"Coming Through the Rye" by the American author, Gene Bowman was notable for its crude, but action-packed sex and its dramatic action. Highly popular in London, where it was originally published, it was soon banned from the London bookstores because of its graphic portrayals of the sex act. It has survived as a collector's item of modern erotica in libraries on the continent.
Current stories in today's papers would indicate that the types of perversion and brutality described in this story actually occur more frequently than imagined. In addition the following excerpts from a case history by the famous psychoanalyst, Dr. O. Berndorff will prove interesting: "Helen S., an attractive girl in her twenties, related the following incident, which was a factor in her neurosis. 'I was riding in a practically empty subway car, when a quite good-looking, well-dressed man got in. Suddenly, between stations he got up, showed his genitals and began masturbating right in front of me. I was frightened, but also hypnotized by the sight of his huge rigid penis as it ejaculated and some of the white sperm stained my dress. I actually became nauseated with disgust and ran out crying at the next station.' " 'Afterwards, I thought to myself that I should have grabbed his penis and slashed it with a razor blade, or cut it off entirely ... I remember that I was revolted by the animal-like look of his huge penis, and yet I was fascinated by it and secretly wondered how it would feel in my mouth, how the hot, white sperm would taste when he ejaculated ...' " The reader should find the descriptions of the various sadistic types of perversion informative and enlightening psychological knowledge. It is from this point of view that Continental Classics presents this novel in its complete and unexpurgated form. It is recommended only for the graduate student or mature adult reader.
A. L. Saunders, M.A. New York City June, 1969
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Chapter One
C.C. "Bull" Zelman's drive got him the things in life he wanted. Like the naked blonde beauty, whose pink-nippled breasts and lush, weaving cuntlips were practically begging him to fuck them now-quickly. The lovely sensuous lips of Valerie Desmond implored plaintively, "What's keeping you, C.C? Here I am with my pussy waiting impatiently for you to shove your cock in and you haven't even started to undress."
C.C. "Bull" Zelman's dark eyes flashed in his hawk-like face and he began to remove his clothes slowly from his powerful, thick-set body. This was the way he liked it, the broad practically begging him to shove his prick in her when they got to the motel. He gloated, he'd tease her cunt along a little longer ... the way the good-lookers and swingers used to tease and deny him.
But that was before he got to be Discount King of Long Island.. He was celebrating the opening of his seventh discount appliance store in towns scattered through Long Island's prosperous South Shore. Yes, he'd come a long way from that little hole-in-the-wall he'd started with in Oceanport. Now they called him the "Discount Tycoon", and his latest place outside Lynbrook was a regular department store selling everything from color T.V.'s and refrigerators to the newest fashions for men and women.
Yeah, he gloated, as he looked down at the naked Valerie Desmond, he was a big man and getting bigger all the time. He called the tune and these cunts danced to it now. Bull Zelman weaved a little from the river of bourbon he'd been drinking all evening as he took off his elevator shoes. Although very powerfully built, he was shorter than average and used the lift shoes to give him a couple of extra inches. He was a very vain man, and although he loved to taunt and tease others, he couldn't stand being kidded or criticized about any of his own shortcomings. Everyone knew better than to provoke one of Bull Zelman's rages with personal remarks about him. His terrific vanity was a good part of his ambition to become the biggest discount department store owner in the East-and he was well on his way. A man had to have some relaxation, he told himself, and a deluxe showgirl like Valerie Desmond could sure relax a man-cock, balls and all!
Bull slowly got into the motel bed beside Valerie's streamlined naked body. He brushed aside her welcoming arms and started to mouth her lush, ruby-tipped full breasts. He could feel her jutting nipples stiffen and become rigid with desire as his tongue flicked over them. Valerie began to turn her lovely face, framed with long hair the color of burnished gold, from side to side on the pillow. As Zelman continued to kiss and play with her tits, her full thighs began to undulate against him. Soon her whole luscious torso was shuddering with excitement and she began a sexy grind with her belly and hips against Zelman's powerful frame. Zelman's lips found her navel and hungrily mouthed and tongued the hidden, sensitive crevice.
Valerie parted her full thighs slightly and quickly engulfed Zelman's huge, thick cock within her warm moist cunt. His strong hands cupped her satiny asscheeks as Bull lunged into her twat with grunting, rapid thrusts. She frenziedly quickened her pace, moaning aloud as the plunging Bull fucked her writhing cunt. Suddenly a scream broke from Valerie's lips, "Oh, Bull, you're all man! I've never been fucked like this before!" she cried as her thighs went into a wild uncontrolled go-go-go dance.
As Bull felt her cunt go into ecstatic spasms beneath him, sharp pleasure bolts exploded in his balls as hot scum spurted through his cock into her cunt. The blonde clung to him, uttering little cries as the muscles of her vagina and belly kept twitching uncontrollably.
"You're a real man, Bull," she gasped. "You know the kind of hump a woman needs."
Bull Zelman was content for the moment. Valerie had said the right thing at the right time. He'd give her a ten spot in addition to her usual hundred dollars "allowance".
Things had been swell until they were driving in to Valerie's New York apartment. She had asked him for another fifty as they were driving on the deserted beach road from the motel to the main highway. When he stubbornly refused, Valerie committed the unpardonable sin.
"Why Cecil," she said mockingly, "why is Cecil baby being so stingy with me?"
Valerie was one of the few people who knew that "C.C." stood for Cecil Cartwright and that the one way to make him crazy mad was to call him "Cecil".
"Dammit, I told you never to call me that sissy name even when we're alone," Bull growled.
"Stingy Cecil, stingy Cecil," she kept taunting.
Bull Zelman, consumed with blinding rage, braked the car and put his brawny arms to Valerie to shut her up. Valerie tore loose from him and he followed her as she ran drunkenly yelling, "Stingy Cecil, stingy Cecil" to the sand dunes. He was still rather drunk too, which may explain the fact that he took his hands from the too silent Valerie's throat and realized that he had probably crushed her windpipe in his wild fury. Valerie would never tease him again-she was quite dead.
He was scrambling from the depression in the sand dunes where Valerie was lying when he caught sight of a gleaming pair of girl's legs on the tar roadway.
The naked legs of a girl. That was all he saw. He was aware of the fact that the girl wasn't completely naked, however. She had on some kind of abbreviated costume-shorts, he guessed. They were white, as he recalled. But he didn't really see anything of the girl except her naked legs.
In other circumstances Bull would have admired those legs. On this occasion, however, they inspired only an over-powering rush of fear. The legs were facing him, which meant that the girl was facing him and had seen what he had done.
Immediately the legs turned and disappeared from sight. Bull started to scramble up the slope to the road, plowing the loose dirt with his feet. He sweated and puffed against the rising dust, his short legs pistoning. All he could think about was the need to grab the girl, whoever she was, because she could send him to cold storage for good.
But by the time he had reached the top of the slope and stood on the roadside, all he saw was, a disappearing pair of auto tail lights. The girl had gotten away.
He leaped toward his own car, which was angled crazily off the edge of the pavement where he'd stopped it in his rage of several minutes before. Its headlights were stabbing into the dark and its right-front door stood open.
Valerie had lunged through that door with him after her. Then she had run and rolled down the slope into the ditch beside the road, ending on her back with her skirt wound around her hips and her stockinged legs in the air. Bull had leaped at her and had strangled the life out of her voluptuous body.
He hadn't meant to kill her, of course. That is, he hadn't meant to when they'd been fighting in the car. Or even when she'd leaped out and he had gone after her. But when he'd seen her lying there in the dirt-soiled and helpless, her face smudged, her hair tangled, her skirt only a bandanna on her hips, gleaming white above her hose. He had suddenly wanted to. And he had done it.
The fact of killing Valerie hadn't bothered him afterward. She had been a tramp and a whore. She'd been trying to taunt him and make fun of him when he was being good to her.
What concerned him was that his act had been witnessed. It had been witnessed by the girl with the naked legs who had evidently stopped her car when she'd come upon his lighted Continental with its right-front door yawning. Then when she'd seen what he had done, she had run back to her own car and had gotten out of there before he could stop, or even identify her.
There was one peculiar thing Bull had noticed about her, however. She had a mark-a birthmark, he guessed-on the outside of her right leg almost up to her hip. He'd noticed it because of the way she'd been standing. In the moonlight it had formed a vivid contrast to the golden tan of the rest of her flesh. The mark, as he recalled, was in the rough shape of a strawberry and it angled across her leg. He estimated that it was about three inches long.
So all he knew about the girl who had seen him kill his mistress was the fact that she'd been wearing shorts or something of the sort, that she had bare tanned legs, and that she had a strawberry birthmark. He assumed she lived in or around Lynbrook, since the road where he had stopped was strictly a local one.
Bull had turned onto it so that he and Valerie could park where it was quiet and thrash out their argument. But Valerie hadn't given him a chance. She'd become nasty. When he tried to quiet her and started to pull the car to a stop, she had jumped out.
He hadn't followed the girl's car away from the scene.
He had leaped into his own car, intending to do so, but then he'd decided that it would only make things worse if he did. He had figured the girl might pull into a service station or private home for help, and that someone might then take after him. It had seemed best to take advantage of his opportunity to get away.
He wasn't sure how much the girl knew. In her excitement, had she paid any attention to his car? Had she gotten his license number or looked at the registration slip on the steering post? Had she even gotten a very good look at his face? The moon had been out, but he had been standing well below her.
She would have noticed he was a heavy-set man, he presumed. Nobody could have missed that.
Bull Zelman wasn't huge-bellied, but he was short. Being short, his stockiness was more apparent than it would have been on a tall man.
The girl would also have noticed his thinning hair had been mussed from his exertion and from the windy drive from the Sunrise Motel. Moreover, he had been wearing a red-and-gold flowered sport-shirt and that would surely have made an impression on her.
She had undoubtedly seen enough to make a lot of trouble for him, he concluded as he drove the rest of the way to Manhattan alone. He had continued to think about it during the sleepless night he'd spent beside his snoring wife and then later in the privacy of his luxurious fawn-leathered office.
The Daily News had carried a story about the discovery of the woman's body at Lynbrook. It had said the authorities were trying to identify her and were investigating the circumstances of her death.
Did the fact that her body had been discovered so quickly mean that the girl with the birthmark had already talked? If so, she hadn't given the police Bull's license number or he would have been picked up by that time. Probably she hadn't noticed the car very carefully, he thought. Either that or she'd been afraid to talk.
But the girl would certainly be able to identify him if he were ever picked up, and therefore she would always represent a threat. That meant he had to locate her somehow. And then he had to kill her. Strangely, the thought of committing another murder didn't bother him.
Valerie Desmond was the only person he had ever killed of course. He had never even considered committing murder before that night. But he had found it surprisingly easy, and he'd suffered no after-pangs about it. He had wondered about that, but he'd told himself it was because he'd been concerned about the girl who had witnessed the act and who now virtually held his fate in her hands. How could a man worry about what he had done to someone else, when his own life was in jeopardy?
Then, also, Valerie had really asked for what happened.
As far as the girl witness was concerned, his choice was either to kill her or risk the loss of his own life. That made it a simple matter of self-preservation.
Bull Zelman had been an action man all his life. He had always been the sort who, when he saw what had to be done, went out and did it. He had never permitted himself to be bullied or scared off. That's how he had succeeded in building a discount business that now covered a good part of Long Island South Shore. And he had accomplished it in just eight years. It had been a tough job but Bull had been tougher.
The man's appearance of softness was deceiving for he was actually ambitious, hard-working and shrewd. At the same time, however, he was self-indulgent, especially when it came to women, and inclined to be more emotional than was good for him.
That's why he had flown off the handle and killed Valerie.
But what was done was done. The problem was getting out of it.
Find the girl, he told himself.
Even if she'd already talked, the prosecution would need her testimony in court to prove a charge against him. If she were suddenly to disappear, their case would collapse. So Bull had to find her and make her disappear. It was that simple.
But he couldn't go to Lynbrook himself. It was a small town-only a couple of thousand people. What if she saw him on the street and pointed him out to a local cop? Then he'd be in for it for sure. As it was, no one knew where to look for him. Even if they succeeded in identifying Valerie by tracing her clothes, dental work, or something, there was no reason to think they would find out about him.
He'd never dated Valerie in New York. He'd never even picked her up at her apartment. He was a married man and the last thing in the world he'd wanted was for his wife to take him down the line in the divorce court for everything he had. It would have meant he'd have to draw money from his expanding discount chain in order to settle with her, and the business was his whole life, except for his playing around with cunt.
So he had been careful.
He had always met Valerie in public places, where neither one' of them was known, and they had gone on overnight or weekend jaunts to places like Atlantic City, and Asbury Park. They'd registered as husband-and-wife under phony names and, as far as Bull knew, no acquaintance of his from New York had ever seen them together.
Also he was pretty sure his wife, Agnes, didn't know what had been going on.
She was used to his being away from home a lot. He'd kept unusual hours ever since they were married fifteen years ago. At that time he'd been managing a couple of discount stores for someone else. When he bought his first store, his hours became even more erratic. He'd been away from home more than he was home. Now that he ran his own chain and it was big business, with buyers to meet and employees to check on, goods to order. Agnes was resigned to seeing less of him than ever.
Bull felt sure that the only link between himself and Valerie Desmond's death was the girl whose bare legs he had fleetingly seen at the edge of the Lynbrook roadway.
How could he go about finding her? That was the crux of his problem and he was giving it his most careful consideration.
Hire a private detective agency. That had been the first solution which had come to mind. But he had quickly decided against it. It would be too risky to get an outside agency involved in the thing. He could spin them some kind of phony yarn about why he wanted to find the girl. That part would be all right. But then, later, when the girl disappeared and there were write-ups in the papers about it, as there were bound to be, the detective agency would get wise and they'd probably cop out. Why shouldn't they? They would have already earned their fee. Moreover, they would have their license to protect. Telling what they knew would serve to solidify their relations with the police, and Bull figured that was something they would want to do. The agency wouldn't come in for any blame for having found the girl. To them it would have been just an ordinary missing-person problem. In taking the case, how could they have been expected to know it amounted to anything more than that?
No, hiring a detective was out.
And going to Lynbrook himself was out.
So what was the next choice?
Getting some John Doe to do the job for him. Somebody Bull could count on to keep his mouth shut after the job was over. Somebody who could be involved in such a way that he wouldn't dare talk about it.
But who?
Bull raised the La Corona cigar to his mouth and drew on it. It was out. He closed a thick hand around the 8-ball lighter on his desk and flicked its concealed button. He rotated the flame around the burnt end of his cigar and puffed.
He replaced the lighter and leaned back in his chair. Who? What man did he know who could pull off this sort of job?
There were men working for him who might be conned into it. There was one in particular - Vince Nordland - who had a prison record and for that reason would probably be afraid to go the cops afterward. Then, too, Bull had a few things on Vince. But Vince wasn't very smart. Bull doubted if he was smooth enough.
Bull had to choose a man who could go to Lynbrook and spend a little time there-get acquainted and mix with the locals until he found the girl.
It might prove to be easy. If the girl had already blabbed to the local cops, her identity would be common knowledge around town. On the other hand, if she hadn't talked, she'd have to be identified by her birthmark and that might take a bit of doing.
Of course it wasn't as if the man Bull sent to Lynbrook would have to go around lifting girls' dresses. The babe he wanted probably wore shorts a lot of the time. Her legs had been tanned. Still, a knothead like Vince could make a wrong remark that might cause suspicion. If he were to get himself picked up, it would lead the cops right to Bull's door.
Unh-uh. Vince Nordland was out.
So, who else did Bull know?
Reluctantly he was forced to the conclusion that if he used anyone who was connected with him, the guy might lead the cops back to him afterward, even without wanting to.
Hell! he said to himself and mashed the smoldering end of his cigar in a huge onyx ash tray.
He would have to find some outsider for the job. That was the only answer. It would have to be someone who was smart enough, smooth enough, and who needed a fast chunk of dough. Then Bull would have to work things in such a way that the guy wouldn't dare spill his guts about it.
Bull grimaced, twisting his thick lips. Where to find such a man? His problem had resolved itself to that.
He continued to work on it, after a while taking another long cigar from the humidor on his desk. He bit off its tip and spat it at the wastebasket near his swivel chair, then put the cigar between his teeth.
Where to find the man, he asked himself over and over.
Bull Zelman may have been vain and short-tempered, but he could also be shrewd and cunning. When it came to taking care of C.C. Zelman or saving his own skin, he was a positive genius. A rough idea of the strategy he'd use to get himself out of the rough spot he was in because of the late Valerie Desmond began to shape itself in his mind. With a little luck he'd come up smelling like roses.
He had a pretty fair idea of the type of man he needed for the job. There must be a handsome, rugged young prick-pusher in the area who could make out like crazy with broads. Zelman's hawk-like features creased in a sardonic grin. Yes, he had a most interesting assignment for a man who liked to get those twats into bed and was good at it. The guy would have to have plenty of cock-stamina-he would probably have to screw quite a few casts before he got the right one on her ass. A strawberry birthmark would be very visible on a pair of naked legs, writhing in a passionate fuck.
Chapter Two
Russ Bates was using the supple strength of his six-foot-one build in his favorite hobby. The nude body of the girl the good-looking, curly-haired Russ was about to screw in bed responded passionately to his caresses. Not bad going he thought, for a bar pickup of less than thirty minutes ago. Her name was Linda and he hadn't even gotten a good look at her in the half-light of the bar-but he was sure feeling up her voluptuous tits and ass now.
His hump-desire became roused to fever pitch as he felt a pair of sensuous lips and flicking tongue roaming warmly across his chest. He really began to vibrate as her tongue worked down and warmly invaded his navel. He kneaded her full luscious breasts as they dangled over his torso while she was kissing him. Their large, jutting nipples were springily erect in his fingers. Before he could stop her, Linda's head ducked down and he felt his throbbing, tremendous cock thrilling to a satiny smooth engulfing moistness. She was giving him a blow-job. As her tongue worked lustfully on the head and thick shaft of his prick he no longer wanted to stop her. He wanted her to go on and on-but sudden, surging ecstasy made him shoot his load of hot creamy scum right down her throat in the throes of seething joy. Later he gasped, "Linda baby, you took my cock by surprise-but I loved every minute of it!"
Flattered, Linda showed him she could be just as good conventional style too. Both the blow job and the regular hump had been great.
The next morning he was not the least bit displeased at what he saw as he stood beside the bed and looked down at her. She was in her middle twenties, as he'd figured, and the hair on her head was a true reddish-brown. Her flesh which was the color of rich vanilla ice cream, formed itself into two tempting tits on her chest, with maraschino cherries decorating them. Her cherry-like nipples looked mighty good to him.
Russ let his gaze sweep like a paintbrush down her svelte body, across her slim waist where her belly-button dimpled the gentle rise of her stomach . ..
The longer Russ stood there and the longer he looked at the girl, the more he wanted to fuck her again. He decided it was time to wake her up and let her do something about his fresh hardon, if she had a mind to.
So he bent over the supine form and gently but firmly touched her cuntlips with his cock.
"Unnhh ..." she said and wriggled some more, her kips twisting as she sought to roll over. But of course she couldn't do that because Russ was firmly positioned against her. All she succeeded in accomplishing was to press closer against him.
Russ liked that also, and he liked the progress his hardon had made into her cunt-hole as a result of her hip-wriggling act. In fact, he had darned near shoved his dick in so far that he could complete this hump with a single move.
He didn't want to act just that way, however. He wanted to wake her up gradually and let the realization of his big prick in her twat slowly form in her consciousness until the truth of it finally arrived and she found herself caught in the excitement of sort of being raped in her sleep.
So he pressed gentry, gaining on his objective. Contenting himself with that for the moment, he bent his head to her tits and touched a cherry-like nipple with his tongue.
Whether it had been the additional shoving-in of his dong or the nipple-touch that had done it he didn't know, but Linda began to wake up. She blinked her eyes just as he lifted his lips from her crisp nipple and was about to similarly titillate its still soft twin.
He stopped, however, midway in his tit-sucking and grinned at her.
Linda stared up at him and said, with apparent surprise, "It's morning!"
"Hell, yes, it's morning," Russ agreed cheerfully his eyes twinkling. "My cock has mounted his perch and begun to crow."
Linda's gaze widened as she pushed at his thick hairy chest and realized that his dick was in her cunt. "Move away!"
"Oh, no," he said, still grinning at her, and bent to the nipple toward which he had been headed.
"What do you think you're doing?" Linda squealed as she tossed her shoulders.
He had her cunt well enough pinned by that time so that the shrug accomplished nothing but shoving his dong into her pussy up to his balls. As for her shoulder-tossing, that merely succeeded in shaking and hobbling her knockers against his lips, which Russ didn't mind at all.
Just before capturing a cherry-red nipple, Russ answered the question she asked him. Being a man given to vulgarity when the occasion seemed to warrant it, he phrased the answer in a most positive and graphic way.
"I think I'm going to fuck you again, babe!" he said. And then he pulled her nipple to his lips.
"Oh!" Linda cried out, her tone seeming to suggest shocked anger.
This didn't discourage Russ. He had immense confidence in his powers of persuasion. But it did cause him to conclude that he had played long enough, however, and that it was time to start frigging with vigor.
Accordingly, he started shoving his cock up her cunt furiously and gloried at the cry which broke from her parted lips.
"How's that now?" he demanded, running his hands down beneath her until they each grasped a springy asscheek. He was ready to go.
"Move away!" she cried.
"You don't really want me to do that... yet," he murmured as he nipped at her ear.
"I do so! Get away. It's morning and it's light and ... well, we shouldn't be fucking now!"
"Like hell," he said softly.
As she began to fight him, he moved back a little and then screwed her cunt even faster. "Ooh..." Linda moaned.
"Help out with a little pussy-action, why don't you?"
He knew good and well that she could have made things rough for him if she'd wanted to. She could have scratched at his face and kneed him in the side and God knows what else she could have done. But he was sure she wouldn't. After all, her reluctance only stemmed from a kooky notion of modesty, he believed, remembering how she'd insisted on keeping the light off the night before. He figured she was old enough to get over such silly ideas about screwing and that he should help her do so.
So he continued to be as helpful as possible, fucking her excited twat with steady vigor, and it wasn't long before she had abandoned all pretense of objection and was accepting his thrusting cock in an enthusiastic way.
He was fucking with the relentless efficiency of an experienced whoremaster. Her arms were around his back and her claw-like nails were digging into him.
"Oh, what your cock does to me!" she exclaimed, "I never knew a guy who could fuck like you! Oh, Russ!"
She began to urge him to screw faster. She slipped her hands down his back and she began to press his ass to her frantically. She was gasping, her head rolling from side to side.
"Let 'er rip, baby!" Russ gasped, continuing his steady screwing. "I can ... make you "come" twice. Just ... let yourself go!"
He released her and froze, trying to remain as stationary as possible while she frigged her burning cunt up and down his rigid cock. Then at just the right moment, Russ unleashed a burst of brutal, fast fucking in her vagina that made her howl-literally-and then halt, seeming to hang suspended for a while before she collapsed, moaning and clutching him to her.
He remained quiet, enjoying her shuddering "come". When her arms had slackened about him, her head had lolled to the side, and her vagina had stopped flooding with hot cunt-juice once more. "Oh, nohh ..." she whimpered.
t(Yes," he contradicted simply and kept on fucking.
Slowly. Surely. Powerful. Russ had a wonderful sense of rhythm. He should have been a drummer.
He seemed to have all the time in the world that morning. He could sense the big moment creeping up for him, but that was still a long ways off. Advancing slowly, just step by step.
Linda wasn't helping. She wasn't moving and she wasn't pulling against him. She was limp as a bag of laundry, but her cunt was burning... The finish wouldn't be long off, though, he knew. He kept fucking.
Finally she began to respond. She looked at him and he saw that her eyes were growing tense. Good.
He took his hands away from her asscheeks and brought them out and up to squeeze the soft mounded globes of her tits. As he continued to work, he bent his head and kissed first one of her nipples and then the other.
Linda began to talk, "Oh, God! Again. Oh, again! Oh. Oh, Russ! Mmm ... honey ..."
Gradually - expertly - Russ began to pull the stops. His cock tempo increased and diminished. Faster, shorter, and harder. More. And more yet.
Linda cried out.
From the next door, through the wall, a man hollered, "Hold that down in there, will you?" Russ yelled back, "Go to hell!" Linda sighed. Russ fucked ...
They crashed and rocked in a torrent of wild, savage Then, with the suddenness and intensity of the flash preceding an explosion's roar, Russ began shooting huge globs of hot creamy scum into her twitching vagina as he "came." She screamed as orgasm tremors shuddered through her cunt and she felt his inundation of scalding no. After that, it was as if the roar was echoing through their ears for many moments before all became quiet and They rolled away, his cock now limp but slippery . with her cunt-juice and still dribbling sperm ...
"Gosh!" Linda said when she had partially caught her breath. "You're no man. You're a fuck-machine!"
Russ laughed heartily. He felt good. Damned good. His heart was throbbing, pumping the blood through him at am accelerated pace. He felt the tingle of it from the top of his head to the tip of each toe. Man, he was alive!
When he had savored the feeling at some length and had finally decided there was nothing more to be had from it, he sat up and threw his legs over the side of the bed. He stood.
"Mind if I hit the shower first?" he asked the girl who was still twitching from her "come", her eyes closed and her red-brown hair fanned against the pillow. "No," she breathed. "Go ahead." Russ smiled to himself as he walked to the bathroom. She'll probably go back to sleep, he thought. Well, they had been up late the previous night. And this morning he had really given her cunt a work-out. The success this most recent hump-performance gave him a special sense of pride.
There was no better prick-pusher anywhere, he said to himself as he adjusted the shower and stepped under the needle-like spray. He began to soap his hard bronzed body-thick chest, wide full shoulders, arms like corded steel. Then he ran his hands up and down the firm flat length of his middle.
Yeah, he thought again, no better cock in the whole blasted world! He laughed against the beating spray of the water.
Russ Bates was twenty-seven years old. He had been fucking since he was thirteen. About all he had to show for his life was the memory of a string of cunts as long as his arm, each one of which had given him its own special thrill. Vocationally speaking, he had gotten nowhere. In fact, he didn't even have a vocation. He had made his bread by a succession of different jobs which ranged from cattle-ranching to ditch-digging to tree-topping and including just about everything in between. Except that he'd never worked in an office or a store. Jobs like that were no good for a real man, he'd always thought.
It wasn't that Russ had no education. He had graduated from high school among the top quarter of his class. In the ten years since then, he had been no stranger to books. Whenever he had no hump-date of an evening, he preferred to read something interesting rather than to fritter away his time at a movie or in front of a T.V. set.
Another thing-he wasn't much of a drinker. He took a drink or two for sociability, but got no boot from dulling his mind with the stuff. Life was for living, he'd always thought. He liked life just the way it was and had no desire to escape.
Money had never represented much of a goal to him either. All he'd ever wanted was enough to keep him presentably clothed, to pay the upkeep on a set of wheels, to provide him with good food and a clean place to out.
He enjoyed working outdoors-being part of life in large sense, feeling the stream of it as it surged around through him. Of course, that attitude extended to and his sex-life. Usually Russ shunned cities. But once in a while curiosity brought him to the big towns. In his travels around the country he had become acquainted with Boston, Atlanta, Pittsburgh and Chicago. He knew L.A. and Phoenix, too. He'd never been to New York before this, He wanted to visit other place too. London, Milan, Athens. But he guessed he'd never make those stops. He'd never get to fuck foreign tail because that would take the kind of loot he never expected to have.
The thought of marrying and settling down had always given him a quiet laugh. That wasn't any life for a he had told himself. Oh, it might be all right when he got older, he'd conceded. Thirty-five or forty, maybe. That would be time enough to think of tying his prick down to one cunt. In the meantime, he had a few good roaming years ahead of him, he believed, and he was determined to make the most of them.
He happened to find himself in the New York area on this occasion because the construction job on which he'd been working had petered out. He'd taken most of the money he'd earned there and had sunk it into a late model Ford to replace the old heap he'd been driving. The rest of the dough he'd just about used up during the two weeks he'd spent in town. Now it was time to be moving along.
He hadn't decided yet just where he wanted to go. Maine, maybe, and try his hand at lumber jacking again. He liked it in the far northern part of the country. That was man's country.
The only trouble was that he didn't have enough green to take him as far as he wanted to go and to carry him a week or two until he lined something up.
Well, there was always El Ringo. He looked down at it gleaming through the water which cascaded over his left hand.
No doubt many persons who had noticed the huge square-cut diamond in its massive gold band had concluded that Russ wore it as a gesture of vanity. That wasn't so. The two-carat stone, for which he had laid out a cool thousand five years ago, had helped him out of many of a scrape. It was the only insurance he owned. He could pawn it for a couple of hundred just about anywhere, and that was always enough to tide him over until some wages started to flow.
He found that the ownership of El Ringo was more practical than carrying a couple of hundred in his shoe. Cash was too easily spent on the spur of the moment-in the heat of a poker game or the pursuit of a girl. As for the risk of carrying a stone that large on his finger, Russ' own size and obvious toughness had always protected it.
He finished his shower, toweled himself briskly, and walked into the bedroom. He found the girl Linda sitting up in bed with a sheet wrapped around her.
She was a pretty good piece of ass. Russ guessed that many a man would have been tempted to stay in town for a while with a twat this good on the string. But he wasn't that way. Fuck 'em and forget 'em was his motto! He had always tried to do his leave-taking gracefully, however. There was no percentage in making them sore.
Linda had been surprisingly cooperative last night, readily agreeing to come to his room. She'd happened to be in a horny mood, he supposed. He'd caught girls before who had been in that frame of mind-girls who were probably "nice" most of the time. There had even been a couple whom he'd picked up and fucked real quick, without using any love-talk at all, who had turned out to be virgins. He hadn't had to con Linda, either. He'd just bought her a few drinks, snuggled her a bit, and-zowie!
But now it was time to get out. The ball was over.
"You're next," he grinned pleasantly.
She had glanced quickly at him, then looked away. Now she pulled the sheet more firmly about her and stood up. "You sure don't believe much in covering up, do you?" she asked.
"What good is it?" Russ countered. "By the way, what are you hiding? Is there something about you I haven't seen?"
"I don't guess there is," Linda said, looking at him rather dreamily now. He had stepped into knitted cotton briefs.
"Honey," he began, not looking at her as he selected a shirt from a dresser drawer, "I've got a little business I have to take care of, so I probably won't be here when you get out of the shower."
"Oh?"
"I have to raise some cash. The old bank-roll is just about tapped out, and that means I'll have to high-tail it of town and scare up some work."
She hesitated before answering. "Can't you find something to do around here? There's lots of construction going on."
He had told her, the evening before, about the job he'd had near Smithtown.
"I don't like to work in the city," he said. "I think I'll head up north. Do some lumber jacking, maybe."
"Sounds exciting," she remarked without enthusiasm.
He buttoned his white sport shirt and grinned at her. "I'm one of the roving kind, as the old song used to say. Have to keep on the go."
"So it was just a hump for a night, huh?" Her tone had sharpened slightly.
"A fuckin' good night ... for both of us, wasn't it?"
She stared at him. "I was thinking that maybe ..."
He walked over to her and took her by the shoulders. "I know, Linda. But I'm just not that kind of guy. You deserve somebody more steady."
Linda said, "It's going to be awfully hard to say goodbye to someone like you, Russ. The men around here-well there's just no comparison."
"I know how it is Linda baby. But when you gotta go, you gotta go," Russ quipped.
Linda went to him her naked body gleaming in the; morning's light, and put her arms around his neck. She pressed her torso against him and began to grind her round belly and cunt with a sensuous rhythm. She put her hands on his asscheeks after a while and pressed him to her more closely. She uttered a glad little cry as she felt his cock erecting once again. With a quick motion she pulled his throbbing dong from his shorts and shoved its head between her cuntlips.
He backed her to the wall and gave her the fucking which she so boldly desired, thrusting into her until his balls were slapping against her cuntlips. She paced him eagerly with her frantic cunt and then convulsed in shuddering ecstasy. Russ stiffened suddenly as he shot a terrific load of sperm into her twat, and joined her in a blissful surge of pleasure as he "came" with her once again.
Man, he thought, it sometimes sure is hard to say goodbye.
Three...
C C. "Bull" Zelman could be patient when he had to, so he settled himself comfortably in his Continental. He had parked about thirty feet from Lynbrook's one and only pawn shop, near the railroad station. It also was the town sporting goods center, so it was a little hard for Bull Zelman to tell whether a guy was going in to get some fishing tackle or a fast loan. But this was a case where Zelman figured he'd recognize the right man for his job as soon as he saw him.
As he turned things in his mind behind the wheel of the expensive limousine, Zelman hoped his man would turn out to be someone going in for a loan. A guy who could use a fast buck right away was the man Zelman wanted.
Provided, of course, that other qualifications in the looks and stud department were okay.
As the morning wore on, and Bull kept a close eye on the parade of characters going into the store, he began to worry a little. So far all he'd spotted were middle-aged married guys going in to buy bait for a big fishing week-end, or spindly little clerks going in to make a fast fifteen dollar loan until payday. Then Bull suddenly perked up. He opened the door of his car and with a few quick strides of his thick-set frame he confronted the ruggedly handsome, slightly surprised Russ Bates.
Zelman stepped close to him and said, "'Scuse me, Mack, but maybe you and I should have a little talk before you walk in there."
Russ looked him over. "Yeah?"
He figured the short stocky man for a peddler of some sort. He would probably roll up his coat sleeve and show a row of watchers, Russ thought. Still, maybe not. The guy was pretty well-dressed.
"I'm looking for a man to do a little job for me," Bull said. "You interested in picking up a few bucks ... real easy?"
"I'm heading out of town," Russ replied. He was curious, though. He wondered what sort of pitch the thick-set man would give him.
'This job's out of town," Bull said. 'It will only take you a day or two. There's five hundred in it."
"Five hundred?" Hell, five bills would suit Russ just fine. But what would he have to do?
Bull nodded toward an open-air sandwich stand on the other side of the pawn shop. "Let's get some coffee, huh? We can talk about it."
Russ shrugged and walked along. "How did you know I was out of work?"
"You were heading into a hock shop, weren't you?"
"I could have been going to buy something."
"Uuh-uh," Bull said. "Not the way you were walking. Buyers move along slow and they stop to look in the window first. You were coming to make a quick money deal."
"Pretty good," Russ remarked as he slid onto a stool beside the man.
"You want a doughnut or something?" Bull asked. "Not at a joint like this," Russ said. "Just coffee. There isn't much they can do to that."
Bull smiled in satisfaction. This guy might do just fine.
He ordered two coffees.
"Cigar?" he asked, taking a leather pouch from his ant pocket and flipping it open. Russ shook his head.
Bull put the pouch back. He still had a couple of to go on the one he was smoking. "Who do you want me to kill for you?" Russ asked with a grin.
The thin-faced counter man gave him a look. So did Bull. For a moment, Bull almost blanched. Then he returned the younger man's smile.
"Nothing like that," Bull said. "I want you to help me locate somebody." "Yeah?"
Bull waited until the counter man had moved away frost them. There's this babe. She's staying around Lynbrook."
Russ nodded.
"She used to live in New York. She and I were sort of ... uh, friendly you know. We had a little fuss and she ran ml I'd like to find her and get her back."
Russ looked at the man's face. "Sounds like your best bet is a private detective." "Uuh-uh. I'm a married man. I don't want to get a detective agency involved in this. I'd have to tell 'em who I was or they wouldn't take the case. Too risky. You don't know me, see. I could be anybody, as far as you're concerned. Right?" Russ nodded, still studying him. The babe used to call herself Jean Ludlow, but she's probably using another name now. I suppose she's dyed her hair too. The only thing I can tell you about her is that she's ..." Bull stopped talking as the counter man brought them mugs of coffee.
Zelman piled in three spoonfuls of sugar, then cream Russ pulled his cup over in front of him and decided to let it cool for a while before he took it black.
"As I was saying," Bull went on, "she's got a birthmark on her leg. Pretty high up. It's on the outside of the right one. And it's in the shape of a strawberry."
"This is wild," Russ remarked as he looked at the man beside him.
"What do you mean wild? I just want to locate her. You could stay around Lynbrook, spend a day or so circulating around until you spot her, then let me know what name she's using and where she lives. That's all I want."
"And how the hell do you expect me to go about it?" Russ asked, lifting his coffee mug. "All you've told me about her is that she's got a birthmark high on her leg. You want me to walk up to every dame in town and ask them to hike their skirts? Hell. I'd get my face slapped right away."
"I thought you said you knew Lynbrook? It's practically a beach town. The girls around there all wear shorts. You'll see the birthmark. It ain't gonna be any strain."
Russ sipped the hot coffee. "If it's that simple, why don't you do it yourself? And why are you willing to pay five hundred bucks?"
" 'Cause in the first place," Bull said, speaking softly but intensely as he leaned forward, his face turned to look the younger man in the eyes, "if this girl sees me in town she might do a runout before I can get to talk with her. Also, my time's too valuable. I've got a business to take care of in the city. I'm offering five hundred 'cause it's worth that much to me. Anyway, I don't figure a guy like you would be interested in fooling around over there for much less."
Russ looked him over pretty well, then said, "It still sounds wild to me."
Bull turned to face the front. "Okay. If you don't want it, just say so.
"I could use the dough," Russ said and sipped from his cup.
Bull looked at him again. "Does that mean you'll do it?"
"Not so fast. Those five bills are in advance ... right?"
"Unh-uh," Bull said. "Two now and the rest when you tell me where the girl lives." "No dice," Russ told him. "Why not?"
"I could be stuck in that forsaken town for a month, lacking for a needle in a haystack."
"It won't take that long," Bull said. "This will be a "five hundred in advance," Russ said firmly, looking to the front. "And another five when I deliver." "Are you nuts?" Bull snapped. Russ shrugged and said nothing. This job ain't worth a thousand clams." "To me it is."
Russ had no doubt that the hawk-faced man hadn't told him the whole story. The deal was shady, otherwise the joker wouldn't have approached him the way he had. And he wouldn't have offered even five hundred. Might as well get as much as the traffic will bear, Russ thought. He wondered who the girl was and why the fat man was so hot to locate her.
"I'll tell you," Bull said. "Well make it three now and three later. Okay?"
"Five and five," Russ said.
"Listen ... you gotta be reasonable."
Russ dragged at his coffee and said nothing.
"Okay. Okay. Four and four. Now that's positively my tops. Take it or I find myself another boy."
I'll take it," Russ said, figuring he had driven himself a good bargain.
"By the way," Russ said, "we haven't introduced ourselves yet."
He could hear the other man's sigh of relief.
"That's part of the deal, remember? You don't know me and I don't know you."
Russ looked at him. "Then how am I going to contact you?"
"Put an ad in the Times personal column. Give me a phone number to call. Address the ad to Dave and sign it Eddie."
Russ laughed. "This is really the damnedest! Tell me this: What makes you think I won't just take your four hundred and high-tail it to parts unknown?"
"I trust you," Bull said. "Ain't you ever heard of trust? Besides, you wouldn't do that. It wouldn't he healthy."
"How do you figure?" Russ asked into his cup as he took the last of the coffee.
"I got a little influence," Bull said carefully. "And I don't like to be crossed."
"Still, I think it would be easy."
"You think wrong, friend."
Russ regarded the other man as if he was a museum freak, then shook his head and grinned. "I've heard some wild ones, buddy, but..."
"You ready to collect the money and get started?" Bull asked.
Russ shrugged. "Might as well."
Bull nodded toward the street. "Let's go."
Russ followed him. When they were on the sidewalk and away from the sandwich stand, Russ grasped Bull's arm. "Where do I have to go to get the loot?"
"You're on the corner where it ain't so crowded."
"You're gonna hand it over right now, huh? Spot cash?"
Bull nodded, squinting at him. They were standing in the middle of the sunny sidewalk with pedestrians washing! past them.
"How do I know you told me a straight story about wanting to find this girl?" Russ said.
"You don't." They looked at one another for a few moments. "I kinda thought my money would do the talking, anyway," Bull said.
"What if I fool around for a few days, and draw a blank? What then?"
"Come back to town and run the ad. I'll call you and we'll talk."
"You'll want your dough back if I decide to quit." Bull shrugged. "I'm a reasonable man. Anyhow, don't worry. You'll find the broad. Just look for the birthmark - about three inches long, shaped like a strawberry. It's on her right leg. You'll spot it. Hell, eight hundred bucks ain't bad pay just for lookin' at girls' legs." Russ had to admit he was right about that. "It's your money," he said.
They walked down the street and around into an alley where the Bull passed Russ the money. Russ didn't return to his hotel right away. He figured Linda might still be there. After he and the man had said goodbye, he sauntered over to a paperback book store, and stepped inside to browse.
He knew damned well the man had been stringing him. But the money handed out was real. Russ had never seen eight more beautiful portraits of President Grant. And he needed that loot right then.
As for spending a few days in Lynbrook, he had no objections. The Island was pleasant in June. The resort season would be getting into full swing and there'd be lots of girls around. Choice, vacation cunt. What more could an enterprising prick-pusher ask?
Finding the girl with the birthmark might be hard, though. Still, he'd give it a go for a few days while he spent two or three of the bills. He would still have enough left to pet him up north.
Russ smiled to himself. Just let the fat man try to get it back if the deal doesn't pan out. Russ ran an ad to contact him? Why should he do that if there wasn't more money to be had?
He remembered what the man had said about how it wouldn't be healthy for Russ to cross him. Was that all bluff, he wondered, or would "Dave" really be checking up on him somehow? But, hell, if there was another guy spotted in Lynbrook or ready to go there, what would the fat man have needed with Russ at all?
The damned thing stank like an old bucket of fish Russ wouldn't have had a thing to do with it if it hadn't been for those eight fifties that were begging to be picked How the hell could a guy turn them down?
This boy was either pretty smart, or else he was the biggest idiot who'd ever come down the pike. Russ couldn't decide which.
But he'd work on the deal. Why not? He'd give old "Dave" a run for his lettuce. After he found the girl - or he didn't-he'd decide what to do next.
The more Russ thought things over, the more he decided this was one of the queerest deals he'd ever gotten rung in on in his whole life. "Dave's" money certainly talked and he kept fingering the crisp bills in his pants pocket where he'd stuffed them. There was something the whole situation that didn't smell right-but first he'd find the girl and then play things by ear.
Russ left the store and headed back for the hotel he was staying at. Now that he was going to be in town a few more days at least, he was sorry that he had given Linda had walking papers that morning. He hoped, as he entered the hotel, that she might have come back for something, that he'd see her in the room. He still couldn't forget that wild fucking session earlier in the morning, and the way her attractive face and gorgeous naked body had seemed to wilt when he told her it was just a one night stand after all.
Chapter Four
Penny Williams was an unusually attractive girl and knew it. With her reddish blonde hair, cute features, generous up-tilted young tits and lush hips swinging, she was a real eye-stopper. She generally appreciated the lustful, head turning looks she always got from the males aged eighteen to sixty on her way to work, but today she was too troubled.
She entered the law office of Alfred Higdon and sat town before her typewriter. Mr. Higdon had come in and rushed out again for court, but there was about five dictaphone belts for her to transcribe. She put on the earphones and heard Mr. Higdon droning away on some letter and then she flicked the machine off. She simply couldn't concentrate. She was still too upset by the ghastly scene she had witnessed by accident on the old beach road last night.
She had actually seen that man raising his hands from he woman's lifeless body. Penny had practically seen him kill her. There had certainly been no question that the man had done the deed, considering the way he had looked. And there was no question that the woman was dead. The glimpse Penny had gotten of the victim's discolored fact tongue protruding, and the limp, twisted way in which he body had been spread out in the sand would have convinced anybody.
One look at the man's sweating face-the eyes glassy and almost bugging from their sockets-had been enough to make Penny turn and run. She hadn't said a word and neither had he.
As she drove away, she had intended to go right to the sheriff's sub-station and make a report, as an law-abiding citizen would do. But the man's horrible, evil face had haunted her.
He had killed in cold blood, strangling the life out of that woman's body. Would he hesitate to do the same to Penny if she talked?
He wasn't a local man. Penny knew that because the Continental which had been parked on the road with it lights on and one door open had borne a New York dealer's name and address on its license frame.
What if she talked and the police couldn't find the man right away? What if, in the meantime, he returned to Lynbrook or sent someone else to kill her? The way the man had looked, she knew he would be capable of killing again.
Penny hadn't really decided against reporting the murder and describing the man she had seen do it. She had just wanted to think it over-to sleep on it. But by that morning the body had been found and word of the crime had spread over the whole town. It was about the only thing that people were talking about.
Penny had first heard it at the grocery when she'd gone out to buy milk and rolls for breakfast. Then one of her mother's friends had called to talk about it before Penny had left for work. Later her boyfriend, Jack, ha called her at the office.
She hadn't been prepared to have anyone mention the crime to her so soon. Since she hadn't made up her mind about what she wanted to do, she had acted as if she hadn't known about it. After she'd done that, how could she do an about-face and tell her story of having seen the man commit the crime? What would people think of her?
So she had remained quiet. And now she was deeply troubled.
Her boss, Mr. Higdon, had been the only one who hadn't mentioned the crime. He'd been in such a hurry to get to court in Hempstead, that he'd hardly even bid her good morning.
Alfred Higdon was one of the well-known lawyers in Lynbrook. He'd practiced law there for over twenty years and just about everybody in the area used him whenever they had legal matters to take care of. As a result, he had a thriving practice, with plenty of work to keep a secretary busy. Penny had worked for him for almost two years-ever since she'd completed her course in the Hempstead business school.
She didn't know how much longer she could stand it though, living in a small town and caring for an invalid mother. Yes, and dating Jack Brooks, too. Jack was becoming insistent about their getting married. He didn't want to wait any longer. But Penny didn't really want to marry him. Looking back on it now, she could hardly understand how she and Jack had even become engaged. It had been just something she had drifted into. She guessed. Like a bit of wood floating down a stream that gets caught in the weeds. Her entire life seemed to have been like that. She had never really done anything, in the sense of planning it objectively. She had always just let things happen to her. Her job with Mr. Higdon had happened. He had spoken to her mother and her mother had made the arrangements.
Her affair with Jack had come about in much the same way. Not through her mother, of course. But Penny had drifted into it. She had met Jack right after she and her mother had arrived in town. Jack had liked her and had asked her to go out. She had accepted him without being attracted to him at all, and that's the way it had started.
Even coming to Lynbrook hadn't been of her own doing. Her mother's doctor had advised a climate near the shore for her, and so they had moved down from Syracuse Her mother's meager savings had barely covered the down payment on the house and seen them through a yea During that time, her mother had suggested that Penny take a business course and then look for a job in Hempstead, the nearest town of any size. When the opportunity to work for Mr. Higdon right there in Lynbrook had appeared, however it had seemed perfect-to her mother, at least-and so, of course, Penny had taken it.
But Penny, as would any twenty-year-old, had her own ideas about what she wanted to do.
The conflict between what she seemed to have to do and what she wanted to do had become sharper in recent weeks. And she knew why. It was because of Jack. He had become very insistent.
He wasn't insisting on screwing her. Not just like that at any rate Jack had never insisted on it. He was what the elder ladies of the town referred to as a "good boy". He was good, Penny admitted. Good and dull. He would probably spend the rest of his life in Lynbrook, eventually inheriting the drug store which his father owned and probably continuing to operate it as long as he lived. That meant his wife would be stuck in Lynbrook for the rest of her life, too.
For that reason alone-even if there had been no other-Penny wouldn't have wanted to marry him.
But there was another reason. An even better reason The simple truth of the matter was that she didn't love Jack Brooks. They had gone together for over two years and since she hadn't learned to love him in that length of time she knew it was a certainty that she never would.
As she sat staring at the typewriter, her thoughts having now entirely shifted from the horrible murder of the night before to her own personal situation, Penny forced herself to remembering a certain boy. He was the first boy her life-the only boy with whom she had been intimate.
His name was Ritchie.
She and Ritchie had been high school sweethearts in Syracuse.
They had planned to get married, but Ritchie had gone into the service, and then her mother's health had made it necessary that she and Penny leave Syracuse, Ritchie and Penny had exchanged letters for awhile, but their love hadn't had enough strength to sustain it under adverse circumstances, and the correspondence had dwindled off. Still, she thought about Ritchie a lot.
Engagement to Ritchie-even as indefinite as their future had seemed-had been a lot different than engagement to Jack. To Ritchie's way - of thinking, the relationship had entitled him to certain privileges with her body beyond just kissing and light petting. Penny had gone along with only a small amount of persuasion. After all, they had loved one another and they had intended to get married. And, anyway, she had wanted to. Ritchie had been a very attractive boy. His touch had done things to her - things quite different from the touch of Jack.
In the ensuing three years, Penny had thought a lot about the things they had done.
Now she thought of one date in particular. She was seventeen, as was Ritchie. They had dated twice before. On this occasion he'd taken her to a rock 'n roll bash at the fairgrounds auditorium outside of town. On their way back, they had parked at a quiet spot. She and Ritchie had kissed before. He had kissed her was their first date, as a matter of fact. On the next date they had remained for a while in his car in front of her house and they'd kissed several times. Also he had tried to feel her breasts. Though she had pushed his hand away, his touch had thrilled her.
Now, as he brought his car to a stop on a quiet country road and turned on the seat to face her, Penny was aware of an intense excitement building up within her. How far would he try to go? she wondered. And what would she do? Would she let him have his way?
He pulled out cigarettes. "Want one?" he asked.
"You know that I don't smoke, Ritchie." They had gone through that on their first date.
He grinned. Ritchie Craig was slim, light-haired, and had a rather cynical cast to his youthful face, his lips thin and mobile and his blue eyes dropping slightly at their corners.
He said, "What do you do, anyway, Penny? For kicks, I mean."
Penny looked at him. Though they were the same age, she seemed younger. She wore her lustrous brown hair in a soft and unsophisticated style, and her clothes were definitely school-girlish.
This reflected her mother's influence, of course. Mrs, Williams hadn't wanted Penny to grow up fast. Penny was all she had, the girl's father having died when she was four years old.
"Well?" Ritchie pressed. "Drink beer, do you?" She shook her head, her eyes rather wide. "Pet?" "Ritchie!"
He slipped the cigarettes back in his pocket without having lit one and moved closer to the girl. She felt a kind of interna] trembling. His body was now pressing against hers and they were so completely alone. There was no one anywhere around.
Ritchie supped his arm along the top of the car seat behind her. "What's wrong with petting? I'll bet you've never even tried it, have you?"
"Well I... " He wrapped his fingers around her right shoulder and pulled her more tightly against him. "Have you ever let a guy kiss you-the real way, I mean?"
"You kissed me the other night," she reminded him, turning her face toward his. This brought their lips close enough for him to kiss her without having to move his head hardly at all. Penny thrilled at the thought, knowing that a kiss was surely coming.
But Ritchie took his time and grinned. "You are green, aren't you?"
"What do you mean?" The girl stiffened slightly.
"You aren't hip," Ritchie said. 'That kissing we did the other night-that was baby stuff. You want me to show you what a real kiss feels like?"
"Now, Ritchie..."
"Relax, chick. Nobody's gonna hurt you. And nobody will know, either. I ain't one of those cats that tells things. Anything you do with me is between us. Understand?"
'1-I guess so. But I don't really know what you're talking about."
Penny had thought it best to play dumb right then, thought it wasn't all play-acting. She'd had very little experience with boys.
"Kissing," Ritchie said. 'That's what I'm talking about. Real kissing, if you want the truth."
A new tingle went through Penny's body. She'd heard about French kissing, of course. It was with the tongues. But she'd never kissed a boy that way and no boy had kissed her that way, either.
"I don't think we'd better," she said, having difficulty keeping her voice steady.
"Why not? Don't you want to find out what it's like?"
Ritchie's warm breath was striking her cheek and his fingers seemed to burn her where they had hold of her upper arm.
He leaned closer, his lips almost brushing hers. "Here. We'll try it once. You tell me if you like it."
Penny parted her lips to speak and, at that precise moment, Ritchie clamped his open mouth against hers. Her heart lurched and began beating furiously at the touch of his tongue. He found her tongue and caressed it gently.
Penny moved her tongue just a little, almost without conscious direction, and this heightened the thrills which were racing through her.
Ritchie began to work his tongue.
Penny was suddenly warm, her entire body having seemed to ignite all at once.
She pulled away.
"What's the matter?" Ritchie demanded, catching his breath.
"That makes me feel so funny," she said, noticing a slight hoarseness in her voice.
"Funny how-good or bad?" "Well... good."
Ritchie grinned. "Let's try some more."
Before Penny could do a thing to stop him-as if she had really wanted to-his lips were pressing her again. More insistently this time. And his tongue searched for hers once more. Penny let her tongue move to his ... A new sensation of delight shot through her as she felt Ritchie's hand on the front of her pink sweater. His palm was against one of her tits and then he was wrapping his entire hand around it and he was squeezing - She pushed at his hand and pulled her lips from his at the same time. "No!" she said.
But Ritchie kept his hand there. He was teasing her carefully, pressing his fingertips to the lush softness of the girlish breast which was encased in the silken cup of her brassiere.
"You like that, don't you?" he asked. "How does that make you feel?"
"It makes me feel funny," Penny answered frankly. "Ritchie, I'm afraid."
He laughed softly and nuzzled her ear as his hand continued to feel the resiliency of her breasts. There's nothing to be afraid of, Penny. I love you. And I think you kind'a flip for me too, don't you?"
"I like you a lot, Ritchie," she managed, her hand more or less limply holding onto his wrist as his fingers squeezed her tits rhythmically but with great gentleless."
No other boy had ever done that to her and she'd had no idea how good it would feel. It was just wonderful! She wanted Ritchie to keep on feeling her titties. Now she was sorry she had worn a brassiere.
Ritchie let his hand slide down to her waist and, before she realized what he was doing, he had slipped his fingers underneath the bottom of her sweater and was running them upward across her bare skin.
Penny thought desperately, Stop him! I must stop him!
But she didn't want to stop him. She wanted him to seek and find the naked mounds of her tits and to squeeze them and heighten the delirious feeling that had taken possession of her entire body.
His fingertips touched the bottom edge of her brassiere and, in only a moment, succeeded in working themselves underneath. Now they were creeping upward and outward over the lush satiny swell that was her right breast.
"Noohh ..." she moaned softly as one of his fingertips touched her nipple.
Electricity seemed to pass from his hand to the extremely sensitive flesh that tipped her breasts. The normally soft skin was not soft any more. Now, as he held it between the tips of two of his fingers, her nipple was an exclamation point of passion, pressing out and upward.
"Oh ... oohh ..." she said in sweet torture.
"Let's take off you sweater and bra, huh?" Ritchie asked huskily. "I want to see those pretty tits of yours. Please, baby..."
"We shouldn't," she said, even as another voice inside her was urging her to let him. She felt giddy, as if she were wavering on the very edge of a cliff and about to fall over.
"It will be neat, Penny," the boy pleaded. "You'll like it. I'll be good to you. I just want to hold them a little. And kiss them. You've never had them kissed, I'll bet."
Hie thought shocked her - but wonderfully. "I've never even let a boy touch me there."
"Then I'll show you what it's like."
He was already pulling her sweater up and there seemed to be nothing Penny could do. She couldn't fight. She didn't want to fight.
Her sweater came over her head and then he was going for the hooks on the back strap of her brassiere. The white bra was packed to overflowing, with Penny's tempting creamy tits bubbling above it.
Ritchie knew just how to unhook the bra.
It opened.
Ritchie pulled it away and down her arms.
"Man!" he said, staring at her naked breasts. "Man alive, beauties!"
"You really like them?" Penny asked against the constriction which threatened to close her throat. She felt flushed and giddier than ever-seemingly about to fall into a pit from which she might not be able to save herself.
"Wowww ..." the boy breathed as his hands cradled the surging pink-capped breasts. He held them gently, letting his thumbs and index fingers lightly test their softness. "I've never seen such tits."
Though his mumbling compliment had expired uncompleted, it nevertheless gave Penny a tremendous sense of pride. She could tell by his tone and the way he was staring that he really liked what he saw.
She had never been quite sure whether her breasts were the kind boys especially liked. Maybe they were too big, she had thought, or maybe the circles around the nipples were too wide, or maybe the nipples themselves were too prominent.
But now she knew.
Ritchie liked them.
Ritchie was almost going ape over them. He was squeezing them in his hands and shaking them gently back and forth. He was moving them on her chest and pulling at them. He made her nipples ache as he drew them toward him between his fingers and thumbs and then as he rolled them, and flicked, and ...
He bent his head down and forward.
"Oh, God!" Penny gasped and she clutched him around the neck.
He had one of her nipples in his mouth and he was pulling on it. Thrills rolled through her like tidal waves. She felt as if she was drowning in liquid fire.
Oh, how she wanted him! She wanted him to do more ... She wanted him to ... fuck her!
But she couldn't let him do that! It wasn't right and it wasn't safe. Her mother had warned her. She'd heard about what had happened to other girls.
Ritchie moved from one of her big beautiful breast-buds to the other. His tongue worked again. He drew it across the edges of his teeth. The delicious excitement of his tit-caressing drove her almost out of her mind.
Then she did something impulsively. Had she thought about it, she never would have dared. But she was beyond thinking. All she could do was to feel and thrill and discover. She placed her hand on him, on the bulge in his pants where his cock was.
She gasped.
Ritchie jerked upright. "Yeah, baby," he said huskily. "No ... no ... " Proceeding blindly-spurred by a mixture of curiosity and desire-Penny delved onward.
Ritchie showed her what to do. She caught on fast.
The boy pressed backward against the car seat, his eyes jammed shut. She couldn't stop. She was caught in the fascination of it all, as if she were hypnotized.
"Oh!" she cried out, as he unzipped his fly and exposed his huge throbbing prick.
"It's all right," he gasped.
He plunged his hands beneath her skirt and began to run them upward along her bare legs.
Suddenly, shocked out of the spell which had gripped her Penny fought him like a tigress, pressing her knees tightly together. Her naked white tits quivered and shook in the moonlight.
"No ... no ... no ..." she said.
Ritchie stopped and removed his hands from her cuntlips.
"I'm sorry," he said desperately.
"It's all right." She bit down on her lip. She thought for a moment that she was going to cry. "Please take me home."
She didn't see Ritchie for awhile after that-except at school, of course, where they passed one another in the corridors or on the grounds at noon and between classes. Ritchie tried to talk with her but she merely continued on her way, giving him only a civil greeting.
She felt ashamed over what had happened. Actually she blamed herself more than Ritchie. Her liking for him-her love, she now believed-had, if anything grown stronger.
Her desire for him had grown stronger, too. She wanted to have him in the real way-Still, she was afraid. Anyway, she didn't see how they would ever get close to one another again, after how she had foolishly bungled everything on their last date.
But they did get together again.
Ritchie telephoned her at home. Once. Twice. Three times. Finally she agreed to out with him again.
As soon as they were alone, he told her how much he loved her and wanted to marry her. All the emotion she'd been suppressing burst into the open. She cried and said she loved him, also. And she accepted his proposal. They talked about getting married right after graduation day.
And that night Ritchie took her on the back seat of his car.
She let him undress her piece by piece-blouse, brassiere, skirt, and half-slip. It was awkward in the confined space of the automobile, but Penny helped, wriggling her body as Ritchie's avid fingers stripped the clothing from her.
Finally she was down to nothing but her thin silken panties which were a delicate pale pink. Never had she experienced such a thrill as when the boy's hands grasped and pulled the elastic downward, turning the panties inside out. The nylon clung for a moment, but Penny's twisting and Ritchie's tugging soon set them free and they slid down her legs and then the rest of the way.
Her pants were off, she suddenly realized, Ritchie had pulled them right off her!
As she eagerly awaited what was to happen next, Ritchie proceeded ...
Laughing, in spite of the passion which had both of them in its spell, Ritchie pushed her hands away from his cock.
"Not this time, chick," he said.
He bent over her ... kissing and caressing more intimately than ever before. He held and squeezed her breasts. He kissed the thick spires of her nipples. He kissed her navel. She sighed and whimpered.
Then Ritchie moved toward her and the moment of moments had arrived.
Oh, this was wonderful!
He was going to fuck her. Really fuck her. Man, this was wild!
She moved toward him.
He exulted, "Oh, baby, you're the greatest!"
And then neither of them said any more. They couldn't talk. Ritchie thrust his cock between her cuntlips and with a single thrust ruptured her cherry. Then he shoved his prick all the way in up to his balls. A quiver went through Penny as he broke her cherry.
Then Penny felt herself being inexpressibly thrilled as his cock thrust in and out of her tight cunt-hole.
She was getting closer and closer. She was almost there. Just a little more.
She shuddered in the grip of a tremendous pleasure that shook her to the very depths of her soul. Ritchie was making groaning noises and she felt hot sperm jetting into her pussy ... She guessed this is what "coming" was all about...
After she had fallen limp, she realized that Ritchie was quiet, also. He was kissing her neck and nibbling at her ears.
"Oh, baby, that was the greatest hump ever!" he murmured. "Wow, do I love you!"
Penny didn't answer. She felt as if she didn't have the breath to say a word. She didn't want to talk anyway. The moment was too perfect.
She was blissfully happy. Ritchie loved her and she loved him. They were engaged and his cock had made a woman of her.
Maybe more of a woman than the average girl her age she thought as bittersweet memories flooded back. Later there had been another car date that she would never forget. Ritchie had been kissing her nipples delicately and nibbling them lightly making them just erect and cherry-red on the lush whiteness of her breasts. She couldn't keep from wriggling her thighs and ass as Ritchie kept kissing them. Then he moved his lips downward, kissing her navel, his tongue flicking through her little hidden crevice there. She tensed and pressed her buttocks against the seat, but Ritchie cupped their cheeks. He pulled her thighs apart slightly and a shuddering gasp left Penny as she felt his lips sucking on her cuntlips and clitoris. Her thighs worked like runaway pistons in response to the wonderful sensations Ritchie's tongue was sending through her pussy.
A fireworks display seemed to go off inside her and she screamed with a pleasure so intense she never knew it was possible ... she moaned for long moments in Ritchie arms afterwards.
"Now that you've been cunt-lapped by an expert, you're becoming a woman of the world," he had grinned at her...
But now it was almost three years later. She had to contend with the "good" dullness of Jack Brooks and there was this horrible thing she had witnessed accidentally the night before.
Chapter Five
There was no nude Linda waiting in bed in the hot room as Russ Bates half-expected there might be.
"Well," he said to himself, "the chick took me at my word. This'll give me a chance to recharge my batteries anyway. I can sure use a good night's sleep. No use worrying about Linda, I'm going to have to undress and screw all of this town's young broads anyway to find strawberry birthmark."
Refreshed Russ had himself a good breakfast the next morning at a Main Street diner and gassed up his Chevy Then he strolled leisurely along Lynbrook's Main Street Russ found himself pleasurably checking the naked hips on an unusual amount of attractive young girls who passed him by in shorts. While Lynbrook wasn't completely a resort town, it was close enough to the South Shore's magnificent beaches to attract plenty of vacationers. There were people who preferred the advantages of a built-up community like Lynbrook, with the beaches just minutes away by car.
It was cheaper than a beach summer rental too. Russ was startled for a moment when he saw a luscious pair of thighs sidling by with what looked like a pink mark just beneath the short line. He couldn't be that lucky this fast. He gave the whole situation a double-take and saw that it couldn't be. The babe with the mark was just an over-developed kid of about sixteen, and the mark was just pink adhesive tape shaped like her initial where she wanted to suntan around it. Russ felt the change of the first fifty he had cracked earlier for breakfast beginning to burn a hole in his wallet. He crossed the sun-baked sidewalk, carefully avoiding a buxom false-blonde in an overstuffed set of pink pedal pushers, and made for a pleasantly dark and cool-looking cave. The cave went by the inglorious name of The Host.
Walking in, he discovered that it was not a dump. But it wasn't plush either. It was neat and small. There were several people at the bar, among them one who was young and female. But she was well escorted by a sharp-eyed little man old enough to be her father. Well, Russ wasn't prospecting right then, anyway. He sat down beside an old codger in a flowered shirt and straw hat. "Draft beer," he said to the bartender, who topped six feet and weighed close to three hundred pounds. The man nodded and drew a glass. "You the boss?" Russ asked when the beer was placed in front of him. "That's right," the guy said, wiping off the bar. Russ decided to ask a question. After all, the man who'd hired him in New York hadn't said anything about keeping his girl-searching confidential. "Tell me something," Russ began. "If I can," the barman responded, putting his rag away and blinking a pair of eyes that were almost lost in folds of flesh.
"Do you happen to know a girl living in or around who has a strawberry birthmark on her right leg?"
The flesh of the bartender's eyes closed and opened a couple of times. "That all you can tell me about her?" "Afraid so."
The barman shook his head. "You're outta luck, bud. That description don't ring any bells." He picked up a glass and began polishing. "But, then I haven't inspected too many dames' legs lately-real close up, I mean." He guffawed.
"Thanks just the same," Russ said.
"Don't you know this babe's name or anything else about her?"
"Nope." Russ sipped his beer. It tasted good.
"What are you-a private eye or something?"
"In a way, yeah."
The bartender put down his glass. "Well, happy hunting." He stuck out a thick hand, palm upward.
Russ took a fifty dollar bill from his wallet and handed it over.
"Aw, come on!" the bartender protested.
"Sorry. That's the smallest I've got."
"For one lousy beer?" The flesh folds blinked several times again.
"Who can tell?" Russ said. "I might order another one."
The bartender made a face and carried the bill to the cash register.
Well, Russ told himself, this had been his first time at bat and he's struck out. But he'd needed the beer and he wanted to change all the fifties into smaller bills. Those were, after all, the reasons he'd walked into the joint.
The barman brought his change. "If I was you, bud, I'd stroll around town for a while and keep my eyes open. The babes around here show a lotta leg and ass. You might get lucky and see the one you want."
"I think I'll do that," Russ said.
He sipped his beer slowly, enjoying the way it cleared and cooled his throat and enjoying also the air-conditioner in the small bar. He thought to himself that these joint must have been real miserable before that gadget was invented.
When he reached the bottom of his glass, he signaled for a refill. The barman took care of it without a word and picked up his payment from the change Russ had left lying the wood.
The second glass of brew made Russ feel human again. He got up and walked to the hot outdoors.
He ought to set himself up in a motel first, he guessed. And he'd pick himself a good one. Why not? It was someone else's money he was spending, wasn't it? Anyway, there was a chance he might spot the girl with the birthmark at a motel that had a pool.
He walked to his car but hesitated before climbing behind the wheel, his attention captured by a brown-haired beauty who was parading along the sidewalk in a pair of olive green Bermuda shorts with a knit shirt hanging outside them. Russ gave her a good look. No birthmark. At least there was none in evidence. Of course, her shorts were kind of long.
This was going to be a hell of a job, he decided. He backed his Chevy into the street, drove to the next intersection, and U-turned. He headed for one of the plush motels he'd noticed on his way into town. The place, called The Lido, was marked by a tremendous sign which depicted a bikini clad girl lying on the sand. The motel itself was built in a huge two-storied U, its massive shape sheltering a pool and flowered patio. Russ guided his Chevy under the brilliant Entrance sign and parked beside the glass-enclosed office. Five minutes later he was in his room-a single on the upper deck toward the rear. There, in the course of another five minutes or so, he showered off the sweat and dust of the road and slipped into swimming trunks. With a towel bunched in one hand and cigarettes in the other, he went down to join the rest of the guests at the sparkling blue-green pool.
He smoked a cigarette and looked around.
Though almost five o'clock, the sun was still up and the thermometer was well in the eighties. Several guests frolicked in the glistening water while others lolled pool-side in bathing suits and other types of sun-wear.
Russ took a dip first, diving in from the deck and swimming vigorously the length of the pool a couple of times. Then he pulled himself out where he had dropped his towel and smoked. He dried his curly brown hair and his bronzed muscular body.
Refreshed, he decided it was time to get to work - or at least to go through the motions. He doubted that he could accomplish much. But then, you never knew.
He strolled along the edge of the pool, being as casual as possible about his examination of the broads assembled there. Some - the old and the homely - he dismissed with a quick glance at their faces. That left two or three possibles not counting those who were in the water at the moment He approached the first prospect and looked her over. Blonde, she wore a suit that was the color of buttercups - a good deal lighter and brighter than the shade of her hair. As to cups, Russ guessed that her built-in bra was at least a C. In other words, she was titanically curved - or curvaceously breasted, which - ever you prefer.
Russ might ordinarily have been tempted to flop down beside her and try to strike up acquaintance, since she seemed to be unescorted. But now he was working, and so he merely inspected her legs. They bore no birthmark.
She cast him a sharp glance and he moved on.
Toward the far end of the pool a redhead sat cross-legged in a deck chair with a thin and hungry-looking man beside her. Though probably not much older than she was, the man's bald head and glasses gave him a middle-age appearance. As Russ approached the man took his glasses off, put them down, and made for the pool.
Russ studied the redhead, who wore a snug two-piece suit made of multicolored Spandex.
About 27, she too was quite slim. But she had an agreeable pair of tits. They were like hard apples, placed high on her chest. Tanned a deep coppery shade, her legs were lithe and strong-looking.
After he'd finished checking her legs and had found no birthmark, the girl caught his eye. She smiled invitingly. "See anything you like?" she asked. He stopped in momentary surprise, then recovered and grinned back at her. "Sure. But I'll bet your friend likes it just as much."
"Don't worry about him," she said, taking off her dark glasses. Her eyes were impish.
"Don't tell me he's your brother." "He might as well be." She indicated the chair beside her. "Sit down, why don't you?" Russ shrugged, then sat.
"Russ." He was trying to figure her out. This was as bold a come-on as he'd ever received.
"You staying here for long, Russ?" she asked. "A day or so." "It's nice, isn't it?" "Not bad."
"You're pretty nice, too, if you don't mind my saying so." Her eyes were appraising him frankly.
"Are you on the welcoming committee at this place?" he asked cuttingly. Russ always sort of backed off when a woman threw herself at him.
She laughed. "You have spirit, too. I like that." This cunt was shameless, he thought. She seemed to have the predatory instinct of a man. He decided to play along with her to find out just how far she would go. "You're all right yourself," he said. "Fact is, as I was walking over here I thought, now there's a girl who has possibilities."
"You did, hmmm?" Her eyes sparkled with a naked hump-invitation.
"Yeah, But when I saw the guy with you ..." Russ toe sentence drop off. "Will you forget about him? He's just a business acquaintance."
"And not your type, hm?"
"You must not have looked him over very well or you wouldn't even ask." She paused, then added, "I like them with muscles." She looked at Russ again.
"I'll bet you do."
"You want me to tell you what I really like - more than anything else?" She leaned closer.
Russ nodded and looked at her in fascination.
She said softly, the smile still on her face, "I like to fuck!"
Well, that did it! She had to be a whore, Russ thought, or she wouldn't be flinging herself at him that way.
He didn't like paying for a cunt. He'd done that a few times he'd been out of luck, but he wasn't in that condition now. There was lots of free pussy to be had around a place like Lynbrook.
"You've got the wrong guy," he said curtly and started to get up.
He looked at her. The smile was still in place on her red lips.
He settled back again. "So tell me what I'm thinking, hum?"
"You're thinking that I'm - how shall I say it? - commercially-minded girl. Right?" "That's about it."
"You're wrong man." Her brown eyes held his levelly.
He didn't say anything but waited for her to go on.
She did: "It just happens that I like your looks. And right now I need a little frigging. I know that's not lady-like thing to say, but then I'm not much of a lady. I'm not a tramp either. What I am is female. You want to give me a chance to prove that?"
"And the guy in the pool?" Russ asked. She had gotten him interested now. "He won't bother us," Diane said, wriggling in her chair as if getting ready to stand.
"Okay," Russ said. "Let's go."
They got up and she led the way to her room.
It was quitting time, but Penny Williams remained at her desk. Her boss, Alfred Higdon, was with a client.
She could have just sat back and done nothing while she waited for old Mrs. Jamison to leave. But she decided she might as well keep typing. She still had a lot of work to get out, and what she didn't do today would have to be done tomorrow.
Her decision to talk with her boss about the murder which had been committed at the edge of town the night before had come as the result of an entire day spent in thinking about the matter. She had finally decided that she couldn't remain silent about what she'd seen. She had a duty as a law-biding citizen to speak up. More important than that, however, was her human wish to see the killer brought to justice and made to pay for his crime.
Her purpose in deciding to take the matter up with Mr. Higdon, rather than to go directly to Jim Navell, the Sheriff, in charge of the Lynbrook area, was in the interest of self-protection. As an attorney, Higdon could be her intermediary. He could approach, Navell, who happened to be a poker-playing buddy of his, and explain Penny's reluctance to come forward earlier. Then a confidential meeting could be arranged at which Penny would give her statement. Her identity could be kept a secret until the killer was apprehended. That way, as far as the public was concerned, the witness to the killing might be just any client of Higdon's.
At least, this was the way Penny hoped it could be worked out. She believed that her safety would therefore be protected and she still would be doing her duty and he helping to bring the murderer to account.
So she was waiting until her boss was free, having chosen the end of the business day as the best time to discuss the matter with him. Then they could be reasonably assured of no interruptions.
She typed for another five minutes ... ten ... and finally Higdon's door opened and the fat form of Mrs. Jamison waddled into view. The old woman gave Penny a pleasant but impersonal smile and Penny bid her good night.
When the outer door had closed behind her, Penny stood up and started for her boss' private room. At the connecting door she met him coming out, brief case in hand.
"Penny!" He stared at her over his brown-rimmed glasses. "Still here?"
Higdon was in his fifties, slight in stature, and had a tanned, young-looking face. His hair what was left of it-was iron-gray. At the moment it was mostly covered by the straw hat which was cocked on his head. The man had a rather preoccupied way about him, but he was usually considerate.
"I'd like to talk to you for a minute," Penny said hesitatingly. 'That is, if you have the time."
Higdon looked at her, then stepped back into his office. "I guess that beer I was thinking about will wait," he said good-naturedly and motioned Penny to a chair. "Something personal?"
As he rounded his un-neat desk and placed his straw hat on top of the clutter, Penny said, "In a way, yes. But it's also about the murder."
Higdon sat down and took off his reading glasses to permit him to get a better look at her. "You mean the woman who was found on the old back road last night?"
"Yes," Penny said, twisting her hands in her lap. "I ... well, that is, I'd been over at the Brooks' and I was driving home when it happened." She went on to relate exactly what she had seen.
Higdon leaned back in his chair and regarded her in amazement. "I'll be damned," he remarked softly.
"I was afraid to go to Jim Navell myself," Penny went on. "I thought the murderer might come after me when he found out who I was and that I could testify against him. Maybe it was foolish of me, but..."
"Nonsense," Alfred Higdon said, staring at her as if he had scarcely known her before. "You have a right to be concerned. You want me to handle this for you?"
"Would you, Mr; Higdon?" she asked eagerly. "Could it be done so that my name won't come out? I mean, not until they catch the man? Mr. Navell will want to talk to me, I suppose, but maybe I could meet him privately some place."
The lawyer got up and moved around his desk. He placed a comforting hand on Penny's shoulders. "Don't worry. You leave it all to me."
"Thank you, Mr. Higdon." Penny looked up at him gratefully. "I appreciate this very much."
He reached for his hat. "Don't give it a thought. I'll see Jim Navell right now. Why don't you hang around here for a few minutes, in case Jim wants to come directly over and have a talk with you. He probably will."
"All right," Penny said.
"The fact he comes here won't mean anything to anyone in town. It could be one of my clients he's coming to see."
Penny wondered if she had done the right thing in confiding in Mr. Higdon. She really had no one else to turn to, no mature person in whose advice she had confidence except him. At lunch, other girls her own age were always talking about their middle-aged bosses. How they were always being invited out for drinks and a motel screw on the sly, or how they had to fight off hump-advances in private offices. But Mr. Higdon had never been like that, had never made the slightest pass at her. Instead, he had shown a warm paternal interest in her, and not having her own father, Penny felt grateful to Mr. Higdon.
She sat down at her machine and started to work on her correspondence backlog. She wanted to keep busy, to keep herself from re-Irving the nightmarish scene of last night.
Chapter Six
Russ and Diane were naked in bed in Diane's room in the time it took them to zip off their bathing suits.
Diane had a lithe body with firm luscious breasts and a solid seductive pair of asscheeks. She began to kiss and tongue Russ' chest as if she hadn't seen a naked man in five years. Diane's lips were so warm they actually left little brands of pleasure as she expertly kissed her way across his torso. Her hands caressed his rousing prick lightly as she kissed his flat hard stomach. Diane mouthed his navel and roamed downwards. Suddenly Diane moved her head and he felt his throbbing, pulsating cock-head enveloped by her warm sensuous lips and mouth.
It was good, too good a blow-job and would make him shoot his load to fast... Diane was running away with things. Russ put his hands in her hair and reluctantly drew her mouth away from his pecker saying. "Since this isn't an afternoon trick for dough Diane baby, let's take it easy and enjoy each other's body, huh?"
So he leaned over her, with a hand on each of her cute tits, and let her reddish nipples protrude between his first and second fingers. He brought the fingers tightly together, squeezing her tits hard, and raised his hands at the same time, pulling the tough nubs up toward him.
"Yes, oh yes," the girl said between clenched teeth. "Do that harder. More!"
He did, harder. And he also rolled her rubbery nipples between his fingers. After he had tired of that particular game, he grasped each with a forefinger and thumb and plucked for awhile.
"Oh, hell!" Diane said. "You really go at them, don't you? They're never been so damned tingly! Mmm ... you could drive me crazy just playing with my tits!"
"No sooner said than done," Russ murmured as he lowered his face to her firm knockers which stood in striking white contrast to the deep tan above and below them.
He let a round nub slip against his lips and as he squeezed it Diane moaned. Then he let the nipple pop out as he compressed his lips more tightly and raised his face at the same time. He took it and popped it again. He did this over and over. He teased her nipples by moving the edges of his teeth across them. He flicked his tongue at them.
All the while Diane caressed his stiff dong. She had amazingly expert hands. They stimulated his cock and balls without bringing him along too fast now that she knew what he wanted.
Russ lifted his face from her after a time and squeezed her breasts with his fingers. They had very little give. Though Russ enjoyed soft, lush tits as well as the next man, it was good to get hold of a pair as firm as these every once in awhile.
"They're going to pop, honey!" the girl cried out. "Oh, they've just never hurt so good!"
Russ bent his mouth to her once more, this time letting it roam along the flat plain of her middle. Then trailed his kisses downward. All the while she continued caressing him with her hands.
He began to get more demanding, his fingers running along her legs as his mouth teased her. Then he suddenly pressed one of his hands against her hot cuntlips Diane cried out, thrusting herself up.
Russ decided it was time to put his cock in right now.
"Oh, yes!" Diane said. "Rock me, big man! Really give my pussy a blast with that big pecker of yours!
In the grip of the special kind of exultation which comes over a man as he shoves his cock into a new cunt for the very first time, Russ didn't hear the door of the room open. He realized later, however, that Diane's so-called 'business acquaintance' must have entered the room at about that time.
Russ thrust his prick completely in-up to his very balls, viciously with a cry of triumph.
Diane wailed sharply, and he knew he'd hurt her. But he also knew she'd wanted him to treat her just that way. He began frigging his dong in and out of her cunt and the woman cried out again.
"Hurt?" he gasped, really concerned for her.
"No, just fine!" she exclaimed.
He began fucking faster. Diane moaned. Now there was less resistance, her twat was slippery with her cunt-juices.
He was fucking her, thoroughly, deriving every bit of voluptuous pleasure for himself.
He ran his hands beneath her slim body to grasp her asscheeks.
"Oh, darling, angel lover," she chanted. "Mm ... Oh, hit me... fuck me... drive me out of my head!"
Russ couldn't remember when he'd shoved his cock into such a wildcat. She was clawing savagely. Her arms were squeezing him.
Her head tossed from side to side, her mouth contorting, her eyes trying to bug out. He upped the hump-tempo.
She let out a ragged cry. He released her and then began to match the fury of her cunt's wild rhythm, although he had a long way to go.
Soon she lifted her ass and he could feel her cunt begin to writhe and twitch as she "came" convulsively. Her eyes were jammed tightly closed, her mouth wide open and gasping. After a frantic few moments, she went limp.
Russ kept thrusting his prick in and out of her cunt, but Diane pushed against his chest. Taking him by surprise, she had pushed him away.
"What the hell!" he exclaimed, ready to start fighting her.
"Let me turn over," she gasped. "You can finish that way."
He'd never had a woman act like this before, but he was willing. He leaned back. She reached behind her to help him guide his stiff dick into her tight asshole.
"Damn," Russ said aloud. Then he moved forward, his cock going completely up her rectum.
She shrieked, she howled.
He began frigging her shit-hole in short steps. She continued to cry and he fucked her anus faster and faster.
A rattling cry escaped his lips as the rubbery tightness of her asshole brought him close to coming.
Then, suddenly, the universe exploded, and he shot his load up her anus in a spurting stream of hot scum.
He rolled away and looked at his shit and sperm-covered cock.
And that was when he saw the man seated in the chair near the foot of the bed-the bald bespectacled man who'd been with Diane at the pool. Behind his glasses, the louse's eyes were bulging like those of a fish, and his mouth was open.
As Russ began to lunge off the bed toward him, Diane threw herself across him, again taking him by surprise and knocking him flat on his back on the bed.
She stayed at him, holding his arms, as she pleaded intently, "Don't touch him. This is why I brought you here. If you start trouble, it will be bad for you. He's my husband."
Russ lay dumbfounded trying to grasp what had happened. Tears gleamed on Diane's cheeks and her eyes were wild and red. She had really suffered from his huge prick reaming out her asshole, there could have been no doubt about that.
"He can't satisfy my cunt-desires." Diane said, speaking rapidly. "He lets me pick up men as long as I let him watch and I finish the way we did. The first part was for me-really good. You didn't mind too much shoving it up my asshole? Did you?"
Russ felt like a well-wrung dish rag, physically and mentally.
Diane straightened up and slipped off the bed to stand beside it. Her husband had now risen from his chair. He was wearing a thick terry cloth robe.
"No hard feelings," the bald man said, forcing a smile. "This way we're all happy. Right?"
Russ didn't know whether to lunge at the other man and batter him senseless with his fists or just to lie there and laugh at what had suddenly struck him as a brutally grim joke.
Actually he did neither.
He remained quiet for a while, as the rage he had first felt slowly dissolved in his recognition of the situation's irony. Then he stood up and pulled on his swimming trunks.
"It was a ball," he remarked sarcastically to the couple who were watching him. He walked toward the door.
"Don't run off," Diane said as he was to reach for the knob. There was an urgent note in her voice.
When he turned and looked at her, Russ saw a similar quality in her eyes. Whether it sprang from a desperate need for understanding, a fear of being alone with the man whom her cunt and asshole had just served so strangely, or actual desire for Russ, he didn't know. The woman was not well. That much was clear. He imagined that, in her way, she was as sexually sick as the man who shared the room with her-husband or whoever he was.
Diane forced a smile and made a slight gesture with her hand. "We could all have a drink, couldn't we?"
On an impulse, Russ said, "You and I could." He glanced at the other man. 'This rat better clear out, though."
"The guy with the glasses laughed. "Now, wait a minute."
Russ took a couple of steps toward him. "Do you know what I could to you with my fists if I wanted to?"
The bald man blinked behind his glasses.
Diane looked from one to the other, then said to Russ. ""I'll go to your place." She bent and picked up the two pieces of her swimming outfit.
When she had donned the suit, she and Russ left her husband standing speechless in the center of the room.
Russ didn't say anything until they had reached his room, closed the door, and he had poured a couple of shots of bourbon from the bottle he carried in his luggage. He made a slight motion with his glass, downed its contents, and poured himself some more. Then he sat opposite the girl.
"Why do you do it?" he asked her. They were merely looking at one another, holding their drinks but not using them.
Diane broke the eye-contact and looked down. "It's a way to live. Not a good one, I guess, but a way. Henry makes good money. He's chief accountant for a large New York outfit. We have a nice apartment, clothes, just about everything. On weekends we come to places like this - sometimes Atlantic City or even Miami. Henry never forces me to pick up men, but he makes the opportunities-gives me the exposure, you might say. When I finally weaken and get myself laid, it has to end the way it did a little while ago."
"You could refuse," Russ told her, wanting very much to figure her out - to understand. "You're a free human being, not a chattel. You don't have to do what he says. Since he can't satisfy you, you have every .right in the world to have your own friends, and if Henry doesn't like it that's tough shit. If the two of you can't live that way, you can leave him. To me, money wouldn't be worth having to fuck the queer way you do."
"Maybe I'm afraid to be on my own," Diane said, still looking down. "Maybe I need Henry in a way." She rubbed a hand across her forehead. "I don't know," she added wearily. She downed her drink in a single swallow. Russ stared at her.
She extended her empty glass to him. "Please?"
He took it and gave her a refill.
"You and I," Russ said. "It was a great screw up to that point wasn't it? You told me my cock was good for you, and your pussy sure as hell was fine for me."
Diane nodded and said nothing. Her eyes were downcast again and she was holding her drink in a hand that was trembling.
"Sex could be like that for you all the time with the right guy," he went on. "Not me. Somebody steady. You could have a real life for yourself."
"But I told you," she said. 'There's something between Henry and me. I can't explain it exactly. Maybe I don't want to admit to myself just what it is, I don't know. We just have to have one another."
"But you don't have one another. That's just the point."
"We do in a way you don't understand. Not physical. It's a different kind of need." Diane downed her second drink just as she had taken the first, without flinching or reacting in any way to the harshness of the straight liquor. She stared straight ahead of her at nothing. 'The only way I'll ever get out of it is like that woman they found on the road last night."
"What woman?" Russ asked as he lifted his glass for a Diane focused her eyes on him. 'The one they found dead. Murdered. Some guy drove up a side road just outside of town, hauled her out of his car, strangled her, and drove away. That's what the evidence shows according to what I've heard. Nobody saw the man or the car, I guess."
"And it happened last night?"
Diane nodded. "Funny you hadn't heard about it."
"I just arrived in town."
"Oh." She looked down once more. "Well, anyway, that's how I'll probably end some day. It won't happen just like that; it will probably be in bed and the job will be done by some prick-pusher I pick up or by Henry himself when he's drunk and mean. But, I'll be just as dead as that woman, whoever she was."
"Don't talk that way," Russ told her. She laughed sourly. "Want another drink?" he asked. She said, "No. It doesn't really help." "Anything else I can do?" Russ felt very sorry for her. He didn't know why he should, but he had no control over the emotion.
She looked directly at him. "Yes. Yes, there is something." He waited for her to tell him. "You can fuck me again. Straight. The way we did it first." She got up and walked over in front of his chair, "I like you, Russ. I really do. Make me feel good again.
Please."
Russ looked at her. "How do I know that guy you're married to won't bust in on us like he did before? If that happened, I might kill him this time. Then the yokels around here will have two murders on their hands." "Don't worry. Henry will leave us alone. He's had what he wanted. He saw me get fucked up my asshole by another man. He'll be good now for several days. Hell treat me like a queen until he's ready to make me get it up the rectum again."
"Maybe that's the key," Russ said, still having made no move toward her. "Maybe you like to suffer."
"Maybe I do, mister," She looked down at him intently. "But not now. Now I want to have a good time.
He tossed off the rest of the bourbon in his glass, set it down on the rug, and reached for her.
He stripped the pants of her bathing suit down, tugging the rubberized cloth past her knees, and all the way. She supported herself with a hand on his shoulders as she stepped free of the garment.
He didn't take advantage of their position to kiss her body as he might ordinarily have done. Instead, he rose to his feet and removed the top of her suit.
She turned and walked naked to the bed, her very pert asscheeks twisting.
Russ stripped off his trunks and joined her on the bed.
They embraced loosely. They didn't kiss, Russ began to run his fingers over her tits and she showed immediate signs of response. She caressed him as well.
Her tongue and lips roamed Russ' body hungrily. Panting with desire, Diane lifted a leg, and with a quick roll of her body, saddled Russ' loins. Her curved belly and satiny asscheeks began a tantalizing grind against him. Russ liked the switch, it felt real good. Caressing gently, Diane reached for his already stiff prick and quickly enfolded his cock with her cuntlips and started fucking his prick with a furious piston-like rhythm. She undulated above him as her asscheeks worked in passionate frenzy.
Russ suddenly stiffened beneath her as pleasure surged through his cock, he shot a hot load of semen into her vagina. She screamed, "You're all man, Russ. Oh, Russ, this cock of yours is so good, the most, the most!"
He cradled her above him for long moments until his prick finally became completely limp. Russ found himself feeling sorry for Diane. Too bad a nice, good looking broad like this had to be tied down to a queer of a husband.
Chapter Seven
Penny was a normal girl, with healthy yearnings for the attention of the opposite sex. Although she had a date with Jack Brooks this evening, she didn't look forward to it. Her dates with Jack were kind of dull even under the best of circumstances and tonight she was especially tired and irritable.
Mr. Higdon had brought Sheriff Jim Navell into see her in the office. He was a big pleasant man who had let her tell her story of the night before in her own way. But later he had brought in some investigators from the county district attorney's office, and they had probed and poked at her with questions the rest of the afternoon. After really putting her through the wringer, they cautioned her not to talk to any one and not to leave the county.
When she arrived home, her mother burdened her with the details of her high blood pressure and arthritis which had made it impossible to do anything around the house that day. Ordinarily Penny was sympathetic, but tonight she said sharply, "Oh, ma, I've got troubles of my own tonight. Leave me be!"
After dinner she'd had to rush her bath and the process of getting dressed. But she had managed to get ready before Jack arrived to pick her up. She always tried very hard to be ready on time. She didn't like Jack and her mother to be alone together.
Her mother disliked Jack, seeing him as a threat to her own security. After all, wasn't he going to take her daughter away from her and leave her all by herself in the world?
It wasn't that Penny was particularly concerned for Jack's feelings, but she didn't like to endure his complaints about the way her mother had spoken to him. He would sulk on such occasions, and this merely tended to aggravate an already bad situation.
Some day soon, Penny told herself, she would have to change things. But she didn't know how she could do it. Her mother needed her, and Penny couldn't walk out. As long as she remained in town, she couldn't very well avoid Jack. It was a small town and everyone knew about them.
The situation seemed hopeless to her.
Still, she knew that she would have to do something about it. Something. She had no idea what it would be.
Jack took her to the local movie. A light comedy was showing, but Penny didn't enjoy it.
Afterward, they had hamburgers and coffee, and then Jack drove a little ways out of town and parked. He insisted on ending each date that way, whether Penny was in the mood or not. He'd never even solicited an expression from her on the subject, but had always just assumed that she enjoyed the kissing and petting as much as he did.
That's all it ever amounted to. He would kiss her and touch her breasts - though her clothing, of course - and perhaps if he was in a particularly bold mood he would run his fingers a short distance over her legs.
He didn't believe in going all the way before marriage.
Penny guessed he assumed her to be a virgin and had taken it for granted that she too believed premarital screwing was wrong. Well, she did, generally speaking. But there were times she hungered for a man's cock. She even hungered for Jack's cock when he started caressing her.
She knew he would be shocked if she should ever try to bring up the subject of actually screwing with him, and so she had never done so. She had always let him just kiss and pet her, then stop, and she had frequently paid for it by spending a sleepless night afterward, with a cunt-itch she ended up satisfying by masturbating.
The only solution had seemed to be marriage. Jack wanted to get married right away, but she had been putting him off. The truth was that she really didn't want to many him at all.
That night, as soon as they parked, he slipped his arm around her.
Jack Brooks was round-faced, not tall, and inclined to be a little plump. He dressed very neatly and his brown hair was always precisely combed. He was twenty-five years of age, which made him five years older than Penny.
The events of the day and the night before had cast Penny in a mood which bordered on desperation. She was troubled not only about the murder case but about every aspect of her life. She felt as if she were in some sort of cage from which she had to break out. Now the walls of the cage seemed to be closing in on her.
"You're quiet tonight," Jack said. "I don't think you enjoyed the movie much."
"It was all right," Penny said dully.
He drew her close to him. "I think I know what you need."
He had no idea what she needed, Penny thought. If she were to tell him that she'd like some hot cock, it would shock him right out of his neatly creased pants.
No. On second thought, she doubted if anything could do that.
Or could it?
Her mind suddenly began to work along a different line: Maybe that was the answer to her problem, or at least part of it. Maybe she should force the issue with him. Maybe a good shock was all he needed to begin treating her like the grown woman she was, instead of like a child.
On the other hand, maybe it would break them up.
Well, would that be bad? If Jack were the one to do it himself, there'd be no kick-back, would there? It would be easier for her that way. Let him think she wasn't the kind of girl he wanted to marry and he'd leave her alone. If he did try to make up, she could just stand firm. The break would already have happened and that would be that.
But did she have the nerve to behave with him in this manner?
Perhaps, after all, it would be easier to tell him they were through. But no. He wouldn't take that for an answer. He'd have to know why and she couldn't just come out and say she didn't love him and didn't want him hanging around. Not after they'd been going together as long as they had. It would be so messy.
The other way would be better.
And if he didn't let himself get scared off-her cunt-frustration would at least be eased. Penny steeled herself.
Jack leaned toward her, his mouth coming down to hers. She felt the familiar pressure of his lips-the soft pressure that she was used to. He had never kissed her the way Ritchie Craig used to do. She'd never felt that kind of sex-hunger in him. But it was in her.
Jack's lips were barely parted as he held them against hers. In the past, she also had kept her mouth nearly closed when they kissed. Now, however, acting on the spur of the impulse which had taken possession of her, she opened her mouth wider.
The man didn't respond right away and, as a consequence, his lips were now almost entirely between hers. She felt a slight tremor in them but that was all.
She would show him, she thought wildly. She extended her tongue. It touched his lips and the pressure of them, light as it was, suddenly slackened. As she pressed her tongue against his lips, Jack broke the kiss and straightened up.
"Penny!" he said. He was shocked already.
What sort of man was he anyway? She wondered, anger beginning to assert itself now. The determination to go through with her plan hardened.
Jack suddenly smiled to cover his confusion. "What's gotten into you tonight?" It was evident that he was trying to be understanding. He was not condemning her - not yet - but he was now showing any inclination to go along with what she had in mind, either.
"I don't know what you mean," she said mildly and looked away.
"You're having fun with me, is that it?" he asked.
Fun! she thought. She'd show him some fun before she was through.
She turned to him. "Haven't you ever wanted to kiss me that way, Jack?" She was exerting an effort to make her tone light and pleasant, though this certainly wasn't in keeping with the way she felt.
"Well, I don't know," he said, then added, "I guess so. But it's kind of dangerous, isn't it?"
She laughed slightly.
He tightened his arm around her shoulders and spoke closer to her ear: "You just want to see what it's like ... is that it?"
"Yes. Why not?"
"Okay," he said, a slight huskiness evident in his voice.
Penny was mildly surprised. He seemed to be coming along.
Their lips joined again, his mouth more open than before. She waited for his tongue. When it didn't immediately appear, Penny offered her own tongue again, skis time to the hard ridges of his teeth, and on until it found the tongue she seeked.
Their tongues flicked together a few times. Then Penny moved hers away. She waited as their lips remained locked together. Jack was holding her more tightly than usual and the pressure of his kiss seemed to reveal a slightly increased fervor.
In a moment she felt his tongue venture forth. It touched, her lips lightly at first, then came to her mouth, passing her teeth and making contact with her tongue. Their tongues curled together in a real French soul-kiss.
Jack broke the kiss and fell back gasping. "Hey, baby, this is going to lead to things if we don't watch out."
"And would that be so bad?" Penny inquired boldly.
Jack stared at her. His face had become flushed and he was breathing hard. "What is it, Penny?" he asked in a tone of genuine concern. "Maybe you'd better tell me about it."
"Oh, Jack, for heaven's sake!" Her aggravation with him began to show.
"Well, how do you expect me to react?" he asked defensively.
That provided her too good an opening to turn down. She blurted, "Like a man, for a change. Is that expecting too much?"
He seemed to shrink. "What do you mean?"
"I want you to show how you really feel toward me."
"But, Penny, you know I love you. I want too marry you. I want to marry you right away. I've told you that over and over."
"But you don't act like you love me sometimes-like you really love me, I mean. How can I know?"
"You mean, just because I don't kiss you like that?" he demanded incredulously.
"Not only that," she said, exasperation rising within her.
"Well, what then?"
The restraint she had been exercising gave way. "Just everything. All you seem to want to do is kiss like a school boy and stroke the outside of my clothes. You're much too timid. Jack, is that all you want from me?"
He seemed dumbfounded by what she'd said. "But we have to be careful," he replied weakly. "You know that as well as I do. I never thought it was necessary to discuss it. If a guy and girl fool around too much, it leads to things and..."
"For heaven's sake, will you start talking straight, at least?" Penny demanded. "I'm not a baby any more. Leads to things!" she mocked. "What you mean is that it might make you so excited that you'd fuck me, isn't that right?"
"Penny!"
"Well, that's what you did mean, isn't it?"
"Yes, I suppose it is." He was still staring at her.
"Would it make you that excited if you were to touch my bare breasts?"
"Yes!" he snapped, his manner suddenly changing. "Damn it, I've wanted to really lay you for two years now - ever since we met. Why do you think I'm so anxious for us to get married? Why do you think I don't want to wait any longer? I'm fresh and blood, Penny, and I'm crazy about you. But we both know it isn't right to fuck until we're married, so I've always tried to control myself. I think I've been pretty good about it, too."
"Have you really!" she said. Her voice had the cutting edge of a knife.
Jack too his arm away from her. "Just what is it you want, Penny?"
Now that she had broken through the wall of reserve which had existed between them, Penny found it surprisingly easy to go on. She was, as a matter of fact, deriving a strange sort of pleasure from it. She said: "I'm tired of being treated like a child. I'm a woman, Jack, and I want to be desired the way a woman is desired. "Also, I want to know that it's a real man I'm engaged to."
"I don't understand," Jack said finally. "I'm frank to admit that I just don't understand you at all. You're a good fad: I know that. I'm sure you don't want to do anything wrong."
"What would be wrong about it?" Penny demanded.
"We're engaged, aren't we?" "But you're ... you're a virgin and ..."
"You don't know that I am cherry!" she shot back. "Why don't you find out?"
There! she thought. It was finally out. She'd flung the challenge in his face. Now it was up to him.
He shrank back against the car seat. "Penny," he said. He seemed completely dismayed.
"Well?" she taunted.
He straightened up and faced her. "All right, by damn! All right! If that's what you want!"
He then demonstrated a hump-desire that Penny hadn't realized he possessed. His mouth came to hers voraciously, open and frantic, forcing her head back against the top of the car seat.
As he plunged his tongue to her mouth, his hands landed on the outer slopes of her legs, just above her knees where her skirt ended. While they kissed, both hands were flat against her sleek nylons; his hands scooted higher.
Jack wasn't caressing her now as he'd done before-gently stroking her stocking legs. Now his hands were pressing avidly and they seemed headed for a definite destination-her cunt!
His hands slid past her stocking-tops as his tongue continued to explore her mouth, her own tongue prodding against it. He was clutching the firm bare flesh of her legs now, his palms sliding along her garter straps.
Excitement welled within Penny, making her head light. Oh damn was he really going to fuck her-would it really happen - after so long?
She didn't love Jack Brooks. She didn't particularly want his cock. But he was a man. And she needed a man, especially now. At the very least, this would be better than the way things had been.
Now his hands were on her panties, at each side, where they sheathed the warm curves of her hips. The panties she wore that night were made of very sheer nylon, tissue thin, and she felt the man's hands almost as if they had been on her bare hips. The way he was going to her, they would be on her bare ass in a moment, she felt certain. She raised herself slightly to relieve the constriction of her snugly fitted skirt and slip, and this also had the effect of terminating their kiss.
Penny looked down as her skirt and slip slid upward before the pressure of Jack's advancing hands. Now her clothing was at her lap and her bare thighs exposed. She scooted farther forward on the seat so that Jack could gain access to the top of her panties if he wanted to.
But he didn't proceed that far. He moved both hands around her front to the nylon softness of her waist. He stroked her there with his open hands, and then one of them moved to the tight elastic leg-band at her left side. Penny moaned as his questing hand went underneath the barrier.
"Ooh, God!" she exclaimed.
"You like that, huh?" Jack husked. "You really like that! That's what you've wanted, isn't it?"
"Yes ... yesssss ..." she hissed through clenched teeth.
With one hand he continued to massage her waist while the other touched her moist cuntlips in a way that made her senses reel. Yes, this was what she wanted! This was what her twat had needed for so long!
Now if only he doesn't stop, she thought. If only he goes ahead all the way with his prick!
Jack pulled his hand away and moved it down the soft inner slope of her left leg, at the same time sliding his other hand along her right one. It was shameless of her to posture herself like that, she knew, but she didn't care. She didn't care about anything except what Jack was doing. His hands stroked along the satin smoothness covering her bush and cuntlips until she thought she would go out of her mind. Then abruptly he pulled them away.
But he had his hands around to her back, she leaned forward away from the seat to help him. He groped for her zipper.
"I've always wanted to get hold of your bare tits!" Jack exclaimed with a crudeness that surprised her. "Well, now I'm going to do that! I'm going to get those two big knockers of yours in my hands and I'm going to squeeze the living daylights right out of them!
"Yes ... yes," she said, eager to have him do everything to her. "Squeeze them and pinch them and kiss them, honey. They're all yours!"
He had lowered the top of her dress and was now struggling with the hooks on her white bra. Finally he had them, and the bra opened. He drew its delicate ribbons off her shoulders and down her arms. She helped as he pulled both dress and bra free of her arms and left them bunched on her lap.
Penny's large thrusting tits gleamed soft and white in the moonlight, the prominent nipples and wide surrounding circles forming a candy-pink contrast. Jack looked at them for just a moment and then reached to take one in each his hands. They filled his palms and he squeezed them like ripe luscious fruits.
"Damn!" he grated. They're even better than I thought!"
"They're all for you, lover," Penny moaned, arching her back and closing her eyes so that she would be aware of nothing but the delicious sensation of his grasping hands.
Her breasts began to throb as he worked on them and she could feel her nipples rising against his palms.
"Oh, honey," she said.
Jack took a nipple between the forefinger and thumb of each hand. He stroked and rolled them. The pink tips quickly hardened and erected.
Penny had big nipples. Proud nipples. Nipples which were ideally suited to their natural function. But they were also ideally suited to excite a man.
Jack went to the fullness of her two breasts again, now that her nipples were standing out as tall and firm as they could possibly get, and he lifted the satiny tits in his open hands. He shook them lightly up and down, watching the stiff nipples dance and the surface of her breasts do a delightful shimmy.
He took a football hold on each breast, squeezing their swollen nipples toward him in the space between his thumbs and index fingers.
He bent his face to a high-standing nipple. He took it to his lips, pulling like a baby. The warmth was maddening.
Then suddenly he took the warmth away and she felt slighted. But only for a moment, because he quickly took her other nipple as he had done its twin.
God, that's wonderful, Penny thought. Sweet horny desire for his cock roiled her, suffusing her body with warmth and making her head light.
I hope he's going to fuck me-really fuck me, she told herself. He has to! He simply has to! I won't be able to stand it if he stops! I'll rape him!
But no such extreme measure proved necessary for Jack was now ready to give her the stiff prick her cunt desired. He left her tits and lowered his hands to her legs once more, this time to grasp her skirt and slip and haul them all the way to her waist. She raised from the seat to help him. Her thin white panties remained as the only barrier to his cock.
"Pull them off, darling," Penny said, the term of endearment for Jack coming easily to her for the first time. "Make me all nude, lover."
He reached for her panties, then stopped.
"Let's get into the back seat first," he said, leaning away from her.
"All right," Penny responded and opened the car door beside her.
The place where they'd parked was completely deserted, so she didn't hesitate to step outside with her bare breasts and jouncing whitely in the moonlight. Her bra dropped from her lap to the ground and she bent to pick it up, her full breasts hanging downward and swaying. Then she lowered her half-slip. She placed both of these garments on the front seat of the car, as well. That left her in sheer hose, garter belt, and panties.
Jack had stepped out of the car on his side and had quickly discarded his coat. He was now stepping out of his trousers. He folded them quickly and placed them on the seat.
Both Penny and Jack climbed into the back of the car, entering from opposite sides. He was still wearing his shirt, tie, and shorts.
He bent and kissed her breasts some more, and then he stroked the softness of her legs. He planted a kiss on the birthmark of her right leg.
Penny gasped, hardly able to wait for the stiff prick she now knew he was going to shove up her cunt. "Take my panties off, Jack," she said. "Pull them right off me!
He took a firm hold of the elastic at the top of her panties and began to pull. Penny's panties bunched in his hands as he slid them out from under her. She lowered herself to the seat again as he drew the panties down, past her knees and down her calves. He carefully stretched each leg-elastic to remove them from her feet, then he dropped them on the carpeted floor of the car. He removed her shoes.
Now she was naked except for her garter belt and stockings. Those garments offered no obstruction, the garter belt actually serving as a frame to dramatize the loveliness of her thick bush and moist cuntlips while the hose highlighted the lushness of her legs.
It took but a moment for Jack to adjust his shorts so that they were no barrier, either. He moved forward, and thrust his cock into her eager twat.
"Oh, darling, I want you so!" Penny exclaimed, holding his face between her hands as she felt his prick ramming into her vagina.
"I guess you do!" he said with a rather sharp emphasis.
Penny had no time or desire to worry about the peculiarity of his tone, for the man was even then frigging her. A guttural cry escaped his throat, then he began a delicious rhythm, thrusting his dong into her cunt up to the hilt.
Penny whimpered sharply, and grasped him with her arms. She pulled against his ass wanting even more of his cock up her pussy.
Oh, this big dick of his was what she needed! It had been so very long. She then would have consented to marry him that very night, if he'd insisted on it.
But at the moment Jack had no need for questions. He had the hot cunt that any man could want.
Did anything else in the world matter - even marriage - when a man was with a luscious girl whose tits bobbled and shook from the force of their fucking, her high hard nipples nodding.
Increased excitement gripped Jack and he began to screw faster. Fulfillment beckoned both of the, extending its long arms to draw them toward the peak.
There was not far to go.
Penny released a succession of gasping little sounds that meant nothing and, at the same time, meant everything in the world. She was almost there. She was reaching ...
Now! Her cunt writhed and twitched convulsively as she "came."
She cried out ... She saw a brilliant burst of stars, she felt Jack's hot, creamy scum belting into her cunt ... Then that was over. She lapsed back, all tension gone from her.
Jack straightened up and drew his limp, sperm-covered cock from her vagina.
He glared down at her. "Now, are you satisfied ... tramp?"
Penny couldn't believe what she had heard. She merely stared at him in shock and wonder.
She sat there, hardly knowing what to say or do. Her cunt felt physically satisfied for the first time in two years, but now that no longer seemed to mean anything.
Finally she drew herself to a sitting position and managed to ask, "What did you say?"
Jack didn't answer but pushed Penny's shoulders down on the seat again. He braced himself on his elbows and greedily began to kiss her firm lovely nipples again. Penny thrilled again at the touch of his warm lips and parted her thighs, her twat consumed with fresh desire. She drew Jack's throbbing stiff, throbbing pecker within her hot cunt and began an exciting, steady grind with her buttocks beneath him. He plunged into her pussy with pile-driver passion, as her thighs undulated wildly beneath him.
Jack's prick made an explosive thrust as his body shook with the joy jolts coursing through his big dong. He was shooting another load of scalding semen into her convulsing cunt. He took Penny with him into mutual orgasm as ecstatic shudders wracked her on the auto seat. They lay spent and entwined on the back seat for long moments.
Then Jack curtly said, "You can get dressed now. You got what you wanted in spades, Bimbo!"
Penny was livid with fury as the one-track mind of this utter jerk who had so misunderstood the gift of her pussy and perhaps ... even her love. She said not a word to him, but as she left the car she blazed, "I consider this very good riddance of bad rubbish! Goodnight and goodbye Mr. Brooks!"
Chapter Eight
Russ Bates was staring at the waitress's lovely tit-cleavage as she bent low before him to take his order. The diner on Main Street wasn't too crowded this morning and the waitress didn't mind lingering and even shaking her knockers a little before Russ' appreciative eyes. She was a little older than the babe he was looking for Russ thought, but he wouldn't mind checking her birthmark or her pussy either. He ordered bacon, eggs and toast, with the bacon crisp. As she turned to give his order, he heard snatches of conversation from two men sitting next to him at the counter that made him perk up.
"The mystery murder witness that Hempstead paper's talkin' about must be a client of Al Higdon's. Two detectives from the Hempstead DA. were in his office all afternoon," one of the men was saying.
Russ had been concentrating on his breakfast at first, only half-hearing the conversation going on beside him. But finally his attention had been trapped.
It must be the same murder that the woman Diane had mentioned the previous day, he thought. The town seemed to be buzzing about it.
The waitress was talking now, "According to the paper, the girl stopped her car when she saw the murderer's car standing with its lights on and a door open. She got out and walked to the side of the road, and there was this guy down in the ditch just taking his hands off the woman's throat."
"What does the paper say about the killer?" the man asked, chomping potatoes.
"Let's see... " The waitress straightened up, robbing him and (and Russ also)
of what had been an excellent view of her lush tits.
She picked up a rumpled newspaper and began to read from the front page: "The suspect was described as middle-aged and thick-set with a very mean expression on his face."
The girl looked up. "I don't wonder his expression was mean. He'd just killed somebody, for cripes sake."
She resumed reading: "It is understood that the witness did not make a note of the killer's auto license number, since he turned to pursue her as soon as he realized he'd been seen. She identified his car as a late-model Continental and noticed that its license frames bore the name of a New York dealer, but she is reported to have been unable to remember the dealer's name.
"Police in New York have been alerted and an all-points bulletin has gone out."
As he chewed his breakfast slowly, Russ began to think about what he had just overheard. His thought processes blotted out the rest of the conversation.
The killer had been a heavy set man. That was the first fact that stuck in Russ' mind. He was a heavy man who was probably well-heeled, since he drove a Continental. And he evidently lived in New York.
The witness had been a girl, and she'd been standing at the edge of the roadway looking down into the ditch where the murder had taken place. When the man had lamed and looked up at her, the girl had run. That meant that the man probably hadn't gotten a very good look at her. It had been at night. Probably all he'd seen of her were her legs, before she'd backed away and run to her car.
Damn! Russ thought. It could be! It just could be!
He left the rest of his breakfast, taking time only to gulp down his coffee before he walked to the cash register to pay his check.
When the cashier handed him his change, he asked, "Who's Alfred Higdon - a lawyer in town?"
"Yes, sir," she said. "His office is on Main Street, a little ways west of her. Right across from Miller's Hardware."
"Thanks," Russ said and walked out of the motel coffee shop.
What if the man who'd hired him to find the girl with a birthmark had been the killer? It was possible, wasn't it? If the girl witness had a birthmark on her leg, that would probably have been the only distinguishing thing about her that the guy would have noticed, assuming she'd been wearing shorts or something like that. Many of the women did wear shorts around town.
If the man Russ had met on Main Street in Lynbrook was the killer, and if the girl he'd hired Russ to find was the only witness to the lulling, it didn't take a mental giant to figure out what would happen after Russ located her (if he did) and gave her identity to the tank-set man. Her life wouldn't be worth a dime. Russ would be signing her death warrant when he made his report to the man he knew only by the code name of "Dave."
Russ had thought right from the beginning that the thick-set man's story was phony. And the guy had made a big thing out of keeping his identity a secret. Also, he'd been anxious to find the girl - anxious enough to stand still for a boost of three hundred bucks in the fee he'd originally offered to pay.
With each step, as he walked to his car, Russ became more inclined to believe that he had indeed talked with the killer and that he alone knew how to get in touch with the man. Hell, he could lead the police right to him, Rust realized. All he'd have to do would be to run the newspaper ad that the man had prescribed as a means for Russ to get in touch with him, then set up a meeting where the cops would be staked out.
But he didn't really know that the man was the killer, did he?
There would be one way to clinch the matter, he reasoned. If the unidentified witness to the murder turned out to be a girl with a birthmark on her right leg, there would no longer be any doubt.
He began to drive in the direction of Attorney Higdon's office.
Curiosity had at first impelled him to go there and see what he could find out. But now, after he had thought the matter over, he was more than just curious. He had to know about that witness. He had to find out who she was... and, somehow, he had to find out if she had a birthmark on her right leg.
Wait, an inner voice told him. Better not be hasty. Take time to think things over.
Russ slowed his car, letting it creep along the lightly traveled street which now baked in the morning sunshine. Though only nine o'clock, the temperature was already close to ninety.
The blast of a horn behind him announced the fact that a kid in a bright red Pontiac wanted to get by. Russ pulled over.
A new thought occurred to Russ. If the witness did have a birthmark, which would mean that the man who'd hired Russ was the killer, Russ might have to turn over to the police the money that the guy had paid him. Come to think of it, he probably hadn't had a legal right to take the money in the first place. He wasn't sure, but he would have bet that only a licensed detective could legally take money to help someone find a missing person.
Certainly if the man he was dealing with turned out to be the killer, and if Russ went to the police with the story, there'd be no chance of him getting the additional four hundred dollars. He'd just have to kiss that extra loot good-bye.
That thought didn't set well.
But what else could he do? Finger an innocent person to be killed?
Russ didn't want to do that, either. So where did that leave him?
All he was sure of, at that point, was that he shouldn't tip his hand right away.
It would be all right to nose around and try to learn the identity of the secret witness, if he could. Then he could try to check out the birthmark. If the witness had one, that would be time enough to decide what to do next.
Even if he'd made up his mind to go to the police - which he hadn't - he wouldn't want to do it without checking on the birthmark first. He might only make a fool out of himself... and get in trouble for taking money from the man and have to give the dough back, even though the guy wasn't the killer.
He spotted Miller's hardware store ahead of him. Across the street was a small buff-colored building with a neat wooden sign posted in front of it which read, Alfred Higdon, Attorney at Law.
Russ pulled his Chevy over to the curb and parked.
He turned off the motor and remained behind the steering wheel, drumming his fingers on the light-colored plastic.
What to do?
If he just walked into the lawyer's office and asked him who the witness was, what reason did he have to think that Higdon would tell anything? Lawyers were supposed to protect their clients, weren't they?
Russ decided he would have to approach the matter in another way.
But how?
Perhaps a neighbor-someone across the street from the lawyer's office or next door- would have noticed who it was who'd left the office yesterday after the detective had been there. It was a long shot, but it might be worth a try.
On the other hand, though, if Russ started to ask questions he might arouse suspicions. This was a murder case, and the whole town was excited over it. Also, Russ was a stranger.
What the hell could he do?
He had to find out the truth. He couldn't just go on looking for the girl with the birthmark, not knowing whether or not she was tied up with the murder.
Maybe he should drop the whole thing, he thought. He'd gotten four hundred dollars out of the deal. So if he hightailed it out of town and up north as he'd planned to do before he'd met the man, what would happen to him?
He remembered the man's threat. If the guy was a killer, Russ thought, maybe he was also in the underworld. He'd told Russ he had influence and had implied that the influence would help him locate Russ if Russ tried to run out. Russ remembered what he had read about crime syndicates. They had enforcers, didn't they? Paid assassins?
But, hell, if the man had anybody like that working for him, why would he have hired Russ to hunt for the girl in Lynnbrook? He would have put his own finger-man on the job. Russ was inclined to believe the fat man had been bluffing.
But did he really want to run out, anyway, Russ asked himself. Maybe there was a better way to play it.
He continued to mull over the matter, not coming up with any answer that would help. He was apparently involved in something damned sticky, and he didn't know what to do about it.
Of course, there was always the chance that he was excited over nothing at all. There were lots of middle-aged thick-set men in the world, and that was the only definite point of information that seemed to tie the man in New York in with the murder case. But no. There were other things, too. The witness was a girl, and the man wanted to find a girl. The man was very anxious about it, and who would be more anxious than a killer who wanted to eliminate the only witness against him? Also, the man had insisted on keeping his identity confidential.
The more Russ thought about it, the more convinced he became that there was a tie-in.
So that left him right where he had been for several minutes now. The question was: What the devil was he going to do?
He could stay where he was and keep watch on Higdon's office, just on the chance that he might spot a girl with a birth-marked leg walking in or out. But that was no good. He doubted that even in Lynnbrook women wore shorts when they called on their lawyers.
Run, something told him again. But he resisted the impulse as he had done before.
He sat in the midst of uncertainty, seemingly unable to move either way. He had a probable killer's money in his pocket, and the probable killer was waiting to hear from him. At the same time, a girl's life might lie in the balance.
Why in hell had he gotten mixed up in the thing in the first place, he wondered desperately. Of course, the four hundred dollars was the answer. Yes, and there was another four hundred to be made, if he knew how to go about it.
Then with a peculiar slowness, considering its awesome implications, a new idea trickled into his brain. He realized for the first time that there was more to be made then four hundred dollars-a lot more. If fat-boy "Dave" was a murderer, not only the birth-marked girl but Russ too, was in a position to make trouble for him. That meant it would be worth good money-big money-to the man to keep both Russ and the girl quiet.
"Yeah."
Russ pulled out a cigarette and lit it. He stared at the match for several seconds before shaking it out.
He could get burned. He could get burned badly.
But maybe there was a way...
He had to find out who the witness was, and if she had a birthmark. He had to do it right now. And the answer lay in Alfred Higdon's office.
Russ got out of his car, threw his cigarette to the concrete and stepped on it. Then he headed across the street.
Penny Williams was miserable that morning. She wouldn't even have gone to work except that, if she hadn't, it would have meant she'd have had to stay home with her mother, which would have been worse.
There was not only the awful scene she'd had with Jack Brooks - the way he had talked to her - but there was the fact that her story of the murder was all over town. The article in the Hempstead paper had included just about everything but her name. She wasn't sure how long that would be kept confidential, either. If it were up to Jim Navell, he would respect her wishes, she believed, but she wasn't sure about the two city detectives who were in charge of the case. They'd seemed much less cooperative. Penny assumed that they were the ones who'd given the newspaper the facts it had printed that morning.
Her boss was in court again. That meant she was alone, with a fresh stack of typing and a couple of ringing telephones. The word had gotten out that her boss knew the mysterious witness in the beach road murder case, and people had been calling about that in addition to normal legal affairs.
When the outer door opened, Penny looked up half expecting to see one of the detectives she'd talked with the day before, or a reporter, or some local busybody. The rugged good-looking man in slacks and sport shirt was a pleasant surprise.
"Yes, sir?" she said, finding that a smile came easier than she'd thought it would.
"Mr. Higdon in?" Russ asked as he admired the full-breasted reddish-blonde behind the desk. They sure grew them pretty in these parts, he commented to himself.
"I'm sorry, he isn't. Is there something I could do for you?"
Darned if there wasn't, Russ thought. But he said, with only an eye-sparkle to give away his true feelings, "I'm afraid not. I wanted to consult him ... ah, professionally."
"Oh, are you a client?"
"I might become one," Russ said. "I wanted to see him about having a will prepared." This had been the best pretext he could think of for striking up an acquaintance with the lawyer.
"Mr. Higdon's in court this morning," Penny said. "He may be in after lunch, if the case isn't held over."
"I see." Russ hesitated. "Man, it feels good to step into this air-conditioning. It's well on its way to a hundred degrees out there."
Penny didn't think it would go quite that high this time of the year, but she didn't say so. She merely responded. "You're welcome to sit down and cool off if you'd like."
"Thank you." Russ grinned at her and took a chair.
After returning his smile, Penny re-directed her attention to her typewriter.
Russ didn't let her get started. "That murder the other night - everybody around here is sure hipped on it, aren't they?"
Penny looked at him quickly. A slight prickle of fear touched the back of her neck.
Russ grinned again. "I understand your boss is mixed up in the thing." He added quickly, "Representing a witness, I mean."
"Yes, he is."
"Who is it, anyway?" Russ asked in a casual tone. "Do you know?"
Maybe he is a detective, Penny thought, or maybe.... Fear gripped her as she considered the possibility that Russ had been sent by the heavy-set man.
She tried to keep the fear out of her voice and only half-succeeded: "I don't know who it is."
Russ had caught what he considered a strange note in her answer. He decided to pursue the point with her. "I'll bet you're curious, aren't you?"
She busied herself adjusting the paper in her typewriter. "I suppose so."
"Were you here yesterday when the detectives were questioning the girl?"
Penny looked at him, the concern in her eyes all-too-obvious. "Are you - working on the case?"
Russ shook his head. "I told you-I just came in to have a will prepared."
He was wondering about her reaction to his questions. She seemed edgy. He would have but she knew who the witness was, all right, and that he had warned her against talking to anyone.
Now that he had gone this for, Russ didn't want to quit. If he could find out from Higdon's secretary what he wanted to know, he wouldn't have to talk with die lawyer at all, and that would be so much the better.
Penny was looking over her shorthand notes, her eyes carefully avoiding his.
Russ decided to be bold, in the hope of breaking through the girl's defense. He said. "I know something about that case myself. If I could get in touch with the witness, we might be able to help one another."
Penny stared. "Wh-what do you mean?"
"I wouldn't want to talk with anyone but her," he said firmly.
Penny continued to look at him, fear crouching in her eyes. Her lips were slightly parted. "Maybe ... that is, Mr. Higdon might be able to arrange it if you spoke with him."
Russ held her gaze levelly. "Why should I talk with Higdon when you can tell me who the witness is?"
"But I can't. I..."
"Come on now." He grinned. "When do you have your break? Maybe we could get a cup of coffee or something and talk about it. Away from the office, there'd be no reason why you couldn't speak frankly."
"Just what do you want?" Penny demanded, her voice quavering.
"I want to meet that girl."
"Why?"
"So we can compare notes about something."
"You mean, Penny said, "That you saw the murderer, too?"
"Maybe."
She continued to stare.
As his gaze remained locked with hers, Russ wondered why the lawyer's secretary should be so concerned - so fearful. There was no doubt that fear was what he read in her eyes. The witness was just a client, wasn't she? Why would it make any difference to this girl?
And then a wild thought struck him: Suppose the witness wasn't a client, at all. Suppose it was the girl he was looking at right now.
She was young. He glanced at her legs, which were only partially visible from where he sat. They were tanned, all right. Of course, that didn't really mean anything in itself, but she could very well be the one.
"Who are you working for?" Penny asked.
"Myself."
She continued to look at him and didn't say anything.
"That girl, whoever she is, is in trouble," Russ remarked, seeking to draw a further reaction. "I can help her. If she and I were to get together, we could do ourselves some good."
"You said that before," Penny replied. "Just what do you mean?"
Russ smiled. "I also said before that I wouldn't talk with anyone but the witness."
"If you know anything about the case," Penny said slowly, "you ought to go to the sheriffs office."
"I thought of that," Russ admitted. "But, then, I was afraid."
"Afraid?"
"That man-the killer-he's a bad one to cross."
"You know him?" Penny demanded.
"I can't say any more except to the girl. You'd be doing her a favor by telling me who she is."
"I just don't..." The sentence died out. Penny's lips quivered.
"It's you, isn't it?" Russ said boldly.
"No!"
"Let me ask you something," he went on, "and then you can decide whether or not you ought to level with me. Do you have a strawberry birthmark on the outside of your right leg?"
"What?" She almost strangled on the word, as if the man's hands were even then around her throat. How would this man know about the birthmark unless he ...
"You have one, haven't you?" Russ said. He felt new confidence now.
"What difference does that... I mean..."
"The killer saw it. He doesn't know who you are, but he knows about the birthmark. He hired me to find you."
Penny stared, frozen, her lips parted but unable to utter a sound.
Russ stood up. "I guess my job is done, huh? All I have to do is report back to him and collect the rest of the money he promised me."
"Wait!" Penny said. "You're mistaken. I don't have any birthmark."
Russ grinned. "Show me."
"I can't do that," she said.
He told her, "I think you're the one." He walked toward the door, feeling her eyes all but burning holes in his back. He stopped and slowly turned to face her again. "The devil of it is, I don't want to go through with the deal. I had no idea when I took the job that there was a murder involved-that the man wanted to find you so that he could, well, eliminate you as a witness."
Penny gasped, her hand rising to her mouth.
"But I have some money at stake," Russ went on. "If I don't report back to him, I'll lose it." Then he paused thoughtfully. "Of course, there is another way."
"What... other way?" Penny's voice was hoarse with tension.
"You and I could work a little deal." Russ studied her. "This guy is loaded. He'll pay for silence."
Penny continued to stare at the man for several moments, and then in panic her hand reached for the telephone. "I'm going to call the sheriffs office," she announced.
Russ grinned. "And tell them what?"
"Just what you said. That you're working for the murderer and..."
"There's no proof of that. The cops can question me from here on out and they'll never come up with anything. In a day or so they'll have to turn me loose. When they do, I can still put a call through to the man."
"You fiend," Penny said softly, holding the telephone receiver in a trembling hand.
"I'm nothing like that," Russ said. "If I were, I'd have never suggested we make a deal. Why don't you think it over before you do anything rash? I'll hang around for a while and get in touch with you later."
"But I don't understand," Penny said desperately. "What are you after?"
"Money," Russ told her. "Lots of money. For both of us. There'll be enough money to take you out of this dinky town, if you want to go."
"Blackmail," Penny said. "That's what you mean, isn't it?"
"Why not? It's not as bad as murder."
"I couldn't do anything like that. It's against the law and it would be dangerous." Penny was breathing hard, her big tits rising and falling beneath her snowy white blouse.
"Not as dangerous as testifying against the fat man, locked up, he'd find a way to reach you. Just how long do you think your identity will stay a secret in a little town like this?"
Penny continued to hold the telephone, not knowing what to do. The idea of making any kind of deal with the man who faced her - particularly for blackmail - was unthinkable. And yet she was afraid to call the sheriffs office.
If she just had some time, she could run away.
But where would she go? And on what? Her meager savings weren't enough to get her started somewhere else and to support her mother here at the same time.
Oh, God, why did this have to happen to her?
"Why don't you be smart, baby?" Russ asked, seeing that he had her corning his way whether she liked it or not. "I'll take care of everything. Just put yourself in my hands. It will be quick and it will be easy. From that point on, we'll both be sitting on top of the world."
"But it would be against the law," Penny heard herself saying. "It would mean doing business with a murderer..."
"He'll get caught eventually," Russ said. "The police will accomplish that. They'll identify the woman he killed and that will lead to him. We'll just have made ourselves a little money and you'll be protecting your skin in the meantime. It's the only smart thing to do from your standpoint, baby."
Penny Williams looked pleadingly at the handsome, curly-haired young man who was so confidently giving her the courses of action open to her. She couldn't help comparing his muscular build and rugged physique with that soft almost effeminate-looking Jack Brookes. She'd bet a man like him knew what to do with the tits and cunt of a woman freely given, he'd never act or talk like that narrow-minded old maid, Jack Brooks. Her womanly instinct was to trust him, but the events of the last two days made her put a tight vein on her feelings. She had to be logical, she told herself.
"My name is Russ Bates," the good-looking six-footer was saying, "I'll give you some time to think about the things we've been talking about and I'll call you later. What did you say your name was?"
"Penny Williams," she sighed
Chapter Nine
As Penny sat staring into space after Russ had gone, she felt drawn to him in a way no man had ever affected her before. His face seemed hard, but she sensed a warmth in his brown eyes and his curly hair really sent her. Yes, she wouldn't have the slightest objection to getting fucked by someone like Russ. She could see him kissing the ruby nipples of her lush white breasts, feel his tongue hardening them with its caress. She pictured her thighs beneath his slim powerful loins and felt an actual surge of exciting desire building within her as she imagined his cock parting her cuntlips ... Her reverie was broken by the ringing of the phone. It was just a routine business call and she was immersed in her problem again.
She wanted to see the murderer come to justice, but now she was becoming afraid of her own shadow.
And behind it all she was aware of another force-the urge to run, to leave, to leave her mother, to leave Jack Brooks and all he stood for. To be free. To live a life of her
own. To find fulfillment as a woman.
She sat there, her mind a raging storm that was tapped within the iceberg of her body. She couldn't make up her mind.
That man - Russ - he would hurt her if he had to. He was tough and determined. And the man who had sent him would kill her if he got the chance. Penny had no doubt about that.
Call the sheriff's office or run. Those were the only choices she had. Put herself in the hands of the law or seek her own safety somewhere else.
What would the law do? Would it guard her? Could she be sure.
Would Kim Navell and those two detectives be able to find the wavy-haired man and make him talk?
Would they be able to find the murderer before he found her?
Lots of people in town knew that she had a birthmark. All the killer would have to do would be to ask around. If the man called Russ was put in jail, that wouldn't stop the killer from sending someone else, or from coming to Lynbrook himself.
How safe would she be? How safe could she possibly be if she stayed in that town?
There were too many questions. And her life depended on the right answers to all of them.
There was too great a risk.
She removed her hand from the telephone but remained seated exactly as she was.
She didn't have much money. She couldn't leave Lynbrook now. It was out of the question. There was her mother to think of. If Penny were to take what money she had and leave suddenly, her mother would be lost. She might do something desperate. She had severe spells of depression, as it was. Something might happen which Penny would carry on her conscience for the rest of her life!
"Oh, God!"
The man called Russ didn't seem to be bluffing.
Penny knew he wasn't bluffing. He wanted money, and he would get it one way or the other.
One way meant her possible death.
The other way...
Penny thought about the idea about the idea of blackmail.
She'd never thought about it before, really. She'd heard about it, as everyone has. She'd read about such cases in the newspapers and she'd seen the subject fictionalized in movies and on TV. But she'd never considered it in relation to herself.
Blackmail.
The idea was abhorrent.
Suddenly she thought, what was the matter with her? There was only one thing to do and that was to call Jim Navell right away. She would have to put her safety in his hands. This was the right way, the lawful way.
She picked up the telephone again.
Thousands of dollars, the man had said. He'd sounded as if he knew what he was talking about. He'd seemed so sure of himself.
Very gently she put the telephone down.
It rang-harsh and shrill while her hand was still on it. She jumped, shocked out of her state of concentration. Fear leaped in her like a cold flame.
She picked the phone up. "Mr. Higdon's office." To her own ears, her voice sounded peculiar.
"Penny?" The word was spoken tentatively ... hopefully, It was Jack.
Penny cleared her throat. "Yes."
"Penny honey ... look... "I'm sorry about last night. I mean..."
"I don't want to talk about it," she said tonelessly, holding back the flood-tide of angry emotion which raged within her.
"But we have to talk about it, honey. I was wrong. I want to tell you that right now. I was upset and ..." "Jack please!" Her voice broke.
"Penny?" He sounded uncertain ... questioning.
She couldn't talk with him any longer. She put the phone down on its cradle.
He wanted to make up, but she didn't want to. She never wanted to see him again. She never wanted to hear his voice. She wanted to get away.
Russ had returned to his motel, thrown his things together, and checked out. He had begun to drive.
In spite of the confidence he'd shown when he was talking with the girl, he wasn't sure what she would do.
He had probably acted too fast, he thought now. He had said too much too quickly. He'd been over-anxious. A game like this was strange to him and he'd acted like an amateur. Perhaps the girl had called the sheriff; that was why he was on his way out to town.
He wondered if the girl had watched him get into his car after he'd left her office. If so, had she noted his license number? Well, there was nothing he could do about that now.
As he'd told her, though, the sheriff couldn't prove anything against him. All Russ would have to do would be to keep his mouth shut. He had no criminal record. There was nothing at all to link him to the man in New York. He was carrying the man's money, but money was anonymous, and the sum in his wallet wasn't large enough to give cause for suspicion. Anyone could be carrying three hundred and seventy dollars-that was about what he had left-and who would think a thing about it?
Still, he didn't want to have a run-in with the cops. He had decided to drive to Hempstead and to phone the girl later from there. He'd use a booth, in case her office lines was tapped. He'd talk fast, get her answer, then hang up and be on his way.
What if she told him yes? How would he know the cops hadn't put her up to it and that they'd be on hand to pick him up when he drove back to Lynbrook to meet her?
That was a problem. He hadn't decided as yet just bow to work it out.
As far as the girl's answer was concerned, he still thought there was a good chance that it would be yes. He'd seen the fear in her eyes. That's what had encouraged him to be bold. And he'd gotten another felling about her, too. She wasn't happy. He would have bet that she'd been thinking of leaving that small town and finding a better kind of life. Maybe he'd shown her the way, huh?
She sure as hell was a luscious piece of ass! He wouldn't have minded giving her a little hump just any old day!
A girl like that ... she was wasting herself in a small town. He would have bet she knew it. The city was where she belonged. Money could take her there and keep her for a while.
He thought his chances were good.
But still he had to protect himself.
He considered what he might do if, when he called, she said she wanted to talk with him further. How could he get together with her and still protect himself?
As he mulled the problem over, his Chevy ate up the sun-baked road.
At three minutes after four o'clock in the afternoon, Russ placed the call. He used an outdoor phone booth on the lot. of a service station. Standing in direct sunlight, the booth was like an oven, so Russ kept the door open. He waited as the telephone in Alfred Higdon's office rang once ... twice ...
When the girl answered, Russ recognized her voice.
"This is Russ," he said. "How about it?"
Her reply was soft and excited-almost breathless. "Yes. All right. Where can I meet you?"
He felt a surge of satisfaction. "Drive to the outskirts of Hempstead tonight," he told her. "Register at the Royal Crown Motel. Got that?"
"Yes. But I don't see ... " "Just do as I say. The Royal Crown Motel. It's on Route 25A. I'll come to see you. What kind of car do you drive?"
"A 1967 Mercury," she said hesitantly. "Light blue."
"I'll look for it in the motel court. Be sure to park right in front of your room."
"But why do I have to drive all the way to Hempstead?"
"Never mind. Just do as I tell you. You'll be safe. If I'd wanted to harm you, I could have done it this morning. We were alone at your office."
He gave her a chance to respond but she remained silent.
"The important thing is not to say anything to anyone about this. You can get away this evening, can't you?"
"I suppose so."
"Good. Try to be at the motel by seven or so. I'11 drop around."
"This is dangerous," she told him.
"It won't be," he said, "if you follow instructions. Just leave everything to me, baby-now and from here on. Understand?"
"Yes," she murmured.
"Tonight, then. The Royal Crown Motel on Route 25A." Russ hung up the phone.
Stepping out of the booth, he proceeded to his car and drove away. Two blocks down, he made a left turn. He drove about a mile on Route 2SA until he came to the Royal Crown Motel.
Russ Bates had once heard someone say that everything in life was a matter of calculated risks. In other words, you picked your choice and made your bets. Well, he'd just bet on Penny, a girl he'd only spoken to for a few minutes. She could, of course, have called the Sheriff the minute he left and they could stake him out for a jail cell at the Royal Motel tonight But he was taking his chances that Penny would go along with him. He had a sixth sense about women, and it told him that he'd gotten to this gorgeously built piece of ass.
He grinned to himself. With her physique after they got business details out of the way, it would be a rare pleasure to investigate her birthmark more closely. Maybe he could even discover a few more during the course of what promised to be a very interesting evening.
Chapter Ten
At seven o'clock that evening Russ looked out of his window at the Royal Motel and knew he had won his bet, a 1967 Mercury Comet had pulled into the court and Penny Williams got out to register. He watched the luscious curves of her figure closely as she entered the office. Then he looked at her car and across the road, there was no doubt she had come alone.
When his phone rang, he said, "What's your room number?"
"721."
"I'll be over in a minute, Penny."
Penny awaited Russ with a fearful thrilled sort of expectation. She was definitely attracted by Russ' sure manly strength and self-confidence, but she also feared the vague, unknown dangers that she knew were ahead with this man but could not define. Perhaps it was time she stopped being a baby. Perhaps this was the man who would make a real woman out of her. She opened the door to Russ' knock.
Russ looked her over. She was a beauty, all right. Young. Fresh-looking. She wore a slim beige skirt with a sleeveless beige-and-white checked blouse, white shoes, and stockings that were hardly visible on her tanned flesh. Her chest showed her tits proudly, their full ripeness surging against the thin material of her blouse. The girl's lips were full and very red, her eyes a clear warm brown. But right now the eyes were troubled. He would have to do something about that.
He flopped into a chair. "Relax. The battle's half-won now that we've each made up our minds what we want to do."
She sat, though she was obviously unconvinced by what he'd told her. The hem of her skirt had slipped upward, baring her shapely knees, but her legs were primly together and turned to the side.
Russ grinned again. "You look like Miss Muffet in the spider's parlor," he said. "Loosen up. There's nothing to be afraid of."
She swallowed hard and forced herself to look at him levelly. "What are we going to do? You said you knew the man and that we could get money from him. Thousands of dollars. How are we going to do it?"
Russ lifted a hand in restraint. "Just a minute, now. First things first. Before we go any further, I have to be sure about you."
Penny was surprised. "I came here, didn't I?"
"That isn't what I mean. It's still possible that the guy who hired me isn't the murderer. He could be another thick-set man looking for another girl for another reason. Understand?"
Penny studied him. "No. I don't."
"All he told me about the girl he wanted to find." Russ explained, "was that she had a strawberry-shaped birthmark high on the outside of her right leg. If you have that kind of birthmark, then I know you're the girl. And since you're also the witness to the murder and since the murder was committed by a man who answers the description of the one who hired me, that would mean there couldn't be any doubt that we're on the right track."
She looked at him suspiciously and said nothing.
"So what I want you to do," Russ went on, "is to lift that dress of yours and show me your right leg."
"I have the birthmark," she said.
Russ shook his head. "I have to see it."
Penny looked at him haughtily. "Well, I'm certainly not going to raise my skirt for you."
"Why not? You run around in shorts a lot of the time, don't you?"
"That's different."
"Why?"
She was becoming irritated. "It's just different, that's all."
"Now listen, baby," Russ said, "we'd better get things straight right now. I'm running this show. And I have to be dead sure, before we make a move, that we're going in the right direction. So lift your skirt or I'll have to do it myself."
She froze. "You wouldn't dare!"
"The hell I wouldn't! We're playing for a big pay off and there isn't going to be any fooling around."
Penny said, "I shouldn't have come here alone."
"It's just a damned good thing you didn't bring anybody with you."
She stared at him. This man excited her, but he frightened her at the same time.
He stood up. "Are you going to show me your legs, or aren't you?"
"I told you I have the birthmark," she said.
"But I want to see it." He took a step toward her chair.
"No!"
He lunged, running one hand under her stockinged legs just above her knees and slipping the other arm around her back. He began lifting her out of the chair.
At first Penny was too shocked to fight him, but then she began to twist and squirm in his arms and to flail her fists at his chest and head.
"You wildcat!" Russ grated. With that he tossed her on top of the bed.
She rolled onto her side, legs kicking. Her short skirt hiked up. Russ saw the dark bands at the tops of her legs. He saw a tautly-fastened garter. The white lace of her slip was visible below the slanted hem of her slim skirt.
He vaulted onto the bed beside her, coming down on hands and knees. Penny started to rise, but he easily restrained her with an arm as he sat back on his haunches.
Subduing the girl was child's play. But his physical reaction as he held her squirming against the bed was not child-like in the least. He was aware of her perfume, of her sexy warmth. He was aware of the surging ripeness of her tits and the long sleek lengths of her perfectly contoured legs.
The girl was entirely at his mercy and he knew it Now that she had come to the motel and met him secretly, she couldn't very well go to the police. How would it have looked? They were now committed to one another. This realization gave Russ a sharp sense of pleasure.
Penny kicked and squirmed harder and each wriggle of her lovely ass made her clothing more disarrayed. Her blouse was pulling out from the waistband of her skirt, and her skirt and slip had now moved above her stocking-tops, baring tawny flesh which gleamed in exciting contrast to the dark ribbed nylon.
She was on her left side, with Russ hovering over her back, which meant she was in exactly the right position for him to see the birthmark. Continuing to hold her against the bed with his left arm, her frantic wriggling to no avail, he reached for her disarrayed skirt and slip with his right hand.
One of her arms was trapped beneath her body and the other was held down by his arm which slanted across her, so she could not fight him effectively. She did find it possible to send her right hand down her leg, however, and press against his hand when he tried to pull up her skirt and slip. They grappled.
Penny's mind was engulfed in a swirl of fear, anger, and excitement. This man was virile and powerful. The touch of him, the pressure of his hard body did something to her. She was afraid of him. She was very angry with him. And yet, at the same time, she desired him, too.
He had now overcome the pressure of her hand and he was pulling her skirt and slip upward. There was nothing she could do to stop it.
As Russ yanked her clothing high, he watched every inch of tawny flesh that came into view. Only a thin white garter strap traveled upward across her luscious fullness. Higher her skirt and slip came. Higher, until they were almost up to the edge of her panties. She continued to struggle, rolling between the vise formed by his strong restraining arm and the bed.
Then Russ saw it. The birthmark. It was just as the fat man had described it-shaped and slanted, high on her right leg. Russ released the pressure of his arm against her body.
With unexpected suddenness, Penny's right arm flew out of the trap in which he had held it and Russ felt sharp pain along his cheek. The wildcat had raked him with her nails!
Rage blossomed like a great red flower in his brain. The tramp; The wild, crazy tramp! He'd show her she couldn't treat Russ Bates like that!
He pounced at her with renewed vigor, his entire upper body pressing her against the bed and turning her onto her face. He grasped the rumpled edges of her skirt and slip in his right fist again, but this time he didn't try to work them higher. He just yanked straight upward.
The cloth popped, then shredded.
Penny wailed as she realized what he was doing, but he was lying across her back, holding her tightly to the bed, and she couldn't resist.
He tore her skirt and slip all the way to her waist, then twisted so that his side was pressing against her and both of his hands were free. Grasping the torn garments at either side, he flipped them open as one might do with the tissue on a Christmas present.
Lying as he was, right against her back, he got only a glimpse of what he had unwrapped. A glimpse wasn't enough. So he leaped up and over, facing toward the rear.
And then he saw.
Penny's lovely ass was directly beneath his gaze. It was round, buoyantly curved, and softly firm. Sheathing it were a pair of ultra-sheer panties, their leg-elastic traveling across the pouting richness of each buttock. As she kicked her stockinged legs, they shook and quivered.
Russ' face still smarted where Penny scratched him. He rubbed his hands against it and his hand came away red.
"You little whore!" he snarled. "I'll teach you to fight me!"
He swiped his bloodied hand across the torn fabric of her skirt and then raised both hands high above her. He brought the right hand down first right on her asscheeks.
It hit her with a sharp-sounding smack. She cried out. Lust surged for Russ as Penny's ass, so lightly covered, yielded beneath the flat of his hand. They wobbled tautly.
He brought his left hand down. Smack again. Her buttocks danced.
He spanked her and spanked her, with one hand and then the other, and he was no longer in control of himself. Raw, rough-riding hump-desire was in the saddle.
Suddenly he didn't want her panties on. He didn't want anything, even a garment so sheer and brief as her panties, to shield her ass from his hands. So he dug up under the torn folds of her outer clothing and grasped the elastic of the panties. He yanked it downward. He would have to tear them off, he realized.
He gave a mighty tug. The elastic popped and the sheer nylon ripped. He hauled it away.
He left the torn panties at her knees, where they helped to restrain her legs, and then he began to spank her again. Her pouting ass-lusciously white above the tan-line-jumped and trembled as his hard hands slammed directly against it. Now it was reddening. He continued to spank her buttocks until the rage within him had spent itself. But naked lust remained.
Penny had been crying and beating her hands against the bed.
When Russ rolled her over, she glared at him in fearful fury. "You louse!" she cried. "You dirty, louse."
He slapped her face and she gasped. Her eyes became great wide pools and she didn't utter a sound.
"Now maybe we understand one another," he said hoarsely. "But that doesn't mean I'm going to leave you like this."
With that he dug his fingers under the neck of her blouse and tore it all the way to her waist. She released a desperate whining sound, deep in her throat, but she continued to stare at rum. She wasn't fighting now. At the moment, she couldn't move or say a word.
Russ looked at her fully-loaded white brassiere, then hooked two fingers under the elasticized fabric between the cups. He yanked.
"Uuhh!" Penny cried.
The bra cups fell off and away.
Russ stared at the high-mounding, white, pink-nippled tits which were now bare before him. He opened his hands, extending them out to her sides, then brought them to her as if he were getting ready to grasp a single large globe. One luscious firm breast fit the curve of each palm as he pressed them both toward the center. They rose and came together, leaving but a thin line between her two milk-white knockers.
He studied her nipples. They were gloriously pink. They showed every sign of being capable of stark erection, though they were not erect as yet.
Still pressing her tits together, his palms firmly against their outer sides, Russ began to rub his coarse-textured thumbs across them.
Wild thrills went through the girl, starting at the pink nipples which Russ was treating with such delightful roughness and spreading through the entirety of each of her breasts, and from there throughout her body. She was thoroughly alive with hump-desire. Even hating this man as she did, she wanted him to fuck her. The spanking had actually heightened her desire. She was in the grip of a force that was primeval, rooted in the antiquity of time, and she could do nothing but surrender to the waves of sensation which were sweeping through her.
Her nipples grew hard beneath Russ' thumbs. They swelled and fattened and rose like towers which were pinked by the first rays of dawn. When they had become just as large and high as they could possibly get, Russ took each of them between a finger and thumb and rolled them back and forth.
Penny gasped. The sensation in her nipples was driving her crazy.
"You like that, huh?" Russ asked.
"Yes! Yes!"
"Not going to fight me any more, are you?"
"No," Penny said breathlessly.
"You have a boy friend, baby?" he asked as he continued to caress her, letting the remainder of his hands hold the fullness of her bounteous breasts.
"Not any more," she gasped. "We broke up ... yesterday."
"What was the matter? Couldn't he send you like this?"
She ignored his question. "Oh, that feels so wonderful!" she breathed. "Why don't you kiss them?"
"I asked you something. Wasn't your boy friend any good?"
"I don't want to talk about... oh, Russ!"
He released her nipples so that he could look at them standing free, while he maintained a basket-hold around her billowing breasts. He began to lower his head.
'That's right!" Penny said. "Yes, here!" She brought her own hand to her right breast and pinched its tip, forcing the nipple very high.
Russ held his face still and studied the nipple carefully. He always liked to do that first. That made things better somehow. Then he swooped downward and started to suck her swollen pink nipple.
Penny pressed her head back against the bed and forced her eyes closed. Heaven! Oh, he could frig her like this forever!
What a kiss he had! He was wild, and the edges of his teeth on her sensitive nipples were driving her mad. "I like that!" she gasped.
He made a sound deep in his throat but didn't stop working on her tits. That was too good. Like some rare subtle spice.
"Mmmm ..." she sighed pleasurably, "I never felt so good."
Russ raised slightly so that his lips brushed across her nipple as he spoke: "What never felt so good, baby? Tell me."
"Nnn ..." She was completely giddy, all inhibitions falling away. She giggled. "My titties!" She giggled again. It was almost as if she were drunk.
"You can talk plainer than that," Russ murmured, squeezing her breasts and moving at the same time so that the nipples traveled along the edges of his lips.
"Yes," she admitted. And then she did talk plainer.
As she talked, Russ went to work on her knockers with fresh zeal.
Finally Penny told him, "I can't wait any longer. Finish me."
"You can talk plainer than that, too," Russ said.
"You're awful," she breathed, but she looked up at him adoringly, her face flushed, her eyes shining.
"Tell me," he urged as his hands traveled across her torn and rumpled clothes.
"Please fuck me! Oh, fuck me now, Russ!"
It was funny, Russ thought as he worked to free her legs from her ripped panties. Even the nicest girls knew most of the words, and they didn't object to using them when the time was right. All they required was a little coaxing. They seemed to get a kick out of that. In most cases it actually helped to get their pussies ready. .; After throwing her panties aside, he took but a moment to open his trousers and shuck them down. Then he freed himself from his shorts.
He moved to her.
Penny's ass hurt her, but it was a hurt which added to her need for fucking. She was, all over, in a state of sweet torture especially in her cunt... She'd never before been as horny as this with a man. She'd never been lifted to such a height of passionate desire for a prick in her hot vagina.
She gasped, "Oohhhh ..." She breathed, tightening her arms around him.
Her cunt was invitingly ready. There was no need to be gentle, not that Russ would have been gentle anyway.
He thrust his enormous pricker between her cuntlips, and shoved up her vagina until his cock was buried up to his balls.
A cry burst from Penny's lips. She'd never had such a big prick in her before. As he fucked away she felt his huge dong would split her in two.
They began to fuck in unison.
That lasted a very long time and, before his cock slowed down, Penny reached a height of hump-delirium greater than she'd ever known. She gasped and exhorted him in all the obscene words she had never spoken aloud before that night.
And all the while Russ kept fucking her cunt faster. As if he was never going to stop.
When the finish arrived, it was with the bursting force of an explosion. She felt his cock shudder and then spurt jet after jet of thick white sperm up her cunt as he "came". For moments she wavered at the threshold of unconsciousness, dimly aware that she was crying aloud as her cunt, too, writhed in a cunt-juice flooded orgasm.
And then she fell back, quiet.
Moments later he pulled out his limp, slippery dick and moved away.
"Oh, God..." She breathed.
"You and I are really right for each other," Russ said. "In all ways." "Yes."
"I'm sorry about your clothes," he said softly. "And about the spanking."
She patted his cheek and kissed him.
They tried screwing again a little later, this time both of them in the nude.
When they had caught their breaths after the second fuck and lay side-by-side completely spent and sated Penny remarked, "I thought you wanted me to come here so that we could talk."
"I did, believe it or not."
"Now it's late and I'll have to be getting back." Suddenly she sat up. "But I don't have any clothes. What am I going to do?"
"Don't worry about it. You're not going back."
"But, Russ, I can't just... " "Do you live alone?" he interrupted.
"No. I live with my mother."
"You can phone her," Russ said. "Does she know you're the one who witnessed the murder?"
Penny shook her head, pushing loose hair away from her fact. "I didn't tell her. She's not well and I thought it would upset her too much."
"She's bound to find out now, but it's better if you don't talk to her about it. Make up some kind of story, but don't tell her where you're going."
"Russ, I can't do that! She'll worry. I'm the only one she has in the world."
"It can't be helped," he said. "From now on, it's just you and me. If she needs money, I can give you some to send her. You can't go back there."
"I'd made up my mind to leave town, but I wanted at least to tell her good-bye."
"It's better to do it over the phone. Tell her you'll keep in touch with her by mail."
"Oh, Russ..."
He held her in his arms. "It can't be helped baby. This is the way it's got to be. As soon as we get our hands on that chunk of money we're aiming for, neither one of us will have any worries."
"But..."
He put his finger against her lips. "I'm the boss now, don't forget. No more arguments."
Penny was silent for a few moments. Then she said, "How much money are we going to get, Russ?"
"A lot. Unless I miss my guess, we can hit that fat boy for fifty thousand."
"That's half for you and half for me. Unless, that is, we decided to spend the whole pile together."
She lay back on the bed. "I still can't believe this is happening."
It may have been the position of Penny's full thighs as they undulated against the white bed sheet, but Russ was compelled to kiss her tits again. When his lips had ripened her nipples fully, he began to kiss the satiny skin of her rounded belly. Penny's hips and ass began to writhe pleasurably as Russ' lips left their warmth on her waist. Then Russ' strong hands suddenly clasped the quivering mounds of her buttocks and Penny's legs began a wild thrashing as his questing mouth went straight to her cuntlips. His tongue parted them and started to lick her clitoris. Penny clutched his curly hair, she had never in her life experienced pleasure so extreme. As his tongue flicked and lips nibbled her erect clitty gently, she screamed in joy and was completely convulsed by a sweet sharp ecstasy she never knew existed. Her ass twitched and writhed as she "came" and her cunt-juices flood her vagina. Russ drank down her oozing pussy-juice, still mixed with some of his own sperm ...
Chapter Eleven
Penny had thrown off the bed sheet and was naked before Russ' gaze. It was morning and she was asleep. Russ drank in her beauty as she lay next to him. He was happy to note that she was a real reddish blonde right down to her bush-hair. He didn't care too much for dye jobs. He liked the snowy whiteness of her breasts and her nicely defined cherry-bright nipples that were so responsive to his touch. She had a satiny tan where her bikini hadn't covered her, and the white globes of her shimmering asscheeks made a sexy contrast with the darker sections of her thighs and shapely legs.
This babe sent him too, he thought as he felt his prick becoming aroused. But the thought that he had ripped all her clothes to shreds stopped him. He rolled out of bed, got dressed and decided to run into town and get Penny some new clothes before she awakened. He left her a note so she wouldn't worry.
Penny was up before he returned and read the note.
She lay in bed and thought again about her telephon conversation late last night with her mother.
It had been an unhappy event. Her mother had cried and accused Penny of deserting her. Well, Penny was guilty of that in a way, she admitted to herself, even though her mother could write checks against the funds in the joint bank account which Penny had left behind.
Rather than to make up a story-which probably wouldn't have been convincing anyway-Penny had decided to give her mother no explanation at all. She had simply stated she was "going away for a while," and would keep in touch by mail.
Now, reviewing it in her mind, Penny wondered how she had developed sufficient nerve to take the step and to do it as suddenly as she had. It wasn't difficult to figure out. Russ was the answer. To her, he was a tower of strength, and he had transformed her life with his wonderful fucking in the space of just twelve hours. Other factors had helped, of course. Pressures. The murder case-its unpleasantness and danger-and also the way that she and Jack Brooks had broken up. But she wouldn't have taken the step if it hadn't been for Russ.
She thought about him.
He was wonderful. Tough and, yes, brutal too. Her asscheeks were still sore from the way he had spanked her the preceding night. But she liked the masterfulness of him.
And what a really marvelous fucker he was! What a magnificent cock!
She wondered how many girls had been treated to that glorious, thick dick she'd enjoyed the night before (perhaps not including the spanking.) He'd done a lot of fucking around, she guessed.
That thought made her jealous.
There was no doubt she had fallen in love with Russ. How could she have helped it? He was big, virile, handsome-everything a woman wants in a man-and he knew how to deliver a real manly screw at the same time. That was what she particularly needed-a man who could lead her and on whom she could lean.
Jack Brooks wasn't that kind of man.
Russ Bates was. And how he was!
Of course, there was the money, too-the money she and Russ were going to get from the man.
Thinking about the money, and what they would have to do to get it, chilled her a bit. But she would have Russ to protect her. Somehow she felt that he could protect her from anything.
She still didn't like the idea of blackmail. And she didn't like doing business with a murderer. But, really, what choice did she have? The way it looked to Penny, her life wouldn't have been worth two cents if she'd stayed in Lynbrook to testify against the man. This way she was protecting herself and getting away from Lynbrook while she carried out her obligation to her mother at the same time.
And she had Russ.
She couldn't stop thinking about him.
She looked down at her breasts, where he had loved so fervently the night before. No one had ever made them feel like that. No one had ever made her feel as she had last night when Russ' cock was in her cunt...
She felt a tremor pass through her at the mere recollection. He hadn't put his cock in her that morning, even though she would have been willing. Now she was more than ready. She wondered if the time would ever come when she would not be ready to fuck for Russ.
It was sinful, she guessed, for her to be such an easy lay for him like this. But that thought didn't disturb her. Her mother's warnings against losing her cherry had lost their power years ago when Penny had her first hump with Ritchie Craig.
Anyway, she and Russ would be married. Penny assured herself of that. She loved him. Even though he might not feel that strongly about her as yet, she believed she could bring him around. Hadn't women been successfully doing that since the dawn of civilization? And wasn't she as attractive and desirable as any girl?
Yes, he would marry her.
And they would have a wonderful life together.
She was thinking about this when Russ returned with a store bundle under his arm.
Penny sat up. "Well, did you get everything?"
"Lord," he said as he dropped the large paper sack on the bed. "I never want to go through that again."
Penny laughed as she began to dig in the parcel. "What was the matter? Couldn't you find the right styles and sizes?"
"Yeah, but picking out that kind of stuff-the panties and brassieres and all that's no job for a man."
Penny giggled. "Silly! Lots of husbands buy panties for their wives as Christmas and birthday presents. Who knows," she added, looking at him lovingly, "some day you may be doing that."
"Not me," he assured. "I can get along without marriage just as well as I can get along without buying girls' panties."
The positiveness of his tone sent a slight pang through her. "Oh, really?"
He pointed to the package. "Go ahead and look at the stuff. If it's okay, you'd better get dressed so we can get out of here."
Penny had been removing smaller packages from the large bag, but now she had lost interest in them. She looked up at Russ, her brown eyes sparkling. "Isn't there something you'd like to do first? Before we leave here, I mean?"
He considered. She looked good, all right, sitting there naked. Why not? he thought.
He walked over beside the bed. "Sure, baby."
"The trouble is," she remarked saucily as she looked him over, "You have all those clothes on."
"Yeah? Well, why don't you do something about that." His eyes twinkled.
"You mean, undress you?"
"Sure. Lots of girls get a charge out of undressing men."
"I've never tried it," she said.
"Then now's the time. Your education has been lacking." He moved up close to her.
There was a glint of anticipation in her eyes as she reached for the top button of his sport shirt. She undid it, then went on to the next. When she had finished the row and partially uncovered his muscular chest, the next logical place to go was the top of his slacks.
They had a self-belt and Penny opened that first. As Russ slipped off his shirt, she opened his pants.
"Oh, my!" she exclaimed as she saw his huge, throbbing cock.
"Like me?" he asked.
"The feeling's mutual."
"Why don't you ... uh ... you know."
"But I've never taken any man's cock in my mouth!"
"As I said before, baby - now's the time."
She moved closer. "Well, maybe..."
"Giving a man a blow-job isn't bad, really."
She gave him a peculiar look. "How would you know?"
"Girls tell me," he was quick to explain. "Well..."
"I'll return the favor again to your pussy!" "You will? Really?" "I will really."
And then she didn't say any more for awhile because her lips had closed over the head of his pecker. As her tongue and lips worked up and down his thick shaft, she felt his prick jerk and his spurting, creamy sperm shot down her throat. There was so much of his semen, she almost gagged but managed to swallow it down. She had heard men didn't like girls who spit out their scum.
When she was able to talk again - and when he had caught his breath - Russ asked, "Well?"
She murmured huskily, "That was wild!"
He chuckled.
"We made a deal, don't forget." Her eyes were shining.
"Let me get rid of these things."
He stripped away the remainder of his clothes, including his shoes and socks. Then he lifted Penny's packages off the bed.
"Oooh ... lover!" she cried.
Russ was the one who wasn't talking now as his tongue parted her cuntlips and licked her clitoris and cunt-hole.
She kept saying things, but he had difficulty hearing her.
By the time he straightened up, Penny was gasping. She had just stopped moaning joyously, she came, flooding his mouth with her cunt-juicing "come".
Russ moved closer.
"Now fuck me!" Penny ordered.
He did just that.
"Oh!" she exclaimed explosively, her arms wrapping themselves around him as he thrust his cock up her twat. "That's what I need! Oh, honey, your prick is the best!"
The magic of passion cast its spell again and again, the excitement gradually mounting until both man and woman were in a trance-like delirium. The hump-rhythm attained a furious tempo. Penny cried out as she felt his hot scum shooting into her cunt and "came", flooding his burning prick with her copious cunt-juice. His sperm seemed to spurt in a never-ending flow as he groaned, "I'm coming, honey, I'm coming right in your cunt!"
Then, as always-no matter how long the orgasm lasts-it's over too soon. They lay gasping.
"You'd better ... check ... the bed springs," Penny said when she had partially caught her breath. "I think we broke them that time."
Russ chuckled and swung off her. "Let the next occupants worry about that. We've got to get out of here."
"I think that hump will hold me until tonight," Penny said, sitting up. "Do I have time for a shower?" "If you hurry," Russ said.
After he'd watched her lovely naked body wiggle into the bathroom, Russ began to get dressed. He thought to himself, Man, I really caught myself a live cunt this time!
Russ had Penny place her Mercury in a garage for storage. She used a false name.
Then they left for New York in his Chevy.
Russ had worked out the pitch he was going to pass to the thick-set man and, on the way, he went over it with Penny.
The main thing, he said, was for her to stay out of reach because she was the one whose testimony could really hurt the man they knew as "Dave."
Russ would run the ad, set up a meeting, and then spring the proposition: Fifty thousand in cold cash or else Russ and Jenny would both go to the police. The two of them together could nail "Dave" to the well-known wall, and he would realize it.
He would pay, Russ figured.
Then Russ and Penny would beat it out of town.
But what would they do, she asked, if the thick-set man was the one to run away?
He wouldn't run, Russ assured her. He was in business. He had too much to lose. If the choice was between running or paying, he would pay.
"But you said he might have gangster connections," Penny said unsteadily. "What if he should try to do away with us-put us on the spot?"
Russ was the picture of assurance and self-confidence as he told her, "Penny, money is one thing and murder is another. I'm betting that if our boy can buy his way out of one murder rap, he's not going to commit any more killings. From what I could see, he's loaded and the money shouldn't mean too much to him.
Penny looked up at the brown-eyed masculine features of Russ. As she took in his stalwart, sinewy body, his strength dissolved her doubts and fears. This was her man. No one had ever turned her on the way Russ could. Penny looked at Russ adoringly, smiled and said, "I guess you know best Russ. I'll go along with you all the way.
Chapter Twelve
C.C. "Bull" Zelman was sweating. It was a strange sensation for him, as he generally had other people in the spot where they trembled and broke as he, Bull, applied the pressure. He scanned the Times carefully for the past couple of days looking for the code at that damned prick-pusher was supposed to insert. Zelman fretted that the guy probably blew the area with his money. Four hundred bucks down the drain. Bull didn't care about the money so much, but he might have been doing something in the meantime to protect himself.
Bull became real jumpy when he read in the Hempstead "Journal" that the girl with the birthmark had been found by the D.A.'s office. He tore the paper in a rage when he realized that she had given the authorities a rough description of him and had identified the car as a Lincoln Continental.
Just to be on the safe side, Bull had left his Continental in the garage for the last couple of days and was using his wife's Chrysler. He'd told her that the Continental's engine needed work. She'd never know the difference, he figured, and it wouldn't hurt her to stay at home for a while.
Now that the girl with the birthmark had drawn public attention to herself as the witness to a murder, the curly-haired stud would have no trouble locating and identifying her, Bull thought. After all, she probably wore shorts around town a lot of the time and her birthmark would be on display.
It was possible that the man he'd hired in Lynbrook would smell a rat when he learned that the girl Bull had wanted him to find was a murder witness. He might become suspicious, and then again he might not, depending on how smart he was. The guy had impressed Bull as having quite a lot of savvy, so Bull thought that there was a good chance he might put two-and-two together.
Well, Bull would be careful when the man tried to get in touch with him. He would play it as cool as possible. The guy would want the additional four hundred, and a drifter like him probably wouldn't have too much concern for the law. Bull didn't consider the possibility of blackmail.
It was the waiting - the uncertainty of everything - that had gotten Bull down. And that was why, on this particular afternoon, he had left his office early and driven his wife's Chrysler to a certain address the East Sixties.
He needed relaxation. And what better way to relax than to indulge himself in the sort of entertainment which Tammy Chaumelle had to offer?
Tammy was a whore, but an expensive one. A cool hundred bucks was her charge for fucking, sucking, or you name the perversion.
Well. Bull could afford it. And Tammy was worth the money. No doubt about that.
He'd been going to see her off and on for some time - not so often lately, while he'd been carrying on his affair with Valerie Desmond. But now Valerie was dead. Bull tried not to even think about her any more.
Tammy was a worthy substitute hump even though she demanded cash on the line. That was really more honest. Bull thought, than the way Valerie had been-pretending to love him and to fuck for him for himself alone, but at the same time always trying to wheedle money and presents out of him, and finally threatening to go to his wife unless he got a divorce and married her. Valerie had turned out to be a common whore too. Better to fuck an honest whore than a dishonest one, Bull thought.
Tammy received him with open arms.
He got a charge out of just looking at her. Blonde and tall, she had long legs and a terrific set of curves. Especially those tits. He had never seen any to beat hers.
They were big. Big and soft and squeezable.
Bull really liked them.
They had no sooner said hello and completed the monetary arrangement than he said, "Come on now, get that dress off and let's see them." He was that kind of man-right to the point, with no fooling around.
Tammy smiled. "You've missed them, huh C.C.?"
"Have I missed those knockers, baby! Just turn 'em here and I'll show you!"
So she took off her dress. It wasn't much of a dress, really. It was a shift that fit like a sack, but even a sack couldn't do much to conceal the kind of build Tammy had.
Under the sack she wore only a pair of panties. Yellow panties to match the hair on her head. Bull had always suspected that she might be of Swedish descent. One thing for sure-she had the Nordic passion, and the big soft titties of a Swede, too.
"Well?" she said proudly, pushing her knockers out to him.
"Yeah, baby!" he responded, at the moment just teasing himself with the sight of them.
She moved her shoulders expertly and her breasts began a lazy sort of shaking. The brown nipples at then-peaks were flaccid and Bull didn't like that. What good were nipples unless they were sticking up?
"Want me to take your clothes off?" Tammy invited as her big tits came to a shivering rest.
"I'll do it," Bull said. He didn't care to have women fussing over him. Anyway, he knew damned well that his body was no great prize for unveiling.
This one-this Tammy-was smart enough to have pretended it was, if he had let her undress him. She would have oo'd and aahhh'd like a kid with a new toy. But he would have known damned well that she didn't mean any of it. So Bull preferred to get the undressing done by himself.
So he stripped.
Once he had a woman down on a bed, his thick, bull-prick could make her happy, because then he was as good as any other stud.
When he was naked as a bird - although in that state he bore perhaps a greater resemblance to a whale - he moved to Tammy who had arrayed herself for his muscle-bound inspection.
Except that she hadn't yet removed her pants. Experienced call-girl that she was, she knew that there were many men who got a special charge out of taking off a girl's panties.
There was something symbolic about panties, she guessed. Either that or else it was just the feel of them - the silkiness.
Of course, there were some men who didn't like to be bothered. Pants were just pants to them, whether worn by a girl or a man. She had forgotten what Bull's attitude was, so she had kept her panties on.
Bull didn't care much about girls' panties one way or the other. Valerie had never worn them and that had been all right with him. It had been handy, as a matter of fact. When they'd been riding in the car, he could always put his hand on her leg and make her come whenever they came to a long red light just by caressing her clitoris ...
But at a time like this, what was the difference? A pair of panties came off easily enough.
At the moment, Bull was more concerned about Tammy's tits anyway. For the time being, at least. She lifted herself slightly as he ran one thick arm beneath her. That still left his right hand free.
He put it to immediate use.
"Mmmm..." Tammy said.
"You like that, huh?" he asked.
He had no idea that Tammy couldn't have cared less. Like many call-girls, she was a Lesbian in her free time. Men didn't move her at all. But she was an accomplished actress and had never let any of them get wise.
She said, "Oh, yes, C.C.! Tease them some more. I love that!"
So he took them and she shook them. He squeezed them and wobbled them and he plucked at their light brown tips.
Then he began to kiss them. And that was when Bull really took off on a flight to his personal paradise.
There was nothing to Bull's way of thinking, that quite compared to the thrill of caressing round, soft, luscious breasts. There was just something about that topped every other sex kick in the world.
He liked the way they yielded against him. He liked their warmth.
Most of all he liked to peak them with his fingers, then tickle them with his lips. He liked to tease them gently with his teeth.
He'd never wondered very much about this-whether it was "normal" or not, whether it was manly or not, or just why he should enjoy it so much. Bull was not an introspective man. He just knew he liked tits, the bigger the better, and that was that.
Now he was enjoying himself to his heart's content. He squeezed and kissed and bit them gently. Then he took one at a time to his mouth and sucked in as much of the tit he could take.
Tammy pretended she was getting as much out of his playing around with her knockers as he was, and that made Bull feel good, too. So he worked all the stronger.
He stayed with her tits for a very long time - longer than most men would have done - and even when he was finally ready to proceed to a more active expression of his fuck-routine, he wasn't willing to forsake them entirely.
She asked him, "Why don't you take off my clothes C.C.?"
He gave a little snort of impatience, but he ran his fat hands down the length of her back and hooked the elastic band at her waist. He peeled the panties off her ass. Then he said, "you finish it."
He was more interested in her big round titties. As he went to work on them again, now deriving a new and different thrill because they were hanging and shaking freely with every little movement Tammy made, the girl slowly divested herself of her panties, shoving them down first one leg and then the other, and finally working them entirely off.
Now she was as naked as he was.
"Ready now, C.C.?" she asked.
She didn't want to rush him. After all, a hundred dollars entitled a man to all the frigging he wanted to keep him happy.
He grunted and took one hand from her breasts. He angled himself just right and that was her answer.
And then ... he abruptly shoved his big cock completely up her cunt with one brutal thrust.
"Ooh, you're a good one, C.C.," she murmured.
Actually C.C. was a kind of fast bumper. But, then, the quicker they were, the less bothersome the job for Tammy.
Bull watched her breasts and caressed them and kissed them and let her work her twat up and down his thick shaft and do all the work.
It wasn't that Bull was lazy or that he didn't have the energy any more, but this to him was the ideal way, because he had his hands free and Tammy's tits were thus displayed to maximum advantage.
She didn't want the hump-session to last into the night. She had another fuck-date at nine.
Finally Bull shot his load of sperm into her cunt like a skyrocket on the Fourth of July. That was Tammy's cue to go to her own ass-wiggling display of her phony "come". When that was all over, Bull felt that he'd had his money's worth of fucking and tit-feeling.
He was one thoroughly satisfied customer indeed.
And relaxed.
He wasn't worried about a thing.
That condition prevailed until, driving home, he stopped to pick up the early edition of the Times ... just in case.
He turned to the classified section, found the heading marked Personals, and read: Dave-Call me Schuyler Hotel at noon. Request page. Eddie.
Bull, at first elated to see the ad, now frowned. He was cagy, this drifter. He obviously didn't want to let Bull know where he was staying. He was going to be in the hotel's lobby or bar at noon, and he was going to listen for the page on the hotel's public address system. Then he would pick up the house phone and answer it.
Cute.
Only Bull wasn't going to make it that easy for him. Bull would be on hand. There was nothing like a face-to-face meeting to get things ironed out.
The soothing physical therapy which Tammy's luscious tits had given the nervous Bull Zelman began to wear off as he considered all the angles. He wondered if "Eddie" had really been able to spot the girl with the birthmark. Had he been able to guess the real reasons Bull wanted the girl? There was a good probability of that, since the D.A.'s office had let the girl's description leak out to the papers.
The nipples on Tammy's breasts intruded into Bull's mind once again. He loved the way they jutted out, like a pair of large crimson rubies as Tammy swung them across his chest and belly. That gal was real good, he should have kept on fucking her, he thought, and he never would have gotten into this mess over Valerie Desmond.
On second thought, how did he know that the stud hadn't blundered into the hands of the cops? Maybe this Schuyler Hotel deal was some kind of police setup, the stud might have spilled his guts. It would be smarter to stay away from the Schuyler Hotel. He'd follow "Eddie's" directions for the time being and see what developed.
Chapter Thirteen
The Schuyler Hotel in the West Forties was pretty modern and used a lot by the air lines to put up their crews overnight. Russ appreciated this as he watched one gorgeous stewardess after another pass him by in the lobby. If he weren't waiting for that contact call, he knew there were at least three swell pieces of ass he could have picked up already. He'd have to remember this spot.
In the meantime, Russ listened carefully every time the bell captain paged someone. It was getting a little late and Russ wondered if everything was going to be all right. If the call didn't come through, there was that tall, red-headed stewardess hanging around the news stand who'd been giving him the eye for the last five minutes ...
Russ fidgeted. He didn't like doing this sort of thing. It wasn't really what he was cut out for. But the chance to harvest himself a crop of lettuce had been too good to pass by. All he had to do to reassure himself was to think how long it would have taken him to make twenty-five thousand by working on some housing project, or breaking his back on a road-building job. Hell, he would never have been able to get that much loot together at one time by working for it.
Really it was fifty thousand he was going to have. Penny's twenty-five would be just as good as his because he'd make it a point to see that she stuck with him until the money was gone. By then he'd be tired of screwing her anyway and he'd be ready to kiss her off as he'd kissed all the others.
Until then, however...
It wouldn't be bad at all, he decided. Fifty thousand bucks and a cute little cunt like Penny to fuck for him whenever he was in the mood. Concentrating on this combination made him feel a great deal better. He felt so good, as a matter of fact, that his blood pressure hardly jumped a notch when the hotel's P.A. system proclaimed: Telephone call for Mr. Eddie. Telephone call for Mr. Eddie."
Russ got up and walked to the nearest house phone. He picked it up. This is Mr. Eddie. You have a call for me?"
"Yes sir," the operator said. "Just a moment, please." There was a click, then "Go ahead please."
"Eddie?" It was the heavy-set man's voice-husky and kind of deep-pitched. Russ remembered it.
"Hello, Dave."
"Is everything okay?" the fat man asked him. Russ detected a note of suspicion in his tone.
"I found her. Where do you want to meet?"
There was a moment of silence and then the other man said, "I'll pick you up in my car. Wait on Fifth Avenue, across from the library. Know where that is?"
"Yeah."
"Half an hour. Be alone." "Sure."
The phone clicked in Russ' ear.
The hotel wasn't far from the library, so Russ had fifteen or twenty minutes to kill. He sauntered across the lobby and into the bar. He ordered a beer.
At the appointed time Russ stood by the bus stop on Fifth, right at the side entrance of a large department store. The library was on the other side of the one-way street. He waited for several minutes.
Finally a car pulled to the curb and stopped. As the driver leaned forward Russ recognized him. Though the car was a Chrysler rather than a Continental, it was driven by the man he'd met several days before on Main Street in Lynbrook.
"Get in," the man said as Russ approached the Chrysler.
He did and the car lunged forward, back into the traffic stream.
Russ studied the man behind the wheel. So this was what a murderer looked like, huh? Russ guessed he'd probably seen murderers before, but never been aware of it at the time.
Bull Zelman guided the Chrysler-which he had rented as a precaution against Russ taking the license number of one of his own cars-up Sixth Avenue.
"Well?" he said, not looking Russ' way as he talked. "What name's she using and where can I find her?"
"Her name's Penny Williams." Russ eyes twinkled. "It turns out that she's a pretty important person-a witness to that murder they had in Lynbrook three or four nights ago."
"I don't know a thing about it," Bull said, still looking straight ahead.
"Don't give me that?"
He glanced at Russ quickly. "Say, what's the matter with you?"
"Let's just get our business finished, huh?" Bull was still guiding the car along Sixth Avenue but they were moving more slowly now. He was concerned about the younger man's attitude.
"Suits me fine," Russ said. "Tell me where the girl lives."
"She doesn't live in Lynbrook any more," Russ replied smoothly. "Huh?"
"She doesn't live in Lynbrook any more," Russ repeated. "She's right here in New York."
Bull saw an open stretch of curb and veered the Chrysler to the right. He parked.
He twisted his body toward Russ. "Alright! Let me have it straight. What's this all about?"
Russ' eyes continued to twinkle confidently as he talked in a slow easy drawl: "Well, this girl and I got pretty well acquainted during the last day or two. We're kind of what you might call a team now. We're in New York together."
"Yeah?" Bull said cautiously. Anxiety was playing along his spine like fingers on the keyboard of a piano.
"Penny was a little afraid to stay in Lynbrook with you looking for her, so she came along to New York with me. It isn't that she had anything against you, understand, it's just that she's thinking about herself, too. Just like I am, Dave."
Bull was nervously fingering an unlit cigar. "Make sense, will you?"
"Okay. Here it is, flat out: Penny and I know you're the one who killed that woman over in Lynbrook the other night. She can identify you and I can help the police with a tie-in here." Bull's face was blanching, but Russ went on as if he hadn't noticed: "As I said, it isn't that either one of us wants to make you any trouble. Hell, live and let live-that's what I've always believed. All we want from you is fifty thousand dollars to make it worth our while. Then we'll both forget we ever saw you."
"We'll get out of New York and go some place where we can't do you any harm."
"You louse!" Bull growled.
"Take it easy," Russ said crisply. "I'm doing you a favor man. Look at it that way, why won't you?"
"You're all wet! I had nothing to do with no murder over there."
"Like hell!" Russ' smile said he didn't believe a word of it.
Bull stared at him for a few seconds. Then his expression changed slowly, slyness replacing fear and rage. "Maybe ... you and me and the girl should all get together. Maybe we can talk this out, huh?"
"No." Russ said firmly. "There's nothing to talk about. We know you're the killer. Penny can identify you and I can let the cops know for sure that you're in New York. I can give them a description of this car, too."
"The car ain't mine," Bull said quickly.
"I bet it can be traced to you easy enough," Russ responded. "You know damn well that the girl and I can cause you bad trouble. Fifty grand isn't a very big price to pay to keep us quiet."
Bull didn't say a thing, but just stared. He'd had no idea something like this would happen. He hadn't been prepared for it at all.
"The only thing for you to do, big boy, is to hand over that money," Russ went on. "What do you say we head for your bank right now?"
Bull had to think. Pressure seemed to be closing in on him like a vise clamped to the sides of his head. He'd had the same feeling a few times before in his life and he'd always reacted violently. The last time he'd felt this way he'd been driving back from Long Island with Valerie.
But he had to be careful now, he knew. A misstep could be costly. Too costly. From the corners of his eyes, he studied the determined man beside him. Russ was lighting a cigarette, apparently confident of his ability to force Bull to go along with the shakedown.
In a controlled tone of voice Bull said. "Fifty grand ain't gonna make me or break me. I could give it to you.
Hell, it might even be worth it if I was sure the girl-this Penny Williams-would really drop out of sight. The hell of it is, I ain't sure she's in this with you. You could be running a bluff."
He watched for the younger man's reaction. Russ narrowed his eyes as he looked at Bull. "You see what I mean, don't you, Eddie? You could be pulling this thing on your own. Maybe the girl skipped out of Lynbrook and you don't know where she is any more than I do."
"You've gotta take my word that she's with me," Russ said.
"Oh, no." Bull grinned wisely. "Not when fifty grand's involved. I gotta be sure who I'm dealing with. I'll have to meet the babe."
Russ considered. The man had a point. Unless the three of them got together face to face, Russ would have no way of convincing him that the girl was really on Russ' side. The man might just decide to take his chances and refuse to pay.
"All right," Russ said finally. "You can meet Penny. But there's gonna be no stalling. We'll all get together thus afternoon and you've gotta have the money with you. You pay us spot cash and then we haul out of here. Gear enough?"
"Sure, Eddie."
"I'll get out now and grab a bus. This afternoon we can meet at your office." "That's out." "Where then?"
Bull thought it over. "Do you have a car?" "Yeah."
Bull said, "I've got a little place up in the mountains. It's not far from the city. I'll be parked along the road... say at about 2:30 this afternoon. Well go the rest of the way together."
"That seems like doing things the hard way," Russ told him. "Why go to all that trouble? We can meet somewhere here in town."
"Nope," Bull said. "The deal has gotta be private. That means no witnesses. You do it my way or it's no dice, understand?"
"Okay."
"And have the girl with you. That's the main thing." "You have the money and I'll have the cunt!" Bull nodded.
Russ got out of the car and walked along the sidewalk toward the nearest intersection. It was 57th Street and there was a taxi stand on the corner. He decided to take a As he glanced back in the direction of the man's car, he saw that it had been driven away. Russ made a mental note of the license number... just in case.
Russ was uneasy as he rode to the downtown hotel where he and Penny had a room. It wasn't the Schuyler, but a cheaper place south on lower Broadway.
The idea of meeting the fat man at an out-of-the-way location didn't really bother Russ. He was sure he could handle someone like this guy without any trouble. Still, there had been something about his manner.
In the first place, why in hell had he insisted on meeting up in the mountains? It was understandable that "Dave" would want to keep their deal as private as possible, but there were other places, near at hand, where they could get together. He was a crafty one, Russ thought. But what could he do?
Pull a gun maybe?
Russ would guard against that by frisking him as soon as they got together. He'd do it right on the road before "Dave" had a chance to try anything fancy. As long as they were just man-to-man, Russ would have nothing to worry about, he assured himself.
Penny wouldn't like the idea of meeting the man, Russ was sure of that. She'd be afraid. But Russ also knew that the girl would do what he told her to. He had her hooked so strongly that if he told her to walk up and down Fifth Avenue in her pink silk panties, she would do it.
He let his mind run ahead in time-past two thirty that afternoon to when he would have the man's fifty thousand in his hands. Then the whole world would be spread open to him.
He and Penny would buy a wardrobe first of all, and then they'd hop a jet for some place. Hell, this would give him a chance to see all the places in the world that he'd never be able to get to on the kind of wages he made.
Rome. That would be a good place to start. Penny would dig that too, he was sure.
But Penny wouldn't be with him every minute. Not in Rome anyway. No, sir. He'd see to that. Rome was one place where a man had to do some exploring on his own. Russ had heard a lot about the women over there and this would be his chance to see if what he'd heard was true.
Then it would be Paris, London and Athens. Maybe Switzerland. He'd always wanted to see Switzerland.
Then they'd spend some time in New York and, after that, maybe take in Acapulco. And later, the Far East. He'd heard interesting things about Japanese cunt, too.
It would be several months of big fun with the sky the limit and money enough to do whatever struck his fancy.
Russ grinned to himself as he entered the hotel room.
Penny was still undressed and had been waiting for him reading in bed. Well, they had a little time. He went over to the bed, kissed Penny, cupping her lush breasts at the same time. He enjoyed feeling her nipples harden between his fingers. He tore off his clothes and pulled off his shorts. She clutched him in bed as he decked her, her tits pressed against his chest. His loins felt the tantalizing thrill of her thighs and asscheeks squirming against his stiff prick.
Penny felt the urgency in his big, erect dong as her curved belly ground against Russ. As his strong hands clasped the lovely rounds of her shimmering buttocks, she guided him to her eager hot cuntlips. She shuddered with passion at his pile-driver thrusts into her vagina and then her cunt met his frigging cock in abandoned rhythm. Waves of supreme bliss rolled through her as Russ zoomed into a peak and his prick shot a terrific load of hot scum into her torrid, writhing cunt. She "came" too as she felt his semen scalding her vagina.
As they lay entwined in gasping bliss, Penny sighed, "I'm your woman, Russ, only yours."
Chapter Fourteen
"I'm enjoying the ride," Penny smiled leaning against Russ as he speeded up the Thru way. "But I don't know if I'm going to like what we find at the end of it."
"Don't worry, babe," Russ said grimly as he took the Peekskill exit. "I can take care of this slob with one hand tied behind my back. He knows better than to try and pull anything."
They drove on in silence for awhile as the road narrowed, and began to wind up and down the mountainous area.
"Take it easy," Russ advised her.
"Where is he going to meet us, anyway?" Penny said. 'This road's so narrow and there's a sheer drop at the side. We haven't seen any other cars since we turned off."
"Well be around this peak in a minute and probably into a little valley again. There ought to be a place to turn off there."
"Do you think he'll have the money with him, Russ?" Penny asked anxiously.
"I told you, baby, we've got nothing to worry about. He's gonna pay. He knows we can ruin him if he don't."
"This might be some kind of trick," Penny thought out loud.
Russ patted her again. "Just keep your pants on."
She giggled in spite of the nervousness she felt.
"Don't you remember? I'm not wearing any. You ought to know. You watched me get dressed."
"Yeah, that's right," he said. "You surprised me. I didn't figure you were the kind of gal who would go around that way."
"I'm not the girl I used to be, Russ. I've changed a lot since you and I met."
"Yeah?" He cuddled her. "How else have you changed baby?"
"Most of all, I've fallen in love with you. But you know that. I'm afraid I've gotten a little loose too. That bothers me some, Russ."
Russ kept watching the road, both hands back on the wheel as the Chevy negotiated a sharp curve. "Loose? How do you mean?"
"You know, sexually. But it's all right, I guess, because we love one another. And we're going to be married," she paused. When Russ said nothing, she added, "We are, aren't we Russ?"
"Sure, honey. Just as soon as we have the chance. I'm crazy about you, cupcake."
That made Penny feel better. The way he'd said it left no room for doubt in her mind. He did love her as strongly as she loved him. That was all she had to know.
"Hey! There he is!"
Penny saw the car at the same instant Russ spoke. They were in a pocket formed by a couple of slopes and the Chrysler was parked on a little dirt trail that seemed to head up one of the hillsides and get lost from sight among the tall trees.
Bull Zelman was seated behind the steering wheel but with his legs turned to the side and the front door of the car standing open. When he saw them, he motioned for them to follow. Then he turned on the seat and slammed the door closed. The Chrysler started up the steep road.
"Where in the world is he taking us?" Penny wanted to know.
"He said he has a cabin up here. I told you that. Now, take it easy, will you? If you act scared when we start talking with him, he may think he can bluff us."
"All right, darling," Penny murmured.
But she remained frightened, just the same. It was almost as if she had a premonition. This wasn't going to work out right, she thought. Suddenly she wondered why she was there-why she had let Russ talk her into doing this thing. The money wasn't worth it, she decided.
"Russ," she blurted, "let's go back!"
He gave her a quick look. He could take his eyes off the dusty torturous road for only a moment. "Go back! Are you nuts? We've got that fifty thousand bucks right in our hands."
"I don't think so, Russ. I don't think he's going to pay us. He's going to try something awful."
"Well, I can handle him, baby. Don't you worry about that!"
Russ, however, was mildly concerned, also. He decided that as soon as the other man stopped his car he would hop right out of the Chevy and get to the boy before he could try any funny stuff. If he had a gun, Russ would get hold of it before it could be used.
Just then they topped a bump where the dirt road curved behind some boulders. Ahead of them was the cabin-a rough structure which probably contained only a single room. The Chrysler had come to a stop a short distance from it and the man had already gotten out. He was walking toward them now.
Russ braked the Chevy quickly. "You stay here," he told Penny as he jumped out.
Russ half expected the other man to pull a gun on him. But he didn't do it. He only said, "What's the matter?"
"Stick your hands in the air," Russ told him. "I want to be sure about something before we go any further."
"What the hell is this?" Bull Zelman demanded. But he complied.
Russ moved up to him and felt up and down the outside of his clothes. "You're clean, I guess." Bull laughed. "You thought I was gonna gun you down or something, huh?"
"I just believe in being careful," Russ replied tightly.
"So do I, Eddie. So do I. That's why I wanted to meet up here." He was squinting in the direction of Russ' car. "Is that her?"
"That's her," Russ told him.
"Get her out. I want to see what she looks like. I also wanna see that birthmark on her leg. That's the only way I can identify her."
"Okay," Russ said and motioned for Penny to get out of the car.
She complied, moving slowly, her face reflecting the worry that she felt at that moment. She moved up to the two men.
Bull looked her over carefully. "So you're the one, huh, baby?"
Penny didn't say anything, but moved closer to Russ' side. The fat man's eyes gave her a chill. She remembered him, all right. There couldn't be the slightest doubt.
"Lift your skirt up," Bull said to her. "I've gotta be sure."
Penny hesitated, looking up at Russ. "He wants to see the birthmark," Russ told her. "It's all right."
Slowly Penny lifted her skirt. She hated to have to do it. The thick-set man's eyes were creepy.
Bull watched her legs gradually come into view as her skirt and slip rose higher and higher. He saw the tops of her stockings where her garters pulled against them. Then there was bare flesh, pleasantly tanned. Finally ...
He saw the birthmark. She was the girl.
"Okay, baby," he said. "You can drop it now." He looked at Russ. "Let's go into the cabin."
"Where's the money?" Russ demanded. "It's in the car," Bull replied. "I wanta have a little talk first. I wanta make sure you two are gonna play straight with me in this deal."
The man struck out ahead of them, passing between the trees and toward the rude structure. Penny clutched Russ' arm as they walked side-by-side.
"I'm afraid," she said. "Can't I go back to the car and wait for you?"
"It's better if we stay together," Russ told her.
They had passed the Chrysler, which the fat man had parked off to the side, and were nearing the cabin now.
Penny turned her head and gasped.
The man behind Russ was tall and gaunt. He had full lips which didn't seem to go with his thinness, and there was a scared look in his eyes. Several strands of his dark hair fluttered in the breeze as he stood grim-faced, head slightly bowed.
Russ' first impulse was to rush him. But he didn't do it. In the first place, the other man was holding a gun. It had been the pressure of the gun against Russ' back that had stopped him a few moments before. Also, the fear revealed by the gaunt man's eyes was the sort that led to acts of desperation. Russ had seen that look before.
"So you had to play wise," Russ said, ignoring the man with die gun and facing Bull, who had turned his back on the cabin and was walking toward them, a satisfied smile smeared across his face.
"Your timing was good, Vince," Bull said. "I was a little afraid you'd chicken out."
"I wouldn't do that, Mr. Zelman," Vince Nordland declared. "You been too good to me."
Russ still stared at the fat man. "Zelman, huh?"
"Sure. Bull Zelman. That's my name. I don't mind if you know it, 'cause it won't do either one of you any good."
At her first sight of the man with the gun, Penny had almost fainted. Though she had managed to cling to consciousness by a thread, terror had immobilized her completely.
Russ was hard-faced, intense. "This is crazy, Zelman. It would be better to pay us than to do this. Nobody can get away with three murders. And this time you're not alone, don't forget." He looked pointedly at the man who hulked beside him, holding the ugly black revolver high and very tightly in a bony hand. Vince's knuckles were beginning to show white.
At Russ' reference to "three murders," Penny had released a sharp sound.
Bull turned pale eyes on her. They were utterly cold. "Shut up! You holler, it's gonna go worse for you, understand?"
She stared at him, her eyes full of fright. But she was now silent.
Vince Nordland had been looking at her, lust replacing fear in his eyes. "This one's a real beauty," he said to the man.
"Yeah," Bull replied through an evil grin. "I think I'll let you enjoy her a little bit, Vince. How'd you like that, huh?"
Vince licked his thick lips.
Russ spoke up tensely: "You have no reason to kill me. I can't testify against you on that Lynbrook thing. Let me go and you'll never hear from me again."
"Russ!" Penny cried. Her voice had a desperate strangling quality. Bull laughed. "No dice, Eddie. By the way, what's your real name?"
"Russ Bates."
"Well, Russ Bates, I can't let you go because you could finger me for killing the broad here."
Penny gasped again. Then she shrieked Russ' name a second time.
"Shut her up!" Bull snapped at Vince.
The tall man moved behind Penny and encircled her with his long left arm. He pulled her back against him, then slipped his hand upward to clamp it over her mouth. He held the gun high in his hand keeping his eyes on Russ all the time.
Penny squirmed but Vince had the strength of a lean and hungry panther. All her resistence succeeded in accomplishing was to cause her back to move against him, creating considerable intimacy since she was wearing only a thin slip beneath her skirt. The man with the gun was enjoying himself, his cock was getting a free frigging.
"Shall we take 'em in the cabin, Mr. Zelman?" Vince asked.
"Might as well," Bull said and he began to turn in that direction. Then he stopped. "No. Wait. Kill the guy out here, then drag him off in the weeds. You can bury him later."
Russ tensed. Zelman meant to go through with it. There was no doubt about that.
Russ decided he would have to jump the gunman. He had better do it now, he thought, while the guy had one arm around Penny.
Vince's hand was covering Penny's mouth and Penny was trying to scream against it, but no sound came out. Fear was about to overcome her. She was growing light-headed.
"I ain't never killed anyone before," Vince said somewhat helplessly.
"But you've done other things almost as bad," Bull pointed out in a slyly sinister tone. "Don't forget, I know you Vince. I know things about you that the cops don't. And I've always treated you good. You just said so yourself."
"Yeah. Sure, Mr. Zelman."
"Then you'll do this for me, won't you, Vince?"
"I guess so," he conceded.
"Awright. That's enough talk. Take care of the guy right now."
In a climactic burst of energy that was bora of desperation, Penny tore herself free of the tall man's grip and spun away to the side. Vince lowered his gun hand for just a moment as his gaze swung from Russ to the girl.
This, Russ judged quickly, was his only chance. He rushed forward.
"Get him, Vince!" Bull yelled as Penny, off balance, stumbled and fell.
Vince jerked his gun back in Russ' direction, squeezing the trigger at the same time. The bullet missed, nipping the ground twenty feet away. Dust spewed into the air.
The two men crashed together, grappling, Russ trying desperately to get hold of the gun. The weapon was now between their bodies.
Once more a shot exploded.
The last thing Penny saw as she lay with her cheek against the dirt was Russ buckling forward, his face horrible and gasping, his hands groping at mid-air as Vince quickly backed out of reach.
She woke up on a cot in the cabin. The cot was covered with a sleazy foul-smelling blanket.
The gaunt man was kneeling beside her. He had lifted her dress and slip to her waist. "Hey she ain't wearin' pants!" he was saying, as he licked his lips while eyeing her exposed cuntlips.
Bull stood a few feet away, in the center of the crude room. He was leering. "Go ahead Vince. Fuck her. She's comin' out of it now. That'll make it even better for you."
"It's too bad to have to kill her, Mr. Zelman." Vince said running his fingers gently along her legs, "She sure is a nice piece of ass."
"I'll do that, Vince, if you don't have the stomach. You took good care of the guy out there. I really appreciate it. You'll see," "Russ ... Russ ..." Penny moaned. She was half-paralyzed with horror. Her mind could not fully grasp what had happened... what was still happening.
"Mmm she's purty," Vince said almost reverently as he stroked her knees.
Penny was aware that she still had her shoes and stockings on, and her garter-belt, in addition to her outer clothes. She moaned once more.
The tall skinny man was pressing her legs, hard.
Bull ordered. "Let's get this over with."
But Vince's hands were moving on her body, on top of her clothes. "I wanta see her titties first," he husked tensely. "I gotta see them, Mr. Zelman."
"Okay. Go ahead. But make it snappy." Bull was staring down at the spectacle before him, biting the shaft of a long green-skinned cigar.
Vince pulled at Penny's clothes.
Suddenly coming out of her near-paralytic state, the girl began to fight with savage desperation. She raised a stockinged leg against the man's middle and, at the same time, clawed at his face.
"Hey take it easy!" Vince protested stupidly, bobbing to try to protect himself. But he continued to press her down firmly against the bed and he still had a hold on the top of her dress, bony fingers inside her neckline.
Bull was laughing.
Penny squirmed frantically, beating at the man, trying to tear his flesh.
She heard her dress rip. It was open to her waist. Then the man was pulling at her brassiere.
"You little bitch," Vince said as he struggled and puffed against her face.
Painfully Penny felt her bra break open. The man was pawing at it. Now his hands were rubbing across her naked tossing tits.
"Hey, look at those knockers!" he grated and then he was pressing his face down against her breasts. Penny felt his thick lips.
She tore at his back. She dug her knees at him.
Nothing seemed to help. He was simply too big. She knew she must be hurting him with her nails, but he acted as if he didn't feel a thing. He was too intent on his slobbering attempt to rape her to think about anything else.
Now he had raised his head and he was moving at her.
Oh, God! she thought.
Vince pressed his huge erect prick at her. One of his sinewy hands forced her flailing legs aside and Penny screamed as he thrust his stiff dick into her cunt. She struggled for a moment and then went limp. She let Vince have his fuck, figuring that if she didn't fight him it would be over sooner. Vince made animal-like noises while he fucked lustily in and out of her twat with his big dong. He gave a loud groan as he shot a load of hot sperm into her unwilling vagina.
"I come real good baby, real good!" he muttered.
Bull Zelman had been watching the whole hump scene, grinning. But big tits were his weakness, and when he saw Penny's gorgeous breasts jiggling and fluttering under Voice's frigging body, his eyes popped.
"I'm taking a helping of those knockers!" Bull told Vince as he rolled off the cot.
Bull pinned Penny's shoulders down on the cot as she tried to rise. He put his grubby hands on her breasts and began to caress them. He pinched her jutting crimson nipples and laughed as she drew back in pain. Penny decided to let Bull Zelman get his fuck over with as fast as possible too. Zelman rammed his thick cock into her cunt savagely, playing with her big tits all the time. He moaned a little as he reached his orgasm, shot his hot semen into her twat too, laughed and said, "thanks for the ride baby," as he lifted himself off the cot.
Chapter Fifteen
Bull Zelman turned to Vince Nordland and said, "Okay. You finish her off now with the gun, and we'll bury the both of them together in the same hole. Maybe we'll put the stiff's cock in her cunt, so they'll have a fuck that'll last them forever! Romantic idea, ain't it?"
Bull's guffawing at his own joke stopped as he saw that Vince didn't move, but was still staring at the practically naked body of Penny on the cot.
"C'mon Vince, hurry it up. We've got to get back to town," he growled.
"No, I ain't gonna do it, Mr. Zelman. Least way's not right now, Vince said licking his lips. "Not until I have myself some more of that there piece of the best cunt I ever had in my life! Why don't you leave me here with her, I'll meet you at your office later tonight."
"You damned idiot," Zelman howled. "If you don't do it right now, I will!"
He made a motion to take the gun from Vince's giant hand. As Vince resisted, he locked him in a crushing bear hug - a Bull Zelman specialty.
As the men were struggling, Penny saw her chance and darted through the cabin door. Penny was running through the woods, nude. Only her shoes stockings and garter belt clung to her gleaming limbs as she ran for dear life. When she was about three hundred feet from the cabin, she heard a muffled shot as she plunged into the deep woods.
She had seen Russ lying dead outside where he had been dragged away from the clearing and in the leaves beneath a large tree. She had almost stumbled over him.
She hadn't touched him, however. She hadn't even stopped to look closely at him. Dimly she had remembered how he'd tried to bargain with the fat man and save himself while she was facing death. In the depths of her incoherent consciousness she realized that she hated him.
She had rushed on.
She hadn't thought of taking one of the cars near the cabin. She hadn't really thought at all. She had only wanted to get away.
She had wanted to run. To hide. To blot what had happened from her sight and mind. Now she was still running.
She didn't know how far she had come or where she was going. She didn't worry about getting lost. She didn't think of anything at all.
She only ran, stumbling blindly.
She slipped on some loose rocks on a hillside, but somehow kept her feet. She rocketed downward through the trees. Branches tore at her all-but-naked legs. One of her high heels broke off. Still she ran, now hobbling and reeling.
It happened that at that moment not far away two sometime fishermen lolled beside a stream, their poles and lines forgotten in favor of another activity which, as the afternoon wore on, had become more pleasurable than fishing.
By now they were very very drunk.
They lay back against the grass, surrounded by a litter of empty beer cans, and laughed raucously together as they exchanged the dirtiest stories that they knew.
One of them-called Fred-had black bushy hair and was of medium height. The other one, tall with a graying crew-cut, was named, Doug. They were mechanics who lived in Peekskill with their wives and children and worked in an industrial plant. This week they were on vacation.
Normally they were law-abiding men. But now they were drunk. And they were isolated from society-alone in a world of sky and trees, birds and insects, with only the gurgle of a stream and the fluttering of leaves to break the silence. Not counting, of course, their own voices-now slurred and punctuated by lascivious laughter as they tried to out-do one another in telling filthy jokes.
Into their world suddenly burst Penny.
Fred sat up, eyes staring. "What the livin' hell is this?" he exclaimed thickly.
"A wood nymph," Doug repeated, sounding as if he had a mouthful of hot potatoes. "An' she's as naked as a blue jay!"
"Man alive!"
"Please ..." Penny murmured again as she staggered up to them. She fell to one knee.
"Whassamatter, baby?" Doug asked, extending a hand out toward her. It wavered. "You have a %ht with your boy friend?"
"Thas it, Doug," the other one said through a gurgling laugh. "He got her up here in the woods, tore her clothes and "then she wouldn't fuck for him." He shook his finger at her. "Thass no good, baby. Mustn't hold out on giving pussy like that. It ain't nice for a girl to act that way, is it, Fred?" He laughed again.
"She must be a damn teaser, huh, Fred?"
"Man, alive! She's really stacked." Fred had gotten onto his hands and knees and he was crawling toward her. "Look at them knockers of hers, Doug, Will yuh?"
"An' the rest of her, too" Doug chimed in.
He had positioned himself beside his buddy and he also was on hands and knees. Penny was half-kneeling before them thoughtlessly exposing her tits and cunt.
Penny was only half-aware of her surroundings and of the men. Her mind was .still numb from the terrible series of shocks she had received at the cabin-the sudden appearance of Vince Nordland with gun in hand, the faithlessness of Russ. Russ' violent death, her man-handling by Bull and Vince, her escape ... It had been enough to shake the sanity of anyone.
And now these strange men were creeping up on her. She didn't understand. She murmured something unintelligible.
One of the men-the dark one-laughed. He kept coming closer. "Thas' all right, Li'l chicken. Li'l plucked chicken." He laughed again.
"Maybe she'll give us the hot cunny she wouldn' give her boy friend, huh, Fred?" the other one said beside him. "Maybe she likes the pricks of guys who're a little older."
"You think so, pappy?" Fred chortled.
They had reached her now. Their fingers were touching her bare arms.
Terror was closing its grip on Penny once more. She couldn't seem to understand. She felt as if she might be dreaming-as if everything that happened might have been a dream She didn't cry out. She didn't move. She stared. And then she began to whimper.
The dark man, Fred, reached for her big breasts-grasped one and lifted it as if he were picking an apple off a bough. "Hey ... zinga! Tha's what I call a real nice piece of titty. What's you say, boy?"
Doug grasped and lifted the other one. "A pretty nice handful." He sniggered.
"Please ..." Penny breathed as she fell forward on one arm. Her lush tits were dangling downward. Again they were in the men's hands and the men were shaking them loosely back and forth. She couldn't fight. She couldn't do a thing to protect herself.
The men were pressing against her now-both of them at once. She smelted their strong breaths, but couldn't identify what the aroma reminded her of. She lost her balance and rolled over on her back on the grass.
"Maan ... maaan ..." one of them was breathing as he crawled near her, "will you looka that twat of hers ..."
"Don't," she said weakly.
The man laughed.
The other one, who was beside her and rubbing his hand back and forth across the hobbling nakedness of her breasts, said, "Maybe we shouldn't Fred. Maybe we ... " "Shut up!" Fred cracked, now very serious. "I'm gonna try myself some of this here free pussy!"
"Well ... save a piece of ass for me, daddy," the other one said, no longer interested in arguing.
Penny wanted to cry, but she couldn't. She couldn't even talk. She saw the dark man moving closer to her, holding a huge erect cock in one hand. He grunted. She cried out, as she felt that big prick entering her abused cunt.
And that was all she knew.
"She's passed out!" Fred exclaimed, staring dumbly at her now-passive face.
"You think maybe she's sick?" asked Doug tensely.
"Naw, jus' liquored up. You know these damn young kids." And with that he began to ram his big dong in and out of her cunt with the eagerness of a hound-dog going on a scent.
Penny woke up suddenly. She screamed and beat at him with her fists.
Fred was letting the girl's blows fall where they would. There wasn't enough force in them to hurt him.
"Oooh-ee!" he yelled in exultation, as he came and shot a tremendous load of hot scum into her cunt.
Then Penny suddenly stopped fighting.
Something had happened ma which she had no control. She was in the grip of an elemental force which transcended reason as she felt herself aroused by his ejaculation of hot semen into her twat...
A rock gouged her in the back but she paid no attention to it.
"No ... no ..." she said.
The man was twitching, in the last throes of his "come".
"No!" Penny cried out, deprived of what she now needed for her aroused cunt.
The other man, was near her. "Don't worry, baby," he muttered. "Old Doug will fix you up. Yes, sir-ee!"
This man had an even bigger and stronger cock than his friend.
"Ooh!" Penny cried.
"Yeah, baby!" the man answered, as he thrust his dick in to the very hilt in her warm, slippery vagina.
She threw her arms around his back.
"Hey," she heard the other one yell, "that's no fair! She didn't fuck like that for me!"
"She knows a real man's cock when she sees one, don't you, baby?" Doug exclaimed.
Penny answered, "Yes! Yes!" Her mind was blank-totally blank. She couldn't think, she could only feel his tremendous penis going in and out of her raped cunt.
"Good, baby?" she heard the man demand in a growl. "You like that, huh?"
"Oh, yes! Yes!"
"Better fucking than the punk kid who brought you out here, I'll bet."
"Just fuck me!!" Her voice sounded like someone else's, spoken from a distance.
"I am screwing you, you sweet cunt!"
The other voice said, "Man, look at them fuck!"
The man groaned.
"I want to fuck that babe again!" the other said.
"She's got enough hump in that twat for an army!"
Now he was closer against her, his arms clasping her. The rock wasn't gouging her any more.
Wild fucking excitement had her in its grasp. She gave herself over to their raping cocks completely. Sweet, sweet hell!
Suddenly the whole world seemed to come apart. Great voluptuous waves rolled through her, shaking the very foundations of her being, she shrieked hysterically in the throes of a "come" that seemed as if it would never end.
Her mind seemed to be wavering in tempo with the response. She felt consciousness slipping.
Then there was nothing at all.
Doug was laughing to himself as he walked away from the girl's writhing cunt that he had just shot his load into.
Fred cursed as he prepared to thrust his cock into her vagina again.
"How d'you like that?" he demanded. "Both times when she has to put out her pussy for me she's out like a light."
"Some us got what it takes, daddy," Doug said, "an' some of us ain't."
Fred began by thrusting his cock in her cunt anyway and screwing like a wild man.
Penny didn't know a thing.
"Miss? Miss?"
The face shimmered in front of her like a reflection in water. It was a woman's face, with a white cap perched on graying hair.
A hand was gently shaking her shoulder. "Miss?"
Penny made a sound.
The hand left her shoulder. The face receded. From a distance she heard, "Doctor, she's regaining consciousness."
The face of a man now loomed above her. He was homely-big nosed with glasses, a dark blemish on one cheek. He wore a white gown which made her think of a hospital.
She turned her head and saw tight green walls. There was a plain uncurtained window, its mates drawn up.
She looked down at herself. She was wearing a hospital gown, too. She was in a white metal bed.
"How do you feel?" the man asked. He paused, looking at her intently. "Can you talk?"
She tried to. Only a slight sound came out.
"You're Penny Williams? Is that right?"
Penny Williams. She thought about that. Somehow it seemed familiar, but she wasn't sure. She was very confused.
The man bent closer. "Are you Penny Williams?" His voice was slower, more distinct this time.
She turned away from him.
When she looked up again, he was gone.
He had called her Penny Williams. The name kept repeating senselessly in her brain.
She was in a hospital. Why? What had happened? She tried to think back and found she couldn't. She couldn't remember anything.
Coming through the door into her room was a kindly-faced man, his complexion browned from long exposure to the sun. He was gray-haired and wore dark-rimmed glasses. He said, "Penny?"
The man in the hospital smock moved in front of the other one, grasped Penny by the shoulders and eased her down against the bed once more. "You have to rest, young lady. You've had quite a time."
The white-clad man stepped away.
"Higdon?" The other one was speaking again. "Don't you recognize me? It's Mr. Higdon."
"Mr. Higdon?" she repeated tonelessly.
The kindly lawyer was relieved as she looked at him, at least Penny could talk. He tried to tell her what had happened to her.
"Penny," he continued, "Sheriff Jim Nervell told me that the New York State Troopers contacted him after they found you in the woods. Do you remember what happened at all?"
Penny shook her head silently and then tears rolled down her cheek.
Higdon looked at the doctor standing nearby and said, "Maybe if I fill her in on some of the things which occurred, it will help her memory come back."
The doctor nodded assent and the attorney continued, "Some characters who wouldn't give their names called the State police and said there was a naked girl wandering around near Pine Mountain. It seems the State Troopers found you just in time. Bull Zelman was in the vicinity with a loaded gun, looking to finish you off. When the troopers found the bodies of two men near the cabin, he confessed to killing Vince Nordland and Valerie Desmond. But he claims that Vince Nordland shot the man identified as Russ Bates."
When- Higdon mentioned Russ Bates, Penny was wracked with sobs.
The lawyer took another try.
"As soon as you feel a little better Penny, I'm taking you out of here. You can rest up at home in Lynbrook and come back to your job in the office. Why, you're a young girl-in six months all this will be just a bad memory."
He moved towards the doors and continued, "There's someone from Lynbrook here to see you right now."
Jack Brooks, carrying a box of candy and a bouquet of flowers stepped hesitantly into the room. He approached the bed and handed Penny the colorful blossoms saying; "Penny, dear, I may not deserve it, but I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive the things I said and did. I've been blaming myself for a lot that's happened ever since that night. Do you think we can get together again."
Penny smiled and took the flowers in her hands slowly. As memories came flooding back, she knew that all she could ever do now was carry on from where she had left off-and it might turn out pretty good, after all.
