great day. I wondered if some fink had clued him in for sure that I had been responsible for the yuletide fiasco? If so, most likely George would be a little uptight. He was like that. Emotional.
"You chicken-shit bastard," George hissed affectionately. Like I said, emotional as all hell. "What's the idea of hanging up on me like that? And what's with the phony Chinese accent? Where the hell you been? Where's your copy for the first edition? Why does Holloway want to talk to you? What you been up to? What the hell's wrong with you? Why don't you answer me? Well?"
That's the way it is with George. I figure it for a case of arrested development. Questions! Nothing but questions, questions, and more questions. But, that's the way it is with those emotional types. Never can seem to make up their mind.
I was both glad and surprised to hear that Holloway had been trying to reach me. I wondered why he hadn't called me at home. He had the number. Maybe that second call hadn't been from George after all. What the hell. I decided to tell George the truth.
"What are you talking about? What Chinese accent? What hanging up? Who's Holloway? You feeling all right, George?"
George just trembled. He always got this way when his time of the month came around. Poor guy! I guess I really should take it easy on him. But I was in a hurry. Dropping the notes I'd scribbled earlier into the litter basket he used for a desk, I headed for my own. George was so happy to see me tears began trickling down his cheeks. Poor fellow. Just too emotional, that's all.
"Bartley!" he screamed, his arm upraised, fist clinched. "You sonofabitch, come back here."
Turning, I shouted, "can't chief. Gotta' call. Big story. Looks like Civil War in Switzerland! There's a rumor the Mayor is going to resign to become a social director in the Catskills. The Amalgamated Babysitters Union is set to go out at midnight, and the Telephone Company has agreed to negotiate a settlement with that widow about that dime she lost in the coin box. Big day, Chief! It's all in my notes. I put them on your desk."
George stopped trembling, the water works stopped, and some of the red puffiness went out of his face. He made a grab for the scraps of paper I'd tossed in front of him. I knew it would take him a while to sort them out from the rest of the garbage. Just in time for me to call Holloway.
I picked up the phone. Hooray! It was going to be a great day. I got a dial tone. Quickly, before it changed its mind, I dialed nine, then Holloway's private number. Soon, his mellow voice caressed my ear-pipes. "Holloway!" he boomed.
"And a pleasant good morning to you too. This's Bartley. What's up?"
"Oh. Hi Johnny. We got another one. This time the guy's in Bellevue. Weirdo Ward. Put him right around the bend. The shrinks thought he was just out of it for a while, but he finally convinced them that it was on the level. Called me about an hour ago. You interested?"
"Groovy, man. All the way. Got some hot stuff for you too. Picked up some real steam last night. No less that the 'Big Boy' himself. Looks like somethin' big, Holly 'ol pal."
There was silence on the other end. Then, in a strained voice, Holloway whined, "You been smoking that stuff again, Johnny?"
Just like 'ol Holly. Always good for a laugh. Frustrated comedian. That's what he is. George is emotional; Holloway's a funny man. Oh well, it takes all kinds to make up the world. Glancing in George's direction, I realized I had to hurry.
"Very funny, flatfoot," I opined. "Look! I gotta' scat. Meet me at the Mud factory. Bye now!"
I hung up. George was a slow reader, but by now it should have dawned on even him that that shit I had handed him wasn't even good for a filler. I didn't run for the elevators. I just sorta' walked kind of fast.
"Baart ... tleyyy!" I heard George's gentle voice. By then the elevator was there. I stepped in. "You cock-sue...." but I didn't hear the rest because the door closed, and I was safely on my way.
The Mud factory was a little coffeehouse on Second Avenue just off 19th Street. Their coffee was the reason for the nickname. But the cute little Polish broad that served it was outa' sight. She had a pair of knockers on her that would have qualified her for "Miss Watermelon." Holly denied it, but I was sure he was pronging her. Personally, my only gripe was that I wasn't.
Olga was rapping with Holly in a back booth when I came in. The tight, nylon uniform her boss supplied just wasn't big enough. Man, she had one of the most picturesque behinds of any chick around. If Holly wasn't banging that, he oughta' be arrested for stupidity above and beyond the call of duty. I thought of Wanda. My dong thought of Wanda.
"Si' down. Mud?" Holly asked.
"Naw. Let's roll. George is having his period again, and I think he's gonna' flip out. Better turn something soon or the poor slob is liable to hemorrhage."
Nodding solemnly, Holly dropped a metal Washington on the table for Olga. Patting her on the ass, he led the way out. The sun was bright. We both blinked. We headed toward Holly's squad car. We always took that when we were together. Easier to get through traffic.
Swinging over to First Avenue, Holly headed uptown. He turned on the bubble-gum machine. Like all good New York drivers, they ignored it. As far as they were concerned, Holly and his red light could just wait their turn. It was less than a mile to the hospital, and with the help of the rotating beacon, we made it in a little over twenty minutes. Which just goes to show that the Mayor's new traffic control program was working wonders.
"Gotta' pass?" the private guard growled.
Holly flashed his ducat, accepted the sneer from the civilian in uniform, and headed for the Funny Farm Floor. Getting off, we had to show identification again, and finally found ourselves peering through thick, mesh wiring. A burley attendant, in white coat and pants, eyed us suspiciously.
"Dr. Rubin," Holly said, using his official tone.
"He 'spectin' you?" the attendant tossed back.
Holly nodded. I smiled. The attendant thought. I could tell he was thinking from the way his eyes kept crossing. Revving up his brain to full power, he managed to remember what button to push.
"Cup'pa' guy'z t' shee ya' doc," he intoned in flawless Brooklynese. "Ya' 'spectin' 'em?"
"Yes I am, Dom. Show the gentlemen into my office," a metallic voice came back over the intercom.
Having received the word direct from the All Mighty, Dom nodded his head puppet-like. The chair groaned as Dom lifted his three hundred pound hulk and rolled toward the gate. He banged a heavy brass key into a lock, and the big wire mesh gate swung creakingly open.
"Doc shayzz it's O.K." Dom confirmed moronically, nodding his head in time with his words. "Dis' way."
Holly and I stepped over the threshold, heard the door clank shut behind us, then waited for Dom to catch up. His scraggy head flopping from side to side, he resembled an overgrown Saint Bernard. He smelled a little like one too. I couldn't resist.
"When you taking the exams?"
"Huh?" Dom answered thoroughly confused.
"Exams? You know, for your Doctor's license."
Holly shot me a hard look. Fuck him. On second thought, he wasn't built right. I smiled at Dom.
"Huh?" Dom repeated. I guess maybe his needle was stuck.
"You're one of the Interns' aren't you?"
"Nawww," he blushed, hanging his shaggy head. Honest to Pete the silly mother blushed. Bright red. "I'm jest 'un of de' guyzz. A-tend-dant! Dats whut I'm." His face got redder than Holly's no good bubble-gum machine. I almost pissed in my pants. I could feel Holly's eyes boring into me.
"Really? Aww, come on. You're puttin' me on. Honest? You're not one of the doc's?" I shook my head in mock disbelief. "I'd of sworn you were the Head Shrink's Chief Assistant."
"Honestly, Johnny! Cut the crap," Holly snapped.
Dom frowned. He looked from Holly to me. Holly scowled. I smiled. Dom decided that he liked me; not Holly. His face got even redder, he shuffled his feet.
"Nawww! I jest an A-tend-dant. 'oness? Ya' tink I wuz a doc?"
"Sure!" I stared back solemnly. "One of the top."
"Gee!" Dom eloquently proclaimed. As far as he was concerned all elections were crooked. Otherwise, I'd be the Mayor.
Casting a disgusted look in my direction, Holly started off down the corridor without waiting for us. Shrugging, I followed. Dom, forgetting for the moment that he was supposed to lead the way, brought up the rear.
I liked Holly. Sincerely. A big man, over six feet, he was ruggedly handsome. His light blond hair had a slight wave to it. His features were clean cut and even. His light blue eyes sparkled with mirth ... usually. But, alas, like all us mortals, Holly had his failings. His sense of humor was more than lacking. But his big, redeeming feature was that he was a good cop. An honest one at that. Really!
One evening when he had dropped in on a bash at my pad, he had even threatened to bust Wanda for blowing grass. Wanda, giggling, had offered to blow him instead. 'Ol Holly had gotten pretty uptight about that, and split. Hell, as long as it was Holly, I wouldn't have minded a bit. But, that was the way Holly was.
Down the corridor, a man in a white smock stepped toward us. Smiling, he extended a well-manicured hand to Holly.
"Detective Holloway? I'm Doctor Rubin."
"Hi. Nice of you to call us. Ya' got the guy handy?"
"Yes. We thought it best to isolate him until after you had spoken to him. To tell the truth officer, we still aren't sure if he is telling the truth. One of the damnedest things I've ever heard. But, he wouldn't stop raving until we called you ... so...." he trailed off. Giving me an inquiring glance, he waited.
"Right. This is John Bartley. He's a reporter. Been helping me with the case we are working on. Hope you don't mind."
"Not at all. Always glad to entertain members of the press. After all, they shape public opinion, and we do get our appropriations from the City and State. Ha, ha!" He smiled at me.
I smiled back at him. This is the smilingest fucking book I've ever seen. No wonder the Russians think we're nuts. Meanwhile, Dom smiled at everybody, scratched his ass, and ambled back to his desk. I had noticed that hearing that I was a member of the Fourth Estate had impressed him even more. I wouldn't be a bit surprised if he called the Board of Examiners that very afternoon and demanded an application. 'On the job training,' you know.
Doctor Rubin led the way. We entered a small cubicle of a room. The walls were padded. Except for a bed, it was bare. I noted that the metal frame of the bed was also padded. A single light provided the only illumination. A man sat on the bed, his knees drawn up under his chin.
As we came in he looked at us. His eyes were wide. He had more red lines in them than a New York City Budget. He had a two day growth of stubble on his face. He was in a straight-jacket. His hair was rumpled, and the wild gleam in his eyes made me glad he couldn't move around too freely. A bit of spittle had accumulated at one corner of his mouth. I couldn't help wondering what in the hell we were doing trying to talk to a psycho like this.
"Mr. Collins. These gentlemen are from the Police and the Press. Just like we promised. They are here to talk to you; to let you tell your story. Do you feel like talking to them?"
The Doctor's voice was calm, almost a monotone. The man's bloodshot eyes followed his lips diligently. Finally he nodded his head, turning his piercing gaze in our direction. I wished I was back having a nice, quiet, intellectual discussion with Dom.
Turning to Holly, the doctor indicated the edge of the bed. Without hesitation, Holly sat down. I preferred to stand. The doctor took up a position near the door. We all looked at the man on the bed. Holly cleared his throat.
"Well, Mr. Collins. I understand you wanted to talk to us. We are very much interested in what you have to say."
The wild man just stared at Holly.
"It's all right, Mr. Collins," Doctor Rubin's soothing voice intoned. "You can speak freely. No one is going to hurt you. Just tell the officer what you told us."
"He ain't gonna' believe me."
The man's voice was just barely audible. It was a deep voice, although devoid of feeling or emotion. This cat was really way out. Only his burning eyes showed sensibility.
"Try me," replied Holly evenly.
Collins just stared at him. Gradually the burning intensity diminished. He let out a loud sigh.
"It's weird, baby, weird. Even I have trouble believing it, and hell man, it happened to me." He paused, studying Holly's face intently for some sign. Holly's expression never changed.
"Try me," Holly repeated again, his voice betraying nothing. Like I said, Holly was a good cop. A real pro. Is it any wonder that I liked and respected the damn guy? Holly just waited.
Sighing, Collins began mumbling out his story. Believe me it was one of the weirdest things I have ever heard. This cat was born under the proverbial Hex; with a double capital H. Man like black cats didn't cross his path; they followed it.
"Got a fag?" Collins asked.
Holly looked in the doc's direction. He nodded. Pulling a pack from his pocket, Holly lit up, then held the weed so that Collins could take a drag. He pulled hard on it, let the smoke go deep into his lungs, then slowly exhaled. It almost made him relax. At least his eyes closed for a second. It was almost as if someone had turned off a blast furnace when he did.
"I'll have to start at the beginning. If I don't, none of it makes any sense. It makes it look like I'm a real kook! Something like the last thing isn't enough to push a guy over the hill by itself. But put it all together, and like man...." he trailed off.
Collins leaned forward and drug deeply on the cigarette again. This time he let smoke out through his nose. He was getting calmer. I began to wonder if maybe Holly wasn't holding out on me. Maybe that grass bit had been an act. I sniffed the air. Nothing.
"I been making it with this chick, see. Like she's around twenty-one, two, like that. She's kinda' kooky herself. Gotta' play with her cunt a lot before you can put the pole to her. Like, she digs it man. Guess she spent too much time whompin' her pud, alone. Anyway, she'd like that. Name's Bobbi. Tall, nice chick."
Collins let his mind drift on into fond memories. His voice trailed off. Holly thrust the fag forward again. He puffed on it, then went on with his story.
"Anyway, after this chick blows her bricks she's like ice. Real Frigadairesville. Don't want nothin' to do with a guy. Just like that. Only wants to sit in that damned apartment of hers and play with her cat."
"Well, it don't take me long before I get pretty tired of that shit. I been making it with a couple other birds, kinda' on the side. You dig? One of them, Aily, is just sort of a lay. Nothin' personal, you understand? The other, Kim, is a really groovy bird. Short, nice, stacked like a brick you-know-what. Man, that body of hers is somethin' else. Just looking at it gave me a hard-on. But she's a screwy bird. Like, she digs Yoga, and all that shit.
"Anyway. One night me and Bobbie, we have this real big rap session. I just can't dig her coldness no more. It's like snuggling up to an iceberg after balling her. Nothing else. Blank."
"So, I call Kim. She says she's cool. I make it for that night. We make the whole bit; dinner, drinks, groovy place, then back to the pad for what makes the girl go round. Dig?"
He paused. Holly nodded, holding the cigarette out for him again. Collins puffed away. It was almost gone. I noticed that Collin's voice is starting to raise a bit. His peeper's are getting even wilder. So far nothing he's said makes much sense; at least not enough to push him around the bend. I started to lose interest. To kill time, I looked around the room. Just the average, ordinary, middle-class padded cell.
"You gotta' unnerstan' man. Like, Bobbi and me been makin' it pretty straight. I ain't really gettin' much stuff on the side. Just once in a while with Aily and Kim. It's been a long time. The night Bobbi and I have our beef, I don't ball her at all. I got it bad though. Like granite man. Stones, even."
"Like I said, Kim is outa' sight. She's got a pair of tits on her that ... Uuummmm. ... Wow!" Collins bounced on the bed happily. My ears perked up.
"And, that ain't all. Not only the big boobs, but her legs are perfect. She's petite, compact, and definitely built for speed. I balled her before. Not too much, but enough to dig it good. She's tight man. So tight that it always took a good five minutes just to get the head in her. She'd cry. She'd beg. She'd plead. But man, once I poured the meat to her, she'd just turn into one hundred percent wildcat. Scratched the shit out of me."
A look of nostalgic reflection crossed his face. Collins just sat there. Lost in a cryptamnesia known only to him. After waiting for what seemed like a long time, Holly prompted him.
"Go on Mr. Collins. I assume there is more?"
"Yea! Yea, man. There's more. Lot's more. Anyway, like I'm sayin', Bobbi and me split. Hot! That's me. I make for the score with Kim. We go the route. Back to my pad. I'm lovin' her up real good. Playin' with her big tits; kissin' the inside of her thighs. Got a hard-on like a club. I'm ready. Been pouring the hooch in Kim. She's kinda' loaded. I get her blouse off. Oh, baby, what a pair of knockers that broad's got...." again trailing off. This time he snapped back immediately.
"Like I tol' ya'. She's kinda' nutty. Yoga, an' all that shit. There I am man. A hard-on like the Washington Monument; one of the most delicious chicks in the city, half stripped down. I'm pantin' like crazy. I push her over on the bed. She started to cry. I figure she's gonna' really put on this time. Instead she starts to wail like crazy; screaming, hollering, going ape."
"I stopped. I asked her what was wong ... er, I mean wrog ... er, I mean wrong, damn it. Every time I think about that night I almost go off my nut. She looked at me with those big blue glimmers of hers. Those enormous boobs were pointed right at me. I was almost out of my cork. Shit! Sweet, delicious, Shit!"
"She looks at me. 'Baby,' she says. 'I can't!' "
"'Why?' I asks. 'My Spiritual Mother says I can't fuck no more', she wails. I'm stunned. I can't believe my ears. I just look at the broad. Me! With a hard-on the size of a bowling pin, and she's handing me some kinda' Yoga shit about her Spiritual Mother saying she can't amortize no more. Christ! I got sick. I wanted to puke!"
Collins's voice was getting louder and louder. I eased toward the door. I hadda' admit the guy had gotten a bum deal, but after all, you didn't climb down outa' your tree just because some bird decided she didn't want to put out. Not even two in a row.
"I'm laying on the floor. I got stones. Man, do I hurt. The cunt is wailin', bawlin', raisin' hell. She's apologizing all over the place. Lots of good that does me. My pecker's throbbing like someone dropped an anvil on it, and all she can say is that her Spiritual Mother says she can't ball no more if she wants to expand her personality. Expand her personality!! I'd expand her if I coulda' just got my pole in her. Shit! Holy Cow Shit!"
"Then the guy next door starts bangin' on the wall. Threatens to call the cops. The broad's still making with the salt water, and my dong's still aching. I tell the cunt to get the fuck outa' there, and don't never come back. She's still cryin' when she gets dressed and splits."
"Man, what a night. First Bobbi, then Kim. And still no pussy. Do you know what I mean, man?"
Holly looked at the guy with sympathy. He knew what he was rapping about. I could tell. I knew too, although thank goodness I hadn't had to find out too often. The look on Doc's face indicated that he knew what the guy was about too. We all did. But that still didn't underscore the reason for the loony bit. Holly must have been reading my mind.
"Yes, Mr. Collins. I understand. But what has that to do with what happened later, or for that matter, why you are here?" Putting the fag out on the floor, Holly went on. "Mr. Collins. I'm sure that the two incidents were traumatic. But surely you aren't the first man, nor the last, to have something like that happen to him. Now come on man. Tell us what else happened that could have been bad enough to put you here. There is more isn't there?"
Collins nodded his head frantically. "Yea, man. There's more. Like I said. Lots more. I'm only beginning. But like I tol' you. I gotta' start at the beginning, or none of the rest makes any sense either. You just gotta' be patient man. Give me time. OK?"
Holly nodded his head in agreement. Even I began to get interested a little. The guy had had a rough time of it, and if there was even more, then maybe there might be something here after all.
"Well, anyway, I bombed with Bobbi, with Kim, and I'm laying on the floor in pain. Then I remember Aily. Great kid. Just great. And in the sack? Outa' sight, dad. Outa' sight. She loves to fuck the way some people love to eat. And she's always ready too. So, naturally, I calls her up right away. I done that before too, and she always came right over. This wasn't any exception. She lives right in the same building. I calls, and she comes right over. When she gets there, she's dressed fit to kill. Man, and am I ready."
"But she decides that she wasn't ready right then. She says she has to have a drink first. O K! So, I already plied the other broad with booze, might as well take the time and do the same for Aily. After all, I don't want to act like a pig. Right?"
Everyone nodded. Even Doc was interested. Apparently he had heard the story before, but it was not the usual kind. He could hear it again. The plot thickened.
"Like I said before. I balled Aily plenty before. In fact, she's even showed up at my place in the middle of the night, wanting me to put the blocks to her. Me. I do the best I can. So, natch I don't expect no trouble from her. Not from good ol' Aily. Shit, was I in for a surprise."
"I feed Aily the booze. Not cheap stuff neither. The best. Then this silly broad gets on a crying jag. Says I don't appreciate her as a woman. Says the only thing I'm interested in is getting between her legs. Says she's found a guy that really loves her and is interested in more than just her box. Shit! It's a fucking conspiracy, that's what. First Bobbi; then Kim; now Aily."
"Then Aily get up, dumps a drink on me, and tells me if I wanna' get laid, I can lay my fist. Can you imagine that? She even insults me. Wow! And after all I've done for the chick. A conspiracy. That's what it was."
Collins's voice had risen steadily. Now, almost exhausted, he stopped for breath. He was heaving. Even I had to admit that the guy had certainly had a rough time of it. Holly lit another fag, and the Doc even went so far as to undo one of his arms so he could smoke it without Holly's help. After he'd gotten hold of himself, Collins continued. I was all ears.
"So, I make a buck on the side by writing fuck books. You know, the real raunchy kind. Not the good stuff. Not like Olympia. The crap. Don't pay much. But at least 'nuff to pay the rent and buy a little booze when I want it."
"Anyways. I had just picked up a check from the fink publishers that day. The next day, still real uptight, I goes to the bank to cash it. Here." Reaching to his pants pocket with his free hand, Collins withdrew a crumpled strip of paper. I recognized it as a check blank. It was wrinkled.
"You got any bad tires on your heap? Take this. It's pure Goodyear. Bounced higher than the Empire State. Now, not only am I uptight in the crotch, but I'm uptight in the pocket."
He puffed furiously on the cigarette. His eyes began getting wild again, and I sorta' wished he didn't have so much freedom. His voice was hiked up an octave or two also. Poor guy. He'd really had it rough.
"That ain't all. I had just bought a brand new typewriter. SCM, it was. Beautiful thing. Two Hundred. Cash. I don't have it a week, and blooey! The fucking thing falls apart at the seams. Everything on it flips out. It was 'lectric. Turn it on, and you got the Northern Lights. Outa' sight. The roller starts flippin' back and forth like a washing machine agitator. The keys all hit at the same time, and the bell rings like it's a Madison Square Garden reject. Freaked right out."
"Now, you gettin' the pix? Dig? Unnerstan' the bit? I boxed out with Bobbi, got keel-hauled with Kim, axed with Aily, clobbered with the check, and took on the typewriter. My rent's due, and the landlord comes on with the bit about how he ain't running no welfare department. I ain't had no pussy in so long I forgot what it was like. The fuck book outfit folded. The Fickle Finger of Fate has really been workin' overtime with me ... an' it didn't use no vaseline neither."
All this was said in a rush of breath. Now Collins paused, took a drag from the fag, and looked at us from his bleary, bloodshot eyes. I had really started feeling for the guy. He'd really had it rough. Hell, who knows. Any guy might flip out under those kind of conditions.
"But that ain't the story yet," Collins continued. "That's just the warm up. The prelims. Openers. The real ball buster is yet to come."
He dragged deeply on the cig. I leaned forward. I was interested as hell now. Shit! If that was only the beginning, no wonder the poor bastard was in the loose screw department. His eyes seemed to sink in further. I was starting to really feel for the guy. Holy hemorrhoids. He'd really been through the wringer. And, he wasn't through yet. What else coulda' happened to him.
"I'm feelin' kina' low. Dig? I goes to this party. Up on the West Side. Groovy pad. I meet this chick. Tina. Outa' sight baby. Cool. Real cool."
"I plays tomcat. That don't work. I play cool. She starts to dig me. I dig her. She's comin' on strong now. Tells me she's all alone. Got the big pad out in Queens. Four an' a half. With two baths yet. She's even got wheels. Can you fix on that, dad. Here I am so fucking uptight I ain't even shit in a week, and here this livin' doll drops in on me right out of outer space. I'm groovin.' I'm outa' sight. Better'n MaryJane. Oh man!"
A far off look crept into his sockets. He seemed to be drifting off. I didn't want the bastard to flip out now. What the hell went with this Tina chick. Come on Collins. Give.
Getting hold of himself, he went on. But his voice was much lower, more subdued. I could just imagine what went next. This cunt probably wouldn't put out either. Boy, was I wrong.
"We're standin' off in a corner, and she's givin' me this . bit about her needing to take a cold shower. She rubbin' it up on me like crazy. Man, I'm ready to put the blocks to her right then and there. She says cool it. She invites me out to her place. Yea! Just like that. Do I go? You think I'm nuts?"
Thinking of what he'd said, and where he was, Collins giggled. I didn't blame the guy. What the fuck. The fact that he goes shows that he's got all his buttons. After what he'd been through, maybe a few of them had gotten in the wrong holes. What the crap. Most anybody would go a little bananas if that had happened to him.
"So. Anyway, we gets in her crate. Nice bug. Almost new. She tells me she's got the grooviest job in town. Makes plenty of bread. Got four and a half ... plus two baths ... looks, legs, boobs, the whole bit. Only she ain't got no man. Wow! Dig? She's tellin' me all this shit. After what I been through. I'm even thinkin' maybe I'll stop pissin' on the Pope's picture.
"All the way out to Queens she's rubbin' the inside of my leg. Man, my pole's up like Cape Canaveral's show piece. She's tellin' me how she wishes she don't have all them clothes on. Says it's too hot. Man! Like I tell her soon's we make her pad, she can get it all out. She kisses me. Long, deep, sexy. I'm ready to jet off right then.
"Finally we make her pad. Man, just like she says. She's outa' her rags like now. Nice. Real nice. Body like fantastic, man. She don't even wait for me. Runs right to the bedroom. Jumps in, and lays there beggin' me to hurry. Like I need beggin'. Right? I so fucked up it takes me three shots to find her hole. But man, when I do ... Outa" fuckin' sight, baby!
"Dad, this chick don't jus' like to fuck; I think she invented the bit. She screws me to a standstill. Then she wants more. Me. I rev it up and ride like there ain't no tomorrow. It was like I jus' couldn't get enough of that box.
"We fuck straight. We fuck upside down. She gets on top. She goes down. We go round the world ... then take a slow boat back. Man, I come so much, that-in the end I was just givin' her the dry heaves. We was really freaked out, baby.
"Finally, we sleep. Like I'm dead, and don't give a good shit. The next morning she wakes me up with the most fantastic breakfast any dude ever had. Not only has this chick got everything there is to have for a guy; but she cooks like an angel. I'm just waiting for me to come out of it. I figure that everything that happened has finally drove me bananas. I'll wake up any second in the Napolean Suite at Bellevue.
"But I don't come out of it. Like it's for real. The chick is. I am. It is. I spend two days there. She's on vacation, and all we do is lay around, fuck, sleep, eat, drink, and then fuck some more. It was heaven, Man. I figured I musta' got run over in the Subway, died, and had gone to heaven."
Collins paused again. He got that far away look in his eyes. He was just sitting there, staring off into space, sadly shaking his head. I edged toward the door again. First this kink tells a weird story about things that can happen to anyone; only not all at the same time. Least, it's not likely. But that I can buy.
Then, he comes on strong about some chick that we all just dream about, but never, but never, find. All his troubles have been solved, and all he can do is sit there shallow like. I figure maybe he's in the right place after all. Then, oh brother! He comes right off the floor with the next one.
"It was all there. Everything. Groovy pad. Groovy chick. Groovy times. I didn't even need pot. Every fuckin' thing anyone could ever dream of I had. I knew it was too good to be true."
He started to sob. Low at first, then the tears cascaded down his cheeks in torrents. I looked to the Doc anxiously. He just watched Collins. Even his eyes looked a little moist. Maybe Dom was the only people in this place after all.
"I started noticing things. Little things. Like, she would go down on me. Blow the livin' shit outa' me, man. But, she would never let me go down on her.
"Other things too. Like, her nipples were small. Real small. But her knockers were the size of grapefruits. And her cunt. Wild dad, but kinda' funny. Like, she ain't got no pussy lips."
"There was other things too. Lot's of them. But no use goin' into all that. Just almost through. Might as well make it short."
"On the third morning, Tina's asleep. She's on her back, her legs kina' open. I decide that I'll wake her up ... kina' special. What broad you know that don' like to be woke up gettin' chopped? Huh? You know any?"
I had to admit that I didn't. No one else admitted to knowing one either. Satisfied that he'd made his point, Collins went on.
"So, I gets between her legs. I open her slit. I'm just gettin' ready to muff-dive when ... Whamo! I see it! Oh Jesus! Sweet, golden, shit. Oh mama. I don't believe it myself."
He broke down into a fit of crying again. What in the fuck did the guy see? What was it about the gorgeous hunk of Venus that had flipped him out?
"What was it," urged Holly. Even he'd gotten uptight.
"Tina ... Ti...." Collins sobbed. "Tina ain't ... ain't no broad. She a guy. She's got a prick. No wonder she ain't got no pussy lips. 'Cause she ain't got no pussy. Like it's made in Japan, baby. Tina was a hermaphrodite! She'd had an operation."
Collins collapsed into a fit of uncontrollable sobs. His shoulders heaved heavily. His whole body was wracked with pained ululation.
I just stood there. My mouth was gaping open. Holly's too. Even the doc had just stared in astonishment. None of us could believe what we had heard.
I lit a cigarette. My hand trembled. I had heard of guys who stepped in shit and came out smelling like a rose. But this was the first time I'd ever heard of a guy stepping in a rose bed, and finding himself up to his ankle bones in shit. Wow! The poor bastard had a right to cry. Wouldn't you?
Gradually Collins's sobs subsided. Holly, always the cool one, lit him a cigarette. Collins only nodded his appreciation. He smoked the cigarette in silence. We all were silent.
"Like weird, man," Collins mumbled. "There it was. The perfect setup. Everything. The whole game. The dream bag. I had it all baby." He sighed heavily, puffed on his fag, and peered at us through sunken sockets. The poor son-of-a-bitch had really been through the wringer.
"Anyway. Tina wakes up. Right off she gloms the bit. It shakes her up too. She apologizes. Says she shoulda' to me. I agreed with her. But I was in shock man. We talk. She tried to love me up. I puked! Shit!
"I make it outa' there somehow. Tina's cryin', beggin' me not to go. Says she's in love with me. The whole bit. I make it back to Manhattan. That was two, three, maybe four days ago. Don't remember too much since then. Started hitting the gin mills. Got stoned outa' my fucking head. Got some grass. Stayed bombed for I don't know how long. That didn't help neither."
"All I could see was them gorgeous legs of hers. Those soft tits. Remember the wonderful way she fucked me until I couldn't do nothin' but just lay there. That body. That face. Those tits. Everything. Got 'Made in Japan' stamped all over it."
Collins sighed heavily again. He sniffled.
"Anything else," Holly asked.
Without looking up, Collins nodded his head.
"Oh yea. There's more. You think the Fickle Finger gonna' let you off that easy once it's got it in for you? Your ass!"
Puffing furiously, Collins dropped the dead butt on the floor.
"Las' night sometime, don't remember when, I'm walking down 25th Street. Over by Thud. You know the place?" Holly indicated he did. "Well, I gotta' take a leak, see. So I goes inna' this building. It's aroun' five, I guess. Anyways, I goes inna' can. No one in there. Leas' I don't see no one. Close the door. Then, Whamo! They jump me.
"I'm 'bout half outa' it. Don' know too much what goin' on. Don' even try to fight back. No use. Couldna' don' nuttin' no way. Outa' it man. Way out.
"They pin me, see. There's free of 'em. A little short brunette, 'dis really upfront blonde, and a real groovy redhead. They're all stacked up good. I figure they gonna' roll me. Don' matter. I ain't got no bread."
His voice started rising again.
"But they don' roll me. Instead, the blonde unzips me, an' next t'ing I know, she blowing up a storm. Keerist! What that bird don' know about sucking pole ain't been invented yet. I ain't been laid in three, four days, so I go off real fast. I figure that's it. I stall. I still ain't too sure of what's happenin'. I stall.
"Then they pull my pants down, force me to the floor. Next t'ing I know, the redhead is mountin' my joint, and the brunnies box is looking me straight inna' kisser. Then I gotta' mouthful of cunt. The Red's really goin' ta town on my joint. I don't do nothin' to the brunnie's box, so she starts fuckin' my nose. Yea! Just like that. Weird! It's a conspiracy I tell ya'.
"Anyway. I don't take long. I pop off again. The brun nie drops her load on my face. Then they tie my wrists together, pull my pants up, and they split.
"I just lay there. I can't move. It's jus' too much, dad. I mean, what can a guy do? How much can he take? First three broads I been makin' steady cold turkey me. Then I meet the most gorgeous broad I ever dreamed about, only she ain't no broad. The fuckin' check the phony publisher gave me is phonier than he is. The peck-peck I lay out a duece for don' peck-peck. The shit-eatin' landlord dumps me out on my ass. What's it all about, baby? How much can a guy take? Huh?
"Then, to top it all off, three swingin' chicks dump me inna' men's crapper, blow me, ball me, feed me pearly nectar, then split for parts unknown ... leavin' me swingin' like so much shit.
"Jus' too much man. Too much. I can' take no more. I had it baby. Up to here. Ya' gotta' help me man. Keep that Fickle Finger motherfucker away from me."
When he finished, Collins was screaming. He had backed himself into the corner, and was glowering at us out of those fireball eyes again. Glancing at the Doc nervously, I was relieved to see him step forward. Speaking in soothing tones, soon he had the guy calmed down enough so he would lay back down. I was kind of glad he didn't strap him back in the jacket. What the fuck. The poor shithead had already been through enough.
"That's about it, officer," Doctor Rubin said quietly. "That is roughly the same story he's been telling us ever since they brought him in. The last part, about being tied up, the policemen who found him will collaborate. As for the rest...." The doc just trailed off, shrugging his shoulders.
Holly got to his feet. We left the padded shrink-factory. For some reason the air outside seemed to smell beautifully. I hadn't realized how close it had been in there.
Just as the doctor started to close the door, Collins called out to us. Holly stopped and stepped back to the door.
"Yes?"
"At firs' I thought maybe I had just taken a bad trip. Ya' dig? But I know it was for real. Ya' wanna' know how?"
Collins waited until Holly nodded.
"Tina. The broad out in Queens? Well, I fell in love with her ... er, I mean him, er, I mean what the fucks a guy gonna' do? How come you guy's don' do somethin'? Huh? You tell me. Why? Why me?"
All Holly could do was shake his head. How do you answer a guy like that? Especially after what he'd been through. I believed him. Know why? Because there ain't no motherfucker alive that could make up a story like that one.
"One more thing," Collins said. "The guy. There was a guy there too. Inna' men's crapper. He had a black thing with him. Like a camera. Don' know why. But he had it. Saw him. He went out right after the broads. If I don' just lay there kinna' dead like, guess I woulda' missed him. Crazy man."
Holly thanked the guy, then as an afterthought, pulled the half empty cigarette package out of his pocket. He was about to throw it to him when the Doc stopped him. Explaining that in his condition he wasn't allowed to have anything flammable. Looking at Collins, the doc softened. He took the pack from Holly, promising to see to it that he got one every hour. Holly thanked him. Collins didn't say anything. Guess the poor bastard was just out of it.
Holly exchanged a little small talk with Rubin, and after getting him to promise to call us if anything else developed, we left. I smiled real big to Dom as he let us out. He smiled back.
Getting back to the car, Holly started back to where I had left mine. He was silent. I let him alone. I knew Holly well enough to know that he would speak when he was sure of what he was going to say.
After about twenty minutes Holly reached for a fag. He'd forgotten that he'd given his to Collins. I offered one of mine. He took it without a word. Then, after lighting it from the dash lighter that he put in his pocket each time he left the car, he opened up.
"What do you think Johnny? The guy on the level?"
"Holly, he's got to be. Nobody, but I mean nobody, could dream up something like that. Not even while they were freaked out on acid. It's true all right. Even the bit about the broad in Queens. Poor son-of-a-bitch. Can't really blame him for getting his marbles all mixed up."
Holly just nodded, without making comment. We drove the rest of the way in silence. I was mentally calculating the odds that my heap would be where I left it. Since today was Thursday, I figured I had a pretty good chance. The Mayor didn't make his weekly report until tonight.
CHAPTER FIVE - THE BROAD IN QUEENS
After picking up my buggy, I headed back to the office. I had enough stuff to file a story with, for a change. I knew that George would most likely still be there, but I had some work to do. I needed a place to think things out too. Man, this case was driving me right up a wall. What was the gimmick? How did J.B. tie in on the deal. Why?
Let's face it. For those of you not too familiar with the City, I'll clue you in. Manhattan is a small island. It just looks big to the uninitiated. Actually, you can't fart too loud there without everyone in the Borough knowing about it. It is the smallest of the five Boroughs. It is also the liveliest ... for tourists. And, the most crowded for the natives.
But there are two things you got to remember about Manhattan. First, it's the easiest place in the world to get your ashes hauled. Second, absolutely no one there does anything for free. In Times Square, they'll even charge you for a glass of water.
So, working with those two facts, I came up with the following. First, the cunts weren't hard up. From their descriptions, they could get all the meat they wanted. Also, you could rule out the idea that they were just out for a lark. They had repeated themselves too many times.
That led me directly into the next fact. Bread, money, cash green, gold, moola, that 'ol magic wand!
I repeat again. No one does anything in Manhattan without being paid for it; usually, in advance. The mere fact that the girls had struck so many times indicated to me that they were doing it for monetary gain. Somehow. The fact that J.B. was mixed up in it somehow, only served to strengthen that conviction. That bird could smell a payoff a mile away.
The hitch was, why? What could there be about hauling a few nondescript guys in the can? How could anyone make any money from that? Blackmail? I thought about that. From what I had learned most of the guys barely had enough dough to take the subway. Those that did have a little bread had been checked out, and nothing ever came of it after that. They hadn't been contacted. Holly had the same idea, and had already checked the thing out, thoroughly. Deadend there. Then what?
I wracked my brain until my big toes hurt. I just couldn't come up with an angle that made sense. No matter how wild I made it, I just couldn't think of a way for anyone to make a buck out of this mish-mash. Yet, somehow, J.B. had figured a way. Now, all I had to do, was put the pieces together. If, I could find the right pieces.
After parking the bus, I took the elevator. It was late. Not too many people were left in the building. I was pleasantly surprised when the lift stopped at the third floor, and low and behold, if the bird I'd seen earlier that day didn't get on. Man was she stacked. Her thin blouse revealed an even thinner bra. I could almost see the nipples through it. My rod started getting up. I noticed that she glanced at my crotch. That only made it get harder.
It had been a long day. Collins's description of what he had been doing, and thinking about the terrible threesome roaming the city, had gotten me pretty worked up. The thought of tumbling this little bit of fluff didn't exactly turn me off. I winked at her. When she winked back, man I almost flipped.
"Kinda' late, isn't it?" I started off.
"I'm almost through for the night. I just have to stop on the fifth floor. I've got to look up some old copy. It's kind of spooky though. I mean, there isn't anyone up there this time of night. I'll be the only one there."
The way she said it, I knew that I had myself an invitation. When she pulled her shoulders back a little more, I knew for sure. This bird was asking to get the pole slipped to her. Now I could see her nipples plain. They were taut, pointed, yearning. The elevator passed four.
"Maybe it isn't too safe for a young thing like you to be all alone up there. Maybe that you need someone along. You know, sort of keep an eye on you."
I deliberately let my gaze linger on her upthrust tits. My dong started to throb a little bit. She returned my stare. Only hers was directed between my legs. With my jockey shorts holding my dong upright, making it bulge in front, she got a good eye full. The pink tip of her tongue brushed quickly over her lips. Her eyes lit up. She rubbed the palm of her hand over her skirt. I could see that it had been moist. Her skirt was darker where she had brushed it. Yea! This chick was ready all right. So was I.
"Yes. You're right. I guess maybe I would feel better if I had someone along. But, I hate to keep you from what ever it was you were doing. I mean, if you have something more important to do, please don't let me stop you."
I grinned. This bird couldn't be real. What was more important than putting the blocks to a good looking chick? The elevator ground to a stop at five. The door slid open.
"Not at all. I'll enjoy the change."
She smiled. Her eyes danced. She stepped out of the car. I followed close behind, enjoying the way her hips wiggled. I could tell she didn't wear a girdle underneath. I'd bet that her panties were thin, frilly, and black. Also, a little wet right then.
"What's your name?" I asked. After all, it did seem like a good idea to at least know the moniker of a broad before you fucked her. Made things kind of cozy.
"Shirley. Shirley Johnson. Your's?"
"John Bartley. Friends call me Johnny. I'm a reporter around here. You work in ad?"
"Yea. About a month now."
I was walking beside, and just a little behind. I saw that she was exaggerating the swing of her arm. Each back swing missed hitdng me in the joint by only a fraction of an inch. I saw that she was glancing down, out of the corner of her eye, judging what she was doing. I smiled. Then I joined the game.
Moving up slightly, I made sure my dingus was lined up. She swung back! Bump! Not really too hard. Just enough for her to get a good feel of how hard it was. She kept walking.
I moved up a little further. Her arm came back again. Bump! This time it was harder, and she got a better feel. It still didn't hurt, but I pretended it did.
"Obhh!" I moaned, bending over.
"Oh! I'm sorry. Did I hurt it ... er, I mean you?"
"No! Not too much anyway. I think you got me in the ba ... I mean down low. You know, between the legs."
"That's terrible."
Her voice sounded sincerely concerned. But I knew that she was just going along with the game. She had turned toward me. There wasn't a sound on the whole floor we were on. We were all alone. I went for broke.
Reaching down, I rubbed my balls, tenderly, as if they hurt. Shit, man, they did hurt a little, only not from the bump she had given them. The pink tip brushed her lips again. Even in the dim light I could see her eyes sparkling. I almost knew her next line.
"I'm so sorry. Really I am. That could be dangerous. I do hope I didn't hurt you too bad. Maybe you should check. You know, look to see if anything is wrong. It never hurts to be careful."
Her voice was low, husky, full of lust. I was sure she would go along with the next bit.
"Yea! you're right. It's best to be careful. But ... I can't check it very well myself. I mean ... it's in kind of an odd place, and in this light, it would be hard to see. It would be best if I had some one else check. The First Aid Office is on the fourth floor. I guess I should go down there. But ... if anything is wrong, I might hurt it even more by walking around. Gee! Guess I'm in kind of a fix."
Her gaze was riveted to the bulge in my pants. Nervously she glanced up and down the corridor. Confident that we were alone, she returned her attention to me.
"I ... I feel sorta' responsible. I certainly wouldn't want you to walk around and really injury anything. I mean, that would make me feel terrible. I certainly wouldn't want anything like that on my conscience."
The soft, pinkness flicked. Her voice had gotten lower. My dong had gotten harder. If she didn't stop fucking around I was going to drop her and dick her right in the hall.
"I wouldn't want you to feel you had to do anything. It's probably nothing. But, if I had it checked ... you know, just to make absolutely sure, I would feel better about it. Just to be safe." I rubbed my balls tenderly again.
"Well, I guess maybe I could at least do that for you. I mean, after all, it was my fault." She took a timid step forward.
"I, wouldn't ... that is, you understand ... there is nothing personal in this. It's just that you might be hurt. You understand?"
"Oh sure," I replied, fighting back a grin.
"Will you, I mean, wouldn't it be best if you undid your pants?" Her voice was barely audible.
With two quick flips my belt was undone, zipper down. My pants dropped to my knees. My cock, swollen painfully, bulged upright in my jockey shorts. My aching balls filled the sack. I heard her gasp a short, deep, intake. Through the thin nylon of Shirley's blouse and bra I could plainly see the outline of her swollen nipples. By Shit, but she was stacked. My dick throbbed. I knew she could see it pulsating. I found it hard to swallow. Keerist, but I was hot.
Gingerly her hand reached out. She pulled it back. I could see the deep crimon flush on her face. She was hot too. Again, Shirley's hand reached out. Gently she touched my balls through the sack. The warmth of her hand penetrated the cotton. My dick throbbed hotter, harder, larger. I knew she could feel it.
Man was I hot. But, like with this kind of bird, you had to play it cool. Like, you didn't just drop her and dick her. No! She had to play the game. She had to be made to think that you really didn't think she was that kind of girl. Bullshit. It was a real pain in the ass. But the only way to ease the pain in my balls. This kind of bird had to be able to say she really hadn't wanted to, afterwards. Screwy! That's the game though.
"Does it hurt there?" she asked hoarsely.
"A little I think. You will probably have to look at them. I would pull my shorts down, but I'm kina' afraid to bend. Would, that is, if you would pull them down for me."
She nodded. With both hands, she slowly began tugging at the waistband. She was bent over. Straightening, she laid the large envelope she was carrying on the floor. Then she knelt on it. Her full, ripe, juicy lips were directly in line with my dick. It throbbed even harder.
Again she tugged. The white cover began to descend. The head of my enlarged organ appeared. Her gaze was riveted on it. I could see her chest rising, and falling. The tender tip wetted her lips again. She pulled my shorts down further.
As more and more of my joint was exposed, I could clearly hear her harsh breathing. When at last my cock flopped free of its carrying pack, it bounced directly in her face, not an inch away from her mouth. I could feei her hot breath on the tingling, purplish head. Oh, shit, but it felt good. Shirley's breathing became deeper, more labored. Her line of sight was directly over the long barrel of my meat. I knew she wanted to suck my dick so badly she could already taste it. I wanted her to also. I thrust my hips forward, without moving my feet. She didn't move. I moved forward a little more. The heat of her mouth burned the head of my dick furiously. Absentmindedly, she pulled my shorts down more, freeing my semen filled balls.
Shirley's pouting lips parted slightly. Thrusting forward again the small hole on the tip of my cock made contact. Her eyes closed. My hands went to her head. She didn't resist. I shuffled my feet forward a couple inches. Half the rubbery tip forced its way between her already slightly open lips. The excitement and pleasure-pain I was experiencing was excruciating. I heard myself moan.
Her hot, delicate hand found the root of my cock. She held it, the heat from her hand doing crazy things to me. I knew she could feel my dick throbbing in her hand, and against her lips. That was what she wanted. I felt the tantalizing tip of her tongue search out, then find, the opening on the tip of my bean. She probed it deliciously. I pushed my pelvis into her again. The engorged knob disappeared from sight. I trembled as her soft lips brushed over the surface, and again when I felt the flat of her taster washing over it. I heard myself moan again. This time she joined in.
Simultaneously, I pulled her into me, and jammed my dick into her orifice. She opened wide to receive me. More than half of my dick sunk into her mouth. I could feel the head touching the inner reaches of her throat. I was so far in her that she tightened her grip on my dick, and with her free hand, cupped my sagging balls.
The hot wetness of her mouth was wonderful. Slowly I began rocking back and forth. My dick flinched each time she allowed her teeth to scrape over it. She used her teeth against the back edge of my cockhead to keep me from pulling it all the way out. At the same time, her tongue savored the taste of my meat, the sensuous fire and force of it running riot through her tempestuous body. Shirley was gorging herself on the pulsating flesh; licking, teasing, tasting, testing each vein. Sweet, tasty, shit! She sure could suck a man's cock.
Time and again I pumped my meat into her like a steam engine. She moaned, squeezing my come filled balls as if trying to pump my come into her mouth.
Putting one hand behind her head, alternately pulling her into me, then letting her escape, I dropped the other to her tit. Just as I had thought, they were firm, hard, erect; yet soft and yielding, begging to be tantalized. Grasping her nipple between my thumb and forefinger, I rolled it back and forth. She groaned loudly. I fucked into her mouth faster. Holy bird-turds! I wanted to shoot my load in her mouth so bad my asshole hurt. I wanted her to swallow it, gulp it, drink it until every last fucking drop was in her.
I fucked into her in long, deep, hard thrusts. As overwhelming as it was, nonetheless, mental images kept sliding in and out of my consciousness. The huge Black on the stage. Oh, but she felt good. She squeezed my balls harder.
What was the angle? Where was the money? Shirley sucked hard at the head. I almost shot off right then. Keerist! She was going to devour me; whole. I squeezed her nipple harder. She moaned louder, wiggling. Her head vibrated faster.
"I'm almost ready to come." I breathed throatily.
Shirley stopped. Her tongue flicked over the head tantalizingly. Then, she pulled the wet saliva covered dingus from its warm haven. I was startled. I looked down.
"Fuck me first. I ... I want to feel it between my legs. Please! Ohhhhh. I'm so hot."
There was a desk nearby. Right then I didn't give a damn where I shot off, just so I did. Grabbing her hand, I pulled her over to the desk. My cock swayed pointedly. With my pants around my legs, it was rough going. I pushed her back onto the table. She adroitly lifted her short skirt. I had been right. They were black and wet. In one swift motion I yanked them down, and off. Her bare cunt pouted at me provocatively. The lips were swollen. I could see the soft, moist, inner flesh peeking out between them. She hadn't been kidding. She was hotter than a dime store pistol.
Shirley lay back on the desk, her legs open wide. My dick lined up perfectly, I crawled on top of her. The wooden structure creaked under our combined weight. Then I stabbed into her.
"Ahhhhh!" she moaned. Half my cock knifed into her no hot flesh. Her legs opened wider, went up higher. I jabbed myself forward again, this time harder. More of my meat plunged into her. She groaned deeply, gripping my arms tightly.
Jamming into her, I succeeded in completely burying my joint deep inside her. Pulling out an inch, I jabbed forward again; then rotated my hips. Her pussy muscles gripped my dingus hard, and crying out, she violently shook her head from side to side.
"Ohhhh! You ... You're so big. Oouuuu! It feels so wonderful. Fuck me. Fuck the hell outa' me Johnny. Ohhhh, I'm so hot."
With determination I began fucking her; short, hard jabbing thrusts, ending each time with rotating my hips in a circular motion. My arms felt as if they were in a vise. I supported myself on my hands, allowing me to look down into her face. It was contorted. She shook her head repeatedly, licking her bee-stung lips. I pounded at her' harder.
Now Shirley was lifting herself to me; trying to drive my dick even deeper into her. She tried to pull herself up to me. She was going wild. I fucked into her faster and faster. I could feel my semen building rapidly. I would come any minute.
Defdy, I looped my arms under her legs, and soon had the back side of her knees resting on my shoulder. She was completely vulnerable now. I began making long more powerful strokes. She cried out each time I drove the fall length of it home in her.
"Oh, Johnny! Oh Johnny! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh, Johnny! I, I, I ... 'm gonna' ... com ... Ah! Ah ... come! Harder! Deeper! Fas'er! Fuck me, Johnny. Fuck me!"
Shirley was bouncing so tumultuously under me now that the desk was moving. I pulled out of her as far as I dare, then sent my bolt slamming into her with the speed j and power of a piston. She yelled, clutched hard, then dissolved into a paroxym of motion.
Her velvety muscles pulled at my prick with staccato beats. My mouth was bone dry. My heart pounded painfully. My lungs were seared by the heated gasps of air I managed to force into them. The unyielding desk surface ground agonizingly into my kneecaps.
I creamed in her! The first hot jet of semen elicited a passionate moan from both of us.
"I'm coming. I'm coming," I managed to breathe, then the multi-colored lights exploded in my head in a kaleidoscopic panorama. I banged into her with all my might.
"Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes," Shirley bleated. "Do it. Hard ... fast ... Ohhhhhh! Come-Ah!-in me. Come! Aughhh!"
With unbelievable strength, Shirley pulled herself up to me, glueing her lips to mine. Then her mouth was on my shoulder, her teeth sinking deep into the tender flesh. I felt nothing, except repeated volcanic explosions in my groin, sending jet after jet of hot, milky lava cascading into her gash. Shirley's ankles locked, scissor-like, around my neck. The bitch was choking the shit outa' me, but all I could think of was getting as much of that sweet, delicious, juicy, warm pussy wrapped around my joint as possible. Holy Shit, but was she ever a wild fuck. Almost as good as ... I thought of Wanda, and had a momentary pang of guilt. It was gone faster than it came. The sensational things she was doing to my rod with her sensitive cunt muscles blocked out everything now.
Then, it was over. As wildly obstreperous had the love-making been, now our bodies were equally tranquil, at peace. As ululating as our expressions of passions had been, now were our contented sighs of satisfaction subdued, quiescence; almost contrition for the effervescence of our ardor.
Occasionally my dingus, still buried deep, twitched. Purring quietly, Shirley squeezed it. I kissed her.
"Wow," Shirley said. "I needed that. Really. I was so hot I thought I was going to die. It's been so long." She hugged me to her, letting her nails scratch pleasantly over my back.
What the fuck! This was certainly a switch. No recriminations. No tears. No, "I've never done anything like this before." No false modesty, followed by shame and anger. Nothing-except warm, soft, cuddly, purring womanhood. Man, this Shirley was really some lay. She was the greatest. A man would have to go a long way to find any better pussy than she had. And the way she sucked! Outa' sight, baby! If she learned to blow a trumpet like that, she'd put 'ol Satchmo to shame.
We just lay there, coupled together, enjoying the glorious after glow. But, like all good things, it had to end. Shirley cleared her throat, at the same time making as if to take her legs off my shoulders. It was done.
"Someone might come," she whispered.
Raising myself, I grinned down at her. "We just did," I answered flippantly. Finding her breast, I squeezed it gently. Reluctantly, I began withdrawing. Shirley moaned her protest. Yea, baby. She was one fine piece of ass. Had to remember to get back to her. Soon.
Reaching for my handkerchief, I quickly wiped the come off my flaccid prick. Kissing her lightly on the lips, I pressed the soiled cloth to her still open pussy. Smiling, she reached down and held it in place. I pulled my shorts up as she swung herself off the desk. We had a hell of a time finding her panties. In my lust, I had really flung them.
As we waited for the elevator I suddenly remembered what we supposedly had come to the fifth floor for. I reminded Shirley. Smiling, an impish glint in her eye, she reached out and patted my docile dong.
"I've got news for you Mr. Bartley. I got what I came to the fifth floor for."
Just like that. Right out with it. Yep, this chick was really up front all right. She had known what she wanted, and gotten it. All the time I had thought I had been making her. It was just the other way about. Groovy!
The lift came. We stepped in. Pausing briefly, I pushed number seven. All good things had to end. Shirley sighed heavily. As the door closed, she leaned her head against my shoulder.
"It was nice. You're good." My ego went into orbit. "I liked it. I, I hope we can do it again sometime. Anytime. I have my own apartment. Live alone. No roommates or anything like that to worry about. If you want, I'll give you my number."
Instantly my "Happiness Manual" was out, and I had scribbled her name, address, and phone number in it. Quickly I kissed her as the elevator slowed to a stop. Squeezing her tit one last time, I promised that I'd be in touch. Soon. Her whole countenance brighten. Ah, what a joy to give happiness. All in a days work.
Pressing the ground floor button, I stepped off, then watched the door slide shut, blocking her from view. The elevator indicator showed the car going down. I smiled as I remembered that was how it had all started. Savoring the memory, I headed for my desk.
Much to my surprise, George was already gone. Glancing at my watch, I was genuinely surprised to see that over an hour had elapsed since I had first come into the building. Who woulda' guessed it. Man, that Shirley was sure some fine fuckin' stuff. I patted my back pocket, making sure the 'Happiness Manual' was there. Then I turned my thoughts to the caper.
Quickly, I ran over everything I knew. Purdy, the other guys, Collins, the three tumultuous dolls. The Black giant, his partner, their act, J.B.; particularly J.B., and his vague connection. I thought about Eddie, Vito, the "Red Rose," and wracked my brains trying to find a connecting link. With inner amusement and sympathy I reflected on the Pandora's box that was poor Collins. Boy, that guy sure had gotten himself fucked up. Poor bastard.
The camera, blackmail, the victims themselves. How? Why? Not one of them had anything in common except for being triple balled in the men's crapper. None had been contacted later. There was simply no rhyme or reason for any of it.
What made the whole thing even more an enigma was J.B. Now you gotta' understand this guy. He had his crooked fingers in every pie in town; the State for that matter. Maybe even the whole fucking country. No one, outside of J.B. himself, knew for sure just how vast his transgressive Empire was. All that was known for sure was that J.B. was the "Big Boy."
Anything he was mixed up in meant money. And I don't mean peanuts. Ten, fifteen thousand were openers for him. He probably had that much in his pocket all the time, in small change. No, when you talked about J.B. and money in the same breath, you were talking about millions. So how did it figure? Three broads ball ignoble guys in the crapper, and somehow that son-of-a-bitch has figured a way to turn it into big bread. But how, goddamn it? How? Could it all be an ignis fatuus? A will-of-the-wisp? Red Herring?
My intense concentration was broken by the jangling bell of the telephone. It was Holly. As usual, he sounded cool as hell. There were times when he really bugged me.
"Yea Holly. What gives," I snapped.
"Whazza' matter? She wouldn't put out?"
"Just the opposite 'ol pal 'o mine. She fucked me, sucked me, and rewound my watch all at the same time." I didn't know why I was being so sharp with Holly. Just felt that way I guess. I heard Holly chuckle. The son-of-a-bitch! He knew when he was gettin' to me. Once, just once, I would like to see that mother blow his cool. Fat chance. If St. Pete himself walked up to Holly and told him it was his time, Holly would just look him straight in the eye and ask to see some identification. That was Holly. I sometimes got the feeling he had motor oil in his veins instead of human sap. But, when the going got rough, pal there wasn't a better guy in the whole fuckin', fucked up world to have on your side. You better believe it, dad.
"Had dinner?" he drawled.
Something was up. Holly just wasn't the kind that called you up and offered to cut a bowl of Wonton for kicks.
"No," I replied flatly. Bastard! I'd play it just as close-to the ass as he did.
"Just got a call." He paused. I could hear him exhale a stream of smoke. Come on Holly. Give sweetheart. Give.
"From Tina. Out in Queens. Wants to see us. For din-din. Says its important. Interested?"
"Tina!" I exclaimed. The lousy, no-good, chickenfuckin', ass-kissin', ticket-fixin' poker-playin' cop son-of-abitch. Man, when it came to dropping 'em in outa' left field, this cat took the bakery. The whole fuckin' bakery.
Was I interested? Would Spiro Who be interested in a signed confession of Commie Conspiracy from Senator J. W. Fuldim? Would Lindsay Landslide be interested in finding out who stole his false teeth just before he was supposed to go on TV? Would Rockabeller be interested in learning how to play "Chattanooga Choo-choo? Would George be interested in finding out who slipped him the 'ol Turppy? Why hadn't the bastard come out with it in the first place, instead of playing ring-around-the-shit-bowl?
"Tina!" I exclaimed again. "You mean the genuine, imitation, Horn'a-Plenty that put our boy Collins into the 'Twilight Zone'? Aww, come on, Holly, baby. What the fucks that strange got to do with this caper? Goddamn man. This soap opera's already got more loose ends than a spaghetti factory." I groaned audibly.
"No sweat chum. Just thought I'd give you a ring. If you want to sit this one out, 'ts O.K. by me. Keep in touch."
"Holly!" I screamed into the receiver. "You hang up on me you apple stealin' motherfucker you, and so help me I'll ... I'll...."
Holly's deep, masculine laughter on the other end infuriated me even more. "Pick you up in front in ten minutes," he said, then the line went dead. Fifteen minutes later we were headed for the midtown tunnel.
The night was hot, muggy; normal for the city. The pollution hung over the skyscrapers like a pall. We had the windows down, the dull, repetitious monotones of the police radio, unfolding the tragic, amusing, dangerous, sometimes fatal, saga of the city and the people in it.
I had calmed down considerably since speaking to Holly over the phone. What the fuck. We all blow off a little steam once in a while. That was one of the good things about having a guy like Holly for a pal. He kept me from ever taking myself too damned serious.
This late in the evening there wasn't much traffic and it took only a short time before we had passed through the tunnel and found ourselves on the expressway leading to Flushing; one of the best parts of the city ... for living. The people seemed more at ease, there was less crime, and there were a hell of a lot more trees, sidewalks, grass (The green variety), and nice-lookin' broads. That's the way it is with Queens. All the cunt works in the city-fucks in the suburbs.
I was still going over the events of the day. Shirley's memory warmed my insides. I almost believed in Santa Claus again. Just then it flashed into my mind that I had promised Wanda that I'd be there before she went to work. Glancing at my watch, I saw that it was only a couple of hours before she was due at the "Red Rose." Urgently pressing Holly to find a phone booth, I jumped out of the car even before it slid to a stop. Now, just cross my fingers and hope that the phone works.
My luck was still holding. It worked. First I called my place. I let it ring ten or twelve times. No answer. Maybe Wanda went back over to her place. I dialed that. Still no answer. What the hell. Maybe she was in between. Sometimes, if she got pissed off enough, and she knew I was calling, she would just sit there, listening to the phone ring.
I did some fast calculating. I had given her a quickie in the morning. That would have pissed her off a little bit. Next, I'd promised I'd call her. I hadn't, not all day. That would piss her off even more. I'd promised to be home early. It was already after eight, and I was half way into Queens. She didn't know the last bit, but she could tell time.
Yep! That would make her uptight enough to make her just sit by the phone. I could almost see her. Eyes flashing, mouth puckered, arms folded, legs drawn up under her as she perched on the couch. With each ring, she would huff and puff, getting more and more pissed.
Hanging up, I sighed deeply, lit a cigarette and watched a miniskirted little bit of fluff wiggle down the street. Holly beeped the horn. He was impatient. Fuck him. He'd gotten me bananas earlier. Let him get a little constipated now. Besides, when Wanda got her ass in an uproar like this, it meant I'd spend a miserable couple of days until she came down again.
Ordinarily this wouldn't bug me too much. But under the circumstances, I had an ominous foreboding. Wanda had been too boxed out of her cork last night for me to clue her in on what had happened at the party. Naturally, I wasn't about to tell her everything. I'd wind up with Collins if I did. But the fact that she would probably show at the "Red Rose," not knowing that Eddie had the hots for me, made me uneasy. The way him and Vito had looked at me as I'd left last night still had me vexed. It was sorta' like they had taken an overdose of Ex-Lax and were just feeling the results.
Tossing the half smoked fag into the gutter, I stepped back into the squad car. Holly looked at me questioningly. When I didn't say anything, he shrugged his shoulders, put the car in gear, eased out onto the main thoroughfare, and gunned the motor. Holly had the patience of Job. I decided that it would be best to level with him. Besides, I hadn't had the chance to completely clue him in yet.
"You still up a tree about J.B.?" I ventured, lighting another weed. Holly had had the same reaction I'd first had about J.B.'s involvement. It just didn't make any sense. The money angle just didn't dovetail.
"Aren't you? After all, maybe the creep was telling you the truth for once. Maybe he is just doing a favor. Of course, it probably is to his advantage. Must have something else up his sleeve, and isn't too interested in having us snooping around. Might stumble onto somethin' by accident. Could be, ya' know. It's the only way the fuckin' jigsaw figures."
I nodded my head absently. Holly was right of course. Yet, somehow I just couldn't believe it. It just didn't sound like J.B.'s style. If he had something else up his sleeve, and felt that there was even the slightest danger of it being uncovered, he would take more direct and positive action. What? Simple. He would simply plug up any possibility of a leak; permanently. The "Big Boy" just wasn't the kind to smile and forget it when someone threatened one of his operations. Not that guy.
Quickly I ran back over the events of the party with Holly. Then I told him about my fears for Wanda. I quizzed him again about the possibility of blackmail. He vehemently insisted that there wasn't the briefest hint of that. At least, not with the guys that had been involved so far.
The fact of the camera, as recounted by Collins, plus my own tale about the cameraman behind the picture, gave us some thought. What could it mean? If blackmail had even been a possibility, then it would all be simple. Rule that out, and you had nothing.
We even went so far as to speculate that he was going to try a new wrinkle on pornographic films. This was tossed into the shit can in a hurry. Didn't make sense. There were hundreds of guys around that would go along with that bit for free. Just for the chance to bust some good looking pussy. Besides, using porno film like that would be the dumbest thing around. Automatic evidence, and another of J.B.'s trademarks was always to leave absolutely no clues. Nope. That didn't fit either.
Shit, but I was getting a headache from just thinking about the whole deal. I decided to change the subject.
"So what's this broad in Queens got to do with anything?" I asked. Holly still hadn't given me any information.
"Don' know. Just got a call from her. Seems she's pretty hung up on our boy Collins. Tracked him to the hospital. Found out from the Doc that we'd been there. Called me. Said she had some information that was important. Asked her could she tell me over the phone? She said no, too important. Said if I'd come by tonight, she'd have some groceries ready, and spill what she knew."
Holly paused, maneuvered adroitly around a cab, missed a kid on a bike, raced through a yellow light, then went on.
"Since we ain't got even a sniff of an idea, I guess maybe its worth the trouble. Who knows? She just might give us the goddamn key that will unlock this freaky mystery."
I had to agree with Holly. Right now, anything would be an improvement. Both of us were right up a tree on this one. Yet, there had to be an answer, and once it was known, if it ever was, it would probably be so damned simple I'd kick myself silly for not having seen it sooner. I consoled myself by thinking about Shirley, and that afternoon on the fifth floor. Then, frowning, I thought about Wanda. Oh well. Nothin' I could do about that right now. Besides, nothing was likely to happen. Eddie wouldn't even fart unless J.B. gave him the beans first.
Tina lived in one of those new, modern, high-rise, apartment buildings that had sprung up like crazy all over New York. Holly had the apartment number, and soon we were being ushered into one of the most beautifully furnished living rooms I'd ever seen, by one of the most gorgeous blondes I'd ever laid my sex happy 'ol peepers on. Man, oh, man. Collins had been right. This babe was right out of the pages of Vogue. Stacked, long-legged, perfectly coiffed, immaculately attired.
My joint gave a jump, and I could see that even Holly was impressed. This doll was sex with a capital "S." I found it impossible to believe that she was a he. It just couldn't be. I had seen broads who would have given their right tits to look half as good as she did. No wonder the poor bastard nipped out. If I'd been fucked around like he'd been, then found something like this, then discovered 'Made in Japan' stamped all over it, I would have reacted the same way. Shit? It was impossible. This just had to be the put on to end all put ons. I reflected quickly if I could talk her into proving she was all pussy.
After seating us, pouting prettily when Holly informed her that we simply couldn't accept her dinner invitation, but that we were very much interested in any information she might have, she seemed mollified when we agreed to have some coffee. It was delicious, and the little cakes she served with it were enough to make a married man leave home. Shit! I wasn't a married man and I was ready to leave home.
Tina was sitting across from me, and the miniskirt she carefully adjusted just teased me even more. It didn't quite come down far enough, and I could have sworn that just a hint of pale blue peeked out from under it. This just had to be a real broad. If she wasn't, my balls were sure as hell picking up the wrong signals.
Relaxing, the coffee settling warmly in my stomach, I looked around. The walls were covered with tastefully selected prints. The chick had taste. A Stereo wafted out soft, soothing, after-dinner music. The lush warmth of the room seeped into me. The furniture was luxurious, yet not extravagant. It had a comfortable, meant to be used quality about it. The decorations blended perfectly with the relaxed, yet, sumptuous quality of the atmosphere. I could well see why Collins would have been deeply affected. I was. So was Holly. The son-of-a-bitch was really squirming.
Holly put his cup and saucer on the ornate coffee table. Clearing his throat, he looked at Tina. She looked back at him, her face radiant, outgoing, inviting. Kiss my ass but she was some kinda' broad. This just couldn't be the same one Collins had blown his gaskets over. Impossible.
"Now Miss Perkins," Holly began. The chick beamed at him.
"Please call me Tina," she breathed. My joint jumped like a Mexican jumping bean. When she shifted slightly, my eyeballs were gently massaged with an ample view of soft, silky, pale blue. She was wearing a garter belt and stockings.
"Very well. Now, Tina, you said on the phone that you had some information, and that it was important. I hate to push you, but we would appreciate hearing what you have."
"Yes, of course. I do wish you gentlemen could have dinner. I prepared a roast duck. Just for you."
She smiled again, and my insides melted. I could almost taste that duck. I could almost taste her too. I began to wonder what she would taste like. It suddenly seemed uncomfortably warm.
"I'm sorry we can't, but I'm afraid we're in something of a hurry. Perhaps some other time. Now, would you please...." Holly's voice trailed off. The bastard. He was probably thinking this would have been a real setup if I weren't along. I could just bet his ass that he would try for some other time all right. Asshole. Hell of a pal he was.
"Very well. Although I must confess I'm disappointed." When she pouted, my stomach turned over several times. Man, was she some kinda' sweet. I could just imagine her long legs wrapped around...! Sweet Shit. I was getting stones.
Shrugging her delicate shoulders, Tina leaned forward, put her glass on the coffee table, sighed, then took on a very serious expression. I hated to see the change. In a way though, it was something of a relief. I felt some of the pressure between my legs lessen. Folding her arms, she began.
"As you gentlemen know, Don and I, that is Mr.
Collins ... are, er ... rather, were rather close." She bowed her head, and I noted a faint coloring tinge her face. She didn't see Holly nod.
"After our ... misunderstanding, Don became rather upset. He went into the City. When I hadn't heard from him in a day or two, I became worried. I started searching for him. His regular haunts, mutual friends, things like that. I got very close, then discovered that he was in the ... hospital." Her voice had become edgy. She was obviously finding it difficult.
"Well, anyway. During my search for Don, I found myself in some rather sorrid surroundings. I was sitting in one of these places when three young ladies came in. They definitely didn't fit. Not the type. Even the bartender commented that it looked like he was attracting a better crowd that day." Lowering her head again, she definitely blushed. I could just imagine the horny bastard leering at her from the other side of the bar.
"They sat at a back booth. I didn't pay much attention you understand. I was busy looking at the street, hoping to catch a glance of Don.
"After a bit, I had to go to the ladies room. While I was in there ... Oh yes, I'm getting a little ahead of my story. After the girls had sat for awhile, they got up and left. It was then that I went to powder my nose."
"While I was in the restroom, they suddenly burst in. I don't think they knew I was there. They were giggling, having a ball. Honestly, I thought maybe they were hopped up on something. At first I didn't pay any attention to what they were saying, until I realized that they were talking about having ... er, how shall I say it?"
Again Tina dropped her face. The chick was really flustered. Knowing that if she had any 'information about the caper we were working on, it probably would prove a Utile disquieting to tell it. Especially to a couple of strange dudes like us. Holly and I waited patiently for her to regain her composure.
Clearing her throat, Tina went on. "They were talking about having raped a man. At first, I couldn't believe I was hearing right. I listened carefully. I found out later that apparently it was Don." Now her tone was cold as charity. I could just see her if she ever got her hands on those broads. Instant disaster area, baby. This was one chick who definitely didn't dig some other monkey monkeying around with her monkey. Maybe Collins didn't know it, but he was a real lucky fucker to have a bird like Tina warm for his form. She was the type that stuck ... through thick or thin. Chicks like Tina were few and far between.
"Are you sure?" Holly pressed.
"Yes," Tina replied, nodding her head vigorously. "After I realized what they were saying, I listened very carefully."
"Did you see them? Could you recognize them again?"
"I'm afraid not," Tina said sadly. I could tell that she was really wanting to help. So far though, she hadn't told us anything we didn't already know. I was disappointed.
"Is there anything else you can remember?" I asked.
"Oh yes! One of the girls called the other by name."
Both Holly and I perked up instantly. A name. That was the first hint of a break we'd had. Maybe this wasn't such a wasted trip after all. She could tell we-were hot to trot now.
"One of them was named Ellen. Another was called Lois. I didn't hear what the thud one was called. Oh yes, one of them also had a small, crescent scar on her left ankle. That was all I could see of them. Their feet."
Instantly my mind raced back to the party. The redhead. Her name had been Ellen. And, all the reports always indicated a redhead involved. My ticker was really pumping now. I just knew we were getting close. This was the first time anything had even remotely connected J.B. and anyone around him directly.
The bit about the scar clicked too. I didn't know why though. You know how it is when something sticks in your head, then later when it comes up again you remember something, but you can't remember what it is? Well, that's the way it was with me and the scar. There was something about it that rang a bell. I just couldn't put my finger on it.
So far, Tina was coming on strong. She had told us more in one minute than we'd been able to uncover in a week. Yep! She was some other kinda' chick all right. But, she wasn't through yet.
"Anything else Tina? Think. Think hard. You're doing just great," Holly effused. He was almost as excited as I was. He knew that we just might have stumbled onto something really big.
Realizing how up in the air we were, and catching the bug a little bit herself, Tina went on. "Well, there was something else. Something they said. I ... I can't seem to remember it too clearly. Actually, it didn't make much sense to me."
"Try, Tina, try," Holly pleaded, leaning forward. His face was strained, and it appeared as if he were almost holding his breath, afraid that if he breathed too hard, it might distract her.
"Well," she began, closing her eyes as if trying to visualize the scene again. "It went something like ... 'only two more days. Glad we finally got the prelims over with'. Then, one of the other girls agreed with her. She said, 'yea, me too. Man, but won't those Hallelujah cats flip?'"
The chick had her eyes shut tight, straining like, trying to recall everything. She was really up front, dad. If that fucking Collins didn't make the long scene with her, he deserved to spend the rest of his dumb ass life in the freak out factory. Like, she was outa' sight, baby.
"Then, the other giggled, and the one called Lois, I think, said, 'dig it. I can hardly wait to glom their faces.' That's all. At least all I can remember. Oh! Oh yes. One of them did say something about she would be glad when someone or the other, she didn't use a man's name, just initials, laid some bread on them. The other two agreed with her, then they left." She opened her eyes, sighed deeply, and looked inquiringly at us.
"J.B.! Is that the initials they used J.B.?" I blurted.
"Yes!" Tina answered immediately. "That's it. J.B. Those are the initials they used. How did you know?"
Holly and I exchanged excited glances. Tina had done it. She had given us the first real solid connection. We both knew now for sure that we were on the right track. Now if we could just find the fucking train, we'd be shittin' in the uptown crapper. We were both so enthusiastic now we were almost rabid.
"Baby! You're the greatest," I exploded.
"Right on," seconded Holly. "You've been of invaluable help. It's impossible for us to express our appreciation."
Tina smiled brightly. It was the kinda' smile that made a guy go all soft inside. You know what I mean, right? Ya' go all soft inside, but at the same time, you get kinda' hard in certain places. Like, between the legs. Oouuuu! I was gettin' the stones again. Quickly, my mind went to Wanda. I couldn't help worrying. I asked Tina if I could use her telephone. She quickly nodded.
First, I called my pad. No answer. Glancing at my watch, I knew that she would be at work now. I called the club. They said she had called in sick. Now I was really worried. Nervously, I dialed her number. She picked up on the second ring.
"'lo," her deep, sexy voice said.
"Wanda? Where th' fuck you been? I been tryin' to get you all day." My anxiety spilled over into my voice.
"Liar! Asshole!" she yelled back. "You been out gettin' your goddamn ashes hauled, that's what you been doin'. Now I guess you think all you gotta' do is call me, and everything will be jus' ducky! Fuck you!" She slammed the receiver down.
I grinned to myself. Everything was all right. I would have to lay some pretty good shit on her, but she would come around without too much trouble. Also, I was relieved that she hadn't gone to the club. Dizzy broad. But, that's the way broads are. When they're hot, they'll burn the piss outa' ya'. But when they turn cold-brrrr! Enough to freeze the balls offa' brass monkey. Thinkin' about the fun I'd have warming Wanda up, I felt a stirring inside. I was in a hurry now. I went back to the living room.
Holly was standing. He was ready too. Good. Tina was saying something about Holly helping Collins, and he agreed. Promising to let her know what developed, and telling her to call us immediately if she remembered anything else, we left.
Tina bathed us again in the genuine warmth of her dazzling smile. I felt all tight inside again. Man, she was some broad. Collins would really have to be nuts to let that chick get away from him. I didn't give a good fuck if she did have 'Made in Japan' stamped all over her. She was the most woman I'd seen in a long, long time. Once we got in the car I pumped Holly about it.
"Face it, John. She's all she. Even Collins admitted that he balled the shit outa' her for a couple of days. He couldn't tell the difference then, and would have never known if he hadn't accidently discovered it right?"
I nodded my head in agreement, again thinking what it would feel like to have those long, gorgeous, legs wrapped around me.
"And just look at her," Holly went on. "How many chicks you ever seen that came even close to her? Also, she's pretty well hung up on Collins. Chemistry, I guess. Made me promise that I'd go by to see him, and try to talk him into calling her. Said tell him that she was ready and waitin' anytime. Now tell me, Johnny, baby. How would you like to have something like that just glowin' all over for you to put the blocks to her? Huh?"
I only nodded my head in answer, staring dreamily out the window. I couldn't help thinking that Tina and Collins would work things out all right between them. Like Holly said. The guy banged her real good for a coupla' days, didn't know the diff. So, that meant it had to all be in his head. Yea! That's it. All in his noggin! Maybe the shrinks could rewire his thinker, and then they would be groovy again. Honestly, I hoped so.
Yep! That Tina was some kinda' groovy bird. The broad from Queens had it all. Like, man, a guy meets a broad like that only once in a lifetime. If ya' blow it, you just don' get no second chance. Flipping my fag out the window, watching it arch behind us, I silently wished Collins would see what kinda' deal he was fuckin' up. Leaning back, I nostalgically watched a far off subway train as it rattled toward the city. Man! The broad from Queens had been really somethin'. Like, I wouldn'a' missed it fer anything. I let my thoughts turn to the gold mine of information she'd given us. It would be a gold mine; that is if we could just figure it out.
I thought about the pieces to the puzzle. They still didn't make sense. But at least Holly was convinced that J.B. was some how mixed up in the deal. I glanced at him. Man, he was really way out. I could tell that Tina's information had really blown his mind. But, like me, he couldn't make heads nor tails of the pieces. It seemed that the more we learned, the less we knew. It was maddening.
"Any ideas?" I asked, intruding on his solitude.
"Nope!" he answered, shaking his head slowly. "Gonna' call the rest of the guys in tomorra'. Like to have you there. We can put it all on the table, kick it 'round, see what comes out. Might come up with something. Might not. You in?"
"Yea. I'll be there. What time?"
"Ten, sharp. Where you wann' be dropped?"
"Back at my car will be O.K. Got holda' Wanda. She's a little uptight, but I figure a little pole will fix her up." I grinned. Holly grinned back.
"You're a no good bastard, ya' know that Johnny?" Holly laughed.
I grinned broadly. He was right you know. Wanda had been right too. I had been getting my ashes hauled. I thought about Shirley. At first I felt good. But there was something about her that bothered me somehow. I had a vague, uneasy feeling. Like, something just didn't fit somehow. I shivered, and tried to shake off the feeling. But it just wouldn't go away. I thought about Tina. I was warm.
CHAPTER SIX - HOW TO HANDLE BROADS
I paused briefly outside Wanda's door. I could hear the Stereo going. It was classical. Shit! That meant Wanda was really pissed. She only played that stuff when she had her bowels in an uproar. I'd have to play it cool. Real cool.
Using my key, I eased the door open. She wasn't in the living room. Quietly I closed the door and headed for the bedroom. I didn't make it. The ashtray came sailing right through the open bedroom door. A string of vile, dirty words followed close behind. They would peel your eyeballs if I put them down here. What? You want to know anyway? O.K. They're your eyeballs. I ducked just in time, and the ashtray shattered noisily against the wall.
"You dirty, shit-eatin', no good, lousy, cocksucker," Wanda yelled, reaching for a perfume bottle. I was glad to see she wasn't as shook up as I had thought. I neatly dodged the Chanel number sixty-nine, but the picture frame nicked me on the arm.
"Bastard! Pimp! You useless bag of cow shit! You after birth of a Afghanistan gang-bang, you!" Wanda screeched, reaching for a jar of cold cream. "Ya gonna be back early, are ya? Ya gonna see me soon, huh? Liar! Shit head! Dick-licker!" The jar headed in my direction, and without waiting to see if it found its mark, she groped for another one.
Well, I could tell right off that she was a little upset, but luckily it wasn't as bad as I had thought. When she was really fucked up upstairs, she hurled "syphilitic scumbag" at me.
Wanda was clad in loose, flowing, oriental pajamas. Her big tits flopped as she bounced around, looking for more ammunition. I steadily moved in on her. As she turned, grabbing for another bottle, I gathered her up in my arms and dumped her on the bed. She was face down, and fell kicking and twisting. All the while Wanda was casting grave doubts as to my mothers sexual preferences, and my own capabilities, except with various animals.
My cock was pressed against her soft ass. It felt good. I felt my meat growing. The more she twisted, the bigger my joint got. I knew she would be able to feel it pressing against her ass. She was bucking like a mare in heat. I ground my dick into her. Her harsh, angry breathing became deeper, more passionate. She was gettin the message all right. I grinned at her.
"Son-of-a-bitch!" she yelled. "Get the fuck off me. Jus' 'cause ya got yer meat up, don' t'ink yer gonna shove it in me." She kicked her feet helplessly, although not as fervently as before. "Go ram it up that whore ya been fuckin' 'round with all day." Reaching behind her, she tried to get her hand in my hair. I dodged.
"Baby," I soothed, grinding my hips. "Ya got it all wrong. I ain't been with no other broad. Honest! With Holly. That's where I been. Really. We been workin' on that caper I tol' ya about. I tried to call you all day. No good fuckin' phone company got the lines all fulla dog shit. Couldn't get ya. Honest, baby. It's the truth. Ya don' believe me? As' Holly. Go on. Call him. He'll tell ya. Been wit' him all day. Go on. Call." I punctuated the last by thrusting my granite hard dick firmly between the cheeks of her ass, the bottom side wedging itself in place.
Wanda still squirmed. But with less conviction than before. Like all dames, she would get her ass all outa kilter once in a while, shit in her soup, then bitch 'cause it smelled. When broads get like that, ya gotta humor 'em. You know. Play up to 'em. Make 'em think ya been creamin' in yer jean for their box. If ya don't, well they're likely to throw a hammer-lock on your balls, and cut off your fuckin' daddy-o. Dig it? Amen!
"Yea? He's nothin' but another meal for a shit eatin' dog," Wanda yelped, trying to buck me off again. I held on tight, She was ranning outa steam. I let go of one of her arms, reached under and grabbed her by the tit. I kneaded it steadily. If I had done everything right, she should start with the bawlin' bit next. After that, it would only be a matter of time before I would be ramming it into her. Broads! Ya just hadda know how to handle 'em.
"Oh, Johnny. Why do ya treat me like this?" Wanda wailed. Yep! I was on the right track. A couple of sobs shook her.
"Baby, baby, baby," I whispered hotly in her ear. "It's all in yer head. I dig you the most. You know that. Don' ya? I mean, who gets all my meat? You! You don't think for a minute that I could pound the hell outa you like I do, then fuck 'round with some other dame too. Do ya?" I dry humped her, hard.
Several more sobs wracked her. She fidgeted a little, although not enough to even mention. I was home free. Jus' hadda get her legs open was all. Once I poured the pole to her, she would be all peaches an' cream. Mostly cream. Letting go of her other arm, I began tugging at her PJ bottoms, at the same time continuing with my pitch. That was the trouble with dames sometimes. Ya hadda pitch to 'em, even when ya was tired.
"I mean, remember th' time I took ya on a ride onu' Staten Island ferry? Ya think I take any other cunt ... er, I mean broad, onu' ferryboat ride? Huh? Do ya? Tell me. Ya think all I gotta do all day is run around ridin' the fuckin' ferry?" Her struggles were so light now that I couldn't tell if she was fightin' or agreein'. Almost fucked up though, Gotta watch that. One thing. No cunt likes to be called a cunt. Broad, bird, pussy, bitch, even whore. But not cunt. Cuz, maybe, but not cunt. Daffy, eh? But that's the way dames are.
You can bat one right in the kisser with your whang so long as ya say I love ya while you're doin' it. Ya can shit right on their pointed little heads, so long's ya tell 'em what a nice hairdo they got. Ya can even stick an umbrella up their asses and open it, so long's ya tell 'em ya bought it jus' for them. Daffy! That's what dames are. But let's face it, man, you ever find anything any better to fuck? So, you gotta put up with it.
Man, like there's a moral here if ya jus' dig it. How many times ya seen cruds what aren't fit to lick shit off a cows ass, swingin' with all the pussy they can cram into their beds, while some straight cat winds up pumpin' his pud? Huh? Like, if ya make the Village scene, how many times ya see some old cat, like thirty, maybe even thirty five, diddy-boppin' downa' street with some groovy puss? Cool man. Like that cats got the secret man. He knows where the cows shit, and don' step in none. It's all in how ya handle a dame. That's all.
You gotta make them think their shit don' stink, even when it does. You gotta make 'em think they are the greatest thing since pot, and twice as potent. Ya gotta make 'em think the sun rises in their cunt, and sets in their ass, and that you worship Ra. That's where it's at baby. But, some cats jus' don' dig the action. I mean, like the cat that swings with all the meat. He knows. The pud pumper? He jus' don' believe, baby. So, let him pump his damn pud till the mother falls off. Who cares? If he's too fuckin' stupid to groove in, that's his tough shit.
By now Wanda was whimpering steady. She had stopped fighting completely, and was diggin' my hard. I had her PJ's down over her hips. Her white, creamy flesh sparkled up at me. I had her nipple between my thumb and forefinger, really jazzin' it up good. It wouldn't take long. I threw her my fast ball.
"I mean, Jesus, baby. Here I been breakin' my fuckin' balls all day, an' for what? Jus' so's I can take some other broad ona' fuckin' Staten Island ferry? Your happy ass. Bet ya even forgot that I even paid the nickel. Huh? Didn' ya? Come on. Admit it. Ya forgot that, didn' ya? Ha! I fought so."
I stopped humping into her, pretending to get angry. That's the way ya gotta play it, baby. Cool. Ya play it right, an' ya can make a bird believe that black is white, shit smells good, and that mink coats are bad for their health. It was time to drop my slider in on her.
"'Nother thing, 'member last winter? I had that cold? Didn't I get up outa my death bed, an' take ya to look at them new dresses in Macy's window? Huh? Didn' I? An' now all you wanna do is hand me a ration of crap. Man! You're really sumptin, ya know that? I mean, like you really take the fuckin' bakery. A guy practically signs 'is own death warrant jus' so's ya can glom some rags inna window, an' do you 'predate it? Hell no. What do you do? Ya make him feel like a Republican at Harvard. Jeez!"
"Ohhhh, Johnny," She wailed, trying to turn around. "I'm sorry baby. Honest. I'm jus' a no good bitch. I don' deserve a guy like you. You oughta kick my ass from here to Brooklyn an' back. Waahhhhh!"
Didn't I tell ya? See? Jus' like sellin' the Empire State Building to a Texan. Hardly no effort at all. But, ya gotta stay cool baby. Cool!
By now Wanda was facing me, her cunt pressed against my fly. She wrapped her arms around me and tried to eat me alive. Now, if you ain't cool, ya would make the mistake of groovin' right back at her. Bad scene baby. One thing ya jus' gotta understand. Cunt love to eat shit. They like it! They crave it. It's their bag, baby. As long as you keep a broad eatin' turds, she'll bounce up, kiss your ass, and beg for more. But, ya feed her steak, and baby, someday you're gonna come home and find some other cat fryin' your fish for ya. It's a fact. Like I toF ya. Who th' fuck can figger broads?
"Oh, Johnny baby! Why do ya put up with a dumb fuckin' cunt like me?" I knew I was in real solid now. Any time a cunt calls herself a cunt, ya know that the only thing she wouldn't do for ya would be to vote for Spiro Who? But, let's face it man, that's a lot to ask of anyone. Even a cunt.
"Honest, honey. I don' know what gets in me sometimes. It's like my head gets all fucked up, and I can' see right. Any broad would flip to have you prongin' her steady. I guess maybe that's why I get all squirrelly sometimes. I know that those fuckin' cunts would do 'most anythin' to get you porkin' their bacon for 'em. Ohhhh, Johnny, baby. I jus' love ya so fuckin' much I can' stan' the idea of some other cunt gettin' ya. I'd rather see ya with the sweet mother cut off firs'."
Her hand was workin' my zipper by now. She rammed her tongue in my mouth. Shit, she tasted good. I really dig Wanda. Like, there is pussy, and then there is pussy-pussy. Take Shirley. Now she's just plain good fuckin' type pussy. But Wanda, well dad, she's what the fuck it's all about, baby. Like, she rides me, rolls me, reams me, and when I think I'm dead, brings me back to life. Like, Wow! That little bundle of joy is outa sight, baby. The heat of her hand made me groan. I started tonguing her back. She was spreadin' 'em; kicking off her PJ's at the same time. My whack-a-doo pressed against her hot, naked, flesh. The head was touching her soft, curly tufts. Keerist! She was already wet, and the dp of my dong almost spit on her when it felt the hot moisture.
Then her legs were up over my shoulders, locked around my neck. I was driving deep into her, reveling in the burning wetness. She groaned loudly. I kept right on power housing it into her; until I felt the tip hit bottom. Jeez, but I love to fuck her cunt.
I settled into a slow, steady, pumping motion; driving my whang as far in as it would go, then pulling it almost all the way out. She would squeel when she thought I was going to pull it all the way out. I raised up on my arms, looking down into her face. Shit! Man, like this is what it's all about. Dig?
"Oh yes, Johnny! That's it. Fuck it to me, baby. Ooooo"
"Ya like it, doll? Ya really dig me prongin' ya?"
"Oouuuuu, baby, yea! Deeper Johnny! Ram it in me harder."
"Umuph ... Aahhh ... grruu ... sweet shit, Wanda, you got good pussy, baby."
"It's all yours baby. Fuck it! Bang it! Tear it up, Johnny. It's all your honey. Fuck me! Fuck the shit outa' me honey. Oooooo! Aughhh! Harder, baby! Faster! Oooo! I'm gonna come. Eeiiii! Oooo! Gaaa! Geee! Uhhhh! Ouuuu!"
The chick wrapped herself around me so fuckin' tight I thought she was gonna croak me. She bit into my neck, dug her nails into my fuckin' ass; an 'all the while she was rammin' it up to me like she was goin' nuts.
Wanda's one hell of a hot piece, man. Like, she boots one off in a hurry, but don' slow down a bit. That first 'un is just a warmer-upper. The bitch's cunt gets hotter'n a oven after that. She tightens it up and shit, baby, ya think your gonna blow right outa your mind.
I rammed it into her as hard as I could. I was hot as hell myself now. The velvety softness of her box massaged my joint. The harder I pronged her, the wider she spread her legs. I couldn't help grinnin' as I saw that her toes were touchin' the bed above her head. She had her eyes shut tight, and her breathin was hard. Keerist! That cunt sure liked gettin' the blocks put to her.
I was ready myself now. My foam bubble over, spilling out into her. I was jabbin' it to her like ninety. When the first wad jetted into her, she moaned sonorously, clasping me to her.
"Shoot it in me! Come, baby. Fill me up honey. Ooooo!"
Man, you better believe I tried. I pounded away at that pussy like there wasn't another one around for a hundred miles. My gism just kept on spurting. I thought I was gonna tear my fuckin' insides out, I was comin' so much.
Wanda was milking my pole for all she was worth. When I rammed it in her, she would tighten so hard I suspired painfully. When I would try to retrieve it, it felt like somebody had slammed a door on it.
Then I felt her booting another one, and she was yellin', screamin', cryin', and beggin' me to never stop fuckin' her hole. Dad, you better believe that right then, the last thing I ever wanted to do was stop polin' her. It's a fuckin' shame that a guy can' just fuck twenty-four hours a day.
I ached all over. I'd been prongin 'her for over an hour. I'd been exhausted when I'd come in. Only reason I'd even bothered to see her that night was because I was a little worried about her. But once I eyeballed that form of hers ...!
Finally, I was jus' too fucking tired to move. I collapsed onto my side, heaving for air. My dong came outa her with a squishy sound. Wanda yelped her disapproval. Grabbing my root, she held it upright, at the same time straddling me. The only thing Wanda liked better than gettin' fucked ... was gettin' fucked 'bout twenty times. As hot as her pussy was, my cock was hard again almost instantly. She rode it like it was a fuckin' hobby horse. Shit! I was goin' outa my freaked out gourd.
I felt my semen building up again. This time when it cascaded out in her, my balls hurt. I musta come at least seven, eight times. Only a cunt like Wanda could get that kinda mileage outa me.
Satiated at last, Wanda lay beside me. She snuggled close, her hand holding my flaccid flesh, like if she let it go, it might get lost. Sighing happily, she nuzzled my neck.
"Honey?" she whispered softly. "Yea," I answered sleepily.
"I'm sorry. I'll be a better broad from now on. Hones'. Only, don' fuck no other broads. Promise me. Say, 'baby, I promise I won' put the pole to no other cunt, but you.' Say it Johnny. Please!"
I said it. All right. So it sounded stupid as hell. You think I'da got any rest if I don' make like a parrot? Huh? When a broad gets somethin' on her head, it's like, there jus' ain't no rest for nobody until she gets it off. That's jus' where it's at man. Even after she got her plumbin' fixed, she still ain't gonna believe that I don' fuck no other broad but her. Dames are like that. They jus' naturally don' trust a guy. Daffy, ain't it?
I slept. Like a bowery bum. I wake up the next morning with Wanda makin' like a cannibal. Man, she's mouthin' my meat marvelously. Like I said earlier. There ain't nobody can give a blow job like Wanda. I look down and she's bobbin' up and down like a cork off the East River Pier. One look, and pow! I'm off like a rocket.
I put both hands on her head, holding her down. She gobbles up my come like it's bacon and eggs on the plate. After the night before, my nuts hurt like crazy when I blasted off. Shit! I realized that I hadda start kinda slowin' down. I'd heard of guys that was old at twenty-five ... just from bustin' their rocks too often. Hard to believe ain't it?
After she finished me off, Wanda looked at me with that look of hers. You know the one. The, 'that oughta hold ya 'til ya get home, you horny, double-crossing, stud, you.' Broads. Ya jus' gotta 'member that they jus' naturally don' trust a guy. Even after ya make like a parrot and promise you ain't gonna bake no bread in nobody else's oven. Daffy! All dames are daffy.
The warm, satisfying way I felt right then however, made me forget about that though. Wanda was some kinda somethin' else, all right. Outa' sight, baby. Strictly up front. I was lucky. Broads like her don' come around every day. So, I figured it was worth puttin' up with all her bullshit. Still, I did kinda wish she'd learn to trust me.
I glanced at my watch. Eight-thirty. I remembered that I had promised Holly to be there at ten. I had to go by the office first too. George, you know. The poor emotional slob got his sinus's all spooked up if I didn't check in in the morning. Humph! George, and dames. Both of them. All fucked up and daffy.
My mind turned to the caper. I rethought everything that had happened so far. Crescent scar, Eddie, J.B., Ellen, Lois, the guys that had got busted in the crappers, the party, the cameraman, Janet, the dude with the whip, only a coupla days left ... the whole bit. The whole deal was just like broads. Daffy!
After I had shit, shaved, and showered, gulped down a cup of Wanda's lousy coffee, and patted her on the ass, I headed for the office. On the way down, I made up a story for the first edition. So what if it was phony as hell. So was half the other shit in that rag. George would never know the difference. The bastard thought Little Red Riding Hood was a serialized crime story for the morning edition. He never had tumbled to the fact that it was the story of a horny cat from the Bronx with cunnilingus on the brain. Stupid fucker.
And for any other stupid fuckers who don't dig cunnilingus ... that's Brooklynese for "eatin pussy." The reason it started there was because that's all they know how to do in Brooklyn. It ain't because they don' have no whang. They got one all right. It's jus' that if they forget to take their magnifying glass and tweezers along on a date, the chicks outa luck. No kiddin'!
Balled a chick one night. She tol' me about a guy she'd been with the night before. He was from Brooklyn. She said when his whomper got hard it looked tike a cigarette ... half smoked. But man, she said that cat could flat dive for that muff. Outa sight, baby. I kinda suspected George was from Brooklyn. Hadda remember to check the Hall of Records on that one.
Ah well. You know what they say in Brooklyn. "Show me a married cat that don' dive for the muff, an' I'll swipe his girl!" The more I thought about it, I was just sure George was from Brooklyn.
I parked the heap, waved at Joe Decker, a fellow slave, and headed for the elevator. I kinda hoped Shirley would be on it. She wasn't. It was a dull ride to the seventh floor.
George's resonant voice greeted me as I stepped off the lift.
"Bartley!" he howled. Gosh. He seemed a little outa tune this morning. I'd heard diving for muff fucked up a cats vocal chords. No doubt about it. George was from Brooklyn all right.
"Relax chief," I calmly intoned, parking my ass on the edge of his desk. That always made ol' George uptight when one of the guys parked his can on the waste basket he called a desk.
"Get yer crummy ass offa my desk," George bellowed. Since I had other fish to fry, and didn't wanna waste no more time around the sweat factory than I had to, I obeyed.
"All right! What kinda shit ya gonna hand me this morning. Ya got lost, right? Or, a cop gave ya a ticket. Huh? Or, maybe ya gonna pull the one about yer poor ol' granny bein' on her death bed inna hospital? Huh? Yer ass. Yer granny's still rollin' drunks down on the big "B," and sleepin' in phone boot's. Bartley! Yer wit'outa doubt the lousiest, lyin'iest, no good, double-dealin', sorriest excuse for a newspaper reporter I ever seen."
It always choked me up when I realized how fond Georgie boy was of me. Really gets ya, don' it? Right inna bread basket.
"Chief, I would like to sit around here all day shootin' th' shit with ya, an' all, but I gotta write my story. Big one. 'bout the raid. Ya know? The one las' night."
That turned the trick. George's earbones perked up like cocks' in a two dollar whore house. Naturally he didn't know. Because there hadn't been no raid las' night. Except in my head. But ol' George didn't know that. I had 'im hooked. Now to reel him in.
"What raid? Where? When? About what? How come ya don' call in? How come ya don't give it to rewrite? What da' fucks goin' on aroun' here?"
Like I said before. George is the emotional type. With the questions. Always with the questions. But, that's the way it is in the newspaper game. Ya always gotta make with the questions. Daffy, ain't it? The whole fuckin' worlds daffy.
"Look, chief. Ya want I should sit aroun' here battin' my chopper with you, or that I should go peck-peck like a good little news hound? Huh? Ya want I should do that?"
That's the only way to handle it with George. Give him back the questions. Fast. It always fucks up his think tank. That's the kinda guy he is. He goes around dishin' it out, but he just can't take it.
"Yea, yea, yea!" George bleated. "Dat's it. Ya do dat. Yea. Ya do it Barttybaby. Let it all hang out."
See? Like I said. Fucks his think tank all up. Like, the cat's gettin' AC, but his DCs goin' in reverse. If I'da let 'im, he'da sat aroun' all day mumblin' like that. Too bad. I just patted him on his bald pate and headed for my desk. I still wasn't quite sure what kinda shit I was gonna feed to the press room. Hadda be careful though.Ya can' use nobodys real name. I already had a handy list of addresses of vacant buildings. That was always safe. Now just to think up somethin' screwy. You know. The kinda stuff that always convinces the "League" that the City ain't nothin' but a trash heap of depraved degenerates.
I banged out the story fast. I had the cops raidin' a gay joint, and the fags tossin' bags a shit out th' windows at 'em. That'd make the "League" real happy. I even threw in a bit about how the cops got their information from some unknown source, although an unidentified police spokesman, issued a veiled suggestion that the tip had come from a member of the "League." That outa hold the bastards for awhile.
I glanced over the routine assignment fist the copy boy dropped on my desk. Really squaresville man. Like, maybe you cats think all a reporter's got to do is run around prongin' puss. Naw! It ain't like that at all. Ya gotta go on what they call routine assignments. That's just another way of sayin' ya gotta bore yourself silly.
Mostly, it's conventions and such. Every reporter's gotta make at least one of these clam bakes each day, in addition to doin' the really important things. Like prongin' puss. It's just one of the necessary evils connected to pickin' up your ducat each week.
My list for the rest of the week was almost enough to make me cry. First, there was a convention of the Baptist Preachers of the Western Hemisphere. Groovy. That was gonna zing around town for three days. Outa sight.
Then, I hadda interview some clown who claimed he'd invented a nonlethal poisonous gas. One whiff, and you dreamed you were from Brooklyn. Crazy man. Personally, I think I preferred ol' Adolfs KB2. More humane.
Then, to round things out, I hadda talk to some dame who'd broke into flicks by peelin' for the Cyclop. Seems she had come to the conclusion that nudity in films was breakin' down the moral fiber of our country. Honest! That's what the silly bitch had piped out onna TV.
The odds were that the cuz was probably hornier than a bitch dog in heat. Pure nympho. I glanced at her publicity pic. Not too bad. That might not turn out to be too bad an assignment. I mean, like, ya gotta take the good with the depraved.
Stuffing my assignment sheet in my pocket, I picked up my story and headed for the copy room. Usually I just gave it to a copy boy, but I'd been promising myself to have a look at a mousy haired little sash that had just started there. Coupla the guys had put out the word that she was Les, in retaliation for her not puttin' out for 'em. That's how ya gotta handle 'em. She'd come around too. Real quick. Guys say now she hits it like a two dollar whore, and gives ya fifty cents change.
I spotted her right away. Her moniker was Mona. Not too bad, if ya liked 'em short, and kinda skinny. She didn't have much in boobs though. That made me kinda disappointed. I mean, after all, a guys gotta have something to hold onto.
I'd pretty well recovered from the night before. My whang got right up there. It was stickin' our real good in front. I sidled over near her desk. My fly was about eye level with her, and I could tell she was glomin' my meat outa the corner of her eye. I grinned to myself. Cunt. They were all alike. They would give ya the hearts and flowers bit about savin' it for a rainy day. Then, give 'em one look at a proper brick-bat and all of a sudden they swear it's a typhoon outside.
Behind the copy room, besides the composing room, was a crapper. It was supposed to be for the broads. But more pussy was split in that place than there was in a Forty-second street movie house.
"Hi! I'm Johnny. I'm one of the gazetteers 'round here. You're new ain't ya?" I gave her the dazzly.
Mona glanced up from what she had been doing, and pretended that she'd just noticed me. Cute. She wasn't gonna win no beauty contests, but a guy wouldn't get sick lookin' at her either. She smiled back at me.
"Yes. My name's Mona. I just started a week ago."
When Mona straightened up, I saw that she had bigger titties than I'd first thought. She wasn't no Sophia Loren. But everything over a mouthful was wasted anyway. I liked the way she blinked her eyes. Kinda big, innocent like. Sexy.
"Yeah, well, tell ya what Mona. How's for givin' me a hand in the file room. Gotta look up some research. For a story."
Yea! I was gonna do some research all right. But on her. Mona was a pretty sharp chick. She dug what was happenin' right away. Blinkin' those baby blues of hers, she smiled prettily, got up, and headed for the back. I watched her cute little ass as she wiggled around the cluttered desks. Nice. Real nice. Charlie, the Composing Room Head, grinned at me as I passed his desk. He was an all right cat. Did his job, was good at it, and never took himself too serious. Top drawer guy. Right up front.
"Which file do you think it will be in?" Mona asked tranquilly. She looked cute, and kinda bubbly. She was gonna be all right. The broad knew I was gonna pole her, but she was goin' along with the bit. Just like a real trooper.
"Let's try that one there," I said, indicating one on the top. That way she'd have to reach a little, and I could help her. Yea.
Mona stretched herself to her full length, and could just barely touch the file drawer handle. Her lithe form was pulled taut. I moved in behind her, pressing her against the file cabinet. My dong pressed relentlessly into her soft, yielding ass. The warmth of her body aroused the shit outa me. She was nice all right.
"Let me help you," I murmured into her ear. She hummed a little as my meat pressed against her butt. I gently rotated my hips. She pushed herself back against me. Yea, she was gonna be all right. Just fine.
Pushing against her rear like that, I thought about Wanda. Last night I had thought about running my rod up her ass. Wanda didn't really dig that too much, and I had been so hot to trot that I'd decided not to make the effort. But this cuz seemed to be digging what I was doing. It had been a while since I'd cornholed a chick. With the right one, it was way out, man. Dig?
I moved right in. No sense wasting precious time. I didn't have too much. I didn't wanna be late seeing Holly. Dropping my hands to her hips, I massaged them sensuously. Mona sighed, pressing herself against my flesh even harder.
"Why Johnny," she cooed. "I thought you wanted to do some research ... in the files I mean."
I pulled her skirt up over her hips. Her white, nylon panties were full of youthful exuberance. What was inside of them that is. She tightened the muscles in her ass, squeezing the cheeks together. Man, she was some kinda hot cunt. She would be just fine.
"Yea, baby. I'm goin' do some research ... in your file."
She giggled, wiggling her ass. I liked the way she sounded. Warm, cuddly, excited. My other hand found her right tit. It was small, like I'd expected, but the nipple was soft, large. I teased it to life. It quickly sprang up hard, taut, pointed. Maybe Mona didn't have much in the knocker department, but what she did have was all hers, and all teeming sex. My joint was throbbing.
"Ohhhhh. That feels good. But wouldn't it be more fun if I turned around. So you can get at my business end?"
"I'm at your business end," I answered hotly. This little quail really had my motor running. The more I thought about running it up her backside, the better I liked the idea.
Mona got the idea in a hurry. She stopped squirming. It was obvious that she had thought I was just gonna fuck her, regular like. The idea of getting pole-axed in her back door hadn't really occurred to her. I couldn't tell for sure what her reaction was. Not that it really made a good fuck. But, sometimes it was nice to know what the cuz you were gettin' ready to put the blocks to was thinkin'.
"I ain't never done it like that," Mona said. Her voice was tight, a little frightened, uneasy. She wasn't gonna fight me about it, but on the other hand, she wasn't all that much in favor of it either. Mona was a good scout though. She was willin' to go along, even if she wasn't too sure about what it was gonna be like. I liked the bird. Really.
"Don't worry about that," I breathed in her ear, grinding my hips steadily into her ass. It's just' like gettin' it regular, only there ain't no chance of havin' no kid. I kneaded her tit furiously.
I could hear her gulp, breathe hard, then steel herself for what was to come. She reached behind her, grasped my cock, and began working it over. It didn't need much help though. It was ready for action just the way it was.
Her finger tips concentrated on the tip. I groaned, then whispered for her to take it out. She tried, but I had my fly pushed so hard against her nylon covered ass she couldn't reach the zipper. Reluctantly, I pulled back far enough for her to get to it. The sound of the zipper being worked sounded loud to me. I dry humped her harder.
The heat of Mona's hand made my whomper jump like crazy. She pulled it out, and the head was pressing against the taut fabric of her panties. I was almost shoving her drawers up her crack.
"Pull my panties down," she croaked hoarsely.
Grabbing the waistband with both hands, I quickly jerked them down around her thighs. The tip of my joint eased itself between the cheeks of her ass. She tried to bend over slightly, but the way I was holding onto her tit, she couldn't manage it. Repositioning myself, I allowed her to tilt forward slightly, never stopping the steady pressure of my dingus against her asshole. As she bent forward, the pointed arrow found entrance slowly to her bumhole. Mona groaned loudly, bent forward more, and spread her feet further apart. Yep! She was a good scout all right.
"It's gonna hurt," she protested weakly, her voice tight, strained, and a little frightened. I answered by pulling her into me even more, hunching down and ramming still more of my cock up her rearend. The bulging bulb finally popped through the wrinkled hole, quickly followed by three inches of shaft.
Mona squealed, began wiggling frantically, trying to dislodge me. I braced myself firmer, rammed my hips forward violently, and pulled her back into me even harder. More of my cock sank deeply into her ass, and she yelped clamorously. My hand shot to her mouth quickly, cupping over it, stiffing the cries she emitted.
"Mummmmm, Umughmmm, Oummmcummchm," she whimpered, as still more of my meat sliced into her virgin asshole. She was tight. Tight as hell. Man. She hadn't been bullshittin' when she'd said she hadn't been fucked in the ass before. My cock was hurtin' she was so close.
"Easy, baby, easy," I urged, grinding my hips sensuously. Once I had it in, I knew she would be all right. "Take it easy. When it's in, you'll be all right. Just relax, and let it go in. It'll be all right. You'll see. Jus' relax, and open yer legs a little more."
I had stopped pushing my dong into her. I kinda rocked back and forth then, lettin' her get used to the idea of havin' a cock up her ass. I let the shaft slide in and out about an inch, and as she got used to it, she stopped struggling so hard. Gradually I felt her muscles loosening, and she spread her feet further apart. I humped at her steadily, letting a little more sink in each time I drove forward. She groaned a little as more of it went in her, but she bent over more and more, spreading her legs as she did so. Glancing down, I saw that I had a little over half of my whang up her ass. Overcome, I drove hard at her.
Mona yelped shrilly. She tried to pull away from me, drawing her feet together, and grasping wildly at the filing cabinets. I held fast to her, not letting her get away.
"Relax! Take it easy, baby," I urgently whispered. "It'll be all right. Jus' let it go in natural like. It's all the way in already." The last was kinda a little white lie. Actually, I still had a good three inches to go. But by telling her that, I felt she would let herself go enough so that I wouldn't hurt her so much when I plowed it into her. What the hell. She was a nice kid. I didn't wanna hurt her no more than necessary.
"Oouuuu! It burns. Eeeeezzzzy! Shit. Man, you sure got some cock there. Don' ram me so hard, baby. Take it kinna slow until I get use' to it. That's it. Oouuuu!"
Mona was bent almost half over by now. Her cute little ass was wide open. I pumped into her steady. Takin' small, short, jabbing stabs at her, I lubed her good. She stopped flexing her ass muscles, and let it just ride in and out smoothly.
When I figured she was loose enough, I started easing the rest of my flesh into her. She hardly noticed. Not until I had all but the last inch. By then she'd figured out that I'd been puttin' her on, and she started backin' up again, tryin' to keep me from pouring the coal to her.
Deciding that the best thing to do would be jus' pound the whole column to her, I grabbed her tightly around the hips and slammed myself forward. I felt it sink in her the full length, until my hair was tickling her cheeks. Man, she squalled like a wounded cow.
"Yiiiiipppeeee!" she squealled, trying to pull herself away from my rod. I held fast to her, undulating steadily. Using fast, quick, jabbing motions I tried to get her used to having the prick up her ass. She squealled again, almost pulling a couple drawers outa the cabinet, and stood up on her tiptoes.
"Goddamn," she blurted. "Son-of-a-bitch, man. Take it easy, willya? Motherfucker, but that hurts. Easy! Oohhhh, I won't be able to shit for a week. Sonofa, sonofa, sonofabitch! That rod of yours is tearin' me open. Please, John ny. Pull it out a little. Huh? We can make it anyway, baby. Pull just a little out. Please! Oooouch!"
I could tell the chick was cryin' a little. What the fuck. She had been a good scout about the whole thing. I was so horny to pork a cunt up the back side I guess maybe I'd forgotten that my pole wasn't exactly a pencil. I eased offa her a bit. She stopped squirming so much, breathing hard. I reached my hand around her hips, found her clit, and began massaging it. It was firm, hard, and out-thrust. She was plenty worked up herself. The more I played with her, the more I kinda wished I'd fucked her the straight way. I had no doubt that she would be one hell of a good straight fuck.
But now that I already had my dingus up her shitter, I knew I would blow my load in her that way. No sense in tearin' her up though. I'd just sorta take it easy. I figured I'd plow a pretty deep furrow up her ass when I dropped my wad anyway.
"How's that? Better?" I breathed heavily. I was rockin' in and outa her steady, bein' careful not to plunge it all the way in. I could feel my come boilin' up inside, and reckoned it wouldn't take too much more before I spilled over.
"Ouuuu. Yea. 'at's better. A lit'le. It don' burn so much. Shitabrick. This's the first time I ever got cornholed. I didn't think it would hurt so bad. Maybe it's jus' cause you got such a bigg'n?" She rotated that cute little ass of hers, looking back over her shoulder at the same time. Smiling wanly, she said, "I sure would dig havin' it in my other hole."
"Yea. We'll have to make it that way sometimes too." I played with her clit faster keeping time with the steady in and out motion I had settled into. I could hear her breathing getting deeper. I knew that it wouldn't be long before she started bootin' one too.
Man she was tight. I was concentrating on shovin' just enough of my cock in her to keep her heaving. Thoughts of the caper kept filtering into my head though. What was gonna happen in a couple of days? Who were the hallelujah boys? Damn but Mona felt good. She was moaning steadily now, and her legs opened still more.
Her clit felt like it was gonna pop right outa her. She was rotating herself on my finger faster now. I dipped two fingers into her cunt, at the same time massaging her now with my thumb. Still pounding away at her ass, I felt her lurch, heard her gasp, then felt her flooding all over my hand.
"Ohhhh, shit, baby. I'm comin'! Give it to me Johnny. Give it to me good. Ahhhhh!"
Mona began bobbing up and down, loudly moaning, and rotating her ass wildly. Just then I felt my own gism foam over. I spurted it into her hole, at the same time driving myself as deeply into her ass as I could. She yelled but held tightly, and we shot off together; pounding, bouncing, driving, sliding, twisting in a frenzy of emotional paroxyms.
My hand was covered with the wet, sticky goo of her come. I rammed my fingers deep into her pussy, at the same time I plowed my joint hard into her bowels. I pumped at her as fast as I could, insanely reaching for a climactic zenith that seemed just out of reach. Son-of-a-bitch, but Mona was some kinda good asshole fucking.
At last our passions cooled. I moved my dick in and out of her slowly, enjoying the warming aftermath. Simultaneously, I gently rubbed the still extend button of her clit, exciting low moans of satisfaction from her. Her head was touching the file cabinets, and she sighed contentedly.
"That was good doll," I whispered in her ear. "How does our asshole feel? All right?"
"O.K., I guess," she breathed back. "Shit. You've really got a pecker on you baby. You damned near ripped me open when you shot your load in me. If I hadn't been comin' so fast myself, I don't know if I coulda taken it. Ohhhhh, but it felt good."
"Yea, great. We'll have to get together again sometime. Soon. But, for right now, I gotta move it. Gotta appointment with a cop. Important."
Gently, I withdrew my meat. It made a sucking sound as it came out, and Mona kinda grunted. Taking my handkerchief outa my back pocket, I quickly wiped my dingus clean of the dark brown stain. It pouted redly at me. I grinned. Motherfucker, but I really had banged her ass a good one.
When my dick came out of her, Mona slumped against the cold metal of the filing cabinets, and just leaned there, heaving heavily. Gradually she got her equilibrium back, and straightened herself. Reaching down, she pulled her panties back up. She had turned around first though, and I got a good glimpse of the soft, light brown hairs surrounding her pussy. The lips had still been swollen open, and I could see evidence of her come on the insides of her thighs. I also knew that she would have my come running outa her ass before long. Man, I'd really dropped a slogg of juice in her.
Mona grinned at me. She held her skirt up over her hips for a minute, making sure I got a real good look at what she had to offer at the other end. I looked. Nice. I made a point to remember to get back around to her again. This time in her cunt. She was all right, that Mona. All right indeed.
I made as if to hand her my hanky, but it was all covered with brownish stains, and she declined. "I'll have to go to the can anyway," she smiled. "Man, when you prong a girl, you really let her know she's had something in her. Fuck. I can feel the stuff starting to run out all ready. Gotta run. Can't afford to fuck up this dress. My 'ol lady'd kick the crap outa me if I came home with pecker tracks all over my skirt. Don' forget where I'm at, Huh? Come around again. Soon."
With that she turned and headed for the crapper. I watched her go, admiring the way her cute little ass swayed. Yep. Mona had been kinda good fuckin' all right. I could hardly wait until I got the chance to prong her up the cunny-hole. She would probably be twice as good there. Just thinking about it made me start gettin' all warm inside. Shit. I'd have to hurry and get the fuck outa there or I'd be late.
As I left the copy room, heading for the elevators, Charlie grinned at me again, and winked. I winked back. Charlie was all right. Right up front. I wondered how much fuckin' he was givin' Mona. Probably a lot. That chick was probably gettin' fucked three, four times a day. Maybe even more. One fuckin' thing for sure. She digs it the most. It's nice to have something like that around. Kinda takes the edge off things. Dig?
Jumping on my horse, I headed for Holly. It was already a quarter till ten. I just made it. When I walked in the door, Holly glanced at the wall clock, nodded his approval that I was on time for once, and headed for one of the rooms in the back. I followed along close behind.
"Gotta sit in on another deal first," Holly mumbled. From the way he said it, I had no doubt that he wasn't exactly too happy 'bout it either. I waited for him to go on.
"'ts a stakeout. Mayor's orders."
"Yea! Big? Que me in."
Holly looked disgusted, looked around to make sure no one was listening and told me the deal.
"Ya know we gotta 'curb your dog' law in this town? Well, it seems some careless citizen disobeyed that law. And, right in front of His Honor's pad. He came rushing out this morning, smiling like hell for the TV boys, as usual, and Wham-o! He stepped right in it. Right in front of the camera too. Man, is he some kinda hot. Called the Cornish early, raisin' all kind'sa hell. Said he wanted a stake out, and didn't want it pulled out until the Comish had caught the John Bircher son-of-a-bitch that'd sabotaged his Press Conference. They say he had dog shit all over his shoes. Both 'em. Screamin' like a fuckin' banshee. So, we gotta put a stakeout around his place until we get whoever did it. Then, and only then, can we get back to the business of tracking down any petty criminals who go around knockin' people in the head for their bread. Makes sense, don't it?"
The sarcastic manner was something new for Holly. I'd known the cat for a pretty good while, and figured I knew him about as well as anyone. I'd never seen him like this, although I knew that he didn't exactly think His Honor should get the "Leadership of the Year" award. But he seemed positively bitter.
I sat through the briefing session for the stakeout. Holly looked glum. I guess maybe I really couldn't blame him though. It was pretty dull.
I let my mind wander. I thought hard about what little we knew about the caper. It still didn't make a fucking bit of sense, and for the life of me I couldn't figure out how J.B. was gonna make a buck outa the deal. But, just the same, I had to assume that he'd figured out some way. Otherwise, he just wouldn't be in on the deal.
And what Tina had told us. The crescent shaped scar. That stuck in my mind, laying there like a heavy weight. There was something about that. I'd seen something like that somewhere. But where? I wracked my brain like crazy.
And the bit about the hallelujah boys. That was significant but I couldn't figure out how. Fleeting bits of the conversation flitted through the fog of my concentration. I reflected on how carefully everything was planned and rehearsed on a deal like this. I'd seen it done a hundred times before. That was the key. Split second timing, and down to the last detail planning. It was the only way a perfectly executed plan could be carr ... "
Bonanza! I had it. Sure. It was so fucking simple. Every thing fell into place like coffee grounds settling in the bottom of a cup. Why hadn't I thought of it before. Hell, the whole damned thing had been right there in front of me all along. It was so simple that it was downright diabolical. Just something like only J.B. would dream up. There were still one or two holes, but the majority of the plan was there. Especially the crescent shaped scar. I remembered where I'd seen it before, and once I remembered that, everything else dropped right into place.
Shirley! I had been feeling uneasy about that ever since it had happened. Let's face it, dad. The whole thing had just been too fuckin' coincidental. The fact she'd dropped her drawers in a quick hurry hadn't been so much a surprise. But, her being there just at that time, and being so fucking willing to come along, had stuck in my craw.
I remembered now noticing the crescent shaped little mark on her ankle when I'd opened her up on top of the desk. I had almost said something about it, but right then I'd been too busy thinking about prongin' her puss. Later, I'd forgotten about it. Now the whole thing came through like seeing a city after a fog lifted.
I fumbled in my pocket, and withdrew the list It was there all right. And, I could see where the dough angle fit in too. It would be worth millions ... hundreds of millions even, if J.B. could pull it off. The camera man, the several happenings, everything. Now all I had to do was find out where they had set up their deal.
I glanced at Holly. He was looking even glummer. I got up, trying to attract his attention. I didn't succeed. I should have stuck around. But I was too excited. Now that I had the key, I had to find out if I was right. I even knew why Shirley had been siced on me. Ten to one said I'd find a bug at my pad if I started lookin. But, they hadda make damn sure I was where they could keep an eye on me while they made the plant. J.B was smart. If I had pulled off the caper like he'd told me to, that was fine. But, if I hadn't, he wanted to know about it. If I had though, he didn't want to get me worked up again by having me stumble onto a couple of his goons planting a snooper in my pad.
Deciding that I wouldn't be able to get Holly's attention, I dashed out of the room. I paused long enough to tell the guy at the desk to let Holly know I was chasing something hot. I started to leave a note, but was so excited I just couldn't sit still long enough. I had it. Goddamn it, I'd put the pieces together and they spelled R-A-T, in great big caps. And they all pointed to the crummiest rat of them all-J.B.
The first order of business would be to find Shirley. So far, she was my only direct link to the gang. I'd get the story out of her if I had to break her fuckin' ass open.
Consulting my "happiness manual" I got her address. I put in a quick call to the paper. Just as I figured. She wasn't there that day. I hadn't thought she would be. That close to the payoff day, she'd be at home either resting, or going over the plans for the big one. I could almost kiss His Honor, the phony fuck. If he hadn't stepped in that dog shit, I might never have tumbled to the meaning of the deal. Once I'd figured out why Purdy, and Collins, and all the others, the rest was easy.
In spite of myself, I had to admire the cocksucker. He was one shrewd bastard to have thought of a deal like this one. No wonder I hadn't been able to pin it down. No one, but I mean no one, would have tumbled onto it until it was all over with, and of course, by then, it would have been too late. Now all I had to do was get to their setup, confirm that the splicers, movie equipment, and all the rest was there. If it was, then I would know for sure that I'd pegged the deal right. If I had, J.B. would get time for this deal. That was for sure. He'd get at least thirty days, and maybe even more ... in spite of his connections.
I jumped in my heap, jammed the key in the ignition, and turned it on. Nothing happened. I turned it several more times. Still nothing. Not even a hum, a click, nothing. I couldn't figure out what it was. I wiggled the key around several times, but still no life. Hot under the ass, I got out and looked under the hood.
I got the answer to that mystery in a hurry too. Some dirty no good, chicken-fuckin', ass-kissin', shit-eatin', pudpumpin', dick-lickin', Mayor-lovin', sonofabitchin' cocksucker had stolen my goddamn battery, cables and all.
It was my own fault though. I knew better than to park my bus in front of the fuckin' fuzz house. Might as well put a sign on it sayin' 'come and get it!' Hell, sometimes they even stole the tires off the fuzzmobiles.
Casting grave doubts upon the ancestry of certain unknown persons, and fantasizing about gleefully forcing them to drink a pint of Chinese mustard, without a chaser, but mixed with a quart of caster oil, I took my life in my hands and indulged in that favorite New York past-time, when one wants to waste time, of trying to find a cab.
CHAPTER SEVEN - SHIRLEY'S PAD
I must have been living right. It only took me about twenty minutes to get a hack. Forty-five minutes later I was standing outside the upper West Side address Shirley had given me. I had no doubt that that part was real too. I'd checked it out with the paper. What the hell. It had been only one chance in a million that I'd have tumbled to her. In fact, without Tina's help, I probably never would have known. Good girl.
I searched the names over the buzzers in the foyer, until I finally found hers. I rang. No answer. I began to sweat. What if she wasn't home either? She was the only lead I had. I rang again, this time harder. My gut almost turned over when I heard the tell-tale click on the door. I grabbed it quickly and pulled it open. Someone was in her pad. I didn't know if it was her or not, but someone had pushed the buzzer to let me in. I took the stairs three at a time. She lived on the fourth floor, and I was breathing hard by the time I stood outside her door.
The door inched open, and I caught sight of her peering out through the narrow crack at me. Still heaving heavily from the climb, I grinned at her as best I could. It was important that I handle everything just right. One slip, and my whole fuckin' bag went down the shit bowl.
"Why Johnny," she said with genuine amazement. "What are you doing here?" She opened the door wider once she had recognized me, and I saw that she was in baby doll PJ's. Nice. She had real nice gams. I'd almost forgotten how nice she had been.
"Ju ... Just ha ... happ ... happen to be pa ... passing by," I lied trying to catch my breath. "Remembe ... bered your invitation to drop by sometime. Stopped by your hole at the paper, said you called in sick. Th ... Thought maybe I'd just drop by and see if you was all right." I made a move to step in. She stepped back, opening the door to admit me. So far, so good.
"Gee, that's sweet of ya Johnny. I was kinna feelin' under the weather this mornin', but I'm feelin' much better now. Come on in. How 'bout some coffee?" She smiled brightly, and I felt my guts tightening again. I remembered how she'd mouthed my joint that night on the fifth floor. I also remembered how she'd opened up real wide when I'd poured the mutton to her. Nice. Real nice.
"Yea. Soun's great. Coffee ... I mean," I answered, leering at her seminude form openly. Actually I was checking out her ankle. Yep. There it was. Big as life. The scar. I knew I was on the right subway now. Jus hadda make sure I didn' miss my stop.
Closing the door behind her, fastening the chain, which incidentally I was glad to see. That meant she was alone in the pad. That was important. I wanted some answers from this bitch, and I didn't want nobody around to queer the little talkathon I had planned for her.
Smiling again, she padded barefoot, into the kitchen. I flowed along behind her, admiring her dainty little ass. Yea, Shirley was nice all right. I couldn't help thinking about the guys she'd helped to ball in the crappers. Shit. 'Stead of complainin' the bastards shoulda been applaudin.' Lucky fuckers didn' know how good they'd had it.
My plan wasn't exactly fixed in my head yet. I had a vague idea of what I was gonna do. I knew one thing for sure. Shirley wouldn't come across with no info willingly. Not on your sweet ass, baby. She would be a hell of a lot more scared of J.B. and his goony boys than she would be of me. So, about the only thing I could do was force it out of her. But, at the same time, I hadda be careful too. Couldn't leave no marks or bruises; nothing like that. Of Holly would have my asshole for sure. He was kinda square 'bout that kinda crap.
I knew I wouldn't have too much trouble gettin' Shirley into th' sack. She'd be willing enough. I also remembered that she had been tight. Tight as hell. Now, like I said before. I ain't King Kong in the cock department, but I sure as hell ain't no midget either. If I broke her down like a shotgun, like I'd done with Wanda, more'n likely she wouldn't be able to take it, and might break. It was my only chance. Of course I'd have to sorta tie her up a little bit, but that didn't leave no traces. She might raise a lot of hell afterwards, but even Holly couldn't make a bust on that kinda info. He might not like it too much, but he couldn't do nothin' either.
Besides, I didn't really think there would be much chance of her squawkin' to loud anyway. After all, she was in this gig right up to her cute little twat. No. I didn't think she'd be too interested in makin' no real big noises about what happened. Her ass would be in the sling jus as much's mine. I grinned to myself. This would be one little job I was gonna kinda enjoy. She twitched her ass real cute like. Dumb broad. She didn't know I was gettin' ready to tear the shit outa that little box of hers.
"Gee. Was I surprised to see you," She said, putting a pot on the stove, and turning on the gas. "But, I can't exactly say I don't like the idea. It gets kinna lonesome, when you're home all day by yourself. Know what I mean?" She made my dick get hard the way she was making kinda oval rings with her lips. Yea. I still remembered all right. Top drawer. All the way.
"Yea, I know," I answered, my voice gettin' naturally husky. "I was thinkin' the' same thing. You all alone here, and everything. Thought maybe ya jus might want some company. Sorta thought I might rub ya down or somethin'." I stressed the "somethin" and she giggled. My dick got harder. Her gaze dropped to my fly, and the tip of her tongue flicked over her lips quickly. I figured she must be remembering too.
"Is ... did, I mean ya haven't had any problems or nothin' ... down there I mean," she hurried on quickly indicating my dong with her eyes. "I didn't know for sure if I really hurt ya or not. Did I?"
"Naw! Anyway, ya fixed it good. But, then ya never know when a guy might have a relapse. Thought maybe it needed another treatment sorta. Ya know, just to be safe, like." I leered at her tits, thrusting provocatively through her thin top. I could tell the nipples were hard. Yea, this cuz was hot stuff all right. Sure. She was doin' a job. But, is there anything in the rules that says a broad can't enjoy what she's doin'? Huh?
Shirley giggled, at the same time opening her feet wider apart. I could make out the dark patch between her legs clearly through the thin material. My rod was really up now, and my motor throttling on high. I might jus fuck her real good first, then get around to gettin' some answers. Maybe.
"I think that soun's like a good idea," she murmured, kinda low, and sexy like. "Jus to be onna safe side, of course." She winked at me, and opened her feet wider apart. Yea, man. This cuz was ready for action all right. Built for speed, she was.
I moved in on her then, pulling her to me, and cupping one of her tits with my hand. I kissed her, hard, jabbing my tongue between her lips. My other hand began brushing her cunt hair through the panty bottoms. She was wet. Real wet. My dingus was drawn for action. She started working on my fly.
Shirley was kinda in a hurry too. She damned near tore my shorts yanking my doodle out. Her hand felt good on it. She stroked it fondly. I moaned, kissing her harder. Yea. Maybe I'd plug her real good first, then get the dope. I pushed her back against the table. Her legs opened still wider.
I was probing at her bush. She was tryin' to guide it too. Then she pulled away from me. Her eyes were hot, wide, wild. Shit. This cunt was really somethin' else. She was like ready, Jack.
"Not here. The bed. Better. Take our time. Come on. This way," she breathed harshly. Yea, man. She was ready all right. Grabbin' my hand and handle at the same time, she headed out through the kitchen door. In the living room, she made a sharp right, dodged a lounging chair, and bore down on a half-open door off to the right a little bit. Oh, baby, but was this cuz ever hot.
Her bedroom looked like any other cuz's sandman castle. A few frilly dainties laying around, the bed unmade, and another partially open door revealed what was obviously a bathroom. The bed was perfect though. A four poster. My plan jelled then. Out of the corner of my eye, I picked out a partly open bureau drawer. I could see part of a nylon stocking hanging out. Just what I was looking for. Perfect.
She was tugging at my meat with urgency now. I'll tell the truth pal. I was feelin' kinda urgent myself. But, I knew that I had a job to do, and that the moral fiber of my country hung in the balance. You'll never know what effort it took for me to bring myself to concentrate on gettin' the job done that I'd come there to do. I mean, like, I oughta get a medal or something.
Turning her around, so that she couldn't see what I was doing, I rubbed it up against her ass. At the same time, I reached behind me with a free hand, and latched onto a pair of nylons. Just right. Then, maneuvering her toward the bed, I helped her start pullin' off her PJ's. Man, I'd forgotten just how groovy that chicks body was. Outa fuckin' sight, baby. I toyed with the idea of stuffin th' nylons in my pocket for a while. But duty called, and I answered the friggin thing.
"Oh yes, Johnny. Come on, baby. Shirley's all primed and ready for ya, baby. Come on, honey. Let's get it on," Shirley purred. Keerist! Whata dame. I almost hated doin' what I was gonna hafta do. But what's a guy gonna do?
She had my belt and pants undone by then. I stepped outa them. It'd be easier to work that way. Yea. Sure. 'Bout then the head of my dingus grazed her bush. I felt my resolve weaken. But, I swallowed hard, and frantically I worked one of the nylons into a loop with one hand. Ya think that's easy? Especially with about a hunnerd pounds of pure wildcat tuggin' at yer meat? Yer happy ass, Jackson.
Then she pulls me onto the bed. I fall on top of her heavily. My docker was between her legs. Sweet shit, but it felt good. I was tryin desperately now to get the other nylon looped. There. I had it. Now both of 'em were looped at one end, ready for use. Now, all I hadda do was get her in position. That wouldn't be as easy as it sounded either. Not the way she was buckin' and rarin' and carryin' on. Shit. The way she was actin' you'da thought the cunt hadn't gotten the blocks put to her since I'd poled her at the paper. Hell. Maybe she hadn't. She was sure a hot little piece of fuzz. Yea, man.
I slipped both stockings outa my pocket and pushed them to the head of the bed. I was careful that Shirley didn't see what I was doin'. She didn't. The cuz was so her up about gettin' her bush parted, sheVouldn'a noticed if I'da put my typewriter up there. It was a damn shame too. Here she was all set and ready, and I was gonna have to protect and guard my country's moral fiber. But, that's what being a newspaper man is. Guardin' and protectin' you lousy fuckers moral fiber. Jeez! There outa be a law.
I mean, after all that guardin' and protectin' a guy gets pretty tired. Ya know what I mean? A guy's gotta have somethin' to do, besides guard and protect you shitheads moral fibers. Ya outa give a guy a break every once in a while, and guard and protect your own fuckin' moral fiber. Ya listenin' Spiro, baby?
To take. Shirley's mind off a what I was gonna do, I reached down and slipped the pole to her. She wheezed her appreciation, opened her legs wide, and started clawin' at my back. I got hold of one of her hands, then the other. I unwrapped them from around me. While I easily sorta slipped my dick in and out of her cunt, at the same time I lined her wrists up. I figured she'd be too preoccupied with what was goin' on between her legs to pay any attention to what I was doin' with her hands. I was right.
Dextrously, I slipped first one, then the other stocking over her outstretched hands. She didn't even feel it. Now, came the tricky part. Tying the two loose ends to the bed posts, and at the same time, pulling them tight, securing her tightly. Man. She was sure gonna be one pissed off broad when she found out what I'd done. Hell. I sure hoped it wouldn't turn her against me. At least, not permanently.
I already had her right hand fastened, and the left one almost fixed, when she noticed that somethin' was wrong. I guess it was because I wasn't pumpin' her too enthusiastically. I mean, what the hell. Any broad is gonna get a" little suspicious when a guy ain't poundin' the piss outa her. Especially a broad like Shirley. Let's face it, dad. She was nothing but prime meat.
"Hey!" she protested. "What's goin' on? Whatcha doin'? Hey! How come ya got my hands tied like that. What the fuck is this?"
I could tell she was startin' to get a little bit pissed. How? Easy. She'd stopped bangin' her puss up at me. She was just sorta layin' there now, alternately tightening and loosening her cunt muscles. But with her, that was enough. Goddamn but that cunt had some good pussy. All I gotta say is I hope all you people out there appreciate my guardin' and protectin' your moral fiber like this for ya. I mean, like who else ya know that would do that? Huh?
Now, about now, some wise ass is gonna ask, "how ya guardin' an' protectin' me moral fiber, man?" Well, skippin' over the fact that whoever would ask such a question right now is probably from Brooklyn, I'll simply say that ya gotta take it on faith baby. I mean, like, I ain't got time to explain it right now. It all has to do with the despicable, depraved, demoralizing, diabolical plot that duty ol' dude, J.B., dreamed up. And, please, don't tell me ya ain't tumbled to it yet. I mean, like it's so simple.
Now that I'd made her suspicious, I knew I had to work fast. I wasn't sure how long those fuckin' stockin's would hold. Like, ya know how they make such shoddy goods nowa days, right? Besides. Now that I was this close, I figured things would start poppin, and movin' fast, baby. Real fast. I was right.
"Jus take it easy, babe," I said, yanking the knot tight. "I have a little game in mind. Somethin' new. Don' worry 'bout nothin'"
"Game? New game?" Shirley questioned, relaxing a little bit. That was all I needed. Just that second or two to finish up. Now. Everything was tight. I still had my cock in her deep. But, if things worked out, I planned on gettin' it in her a whole lot deeper. Yea! Lots and lots deeper. Oh, Wow!
"What kinda fuckin' game ya got in mind? I don' like this. What ya gotta have me all tied up for? Come on, Johnny. Let me loose. This ain't no good, baby. C'me on, now. Stop all this horseshit. Johnny! Johnny, you let me go, damn you."
"Easy Shirley. Easy. Like I said. I gotta new game for ya. No need to get excited. Jus relax baby. Everything gonna be jus peachy."
I grinned down at her. She looked sorta cute and cuddly when she was all shook up like that. I raised up on my hands, making sure my dingus didn't slip out. I eased first one, then the other arm under her legs, pushing them upward. Shirley struggled a little looking frantically over her head at her firmly trussed wrists.
"Aww, Johnny. Le's cut the crap, Huh? This ain't no way, baby. I mean, like when it gets goin' good, I like to kinda hold ya like. 'Member? Huh? 'Member how it was that night? Good, huh? But like this ... it ain't no good Johnny. So c'me on, let me go and we can get down to some real serious fuckin? O.K.? O.K. baby?"
I grinned at her even more. This was really gonna be some kinda fun. Yea, man. I shoved her legs up higher, and rammed my cock into her hard. She grunted. But she also started milkin' me a little harder. She dug it. Like, this chick flat out enjoyed her work. An' gettin' fucked was part of her job. Right?
"Like I said Shirley. I gotta new kinda game in mind. I wanna play. It ain't hard. It's called 'what's a double-crossin' cuz like Shirley doin' workin' for a crooked bastard like J.B.?" I punctuated the last by slamming my rod into her open puss as hard as I could. But she still wasn't open as wide as I want her to be. Still, she grimaced when the head banged deep inside of her.
"Ooooh! Johnny! You're hurtin' me, baby. Take it easy, huh? Whatcha mean? I don't know whatcha talkin' 'bout. Whose J...."
I slammed into her viciously again, cutting her off. She yelped this time. I had lifted her legs a little more, and my dong sunk another half-inch into the hot softness of her cunt.
"Eiiiee! Goddamn Johnny. Don't! Shit, baby. You're really hurtin' me with that thing. Ya ain't exactly got no ball-point pen there. C'me on baby. Don't. Please. Ooooohh!!"
I lifted her legs a little higher. Everything was working out accordin' to plan. Like I figured. Shirley was a hot little piece, but she had a small, sorta tight pussy. Oh, it was great ... for normal fuckin'. But the way I was splittin' her open, you couldn't exactly call it normal. I pumped into her hard. Three times. Real quick. This time she screamed real loud. I began worrying about her makin' too much noise, and some nosy neighbor callin' the fuzz.
"Yaauuugghh! Yiiiiiii! Aaughhhhhh! Oh shit Johnny. Goddamn, sonofabitch. You're kiUin' me. Don't do it no more. I, I, I'll do what ya want. But, hones' baby. I don't know what yer talkin' 'bout. Please, honey. Believe me. Motherfucker, that hurts honey. Whatcha doin' it for? Why ya wanna hurt me like this? I ain't never done nuthin' to you. 'Onest! Why ya wanna fuck poor Shirley's fucker up for? C'me on, baby. Don' do it no more. Le's jus' be friends, and I'll forge' all about this. O.K.? Huh?"
I answered her by pokin' her three more fast, quick, hard times. She yelped vociferously, and I lifted her legs still higher. Now her toes were almost touchin' the beds headboard. Man. Like crazy baby. Outa sight. Way, way, way outa sight.
"It's all up to you Shirley, baby," I chuckled. "Personally, I'm kinda diggin' this scene. Ya can stop it any time ya want. All ya gotta do is play the game." I pumped her again, driving my meat really deep into her cuz. Shit. I could feel the head almost probin' up into somethin' else inside her. I wondered what it was.
"Yiiiii," Shirley squealed. She pulled fiercely at her bonds. Luckily they held. I shoved her legs up still higher, until her toes were jus touchin the headboard. Then, gathering my knees up under her closer, giving me more leverage, I sneered down at her crookedly. I pulled a couple of inches out, then just kinda rocked back and forth a little. I pushed her legs a little wider open. She was a sharp bird. She knew what it would do to her if I pounded on into her when she was like that. For the first time I saw that there was real fear in her eyes. I must really be hurtin' her.
"Make it easy on yerself, cuz," I barked. "Ya got any idea what it's gonna feel like if I pork it to ya real hard the way I got ya split? Think about it baby. Think real hard." I moved my meat in and out of her threateningly, pulling up short each time just short of hurtin' her. I could see she was thinkin'. The look in her eyes was pure terror by now. I was really diggin' it man. Almost made me feel kinda like a dirty ol' man.
I started easin' it into her a little deeper. Her eyes kept gettin' wider. She was gulpin' real hard. She made a couple of desperate attempts to either free her hands, or get her legs down a little. Jus to discourage her, I let my rod jam deep into her pussy; although not all the way, or real hard. But it was enough to give her the idea that I was 'bout through fuckin' around.
"Ohhh! Johnny! Please, doll, Please.' I don' know nothin' I don' ... Ahhhhh! O.K. O.K.! Have it your way. But please! Don't shove it in me no more like that."
"What ya doin' for J.B.?" I demanded. "Johnny. Lis'en to me. You're too big for me Johnny. 'Specially like ya got me. Don' ram that thing in me Johnny. I can' take it. Jus lis'en to me Johnny. Like I toF ya, I don' know nothin'. I don't know no J.B. I don' ... Yeeeiii!"
I plowed it into her. Deep. Hard. I put all the weight in my body behind my hips and rammed straight into her cunt. I felt my joint sink in squishily, roughly, far. I felt the head drive into tight, close, soft flesh. I knew I had gone somewhere no one else had ever been before. And, from the way she screamed, she knew it too. I almost felt sorry for the cuz. What da fuck. She wouldn't be able to use that hole of hers for a while after this.
"Eeeiii! Auggg!" Shirley screeched over and over again. I just held steady, grinding my hips. The head of my dick almost felt like it was in a vise or somethin'. Shit! I was gettin' hurt almost as much as her.
"Out! P-p-pull it o-o-out! Please. Graa!"
Big tears were running down Shirley's cheeks now. I backed off a fraction of an inch, then gave her half a dozen short, sharp, quick jabs; rotating my hips crazily each time my joint rammed home.
"Ugh, Uhg, Hug," she gulped out, unable to catch her breath for another yell. "Egh, Umph, Egxn," Shirley panted, the tears flowing freely now, her eyes wide with pain, terror, burning agony.
Taking pity on her, and also not wanting her to pass out on me, I pulled my meat cleaver out three inches, at the same time letting her legs come down a little. A bellow of air rushed out of her, and then she gulped heartily; trying desperately to fill her achin lungs with fresh air. Man, I was really doin' a job on her.
"Oh God," she moaned. "Ya tore sompin, Johnny. I swear. Ya tore sompun in me. I can feel it. Oooooo! It burns like fire. Oh God! Please Johnny. Don' do it no more. No more. Please, baby. I can' stan' it. Oouuuu! Shit, baby. I'm on fire inside. Take it out, please. Don' ram me no more. Oh, Jesus, it hurts. Please. Please, Johnny, don'."
She was cryin' somethin' awful. I wouldn' really felt sorry for her except that I knew that if I didn't get the information only she had, now, I would be a dead motherfucker. Once she'd spilled her guts to me, she wouldn' worry 'bout lettin' J.B. know nothin'. Or, if she did, she wouldn' stick aroun' to find out what happened. I really was sorry I hadda fuck up her hole like this. But, there jus' wasn't no other way. It's a tough city, baby.
"'Tis up to you baby," I said easily, trying to control my voice. I was gettin' pretty worked up myself, and if I didn't get her to talk pretty soon, I wasn't gonna have a pole to pork her with ... not hard anyway. She was one hell of a good fuck, dad. That's for real.
"You jus tell me what I wanna know, and I finish ya off nice and easy like. No more hard prongin'. Ya don'? Well...." I trailed off. At the same time I raised her legs up high again, and began drawing my knees up under me. The look of unbelievable horror in her eyes really got to me. I was almos' hopin' to c'ris she'd talk. For her sake.
"No, no, no, no, Johnny. Not again. No. Not any more. I'll talk. Anything. Anything you say. Jus don' prong me no more. Jeeezusss! I burn real bad inside, Johnny. Don' do me no more. P-p-p-please, don'." She broke down into wracking sobs, her tear streaked face contorted in pain. I lowered her legs, lettin' my stick ride in and out easily, not deep enough to hurt her.
"Where's J.B.'s place?" I demanded. She looked at me, eyes red and moist. Before she had a chance to think, I started lifdn' her legs again. Hadda make it fast now. Already wasted enough time. Hadda get the answers-now.
"O.K., O.K., .OK.," she blurted out quickly. "I'll tell. Jut don' prong me again. O.K. Johnny? Promise ya won' prong me no more if I tell ya? Promise?"
"I promise. Now, quit stallin' and start talkin'. If I pop it to ya again, you ain't gonna feel much like doin' nothin'. Not for a long, long time ya ain't." I acted as if I was gonna lift her again. Once she started yappin', she wouldn' quit.
"East Side! Off Fifth! Semeny-six 'treet." She gave me an address. " 'Ts a l'tle camera shop. Downstairs. Set up inna back. Everythin's there. Don' Johnny! Don' prong me no more."
"Shut up," I snapped. "Now keep talkin'. What's the deal? What's J.B.'s gig in this deal? It's got somethin' to do with that Baptist Preachers Convention, right? How many's in on the deal? Come on. Talk. Talk, bitch, or I'll split ya open like a watermellon." I looked at her with what I hoped was a cruel, hard-hearted, expression. Shit man. It's kinda hard to look hard at a cuz when ya got meat in her up to yer balls. Try it some time. Ain't easy.
"Don' know everything. 'Onest! I'm tellin' th' truth. I only know what they toP me. We are suppose to bust some guys they point out to us. Karl. He's the shutterbug. Karl, he takes the flics. We only bust who they tell us to. Tomorra'. Tha's when we're suppose ta do it. Tomorra. Hotel. Don' know which one. 'Onest, Johnny. That's all I know. Nothin' else. Ya promise, Johnny. Ya promise ya won' pork me no more if I tell ya. I did Johnny. I toP ya all I know. Don', Johnny. Please don' prong me again. I can' stan' it, Johnny. 'Onest! Ya tore sumpin real bad when ya porked me. I can feel it."
She broke down into uncontrollable crying. I was sure she had been tellin' me the truth. She'd toP me about everything she knew. I kept at her though, hopin' she might remember somethin' else. I was pretty sure she wasn't gonna hoi' nothin' back. Not now. I'd done a pretty fuckin' good job of prongin her all right.Yea. She wouldn' hoi' nothin' back. Not now.
All the while I'd been movin' my dick in and outa her. Like I say before, baby, she's got some really top drawer pussy. I'd been so wrapped up on gettin' her to talk, I hadn't paid too much attention to how fuckin' good it was feelin'. But now, now that I was sure I'd gotten about all there was to get, I started noticin'. Yea. Like I started noticin' a whole lot.
"How many more in this wit' ya?" I demanded hoarsely, feelin' my foam boiling rapidly inside me. It wouldn't be long now before I wouldn't have nuthin', but nothin', to threaten her with. It was gettin' ready to blow ... and blow big. Keerist! I was more worked up than I'd thought. Ohhhhh, shit. It felt so good.
"I only know th' ones I toP ya 'bout. Sue Ann. Sue Ann's in it. An' Ellen. She's a redhead. She's in it. Then there's Cindy. Cindy Lou. She's in it too. She works at the club 'Red Rose' with yer girl, Wanda. They tried to get her to go along too, but she don' wanna. Says you'd kick the shit outa her. J.B. He got nervous when ya started snoopin' aroun'. Didn' know what ya knew. Didn' know if Wanda had toP ya or not. He didn' think so. Said she's too stupid to know wha' they was talkin' 'bout. Said, he don' think ya talk to her about wha' ya do. 'Onest! It's 'a truth, Johnny. I swear it."
Well I'll be a son-of-a-bitch. Here I been sleepin' with the fuckin' answer all along an' don' even know it. Wan da! The stupid fuggin' broad. J.B. was right. She'd been too fuggin' stupid to even realize what they was talkin' about. Only that they wanted her to bust some Johns. An' she knew I'd never go for that, so she says no. But she don' even think to tell me. No! Too fuggin' stupid. All she can think about is gettin' the blocks put to her, an' havin' me make like a fuggin' parrot cause she don' trust me. Now ain't that a ball buster? I ask ya? Ain't it?
"Who ya suppose to bust? For how much? Why? Where? Come on chick. Give!"
"I tol' ya Johnny. I swear. I tol' ya everythin' I know. We bust who they tell us to. J.B. He's gonna give us a grand apiece for the job. That's all. We got nothin' else ta do 'cept bust some Johns, make sure we kinna stand outa the way so Karl can get his flicks, then we blow. Tha's all. I swear it. Ya promise, Johnny. Ya promise ya don' pork me deep no more. I tol' ya everything. Everything."
The fuckin' cuz was gettin' hysterical on me. She was so goddamn scared I was gonna prong her again she was almos' outa her cork. I was sure now. She'd tol' me everything she knew. She didn't know who they were gonna bust, or where. Only approximately when. And, that was tomorrow. Jus' like I figured it. But I hadda confirm one more thing, then I'd be done. I was gonna have to hurry though. I was gonna foam over any second.
"The other guys? How come ya bust the other guys in the crappers? How come?"
"Prac'ice, Johnny. Prac'ice! So's we know what to do when 'a big 'un comes along. So's we know how 'ta stay outa Karl's way so he can get the right kinna pics. J.B. He said we wouldn' get no second chance when the big 'un c'me. Hadda be perfec'. No slipups. Hadda be jus' right So, we prac'ice. Each one 'a us goes out three times, maybe four if Karl ain't satisfied. Karl. He's da one that decided. He's da one hadda take da flicks. Said they gotta be jus' right, and we can' be inna way. Showed us how. Him and J.B. They showed us how."
"That was all? Nothin' else?" I hissed menacingly.
"All. Swear, Johnny. 'Ats all."
"O.K. I believe ya," I grunted just as I felt my sperm jettin' out the end of my joint into her cuz. Man I really started fuckin' away at her then, only I let her legs down so's I didn' plow into her so deep like before. This way, she was enjoyin' it. She still hurt, but not like before, an' not from my porkin' her like I was doin' now. Now, she started kinda fuckin me back, beggjn' me to put the pole to her. Like before. That night. It was nice. Yea. Real nice.
"Yes. Oh Yes. Like that Johnny. Oouuuu! That feels good. Not like the other way. Yes, baby, Yes, baby. Pole Shirley good, lover. Put it to her. Only, easy, baby. Not like 'efore. Easy. Shoot it in me doll. Tha's it. C'me in me, baby. Ouuuu!"
You better believe I did too. Shirley was good. Nice, nifty, tight, little cuz. Good fuckin stuff. Strictly built for speed ya understan'. Stricdy built for speed. My dick was spurtin' off like a run away fire hose. Man, I was really juicin' her cuz up proper. Shit. That Shirley was some real first class, top drawer fuckin'. Dig it man. Up front. All the way. I was really sorry I'd hadda fuck her up like I did. But from the way she was fuckin' me back, maybe I hadn' messed her up too bad after all. I kinda hoped so. She was a nice kid.
In fact, I felt her startin' to wrap herself around me tight like, with her legs. Yea. She was gonna get one off. She was gonna boot one from here to Jersey an' back. Yea, baby. Like I said. Top drawer stuff. I tried to help her as much as I could, drivin' in long, hard, an' steady. But with her legs down, it don' hurt her like before. Naw! She was diggin' the shit outa this. Fine, man. Fine.
"Yea, Johnny. Yea. 'Ats it. Fuck me baby. Oh yea, man. Ohhh! You got me, baby. Ya got me good. Fuck it, baby. I'm all yours. Fu ... f-f-f ... oh, o-o-o, I-I-I'm go, go ... go-oh, gonna c-c-come. I'm go-gonna come. Do me! I'm comiri Baby!"
Man, and she wasn't lyin' either. She was humpin' up at me like a tomcat with a turpentined asshole; only faster.
Now ain't that somethin' for ya. Here I jus' tore this cuz's hole up for her, and now she's beggin me to bust her good. Dames! They're all alike. Give 'em one good look at a stiff stoker, and they flip right out. Daffy. That's what dames are. Daffy.
CHAPTER EIGHT - J.B's SCHEME
After I finish puttin' the blocks to Shirley, I clean her up a little. There ain't no blood, so I know she ain't hurt too bad. But, I gotta leave her like she is, so's she don't tip off the mob, and I don't want some horny cop motherfucker to walk in and find her opened up like she's a Christmas package.
I put her panties back on, then find a pair of long PJ bottoms. She looks up at me sorta thankful like. Dames! Like I said, they're ah Daffy as hell. Sighing, I patted her on the tit, kissed her a quick one, and headed for the phone. She'd be lucky. Since she told me everything, she'd go free. Of course, I wouldn't tell under what circumstances she spilled the frijoles, and told her so. She looked at me the way a dog looks at its master. Whata ya gonna do, man? Huh? No one's ever found any better fuckin', so I guess we're just stuck. I hear that sheep deal up in Montana ain't what it was cracked up to be. Turned out to be propaganda put out by a guy from Brooklyn. Figures.
I called Holly. He wasn't in. The guy on the phone said they had a hot lead on the guy who'd let his dog shit on the Mayor's sidewalk, an' all the cops were out running him down. It figured.
I left a message for Holly. Told him where to find Shirley, and gave the address Shirley'd given me. Then I went out and started that all day sucker game again. Tryin' to find a hack in the friggin' city. I got lucky again. Got one in less than an hour. Guess I just must be living right. What with running around guarding and protecting everyone's moral fiber like I been doing. See! It does pay off.
While the cab snaked its way uptown, I thought about the rest of the things the guy at the station house had told me. It seems that at first reports it was thought the hound was a Chihuahua. But the lab boys did their tricks, and it turned out the culprit was a Wire Haired Poodle, with aggressive tendencies.
When they had thought it was a Chihuahua, His, Honor had decided to lead the hunt. But when the later reports came through, he'd decided to coordinate the attack from a central command post, from atop the Empire State building. After all, His Honor was too important a personage to take chances. His aides confirmed that.
The TV boys were probably there too. Shit. If I had any fucking sense, that's where I'd be too. After all, that was news, and all this running around, guarding and protecting the public moral fiber was just so much horseshit. His Honor confirmed that. But, I was stoically determined to do my duty. Besides, I wanted to get a look at them dirty pictures J.B. and Karl had taken.
Now don't get me wrong. It was all in the interest of guarding and protecting your moral fiber. After all, we wouldn't want any of them falling into the hands of you poor, innocent, uninformed, idiot members of the public, would we? Spiro Who? And Dicky-boy, too. Forbid. Ah well. All in a days work.
At last, and after circling Central Park three times, my friendly, courteous New York Taxi Driver pulled up in front of the address I'd given him. It was a couple of doors away from where Shirley had told me J.B. had set up.
"Dat'll be Nineteen-ninety-five, and don' forget de tip, bub," my Brooklynese cabbie sneered. So, I gave him his Nineteen-ninety-five, plus the customary one hundred and fifty percent tip. Then I began stalking my quary. I was hot on the trail, and dedicated in my mission to guard and protect the moral ... Awww! Fuck that shit. I jus' wanted to get a look at them duty pictures.
As I walked into the camera shop, a ninety-nine-year-old degenerate walked up to me. I was suspicious of him right off. I can tell a degenerate son-of-a-bitch two subway stops off.
"May I help you?" said the degenerate.
"Yea," I parted, thinking fast. "I'd like to see that." I pointed to something behind him. When the degenerate mother turned around to see what it was, I neatly Judo chopped him. As he sagged to the floor, trying to throw me off guard by mumbling something about being robbed, I whacked him another one. He was quiet.
Dragging him behind a counter, I headed for the back. Sure enough, just as Shirley had said, behind a curtained off doorway, I found a projector, screen, and several cans of film. A quick inspection revealed that there was no one else in the place. I threaded the machine, flipped it on, and watched the depraved drama unfold before me. Just as I had suspected. It was a trimmed, carefully edited version of one of the crapper busts. This particular one I didn't recognize. But I was shocked to find that everything that had happened to him had been expertly filmed.
The cameraman-editor-printer combination was a man of high skill. In fact, he was nothing short of expert. I had a new respect for this Karl guy. I figured he must have been the one I saw at J.B.'s degenerate party. Yea, the guy really knew what he was doing all right.
The face, body, and assorted parts of the victim stood out in bold relief, indelibly inscribed in living color. However, the facial features of his attackers had been adroitly faded out so that the viewer saw only a vague blur. It would make identification absolutely impossible. I had already figured that out too. But, of course, where the lips played a part in the action, they had been carefully preserved. Diabolically clever. Fiendish in its simplicity, and devastating in its effect.
No matter what else I might think of J.B., he was one hell of a shrewd bastard. Tricky too. After watching through the first reel, and in the interest of gathering evidence, I put on another reel. This time I recognized the star as none other than our Mr. Purdy. But, from what I saw on the film, it looked nothing like he had described it. By the time Karl had finished editing the damned thing, it almost looked like Mr. Purdy was cooperating, not struggling.
If his wife ever got a look at that flick, you goddamn well can bet she'd never believe his story about gettin' raped in the men's crapper. Of course, that's what it was all about in the first place. Mr. Purdy and the others weren't to be the victims. Just the Guinea pigs. But the same principle would apply to the intended victims. Devilishly clever. Definitely the product of a depraved, degenerate mind.
By the time I'd finished looking at five other reels, all in the interest of gathering evidence for the police of course, I began to get bored. Too bad that hadn't happened earlier.
"All right motherfucker! Lift 'em high."
At once I recognized the hard, cold voice of Eddie. He and Vito had snuck in while I'd been busy gathering evidence. The little old ninety-nine-year-old degenerate was standing beside them, rubbing the back of his neck. He glared at me.
"That's him. He's the one. Came in here, tricked me and while my back was turned, he clipped me," accused the angry little man, pointing a finger at me. Not only was he a degenerate, but he was also a fink.
"Think yer pretty smart, eh?" chortled Eddie. Beside him, also holding a mean looking gun, Vito sneered at me. "Well smart guy, it ain't gonna do ya no fuckin' good. We got ways of dealin' with people like you. Vito here. He likes takin' care of wise asses that don't know enough to mind dere own business. Don' 'cha Vito?" Vito's sneer broadened, and he took a step toward me.
"Yea. dats righ' Eddie. I likes tak'n care o' wise asses like dis fuckin' ree-porta' Fac', I knows jus' de place for his scrawny ass. Won' fin' him fo' two, maybe free years," Vito snarled.
"Hear dat, big shot reporter? Hear what Vito here wants ta do wi't ya? Huh? Ya like dat, ya wise cocksucker, ya?" Eddie was gettin' himself pretty worked up. He hadn't forgotten, I could see that.
"Now look you guys," I chimed in quickly. I hadda stall for time. No tellin' how long Holly might be tied up with his other caper. Even when he got back, if d take time before he got my "Urgent! Notify at Once" message. Maybe two, three hours. If they got it to him in a hurry. If not, he might not even get it 'til tomorrow. I was really in a fix.
"Shaddup, punk!" intoned Eddie, taking a threatening step in my direction. "When I wan' somethin' outa you, I'll slap it out. Unnderstan'?"
Eddie had thrust his face up against mine. His garlic flavored breath almost knocked me over, and as I fought for breath, I was unable to scold him for addressing a dedicated guardian and protector of the public moral fiber, in such a disrespectful manner. In short, I was almost ready to puke. These silly mothers would as soon kill my happy ass as look at it. Remembering what I'd pulled on him at the party, I realized that Eddie would do it sooner.
"Now, punk," Eddie spat at me. "How'd ya fin' dis place? Huh? C'me on, talk, or I'll wrap dis fuckin' jack 'round her fuckin wise ass head." With that, Eddie produced one of the meanest, biggest looking blackjacks I'd ever seen.
Deciding that my best bet would be to stall, and at the same time try to throw him off the track, I said, "Shirley told me."
"All right. Everyone freeze. Anyone even quivers in the wrong direction, and I'll blow his fucking brains all over the East River."
It was Holly. The son-of-a-bitch had made it after all. He was standing behind Eddie and Vito, his own gun pointed right at their backs. Man, let me tell you. I was never so glad to see anyone in my whole damned life. I coulda kissed the ugly bastard.
Eddie took one look behind him, spotted the two other cops, also with drawn guns, and dropped his own-on my toe. The bastard. Vito, also glomming the scene, followed Eddie's example and dropped his gun-also on my toe. Man, like I been tellin' you. It ain't easy bein' a dedicated guardian and protector of the public moral fiber. Shit. I hadn't even had a chance to cop one of those reels of dirty pictures before the cops showed up.
"All right. Suppose some one tells me what the hell's going on here," said Holly, his voice indicating complete bafflement.
"Like I tol' ya in my message Holly. This is the setup for the Crapper Caper. Everythings here. All the evidence." I indicated the projector, screen, and rolls of film with a sweeping gesture.
"What message," Holly asked, genuinely puzzled. Then with a pained expression he added, "You ain't been smoking that stuff again have ya, Johnny?"
"Ya mean ya didn't get my message?" I asked, equally puzzled.
"Nope," answered Holly, shaking his head.
"Then what the hell ya doin' here, not that it really matters. You probably just saved my life, that's all."
"Well, we was comin' back from the Great Dog Shit caper, when His Honor spots that car out there parked by a fire hydrant. He ordered us to tow it off, and I just came in here to use the phone. Some punk kids swiped the radio outa the car."
"Jeez!" I wheezed, feeling my knees getting weak. Actually I shouldn't have been too surprised. After all, once a depraved, degenerate, disspoiler of the public moral fiber, these arch fiends always move on to more serious crimes ... like parkin' in front of fire hydrants.
"O.K., O.K., so what's the pitch. Tell me what happened," Holly insisted. At the same time, he indicated for the other two policemen to take Eddie and Vito out to the car. I was glad to see them go. I hoped they'd get six months.
"Well, Holly, while I was sitting in on your briefing for the Great Dog Shit Caper it hit me. All those crimes we've been investigating have been nothing but practice runs. Gettin' ready for the pay-off. The real clue came when I realized where I'd seen the crescent shaped scar before." I lit a cigarette with trembling hands and went on with my explanation, which, of course, you have already figured out.
"Remember that night you called me, and said Tina, out in Queens had something to tell us?" Holly nodded.
"Well, just shortly before that, I'd been discussing something with a co-worker, and while we were talking I'd noticed that she had a slight crescent shaped scar on her ankle. Also, she'd made me a little suspicious by something she'd said."
"What'd she say? No?" Holly asked snidely. If it hadn't been for the fact that he'd just saved my life, I'd have left him up in the air. Instead, I pretended not to hear him.
"Anyway, later it all came back to me. Also, I got the last clue today at the office. It was a notice that there was gonna be a Baptist Preachers of the Western Hemisphere Convention in town tomorrow. That tied in perfectly with what Tina had told us. Also, I knew it was something that would appeal to J.B. It was perfect, and the Crapper Caper's tied in too."
"How," Holly inquired enigmatically.
"Simple, flatfoot. At the convention there would be over a thousand of the top Baptist preachers on this side of the globe. And, they would each have at least a hundred or more smaller churches under their direct supervision. Beginning to get the picture?"
Holly just shook his head, and leaning forward, sniffed at my breath, then said, "Ya sure you ain't been smokin' that stuff again?"
I hurried on. Holly was beginning to bug me.
"Well, flatfoot, a little simple arithmetic will tell you, even you, I might add, that one thou, times a big 'C is a hundred thou. Dig? I mean, ya even gettin a sniff of the caper yet?"
Disgusted, I hurried on again. I was getting pretty damned tired of this kinda bullshit. "Well, from the reels in those cans, you can see that what J.B. planned was to frame all them preachers. Yea. All of 'em. The whole friggin thou. He'd got himself an organization of 'bout thirty cuz, and they was all well trained. That's why we was gettin' so many complaints lately. They was really practicing up.
"Anyway, he was gonna take the flicks of them, doctor 'em up, or rather, have Karl do it, so that it would look like the preacher boys was having a little fun onna side."
"Then, with the phony photographic evidence to back him up, J.B. was gonna put the squeeze on the padres. Can ya figure it man? If he only demanded a lousy ten quid a week from each one of them, that amounts to over a cool million, baby. A cool, fuckin' million. Dig it now? Huh? And, let's face it. J.B. wasn't no lousy ten quid a week piker. Hell no. Why, the way he probably had it figured, this shake down racket was good for five, ten, maybe even fifteen mil a week. That, buddy boy is real dough. Right?"
At last Holly began nodding his head. I was finally getting through to him. Scratching the back of his head, he let out a low, long, whistle.
"It all sounds pretty good, Johnny. There's just one thing. What's to keep these preachers from squawking to us about this shake down? Huh? What happens if they blow the whistle?"
I shook my head in disgust. And, all along I'd thought Holly was a pretty sharp cop. No wonder J.B. was almost getting away with this caper.
"Holly, baby," I said patiently. "Can ya picture this for a minute, baby. I mean, ya gotta think of who yer talking about. Ya ain't talking about no ordinary mortals. Yer talking about big, bad, Baptist preachers, man."
"I mean, keeping in mind how uptight these cats are, can you just feature one of 'em going home, then standing up before his flock and saying; Friends! A funny thing happened to me while I was in the wicked City. I went back to my room, and these three beautiful cuz's flung me to the floor, unzipped me, and...."
Conclusion:
Well friends, Holly finally got another car, took Eddie and Vito to jail, and confiscated the evidence at the camera shop. Eddie and Vito? They got thirty days apiece ... for parking beside a fire hydrant. The rest of the charges were dropped due to lack of evidence.
J.B. skipped the country before we could get to him. I figure he'll lay low for a couple of months, until the heat's off then one day I'll pick up the paper and read where he's throwing another degenerate shindig, to which incidentally, I won't be invited.
Karl? He's teaching a class in creative filmmaking at one of the bigger colleges on a government grant. Actually I'm kinda glad it worked out that way. Ya just gotta admire a guy that's aces in what he does. Even if it's making dirty pictures. Right?
Purdy, the others, and the Baptist preachers all had a
"Come on, Holly. Think! Can ya really picture something like that. An' don' forget. This uptight preacher cat has got his even more uptight ol' lady to contend with. Tell me, Holly, baby. If you was in his shoes, what would you do? Huh?"
At last the logic of it began to filter through. Actually, ya can't be too hard on Holly. I mean, he ain't like been around like me. What with guarding and protecting the public moral fiber, I have got to see a lot of the country. Poor ol' Holly ain't got the same kinda opportunities.
Just then the two cops returned, their prisoners in tow. "I thought I tol' ya to put them creeps inna car," Holly said.
"We can't, Sarge," the big one said. "O.K. I'll bite. Why can't ya?"
"'Cause someone stole it," the smaller replied miserably. good time in the city, then went home and told their friends what a wicked, depraved, sinful town we have here. But they made sure to reserve a room again for next year before they left.
Collins and Tina? Well they finally got together, and Collins decided he'd start writing some good stuff. He called me, and said Tina was going to help him with it. The first day they worked like hell, but found they hadda stop several times to relieve themselves. At the end of the day, in the tradition of all the terrific fuck book writers, Collins put a fresh sheet in his typewriter, then headed it up, all ready to start work the next day. It said, "-page 2-."
Dom and Dr. Rubin. Well Dom passed his examinations, and is now on the staff at the hospital. Dr. Rubin decided that he would specialize in Nymphomanics, and last I heard was busily searching for some to cure.
And what about Wanda, Mona, and the rest of the girls? Well let me tell you about that. You see, after a long hard day of guarding and protecting the public moral fiber, and gathering evidence, I swung back to my pad for a little rest before picking my bird-that's Wanda-up at the club. Seems she always gets squirrelly as hell if I'm late.
Anyway, I goes into the pad, and just as I turned on the lights, Wham! I was flung to the floor and before I knew what had happened, my hands were tied behind my back. Stunned, I managed to turn over and saw that Sue Ann, the Gyrating Gyne from Georgia; Ellen, the tool-teasing redhead from J.B.'s party; and a petite little brunette I recognized as the girl on the stage, were all standing there staring at me. Also, Shirley, was with them, a cruel look on her face.
"Hey!" I shouted indignantly. "Whazza big fuckin' idea?"
"Well big shot reporter," began Ellen looking at me sexily as she swayed above me, "since you queered our deal with J.B. we figure you owe us something."
"Yea," chimed in Shirley. "Remember what you did to my cunt? Huh? Do ya, big daddy? Well, we decided to pay ya a little visit. Kinda even up the score."
I gulped hard. I was sure they were gonna castrate me. I knew that whatever they had in mind, it wouldn't do me much good. But it wasn't castration they had in mind. No! Something far more devilish. Meaner, even.
Kneeling beside me, and beginning to unbuckle and unzip me, Sue Ann said, purringly, "Since you like to use this thing so much. We decided that we'd just let you use it all you can ... maybe even a little more than you can."
"Whatcha mean?" I gasped.
"In short, lover boy," Ellen said, pulling her dress over her head. "We plan on giving you nothing but straight, nonstop, fucking from now until morning."
That didn't exactly sound like a fate worse than death to me, until Shirley explained it.
"After about fifteen times lover, you're gonna start gettin' kinda tender. After about twenty-five, down right sore. And, by the time we get around to fifty, you ain't gonna be able to use that pole of yours for at least a month afterwards. Get the picture?"
And so it was. What a terrible fate to befall on so dedicated a guardian and protector of the public moral fiber. They were right, too. By the time they had reached fifty, my pecker screamed every time it even heard the word pussy.
Of course, there ain't no man alive that can fuck fifty times in one night. But they had thought of that. Since there were four of them, two would hold my joint upright, while the third slid her pussy up and down over the head of my dick. It don' take too much of that kinda action to blow your mind, jack. And, the head is the action piece, daddy, and the rest is just along for the ride. By doing it that way, they could keep it up all night, and they did too. In fact they kept it up until almost noon the next day.
I thought about yelling, but they had thought about that too. While three of them worked my poker over, time and time and time and time and time and time and time again, the fourth one kept me from crying out. How? By making a Brooklynite outa me. Tha's right. For the whole fuckin night, and half the next day. Disgraceful ain't it.
While all this was going on, they informed me that they were going to keep on making the rounds of the crappers. Seems most of 'em had gotten some expense money from J.B. so none of them was really out anything. Even more important, they, and several of the others, had discovered that they got a terrific boot outa busting some poor, innocent guy in the men's crapper. Really turned them on, they said. Degenerates. All of 'em.
So take warning, the next time ya gotta go in the City. You never can tell when three of them will be laying for you. And if it happens, you can't say I didn't warn you.
While they were getting their revenge, the phone rang several times. I knew it would be Wanda. There was no chance she'd come over and rescue me. No. She'd just sit there by the phone getting madder and madder and more suspicious. That's the way it is with dames. They just naturally don't trust a guy.
But how pissed off ya think she's gonna be when she sees me with my dingus all wrapped up in vaseline and gauze, and I gotta tell her I can't use it for about a month? Ya think she's gonna believe what happened? Ya think she's gonna believe me when I say, "There was these three cuz, ya see, and they threw me down and...."
