While fictional in nature in most instances, the erotic incidents within this book are examples of human sexuality as it is at times practiced within contemporary society. As such this book is informative as well as entertaining to the fully adult reader.
The Editor
CHAPTER ONE.
The Mexican girl paused at the door of Barrington's bedroom only long enough to determine that he was still asleep and that he had an erection. She smiled and licked her full Latin lips, then quickly peeled off her wraparound skirt and shrugged out of her peasant blouse, baring young, full breasts to the early-morning sun. Quickly she stepped out of her plain cotton panties and kicked them away. She advanced on the bed.
Barrington sprawled there naked, tousled, sun-blond hair askew across his eyes, arms and legs akimbo. His penis throbbed slowly with the beating of his heart. It was turgid, the head swollen and deep red. Lightly the girl lowered herself to the big bed and took it in her hand, stroking gently. She lowered her head and the long dark hair splashed across the flatness of Barrington's belly. She kissed his belly and ran the tip of her tongue into his navel, then took his penis and raised it away from his body. She wet her lips and kissed the head of it, then watched him for a reaction. There was none. She licked at it tentatively, then opened her mouth wide and fit it over the head. Her cheeks compressed as she began to suck. A soft sight came from Barrington's open mouth. The girl moved her head lower, taking more of the staff between her lips, and continued her sucking as she rotated her head slowly, combining this with a measured, steady bobbing motion. Her hand went to his scrotum and caressed it.
Barrington's hips rose and fell once and as they did the girl opened her mouth wider, worked her head down until she could feel the head of his penis rubbing against the back of her throat. She began to suck harder and Barrington sighed again, but still did not awaken. She moved her lips up to the head again and began a series of little love-bites with her small white teeth.
Barrinton awoke and watched her with blue-gray eyes. He did not move immediately, and when he did it was to take his hand and push her all the way down on him again. He ran his fingers through her mass of hair, then moved his hand down her back and over the sleek curves of hip and buttock. She raised her head and took her mouth away.
"Ah, senor Jeff. You are awake!"
"I am awake, Carlotta. You waken me in a very pleasant way."
"You would like me to continue?"
"For a few minutes. Then maybe you would like to do something else."
"I would like to fuck. I like to fuck best early in the morning. But I will suck you until you come if you like."
"Just a little longer. Then lie down with me."
"As you wish." She went back to mouthing him, faster and harder now. Her hands traveled over his body, squeezing, testing, measuring. Her lips were wet and hot on his penis as finally she took her mouth from it and applied it to his balls. She opened her mouth wide and sucked them, running her tongue over them, nibbling lightly,
sending chills through Barrington's hard young body. Finally she stopped and wriggled herself up beside him, throwing a brown leg over his, taking his staff in her hand and guiding it to the opening in her body. "I am ready, and you are slippery."
Barrigton rolled over and mounted her, fitting himself between her welcoming thighs, feeling the young heat of her against his skin. He lowered himself onto her slowly, felt her take the head of his penis and guide it between the opened lips of her vagina. He knew Carlotta had not been a virgin since she was ten, a matter of five years now, but she was still tight. Even lubricated as he was with her saliva he had to work his way into her passage. She raised her hips, thrusting, helping him. Her hands went to his buttocks and pulled him down hard against her. She gasped when she had taken the whole length. She was much smaller than he, barely over five feet tall. She wriggled her behind and ground her mound upward, seeking the pressure of him against her clitoris. He began to pump her slowly, deeply, and she locked her legs around him and also her arms. Her fingers played on his back and her open mouth covered his deep chest with kisses.
"Oh, you fuck so good. Your cock fills my belly," she gasped. "Fuck me hard as you can!"
Barrington picked up the pace, driving into the hot, quivering flesh. He reached back and cupped her buttocks in a big hand, squeezing. He felt her teeth biting into the hard muscle of his shoulder as he began to rotate his hips and pound at her with all his weight.
He responded to her automatically, almost without emotion. He was not in love with this pretty little Mexican who cleaned his apartment and cooked for him, but he liked her very much. She liked to screw and it was a nice way to wake up, finding his cock in her mouth, so he screwed her and she was happy. She would have finished the blow job if he had wanted it that way, and not complained.
Now she was panting with greater urgency, clamping him with all her wiry young strength, and he knew she was close. He speeded up his strokes and arched his body so he could reach her mouth with his and drive his tongue between her lips. She caught it and sucked it, moaning deep in her throat. Then the little cries began and he knew she was making it. He pistoned into her and began to come himself. He tore his mouth from hers and gasped incoherent sounds as the sperm jetted from him and splashed against the walls of her vagina.
They lay for several minutes still entwined. Finally they unwrapped themselves. He picked up his clothes from a chair and went to the bathroom. She pulled on her panties, skirt and blouse and went into the kitchen to begin preparing his scrambled eggs and ham. He turned the shower on cold, which resulted in a lukewarm spray, and soaped himself thoroughly, then rinsed and dried himself with a rough towel. He put on shorts, a tee shirt and pair of faded jeans and went out to the dining room, where Carlotta had set a place for him. A tall glass of fruit juice waited and he downed it in one long draught, then lit a cigarette from a pack of Dominos on the table. He sat and smoked and waited for his breakfast.
As he ate, Carlotta cleaned the bedroom and made the bed. Then she busied herself in the kitchen, scrubbing pots and pans left over from the previous day's dinner. When she finished she left the- apartment, headed for the market several blocks away, where she would do the day's shopping.
Barrington smoked a second cigarette and prowled the place, thinking he should do some painting and then telling himself that the light wasn't right, and his mood wasn't right. He was in more of a surfing mood than painting mood this morning. He went to his telescope to glass the beach and the blue waters beyond it.
He saw the girl first through the precise, powerful lens of the telescope, which was mounted on the balcony outside the living room of the apartment. The view angled out to the fishhook bit of bay that Ollas Altas makes. She was at least two miles north, entering the surf just below the two huge rocks - huge meaning they were about the size of a respectable three-story brown-stone in Boston - and she swam with powerful strokes. The glass told him only that she was at home in the water. But she did not know this water, or she would not have entered it where she did. She would need rescuing, but not immediately.
She would need it only when she decided it was time to come in. There was no reason to hurry. It would take her at least fifteen minutes to swim past the surf line, and out beyond that he could see half a dozen oystermen diving from their small boats.
If she got in trouble sooner than he expected, one of them might pluck her from the ocean and he could be spared the trouble. And the Mexicans would be glad to perform the service, because she was a blonde. In blondes, per se, he had little interest. In blondes with money he had a bit more. They had the type of flesh he occasionally found it necessary to feed upon. If he plucked her from the ocean she might, in gratitude, buy him a couple of drinks. She might, but in his experience girls were so embarrassed at the thought of being plucked out of something that was too much for them that they ran for cover once they had solid sand underneath their toes.
He took the stairs to the underground garage. He kicked and cursed life into his old pickup truck and while it was warming up he ran his fingers over the sleek surface of the surfboard which was casually dumped in the back end.
It took him only a few minutes to drive a-round the rim of the bay, skirting vendors who picked up a few pesos selling gimcracks made by the unwilling residents of the federal prison a few miles away, avoiding urchins with their trays of Chiclets or tales of virgin sister to rent, and finally calculate where he-she-they would probably come out of the surf. It was not an easy calculation, because the tide was on the ebb, which meant the undertow would be a bitch. He parked close to an unusually large palm, which would serve as a marker.
Barrington squinted at the blue-green mirror of the sea, picked her blonde head from the thousand of whitecaps. She was still swimming strongly, and that was good. It would take him at least a quarter-hour to get to where she was with the board and by then, of course, she would be someplace else. He off-loaded the board and began the tedious work of paddling out to her, straddling the plank.
It was tiring. There was no other way to describe it. Every time he tried to go under the curl of a wave the damn board jerked him up, into the current. He thought of letting the board go and rejected the idea because if he had to bring her in with no help he would need it. He wondered if anybody else had spotted her and was on the way. He doubted it. The Mexicans thought that anyone who tackled the surf of Ollas Altas had to be crazy and could be done without.
The first glimpse he had of her close-up showed him only the eyes. She was treading water and looking around for those two big rocks, and the eyes were angry because the rocks had moved a couple of miles to the north. The eyes were huge and dark, set wide apart over a nose which was a shade too aquiline to ever make her beautiful.
Barrington stayed clear and watched the panic take over, watched her find out for herself that she was in trouble. She had not spotted him yet. She was looking toward the cluster of loberster-men and oystermen at least a mile away. She tried a few strokes in their direction. Futile strokes. The current was going the other way. She didn't scream, and for this he was glad, because screaming never helps. This one, he saw, would save what wind and strength she had. He maneuvered the board alongside her, coming up from behind, and caught her by a long and shapely leg.
"If you'd like a ride, climb on."
"Jesus Christ! Where'd you come from?"
The huge eyes were openly amazed to spy any living creature, particularly one with a surfboard. She grabbed for it and he slid off, holding to the edge as she managed to throw a leg over it and get on.
"Call me a tourist from Tijuana," Barring-ton said. "Stick with the board as long as it rides steady, then wipe out and grab for me. I can get you back. But when it starts to get too fast, remember to dump the damn board before it tips you over and clouts whatever you use for a brain."
"What do I do when there's no board?" she demanded, her voice steady.
"Swim until hell won't have it. I promise you I'll be around. Now, go, girl!"
She went, not waiting for a big wave, just going, crouched low on the board. Barrington waited a few moments for a big hunk of water that would carry him all the way, picked up its surge with his body rigid, lungs full of air. He shot after her, wondering why anybody bothered with boards when the surf was so good with nothing but your body.
Probably the same reason men use rubbers and women diaphragms, he supposed. To be safe. Nobody really trusts the pill.
She was no surfer. She dumped the board out where the curl began, but not before looking around to see where he was. She went under and came up scraped and bleeding, flailing arms and legs and trying to get to him.
The board was heading south. It would wash up on shore sooner or later. Barrington rode the crest of the curl and allowed himself to be tumbled by the ocean, felt the abrasions of the beach before he stood in knee-deep surf as she flailed through the water almost at his feet. He helped her up. She seemed unaware of the fact that whatever she had been wearing for a bathing suit was a ninety-per-cent casualty.
"I was stupid for getting myself that far out. Thanks," she said in a breathless, husky voice. "Will you get your board back okay?"
"It usually finds* its way home." Barrington looked along the road that circled the bay. "I've got an old shirt in that pickup about three hundred yards down the beach. If you want to walk that far it will probably keep you from becoming the center of a sex riot."
"I've been here three weeks and haven't started one yet."
"You could. You have the built for it, as a Yiddisher friend of mine would say. And you're showing a hell of a lot of built."
She had a good mouth, wide and sensuous, and a firm jaw. She seemed unaware of her near-nudity. Her high, thrusting breasts were completely bare. Around her hips a scrap of cloth remained, not enough to cover the line of blonde pubic hair completely.
"Let's go find your shirt. I'll put it on and buy you a drink." She looked him over. "You're too pretty to risk your face doing something like you just did. You could have got it smashed on the bottom of this damn ocean."
"I swim here every day. And I'm not pretty. You are."
"Hah!" She snorted and grinned, showing too-prominent teeth. "I may have a built, but I've got a face like Adam's off ox."
"I'll accept the drink, but not the defense mechanism." His eyes moved over her. "I wish I'd met you some other way."
"Oh? How?" The big eyes were mocking him.
"Because if we wind up in bed I'll have a suspicion it's a payoff for rescuing you. Don't get me wrong. I like to screw. But not with girls who might owe me something, or think they do. You don't. I was going for a swim anyway."
"Say it all. You don't screw homely girls. And you don't seem like the kind who can stick the head in a sack and merrily fuck hell out of the body. I feel safe as a baby in a cradle with you, or some similar fox hockey. Let's go find that shirt."
They walked down to the pickup and Barring-ton watched her shrug her way into the shirt, then straighten her hair out with his comb. She might not win beauty contests but he had seen a lot worse. Obviously she had some hang-up on the plastic Miss America world. Barrington shrugged and drove the truck to where she had left her beach things. A touch of lipstick inproved her some.
"The Bacardi for a drink," she said. "I have a tab there."
"No. The Copa de Leche. They have a bartender who is trying to learn English. I talk to him in English. He replies in Spanish, of which I can always use a little more. We both learn something."
"You're too much. You must have a name."
"Barrington. That and a peso will buy you a beer. You?"
"Ellie. For Elaine. Farmer's daughter with a few miles on her."
"You've got to be kidding. Farmers don't send their daughters to Mexico for vacations. They don't have the loot."
"They do if what they raise is mostly oil wells." She bared the teeth in a grin. "And I wasn't sent. I just came. Old Dad screamed like a wounded eagle, but no more than that. He knew I'd either come here or take on every damn rigger on the ranch."
"Emancipated, huh?" From the corner of his eye he watched her get a cigarette going. "Your old man must be stupid. If I was in his position I'd blister your tail."
"The hell you would. You might get in two whacks on my bare bottom, and then you'd think maybe there was a better use for it. Voice of experience, Barrington."
"Experience is cheap - when your old man's paying."
"You can make bastardly noises when you try. Come on, push this rolling wreck to wherever we're going. You think this Copa whatever-it-is might have a Texas steak? I haven't had a steak for breakfast since I got to this godforsaken place."
"It's not so bad. The price is right and you can meet some interesting people." Barrington put the truck in gear and they bumped back to the thing that passed for a road. The swim had made him hungry again, and he had pleasanat visions of a steak. Large. Rare, with home fries, re-fried beans and a big wedge of apple pie. Unfortunately, during his stay in Mazatlan he had not been able to lay tooth to a single apple. They needed a colder climate. But if this wench had access to oil-well loot, and if she really wanted to get laid and not just talk about it, she might buy him a barrel of apples. He slid the truck into a place close by the Copa de Leche. "We eat."
"Damn it, Barrington!" She seemed aghast. "I'm not dressed for a place like this."
"So take the shirt off. You'll be a sensation." He grinned. "The shirt's been here before."
"You're not just impossible. You're insufferable!"
"I couldn't care less. Go find yourself a taco cart, Ellie."
He laughed and looked hard at her. She seemed almost pretty as a flush suffused her cheeks. She scrambled from the truck and followed him into the restaurant.
There was an inner patio, a free-form cluster of terrazzo around a reflecting pool, garnished with a small forest of tropical plantings. It was not a place frequented by the teeny-boppers and the hippies down from the States. The prices guaranteed that. From the street they could hear the tribal chants and snorting chariots of what Barrington, who was twenty-five, already thought of as the younger generation. He had spent only a few hours this vacation week in their roosting places, joints like the Boom-Boom and the Glory Hole. Going to the Glory Hole was for Barrington like going to the botanical gardens. Great if you liked pansies.
CHAPTER TWO.
Barrington had long ago concluded with some sadness that it was literally impossible for him to converse with anyone of either sex if that person was under twenty. It turned out Ellie was twenty-two and spoke the same archaic tongue he did. After the steaks were demolished they fit themselves more comfortably to the contours of their chairs and sipped a concoction which, so far as Barrington could learn, consisted of a coconut with most of its milk dumped out and replaced by several kinds of rum, all potent. They probed for little clues to each other, more comfortable now that their digestive juices had something to work on.
Without any suggestion of guilt or apology she told him again she represented oil money, Texas and Oklahoma oil money.
"There was plenty to ship me off to a series of Eastern schools to amputate my natural hay-shaker accent," she said. "And teach me what fork to use. There were seven of those schools and deep down I don't think it took a bit. I cuss fluently in four languages and when I happen to meet a man I like I go with him if that's what he wants. So much for finishing schools. You?"
"Nothing much," Barrington replied. "I inherited a few bucks three years ago, about the time I was starting to sell paintings for which I doubt anybody is ever going to pay more than three or four hundred dollars. I like Mexico, so I live and work here. I couldn't do as well in the States. I do the golf and tennis bit just well e-nough to circulate on the fringes of the people who think these are important things."
"Uh-huh." She shifted around as he lit cigarettes for both of them, drawing one long and well-bronzed leg up under the other. "And what are the important things?"
"Avoiding being devoured by our electronic, computerized, plastic world." He blew a smoke ring, watched it rise and dissipate. "That's why I like Mexico. They don't know that IBM and ICBM exist."
"They do in the bigger places. Guadalajara and Mexico City. I advise against them, Barrington." She grinned.
"This week I'm advising against Mazatlan. And thanking any god who happens to be listening that there are only a few days of the fertility rites left. May all the little tramps go home with seed in their bellies, and their young tigers find spirochetes in their sperm."
"Oh, what a bitter man."
"Not bitter. More like bored with brats, beer cans, busted bottles, rubbers on the sand and bongos." He crushed out his cigarette in the ceramic ashtray. "Only once this week have the teeny-boppers accomplished anything of merit."
"And that was?"
"Constructing an immense phallus and attaching it to the proper point on that nude statue of a giant warrier that is about half a mile down the beach. A true work of art. They stuck it on with that glue that's guaranteed to hold a pair of elephants together throughout eternity. The alcalde had to get soldiers to blast it loose with high explosive."
"I see." She laughed appreciatively. "You thought the phallus was an improvement on the native primitive art."
"It was more. It was a restoration." Barrington lit another cigarette. "When the statue was first erected, it had that member which is of great importance to man, particularly the Latin man. But there was a hue and cry. I think the padres and what passes for the local women's uplift society were largely responsible. It was knocked off without ceremony, and it is said the sculptor had to be restrained from dynamiting what was left of his creation."
"Interesting. The only interesting thing to happen in Mazatlan since I got here, and I had to miss it."
"Now there is an intriguing bit of sentence structure, Ellie-girl. I don't know whether you mean only that nothing of note has happened since your arrival, or that your arrival was the last previous happening."
"Good God, Barrington. I refuse to get into a semantics duel. Why don't you take me to see your etchings, or whatever else is around that might be lech-worthy?"
"I'll drive you by the statue, so you can see what you missed, and then to the quietest, safest apartment in Mazatlan."
"I don't think there's any such place." She shuddered. "I'm getting bitten fifty bucks a day for this place just out by the rocks, and all I can say for the peace and quiet is it's something like a cross between a Teamsters strike and a civil rights screw-in."
"My place is an oasis. I have the upper apartment. The deputy chief of the federal secret police for the district lives just below me. Nobody dares make noise but him."
They went by the statue, where her only comment was to the effect that it seemed to be in great pain, but this seemed only right, considering the amputation it had suffered.
His apartment was cool and dark, with thin bamboo curtains over the skylight and the windows which directly faced the sun. Carlotta was just going out again as they arrived.
"You didn't tell me you had a Lolita house pet," she said.
"You didn't ask. She's more maid than mistress."
"An often-made mistress, I suspect. In residence?"
"She lives out." He drew back the curtains, letting more light into the big living room. There were a few oils and watercolors on the walls which Barrington had been thinking of throwing out for some time, having convinced himself they said nothing and served no purpose than to cover spaces which would otherwise have been blank. They were street scenes, hillsides, a child pumping water, seascapes, fishermen, the market. "Sometimes I think nobody lives here."
"Sometimes I think worse than that about myself, Barrington. Sometimes I think nobody lives in me."
She took her time looking over the paintings, and wisely made no comment whatever on them.
Finally she did speak.
"Can you drop me by my motel?"
"Sure. Don't you want a beer here, or something?" he asked, meaning, Don't you tvant me to lay you?
"I have beer for us at my place."
The motel was actually a small apartment house, and he knew before she pointed it out which unit was hers. It had to be the one with the red-and-black Ferrari GT coupe parked in front. He slammed the pickup's door and the sound seemed unusually loud, like the old workhorse expressing a deep and envious opinion of such an example of conspicuous consumption as the red-and-black beauty. He followed her through an artificially-aged door.
"A beer, Barrinton? Something stronger?"
"Beer's fine. Anything stronger after that rum we had and my head would fall off."
"Don't. The Chamber of Commerce couldn't stand it, a caponized statue and a headless vanqui at the same time." She brought two bottles and frosted glasses from the refrigerator and poured. "I've just decided something. I'm leaving. Not going home. Just leaving."
"Now, or after you finish your beer?"
"Nobody likes a smartass, Barrington. That was your hint to talk me out of it."
"Impossible. If you want to go, you'll go. If you don't, you'll stay. My guess is you won't start packing until you've thought of a place that might offer something better." He puffed his cigarette. "But you'd like to hear a male make an impassioned plea for more of your company."
"God damn you!" She threw her glass at him and ran across the parquet floor and into the bedroom. In a moment his old shirt, or what was left of it, came flying out and she yelled, "Thanks for building up my female ego, you bastard!"
He drank the last of his beer. It hadn't been necessary to duck the thrown glass because she had not taken time to aim and it had gone by him by at least three feet. He went to the bedroom door and looked around. She was completely nude, lying face-down on the bed, and she was trying to hold back the intense sobs which were shaking her.
"Careful when you come out. There's busted glass."
She scrubbed her eyes with her knuckles and rolled over on her left side, baiting him with the magnificient body and doing it with fear showing in her eyes. The fear that a man would walk out of her life at a moment when she happened to need a man in the most primitive and vital way.
"Barringon . . . Barrington ... do you have anything else in the way of a name?"
"Jeff." He got another cigarette going.
"Jeff, stay with me. I need for you to stay with me." Unconsciously she had slipped into the Okie phrasing. The veneer of the finishing schools cracked easily at the first stress. "Pleasel"
He unbuttoned his shirt and kicked his sandals off as he approached the big bed. He could feel his penis getting hard.
"I'll stay, Ellie."
"I don't mean for just this time. I mean to be good for you and I want you to stay until it stops being good."
"Let's talk about that later."
He dropped his pants and shucked his shorts and stood by the bed for a moment, letting her eyes rove over his hard young body, take in the good musclature, the near-classic lines of it which could have made him a pro athlete if he'd been inclined to go that route. His penis was rigid, throbbing, standing out straight at an angle. It was long and thick and slightly curved to the left - he often wondered if that curve came from masturbating as much as he had when he was young.
Barrington let the strong brown arms pull him down to her, felt the wetness of tears on her face. He held her in a firm but gentle way, sliding his hands over the velvet pelt. Her breasts were wonderfully hot and full, firm to his caress, the nipples sharply outthrust, dark against the paler skin of the globes. There didn't seem to be an ounce of fat on her. She was sleek as a great jungle cat, and her eyes almost luminous in the dimness of the room. He kissed the tip of a breast and felt the pulsing of her heartbeat. It was steady but rapid. He moved his mouth to hers. Her lips were hot, wet velvet, her tongue a spear of slick fire as it met his and dueled. She took his tongue and sucked it deep into her mouth, pulling hard.
He let a hand trail over the rich curve of her hip and along her flank, then slowly moved it to the juncture of her thighs. Her pubic hair was soft and silky to his touch. With his index finger he parted the lips of her vagina, finding wetness and warmth. Her clitoris was hard, out-thrust, pulsing. She moaned softly at his touch and the urgency of her mouth on his increased. He moved his finger lower, found the entrance of her vagina and worked the finger in. Her body was incerdibly hot. She arched her back, thrusting her hips toward him, parted her legs. Her hand found his penis and moved up and down it in long, slow, measuring strokes, massaging the swollen head.
If Barrington hadn't had Carlotta earlier he would have been impatient, would have gone into her immediately. As it was he wanted to take his time, to savor this magnificent body. He took his mouth from hers and kissed the smooth column of her throat, gradually moved lower until his mouth was on her breast again. He sucked and nibbled the stalk of nipple, bringing little moans of delight from her. She thrashed on the bed and her stroking of him became more urgent.
"Put it in, Barrington. Please."
"In a hurry?" He smiled slightly.
"My God, I'm on fire."
"I'll put it in . . . don't worry. But let's make it last."
He shifted, pulling slightly away from her, and began kissing her belly in a circular pattern, flicking his tongue over her flesh, feeling the little tremors of her body. Slowly he raised one of her knees and kissed it, letting her feel teeth.
He moved so that her hand lost contact with his penis and arranged himself between her legs, lying on his stomach, with his feet hanging over the end of the bed. He began to kiss the insides of her thighs, slowly moving his head upward toward the golden mound with the pink slit in the center.
"Barrington . . . what are you doing?" Her voice was shaky and her hands trembled as they framed his face. "Barringtonl"
"I want to kiss it first."
"You don't have to. Just stick it in me!"
"I want to."
He got his hands under her buttocks and cupped them, raised them slightly. With his thumbs he parted the lips of her vagina. Then he put his mouth on it, kissing wetly, sucking hard, tonguing the clitoris. She sighed and parted her legs even wider, pulled his head down more firmly. He began a steady licking and nibbling that drove her into a near-frenzy. She bucked her pelvis up and down in a coital motion which he matched with the bobbing of his head. For a long time they continued this way until he felt her shudder and her fingers became like claws on his head, digging deep into his scalp. A great tremor shook her as she reached orgasm and she screamed softly.
Quickly he pulled himself between her legs the head of his penis seeking. She grabbed it in her hand and guided him. With a single lunge he sank his shaft to the hilt in her squirming flesh, bringing a long, drawn-out groan of ecstasy from her parted lips. He pumped her hard, grinding. She jerked her hips up to meet his strokes, moaning, muttering words he could not understand. Her legs wrapped around his body and held him tight. His chest was crushing down on the hot cones of her breasts and she was biting his shoulder.
Then as another scream began in her throat and she thrashed like a caught wild animal he reached his climax, spurting his juice deep into her body. He ground the base of his penis hard against her pelvis, so hard it almost brought him pain and he wondered how her sensitive clitoris could stand it. Then they fell back, sated. For a long time neither moved, until finally he shifted his weight off her and rolled on his side.
"Wow," she said softly. "Oh, wow, Barring-ten."
"You're good Ellie. Damn good."
"It was incredible. I came with just you eating me. Nobody's eaten me like that before."
"You're very edible. I don't meet many girls I really want to go down on."
"How did you know you wanted to do me like that?"
"I love your body. I wanted to taste it."
"You sure tasted it, friend. Want me to get us a couple of smokes?"
"Yeah. I could use one."
"Drink?"
"Not yet. I don't drink too much. It dulls the senses."
She lit cigarettes for them and they lay close together as they smoked. Barrington felt very peaceful inside, strangely. Then they slept in each other's arms. From time to time she squeezed him tight or threw a leg over him possessively.
Much of the time she had a hand on his genitals. The day passed and its heat gave way to the quick cool of night and finally he kissed her a-wake.
"I'd better be going," he told her.
"I thought maybe you'd want to stay." She rolled up on her knees and looked down on him. "I told you I didn't want it to be just once. God knows why, because I've certainly had my share of casual lays in the past and never blinked when they went out the door. But I want you some more, Barrington. Sleep with me tonight, at least."
"No. Not tonight. Tonight I have to be alone. I'll come by tomorrow. We can talk about us later."
"Why not now?"
"We might not say the right things now."
"Then make love to me again before you go."
"You exhausted me."
"Then let me make love to you." She bent over him quickly and took his penis in her mouth, rolling her tongue over the head, nibbling and sucking. "This is something I've never done with a man, but I want to do it with you."
"It will still be there tomorrow." He laughed softly. "You could work on it all night and only get a few drops out. Tomorrow I'll fill your mouth."
"You've made up your mind."
"Yes."
"All right then. Get dressed and go and come see me in the morning. Promise?"
"Promise." He bent to kiss her lightly. "Good night."
He returned to his apartment, where he slowly drank a bottle of Carta Blanca before showering and lying down on the big bed with his thoughts of Ellie. It was only then he realized he knew her by no other name. He tried to tell himself that it had been no different with her than it had been with perhaps a hundred other girls during the past six months. A pleasant interlude, a sharing of something that a male and a female with well-matched flesh and desires found necessary. And he knew this was not true. His flesh had not needed her. He had been only a couple of hours away from Carlotta, and the little Mexican had very efficiently hauled his ashes. And there was the way he had gone down on her. It was not his way. He usually had no urge to eat pussy. The times he did it it was usually just to get the girl worked up to the point where she would come quick with his prick in her and wouldn't wind up with that idea that he was a bum lay. But with Ellie it had been different, something he needed to do for himself rather than for her.
He thought of her money and wondered if deep in his subconscious that had something to do -with it - if he was, without knowing it, trying to line himself up with a rich broad. He doubted it. He had enough money to live comfortably in the casual way that fitted him, certainly enough to live well with prices of things as low as they were in Mexico. It cost him just about three hundred dollars a month for every thing - the apartment, Carlotta's salary, food, beer and rum, entertainment, running the truck, his art supplies. He had no family to worry about, had no one but himself. Hell, he thought, maybe I'm lonely and attracted to a girl who happens to be lonely too.
Unable to sleep, he pulled on his clothes, took a stiff hooker of rum and went downstairs to the apartment where Ramon Sanchez Morales, deputy chief of the Federal Secret Police, was having one of his interminable parties, a particularly noisy one. Barrington hoped the General wasn't there. The general was a tall, slender man with silver hair and mustache who came to visit Sanchez once a month or so. Barrington had never been able to quite figure out the arrangement. They were supposed to be secret police and they were as secret as Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade. Sanchez had a souped-up Ford with a red light and siren on it, and a Harley-Davidson motorcycle similarly equipped. So far as Barrington could understand, Sanchez rode in or on these vehicles and went out around the town and countryside like some kind of bandit. He brought back loot and split with the General. Whatever it was, it was none of his business, and as long as they left him alone he was content to do the same for them and keep his nose out of their business. Sanchez sometimes came upstairs, a fugitive from one of his own bashes, and sought the quiet comfort of Barrington's bed for a few hours of recuperation. Barrington occasionally sought out the policeman if he had reason to think somebody was putting the gouge on him. It was a casual and pleasant arrangement, as far as it went.
Now he pushed open Sanchez' door and look-
ed around. The apartment had the same floor plan as his own and it was jammed with bodies, predominantly female, all young, all sleek and beautiful as gook which comes in aerosol cans can make them. He saw with distaste that it was not an exclusively Mexican party. There were some teeny-boppers from Stateside who seemed to be happily on their way to getting drunk.
Sanchez was a lithe, compact man, good-looking in the Latin way. Now he had a brunette voluptuary bent across his knees and, without using his hands, was trying to untie the knots of her bikini bottom with his teeth. The bra already lay on the floor by his chair and the girl's breasts hung down over his legs like two pointed melons. The girl was laughing, squirming wildly in the Mexican's lap. Barrington waited patiently until the left side of the bikini was undone and Sanchez had sunk his teeth into the half-melon of a buttock, bringing a squeal from the girl, before he interrupted.
"Sanch, old pal," he began. "I have need of your vast storehouse of information."
"Go away, Barrington." The girl had stopped squirming and was sending an if-looks-could-kill look at him. She probably was not over seventeen, but she had seen action before. "Your presence is disturbing the child."
"Sanch, I will go away in a minute. Right now I need some information. Privately."
The policeman sighed and pushed the protesting girl from his lap. He motioned Barrington to follow him onto the balcony.
"A young woman named Ellie," Barrington said. "She's got a big pad on the beach. Drives a Ferrari GT. Blonde, sort of plain face, but a body ..."
"Si. Ellie Tiernan." He nodded, then shrugged. "Why a woman with her resources would want to come to Mazatlan escapes me. There must be more interesting places in the States, if you have the kind of money she has. I suspect she comes in search of a husband. As you say, she is plain. But her figure is good, she has the fine blonde hair and the money, so it is possible she came with the intention of buying herself a Mexican stud. Are you nominating yourself or something of that order, Barrington?"
"No. Just curious. I happened to fish her out of the ocean. One thing led to another. I think it's going to be like trying to throw a boomerang away. Has she been screwing around much?"
"If she has, it hasn't come to my attention. She drinks, but not as much as most of you Americans. She drives her car too fast for me to catch her and fine her, but she drives it well. She has not taken a lover, although I myself would not find the role repulsive."
"You'd screw a snake if someone would hold it."
"You are worried about her." The Mexican grinned. "Why be? You are not responsible. You are not Chinese."
"What about Chinese ... oh, yeah. They think that if you save somebody's life, you're responsible for them from then on. No, thanks. Anyway, she probably could have made it to shore."
"If it pleases you to think that, think it," Sanchez said. "Meanwhile, stay and distract yourself here. I seem to have an oversupply of vanqui poontang."
Barrington tried, but his heart wasn't in it. Eventually he slipped away to his own apartment, where a good slug of dark rum put him to sleep.
Before he slept he thought of Ellie Tiernan, and he put the lock on his bedroom door for the first time since he had taken the apartment. He did not want Carlotta waking him up in her usual fashion.
CHAPTER THREE.
The insistent rapping on Barrington's bedroom door woke him early. He blinked his eyes a few times, trying to collect his confused thoughts. For a moment he could not remember why he had locked his door, and then it came back to him. Quickly he pulled on his shorts and jeans, calling out to Carlotta to wait.
Hurt showed on her face when he opened the door. She looked past him, satisfied herself that he was alone, and some of the hurt went away.
"Your door was locked. It has never been so before, Senor Jeff," she said. "Are you angry with me?"
"No. You have done nothing, Carlotta. I just didn't feel up to our usual wake-up routine today."
"You have another woman."
"No, Carlotta. There is no other woman here."
"I do not mean here. I mean you have one you are going to, one you are saving yourself for."
She read the truth in his face. He wondered how women, even mere girls of fifteen, could hit the mark so quickly. A man would never be so intuitively quick, so right. He felt momentarily sorry for Carlotta. She gave herself freely to him, and he suspected she was in love with him.
"Is it the blonde girl, the one you met on the beach?" she demanded. "I have no right to ask, but I ask anyway."
"How would you know about her?" Barrington asked. "Does gossip travel so fast in Mazatlan?"
"It was not what I heard, but what I saw. I watched you through the telescope, and I saw you come in with her as I was leaving."
"I see," he said after a moment. "Carlotta, I'm afraid you might have the wrong idea about us, you and me. We are friends, but no more. There can be nothing serious between us."
"I know. It is okay, Senor Jeff. I should have said nothing. Now I am afraid you will not wish to fuck me again."
"I will. Many times. But not today. Now go on with your work. I want my breakfast."
"The juice is already poured. I will have your eggs in a moment."
He sat at the table, drank the juice and smoked a cigarette while he waited for his eggs. Visions of Ellie filled his mind. He wanted her, but he wanted her without becoming involved, if such a thing was possible. He ate his breakfast, put on a loose-fitting sports shirt and went downstairs to his truck. Ten minutes later he let himself into her apartment through the unlocked door. She was waiting in the living room. She wore a brief halter and briefer shorts. She got up from her chair and opened her arms to him.
"Barrington . . . you did come back."
She held him close, and he could feel the firm roundness of her breasts against his chest, the thrust of her pelvis against his groin. She raised her open mouth for his kiss and drove the spear of her tongue between his lips.
"Hello, Ellie."
"Hello, luv." She reached down and squeezed his penis through the thin cloth of his jeans. "Did you save it all for me or have you been with your Lolita this morning?"
"I slept with my bedroom door locked."
"Good. I want to make love to you - the way I started to yesterday and you didn't let me finish."
He caressed the plum-taut buttocks and kissed her again. She moaned and her tongue flicked in and out of his mouth. She pressed her body against him urgently.
"You don't have to do that. You said you never had."
"I want to. Let's go in the bedroom."
They went into the bedroom. She undressed him first, kneeling to pull his jeans off, then slipped out of her sun suit. She took his penis in her hand and squeezed it.
"Tell me what I should do."
"Well, I can stand here and you can kneel in front of me. Or I can lie on the bed. We better use the bed. It's easier on the knees."
"On the bed then. That way I can kiss all over your body."
He lay on his back, arms locked behind his head. After a brief hesitation she knelt beside him, her knees even with his hips.
She leaned over and kissed him on the lips, sliding her tongue slowly and searchingly into his mouth. His arms went around her and he caressed the smooth curve of her back. In a moment she took her mouth away and began to kiss his nipples, biting them, making wild sensations surge through him. She licked around them and gradually washed his upper body with her tongue, then shifted slightly on the bed and kissed him midway up the thighs. She took his penis in her hand and massaged the staff lightly, running her thumb over the tip. She dipped her head and suddenly kissed his scrotum, tonguing it, sucking his balls into her mouth. She released them and her lips slid up and down the underside of his staff, wetting it. Finally she kissed the swollen head with parted lips.
"Do I do it all at once or slowly?"
"Slowly. Run your tongue around it and kiss it and then take it in your mouth."
"And then?"
"Trust your instinct."
She obeyed. A full five minutes passed before she opened her mouth wide and slid her head down as far as it could go. Her lips compressed around him and she sucked as she began a steady bobbing motion with her head. Her tongue worked on him. The pleasure was exquisite and Barrington raised his hips in rhythm with her movements. He let his hands comb through her hair as it spilled over his thighs. He began to moan softly and she made little whimpering sounds deep in her throat. Then the pressure began to build in him and his hips jerked uncontrollably as the semen surged through his staff and sprayed into her mouth.
She sucked until there was no more to come and his penis began to soften, then took her mouth away, keeping it tightly closed.
"You look like you don't know whether to swallow or spit," Barrington said with a grin.
"Come down here and kiss me."
She did. Her mouth opened and he tasted his own sperm as they sucked tongues. She swallowed and smiled lazily.
"That was nice. I liked all of it," she said.
"It was good for me too."
"I'm glad. Is it too early for us to have a drink?"
"Maybe a beer." He shifted on the bed. "And a smoke."
"Coming up."
She brought two bottles of beer and cigarettes and they smoked and drank slowly.
"Will you spend the day with me?" she asked after a long time.
"Yes."
"In bed, or do we do other things."
"Other things. We can spend the night in bed."
"Then you'll stay with me tonight?"
"If you want. But I don't want the bed to be the big thing. I'll stay as long as we enjoy each other's company. When it turns into just a sex thing, it'll be time to split the sheets."
"That makes sense, I guess. God knows I've had enough sex things that turned into nothing. I will be nice if we can enjoy each other as people."
They went to the private strip of beach in front of her place and frolicked in the surf, which was nowhere near as high as it had been the previous day, then lay in the sun and baked their bodies. From across the street came sounds of partying, in which they had no urge to join despite the invitation of an open door. In the afternoon they drove to an old colonial building in the heart of the city, on a narrow, crooked, cobble-stoned street, and had lunch. Then they drove up into the hills in the old pickup. Ellie had wanted to take the Ferrari but Barrington had demurred, saying he didn't want to take a chance on tearing the expensive machine up on the rough mountain roads. They lay in a field of wild tropical flowers and the urgency caught up with them and they made wild love with the sun beating down on them, then lay close together, naked on the hot breeze, and smoked.
"Barrington, do you think we could do something tonight?"
"Huh? What?" he said lazily.
"I have an urge to go to a really wild party. One where everything far-out goes. Do you know where there is one?"
"I thought I was giving you enough sex."
"More than enough, thank you. I suppose I have a voyeuristic streak in me. But for years I've been hearing about how far out these things get in Mexico and I've been here three weeks and haven't run into anything."
"I know a place. Trouble is there'll likely be a lot of Americans there. The Mexicans have more sense. Most of those who go will be getting something out of it. They'll be paid to be there."
"And do what? What is it they're paid to do?"
"Anything and everything. Individual or group sex. Circuses. With man or beast. Some of them will even hold still for flagellation."
"Ugh! I don't think that appeals to me. I have a halfway urge to see an enthusiastic daisy chain, I guess because I've never seen one, but that's about the size of it. Am I abnormal?"
"I don't think so. You might not even get excited."
"I'll probably get so excited I'll want you to take me home and screw me right into the mattress."
"I thought you might want that anyway."
"I probably will, you bastard."
"Why am I a bastard?"
"For guessing so easy what I want. Let's go back and take a shower and a nap together and then go look for this debauch."
The party was held several miles out of town, in the hacienda of an American divorcee who was one of the better-known bisexuals of the Anglo colony. This was a group of which Barrington had only casual knowledge. By and large he kept away from them except for occasional visits to the country club where he would play a few sets of tennis or a round of golf, just to keep in shape. He had no interest in their insular activities. He was a private man, as the Mexicans are a private people, and had never felt at home with the Lions Club and Rotary type of conformist, role-seeking American.
He dressed casually in sport shirt and slacks. Ellie wore a peasant blouse and skirt and sandals. They arrived late in the evening. Their hostess, Marie Hart, met them at the door. She was a slender, dark-haired woman with a fine-boned face and pouting, sensual mouth. She wore a close-fitting matador suit.
"Jeff, darling. We haven't seen you for ages. Who's the doll?"
Barrington made the introduction and Marie appraised Ellie closely. If she found it unusual for Barrington to be in the company of a girl who wasn't a raving beauty she gave no indication of it.
"Well, come in. You can find the bar, I'm sure. This is an easy bunch of characters to mix with, so just mix. We'll be having a little unusual entertainment later. I hope you like sex things, Ellie, because that's what's on the agenda. You'll probably get propositioned, as I'm sure Jeff probably told you. If you feel like it, there are bedrooms aplenty," she said. "If you don't, tell the guy to get lost. Or the woman, as the case may be."
"Do you mind if I stick close to you, Barrington?" Ellie asked as their hostess moved a-way into the throng that filled the house. "Little Ellie isn't sure she likes the looks of this soiree."
"It'll be noisy, sensual and harmless. Any gal who's been raised in Texas should survive."
It was a big house with most of the visible action in a large central hall which had a sort of dais at one end, where a low, slung couch of middle Eastern style occupied the center. The bar was at the opposite end. A bartender provided them with Margarites and they took the drinks with them as they merged into the crowd.
A good many of the female guests were nearly naked. They wore everything from bikinis to slacks and blouses which fit them like second skins. They were universally young, few either men or women, past their mid-twenties. Nobody seemed to have a name. Some danced to music from a tape recorder that fed into a stereo system. Most were grabassing each other, clinging in passionate embraces. They watched one girl near the middle of the floor as she zipped open the fly of a young man and took his penis out. She stood there rubbing it idly while she conversed with him and a couple of other people. Another girl, wearing a bikini, casually removed the top to allow her partner to cup her breasts.
"They seem so damned bored with it all," Ellie commented. "That girl playing with the fellow's penis. She doesn't seem to care whether he gets excited enough to shove it into her or not."
"Come on, I'll show you something," he said. He led her over to the girl, tapped her on the shoulder and said, "Are you going to play with that thing all night or are you going to suck it?"
The girl considered him with lazy eyes. "I hadn't thought. Would you get a kick out of seeing me do it?"
"You have nice full lips. I wonder how they'd look wrapped around a cock."
"Okay. I'll show you."
She knelt on the floor, skinned back the man's penis and took it into her mouth. She sucked it for a minute, as if debating whether it was interesting enough to continue. Apparently she made up her mind that it was, because she began moving her head forward and back, mouthing him casually, thoroughly. The man put his hands on her head and held it while his eyes watched her. A small circle formed around them and in a few minutes Marie came over to join the watchers. After a time the man began to thrust his hips forward and his eyes closed. The girl increased the speed and intensity of her sucking and in a few more minutes the man trembled and they could see her throat muscles move as she swallowed. She wiped her mouth and stood, turning to Barrington.
"Well, did you like it?"
"That's a good one. You blow this guy and then ask me if I liked it." Barrington smiled.
"Would you like me to do you?"
"He's with me," Ellie put in.
The girl looked at Ellie and nodded. "It's still early. Later, it's pretty much a case of everybody's with everybody. That's the way this bunch swings. Do you swing?"
"I don't know. Ask me later."
The group of watchers began to break up. Barrington and Ellie drifted back to the bar for refills.
"That was quite a performance. Who was the girl?" she asked.
"Beats me - I never saw her before in my life."
"And you just walked up to her and asked her what you did?"
"Why not? Wait a little longer, until enough of them get high on pot and ..."
"You mean they're smoking marijuana here?" She sounded shocked.
"Sure. Can't you smell it in the air? And some of them will be dropping acid and a few shooting H, probably. This is no Sunday-school picnic, Ellie."
"Yeah. I'm beginning to have second thoughts."
"Well, we're here now. Might as well stick around a little longer."
Time passed swiftly. Two couples got on the couch at the same time and engaged in a four-way game of sixty-nine. When they had finished a single couple took their places. The girl, who looked to be no more than eighteen, straddled her partner and copulated with him without bothering to remove her thigh-length minidress. A handsome young Mexican announced in both Spanish and English that he was ready to go down on any girls who felt in the mood, and five immediately lined up. One by one in turn they sat on a corner of the couch, let's spread, while the man knelt and buried his face in their crotches. While this was going on another couple took over the center of the couch and the man penetrated his partner anally while she screamed in pain and pleasure.
"I think I've had about as much of this as I can stand, Barrington," Ellie said as she turned away from the spectacle.
"Then we'll leave."
They started for the door and at that moment the whistles began to blow. There were a few inside and more outside. Spot light beams flashed on the windows of the house.
"What is it?" she called, her voice suddenly afraid.
"It sounds like a raid. Let's get out of here," Barrington responded.
He grabbed her arm and hauled her through the milling crowd. He slammed into bodies and bowled them over, but they were too late. Uniformed police were pouring in the doors and oth-eis appeared at the windows. There seemed to be dozens of them. The rooms resounded with cries of fear and indignation and drunken challenges.
The police had come in a dozen cars and brought several large, open-bodied trucks with them. Into these they crammed those corraled at the party. In half an hour a caravan wound down from the hills to the walled enclosure of Mazat-lan's central jail. Barrington and Ellie were separated.
He had been in Mexico long enough to know the futility of fighting or arguing with the cops once they had decided to move in a certain direction. In this case they had held a raid and there was nothing to do but go along with it and hope the fine wouldn't be too steep. There was no thought of a trial and pleading not guilty. That would bring only one thing for sure - months of incarceration awaiting a hearing.
Barrington found himself, like the others, crammed into a large room that held perhaps fifty people. The only ventilation came from a few windows high up in the wall. It was stinking and stifling. Barrington found a place to sit down with his back against a wall. The men were being kept separate from the women. He hoped Ellie was making out all right. After an hour passed he concentrated on trying to nap in his uncomfortable position. It was evident that nothing was going to be done about any of them until morning. The police had confiscated tourist cards and passports as they herded their prisoners into the room, and presumably were considering these and assessing their haul. From time to time he awoke and smoked. Mostly he waited.
Daybreak showed through the windows by the time the police began processing them. One by one, names were called out and the people who belonged to the names led away for questioning. When Barrington's turn came he was taken to a small, cell-like room. He was not surprised to find Sanchez waiting for him.
"Well, Barrington. I am truly surprised," the policeman said. "I didn't think you did this kind of thing."
"I didn't do a damn thing. I went to a party. I had a couple of drinks. I was just leaving when it was raided."
"A pity you didn't leave five minutes earlier."
"You want the truth, I think it's a lousy deal," Barrington shot back. "Five thousand teenagers raising hell downtown and your goons have to raid a quiet party out in the country."
"You observed what was going on there . . . and you think we were unjustified?" Sanchez asked.
"I've seen just as wild goings-on in your apartment, and you right in the middle of them."
"One of the privileges of being subjefe of the Policia Federal." Sanchez smiled. "But we were not concerned with the sex."
"What, then?"
"The narcotics. Particularly the Americans using them."
"I wouldn't know about that. I wouldn't even know where to buy pot, or anything else. And you know 1 don't hang around with Americans."
"Then why were you there?"
"I was with a girl who wanted to see some action."
"The one you asked me about yesterday? Ellie Tiernan?"
"Yes. And where is she, by the way? She was just a spectator."
"She is already gone. The American consul came and got her." Sanchez smiled. "It is nice to have money."
"Remind me to get some sometime. How a-bout me? Any charge?"
"For the present, no. You are free to go."
"My truck's out in the country."
"Mazatlan is full of taxicabs. A few pesos."
"Yeah. Thanks, Sanch. I'll see you." Barrington waited while a uniformed officer led him from the building. He found several cabs waiting by the jail door and took one on the long trip to retrieve his truck.
He found the door to Ellie's apartment unlocked and Ellie nude on the bed in the darkened bedroom. She opened one eye as he came in.
"Hi. I was about to go ask them what your bail was."
"I'm free," Barrington said.
"So I see. Tired?"
"Ready to sleep around the clock. After a shower."
"Take your shower, then come here."
Barrington showered, sluicing away the stink of the jail. He lit a cigarette and padded back to the bedroom naked and sat on the edge of the bed, smoking. When he was done Ellie reached for him.
"I'm tired," he protested.
"Me too." She chuckled. "But if I don't get laid I'm going to toss and turn and neither of us will get any rest."
She caressed his penis. It quickly grew thick and hard at her touch. He parted her legs and lowered himself onto her, thrusting, driving deep into her flesh in a single, demanding stroke.
CHAPTER FOUR...
Barrington returned to his apartment late in the day to shave and change clothes. He was only mildly surprised when he came from the bathroom to discover Ramon Sanchez Morales sitting comfortably on the sofa in his living room, smoking one of his cigars and drinking his rum. The policeman grinned handsomely at him.
"You've changed your mind," Barrington said. "I'm going to have to rot in your jail after all. How much does it cost me for the bite?"
"You jump to a conclusion, Barrington. I am here because it is possible you may do me a service."
"You found out how much money Ellie really has and you want an introduction," Barrington accused. "Introduce yourself."
"I have given it some thought." Sanchez grinned. "She does not fool around, that one. What she wants she goes after. This morning she wanted to get out of jail and it was not ten minutes before she had bribed a guard to call your consul. And it was not twenty minutes after that that he appeared and got her out."
"You have a corrupt system. Get to the point. What is it you want?"
"We want you to meet a girl."
"Oh?"
"You have already met, although you may not realize it. She was at the party. She was playing with a man's cock and you challenged her to perform an indecent act, which she performed publicly."
"Yeah." Barrington remembered the girl with the lazy eyes and active mouth. "I never saw her before. So what?"
"I know you are a stranger to her. We, the Mexican police have an interest in her. So do agents of your country. Your Bureau of Narcotics."
"What's she doing? Peddling reefers?"
"We believe she is a contact for a group which smuggles hard narcotics - heroin, opium, cocaine - from Mexico into your United States. She makes contact with vacationers. Young people mostly vacationers or college students visiting here. In one way or another, she and her friends see to it that when they leave for home they are carrying narcotics. Only in most cases they don't know this."
"I'm no cop. If you have this on her, why don't you haul her down to your jail and sweat it out of her. She'd break."
"We do not want her very much. We want the people she works with. We want to learn just how their system works."
"I don't see why you came to me. Like I said, I don't even know her."
"She knows you. Or at least she remembers you."
"From just that one brief incident?"
"Yes. She said her first instinct was to slap your face. Then, she said, she saw something in your eyes. She decided to show you something, as she put it."
"Yeah. I guess she sort of did at that."
"So - will you help us? Will you work on the girl for us?"
"I suppose it could get dangerous."
"It could get very dangerous, my friend. But it would seem that you like Mexico. I think you might like it enough to help the Mexican authorities in such a matter."
"Meaning I get booted out of the country otherwise."
"That is a crude way to express it."
"Okay. Who is she and where do I make contact?"
"Her name is Kmito. Carmel Kmito. Don't ask me what kind of name that is. I suspect it was shortened from something Slavic. She is twenty years old. A dropout from one of your universities. She has been here about six months and spends a lot of her time in the bars frequented by Americans, or at the country club. She is something of a friend of the Senora Hart who gave the party. I think they sleep together sometimes."
"Where does she live?"
"She has a room in a posada on the Calle Obregon. But it appears she does little except keep her clothes there. She sleeps around a lot."
"I suppose you want fast action on this, Sanch."
"I would like you to meet her tonight."
"Can't. I have a date with Ellie."
"Break it. If you do what we want you to do, you will not have much chance to see your wealthy American friend for a while. Does this distress you?"
"I don't know. It could."
"You will have to come to some arrangement with her. How you do it is up to you."
"Yeah. I don't know anything about this sort of business. When I have something, do I just look you up?"
"Me. Or the General. You can report directly to him if necessary." Sanchez wrote a phone number down on one of his business cards and gave it to Barrington. "You will be able to reach one or the other of us at this number at any hour."
"Yeah. Thanks for nothing." Barrington scowled. "Any idea where I should start looking for this broad? There's a lot of bars in Mazatlan."
"I would suggest the Glory Hole. She goes there at some time almost every night."
"Okay." Barrington began to dress. "I'll see
Ellie, give her some kind of a story."
* * *
Ellie took the news well, outwardly, but Bar-rinton read fear in her eyes . . . fear that what they had was ending so soon.
"Ellie, I can't tell you about it," he said. "Just that something came up and that bastard Sanchez is putting heat on me for a favor. He's in a position to do it."
"And it won't be just for tonight."
"No. Longer. I don't know how long. I have to mix with some Americans."
"All right, Jeff. Do what you have to do." She kissed him lightly. "Come to me when you can."
"Sure."
Barrington went to a large restaurant frequented by Mexicans and had a dinner of tacos, enchiladas, rice and refried beans, washed down with several glasses of beer. He returned to his apartment for a nap and at eleven o'clock went out, got in the truck and drove to the night club called the Glory Hole.
He could hear it before he could see it. It was a discotheque and the stereo system was turned up to ear-shattering volume. Psychedelic lighting gave him brief flashes of the surrealistic interior. He picked his way to the bar and ordered a Carta Blanca. In this place he was going to stick to beer. He did not trust the mixed drinks. Gradually his eyes adjusted to the lighting, and as he looked a-round he saw what he had expected to see.
There were perhaps half a hundred people in the place. There were a few mixed couples, but largely men seemed to be sitting with men and women with women. The Glory Hole was that kind of place. He knew that there were rooms in back which could be rented by the hour. The Glory Hole lacked one thing that most second-rate Mexican bars had. There were no prostitutes working for the house. Barrington supposed they would have starved to death with the amateur competition. He sipped slowly on his beer and watched the gyrations of couples on the small dance floor.
Carmel Kmito came in about half an hour later. She wore short shorts rolled high on her long, tanned legs and a blouse that dipped almost to her navel in a deep vee. He could see the sharp outlines of her nipples against it and guessed she was wearing no bra. The lazy eyes looked around the room but apparently she did not see him. She took a place at the bar several stools away. Barrington immediately sent a drink down.
She looked at the glass in surprise and then at the bartender, who pointed to Barrington. Barrington lifted his glass in a greeting and then moved down to the vacant stool beside her.
"Hello. I saw you at the party. I thought we might have a drink to celebrate getting out of jail."
"Hi. I remember you." She combed her fingers through her long hair and it fell over her breasts. "I'll drink with you. Why not? Do you have a name?"
"Barrington. Jeff Barrington."
"Carmel Kmito. I haven't seen you here before."
"I don't come often. It isn't my style."
"I get a kick out of watching the faggots. One went down on his friend right here at the bar a couple of nights ago."
"You went down on your friend in a roomful of people last night."
"You dared me to. Where's your girl? She seemed afraid I was going to eat you up."
"She was just a date for the night."
"You want me to be your date for tonight?"
"Why not? I thought you might be waiting for a friend."
"Not tonight. Just cruising, killing time. Most of my friends are still sleeping last night off. Some of them didn't get out of that goddamn jail until suppertime."
"How'd you do?"
"They turned me loose around noon. No charges. I was clean."
"Are they holding anybody?"
"A few who were too stupid to get rid of the pot they were smoking. They'll get small fines. It's happened before."
"To you?"
"Not to me. The cops don't like me because I bum around. They may not renew my tourist card, but I've got four months to go and I'll worry a-bout it then. Tell me about you, Jeff."
Barrington had decided the truth would be his best cover. Just another American expatriate. Semi-talented artist with enough money to get along. Carmel Kmito apparently bought it. There was no reason why she shouldn't. After all, they had been to the same party and the same jail. Barrington knew that if anything came of their meeting, somebody would check him out. There would be no worry on that score. What they might think if they found out how close he lived to the deputy chief of police could be another matter, one which he would worry about when the time came. He bought her another drink and himself another beer. He wished he could phone Ellie. He needed to hear the sound of her voice. But phones are scarce in Mazatlan. Only the big businesses, high officials and professional men such as doctors have them. He let it go.
She told him basically what Sanchez had already said about her. She had dropped out of the University of California at Berkeley after her freshman year. She had been active in the Students for a Democratic Society, the Peace and
Freedom Party and the Sexual Freedom League, as well as several other off-beat organizations. She had some family back in Iowa. They were hopeless squares.
"Right now I'm killing time. I think I might like to go back to the States and be a prostitute on Park Avenue. I like the good life and I like to screw. I don't see anything wrong with doing it for money," she told him. "Do you want to sleep with me?"
"Not for money."
"Of course not. Just for somebody to sleep with."
"Why not?" Barrington affected a somewhat bored tone, to match the girl's, but he found himself excited at the prospect. He wanted to feel her breasts in his hands, taste the full, ripe mouth. For a moment he forgot he was playing cop and that this girl was his quarry. He lit a cigarette and one for her. He looked around the room. At a nearby table two Lesbians were swapping tongues in a deep kiss. Farther along the bar one faggot was running his hand up and down the leg of another. Gurk! Barrington thought. "How much longer do we sit in this dive?"
"We can leave anytime." She shrugged. "I hope you have an apartment somewhere. My room is hotter than the hinges of hell."
It was almost one in the morning when Barrington opened the door of his apartment and flicked the light on. They were both sober. Car-mel prowled slowly around the place, taking it in, eyeing the pictures on the walls, his easel and table littered with brushes and paint tubes.
"So you really are an artist," she said. "Most of those down here who claim to be don't work at it. Not too bad."
"It doesn't say much. About the most you can say for it is it's pleasant to look at."
"Maybe so. You want to go to bed now?"
"That's what we came here for."
"Let's take a shower together. I took one earlier but I still smell the stink of that jail on me."
Her fingers went to the buttons of the blouse and she opened them, then peeled it off. Her breast were two full, swaying cones jutting out at him, the nipples dark against the golden tan of her skin. Barrington felt a surge of desire as she unzipped her shorts and shoved them down over the swell of her hips. She stepped out of them and then her panties. Her hair was a rich auburn, thick where it covered her mound. Her legs were long and slim, a dancer's legs. Muscles rippled when she moved.
"You going to stand there all night or get undressed too?" she demanded. "Or do you want me to do it?"
"Would you like to?"
"Sure."
She stepped forward and unbuttoned his shirt. She ran her fingers lightly over the muscles of his upper body.
"Uramm ... no flab. You must swim a lot. I saw the plank in your truck."
"It keeps me in shape."
She undid his belt then, slid the zipper of his slacks and pulled them down. Her fingers went inside his shorts and gripped his staff appraising-ly, and then she pulled the shorts away and let them drop. He stepped out of them.
"Oh, my, but you've got a lot of peter. I don't know if I can take it all."
"You've got a nice wide mouth."
"I'll try, don't worry. You like it that way?"
"Doesn't everybody?"
"I guess so. It depends on the girl - how enthusiastic she is."
"You seemed to be enthusiastic enough last night."
"Last night I didn't really give a damn. Tonight I do. Let's wash."
They showered, then dried each other, hands roving over hot flesh. Barrington was rigid, wanting her urgently now. They went to the bed and lay down on it. Her hands stroked him and squeezed his scrotum.
"You want me to French you first? Then we can have a drink and a smoke and settle down to straight fucking."
"That sounds nice."
"Then lay back."
He did. She knelt between his legs and leaned far forward, pressing her mouth to his. Her tongue speared between his lips and probed deeply. Her breasts mashed against his chest and he could feel the hard, hot imprint of her nipples. He stroked her body, feeling her muscles make little jumps at his touch. She began to kiss him on the throat and chest, bitting at his nipples, washing him with her tongue. She licked him all over, nuzzled his mass of pubic hair. She took the head of his penis in her fingers, stretched it upward toward his belly and nibbled it like it was an ear of corn. Her hair brushed lightly a-gainst his abdomen and parted legs. Finally she opened her mouth wide and experimentally worked it over the head.
"You are big," she whispered. "Don't jam it all the way down my throat or you'll choke me."
"I'll let you do the work."
She tongued him avidly, licking around the base of the glans, rolling her head, making little moaning sounds. She shifted her body slightly to a more comfortable position and took as much of his staff as she could manage into her mouth, then began moving her head up and down in a steady, sucking rhythm. Her free hand cupped his balls lightly, massaging them. He reached out and took her hair in his hands and lifted it high, away from her neck, then let it all forward again. Suddenly the pressure was in him and the juice was streaming through his shaft, filling her mouth as she sucked and swallowed.
"Say, you must have been saving that a while," she said as she took her mouth away. "Didn't your girl take care of you?"
"We kind of got separated in jail," Barrington said in a wry tone. "Want a drink now?"
"I think I've earned one, don't you?"
He mixed rum and fruit juice and brought the glasses to the bed. He was reaching for his pack of cigarettes when she stopped him.
"I've got something better than Dominos, if you're interested."
"Oh?" He regarded the lazy eyes. "Maybe."
"I've got a couple of sticks of pot in my purse if you go that route. If you don't, forget it."
"Once in a while. Why not?"
She got out of bed and opened her purse, which she had left in the living room. In a moment she was back with two cigarettes wrapped in dark brown paper. The tobacco looked darker than that in American cigarettes, about the color of that used in the cheaper Mexican brands. She put one between his lips, struck a match, lit his and then one for herself.
Barrington had smoked pot before, on rare occasions. It did little for him, but he didn't see anything harmful in it. Now he puffed deeply and held the smoke inside him until his lungs hurt. Then he expelled it slowly. She was doing the same, her full lips wet on the butt.
"Pretty good stuff," he said. "You smoke much?"
"A stick or two a day, when the mood hits me. You?"
"Maybe once or twice a month." He thought of hinting that he needed something stronger for kicks and decided against it. It was too soon. He had to gain Carmel's confidence . . . and perhaps make her think he could be used. "I don't get much from it."
"You're in good shape. That can make a difference." She let curls of smoke drift from her parted lips and sipped her drink. "You live here, but I haven't seen you around. How come?"
"I guess we go different places."
"The Glory Hole isn't your scene?"
"Not at all."
"But you were there tonight."
"Boredom."
"Still bored?" The lazy eyes challenged him.
"What do you think?"
"I think I'll get you up again and then we'll screw away the rest of the night. You want to go down on me?"
"That's not my bag, baby."
"Okay." She shrugged as if it made no difference. "I like it all, myself."
She finished her drink, massaged his penis with her fingers and then sucked it until it was hard again. She rolled on her back and pulled him on top of her, guiding him. He felt her flesh part as he drove into her vagina. She was hot and slippery and surprisingly tight. Her lithe body arched to meet his strokes and he felt her interior muscles pulling at him as her arms locked around his back and fingernails dug into his flesh. She was good. Very, very good.
CHAPTER FIVE...
She stayed the remainder of the night and was still there when Carlotta came in to clean up. Barrington had forgotten to close the bedroom door and Carlotta walked in on them while Barrington was on top of Carmel. The maid said nothing. She merely closed the door and went about her work. When he came out of the bedroom Barrington saw two places had been set at the table. Carlotta avoided his eyes, accepting the situation.
"What're you doing today ?" Carmel asked as they finished off breakfast with a beer. "Any plans?"
"Paint, I guess. I've been goofing off. And swim some."
"Later?"
"Nothing in particular."
"I have to see some friends first. Then I'm going out to Marie's place. She's shoved out of shape because of the raid. I'll probably stop by the Glory Hole about nine, if you don't have anything better to do."
"I'll see about it."
"Okay. How about a lift to my pad?"
Barrington drove her to her posada, then returned to his own place, nervously puffing a cigarette. He was disturbed because of an incident which had happened. As he was letting Carmel out of the truck, Ellie had driven past. He was sure she had seen him with the girl.
He told himself that it was nothing, that El-
lie hadn't any claim on him, that she was no more than a girl, albeit a rich one with whom it was a pleasure to have sex. He had not convinced himself when he made the decision to put off the painting for a few minutes and talk to Sanchez.
The policeman had been asleep. He came to the door and let Barrington in wearing nothing but his shorts. Barrington had a glimpse of a slender red-haired girl in Sanchez' bedroom just before she closed the door.
"Ah, buenas dias, amigo," Sanchez said. "You look well despite the rigors of your night."
"How would you know about the rigors of my night?"
"Simple. I have had your apartment bugged, and I listened. If the way to the girl's secrets are through her pussy, you are well on the way to success."
"If you listened, there isn't much for me to tell you."
"No. It is too soon. She will take some time, that one. I am glad you are enjoying your work." Sanchez lit a cigarette. "I wish you had decided to spend the day with her. Then you could have met her friends, whoever they may be. It is possible some of them would be of interest to me."
"I could go back there."
"No. She might get suspicious. Why don't you drop by Senora Hart's in the evening? The girl said she was going there. You can even take your Ellie along. I would like Senorita Kmito to think you have other interests besides her."
"Uh-uh. I'm not mixing Ellie up in this."
Barrington went upstairs and began mixing colors on his palette. He tried to work on the picture he had in progress, his recollection and impressions of a crumbling mission church he had seen some weeks before. His mind was not on the work, however, and in half an hour he threw down his brush in irritation. He mixed himself a strong rum and Coke and that did not help either. Finally he went down to the truck and drove out to Ellie Tiernan's place. The door was unlocked but she was not inside. He went out and found her sleeping on the beach.
"Hi," she said when he woke her. "I caught you with your girl friend. Did you see me?"
"Too late to duck. And she's not my girl friend."
"Oh?" Her eyes laughed at him. "What, then?"
"She's my assignment, believe it or not. Some people are interested in her."
"The cop downstairs."
"Yeah."
"He wants you to stick with her?"
"Yeah."
"Can I come?"
"Nope. It could get hairy."
"Hey, I'm a Texas gal, remember."
"I said no. And in a couple of hours I have to go out to Marie Hart's and see if I can casually run into her again."
"Let me come. It sounds mysterious."
Barrington thought about it for a few minutes. Sanchez had suggested bringing Ellie, ' he could see no danger in it.
"Well, I guess it would be okay."
"Good. When do we go."
"Early evening."
"It's barely afternoon now. Come on over to the apartment. I just bought a genuine imported canned ham and I'll whack us off a couple of sandwiches."
They went. They ate and drank beer and finally Ellie stretched like a big cat, threatening to explode from her bikini.
"Take me to bed, Barrington. Or did she poop you out?"
"I'm pooped."
"Nice assignment you have." She slid her arms around his neck and kissed him lingeringly. "I need something. You could do me like you did before - you know, with your mouth."
"You really want it?" Barrington could feel a stirring inside him. He wanted to taste her again. "Okay."
"We can do it to each other at the same time. What do you call it? Sixty-nine?"
"That's it."
"Okay. It shouldn't tire you too much."
They went to the bedroom and stripped. They arranged themselves, face to crotch. Barrington pillowed his head on her leg, parted the lips of her vagina and put his mouth on it, tonguing the clitoris lightly. There was a sweet musky taste to her. He buried his face in the wet moistness. She took the head of his penis in her mouth and began sucking it gently, using her tongue. He did not think he could come again, but it felt good and he knew he was getting tumescent. He ran his hands over the warm curves of her hips and thighs.
They were in that position when the apartment door opened and the man and woman came in and abruptly halted, staring at them through the open door of the bedroom.
"Jesus Christ, Ellie!" the man said, shocked.
"Ellie! Oh, my, Ellie," the woman said, with a throaty laugh and a conspiratorial wink.
Ellie and Barrington sprang apart, flushing a deep red, trying to cover themselves with a sheet.
"Pa!" Ellie gulped, then shrugged. "Barrington, meet my father, Josh Tiernan. And my stepmother, Maggi. Folks, this here is Jeff Barrington. A friend of mine."
The man seemed unable to speak. The woman laughed.
"Obviously," she said. "Hello, Barrington."
"Hello," Barrington replied weakly.
"Nobody ever told them doors were to be knocked on. So they've got themselves to blame for what they saw. Don't let it shake you, Barrington," Ellie said.
"Jesus Christ," Tiernan said. "First I hear you're in a Mexican jail and now I walk in and find you going through a perverted ritual with this son-of-a-bitch. I ought to flay your goddam chippy hide!"
"You ought to go to hell back where you came from," Ellie retorted. "When I want you, I'll call."
"Little slut!" Tiernan started for his daughter. He was a big man with the look of the outdoors on him. He might have been a driller on one of his own rigs. "I'll show ..."
Barrington leaped from the bed and got between them. He straight-armed the older man back against a wall and crouched, expecting an attack. Tiernan froze against the wall.
"Get out. Let us dress," Barrington said. "Then we can talk."
Grumbling, Tiernan left the room and the woman went with him. Barrington pulled on his clothes and Ellie got her bathing suit back on and ran a comb through her hair.
"Let me handle him," she whispered. In the living room she turned on her father. "Okay, you barged in and saw something. You've caught me with men before. Only this one you can't run off the ranch and if you try to beat him up you'll probably get your ass whipped, Pa. Now why don't you and Maggi go. Just go."
"Now wait a minute, honey," Tiernan began. "I heard ..."
"You heard I was in jail and you came running, knowing I am perfectly capable of getting out of jails myself. What did you do, fly down in the company jet?"
"What else."
"Well, I appreciate your concern but you didn't have to, and I'll appreciate it if you'll just fly back. I have my own money and my own life. I didn't say a word when you went ga-ga over Maggie and married her, in spite of the fact she's only two years older than me!"
"I'd like to be included out, if you don't mind," Maggie said in a tightly-controlled voice. "Please."
Barrington studied her. She was a busty woman in her mid-twenties. A fall of chestnut hair framed a pretty face. Now the face looked uncomfortable. He wondered if she might have been in show business before Tiernan married her. She looked like she was probably good in bed. She did not seem at all shocked by what she had walked in on.
"Well, I mean it. You can get the hell out of here," Ellie shot back. "Now."
She whirled and went back to the bedroom and slammed the door. Barrington sat and waited. He was surprised when, after several minutes had passed, Tiernan got up, made a sign to Maggi and left the apartment. Moments later EJiie came out. She was dressed in a blouse and Capris and her hair was caught back by a ribbon.
"They're gone," she said. "Good."
"You were pretty rough on him."
"I meant to be. Josh Tiernan has his way every place but with me. He just doesn't seem to think I'm a grown woman and not subject to his whims any more," she said. "Come on, Barrington. Take me where we were going."
"Just like that?"
"Just like that." She lit a cigarette. "Oh, the old man won't go far. He'll get a place here so he can keep an eye on me. I don't give a damn. I'll go to bed with you or anybody else who pleases me and I don't care if he's in the same room!"
"Is it smart to antagonize him that way?" Barrington asked.
"It doesn't matter. I'm over twenty-one and my own woman. I have money in my own name. When my mother died she left her share of the ranches and oil to me. There was plenty left after taxes," she replied. "Two years ago Pa got a look at Maggi wearing nothing at all in a Las Vagas skin show and he took the big fall. Despite the fact he needs a wife like another nose."
"I don't understand."
"He's so damn busy with business he doesn't have time for anybody - child, wife, brother, sister, anybody. He has more money than ten people could spend in a lifetime and he still wants more. He probably doesn't take time out to bounce Maggi more than once a month."
"She didn't look discontented. And he showed up fast enough when he thought you were in trouble," Barrington said.
"Maggi has a thing going with Buster Maine, the pilot of Pa's jet. And any other stud she happens to like the looks of. And Pa showed up so quick because he thought somebody might run off with some of the family fortune through my escapades, so he came running. Screw him. Barrington, let's go see that sinful Hart woman and your new girl friend. And let's take the Ferrari. I'm getting a fractured coccyx from bouncing around in your truck," Ellie said.
"Remember to play it cool. You don't know anything about this Carmel Kmito, right?"
"Naturally. Let's go."
Barrington ground the gears a few times getting used to the stick shift. He handled the coupe with the respect due a machine that would do upwards of 150 miles an hour, not taking it above third gear on the narrow, winding roads. He could feel the leashed horses under the hood, waiting for him to make a miscue. He sweated most of the way and began to get the feel of the car only in the last couple of miles.
There were several other cars, some with American license plates, parked in the curving driveway of Marie Hart's hacienda. The setting sun turned the whitewashed walls a pale shade of gold and touched the dark red roof tiles with amber. The place looked bigger in the daylight than it had at night. Barrington didn't know how many rooms there were. He thought something on the order of twenty bedrooms. It seemed like an awful lot of house for a woman living alone except for servants and occasional house guests.
In his mind he reviewed what he knew of Marie Hart. She was divorced from some electronics millionaire. She had come out of it with plenty of money, more than enough to indulge her tastes in the bizzare and exotic, in young men and women. Barrington had never been to bed with her, although there had been ample opportunities and she kept making passes. It was not that she didn't appeal to him physically. She did. She was only in her middle thirties and she was a beauty by any standards. But he had sensed that her whole being was a perversion of humanity, that if he ever made love to her he would never quite be able to get clean again.
He parked the car and they walked up to the big main door. A servant admitted them to the entry hall. They could hear the sounds of music and laughter from the big room which
had been the center of the party. In it they found Marie. She was the center of a knot of young people, most of whose faces were vaguely familiar to Barrington from the party. But Car-mel Kmito was the only one he knew by name. She stood close by Marie and the older woman had an arm around her waist. Her hand reached up to cup the girl's breast. She took it away and strode to Barrington and Ellie.
"Darling! You came for the post-mortem. We were just discussing the raid and what terrible monsters the police are!"
"Pretty severe," Barrington said. "Marie, you remember Ellie. I introduced you the other night."
"Of course."
The two women nodded, smiling false smiles. Marie introduced them to the others, whose names they promptly forgot. A servant came with a tray of drinks and they took glasses, more to have something to hold in their hands than because they wanted them.
Carmel had changed to a different blouse and shorts, but otherwise she looked the same - hot and ripe. She seemed to be more or less with a slender Mexican named Luis something. She eyed Ellie at first with open hostility, but as time went by the look disappeared and was replaced by one that was more of a calculating study. Barrington noticed this seemed to take place after Carmel had looked out the window and seen the Ferrari.
The talk was mostly small stuff. Marie had gone to town and paid fines for a dozen or so of those arrested.
"It seemed the least I could do. I couldn't bear to think of any of my friends rotting in that lousy jail," she said. "Damn the secret police. I thought things were fixed."
"They had a choice of spending their night grabbing teeny-boppers with no dough or knocking you over," Barrington said. "It's that simple, Marie."
"I still say they're bastards."
"Agreed," Luis said. "But it is done and there is little profit in talking about it. Anyway, we now have enough people for a new party."
"And you're in the mood?" Marie asked.
"I am always in the mood," Luis responded. He grinned at Ellie and pinched Carmel's behind. The others laughed. "I'm in the mood for a smoke, too."
"Well here, the best money can buy." Marie took a cigarette box from a table and held it out to them. The cigarettes were dark. Barrington knew they were marijuana. "Come on."
Barrington hesitated, then took one, nodding to Ellie that it was all right. They all lit up and sucked deep on the reefers. Their strong smell permeated the air. Barrington finished his drink and took another from the tray as the maid materialized at his elbow. Carmel watched Ellie, realized she did not know how to smoke marijuana and began explaining how it was done. Ellie coughed several times and tried again. She began to question Ellie with casual closeness. Ellie went along with it, filling the other girl in.
"We came by the airport on the way out and I wondered about that big jet," Carmel said. "So that belongs to your father."
"I wish he'd get in it and go back where he came from."
"It's what happens when you have money. They can follow you to the ends of the earth." She laughed. "My folks would love to come down and jerk me out of here kicking and screaming. They thought it was a mortal sin when I went to college in California. If they could see me now!"
"Like your little scene at the party," Luis put in, grinning.
"Like most of my scenes." She winked at Barrington. She turned to Ellie. "Planning to stay around or cut back to the States?"
"I haven't thought much about it," Ellie said. "The action seems to be picking up here. Maybe I'll stay."
"It's as good as any place, I guess," Carmel replied. "I just wish I had enough loot to afford a pad on the beach. I'm stuck half a mile away now."
"Come by my place any time," Ellie invited. "The door's always open."
"It's not a good idea, casually inviting people," Carmel said. "Somebody might clean you out."
"I don't keep anything there but a few clothes. I'm not the jewelry type. If somebody steals, I replace it."
"I might stop by to see you at that. Maybe your old man will stop by. I've never met a millionaire."
"It's a drag, believe me."
Barrington was shooting cool it, shut up glances at Ellie but she was either missing or ignoring them. In time a buffet was wheeled into the room and they all nibbled on cold Texas roast beef, longustas, shrimp, oysters, tacos, re-fried beans, thin-sliced hot sausage and other things. The maid began passing around pony glasses filled with greenish liqueur.
Barrington drank two and the room began to darken and spin. Voices sounded distant. He looked for Ellie and she was not there. He looked for Carmel and could not find her either. Vaguely he saw Luis' face as the latter lighted a marijuana cigarette and put it between his lips. Suddenly Barrington wanted out of this place, but he was too late. Hands were on him, leading him.
He was in a bedroom lit only by the light of torches burning in wall scones. He was being undressed, and then he was naked on the bed. Marie was with him, and she was naked too. He saw there was a mirror set into the ceiling over the bed, and there were other mirrors on all the walls.
"Wasting your time," he said with thickening tongue. "All screwed out."
Her laugh floated in his ears. "Look at yourself, Jeff. Those green dragons are great for restoring the flagging libido."
He looked down at himself. He was tumescent. The head of his penis seemed to be a great throbbing purplish knob. In spite of the erection he had no desire for her. She let her hair down. It came to her shoulder blades, dark and wavy.
She went to a chest of drawers and got something from it.
A whip. A small cat o' nine tails, but one made to sting rather than flay. There were protective pom-poms on the tips of the lashes. She held it out to him.
"Whip me, Jeff."
"Get lost, Marie."
"You'll whip me. What you drank will make you want to whip me. Then you'll fuck me. Here."
She held out the lash. He felt his fingers closing around it. He lay back on the bed, feeling loose.
"Whip me on the butt while I encourage you a little."
She knelt on the bed, at a right-angle to him, her buttocks raised in the air. She took his penis in her hand and stroked it, then put it in her mouth. He could feel the cruel biting of her teeth just below the head. He yelled. His hand lashed out and the whip cracked across her bare bottom. She gasped and drove her head downward, taking his staff between her lips to its base. He struck her again and her buttocks quivered enticingly. Red welts appeared, but there was no blood. Her mouth devoured him. He began to whip her steadily. The lash reddened her buttocks and thighs and cracked across her back. He had no idea how much time passed before she cried out in ecstacy and pulled away from him, throwing herself down on the bed on her back, legs spread.
"Now put that lovely thing in me!"
"No. You're sick. We're both sick, but I'll recover."
"Fuck me, Jeff. I've waited a long time for this."
She pulled him to her, pumping his penis with her hand, locking her other arm around his neck. She found his mouth with hers and thrust her tongue past his lips. She rolled him on top of her and pulled his penis to the entrance of her vagina. Against his will, Barrington found himself thrusting downward, entering her. She raised her hips to meet him and her legs locked a-round his hips. He settled into a steady pumping rhythm, feeling her vagina grip him tightly. He rotated his hips and drove into her. Time passed and what he was doing was a mechanical thing. Finally her mouth opened and she screamed with the intensity of her release. Her legs released their grip and he pulled out of her. He had not had a climax. He was still rigid. He did not want to come with this witch-woman. He got off the bed, crossed the room and found a door which led to a huge private bath. He ran water in the basin and washed himself off. Then he went back to the bedroom and dressed.
"That was very good, Jeff," she said. "I'll want you again."
"Go to hell, Marie."
"Oh, don't be that way. You're taking plenty home to give your girl tonight. That stuff lasts for hours."
"Screw you."
Barrington's head was somewhat clearer. He picked his way through the big house until he found the room where the others had been. Now it was occupied only by Ellie, Luis and Carmel. The latter two watched him come into the room with smirks on their faces. Ellie said nothing. Her face was expressionless. He went to her and took her hand.
"Come on. We're getting out of here," he said.
She came without protest. Barrington still felt shaky. He insisted she drive the powerful Ferrari.
"Well . . . quite an evening," she said when they were well down the road. "Carmel tried to put the make on me. And Marie sure got you off in the puckerbrush in a hurry."
"Don't mention it. I want a cold shower."
"If I don't miss my guess, it'll take more than a cold shower to get rid of that pole you're hiding in your pants. What did she feed you, anyway ?"
"Instant hard-on. What's this with Carmel trying to make you?"
"She kissed me and put her hands on me. I guess it must have been what I had to drink, but I found myself wanting more of it. And Barrington, I don't play with girls. But I'm still hot and bothered. What happened with you?"
"Marie turns out to be a masochist, among other things. She wanted me to beat hell out of her with a whip."
"And . . ."
"I beat hell out of her with a whip. I could not help myself. I didn't enjoy it, but I did it."
"I see." They pulled up in front of Elbe's apartment and went inside. Barrington slammed and locked the door, then turned to Ellie. She was already peeling her clothes off. He did the same. She looked at him. "You've still got it. How long will it stay up like that?"
Barrington thought of all the sex he'd had in the past two days. By all the laws of nature he shouldn't even be able to have an erection. Yet he had one, and it had been inside Marie's hot, demanding body for almost an hour, he guessed. Now he found himself wanting Ellie as she led him to the big bed.
"I don't know. Right now it feels like I could go forever."
"Let's find out."
She pulled him down to the bed and took it in her hands. He lowered himself between her parted thighs, felt her wet flesh open as the head found her vagina and thrust deeply inside.
CHAPTER SIX...
The nuzzling of Ellie's lips against his ear awakened Barrington. The sun was well up, streaming in the windows, and they were in her big bed.
"Hello," he mumbled. He felt pleasantly exhausted.
"Wow, did that stuff turn you into a tiger."
"Tell me . . . was it good?"
"It'll be a week before I can get my legs back together again. Just out of curiousity I timed it. You were in me over three hours. You kept coming and coming and it just wouldn't go down."
"I seem to remember. It was nice."
"Very nice. What do we do today?"
"More of the same?" Barrington asked, knowing that it could not be, even if he was physically capable. Sanchez had stuck him with a job, a job he felt very inadequate to attempt.
"Ooh youl" She laughed and rolled away from him, a gold goddess. "I'm starved. Want some breakfast?"
"Yeah. I could use some chow."
She scrambled eggs and cooked slabs of ham with it. They ate in lazy silence. Barrington decided he should look Sanchez up before the policeman looked him up instead. He kissed Ellie and drove back to the apartment house in the truck. Sanchez was home.
"Buenas dias," Sanchez said. "You look weary."
"I was raped. Marie fed me Spanish fly or something. Your undercover agent almost screwed himself to death."
Sanchez chuckled and fingered his hairline mustache. He flopped into a chair. "Did you learn anything?"
"Nah. Carmel was there. Sticking close to a Mexican boy named Luis. I don't have his last name."
"Ramirez. Luis Ramirez. Good. He has been under suspicion too."
"Well, nothing much happened. Carmel tried to cozy up to Ellie, made a pass at her. We smoked a few sticks of pot. Marie got me to perform abominations on her."
"You left early?"
"You're damned right we did. I know I said I'd help you, but that woman is too far out. She fed me something to drink that turned me into a sex monster."
"You are young and virile." Sanchez laughed. "You will recover. Were there any hard narcotics used?"
"Not that I saw. I don't really know what to look for. But nobody was running around with hypodermic needles, and I didn't see any bodies that looked like pincushions."
"Aah ... I have wondered if Carmel is a user of heroin, if she does what she is doing to assure her own supply."
"I don't think so. I saw all of her. No needle marks. And she doesn't seem to get nervous the way a junkie does when a fix is overdue."
"I see. Do you have any arrangement to see
Carmel again?"
"No. She's a casual type. I guess when I have to see her I just look her up," Barrington said.
"Hmmm-m-m-m . . . one thing is somewhat unfortunate. Your relationship to a very rich American girl."
"Oh? How so?"
"If you didn't have her, you could pretend to be short of money and willing to do things to get it. As it is Carmel and her friends will assume that as you are sleeping with her, she will provide you with anything you need. It is the way they think, these young, corrupt people."
"Ellie is a new thing with me. I've been as much beach bum as anything else, and they'll probably accept me as that. Anyway, I don't want to involve Ellie. I shouldn't have brought her to Marie's."
"It did no harm," Sanchez said. "And the girl wanted to see some action, didn't she?"
"Yeah. And by the way, her old man is here."
"I know. He has taken a suite of rooms in one of the beach hotels. He is with his wife and the man who flies his airplane. He is all business, that one. He even came to see the General, with an open wallet, wanting to know if there was any way he could do something about you, or, failing that, get Ellie deported. He was told there wasn't. Then he wanted to know who you were. The General told him you are a respected permanent resident with a private income. That seemed to make him feel a little better."
"Thank the General for building me up," Barrington said in a dry tone. "Pa Tiernan and
I didn't exactly hit it off when we met. I was in bed with his daughter and he took exception to this."
"An understandable reaction. What are your plans for the rest of the day?"
"Nothing much. I'm supposed to be an artist, so I guess I'll try again on the painting. Tonight I might cruise around and try to find a little action."
"Good enough. Let me know if anything comes up. And tell me, Barrington, does this all worry you much?"
"No. Why should it?"
"Because, my stupid friend, these people don't play for marbles. If they suspect you are working for me they may become unpleasant. I can let you have a gun, if you want."
"I wouldn't know what to do with one."
"Perhaps you should learn, while there is still time. You think you are being cultivated by Senora Hart because of your male beauty? No! That one has plans for you. I don't know what the plans are yet, but I know her and I know there must be plans. Cocks she can find anywhere in Mazatlan. She is being too nice to a young painter who is more of a beach bum. And she will use any means she has to get you to help her in what she wants. By this I mean she will try to find a way to use your girl."
"Ellie?" Barrington laughed. "Forget it. El-lie's a Texas gal and nobody uses her."
"They will find a way." Sanchez stirred himself, left the room briefly. When he came back he was carrying a small automatic pistol. "Here, take this. It is a colt .25. It can kill. You can shoot it easily. Just point it like a finger and pull the trigger."
"I don't want the damn thing!" Barrington tried to push it away. "I don't like guns."
"Take it anyway. At a distance it won't do much damage, but it makes a loud noise. You can carry it in a pocket and nobody will notice."
"Christ almighty," Barrington muttered. He pocketed the gun and left Sanchez' apartment.
He wanted to kick himself for getting into this. He damned himself for going down to Sanchez' place to ask if he knew about Ellie in the beginning, and then told himself that it didn't matter, that part of it. Sanchez was using him because he knew Marie Hart and she was attracted to him. Ellie was incidental to it. Perhaps if he worked it right he could persuade Ellie to go off someplace on her own for awhile. Certainly she would have to be persuaded - she was too strong-willed to simply be sent. He wished the Mexican cop would see fit to tell him more, but Sanchez apparently only intended to tell him what he absolutely had to know, and that was very little.
Just cuddle up to Marie and keep his eyes open for anything having to do with marcotics. Marie's strong sex drives were of little interest, apparently.
But the cop seemed to think they would use Ellie if they could.
But how could they?
Ellie didn't need anything they had. She was rich enough to buy half of Mexico and burn it down if she decided she didn't like it.
How in the hell could they get to a girl like that?
* * *
Carmel Kmito wheeled up to the door of El-lie's apartment on her yellow Honda 90 trail bike and put it on the kick stand. She went to the door and knocked. She wore the scantiest of bikinis. A beach bag was tied to the bike's luggage rack.
Ellie opened the door and showed no surprise at seeing Carmel.
"Hi," she said. "Come on in, I'm alone."
"Thanks. I was killing time. Thought you might be in the mood for a swim."
"I might be. Want a beer or a drink?"
"I could use something." She followed Ellie into the apartment, gazing in approval at its luxury. This was the way she would like to live, if she could manage it. "Last night was a bitch."
"You mean things got livelier."
"Did they ever. Marie got herself just a little warm with your boy. Inside of an hour she had us all stripped and it was grab-what-you-can. Luis screwed me in the ass so I can hardly sit. You're lucky you left when you did."
"I guess so." Ellie went about making drinks with plenty of rum and handed one to Carmel. They went onto the balcony which overlooked the ocean and sat, drinking slowly. "Barrington doesn't like Marie."
"Nobody does, but she has the money and she spends it. So we sell ourselves."
"That stinks. Should we go for a swim?"
They collected their beach things and went across the street to the fine white sand. They swam and then lay in the sun, letting it tan their sleek young bodies. They had the beach to themselves so they removed the tops of their swim suits and did not bother to put them back on when they finally returned to the apartment.
"Me for the shower," Ellie said, wiping at the stickiness of suntan lotion on her skin. "I itch from sand."
"Me too. Is it big enough for both of us?"
"I think so." Their eyes met. There was a strange look in Carmel's. Ellie knew what the look meant, but she was ready to try it for Barrington's sake, to get whatever it all was over with and get the Mexican cop off his back. "Come on."
It was crowded but possible. They soaped each other's bodies and jiggled together in the cold spray. Carmel's hands lingered as they moved over Elbe's breasts and against her mound. Ellie felt herself getting hot inside. She did not meet the younger girl's eyes as they dried themselves with thick towels and walked naked back to the living room. Ellie went into the kitchenette to make fresh drinks. Carmel followed, came up behind her and slid her hands to Elbe's breasts. Her lips nuzzled the back of Elbe's neck.
"I want to make love to you," she whispered.
Ellie turned in her arms. Carmel pulled her close and kissed her, sliding her tongue into El-lie's mouth. Ellie instinctively tried to pull back, then let the kiss go on. Barrington had to get close to this girl. If she herself could get close to her, it might help. Ellie had never made love with a woman. She liked men, and particularly Barrington. She thought he'd probably break her neck if he caught her like this. She felt the hot, wet lips pressing against hers, felt the suction of Carmel's tongue on her own. For a moment she wondered how many pussies, how many cocks, those lips had made love to, and decided it didn't matter. It was nothing a good strong mouthwash wouldn't take care of.
"I thought you had enough last night."
"Luis was brutal. He made me want the softness of a woman."
"You could go back to Marie."
"Marie would want me to whip her. I want to make love."
"I've never done it."
"I do everything."
"And get nothing in return?"
"Loving you is all I want. All I need."
"All right. Let me lock the door."
Ellie locked the apartment door. She let the girl lead her to the bedroom and arrange her the way she wanted. The curtains were still open and the sun was bright in the room. Ellie licked her lips and closed her eyes, waiting.
Carmel knelt beside her and kissed her first on the mouth. It was a deep, passionate kiss. Her hand went to Ellie's breast and Ellie could feel the nipple hardening. Then Carmel's lips were there, sucking, her mouth wide to take as much of the globe as she could. Ellie tried to think of Barrington but his image eluded her.
Then Carmel was kissing lower, opening her vagina, running her tongue into it.
"Easy," Ellie muttered. "I'm tender down there."
"I'll be gentle."
Carmel began to lick her steadily, making little, soft sounds of satisfaction as Elbe's hands closed on her head. In spite of herself, Ellie began to come, a steady pulsing that began deep within her and ended with the juices which were spilling from her onto Carmel's avid tongue.
Later they lay close together, smoking cigarettes, drinking beer.
"First time, wasn't it?" Carmel whispered. "Like it?"
"Yes. But not so I'd want it to become a habit."
"Don't worry as long as you're the one getting eaten." She chuckled. "It's time to sweat when you start thinking how it would be to use your own tongue on a girl."
"I'll remember that."
"Like, if I asked you to eat me, would you."
"No."
"Why not? It doesn't bite."
"I guess I'm not interested."
"I wish I wasn't, but I am. I'll want more."
It was almost dark when Carmel left. She had made love to Ellie again. With the door closed behind her, Ellie spent a long time washing. She scrubbed her mouth and gargled, remembering the way Carmel's tongue had probed. She wondered how it would be if she had to face Barrington before the memory of the girl faded. She was sure he would be able to tell something had happened just by looking at her. What she had done had been more natural than Barrington's performance with the whip, but still she hoped he never found out about it. She pulled a short beach robe around her nakedness, mixed a tall drink and went out to the patio to watch the last rays of the tropical sun, now below the horizon, play with fleecy clouds high in the sky over the old city.
* * *
Luis Ramirez was waiting in Carmel's room at the posada. He sprawled on the bed, naked except for his undershorts. It was hot in the room and the air was close, smelling of his talc and hair lotion.
"How'd it go, baby?" he asked.
"So-so. I don't think we can use her."
"She is not going back to the border?"
"Her father has no hold on her. And she's hooked on this Barrington guy."
"Could you get her hooked on you?"
"I tried. I went down on her but it's not her bag. I tried to get her to do me, swung around once so my pussy was right in front of her face but she didn't want it." She lit a cigarette and stripped off her bikini and flopped on the bed. "Too bad. They'd never check her car close at the border."
"Maybe if she had a fight with Barrington she would go home with a broken heart."
"You figure ways to engineer it. I can't." She rolled on her side and stubbed out her cigarette in an overflowing ashtray. "Tonight we better just hunt for somebody else."
"Okay." He grinned. "Hey ... I like this."
He worked a hand between the cheeks of her buttocks, and with his other hand stripped his shorts off. He moved close to her from behind, probing with his erect staff.
"My God, Luis! I can still feel you from last night."
"Just a quickie, honey. Roll over."
She turned on her stomach and he got between her legs. His fingers opened her buttocks. She sighed and arched her back, raising herself to him. He thrust and missed and she had to use her hand to guide him. She bit her lips against the pain and shoved her rump up and back to meet his steady, penetrating strokes.
* * *
Barrington was asleep in the early evening when the rapping on his door awakened him. He pulled on his faded jeans and opened it. Maggi Tiernan stood there.
"Hello, Barrington. May I come in for a minute?"
"Sure." Barrington stepped back and turned a light on. The woman followed and he waved her to a chair. She sat and crossed her legs. She wore a thin sweater and stretch slacks, both of which fit like a second skin. "Social call?"
"More like business. I won't beat around the bush. I'm supposed to find out how much it will take to pay you off."
"He wants me to quit seeing Ellie." Barrington laughed. "Tell him you wasted your time."
"I thought you might be like this. I tried to tell him. He thinks everybody has a price."
"I guess I'd have a price if I was after money. I'm not. I have enough, and I can always make more." Barrington lit a cigarette. "Go tell him Ellie and I are just friends. When we get tired of each other that will be it. We'll quit."
"And not until then." She appraised him with her eyes.
"That's about the size of it."
"Do you plan to marry her, Barrington?"
"I don't plan to marry anybody."
"She has oodles of money. And not bad looking."
"Look, Mrs. Tiernan . . ."
"Maggi," she interrupted.
"Maggi. I just met Ellie a couple of days ago. She was in trouble in the water and I pulled her out. We liked each other. We went to bed."
"You sure did!" She chuckled. "The look on Josh's face when he saw you sixty-nining each other! Anything but absolutely straight sex in the missionary position drives him buggy. If he'd had a gun he would have killed you."
"And not a jury in the world would have convicted him." He puffed his cigarette. "You go tell that man something, Maggi. You tell him sooner or later Ellie is going to take herself a permanent man, and there won't be a damn thing he can do about it. Someday he's going to be somebody's father-in-law, may God have mercy on the poor bastard, whoever he is."
She laughed heartily. "I know it. He does too, but he won't admit it. She's still his little girl. So what do I tell him?"
"Tell him the fishing is good here and he might as well do some of it and leave Ellie alone."
"Good for you, Barrington. Why don't you just move in with the girl?"
"We don't know each other that well yet. Maybe later."
"Yes . . . well, I'll see you around."
"You think he's going to stay."
"He'll stay until something is resolved."
"I thought all he had his mind on was business."
"That's pretty much the case, but as long as he's got a telephone and the radio in the plane he's not out of it. That man can go anywhere in the world and still make a million dollars overnight. Say, I've got to be going."
"Okay. Stop by anytime."
"I might at that. I'm twenty-five years younger than Josh. Maybe you can introduce me to someone who'll show me the local action."
"I might at that," he said, smiling.
He knew just the man for the job. Ramon Sanchez Morales. He had a feeling this one could handle Sanch.
CHAPTER SEVEN...
"Tell you what. Come on downstairs and we'll see if Sanchez is in."
"Who's Sanchez?"
He told her and she sat there with a speculative smile on her face.
"Secret police . . . h-m-m-m-m-m . . . does he have a torture chamber? Secret police always have torture chambers."
"He has a back room where he beats hell out of people." Barrington replied. "Why? Do you go for the bondage bit?"
"Barrington, I go for everything. I matured young. By the time I was sixteen the usual things were boring."
"What does the strait-laced Tiernan think of this?"
"He doesn't know, of course. He suspects I get a little loving on the side, and he does nothing about it. I'm not important enough for him to get excited about. If I displease him, I can be replaced. I have a lovely life, Barrington."
"Yeah. It sounds that way. Come on."
Sanchez was in. He had just finished shaving and was wearing slacks and a tee shirt which fit closely over the good muscle structure of his body. He is one handsome son of a bitch, Barrington thought. He introduced Maggi. Maggi ran her green eyes over the Mexican in an appraisal that was openly sexual. Unless Barrington missed his guess they would be in bed together before the night was out. Sanchez mixed rum drinks and put records on the player.
"No party tonight ?" Barrington asked.
"Tonight I work. I have some places to visit."
"More raids?" he asked.
"No. Just what you might call showing the flag. Letting them know they are being watched. Your consulate would like some pressure put on your teeny boppers. Would you like to come?"
"I don't think so," Barrington said. "It wouldn't be good if certain people saw us palling around together."
"You are right, of course."
"I'd like to come," Maggi put in. "If Barrington will keep his mouth shut."
"What you do is your own business and I don't know a damn thing about it. I'm going out now."
Barrington left them with Sanchez making fresh drinks. The Mexican winked at him as he went out. Barrington was restless. He didn't know what to do with himself. Finally he got into the truck and drove to Ellie's.
She wore a man's shirt and rolled-up faded jeans. She uncapped two bottles of beer and they drank them as he told her of Maggi's visit.
"About what I expected," Ellie said. "It looks like Pa is going to settle in for a siege. Does it bother you?"
"No. I told her just what I felt."
"About moving in with me . . . you can if you want, you know."
"I know. I'll think about it."
"I think I'd like it, having you here. Rolling over in bed at night and bumping up against you," she said.
"Let's give it some more time," Barrington replied. "Why don't we go crawl through the sewers?"
"Check the night life? Okay, let me change."
She put on a psychedelic-printed minidress that came just midway down her thighs. It was cut low at the top to show her swelling globes of her breasts almost to the nipples. Her sun-blonde hair fell loose and free past her shoulders. She put on high heels and gathered up a small purse. Then they went out, taking the Ferrari. They drove around the rim of the bay, past a line of night clubs with cars jammed in front of them. Barrington picked one at random and parked. He arranged with an urchin who was hanging around the entrance to watch the Ferrari for two pesos, meaning he bribed the brat not to break off the radio antenna and scrawl dirty words on the expensive paint job.
The night club was jammed. Barrington could not quite adjust to the fact that about half of those in the place were teen-agers, making the most of their opportunity to drink and live it up legally under the lax Mexican laws. He could smell the heaviness of marijuana in the air. There was a four-piece band, amplified beyond all reason. He bribed a waiter to set up a table for two close to the dance floor. They ordered beer and smoked while they drank the first round and then waved for a second. They pressed into the throng and danced, not touching, jerking their bodies to the music.
Later there was a floor show of sorts, including a third-rate comedian imported from the States. He did not go over well because he had to tell his jokes twice, once in English and then again in Spanish. Barrington became irritated and bored. He was thinking of suggesting they leave when Ellie nudged him.
"We have company," she said.
Barrington looked around to see Marie Hart and Carmel Kmito heading their way. He repressed a groan.
"Hello, darlings. We never expected to find you in this rat trap," Marie said, winking at Barrington.
Like hell you didn't, Barrington thought. Missing the Ferrari parked outside was like missing an elephant. He sighed and beckoned to the waiter for two more chairs, but the man was already bringing them, apparently in response to some signal from Marie. The two women sat down and ordered drinks. Carmel fixed her eyes on Ellie and smiled. Ellie looked at her steadily, without expression. Her dark eyes were somber, uncommunicative. The comedian finished his turn and the band began to play again, slower, more danceable music.
"Jeff, come out on the floor and rub bellies with me," Marie said, reaching across the table for his hand. She turned to Ellie. "You don't mind if I borrow Barrington, do you?"
"Barrington can take care of himself," Ellie said. At that moment she felt Carmel's hand on her leg, slowly sliding up her thigh, past the hem of her minidress. Carmel smiled. Ellie moved as if to push the hand away, then left it there.
On the floor Marie pressed her pelvis hard against Barrington and he could feel himself begin to grow tumescent. He tried to shut her out of his mind, make the growing erection go away. It didn't work. Marie's moist lips were close to his ear.
"We should leave this place, Barrington. Go to my house."
"Forget it."
"No. Really, we should. I have something new and rare."
"Like a new whip?"
"Oh, darling! It still hurts when I sit down. You were magnificent."
"Screw you, Marie."
"I'd like you to, but tonight's my night for girls. Carmel needs her little pussy eaten."
"Then go eat her and leave us alone."
"No. I like to do it better with an audience. And I told you I have something new. Some films just arrived from Scandinavia, and we're going to watch them. You must come."
"I don't want to come."
"How about your girl? Maybe she would."
"Ask her," Barrington said in a tone of resignation.
"And if she does, will you?"
"I suppose so," he said wearily. "I've seen dirty movies before without being corrupted. But none of that damn green stuff you fed us to drink or I'll break your neck."
"It worked beautifully on you darling, remind me to give you a bottle to take home."
They went back to the table, where Marie put the proposition to Ellie.
"Just the four of us? No wild party?" Ellie asked.
"Just us," Marie reassured her.
Ellie thought about it. She was not afraid of anything that might happen, only that Barrington might be angry if she said she wanted to go. But it would give him a chance to spend more time with Marie and Carmel, get close to them, and that could be important. She wanted the business ended as soon as possible so she and Barrington could concentrate on each other.
"All right," she said finally. "Why not?"
Marie had a room fitted out as a theater. There was a big sixteen millimeter projection machine, and a small bar on wheels. Couches were scattered around the room, each with an unobstructed view of a big screen that hung down from the ceiling. One of the servants came along to run the projector and make the drinks.
They settled themselves on two couches. Marie and Carmel stripped their clothes off before the first film began and settled on a couch, arms around each other.
"Why don't you two peel and let nature take its course?" Marie asked. She cupped Carmel's young breasts. "Like us."
"We're not part of the show," Barrington growled. "Let's get on with it."
The servant passed drinks around, then darkened the room. The projector began to whirl, projecting images in brilliant color on the screen. They watched. Ellie lay back in Barrington's arms, one knee raised. Her skirt slid up her thighs. Her eyes were fixed on the screen. After several minutes passed she found one of Barrington's hands, guided it to her mound and under the elastic edge of her thin panties. She pressed his fingers against her clitoris and he began to rub her. On the screen a blonde goddess was going down on a man, licking him slowly, teasing the head of his cock with her tongue, kissing it bngeringly. Ellie found the zipper of Barrington's slacks. She pulled it down. Her hand went inside and took his shaft out. She began to stroke it slowly, lightly.
The film ended and another began. It was the same thing done differently, as all such films are. The photography was good, the actors handsome and beautiful and imaginative. In this one a girl blew one man while another penetrated her anally, and then she took on three men at once, eating one while the other two thrust their penises into her pussy and ass. The room was almost dark. Barrington watched the two women on the other couch from the corner of his eye. Marie was kissing Carmel's breasts. Then she gradually licked her way down over the girl's body and slid off the couch to kneel beside it, between Carmel's outstretched legs. Her head moved to Carmel's mound and she began to eat her.
There were three other films. Ellie continued to frig Barrington slowly, lightly. Once she put her mouth close to his ear.
"I want to suck you."
"No! Not here ... not like this."
"I'm hot. My God, I'm hot. I don't mind if they watch. I want you in my mouth, want you to come there."
"No. You sit here and watch the show. I'm going to do a little looking around. If anyone misses me, tell them I went to the can. Have another drink."
"But why, Barrington? Why do you want to snoop around?" she whispered.
"Just curious. I won't be long."
He zipped up his pants and slipped away from her, out of the room without anyone noticing except the servant, who said nothing. He began to prowl the rooms of the big house. He was familiar with only a part of it. In the back of his mind he thought it would be good to locate the outer doors, in case he ever had to get himself out in a hurry. There was no telling what Sanchez had gotten him into. He found the bathroom and used it, then went on, through a dining hall, a sitting room, the big kitchen and off into what was apparently the bedroom wing. He recognized the room into which Marie had taken him for her perverted rite, turned the light on and searched it quickly, not expecting to find anything. The closets were filled only with her clothes, some of them bizzare costumes with sexual connotations. The bureau yielded a mass of feminine underthings and the usual things that women keep in bureaus. He found a jewel box half full of jewelry. He knew nothing of jewels, but the stones looked impressive. In a bottom compartment he found something more interesting - packets of a fine white powder. Heroin ?
He thought vaguely that you could tell by tasting the stuff, but he had no idea what it tasted like. He slipped one packet into a pocket. He could give it to Sanchez. The cop would know.
He tried to think whether Marie's body had been marked by needles. So far as he could remember it wasn't, but he had been half-drunk at the time and couldn't trust his memory.
There seemed to be nothing else of interest in the room. He went on to others in the wing.
He found the girl in the third one.
She was Mexican, a big-busted, narrow-hipped, long-legged girl he thought was probably eighteen or so. Her features were delicate, finely formed. Her mouth was wide, sensuous. She smiled when she saw him, showing perfect white teeth.
"Buenos tardes, senor," she said softly.
Barrington stared at her. She was stark naked. She had been lying on a bed, reading a softcover book with a lurid painting on the cover. It showed a naked girl being ravaged by a bull of a man.
"Well I'll be damned," he whispered. "Who are you?"
"My name is Consuelo. You don't have to be afraid of me."
"That's nice." She was making no effort to cover herself. In the light her skin was pale olive, glowing. Her breasts were high, firm cones, topped by darker aureoles and cherry nipples. Her pubic hair was thick, curling. She stretched and ran her hands along her flanks. "What in hell are you doing here?"
"Nothing. It is not time for me to do anything yet. In a few days I will begin to learn."
"Learn what?" he muttered, reflecting that Marie Hart's place abounded in bizzare situations.
"Why, to be a whore, of course. Why else would I be here?"
She said it matter-of-factly, as if learning to be a whore was of no more significance than learning to make a chocolate ice cream soda.
"Well I'll be damned." Barrington put his hands on his hips and studied the girl. She certainly had the looks and the body for the profession. She was one of the most beautiful girls he had ever seen, a tawny goddess. He tried to picture her working some tawdry bar and could not. Not this beautiful specimen. "Tell me about it."
"I thought you knew. I thought everyone here knew, but then I have not seen you before. I am waiting for the arrival of some other girls. When they come, Senora Hart and Senor Mon-dragon will begin our education. It will take a-bout two weeks. Then we will be sent out to work.
"I see," Barrington replied. Maybe Sanchez was wrong. Maybe Marie was pushing girls, not dope. "Just like that."
"Is it shocking to you?"
"A little, I guess."
"One thing you should understand. I am here because I wish to be here. It is the only way I can ever escape the poverty and hunger of my life."
"It's a hell of an escape route, in case you don't know," Barrington muttered. He was still somewhat overwhelmed by the situation. "Next you'll tell me you're a virgin."
"But I am." She flashed a smile. "I will not be when I leave, but I will know how to pretend to be one, for the men who want such a girl."
"Yeah. Where are your clothes? Did they take them away from you?"
"Of course not. They are in the closet. I was not expecting anyone to come." She smiled invitingly. "Would you like to lock the door and stay with me? There are some things I have been shown. You are a handsome man. I would like to try them with you."
"No thanks, baby. School's not keeping yet, and I don't have anything to do with it anyhow. I think I better leave now."
"Very well. I hope I see you again. Do you come here often?"
"Sometimes," Barrington said, thinking he could hardly escape coming here often until Sanchez was satisfied. "Who is this Mondragon guy?"
"Senor Mondragon is the man I will be working for. He is a good friend of Senora Hart's."
"I see. That figures. Well, I'll see you around, Consuelo."
He let himself out of the room, not quite believing what he had just experienced. A young and beautiful girl happily headed for a life of shame and exploitation. He wanted to tell her to run while she could, to get the hell out of this crazy place.
Instead he said nothing but went back to the room where the movies were being shown. Nothing had changed - he apparently had not been missed. Marie and Carmel were spread on the couch now, heads deep between each other's legs. The projector was still running. He put his hand on Ellie's shoulder.
"Let's get the hell out of here."
"Oh, yes! I want you desperately. Where?"
"My apartment."
"Let's hurry."
Barrington pushed the sports car hard, gunning it through screaming corners. Ellie's hand was on his penis.
At the apartment they locked the door and Ellie peeled her dress off over her head as she strode toward the bedroom. She slipped her thin panties down and stepped out of them, then began to undress Barrington. She stood for a moment, cupping his balls in her hand, weighing them as he stood by the side of the bed. Then she dropped to her knees and took him into her mouth. She teased the eye of his penis with the tip of her tongue and licked all the way around the head, then sucked it in and slowly drove her head forward, working the shaft from side to side in her mouth. She sucked hard and her hands went to his buttocks, pulling him close.
"The bed, Ellie," he whispered.
"I can take more of you this way. Throw me that pillow so I can kneel on it."
He handed her the pillow and she put it under her knees, then went back to mouthing him, wetting him with her saliva until he was slick and sliding in and out of her mouth like a well-oiled machine. Hot breath fanned through her nostrils. Barrington could feel his cock hardening, swelling as she worked on it. Her hands were lightly massaging his balls. He could feel himself getting ready to come, and come hard. He ran his fingers through the blonde mass of her hair.
"Look out, baby. It's coming!"
She responded with a moan of pleasure as his hips jerked toward her and he began to spurt in her mouth. The semen jetted down her throat and she sucked and swallowed. She stopped moving her head but did not back away. She drew hard on the head, her lips compressed around it, pulling every drop from him. He kept coming until he felt completely drained. Slowly she released him and stood. He tilted her mouth up to his and kissed her, tasting the saltiness of his juice, being excited by it.
"Wow, you came a lot," she whispered. "For a girl who never did it until a couple of days ago I'm turning into an insatiable fellatrice. I came when you did."
"It's good when you can do that. Ready for bed now?"
"I'm ready."
They went to bed and Ellie fell asleep almost immediately. Barrington could not sleep. His mind was on what was going on out at Marie's, and the glassine packet of white powder he had stolen. He eased out of bed and made himself a drink and smoked one of his rare cigars. After a time he heard Sanchez come in downstairs. In his mind he reviewed the situation with Marie and Carmel. He was accepted on their scene now. The question was, would she try to use him as anything more than a dubious partner in her far-out sex scenes?
He decided to go down and see Sanchez.
There was light coming from under the door of the policeman's apartment. The door was not locked. Barrington opened it quietly and went in. There was nobody in the living room. The bedroom door was ajar and he crossed to it, pushed it open.
Sanchez was on the bed, naked. Maggi Tiernan was under him, her arms locked around his back, her legs over his hips. Sanchez was pumping her hard, his behind rotating and plunging. Maggi's head was thrown back, her eyes closed, her mouth open and panting. She held Sanchez' balls in her hand, squeezing.
"My, oh my," Barrington said dryly. "Excuse me."
"Amigo!" Sanchez looked up at Barrington and continued to drive into the woman without missing a stroke. "A moment."
Maggi opened her eyes wide in surprise and tried to push Sanchez away. He held her tighter and thrust harder, his lips pulled tight against his fine white teeth. He trembled and gasped and came into her, then lay on top of her, his body flattening her breasts, for a few moments. Finally he pulled out of her and reached for his pants.
"We're even. You don't knock on doors either," Maggi said to Barrington. "You keep your mouth shut?"
"Yeah. What you do is your business."
"I'm not going to give you an explanation," she said.
"I don't want one. I just want to talk to Sanchez."
"Then I'll put my pants on and go home," she said. "Pa Tiernan is going to be wondering what happened to me."
"You'll think of a story," Barrington said.
In minutes the woman was gone. Sanchez splashed rum into glasses and handed Barrington one.
"What a hot piece, that one. I will have to see her again."
"You're fooling with dynamite. You know who she's married to."
"I am a man whose life is made up of taking chances. What did you come to see me about?"
"This." Barrington handed him the envelope of powder. "I swiped it from Marie."
"Did she have it on her?"
"No. Hidden in a jewel box. Think it's heroin?"
"Whatever it is, she obviously did not want it found. Will she miss it?"
"I don't know. There were other packages. Maybe a dozen."
"We will know soon. I will have it analyzed."
"There's something else. You know a guy named Mondragon?"
"Carlos Mondragon. The whoremaster."
"I guess so. He's got a deal going with Marie."
Barrington told him about finding the naked girl who wanted to become a whore. Sanchez nodded thoughtfully.
"It is not surprising. Mondragon combs the poor villages for beautiful young girls. He trains them to be whores and sends them to the big cities. I have known about him for a long time."
"And you haven't arrested him?"
"What he is doing is not exactly illegal. Nor is it exactly legal, either. It depends upon the authorities. I expect a call from Senor Mondragon in a few days."
"Oh?"
"Maybe you forget. The General and I are the authorities. He must make an arrangement with us."
"I see."
"We will make it easy for him this time. He is obviously closely connected with Senora Hart. I expect he will be her house guest. So you must think of a reason to spend as much time as possible at her hacienda."
"She lusts after my fair white body, but I'm damned if I'm going that route for you or anybody," Barrington said.
"You are doing very well so far. Just be there. Let her think there is a way you can be used. Give her an opportunity to make a move. When she does, we will be waiting."
"Oh, sweet."
"The most obvious way for you to be useful to her is to take a trip to the border. Let them plant the narcotics in your truck, and you play the mule."
"I don't think I like that."
"You would be protected. And I did give you a gun. Now, do you have a reason to go to the border?"
"No."
"Can you invent one?"
"Well, my auto permit needs renewing," Barrington said. "And I've got some completed pictures to sell. I don't like to ship them from here because they could get damaged. Usually I run up to Nogales and send them to my agent from there."
"Then there is no problem. When the time is right this is what you will do."
"And how do I know when the time is right?"
"I will tell you. I will know."
"Okay. Now I guess I'll go upstairs and get some sleep." Barrington lit another cigarette. "And don't you come pounding on my door. I have company."
"You are having a lot of company lately. I'm afraid you're neglecting your little Mexican girl."
"Carlotta?"
"She is in love with you. Didn't you know?"
"I feel sorry for her then. I'm not a good type to be in love with."
He left the apartment and went up the stairs. Ellie sighed contentedly and slid an arm over him as he got into bed beside her.
She was warm against him. Her hair smelled fresh and clean. Her breasts rose and fell with her breathing, brushing lightly against his chest.
Suddenly he realized it was more than a bed thing with them.
CHAPTER EIGHT...
Carlotta did not awaken them in the morning. She came, cleaned the rest of the apartment, set the table for breakfast and left the building, going to the market to do the day's shopping. Barrington and Ellie awoke while she was gone. They made love and Ellie cooked breakfast on the ancient gas range. Her face was flushed from their lovemaking. When they finished they left the dishes for the maid and drove to Ellie's apartment so she could change clothes.
Pa Tiernan was waiting for them in a chauffer-driven Cadillac. Maggi was not with him. He met them at the door of the apartment and they had no choice but to let him come in.
"No scenes, Pa, or I'm throwing you out," Ellie warned.
"I didn't come here to make a scene. I came to see if we can't reason together."
"Sure. You agree to let me live my life and I'll be quite reasonable," she replied.
"I don't want you laying everybody who fits your fancy," Tiernan said. "I know you've got the hot blood. I hope you've got something like good sense to go with it."
"I've got a mind of my own, and it's made up."
"I know, I know," he said soothingly. "I'm not so shook up now as I was at first. I've done me some checking."
"He's had his private detectives on you, Barrington," she said. "I expected it."
Barrington said nothing. He wondered if Tiernan had also shopped around for somebody to hit him over the head and drop him in the ocean. It could be done cheaply enough.
"I'm not happy, but not too unhappy, considering the circumstances," Tiernan went on. "For one thing, he's not married."
"I've never had an affair with a married man and you know it," Ellie retorted.
"He might have been without you knowing it. Lots of men leave their families and come to Mexico. Likewise, he does paint and makes what passes for a living at it. Painting's not my line, but then a lot of things ain't. Likewise, he has not skipped out on any bills, which I like in a man."
"Get to the point," Barrington said flatly.
"Well, point is I concluded you might just as well have your fling, because I can't do much about it anyway." He turned to Barrington. "As for you, boy, you start looking like you want to be any more than a boy friend with Ellie and I'll start taking a real close look at you. I'll get a report that would make an FBI file look like something worked up by a hick cop."
"You're not worried about Ellie," Barrington said in disgust. "You're thinking about the stinking money again."
"Sure. You ever get any, boy, you'll think about it a lot too. Well, I'll be goin'. You two behave."
Tiernan left. Ellie pulled her dress off and put on shorts and a halter that barely covered the globes of her breasts.
"Well, I'm always amazed by the old man but this time I'm fairly struck dumb," she said. "Barrington, you are as close to being accepted as you'll ever be."
"That's nice to know. I'd rather have him with me or neutral than against me."
"And don't be surprised if the price of your pictures suddenly takes a big jump."
"Huh?"
"Pa doesn't know anything about art, but he buys a lot, mostly as an investment but some of it to look at. Ten bucks to a hole in a doughnut that he passes the word on to the galleries he does business with that he likes you and suddenly you become in great demand."
"Why would he do that? Bribe?"
"No. We're safe down here, but if we go up to the States, well, the society editors keep an eye on me. It'll look better if I'm living with a successful artist than one nobody ever heard of."
"Oh, Christ." The disadvantages of Ellie's wealth were just beginning to make themselves known to Barrington. It was the sort of thing that could cause him to break off with her. He wondered if Pa Tiernan had shrewdly figured this out. He decided to let it go for the present and deal with it later if it became a problem. "Let's go for a swim."
"Sure. And later how about going into the old town on a shopping trip ? I want to send some gimcracks home."
They swam and lay in the sun and later Ellie fixed a fruit salad for lunch. They had a bottle of beer apiece and then drove into the narrow, winding streets of the old city, where the small shops were located. Barrington had been in Mexico long enough to be able to tell the good things from the tourist junk. Ellie made a number of small purchases, mostly leatherwork and jewelry, things which would travel well in the mails. To their surprise they found Luis Ramirez, the man who had been with Carmel, at the counter of a shop which specialized in fine silver articles. He recognized them immediately and a conspiratorial grin crossed his face.
"Ah, buenas tardes," he said. "It is good to see you again. You appear to have regained your health, Senor Barrington. This is a vigorous time in Mazatlan. Almost as vigorous as carnival."
The young Mexican's eyes told Barrington he knew what had gone on in Marie Hart's bedchamber. He looked boldly at Ellie's breasts and licked his sensual lips.
"There is something I can show you, perhaps," he said. "For friends I make one price. I make you a good price on anything in the shop. The shop itself if you desire!"
"Just a few small things, Luis," Ellie said. "For friends in the States."
"We have an excellent selection of necklaces, earrings and bracelets. I will show you." He slid back a panel and began pulling out trays. "So you are returning to the States?"
"Only for a few days," she said. "I have to go to the border to renew my tourist card and car papers."
"It is a long, hot trip through the desert."
"She won't be alone," Barrington put in curtly. He wanted to shoot a ivhy the hell did you tell him something like that"! look at Ellie. "I have some paintings to deliver."
"Ah, then that will make an entirely different kind of trip. You must let me give you these." He pressed two small silver medals on them. "In honor of Saint Christopher, the patron of travelers. They have already been blessed by the padres. I do not know if you are Catholics but they will do no harm in any case."
"Well, thank you. Thank you very much," Ellie said.
"When do you plan to leave?"
"I don't know. A week or so. There's no hurry," she replied.
"Then I will probably see you before you leave."
"Undoubtedly," Ellie replied in a naive tone.
She bought several things and then left the shop with Barrington. They went to a small bar and ordered beer.
"Just what the hell got into you, telling him something like that?" Barrington demanded. "You've no idea of what you might get yourself into."
"Isn't it what Sanchez told you? That they look for people going to the border? Well, it seemed like a way to bring things to a head."
"Maybe something like a bullet to the head! You idiot!"
"So we don't have to go. Nobody's forcing us," she said. "I think you should talk it over with Sanchez."
"You bet I'll talk to him," Barrington growled. He finished his beer. "Let's go home."
"An excellent development," Sanchez said after Barrington had finished telling him of the conversation with Luis Ramirez. "Excellent. You have a very smart girl."
"She has holes in her head. I have half a mind not to let her do it."
"There should be no danger. My agents will have you in sight all the way. You will have more to worry about on your side of the border."
"How's that?"
"It is there they will go after the stuff. They will plant it somehow in the girl's car here. They will try to recover it on the other side. Naturally, their people will trail you to the border, in case something goes wrong."
"What's likely to go wrong?" Barrington asked.
"Nothing. But you could have an accident. The car could break down, and it is almost impossible to get a Ferrari worked on in Mexico. There are many little things which could happen."
"You're sure we'll get through the border okay?"
"With only the briefest inspection of luggage. Enough to make it look good to those who will watch. Now, what are you doing tonight?"
"Nothing. Not a damn thing."
"Wrong. You are coming here. Alone."
"I am? Tell me why."
"Because there will be some people I want you to meet. The man Mondragon in particular."
"Mondragon's coming here?" Barrington's eyebrows went up.
"To make the necessary arrangements with me for moving his girls. He arrived today at Sen-ora Hart's with four. It is my suspicion also that he is involved in the narcotics smuggling, but he is clean so far. His car has been searched. Now that we have planted the idea that they can use you and your girl, I want to give him a chance to look you over."
"And just what do I do?"
"You just be here. That's all. If he invites you to go out to Senora Hart's, go with him."
"Hey, I don't like that."
"It won't corrupt you any more than you're already corrupted. Sooner or later you will have to get a look at what I call her fucking academy for lack of a better term."
"Huh?"
"The school she runs. The young girls who are brought to her are ignorant of the world. They must be taught how to dress, how to take a drink, how to satisfy a man in many ways. The senora instructs them in these things. Also, there are motion pictures made for distribution in the States. A reel of film which costs a dollar to produce here sells for forty or fifty times that in the blue market north of the border."
"This is something I can't quite figure a-bout Marie," Barrington said. "I know she's loaded with money from her divorce. She doesn't have to screw around with narcotics and peddling girls."
"Perhaps so," Sanchez said. "But she is also a sensualist, a hedonist. Let us say it is her hobby."
"Yeah." Barrington remembered the scene with the whip and the session Marie had had with Carmel, and with his own eyes he had seen one of the girls. "I'll buy that."
"Then I will see you in a few hours. Come down any time after you hear the music start. You'd better get some sleep now. It could be a long night."
Barrington took the suggestion. He went to his apartment, stripped, mixed himself a drink and lay on the bed sipping it and smoking. He was glad Ellie could be left out of whatever was to come. He slept for several hours and was finally awakened by the blare of Sanchez' hi-fi. He dressed in sports clothes and went downstairs.
There were about a dozen people in the a-partment, and for once the nubile teen-age sex kittens that Sanchez preferred were conspicuous by their absence. This was an older group, with everybody at least of college age. Barrington glanced into a bedroom and saw it was occupied. A blond-headed American boy lay on the bed with a Mexican girl. Her dress was pushed up and her panties were on the floor by the bed. The boy had his fingers in her. His pants were down around his knees and the girl had his penis in her hand. She was pumping it as they kissed. He watched the boy roll on top of the girl, take his hand out and shove his penis into her.
The night was off to a good start, he concluded. He went to the bar and got himself a beer.
He saw Sanchez off in a corner, talking with a slender, long-haired man in a business suit and a woman in a close-fitting cocktail sheath. She had silver-dyed hair which was rolled high on her head. Her face was pretty, with pouting, sensual lips that peeled back in a laugh, showing strong teeth. Barrington drifted over to them.
Sanchez made the introductions. The man was Mondragon. The woman's name was Beth Lane. She appraised Barrington boldly with deep brown eyes, surveying the breadth of his shoulders, the narrowness of his waist, the way the tight slacks bunched up at his crotch. She licked her lips.
"Ah, Senor Barrington. Senora Hart has spoken of you to me," Mondragon said. "She is fond of you."
"That's nice," Barrington said noncommitally.
Mondragon set about making small talk. To Barrington the man had an elusive personality. He didn't seem to be much of anything. Mondragon sounded him out about his living in Mexico. Barrington gave him straight answers. There was no reason not to. He wondered if Marie had briefed Mondragon on Ellie and was sure that she had. However, the man gave no hint that he knew she existed. In time others came up to talk to Mondragon and Barrington drifted off to the bar for another drink. Several girls introduced themselves to him. They were American, down from various colleges for the fun week, and not of any interest to him.
About half an hour passed before Beth Lane sought him out. He was on the balcony, looking down at the water, wishing he was lying on the dark beach with Ellie instead of stuck in this lash-up. Beth had a martini in her hand. She sat on the rail of the balcony and stretched her legs out. Her dress was miniskirt length and now it slid farther up her thighs. She had good legs, slender and tapered. She knew he was looking at them and smiled.
"You live upstairs?" she asked.
"Yes."
"And do your painting there? Or do you have a studio?"
"No. The light is good enough there."
"I'd like to see your work."
"Maybe someday I'll show it to you."
"Someday I may not be here. Show me now."
He hesitated, then said, "All right."
They left the apartment and went upstairs. The door locked itself behind them. Barrington turned on low lights.
"Well, there they are. The walls are thick with them."
"Make me a drink while I look. Martini."
"All I have is rum."
"Rum then. On the rocks." She moved a-round the room, studying the paintings. Barrington made her a drink. She stood close to him, watching him over the rim of the glass. "They look pretty good to me."
"They're fair. I can live off them."
"But not well. No artist lives well. They all have to die before their work is worth a damn to the collectors." She sipped the drink. "I didn't really come here to see pictures."
"No."
"Are you going to make me say it - say why I had you bring me up here."
"Why not?"
"All right. I want you to fuck me."
"Just like that. Did it occur to you that I might not want to?"
"You want to. It shows in your eyes. You've got a hard-on."
"Maybe I'm thinking of somebody else."
"Think of anybody you want, but fuck me. I'll suck you off first if you want. I'm good at that."
"Take off your clothes."
She put the drink down and reached for the hem of the dress. She drew it over her head in a single swift motion. She wore nothing underneath it and now she stood, hipshot, one leg slightly bent, wearing nothing but her high heels. Barrington took his clothes off and led her to the bedroom. She had a magnificent figure. High, jutting breasts with long nipples. A narrow waist, flat belly, richly curving hips and buttocks. She carried her clutch purse into the room and took a tube of some sort from it. She squeezed something onto her fingers, parted the cheeks of her buttocks and rubbed it in there.
"I'll do anyhing you want, but then you have to do me."
"I'm not going to eat you. I don't know you that well."
"You don't have to." She grabbed his turgid staff, and squeezed it hard. "I want you to fuck me in the ass."
"Uh-uh."
"Why not?"
"It just doesn't appeal to me."
"I'll make it appeal to you. Let's get on the bed."
She pushed him down to the bed and straddled him, then bent over and took him into her mouth. As she sucked on the head she reached up and undid her hair, letting it fall in a silver cascade. He saw she had dyed her pubic hair the same color. Or maybe it wasn't a dye job. He guessed it was possible to have hair that color naturally. She worked on him for several minutes with her mouth, tonguing him, nibbling, sucking like it was a fat straw she had between her lips. Then she took her mouth away and lay on her side, thrusting her rump at him.
"You're slippery enough. You'll go in easy."
"I don't want to." But he turned and fitted himself to the curve of her back. She arched herself and he could feel his prick slip beween her cheeks. He parted them and tried to get into her vagina. "How's this?"
"No." He felt her twist, and he slipped a-way. "If you don't want to put it in, just push there for a minute. I'll come just getting prodded."
He pushed his pelvis forward and she arched herself back at him. He could feel the head of it at her passage. She was slick there from the grease she had used. They began to work against each other in a steady rubbing motion.
"A little harder," she pleaded. "Hold me by the shoulders."
He reached around her, cupping her breasts for a minute, then locked his hands over her shoulders. He was getting harder and hotter from the feel of her rump rubbing against him.
"Just push the head in," she whispered. "Please."
"It'll hurt. I think you must be some kind of nut."
"I know what I'm doing. Push! Hard!"
Against his conscious will he did. He felt her anus open before the thrust, and then he was inside. She was hot and she was tighter on him than any girl's puss had ever been. She raised her upper leg and wriggled her behind, managing to take more of him. He began a steady in-and-out pumping, moving only an inch or two at a time.
"Aah - yes. I like that," she whispered. "You like it too."
"You're tight."
"I'll loosen up. Roll me on my belly."
He found himself obeying. Her legs were spread wide and he was between them. The globes of her buttocks thrust up at him rhythmically. He could see he was halfway into her. Suddenly the urgency hit him and he stabbed deep, meeting resistance. He kept up the pressure and she moaned and twisted under him.
"All of it! Stick it all the way in," she gasped.
He reached below her along her belly to her crotch. He found her clitoris and fingered it. She trembled and he could feel an orgasm shake her.
He stroked into her as she raised her behind, and felt his balls slap against her rump He was buried in her. He rested.
"Move . . . move around a little. In and out. Do it hard!"
He began to pump into her. She was still far tighter than anything he had ever experienced, but she was slick and he could move easily in her now. His breathing began to get heavy as he worked on her. She met his strokes with twisting, grinding motions of her ass. She was breathing heavily, coming steadily every few minutes. Barrington felt the pressure begin inside him and increased the pace of his strokes. Then the semen shot through him hotly and spilled into her. He moaned deeply.
"Ooh, yes, I can feel it! Come! Come! Come!" she gasped.
He drained himself and lay there. Her sphincter muscle held him tightly in place. He had to work to pull out of her. He went to the bathroom and washed, feeling no particular emotion. She was just a girl who had wanted to get fucked in the ass and he had obliged her. Emotionally she was a zero. He thought of Ellie and felt no guilt. What he had done was not of any importance. He wondered what Beth Lane was to Mondragon. He was sure Mondragon knew they were up here together. He half suspected he had ordered the silver blonde to seduce him, and wondered what the point of it all was.
He mixed fresh drinks and took them into the bedroom. She lay there and watched him. She was slowly fingering her clitoris, a lazy look in her eyes.
"You're good," she said after tasting her drink. "I wonder if you might be interested in a litle part-time work. Pleasant, and it'll pay good."
"Probably not, but tell me."
"Work with me. You know Mondragon's line, why he's here."
"You offering me a job as a pimp?" he demanded angrily.
"Nothing like that." She laughed. "I need a partner, a man to work with. I instruct the girls. Teach them how to screw and blow a man the right way. Make him come in two minutes or stay hard half the night. It's an art. I don't like to use just any man who's handy. I want one who can match me in the screwing department. I think you qualify. And I like your looks. With you it would be more than just a job."
"Forget it. There are plenty of young studs on the beach. Just go pick out a likely one."
"It would pay well."
"So would painting, if I did enough of it. And it isn't so tiring."
"You'd have your choice of some fine young pussy. Some of them are even virgins. Have you ever had a virgin?"
"Not that I know of." He thought of the young Mexican girl waiting at Marie's. "I like a woman with some experience."
"Would you come to Marie's tomorrow night?"
"What for?"
"We've got five new girls. One's an absolute beauty. A lot of Spanish blood, with just enough
Indian to make it interesting. She's a virgin, or so our doctor says."
"I told you I'm not interested." He thought of the girl, Consuelo. Beth had to be talking a-bout her. "No."
"She'd make a wonderful model for you. You can have her for just that if you want. No obligation."
"Don't have to buy, huh? Just send the coupon for a free sample of the merchandise." He smiled. "I don't do many nudes."
"But you've been trying."
It was true. A couple of paintings in the apartment were of Carlotta, but she had not worked out. She was not good at posing, and while she was wild in bed with him, she seemed uncomfortable under his eyes as he tried to paint her. Too, the arrangement would give him a chance to see what was going on at Marie's and report to Sanchez.
"I'll think about it."
"Good." She smiled. "Does watching me finger myself get you hot."
"Why?"
"You're getting another hard-on."
"I wasn't even thinking about it."
"I'm thinking about it. Put it in me."
"Straight."
"If that's what you want. I'll show you how good pussy can be."
It took her almost an hour to show him.
CHAPTER NINE...
When Barrington brought her back downstairs the group had diminished somewhat. Sanchez and Mondragon were closeted in the bedroom, and when they came out they shook hands. Mondragon left with Beth a short time later. Barrington hung around awhile, got tired of the scene and drove out to Ellie's. She was in bed, sleeping. He slipped in beside her and cuddled up. She made muttering sounds and slid an arm around him, pulling herself close. She did not wake up. In the morning she went down on him as he slept and when he was hard and awake they made love.
Then she told him she was going to Mexico City.
"Just for a few days. I think it might be good to give us a rest, Barrington. I don't know about you but I might let our little gestures of mutual affection get out of hand. Start thinking about things that just aren't in the cards or something. Anyway, Pa and Maggi are going down in the jet and I said I'd go along. I want to buy some clothes, and that's something you can't do in Mazatlan."
"He'll kidnap you. He'll turn that jet around and the next thing you know you'll be getting off in Dallas or someplace," Barrington protested, not wanting her to go.
"He won't. But you wouldn't like that?"
"I wouldn't like that."
"Good. I'll come back. Meanwhile I'll leave my car with you. Use it."
"Okay. When do you leave?"
"I'm supposed to meet them at eleven."
He took her to the airport. Josh Tiernan was cordial. It was with some relief that Barrington watched the big- silver plane lift into the air and scream off to the south.
Barrington felt a strange emptiness with her gone. It was not something he could explain. It was just there. He went back to the apartment and spent the afternoon painting. Sanchez came upstairs about the time he was deciding to knock off and relax with a drink. He was mildly satisfied with the result of his work although the effort had been a mechanical thing.
"Well, what did you think of Mondragon? Or I should say what did you think of his lady friend?" Sanchez asked.
"Nothing much one way or the other about him," Barrington said as he sipped his drink. "She's some kind of a nut. Got me in bed and then propositioned me. Wants me to be a sort of demonstration stud in their school for young whores."
"And you accepted, of course."
"Go to hell," Barrington grunted.
"But I want you to get in with them."
"That's too deep. But she did offer to let me use a girl as a model. I think the one I saw out there."
"Then that might be sufficient. What would your girl say?"
"She's gone with her old man for a few days."
"For our purposes this is just as well. I suggest you go to Senora Hart's tonight and look into this model business."
"I'll be raped. I'm sure I'll be raped," Barrington said with a wry grin. "I've been getting so damn much sex lately that I can't stand it. I'm bound to give out sometime. The flesh only lasts so long."
"I have a restorative if you need it."
"That stuff Marie fed me would put life in a dead elephant," Barrington said. "All right - I'll go there."
There were a half-dozen cars and a Volks-wagon microbus at Marie's when he arrived. A servant led him in and directed him to the big room.
"He's here! I knew he'd come," Marie said, advancing on him with open arms. "You can't resist me, can you darling?"
"Try me."
He looked around the room. There were five young girls in a group, one of them Consuelo. She looked at him as if she had never seen him before. He saw an American couple he vaguely remembered from the country club, and a fat Mexican who owned a small fleet of fishing boats. Luis Ramirez and Carmel Kmito and Mondragon and Beth Lane were also there. He accepted a drink and held it in his hand. He wondered what was on the agenda for the night, what part they expected him to play.
"Where's your girl?" Marie asked. "I see you have her car."
"Out of town. Otherwise I wouldn't be here."
"You are a gracious guest," she said sarcastically. "Well, what do you think of our young beauties?"
Barrington considered the girls. They were undeniably pretty, with tawny olive skins, fine-boned faces, lush figures which would probably run to weight in a few years but were perfect now. He wondered if they had any idea of the life ahead of them and said as much.
"Ah, it is not life in the tawdry houses that awaits these beauties," Mondragon told him. "They are too fine to waste that way. They will be available by appointment only. They will live in nice apartments and have fine cars."
"Every girl's idea of heaven, huh ?" Barrington said.
"It will be better than living in a mud hut with their bellies swollen with children they can not feed," Marie said.
"That's one way of looking at it," he conceded. "Beth said I could have one for a model. I'd like the one on the left."
"Aah, ConsUelo," Marie said. "She is beautiful, and her figure is a match for her face. Magnificent."
Barrington silently agreed that Consuelo did look magnificent. There were blue highlights to her black hair. It was cut in long bangs across her forehead. Her breasts jutted out of a low-cut blouse, nipples sharp against the thin fabric. The tight skirt molded her fine hips. Her legs were long and gracefully curved, her feet small in high heel pumps.
"She looks like she'll do. I'll have to see her with her clothes off," Barrington said.
"You'll have plenty of chances," Marie told him. "Now we must begin our first session."
"Session?" Barrington repeated.
"Training session. These girls are inexperienced. They must be taught the arts of love, and the first step in teaching is a demonstration," Mondragon said. "Would you like to participate?"
"I'll be a voyeur for now."
"Then you must have another drink. And one of my cigarettes," Marie said. She motioned to a servant, who brought a tray of drinks. "It won't kill you. Just make you appreciate what you see a little more."
Barrington saw the drinks were made with the same greenish liqueur which had made him insatiable on his first trip here with Ellie. He didn't want one, but felt he had to go along with it. He damned Ramon Sanchez Morales. He took the drink and one of Marie's marijuana cigarettes and lit up. He could feel an almost immediate effect and reminded himself of the need for self-control.
Marie was calling the others to the dais at the end of the room. She addressed herself primarily to the young girls, speaking in Spanish. She told them they were to watch and see how love was properly made to a man.
With this Beth Lane removed her clothes and pirouetted before the group, nude except for high heels. A door opened and a huge Mexican came in. He was buck naked. He had an immense penis and it was fully erect, swaying from side to side with his balls as he walked to the dais. Barrington recognized him as one of the servants. He and Beth stepped up on the dais and moved to the oriental couch as Marie kept up a running commentary in Spanish, directing her remarks to the five girls. She spoke so fast that Barrington got only part of what she said. Beth was reaching out, fingering the throbbing penis, pulling back the foreskin and pinching the head. She had a glazed look in her eyes.
The Mexican lay on his back on the couch. Beth knelt on it, her knees level with his hips. Her hair was up in a roll and those in the room had an unobstructed view of her face. She bent and began to kiss the man on the mouth, running her tongue in and out of his lips. She nibbled at an earlobe and gradually her mouth moved lower, across his chest to his nipples. He was almost hairless there. Her tongue flicked at him like a snake's tongue. Her hand went to his penis and began to rub it as her mouth moved down across his flat, muscled belly. Then for a moment the blonde straightened up, still stroking the immense phallus, and slowly wet her lips. The young girls crowded in close, watching.
Beth lowered her head and lingeringly kissed the tip of the man's cock, flicking it with her tongue. She licked around it, then moved her head lower and began to kiss his balls, taking them into her mouth. She licked up his staff a-gain until her mouth reached the head. She opened her lips wide and took it between them, rolling her head around for a long time, licking, sucking. Then she lowered her head and took as much of the staff as her mouth could hold. Barrington saw there were several inches of the man left. It was the biggest penis he had ever seen. He noticed the American couple had crowded close, their eyes glazed with lust as Beth's head bobbed up and down. She did it slowly, as Marie explained the various points of the French technique. Finally Marie was satisfied and spoke to Beth. She released the man from her lips and got up.
He had not come. He lay there placidly and looked at the faces surrounding him, waiting. Marie spoke to the girls and after a moment of hesitation they began to strip. Marie spoke a-gain and they looked uncomfortably at each other. Finally Consuelo stepped forward, the cones of her breasts jiggling as she moved. Barrington could see the nipples were distended, swollen with excitement. She got on the couch with the man and hesitantly took his prick in her hand. She moved her hand up and down and rubbed her thumb over the tip as Marie spoke to her. Finally she dipped her head. She tongued the man for a minute, then opened her mouth wide and fitted it over the head of his penis. Her cheeks compressed as she sucked, without moving her head. Marie spoke again and slowly she worked her mouth down. The penis glistened with her saliva. She squirmed into a more comfortable position and began fondling his balls. A soft humming sound came from her throat. Her hair tumbled forward and brushed against the man's thighs. Her eyes were half closed. She seemed to enjoy what she was doing, seemed to have forgotten the watchers.
Finally Marie spoke to her again and she stopped sucking. She took her mouth away and seemed to be reluctant to do it, covering the head of the phallus with little kisses. The man still had not come. One by one the other girls took Consuelo's place and went through the same routine.
Marie drifted to Barrington's side and spoke to him in a low voice.
"That one's going to be good. You see the way she went at him?"
"Yeah," he said sourly. "She seemed to get the idea."
"And a virgin at that. A little later I'm going to eat her virgin pussy. I've never had one."
"Why do that? I mean, why teach them that sort of thing?"
"Darling, a lot of the really big-money calls are from women. You'd be surprised."
"I don't think I'd be surprised by anything any more," Barrington replied. He finished his drink and took another. He lit up one of his own cigarettes. The marijuana had had little effect on him, although he could feel Marie's aphrodisiac working on his loins. "If she's going to be my model, I'd better meet her."
"I'll call her over before she gets herself grabbed by the Americans. They're supposed to get their choice of the new girls for a foursome, but Consuelo is reserved for you tonight."
"You mean I get to take her home?"
"Hardly, darling. We can't have the merchandise running loose with the likes of you. You can stay here tonight, and in the morning you can get your things and begin painting her, if that suits your mood. You're not afraid to stay here, are you?"
"I'm not afraid of you, Marie," he said bluntly. "It's just that you give me the creeps."
She laughed gaily, as if he had paid her a compliment. She beckoned Consuelo over and introduced her to Barrington. The girl was still naked. She carried one of the green drinks. Any feeling of self-consciousness seemed to have left her. She smiled up at Barrington, giving no indication that she had ever seen him before.
"So you are going to paint me. Good."
"Why is it good?" Barrington asked, smiling.
"Because someday I want to be a model instead of a whore. I want to go to your United States, and you have laws against whores."
"A lot of models are whores. And vice versa."
"True. Are you going to sleep with me tonight?"
"Me? I thought you were supposed to be a virgin."
"When I cease to be is of no consequence."
"Maybe you'd prefer the man on the couch. I know he'd bigger than I am."
"He is too big. The thought of having him in me first is frightening. Even my mouth could hardly take him."
"But you went first. Why?"
"I had to go sometimes." She shrugged. "I thought it would be better to be first. Then if one of the other girls had a disease, I would not get it."
"Yes. How old are you?"
"Seventeen. Is my age important?"
"No. I just wonder how a beauty like you got to be that old and is still a virgin."
"Sometimes I wonder myself." She laughed. "It is not my fault, but the fault of my parents. They watched me closely."
"Yet there you are, in this place. How come?"
"They died." She said it simply, without emotion. "I went without enough food for too long. Then Senor Mondragon found me and made me an offer."
"And you are here of your own free will."
"Oh, absolutely." She drained her drink, looked around and said, "Here comes Senora Hart. For me."
"Maybe for me," Barrington said.
"No. She wants to make love to me, and this is the time. See, they have finished sucking the big one's cock."
Barrington looked to the couch and saw it was true. He was shocked to see that the woman with him was not one of the Mexican girls but the American. She had taken off her clothes. Now her lips glistened with the Mexican's ' semen. Her husband took her in his arms and kissed her, ramming his tongue into her mouth, sucking.
"She paid a hundred dollars to do that. I know," Consuelo said. "She should work for senor Mondragon and get paid."
Marie came and led Cansuelo away to the couch. She embraced the Mexican girl and slowly laid her down as Beth explained to the others what was about to happen.
Barrington watched without emotion as Marie went down on Consuelo. She parted the lips of the girl's vagina and put her mouth on it, sucking avidly. She moved back a little and began using her tongue, fluttering it like butterfly wings against the button of Consuelo's clitoris. Consuelo's hips moved in excitement and her fingers tangled in Marie's hair. The other girls crowded in close to watch.
Barrington wandered off in search of another drink. He could now feel those he'd already had. He had an erection that was throbbing with urgency. He saw Carmel watching him. She licked her lips suggestively and pouted when he shook his head no. Luis Ramirez had Beth Lane in a corner. She was rubbing the front of his pants slowly. He had a hand between the bare cheeks of her buttocks, fingering her. She moved around and backed up to him, thrusting her rump against him. Barrington figured she'd probably get it the way she liked it tonight. In time Marie brought Consuelo to repeated orgasms and apparently had one herself because she released the girl and stood, licking her lips. Her eyes were heavy-lidded and sensual. Consuelo came back to him.
"It is getting late, and we are done for the night. Would you like to come to my room?" she asked.
"Yes. I want you badly now."
They went to a bedchamber that was somewhat smaller than the one Barrington had been in with Marie, but no less luxuriously appointed. The walls were mirrored, the bed oversized. Barrington wasted no time taking his clothes off.
Consuelo watched, catching her breath as his rigid penis popped out of his shorts. Naked, Barrington embraced her, fitting his cock between her legs. She closed her thighs tight on it and rocked back and forth as she put her open mouth up for a kiss. He hesitated, remembering that she had gone down on the Mexican, then kissed her, meeting her tongue with his. They moved to the bed and fell on it.
"How many of those drinks did you have?" she asked.
"Three."
"Good. You will last a long time." She stroked him. "Can I do what I was doing first? You are not so big and it will be easier for me."
"If you want."
"I want you to shoot in my mouth."
"All right."
He lay back and she began to work on him. Her mouth was liquid fire, her tongue a wet, teasing whip as she moved down over his body and licked the insides of his thighs. She had learned her lesson well, he thought, as her lips closed over the head of his cock and slid down it almost to the base until she could take no more. She began to suck hard, rotating her head, bobbing it up and down frantically. He lay back and watched their multiple images in the mirrors. It was very erotic. He stroked her knees and she parted her thighs for his fingers, making soft animal sounds but not interrupting the ministrations of her mouth. Then everything bunched up inside him and he came, hard, spurting his semen into her mouth. She sucked at him and swallowed convulsively and took her lips a-way only when there was no more in him. She stretched out on the bed, her body tight to his.
"So that's what it's like," she murmured.
"Did you like it?"
"Very much. It is salty like the sea water and it burns a little in my throat, but I like it." She caressed him. "You are very hard."
"It's the liquor. Would you like a cigarette?"
"Yes. And then we will continue." She took the cigarette he lit for her and puffed on it. "Will you be gentle with me?"
"I'll try. It will probably hurt some."
"I expect that. It is all right. Do you want to eat me first?"
"No. I don't want my mouth where Senora Hart's was."
"I understand."
They smoked and began to caress each other. She massaged his balls lightly and ran her fingers over his staff, playing with the head. He bent and kissed her nipples, nibbling them, feeling them grow against his lips. He put his hand between her legs and fingered her mound, parting the lips of her vagina, playing with the clitoris. He eased a finger into her tight passage and felt the thin membrane of her maidenhead. She gasped at his touch. Finally he mounted her, fitting himself between her parted legs. Her thighs were hot satin where they touched his. He rubbed the length of his penis against her belly and she raised to meet him, moaning softly. He raised up and she took his cock in her hands and guided it to the opened lips of her vagina. If she was frightened she gave no sign. She raised her buttocks to reach him better. He felt himself slide between the outer lips and then the head of his penis encountered resistance.
"This is it," he whispered.
"Push! Push it into me," she ordered.
He did, rotating his buttocks, working at the obstruction. He felt something give and knew the membrane was ripping. He pressed on until the entire head was inside the moist warmth of her, then rested.
"Hurt?" he asked softly.
"A little. Put it all in."
Gradually he worked deeper. She spread her thighs wide, bucking her pelvis up at him. Her hands clasped his buttocks and pulled him downward. With a final thrust he sank to the depths of her. She was tight. He could feel the little quakings of muscles deep inside her. He pumped her slowly and she matched his strokes with her own movements. Her open mouth was on his shoulder and he could feel her teeth sinking into him.
"Aah . . . yes. Yes I Do it harder!
He increased the speed and intensity of his strokes, ground himself against her hard, feeling her clitoris rigid against the base of his shaft. They settled into a steady rhythm and she gasped with pleasure. After several minutes he felt her tense and shudder under him as an orgasm flowed through her. She went wild, clawing his back, heaving her hips up to him. She was wonderfully tight and hot on his shaft. Her vagina was like a living thing. The lips sucked at his rod as it moved in and out between them. She was slick and hot down there. Barrington began to feel himself grow bigger, harder inside her and knew he was close. His mouth was next to her ear.
"It's coming," he said hoarsely. "Coming now!"
"Oh yes! Let it come! Shoot in me!"
He trembled as the semen jetted through him, spurting against the mouth of her womb. He came as if he had not come less than an hour before. The sensation was deep, prolonged. He lay on her, arms holding her close as her arms were holding him. Her mouth found his and she sucked on his tongue. Her hands caressed his balls lightly. Finally they released each other and he rolled off her. He lit cigarettes for them.
"So that is what it's like," she whispered. "I will like being a whore."
"Most men will want you to suck them instead."
"It is all right. I like sucking. Only 1 like to come."
"A lot of girls come that way. Perhaps you will when you have more experience."
"Perhaps. I hope so." She reached for him. "You are still hard."
"It's that damn green stuff. I'll want you again in the morning."
"Good. Now tell me what I must do to be a model for you."
"You have to hold a position a long time. No talk. Just stand or sit as I want you. It can be very tiring."
"I will learn. I will try to please you," she said. "When do we start?"
"In the morning I will get my painting things. I think I will paint you in the courtyard, by the old well."
"It is pretty there. Will you want me naked?"
"Yes. Does the thought of being naked outdoors where people can see bother you?"
"After I have had a man's cock in my mouth in a room full of people nothing will bother me, Senor Barrington." She blew smoke from her parted lips. "But will I bother you? Is it possible you may want to take me to bed instead of paint?"
"No. When I paint, that's it. Later I might want you."
"I hope so." She smiled, showing the fine white teeth. "I will be ready when you do."
CHAPTER TEN ...
Barrington found Consuelo even more eager in the morning than she had been the night before.
"I am tender but I want you in me," she said.
He still felt the effects of the green liqueur and he took her with wild abandon. Then he dressed and drove the Ferrari to his apartment, where he found Carlotta cleaning up. She made him some breakfast without commenting on his absence or trying to get him into bed, for which he was grateful. He got his easel and painting things and put them in the car. Sanchez intercepted him as he was about to leave.
"You look like you had a busy night," he commented.
"I did. Too busy. Today I'm going back there to start painting one of the girls."
"One thing 1 must know - that I can depend on you. That you will drive this car to the border soon."
"Yeah. You can depend on it. Matter of fact I could go while Elbe's away."
"No. It would look strange to them, you taking her car for such a journey while she is going to be gone only a few days. It will be better if she goes with you."
"But that's exactly what I don't want, exposing her to this," Barrington protested.
"It could be that she would be more exposed if she was left alone in Mazatlan. 1 promise that there will be no danger for her if she goes with you. If she stayed here, they might just get the idea of taking her to assure that you do just what they want."
"They wouldn't dare kidnap her!"
"I can tell you this . . . they have about a million dollars at stake. They will protect themselves any way they can."
"Frankly, 1 think you've got a hell of a nerve, involving us in this damn thing," Barrington growled.
"Look at it this way. You are doing both our governments a great service."
"Bullshit. Just tell me what I have to do."
"Just act naturally. Let them know the car will be going north. Give them an idea of when."
"How the hell can I do that when I don't know myself?" Barrington said testily. "I don't even know when Ellie's coming back."
"Then tell them it will be shortly after you finish your painting of the girl. That will have to do."
"All right."
"And from now on, park the car where it can be watched from the surrounding hills. And make it possible for them to get at it without interruption," Sanchez instructed. "They will need an opportunity to conceal the stuff in it, and I want my agents to be able to see this."
"Your people will be watching me, then?"
"Constantly. You will not see them, but they will be there."
"How will I know them."
"I just told you - you will not even see them."
"I'm thinking about the bad guys. You know that after they plant the stuff they're not going to let it out of their sight."
"So anybody you see hanging around is to be regarded with suspicion. You still have the little gun?"
"I have it."
"I suggest you carry it, just in case. Although I think you are perfectly safe. They need you greatly."
"Small comfort." Barrington squashed out his cigarette. "I'd better get out there while the sun's right."
He drove to Marie's and lugged his things from the car to the walled patio and set up his easel and paint box. Consuelo was waiting for him. There was an old well with a wall about three feet high. She took her clothes off and posed for him in a variety of stances until he found one he liked. In the sun she was a bronzed vision. Her blue-black hair had bright highlights in it. Marie came out and watched critically for a while. She licked her lips as she eyed the girl.
"You must let me have her tonight," she said.
"Get lost. She's mine while I'm here, remember?"
"Then I will have her during siesta today. What I do to her will only make her more eager for you later."
"You're a perverted bitch, Marie."
"No. My desires are no different than those of most peopie. Deep inside, you enjoyed whipping me . . . but you won't admit it to yourself. It is just that I allow myself the pleasures which appeal to me. And Consuelo appeals to me. She was very good in bed, wasn't she?"
"She was good," he admitted.
"She was absolutely wild ... I know."
"How would you know?" he asked suspiciously.
"Because I watched, of course. Those are two-way mirrors. You didn't think I'd miss the deflowering of a virgin, did you?"
"I might have guessed," he moaned.
"The pictures came out beautifully too. We made movies, of-course." She laughed gaily. "A pity you didn't go down on her. That would have made it more interesting."
"Oh, for Christ's sake!" Barrington turned away, disgusted with her and with herself. He called to Consuelo. "Okay, kid, that's about all for this morning. See you after siesta."
He watched Marie lead the still-naked girl away toward the bedroom wing of the big house. He went in and told one of the servants he would like some lunch. He ate and then went to Consuelo's empty room, where he stretched out on the bed and slept. He determined he would not spend another night in the house, no matter what Sanchez wanted.
The days passed, and he worked steadily on the painting. Consuelo was a good model and she came alive on the canvas. He thought the picture was probably the best thing he had ever done, and he was grudgingly grateful to Marie for this. He had not been to bed with Consuelo again. He had returned to his apartment each night and had slept alone, closing the door a-gainst Carlotta. The little Mexican maid went about her work with tight-lipped sullenness. He was sorry for this but there was no way to avoid it, short of taking her to bed, which he did not want to do.
Happily, Sanchez left him alone.
The trouble came to him on the third night.
He was taking a walk after dusk, along the waterfront where the fishing boats tied up. At this hour the area was almost deserted. In the distance he could hear a mariachi band playing, and the occasional honking of a car horn. Not far away the ocean lapped at pilings and boats sighed at their moorings.
So far as he could figure out, there were three of them, three dark shadows moving at him from a pier, coming silently and swiftly. They were on him in an instant, bearing him to the sand, slugging and kicking him. He yelled in alarm and flailed out at them and tried to break away, but they were ready for this. Arms went around him from behind and one man stepped in close and slugged him in the face. The fist had something in it, something hard. It jarred Barrington and he felt his lips pulp under the blow. He squirmed and shouted again and kicked back, connecting with a shin, bringing a gutteral yelp of pain. He got an arm free and slashed back, using his elbow, felt it sink into a torso, deep and hard. The man who was holding him from behind expelled his breath in a rush, and let go. Barrington got his feet under him and pivoted, crouching, getting ready for their next attack.
It came quickly. One of them kicked at him and connected with his knee. He dropped to one knee in the sand and a hurtling body bowled him over. A fist came at him and grazed the side of his head, and he saw stars. He shook his head and got both feet under him again and came up off the ground swinging. Then one of them was behind him again, pinning his arms to his sides in the grip of a vise. He felt fists slam into his guts, driving the wind from him. He gasped in pain and tried to kick out at them. Their greater weight carried him back against a piling and he felt rough splinters of wood gouge his flesh. He shook himself like a terrier and lashed out at them, felt a fist connect solidly with a jaw, saw a man stumble and fall back and lie groaning on the sand, then get to his feet and begin to run erratically away. The others wrestled with him. He got an arm free and judo-chopped at the dim outline of a face.
Then, suddenly, there were other men there, men with flashlights. They came running across the sand toward him. His assailants turned and fled, cursing in Spanish. He stood there puffing and let them go, waited for his rescuers.
But they, too, were running. Not after the men who had attacked him. Just running away, leaving him alone on the sand, alone and confused by it all. He leaned against a piling for sup-
port as he caught his breath. He took stock of his injuries. His mouth hurt. So did his ribs and belly, but nothing seemed to be permanently damaged. The knee they had kicked felt sore and weak, but it would support his weight. Slowly he walked across the band of sand to the street, and then back to his apartment.
He let himself in, locked the door behind him and made himself a stiff drink of rum. He lit a cigar and sat down on the balcony to smoke and drink and think about it.
Sanchez had said there was no danger.
Sanchez was obviously full of shit.
He was on his second drink when somebody tried the door, then knocked lightly.
"Who is it?" he called warily.
"Sanchez."
Barrington opened the door, not turning on a light. The secret police boss slipped into the room and shut the door behind him.
"You had some trouble," he said.
"You could put it that way. I got pounded on."
"That is what I heard. I do not understand it. How many were there?"
"Three, I think. I didn't get a good look."
"Were you hurt?"
"Nothing serious. A few lumps and a fat lip."
"Then it is not serious."
"It's serious to me. They could have killed me."
"I don't think they wanted to kill you. If they had, they could have used a knife before my men got there. The question is, who were they, and why were they after you?"
"I don't know. Those were your men who chased them off?"
"Yes."
"Why didn't they go after them. Catch them and find out who they were."
"Things are at a delicate stage. It is best if we don't catch anybody just yet."
"Well, I could get nervous, playing mouse while everybody else is a cat."
"Try not to let it worry you. Did you have the gun?"
"No."
"I think you'd better carry it."
"I think I might."
They left it that way. Barrington did carry the gun. He went to a remote spot one afternoon and fired it a few times. He was mildly surprised to come close to what he was aiming at. On the sixth day, as he painted, he had a conversation with Consuelo, whose fine olive skin was darkening from her continued exposure to the sun. She was lovely. Frequently Barrington had the urge to put brush and easel down, take her to the bedroom and sink himself deep between the satin thighs, but he had continued to work.
"We . . . the other girls and myself . . . Will be leaving in a few days," she said. "Is the painting almost finished?"
"Almost. Another day. Where will you be going?"
"They are sending me to Hermosillo first.
After I have adjusted to the life and they can prepare papers for me I may go to the United States. I think I would like that."
"Depends on where you are in the States. Some places, being a Mexican isn't too good."
"I would like to have an air-conditioned a-partment and a car of my own. They promise me these things. I have learned well what they wanted me to learn."
"Has it been bad?" he asked. "No." She shrugged. "I have learned what it is like to be fucked by one man right after another, and to satisfy three men at once, and to eat cunt. Most of it I like. It is only unpleasant when they put their cocks in my bottom. I don't think I will ever like that."
"I know. Some women do," Barrington said, thinking of Beth Lane. "When they get bored with other ways."
"I don't think I shall ever get bored." She laughed gaily. "Will you sleep with me again before I go? You were the first, and I would like to have you again."
Barrington considered it. He had come to like Consuelo during the past few days. Also, he had been without a woman longer than was normal for him, and she was utterly desirable. "Yes," he said. "Tonight, if you like."
"I will be waiting. Will you stay all night."
"Yes. And I will drink some of the green liqueur first."
"Aah, good!"
He ate dinner with Marie and Mondragon that night. Later some guests came to watch pornographic films and look the new girls over. Barrington got the impression that Mondragon's operation was quite widespread throughout the country, that he was known as a whoremaster who had only the best merchandise. Barrington let them know he would be occupied with Consuelo for the night, thinking he would make it plain to them that this was an excellent chance for them to plant their stuff in the Ferrari, if they were ever going to do it. He intended to give them every opportunity, and hoped that whoever Sanchez had planted in the hills overlooking the hacienda had a good pair of night glasses. Or perhaps such long-distance surveillance wouldn't be necessary. He suspected Sanchez had subverted one or two of the servants or even planted one of his own people on the staff. At any rate, it wasn't his worry.
He was just going to be the mule, the delivery man.
About eleven o'clock he excused himself from the others in the theater and went to Con-suelo's room. She was waiting for him in bed, naked. She stretched luxuriously, opening her body to him, as he stripped. He felt supercharged with desire. His penis seemed ready to explode. He could hardly wait to get into her, but she insisted on delaying.
"I must show you all the things I have learned," she said.
She took him on a trip around the world first, licking at every inch of his body, nibbling him with her small teeth. When he could stand the teasing of her tongue no longer she took his cock into her mouth and sucked it. Time after time she brought him to the point of climax and then took her lips away, letting him subside before going down on him again. Finally he could hold back no more and the semen exploded into her mouth, filling it, almost making her choke as she gulped it down. She laughed happily and kissed him, letting him taste himself as she stroked his still-hard cock.
They smoked and he drank a bottle of beer, then began kissing her. He sucked the cones of her breasts into his mouth and licked them and finally his tongue trailed down over her belly to her cleft. She caught his head.
"You don't have to do that for me," she whispered.
"I want to. Not for you . . . for me."
"All right. For both of us."
She lay back and spread her thighs for his head. He opened the lips of her vagina and put his mouth on it, feeling the dark silk of the hair which covered her mound. His lips found her clitoris and sucked it avidly. There was an exciting scent and taste of musk to her. He tongued around the edges and thrust his tongue deep into the passage, fluttering its tip against the walls. She squealed in delight and clasped his head to her. Her hips began to raise and rotate and she bucked her pelvis against his mouth.
When she came she screamed in ecstasy and ran her fingers through his hair. She was still screaming as he reared up and shoved his cock deep into her. She locked her legs around him and they rocked together on the bed. Barrington had no idea how much time passed before the spasm hit him and he pumped his juices into her young, vibrant body. They kept at each other. She showed him everything she had been taught, and he admitted they had taught her extremely well.
At one point she rolled on her stomach, shoved her rump high and pleaded with him to take her there.
"You don't like it," he said. "It hurts you."
"With you it will not hurt. I want to feel everything with you."
He pushed into her vagina to wet himself and then took her as she wished. She absorbed his entire length slowly, easily, and rose to meet his strokes eagerly, rotating her hips and jerking her behind back at him. He felt his balls slamming against the spheres of her buttocks as he came again. It was almost dawn when they finally fell asleep. She wanted to make love a-gain when they awoke, around eleven in the morning, but he was not able. Instead they went out to the courtyard, where he put the finishing touches on the painting. That afternoon he drove into town to his apartment. He was vaguely a-ware of a car which turned out of a side road and followed him at a distance. He paid no attention to it, took it as an indication that they had stashed the narcotics in the Ferrari and were now keeping an eye on their investment.
He took a shower, mixed himself a drink and lay naked on the bed, sipping it slowly, After about half an hour Sanchez came into the apartment without knocking, fixed himself a drink and came to sit on the edge of the bed.
"You can go to the border anytime," the Mexican said. "They have the stuff planted."
"I guessed as much," Barrington said wearily. "I was followed into town."
"The stuff is in the Ferrari's rear seat. From the size of the packages I would guess what you are carrying is heroin, probably enough to bring a million dollars when cut for the American market. In Mexico it costs a tenth of that. And because we knew what to expect, we have been able to trace it to its source in this country. It comes originally from Red China, through Cuba," Sanchez told him.
"Don't tell me your troubles. You get the people who did it?"
"It" is too early. The American authorities want to see where it goes on the other side of the border."
"Now we get to the part that makes me nervous. Driving around with a million bucks in heroin in my back seat isn't my bag," Barrington told him.
"You are a worrier." The Mexican cop grinned.
"Shit, who wouldn't be. I'm not built for this."
"Just act as you normally would. When you get across the border, just park your car where it can be watched. Don't go hiding it in alleys and garages. Their people will try to pick it up and your part will be finished. You will never know when they have collected it. You may read later in the papers how they themselves are collected, but there will be no suspicion attached to you. You will be able to return to Mexico and pick up your life as it was before," Sanchez said. "With Ellie, if she chooses to come back with you. Have you thought about that?"
"I've thought about it. Also I've thought about those hoods who tried to beat on my head. You get anything more on them?"
"Nothing yet. It will come in in time. These things always do. Whoever they were, they are not likely to bother you again."
"The hell you say."
"We frightened them. You by your hard reaction. My people by being there."
"A crock of shit," Barrington said. "But you know, it never occurred to me until you brought it up, that Ellie might not want to come back to me."
"Barrington, I think you might be in love with her."
"You wouldn't have thought so if you'd seen me last night. I screwed my model."
"It is a natural thing, with your girl gone." He laughed. "I have a girl in Guadalajara that I love very much. You see how I conduct myself here. It does not make me love her less. Next year we will be married."
"Yeah. You're quite a philosopher. Thanks for the kind words. I was beginning to think of myself as a sex fiend."
"That is what comes of hanging around Se-nora Hart and Mondragon."
"You sent me there. I didn't want any part of whoremasters and dope pushers."
"I know. Perhaps there will be a way to make it up to you."
"The kids . . . Carmel and Luis. How deep in are they?"
"They are minor cogs in the machine. Children of lust. They live for their kicks. They perform in the dirty movies. They recruit the young ones to perform in them. They lend themselves to the narcotics without knowing."
"But if they knew, it would make no difference. They would do it anyway," Barrington said positively.
"I think you are right."
"The whole thing makes me sick. Get the hell out of here, Sanch."
"Okay. Buenas noches, amigo."
Sanchez let himself out. Barrington had one more drink and smoked a thin cigar. Then he went to bed and quickly fell asleep. He was still exhausted from Consuelo.
Two days later Ellie returned. He had no warning that she was coming. She simply walked in the door as he worked at his easel. They fell into each other's arms and were in bed within minutes, and she clamped herself to him with a savagery he hadn't known before. She began to come almost as soon as he was in her, crying out wildly, clutching him to her, raking his back with her nails. He spent himself quickly, his fingers tight on her rump. They smoked and had a drink and she wanted to go again. He was soft and she used her mouth on him to make him hard again and this time it lasted longer. Finally they dozed away the rest of the afternoon.
"You look like somebody hammered on you," she said finally. "Who did it?"
"Beats hell out of me. They shoved off without leaving a card."
"Something with this business with Sanchez?"
"I don't think so. His people got me out of it. Nobody tells me much."
"Then you tell him. Tell him to go screw himself."
"We're in too deep. And I think it was something else anyway. Probably just a few pachucos thought they could take some bread from me."
"You don't believe it and I don't either. But I know you've got to be your own man, lover, so for now we'll forget it. Ask me about my trip."
"Okay. How was your trip?"
"Not bad. Not bad at all. I even bought some clothes which really isn't why I went, as you know."
"Yeah. And how are things with Josh Tiernan? You know, I suspect he might have hired those clowns to hammer on me."
"It could be. I'll find out, just give me time. Meanwhile, he's being a good Indian. He agrees I can stay down here as long as I like. Meaning he agrees I can live with you. Think we should shack up, Barrington?"
"I don't know," Barrington said seriously. "I know I missed you a lot. But we've had a sort of holiday thing. A lot of excitement. Day-today living can get boring. And I can get damn moody when the painting doesn't go right."
"I have my moods. I can be an awful bitch," she told him. "I think Mazatlan will bore me finally. But this is a big country. I'd like to see more of it. Not as a tourist."
"I've got no particular ties here. It's a place to work and live. But we've got to settle this business for Sanchez first."
"Yes. And how is it coming?"
He told her in some detail. He even told her of Marie's school for young whores and of painting Consuelo. He did not tell her he had slept with the girl.
"Will you show me the painting?" she said.
He pawed throught the pile of canvasses he was going to take to the border, got it out and propped it against the wall where the light was good. She studied it for several minutes.
"That, my friend, is a hell of a good piece of work. I even think if Pa sees it he'll want to buy it. If he does, hold him up for a small fortune." She smiled knowingly. "Is she good in bed?"
"Very good now," said Barrington, who knew better than to try a lie. "When she went there she was a virgin."
"Did you get her cherry?"
"Yes," he admitted.
"Well don't be hangdog about it. Somebody had to. I wish you'd gotten mine, but then I would have missed out on eight years of fun."
"You were only fourteen?" Barrington asked.
"Let's not talk about it. He was a cow jockey. I had hot pants. I seduced him, and enjoyed it. Like I seduced you and enjoyed it. But I've never screwed a guy just to get cock, lover. I always liked the guy first."
"That's nice," he muttered.
"Don't sound so damn put-on. Relax and enjoy me. When do we head for the border?"
"Anytime. They've got the stuff planted. But first I've got something on my mind."
"Can I help?"
"You can go get Maggi. For a very short time. I have a question to ask her."
"Maggi ... but why?"
"Nothing really important. Just go get her."
"Maggi keeps a close mouth."
"For me she'll open it," said Barrington, remembering the scene in Sanchez' apartment. "Go get her."
Ellie did. She brought Maggi to the apartment and shut the door, then sat in a corner and tried to be inconspicuous.
"Maggi, I have one question," Barrington began. "Did Josh try to have me killed?"
"Barrington!" She gasped his name.
"Cut the shit," he said coldly. "Somebody did. Killed or worked over, it doesn't matter much which, because it didn't work. I took some lumps, but they took more. I just want to know what the rules are."
"Oh, Christ . . "
"This is no prayer meeting. Did he or didn't he? If he didn't, I'll have to look a little farther. But he's the logical one."
"He did it," she said after a long minute.
"He didn't want you killed. Just worked over."
"I see," Barrington said slowly. "Well you go tell that man something for me. Tell him I am in love with his daughter and what is more I intend to knock her up higher than a kite. I intend to give him a grandchild whether he likes it or not. Now go. Tell him, Maggi."
"I'll tell him. He'll kill you."
"He tried that once, and it didn't work."
"Barrington . . . you might at least ask me about this!" Ellie said explosively.
"You can throw your diaphragm away, or quit taking the pill, or whatever," he said sharply. "Or if you don't like the idea, keep your legs crossed. I said my piece."
"You've got a madman on your hands, Ellie," Maggi said.
"I know," she replied. "Now I guess you can leave."
"Leave you with this?" Maggi stared at Barrington.
"I can handle it. Go."
Maggi went. Ellie shut the door firmly behind her and then pressed herself tightly against Barrington.
"Did you mean that? Really."
"Every word."
"Then it's more than a bed thing."
"A hell of a lot more."
"Well, we have plenty of time. First we should get this other mess off our hands. When do we go to the border?"
"Any time. The morning, if you want. We can spend the night in Guaymas, reach Nogales the second afternoon and go on to Tucson."
"Why Tucson?" she asked.
"Because the gallery that handles my stuff is there. Also, it's the first place I can buy supplies."
"Okay." She grinned at him. "Before we go, I'd like to get a look at your virgin model. Think you can arrange it?"
"It'll mean going out to Marie's."
"We've gone there before and survived."
They had cocktails and an early dinner at the Copa de Leche. Barrington was aware of headlights behind him on the lonely road, but they never got close. Also, he had the .25 automatic in his pocket. Marie met them with a look of surprise on her face.
"My God, it's good to see some faces. This place has been like a morgue the last couple of days."
"You're not alone?" Barrington asked.
"Practically. Mondragon and Beth left with their covey of quail. But Luis and Carmel are here, of course."
"Consuelo's gone?" Barrington said. "We came to see her. Ellie saw my painting and wanted to meet the girl."
"She's at Hermosiilo. I can give you an address."
"We'll be going through there, Barrington," Ellie said.
"Oh? You're taking a trip?" Marie asked.
"To Tucson with some paintings," Barrington said.
"When?" Marie was suddenly alert.
"We leave in the morning," Barrington told her.
"So soon! You'll want some sleep tonight," Marie said. "But come in for a drink first."
They allowed themselves to be led into the big room and the bar, where the servant who had been a practice stud for the girls made Margaritas.
"Why did you want to meet Consuelo, Ellie?" Marie asked.
"I'm not sure," she replied. "She must be very beautiful. And maybe I just want to see the girl Barrington laid while I was gone."
"Ah . . . you know about that."
"I could tell by looking at the picture."
"Jealous?"
"Curious."
"Well, we can re-create the scene for you," Marie said. "We took some pictures Barrington didn't know about."
"Marie - goddammit!" Barrington snapped.
"So why not, lover," Ellie said, grinning. "I'd like to see you in action with somebody else. See if you've been holding back with me."
"Let's go to the theater," Marie said.
She told the big Mexican to come along and run the projector, and led the way to the room where the movies were shown. Barrington went along, feeling like a reluctant dog on the end of a strong leash. Marie sat and said, "You'll love this."
The lights were turned down and the film began running through the projector. Barrington felt strange as he watched the image of himself and Consuelo. The photography was expert. They had used more than one camera and they had zoom lenses for extreme close-ups. In one segment the head of his penis filled the screen and was slowly enclosed by the wide, sensual lips of the girl. Her mouth slid down his staff, cheeks moving in as she sucked, and her fingers played with his balls.
Barrington felt Ellie's hand move to his fly, zip it open and slip inside to squeeze his cock. On the screen he had just come and Consuelo was taking her mouth away from him. Her lips glistened with his semen. Then there was a shot of him on top of her, the head of his cock at the lips of her vagina, penetrating it for the first time. The camera showed the lips of her vagina holding tight to his penis as it drove deep into her and withdrew repeatedly. Barrington felt sick and fascinated at the same time. He could feel the insistent squeezing of Ellie's hand on him. Finally the film ended.
"Quite a performer, your boy," Marie said to Ellie. "Did you see the blood run when he took her cherry?"
"I almost came then," Ellie said frankly. She zipped his fly closed. "We've got to go now."
"I know. You want to take him to bed. I don't blame you." She found a piece of paper and wrote on it, then handed it to Barrington. "Consuelo's address."
At Barrington's apartment, Ellie went into the bathroom while he made drinks for them.
When she came out she was naked.
"Did you mean what you told Maggi?" she asked.
"I meant it."
"Okay. I'm not on the pill. My diaphragm's in there. I want you to fill my womb with your come and if we get a baby out of it, well, we'll just have to love it and bring it up the best we can."
"You're sure," he said softly.
"I've never been more sure of anything."
She was insatiable that night, a wild woman who could not get enough of him. When she finally fell asleep it was with her head in his lap, his limp penis between her lips. She sucked him in her sleep as a child will suck its bottle.
Barrington had set his alarm clock for dawn. Ellie slept through it. He eased out of bed, pulled his clothes on and spent some time loading his paintings and a small suitcase into the truck of the Ferrari. He woke Ellie and they had a light breakfast, then drove by her place to pick up the clothes she would need. By the time the sun was well over the mountains to the east they were headed north, with the car doing a steady seventy-five.
From time to time Barrington glanced in the rear-view mirror. At first there was no sign of pursuit. Finally he slowed down and made a couple of beer stops at tiny villages to give the people who had to be back there a chance to catch up.
They came to Guaymas in the late afternoon. The fishing town was lazy in the warm spring sun. He gassed the car and then drove to a large motel on the beach. They changed to bathing suits and swam in the surf for a half-hour, then went into the bar and settled down to drinking Margaritas.
Other cars began pulling in and their occupants registering for the night. Barrington eyed those which came from the south closely, wondering which were the ones following them. Certainly they would have one of Mondragon's people on their tail. And one or more of Sanchez' agents.
Finally they went to their room and dressed in sports clothes for dinner. It was still early and so they went back to the bar. There, Barrington's attention was immediately caught by a young woman who sat at one of the tables in the lounge.
"Ho-ho-ho," he said softly. "Now there's a pair of kissworthy knees."
The woman wore a black cocktail sheath that was hiked well up her thighs and cut low enough in front to show the full, peaking breasts. She had a mouth that was wide and red. Her hair was a dark brown, with sun highlights in it. Her legs were long and fine. Now Barrington remembered her driving in to the motel. She had a Ford convertible with Texas plates. But she looked Mexican and he could hear her speak perfect Spanish as she gave her order to the waiter.
"She's something nice, but you're stuck with me," Ellie said. "Remember?"
"How could I forget? But she's got Texas tags on her car and so have we. We should be friendly and invite her over for a drink."
"Listen lover, watching you in the movies is one thing. Having you try to make this doll under my very eyes is something else."
"Right in front of God and everybody?"
"If you're like this now, what'll it be like when I'm heavy with child?" Ellie grinned. "Okay. Invite her."
Barrington went over to the woman and did just that. She accepted with a flashing smile, speaking unaccented English. Her name was Lila James. She ran a dress shop in Dallas and had been to Puerto Vallarta for a brief vacation. Her eyes said frankly that she would like to try Barrington, but would forego this because he was taken.
Barrington thought that in the right circumstances he'd like to try her. She had the kind of body which would fit well under his, and her eyes said she knew the ways of love.
After about half an hour a slender American man came in and looked around the cocktail lounge with knowing eyes. They lingered on Barrington's table and the two women. He was wearing espensive sports clothes, somewhat rumpled from what must have been a long drive. His face was lean and hawkish. He looked to be about thirty, give or take a couple of years.
"He's interesting, Jeff," Lila said. "Invite him over."
"Okay with me," Barrington said. He approached the man and introduced himself. The man seemed surprised for a moment, then smiled and accepted. The smile showed a mouth full of good, white teeth. Barrington led him back to the table and said, "Girls, this is Cliff Marks. He's with Volkswagen."
Marks sat. He seemed to quickly realize that of the two women, Lila was the available one, and he concentrated his attention on her. He made no overt pass, nor did his conversation have sexual overtones. But by the time they took their third round of drinks into the dining room for dinner they all knew he was going to sleep with Lila that night. Lila flushed as she looked from Ellie to Barrington, as if thinking there was something to be explained. Their return glances told her no explanation was necessary. They finished a leisurely dinner and went back to the lounge, where a hi-fi set played dance music.
They danced. The woman fit herself to Barrington with a fluid grace. He could feel the hot pressure of her breasts through his thin shirt, feel the mound of her pelvis against his crotch, the brushing of her long legs against his own. She was a sensual creature. He knew if Ellie had not been there he would have fought Marks for her.
"I wonder how we'll be together," she said softly. "I wonder if I'll come a real screamer or if it'll be just another lay."
"He looks competent," Barrington said.
"I'm sure he is. The way he looks at me tells me that. I wonder how good I'm going to be for him. Whether I'll go down on him just because it's part of the way I make love or because I really want his cock in my mouth. Do I shock you, talking this way?"
"No. I think I know what you mean. There are girls I want to eat, have to eat. And some I eat just to give them pleasure even though it does nothing for me."
"Stop talking like that before I start wishing you didn't have your girl along. Let's change the subject. How's your Ferrari on a long trip?"
"Sweet. It loves the road. But you have to drive it all the way. It doesn't leave you room for mistakes."
"I'd like to have wheels like that. But seventeen thousand dollars I have a better use for."
The music ended and he took her back to the table. Only then was he aware that Ellie and Marks had been dancing too. He turned Lila over to Marks before she occupied his mind too much.
They all planned an early start in the morning, so they had one more drink and broke up. Marks lugged his suitcase to Lila's room.
While Ellie showered, Barrington took a brief walk. He followed a trail that took him up a low hill overlooking the motel. He sat on an outcropping of rock and smoked a cigarette in the early darkness. He saw the door of Lila's room open and watched as Marks went to the door of his and Ellie's room and listened for a moment outside it. Then the man went to the Ferrari. He walked around it and took a small flashlight from his pocket and shone the light inside. Barrington puffed his cigarette and thought fast.
Marks was more than he appeared to be. He was certainly doing more than examining an expensive car. Of this Barrington was certain. He watched Marks pocket the light and return to the girl's room. Barrington finished his smoke and went down the hill. In the room he did not say anything to Ellie about what he had seen. There was no need to alarm her.
But when she wasn't watching he took the small automatic Sanchez had given him from his pocket, checked the clip and jacked a live round into the chamber.
Ellie was just out of the shower. She was still wet and her hair was rolled in a mass on top of her head.
"Going to shower?" she asked.
"Yeah." Barrington began stripping off his clothes.
"Scrub your back?"
"It might be fun."
They crowded into the stall and turned the water on lukewarm. She took a cake of soap and began to run it over him. He grew tumescent at her touch. She laughed and lathered his penis and balls, rubbing him with both hands, teasing him.
"Careful," he said. "It shoots."
"If it's going to go bang" we might as well put it where it'll do some good."
She ground her pelvis against him and caught his penis between her legs, squeezing them tightly together and moving forward and back on him. He shoved at her. She was warm and slippery. She caught it in her hand and guided it to her vagina, raising on tiptoe to match his height.
"I don't know if we can do it like this," he said.
"Of course we can."
She raised a leg and he bent slightly, then pushed up. The lips of her pussy opened to him and he slipped inside. She put her arms around him and held him close and shoved her mound hard against him. The water beat down on them. It was a new sensation for him. She felt different inside this way. He could feel his prick battering her womb as he moved and her head was back. Animal noises came from her mouth as she pulled his lips down and slid her tongue between them.
Then the tingling began in his loins and he pumped her harder as the semen shot into her. In a moment he could feel it running out of her and down his leg. Her interior muscles were sucking at him. Finally they untangled from each other, let the water splash them clean and stepped from the shower. They dried each other off and finally went to the bed, where they fell asleep twined in each other's arms.
"Hey," she murmured just before they slept. "I wonder what my old man will do it I turn up pregnant."
"Probably grab the shotgun from the wall."
"Would you mind that."
"Not a bit." He kissed her lingeringly. "Now sleep."
CHAPTER ELEVEN ...
Lila and Marks started before they did in the morning. Barrington was momentarily puzzled by this until he realized they had no place to go except the one road and the least conspicuous way of trailing them was to be ahead of them. He was sure Marks had more than a ca-ual interest in them, but he could not picture the man as one of Sanchez' agents. More likely he was on Mondragon's team. As for Lila, he wasn't sure of her either. She was just too convenient to be coincidental.
Lila was driving her Ford. Marks trailed her a quarter mile back in a Mercedes coupe. The Ferrari overtook them about fifty miles north of Guaymas, in the rolling desert country of northern Mexico. Barrington blasted the horn at them as he passed, doing a steady eighty.
By noon they were in Hermosillo. It is a big city, spread over a lot of ground. Barrington had slowed somewhat and the other two cars were in sight in the rear-view mirror. They had closed the gap since reaching the outskirts of the city.
"You really want to meet Consuelo?" he asked.
"I do. Particularly after seeing that movie. I am turning into an absolutely amoral witch, lover."
Marie had written down a telephone number as well as an address for Consuelo. Barringtong thought there must be money in whoring if they could afford to set up a brand-new girl with a phone, considering the prohibitively high installation costs of phones in Mexico. They stopped and he called.
Consuelo was in. She gave him directions to the apartment, which turned out to be in a new building. The place was air-conditioned and Barrington reflected that Consuelo had already realized two of her wishes ... a nice place to live and cool air. She wore only a thigh-length negligee when she greeted them at the door.
"You're even more beautiful than the painting," was all Ellie could say when she saw the girl.
"Thank you," Consuelo said. "Come in. I will make us Tom Collinses. I have just learned how. It is a delightful drink. I like the gin much better than the tequila."
The loose negligee flared around her hips as she moved across the room. They could see right through it, to the dark nipples of her breasts and the thatch of pubic hair.
"Well, how's it go?" Barrington asked after they were settled with the drinks.
"I should be happy. They have done all they promised," Consuelo replied.
"But you're not," he said.
"No. I am not. I find I cannot take men just like so many pieces of meat, and be used by them. Already I want to get away."
"They won't let you go," Barrington said. "They have too much invested in you. You represent too much profit."
"I know. I hope to save money and get into the United States. I will not need much. I would not mind whoring there, because sooner or later there would be something else." Her eyes danced. "Perhaps I can even be a model, yes?"
"You have the beauty for it. And you pose naturally," he told he.
"Maybe you know somebody who could give me that kind of work," she said hopefully.
"Afraid not. I don't know many artists. I could give you the name of an agent or two, and that's about all."
"It would be a start. Excuse me while I make new drinks."
She went into the kitchen. Ellie leaned over to whisper in Barrington's ear.
"You may want to kill me when I say what I'm going to say."
"Say it and we'll find out," he replied. "Well, you know how I am with you. Cock-happy. But this is the most beautiful girl I've ever seen and I don't know what's come over me but I want to go to bed with her."
"You what]" Barrington sounded more surprised than he really was. He had watched Erie's eyes feasting on Consuelo. "Do you really?"
"Yes! Don't ask me to explain it. I used to fool around with other girls in boarding school, but I'm not queer. But I have to have this one. One time. Please."
"All right, I'll ask her." When Consuelo came back, he took her by the arms and turned her to him. "Consuelo, Ellie wants to go to bed with you."
"Aah!" Her face lit up. "Why not? Why don't the three of us go to bed together."
"No," Ellie said. "I don't want the distraction of Barrington when I'm making love to you."
She unbuttoned her dress and let it slide to the floor. She stepped out of it, wearing only bikini panties which she quickly pulled down. Consuelo let the negligee slide from her shoulders and led Ellie to the bedroom, motioning Barrington to follow.
It was a big room, and there were plenty of mirrors. The bed was ruffled, feminine. They went to it and Ellie put her arms around Consuelo and kissed her. Their tongues met and they sank to the bed. Barrington stripped his clothes off and sat on a chair, watching them. Ellie laid Consuelo back and bent over her, kissing her mouth, her breasts, her belly. She ran her fingers over Consuelo's mound, opening her vagina and caressing it. Consuelo moaned as Ellie knelt between her legs.
The tip of her tongue flicked across her lips hungrily as she opened Consuelo's cunt and kissed the pinkness. She began to lick and Consuelo murmured soft words which Barrington could not hear. She tightened her thighs around Ellie's head and raised her hips in passion. Ellie was making moaning noises in her throat and her head bobbed and twisted as she matched the movements of Consuelo's mound.
Finally Consuelo raised herself high, straining, crying out sharply as she came with a shuddering that shook her whole body. Ellie licked the juices from her and finally straightened up, her tongue running over her lips.
"Wow ... I wouldn't want it for a steady diet, but boy that was nice," she said. "Am I a pervert, Barrington?"
"You're just a healthy sexual animal responding to beauty."
"And you react too," Consuelo said. "Look at you!" She turned to Ellie. "Let me suck him, please. I may never see him again."
"Yes," Ellie said. "I'd like to see that."
Consuelo crossed the room and knelt in front of Barrington. She took his penis in her hand and pumped it. She tossed her head and the blue-black hair tumbled around her shoulders. She lowered her head and sucked him into her mouth, forcing her lips to the base of his staff, almost gagging as the head pushed deep into her throat. She began to move her head up and down, lips and tongue working, cheeks distended over the bulge of him. Barrington was hot from having watched the two women. In a few minutes he caught her head and held it fast as he jerked forward, shooting hard into the avid mouth.
Ellie watched it all. When Consuelo got to her feet she took the Mexican girl into her arms and kissed her lingeringly, sucking the saltiness of Barrington's sperm from her mouth.
"This is the way I would like it to be after sex, always," Consuelo whispered. "This time I do not feel used."
"It was fine," Ellie said. "But we have to be going."
"Take me with you!" she said impulsively. "Take me across the border!"
"Baby, that's impossible," Barrington said.
"You could do it!" Consuelo dropped to her knees and threw her arms around Ellie's waist, burying her face in the smooth flesh of the blonde girl's belly. "All I need is to get across and then a few miles inside the border. I can get some kind of job! You will never have to see me again."
Barrington thought of the load of heroin in the car, of the explosive situation they were in. He shook his head.
"Wait," Ellie said. "It doesn't have to be impossible. All she needs is a ride and a job. Once she has a job she can get a passport."
"So?" Barrington said. "Know of a whorehouse that's hiring?"
"Oh, shut up," Ellie fumed. "She can go to Dallas and work in Pa's office. He's got so many people now he won't notice one more."
"What can she do? Type? File? Take dictation?" Barrington said. "She can speak passable English and that's about it."
"She can be a receptionist or something. All she'd have to do is sit around and look pretty."
"Well, if you think so . . ."
"I know so. Consuelo, you can come. Get your toothbrush but leave whatever else you have here. Just put on a dress."
"I love you both!" Consuelo ran to a closet and in a moment had put on underthings and pulled a tight-fitting dress over her head. All she intended to carry was a large purse.
"I am ready."
In five minutes they were in the Ferrari, Consuelo with her long legs stretched out across the rear seat, roaring north toward the border. The Ford and Mercedes dropped in behind them. Barrington began to worry a little. If either Marks or Lila were working for Mondragon, they would want to do something about a fleeing whore.
It was late afternoon when they came to the border town of Nogales. Barrington stopped the car and turned to Consuelo. They were two blocks from the international boundary.
"You get out here," he said.
"But Senor Jeff . . ." Consuelo began.
"We can't take you across the border in the car because you'd have to show papers. But it's an open border. You can walk across. Three blocks beyond is a bar called the Green Lantern. We'll meet you there. And we'll stay this side of the border until you're across. Now go!"
She did. They watched her approach the wire fence and pass the immigration agents without incident. She was one of scores of people walking across the line, and other than to draw appreciative stares from the border guards she went without being noticed.
"Now it's our turn," he said, and put the car in gear.
There was no difficulty at Customs. They were passed through with only a cursory inspection of their luggage. Barrington watched two men in inconspicuous sports clothes get into a dusty sedan and drop in behind them as they moved up the main street on the American side. Consuelo was already at the bar. She hurried out to the car as it stopped in front and clambered into the rear seat.
They were in the outskirts of Tucson shortly after dark. Barrington drove to an expensive motel which had a bar and dining room. He got a double room for the three of them. They took the bags in and then went for a short walk a-round the motel grounds to stretch their cramped muscles.
"I'll lug the paintings into the room and then we'll think about getting a drink and something to eat," he said.
"Why not leave them in the car?" Ellie asked.
"What? And take a chance on a clouter buggering up three months' work? No thanks."
They were not surprised to find Lila James and Cliff Marks also checked into the motel, sharing a room.
They did not see either of them at dinner, however. Later in the room the three of them undressed. Barrington wondered when Mondra-gon's men would attempt to retrieve their heroin, and just how they would go about it. He had locked the trunk of the car and the keys were on the dresser. He hoped the American agents were on the ball, would catch whatever members of the gang showed up quickly and without fuss.
He took the small automatic from his pocket and slipped it into the drawer of the bedside table. Consuelo saw it but said nothing.
The three of them came together in the middle of the king-sized bed, Barrington in the middle. He was not in the mood for sex. He was too keyed up.
"Relax and enjoy it," Ellie whispered as her hands sought him out. "How often do you get to have two women at once?"
"Yes. I have only this one night. Give me something to remember," Consuelo murmured. She found his hand and put it on one of her breasts. The globe was hot and firm, the nipple quickly rigid under Barrington's touch. As he massaged it Consuelo leaned across him and kissed Ellie on the mouth. Her lips and tongue worked on the blonde girl and then she began to lick her way downward. She tongued Ellie's breasts and bit at them with her little teeth. Ellie sighed and held her head with one hand. Her other hand was tight around Barrington's penis.
Consuelo slipped away and buried her face between Ellie's thighs, licking at her, opening the lips and swirling her tongue around the clitoris and then plunging it deep into her vagina. Ellie gasped and began to pump Barrington. Barrington stroked the satin flesh of Consuelo, running his hands over the smooth curve of her buttocks. Consuelo lifted her head from what she was doing for a minute.
"You can get it in me," she whispered. She rotated her rump.
Barrington moved around behind her, getting between her legs. Her buttocks were thrust up at him. Ellie still had hold of his cock, was slowly guiding it to Consuelo.
"Which hole do you want?" she asked, chuckling.
"Put it in the tight one," Consuelo whispered.
Barrington felt himself being manipulated into position. Ellie pumped him and drops of lubricating moisture came from the eye of his penis. He seized Consuelo's hips and held her steady, then began a slow, determined thrusting. He felt her anus opening to him. It was tight, hot, slick. He gathered himself and shoved deep. The Mexican girl moaned in passion and drove her tongue faster at Ellie's pussy. Barrington reached forward under her and cupped her breasts. He could feel the rigid nipples hot against his palms. He began to pump Consuelo hard. She gasped and rotated her rump, shoving back and up at him. Ellie lay back now, her eyes closed, a sensuous smile on her lips. Her hips rose to meet Consuelo's mouth in mounting frenzy. The three of them were gasping in their passion. Then Barrington felt the tightness begin in his balls, the swelling of his penis inside Consuelo. He gritted his teeth and shoved into her faster, harder. She cried out as he came and slumped forward across Ellie, kissing and licking at the other girl's belly. Finally, drained, Barrington pulled out of her.
The three of them curled together in a tangle of arms and legs and drifted off to sleep.
Barrington did not know what stealthy sound awakened him, or what time it was. All he knew was that he came awake suddenly, a-ware that there was a furtive figure in the room. The door was open, letting in some illumination from the floodlights which lit the motel grounds. But the lights were in the distance, so that only indistinct shadows showed around the sleeping units.
"What the hell," he muttered.
He swung his legs out of bed, blinking. He was naked. He could see the shape of a man bent over the dresser where his wallet and the stuff from his pockets had been dumped.
The man bolted and ran out the door, slamming it behind him. Barrington gave chase, grabbing the .25 automatic from the night table, forgetting he hadn't any clothes on. He bulled through the door and ran along the walkway that served the second-floor units. The Ferrari was parked directly below the room, and he could make out two men standing by the rear of it. The man he was after fled down the stairway. Barrington's big bare feet slapped on the concrete as he gave chase.
He was smaller than Barrington, of no more than average height, and he was nimble. Barrington increased his stride and at that instant somebody fired a gun.
He heard a bullet whistle past his head and go on to slam into a plate-glass window in the cocktail lounge. Barrington broke his stride and whirled. One of the men by the car was pointing a gun at him and Barrington saw it flash, then ducked as another bullet hurtled close by him. Instinctively he aimed the automatic and fired it twice. He could hear the slugs hit metal. The two men ducked behind the Ferrari. Somewhere, a man yelled and there were more shots. He could hear the running feet of his quarry escaping. He took up the chase again. The man had doubled back, was heading for the swimming pool area again. Barrington lengthened his stride, came to within a pace of the fleeing man and dove at him.
He caught an ankle and held on as they reached the edge of the pool. The man kicked at him and Barrington felt a foot slam into his belly, partially knocking the wind from him. Then both tumbled into the pool. Barrington slugged at the man with his gun as they sank beneath the surface of the water. The man yelled in pain and then the yell was cut off by the water as it closed over his head. They struggled under the water, the man hampered by his clothes. They came to the surface and Barrington gasped a deep breath and then slugged his man again. He felt him go limp. He let the gun slide from his grasp as he touched the bottom of the pool with his feet and then kicked, shooting them both upward. They broke into the air.
The man was unconscious. They were in near-darkness. Barrington swam to the edge of the pool and clambered out, pulling the man with him. He rolled him on his back in the dim light and looked at him.
Mondragon. Barrington wasn't surprised. He tossed the man over his shoulder and lugged him toward the car, where a small crowd had materialized.
Two men were in handcuffs. The others had guns. They were pointing at him.
"Put those damn things away," Barrington growled. "What the hell goes on here?"
"We are collecting narcotics smugglers," a woman's voice said. It was Lila James. She pushed her way to the center of the circle. She, too, had a gun. Barrington dumped Mondragon at her feet. Behind her he saw Cliff Marks. Marks seemed to be the only one without a gun. "They tried to break into your car, as I know you expected. When they couldn't our friend went to your room to try stealing the keys."
"I see. And just who the hell are you?" he asked.
"Hey - Barrington! You forgot your pants!"
Ellie was calling from the balcony. She threw his slacks down to him. He put them on, too busy to be embarrassed.
"I work for Subjefe Sanchez," Lila said. "He told you that you would be followed by his agents."
"I thought it might be that," Barrington said. His eyes went to Cliff Marks. "Him too."
"I'm working for your girl's father," Marks said.
"Yeah. I should have expected somebody would be," Barrington growled. "And maybe three guys who jumped me one night down by the docks were too."
"He felt bad about that," Marks said. "It was an error of judgment."
"I'll settle that when I see him," Barring-on replied. "Who are these other guys?"
"U.S. narcotics agents," one of them said. "We got them with the keys to your car, so I guess we'd better get the junk out of it now. You mind?"
"Mind . . . hell if that stuff sits there another two minutes I'm personally going to dump it in the swimming pool," Barrington told him. "And now if you don't mind I'm going up to bed."
"One more thing," the agent said. "That Mexican girl with you. She's illegal."
"She'll get legal."
"Best she does. Technically we should do something about her but we've got our own headaches and I'm willing to let Immigration take care of its own."
"I'll tell her." He turned away and began to climb the stairs. Ellie met him there. "It's okay," he said.
In the room Consuelo cowered on the bed, a sheet pulled up to cover her nudity. She was raised up, staring through the open window at the shadowy figures below.
"You can relax," Barrington said. "They don't want you."
"This is the truth?" she asked.
"It's the truth," Ellie assured her.
"But Senor Mondragon came here for me."
"No. Not for you. For something he wanted a lot more than he wants a little girl from a village in Mexico."
"Okay." Ellie lit a cigarette. "Now can we talk about going back to Mazatlan?"
"You're sure you want to? The excitement's all over."
She came and stood close to him. She kissed him, running her tongue deep between his lips. Her hands roved over him.
"Luv, the excitement's just beginning."
EPILOGUE:
I guess the excitement did begin there. Consuelo went on to Texas, to Josh Tiernan's office, where she is probably as happy as anybody can be in Texas. Barrington came back to Mazatlan with his blonde. They live in his apartment now, on what he makes from his painting, because he wants it that way and she is too smart to argue. She is also a little bit knocked up. They party sometimes with Sanchez, who has moved his a-gent Lila in with him. Marie Hart got herself closed down and is doing some time in a Mex jail. The American cops kept Mondragon. Carmel is peddling her ass in one of the houses at fifty pesos, or four bucks, a throw, and Luis is pimping for her. It is all she knows how to do.
Barrington seems happy, but I dunno. The blonde has him hooked for sure. Her old man came down in his fancy airplane for a visit and she even talked Barrington into buying a necktie so he could look halfway presentable when they went to meet the old boy.
The thought of it makes me reach for the tequila jug.
Barrington, with his broads and his truck and his board, who never wanted anything more than what he had.
