"Are you stretched out on the bed?" the caller inquired.
"Yes."
"So am I," he said breathily. "I wish you could see me, sweetheart. You'd like my slim hips and my broad shoulders. I'm running my hands all over your shoulders, honey," he rambled on. "And now my hands are moving down to those two breathtaking cones ... cupping them, caressing them..."
As the voice went on, Gwen found herself responding to the hypnotic voice, found herself moving subtly and sensuously on the big bed.
Who in the world could this long-distance lover be?? ?
PART ONE
1
It was a warmish Tuesday night in early July when Gwen Gordon's past and present indiscretions began to catch up with her....
Shortly before seven o'clock on that eventful evening, Gwen swivel-hipped up the stairs of the luxurious, two-story house in which she lived. The flame-haired beauty was twenty-three years of age, slightly taller than six-feet-one, and her incredibly voluptuous body might well have been dreamed up by a sex-starved sailor on a deserted island. She had big, firm breasts, exquisitely proportioned, and her bust strained a tape at forty-five inches. Her trim waist measured a snug twenty-eight. Her lush, curving hips were thirty-seven. And her long, shapely legs were comparable to those in Petty's calendar drawings.
Upon reaching the top of the stairs, the magnificent Amazon strolled languidly toward a nearby door and sashayed into the master bedroom. The chamber was spacious, expensively furnished, and boasted a small balcony on the south side of the house. But the focal point of the room was a huge, canopied bed. It was eight feet long and eight feet wide, and the underside of its green canopy featured a pink-tinted mirror which reflected every square inch of the broad expanse below.
To Gwen, the room seemed unusually warm for this time of evening. She ambled toward the French doors which led to the balcony. Opening the doors wide, she stepped out on the balcony and breathed in a lungful of smog-laden air. Then, for several moments, she stood there gazing thoughtfully at her rustic surroundings.
The costly hideaway was located in a remote section of Coldwater Canyon, several miles north of Beverly Hills. Tall hills rose sharply behind the redwood structure, and the smallish grounds were enclosed by wall-like rows of trees. Neither the house nor the grounds could be spotted from the nearby road. Indeed, this was an ideal love nest, Gwen mused dreamily, gazing at the red-blossomed bougainvillea vines which literally covered the south side of the building.
With a nostalgic smile, the curvaceous redhead recalled the first time she'd come out here with Big Buck Dixon. Oh, what a night! As soon as they emerged from his Cad, the giant-like man had crushed her inside his strong arms, started kissing her hotly. Then, within a very few seconds, they began straining against each other in a primitive dance of raw lust.
Just thinking about that wonderful night caused little ripples of excitement to course through Gwen's body. Big Buck Dixon had turned out to be a dream come true in more ways than one. Besides being a romantic lover, he was the first man she'd ever found who could satisfy her completely. He was as rapacious as she, liked sex as frequently and as savagely. What's more, his build even surpassed that of the ideal man in her daydreams.
Without doubt, Gwen reflected blissfully, she and Buck were made for each other. No other man could please her as he did; no other woman could please him as she did. And neither could ever get enough of the other. Both were positive of it.
Sighing, the tall redhead glanced down at her diamond-studded wristwatch. The tiny hands pointed to seven o'clock ... and her lover wasn't due until nine-thirty. Her wide, green eyes contracted with misery. Another two and a half hours to wait. An eternity, almost. To kill time, she decided to nap until eight-fifteen, then take a leisurely bath. By the time she finished grooming herself, she reflected, her beloved should arrive. And then--! Even the thought of Buck's love-making did exciting things to her man-hungry body.
Gwen stepped back inside the bedroom, leaving the French doors open wide. Kicking off her shoes, she began undressing. She didn't have to worry about neighbors seeing her disrobe; the nearest house was a quarter of a mile down the road.
The luscious young woman shrugged out of her form-fitting blue dress and threw it upon the small chair in front of her dressing table. Next, she unfastened her bra and tossed it aside. And then her panties followed. A moment later, she stretched out on the huge bed and glanced up at the pink-tinted mirror overhead. Soon, she mused with eager anticipation, she'd be gazing up at the reflection of Buck's broad back and his slim, powerful hips. She could hardly wait to draw him tight against her body.
Within a short time, Gwen drifted off to sleep. But her slumber was not deep and peaceful. After a while, she dreamed that Buck's wife had changed her mind about giving him a quick divorce. Then she dreamed that Buck changed his mind about wanting to marry her as soon as possible. This nightmare wakened her abruptly.
For several breathless moments, Gwen lay there in the now-dark room and reviewed the frightening dream. Then, suddenly, her thoughts were distracted by the sound of a car on the nearby road. Could that be Buck? Had she overslept?
Swinging her long legs over the side of the bed, the big, nude redhead switched on a bedside lamp. Upon glancing at her wristwatch, she let out a sigh of relief. It was only eight-twenty. Seconds later, the sound of the car began fading into the distance. She dismissed it from her thoughts.
Rising to her feet, Gwen hurried into the adjoining bathroom. There, humming gaily, she began preparations for her bath. Soon, now, Buck would be coming....
* * *
Nearby, a convertible turned off the dusty side road and eased to a halt in a grove of scrubby oak trees. Darkness concealed the driver's face. Immediately after cutting the engine, the masculine form pulled an expensive camera from the glove compartment, stepped down to the ground and started creeping toward the house in which Gwen Gordon lived.
Soon, the skulking figure passed through the wall-like barrier of trees which ringed the grounds of the remote hideaway. The intruder paused momentarily, surveying the scene beyond. Bright light poured from the windows of the master bedroom on the second floor of the redwood structure. And the balcony doors stood open wide.
With a deep-throated grunt of delight, the malevolent trespasser darted toward the house. Heavily-trellised bougainvillea vines covered this side of the building, and climbing up to the balcony presented no difficulty at all. Not even with a camera in one hand....
* * *
Shortly after nine o'clock, the flame-haired Amazon emerged from the bathroom and paused in front of the full-length mirror on the door. Humming softly, she vigorously toweled her naked body until every square inch tingled and glowed. Then she strolled past the French doors, her mammoth breasts jiggling delightfully with each step she took.
Sitting nude at the dressing table, Gwen penciled her eyebrows lightly, then applied the merest touch of color to her full, red lips. Next, she reached for her favorite perfume. Sparingly, she dabbed the heady scent upon all the places that Buck liked to nuzzle-on the lobes of her ears, at the base of her throat, in the deep cleft between her jutting breasts, in her navel, along her silken thighs, and the soft flesh back of her knees.
Afterward, she combed her fiery hair, then rose to her feet and sway-hipped over to the closet. Sliding back one of its doors, she reached inside and pulled out a green negligee. She put it on, struggled to fasten it. Her lush curves strained against the tight-fitting garment, and her fabulous breasts threatened to burst through the flimsy material. It was extremely sheer, leaving almost nothing to the imagination.
At fifteen minutes past nine, Gwen strolled over to the bed and stretched out on its broad surface. Dreamily, her thoughts returned to Big Buck Dixon. Imagine him being madly in love with her, wanting to marry her. He could have almost any woman in the entire country, just for the asking. It was his appeal to women which had made him one of Hollywood's top TV stars, and which was responsible for his weekly adventure series being at or near the top of the ratings during the past five years. The very mention of his name had a magical effect upon most women, and the sight of him caused teen-age girls to squeal hysterically.
Gwen smiled to herself. Buck's female fans would really have conniptions if they knew how terrific he was in bed. What a stallion he was! And he belonged to her. body and soul.
Actually, Gwen reflected, Buck couldn't even remotely be considered good-looking. His face was far too nigged. However, old Mother Nature had been overly generous to him in other ways. He stood six feet and six inches tall, and he had a magnificent physique. Just visualizing it made Gwen squirm inwardly. Buck's shoulders were almost as broad as a door ... his chest unusually wide and heavily muscled ... his hips slender, and his buttocks small and sinewy ... and his legs were extremely long and powerful. Even the mental picture of Buck excited her greatly. She began writhing with uncontrollable desire, hardly able to wait for her beloved's arrival.
Then, a few moments later, Gwen's lascivious thoughts were scattered by the sound of a car on the nearby road. Intuitively, she knew it was Buck's Cad. Her mammoth breasts began rising and falling breathlessly. Very soon, now, Buck's giant-like frame would be against her passionately, savagely the way she liked best. Deep tremors began coursing through her agonized body.
From a concealed position on the balcony, sex-crazed eyes watched Gwen Gordon squirming about on her bed. The peeper drooled with overwhelming desire for the voluptuous, man-hungry Amazon. What a maddening sight to watch. In fact, it required almost superhuman restraint to keep still ... to resist the frantic urge to dash inside the bedroom and pounce upon the redhead's luscious, writhing body.
Suddenly, the engrossed trespasser became aware of an approaching car. It turned off the nearby road, sped up to the front of the house and skidded to a halt. The masculine form drew back into the shadows, focused a camera upon the massive bed inside. If the bedroom lights were left on, as usual, the fast film in the camera should turn out some very clear pictures of the action to come.
2
Hopping out of his white Cad, Big Buck Dixon hurried inside the redwood house and mounted the stairs two steps at a time. Then, with long, eager strides, the huge man headed toward the master bedroom. He could hardly wait to gather Gwen's statuesque body into his arms, caress each delectable curve and plane, and then make love to her until exhaustion.
Just before Buck reached the bedroom door, it flew open and Gwen rushed forward to greet him. Grinning broadly, he enfolded the big woman in his arms and drew her close against the length of him. Her full, firm breasts pushed tightly against his chest. Their lips crushed together in a long, fiery kiss, and desire consumed him like living flame. He shuddered with mounting anticipation.
"Hello, Big Mama," he breathed jerkily, after releasing her feverish lips.
"Oh-h, Big Daddy." Her voice was husky with emotion, and she clung to him fervently.
"All day long," he murmured, "I've been thinking about this moment and counting the hours."
"I've been counting the minutes," she whispered, running her hands over his back possessively.
Buck nuzzled her cheek. "I love you ... need you."
"Say it again," Gwen sighed blissfully.
He did, with even more tenderness. Then, he sought her mouth once more, kissed her again and again. Their kisses soon grew demanding, and they began moving urgently against each other, performing a savage dance of lust.
Still kissing and embracing passionately, they moved slowly into the bedroom. As they neared the huge bed, Buck released Gwen and unfastened the front of her negligee. Her big, jutting breasts swung wild and free. As always, he caught his breath in admiration. Instinctively, he licked his lips.
At the same time, Gwen was not standing idle With impatient fingers, she unbuttoned his shirt and then helped him strip. Buck chuckled to himself. It took much longer to undress when Gwen "helped" him. But he loved each second of it ... every kiss and caress.
Finally, after kicking his shorts aside, Buck scooped up Gwen's nude body and placed it in the center of the king-sized bed. Then he stretched out beside her, raised up on an elbow. She took his face between her hands, drew it down to her face. Their lips met and clung together in a lingering kiss. His free hand moved over her warm flesh ... exploring, caressing, teasing, exciting. She squirmed, caressed him lovingly.
Buck blazed a trail of fiery kisses down her throat, then nestled his face in the deep valley between her mountainous breasts. Moments later, his lips moved up a towering hillock, surmounted its peak. He teased it until it grew rigid. And then he moved over to the other hillock, his lips warm-sliding up to its summit.
"Oh, honey!" the big redhead soon gasped, urging him on, "I can't stand it any longer!"
Slowly, carefully, the big man eased himself down upon her trembling body. Then he paused a few moments, kissing her warmly, until her tongue began darting into his mouth. Her hot breath pulsed against his face as she strained toward him.
Within a very short time, Gwen began moaning and twisting with unrestrained delight.
"Oh, honey," she gasped deliriously, biting at his lips.
He tried to make it even better for her, and apparently he succeeded. Her uninhibited response almost drove him out of his mind. The blissful tension built and built and built, and then he shuddered violently like a volcano.
Afterward, Buck slumped down beside Gwen and pulled her limp body close to his own. Neither spoke for a time. While gazing at the Amazon's reflection in the mirror overhead, he fondled her exquisite breasts, stroked the sweeping curve of her hip, caressed her taut, well-fleshed buttocks.
"A penny for your thoughts," Gwen murmured.
A broad grin spread across Buck's rugged face. "I was imagining what it would be like after we get married."
"Tell me."
"I'll want you when I wake up in the morning," he said huskily, "and I'll want you to have lunch with me at the studio every day in my dressing room." He paused, chuckling softly. "It'll take me only five minutes to eat and the remainder of the hour can be spent on the couch. Then, as soon as I get home from work each day, I'll want you again."
"Um-m-m, it sounds wonderful."
"That's only the beginning," Buck said, his eyes twinkling devilishly. "Just wait until we go to bed for the night. You won't be getting much sleep, I warn you."
"I promise," he laughed, kissing the tip of her nose. "I can hardly wait until we can be together all the time."
"How much longer will it be?"
"Not long, now." His wife, Sheilah, had been haggling over the settlement for more than a month. "Today," he reported, "my attorney phoned to say that Sheilah had accepted my last offer. She's going to sign the papers on Friday and fly to Reno on Saturday."
"Is that definite?" Gwen asked anxiously.
"Yep," he nodded, his eyes twinkling again. "And as soon as the divorce is granted, we can rush down to City Hall and pick up our bedroom license."
"Oh, Buck!" she said reprovingly. "Is that all that our marriage would mean to you?"
"You know better than that, don't you?" He kissed her tenderly, "I love you, Big Mama. Oh, how I love you!"
Once again, Gwen sighed blissfully, Raising up on an elbow, she leaned forward and nestled her face against his throat. "I'll never stop loving you," she vowed fervently. "Just wait and see!"
As if to prove her sincerity, she began kissing and caressing him ardently. Soon, her thrilling lips infused him with throbbing desire. He squirmed with the sweet agony, started to turn her over on her back. But Gwen refused to be turned. She pushed him down on his back, pressing her breasts tightly against his chest.
"I'll never let you go," she breathed in a throaty whisper. "I'm going to make it so good for you that you won't be able to live without me."
"Show me," he teased.
She did aggressively.
* * *
It was two-thirty in the morning when Buck, weak-kneed with exhaustion, stumbled across the room and gathered his clothing. Yawning mightily, he began to dress.
"I wish you could stay all night," Gwen sighed, dropping down on the bed and stretching luxuriously.
"You don't wish it any more than I do," he assured her. "But there'd be hell to pay if I stayed away from my hotel suite all night long. The local gossip columnists would be tipped off first thing in the morning-and then they'd start watching me like hawks. I know those birds. They get kicks out of digging up scandal. And if they can't dig something up, they hint at it which is almost as bad."
"I know."
"Besides, if Sheilah even suspected there was another woman in the picture...."
"Surely the columnists know about your being out late every evening. But I haven't seen it mentioned in any of the papers."
"I'm supposed to be visiting a buddy who lives out this way," Buck smiled. "Rumor has it that I'm pretty broken up about the forthcoming divorce, and my buddy is supposed to be holding my hand every even--. ing."
"I'll break your buddy's neck if he tries to hold your hand," Gwen said with mock indignation.
Buck laughed. "You needn't worry."
"This friend of yours can you trust him?"
"Implicitly. I helped him out of a jam once."
Gwen pursed her lips thoughtfully. "How much does he know about us?"
"Very little, actually. He knows I'm shacking up with some dame, but he doesn't know who nor how serious I am about you."
"Are you afraid to mention my name to him?" Gwen probed, watching him closely.
Buck knew what she meant. The shapely Amazon's reputation was more than a little tarnished. Gossip had it that she'd slept with half of the producers in Hollywood and she had admitted to him that the gossip was true.
"No, I'm not afraid just careful. So far as I'm concerned, I don't give a damn how many men you've slept with in the past. And I figure it's nobody's business." He grinned broadly. "I intend seeing to it that you won't want any other men in the future."
Again, Gwen stretched luxuriously. "That's for sure, honey."
Buck pulled on his coat, then sat down on the edge of the bed. "See ya tomorrow evening," he mumbled, kissing her lips tenderly.
"I'll be waiting," she murmured, a moment later, when he released her mouth.
"I love you."
Gwen sighed deeply, gave him a final squeeze. "I'll be counting the minutes, darling."
"Good night, Big Mama."
"Good night, Big Daddy." Reluctantly, Buck rose to leave. With equal reluctance, Gwen let him go.
* * *
A few seconds earlier, out on the balcony, the malevolent spy eased over the railing and carefully descended to the ground. Later, after Buck departed, the slightest noise might bring the busty redhead out on the balcony to investigate. And that must not happen.
Camera in hand, the trespasser hurried across the moonlight lawn, bubbling with excitement and exhilaration. Big Buck Dixon and Gwen Gordon had put on a terrific show inside the bedroom with all of the lights on. Man alive; the exposed film in the camera must be sizzling and melting! Talk about hot stuff--!
3
On the following Friday evening, shortly after seven o'clock, Gwen Gordon strolled into the bedroom and opened the French doors. Stepping outside on the balcony, she glanced down at her wristwatch. Since Buck wasn't due until ten tonight, she had almost three hours to wait. A wretched sigh escaped her petulant lips.
Restlessly, the big redhead ambled back into the bedroom. After kicking off her shoes, she stripped to the skin and sway-hipped over to the huge, canopied bed. With another wretched sigh, she dropped down upon the bright green coverlet and gazed up at the reflection of her nude body. She wasn't admiring herself, although she had every right to do so. Wistfully, she was pretending that Buck was with her, and she was watching him caress her breasts and her thighs ... while his fiery lips enflamed her with pulsating desire.
A few seconds later, Gwen's ecstatic reverie was dispelled by the jangling of the telephone on the bedside table. More than likely, that would be Buck calling. Perhaps he didn't have to work late tonight, after all! Breathless with hope, she snatched up the receiver.
"Hello," she said eagerly.
"Hello, Gwen," answered a masculine voice. "How are you, babe?"
"I'm fine." She frowned in puzzlement. "Who is this?"
"Can't you tell?"
The voice sounded a little familiar, somehow, but she couldn't place it. "I'm sorry," she began, "but."
"Take a guess," the voice cut in, laughing. "Really, I have no idea."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm positive," she said firmly. "Who is it."
"You should know."
"Well, I don't." Her voice was edged with irritation. "Think hard," he insisted.
"Now, listen," Gwen said curtly, losing her patience, "-I'm in no mood for guessing games. I don't know who you are, and I'm going to hang up if you persist-"
"You'll be sorry, sweetheart."
Gwen's frown deepened. Could it be Buck at the other end of the line? She didn't think he'd waste his valuable time on a senseless gag. Besides, the voice didn't sound even remotely like Buck's. Then, too, the man's last statement had sounded more threatening than teasing.
"Oh, come on now," she pleaded, "who is this?"
"Let's just say that I'm a howling he-wolf who is very hot for you Big Mama."
Surprised and startled, Gwen stared foolishly at the receiver. Only Buck had ever called her Big Mama. And he hadn't told anyone about their intimate lives-not even his best friend. Could this be Buck, after all?
"I wish I was there with you right this minute," the deep voice went on in husky tones. "I'd work on those big knockers of yours until you got all squirmy, babe, and I'd get you so hot and bothered that you'd beg for my loving." His jerky breathing grew louder and louder. "I'd thrill you as you've never been thrilled before, doll baby. Believe me! After I got through with you, you'd never again be satisfied with anyone else not even Big Buck Dixon."
Gwen stifled a gasp. The receiver slipped from her fingers and fell to the floor. She was positive that Buck would never say such things on the telephone. Trembling with alarm, she picked up the receiver and dropped it back in its cradle. Then, before she could gather her scattered wits, the telephone rang again.
For several moments, the frightened redhead stared fearfully at the jangling instrument. Should she answer the persistent summons? Or should she ignore it? Confusion engulfed her. She couldn't make up her mind as to which course of action would be wisest.
Suddenly, the ringing ceased. Gwen heaved a deep sigh of relief. She needed time to think. But the reprieve was short-lived. Within seconds, the telephone began jangling again. Almost insistently.
One minute passed; then two. And still the ringing continued. Gwen endured it as long as she could. Finally, gritting her teeth, she picked up the receiver.
"Hello," she murmured apprehensively.
"You didn't think anyone knew about you and Big Buck Dixon, did you?" the intimate masculine voice went on as if there had been no interruption.
"If this is some kind of gag, it isn't at all funny." She spoke with far more bravado than she felt. "I don't have the slightest idea what you're talking about."
"The hell you don't!" the caller laughed. "I happen to know that you two have been going at it as if there wasn't going to be any tomorrow. Not that I blame Dixon in the least. If I had the chance, babe, I'd have you on your back twenty-four hours a day."
"Now, really--! " she exclaimed, her temper flaring.
"You'd love every minute of my loving, you gorgeous doll." The heavy breathing grew even more jerky. "I'd keep you moaning and squealing and squirming and-"
"Listen, you sonofabitch!" Gwen cut in, shaking with anger. "Enough is enough. And don't bother me any more, do you hear? If you call again, I'm going to notify the police and ask them to-"
"You're not going to do a damned thing," the man interrupted, his voice ringing with confidence. "As a matter-of-fact, I dare you to call the cops."
"W-what do you mean by that?" she stammered, her anger dissipated by a swelling wave of uncertainty.
"If you get smart with me, babe, I'll louse up Buck Dixon's forthcoming divorce but good. And I'll ruin his career, too. Forever."
Gwen swallowed with difficulty. "H-how could you?"
"All I'd have to do is to mail some torrid pictures to Buck's wife, to the local newspapers, and to the cops. Just for a start. Later, I'd distribute copies across the entire country. And I don't mean perhaps, either."
"The best kind, doll. Action pictures. In fact, they're so hot that they're burning my hands right now." He laughed coarsely. "No wonder everyone calls him Big Buck Dixon!"
"I I don't believe Buck has ever posed for any such pictures," Gwen faltered.
On the contrary, however, she was afraid that Buck might have done so, for money, when he was struggling to get into the movies or TV. She had known other aspiring actors who had posed for lewd photographs ... some who had been supported by aging women or gay men ... and some had even appeared in pornographic movies.
"Who said anything about Buck posing for these pictures?" the anonymous caller chuckled. "You never saw such 'unposed' pictures in all your life!"
"I I don't understand."
"This may come as a shock to you, doll baby but you're in the pictures, too."
Gwen gasped. "That's impossible!"
"No, it isn't," the man chortled with delight. "In fact, it was surprisingly easy to climb up to your balcony and photograph the action going on in the bedroom. Thanks for leaving all the lights on, babe. All of the pictures turned out sharp and clear. In short, they're sensational!"
"I d-don't believe you," she stuttered. But she was terribly afraid....
"I had a hunch that you'd want proof," he laughed, "so I mailed some copies to you this afternoon. They should arrive tomorrow. Then you can see for yourself."
Fear consumed the redhead, paralyzing her.
"Talk about hot stuff!" the man exclaimed exuberantly. "I think these pictures will curl your hair, honey. Some of them show Dixon making love to you. Some of them show you making love to him. But the most interesting shots were taken after you two got out of bed and started fooling around. Man oh, man!" He started detailing various incidents.
Gwen paled, and her stomach began churning with queasiness. Without doubt, the anonymous caller knew what he was talking about. Panic rode her like a saddle.
"I imagine you had some purpose in mind when you came out here prepared to take pictures," she said, holding her breath fearfully.
"I didn't bring the camera along on my first couple of trips. In the beginning, babe, I just wanted to watch you undress at night. I wanted to see you in the nude to find out if you were as terrific as I thought." He paused briefly. "I got the surprise of my life when I found Big Buck Dixon jazzing it up with you."
"But about the pictures," Gwen persisted, "would I be wrong in assuming that you'd like to sell them to me and Buck?"
"You'd be dead wrong, honey. I'm not about to risk any encounter with the police. Besides, money isn't important to me. There are other things in life that interest me far more. For instance you."
Gwen stiffened. "Do you mean what I think you mean?"
"I'm afraid not," the man sighed unhappily. "I'd like nothing more than to exchange the pictures for the privilege of making love to you whenever I pleased but that wouldn't be wise, either. Dammit!"
"Then what do you want?" She was completely mystified.
"I just want to talk to you on the telephone, darling."
Gwen couldn't believe her ears. "Is that all?"
"Not quite, sweetheart," he said huskily. "I want you to pretend that I'm your lover. And I want to make love to you over the telephone. Passionate love."
"Are you serious?" she asked, her wide green eyes filled with astonishment. "I mean are you saying that you won't tell anyone about me and Buck, or show tile pictures, if I'll let you make love to me over the telephone?"
"That's right, babe. Is it a bargain?"
Gwen shook her head in bewilderment, peered foolishly about the darkening room. Either she was having a crazy dream or else this guy was some kind of a nut!
"How about it?" the man asked impatiently.
"It's a deal," she replied, again shaking her head in bewilderment. At least, she reflected, she'd better play along until she talked to Buck.
"There are a couple of things I must insist upon," her 'telephone lover' said in demanding tones. "You're never to leave your phone off the hook, and you must answer whenever it rings. Day and night."
"All right," she agreed.
"And I warn you if you notify the police, or if you don't cooperate fully, then I'm going to get back at you by ruining Big Buck Dixon. Believe me!"
"I believe you," she assured him.
After a slight pause, he asked, "Are you downstairs in the living room or upstairs in the bedroom?"
"Upstairs."
"What do you have on, darling."
"Nothing," she answered truthfully. "I was about to take a nap when you phoned."
"Are you stretched out on the bed?" he inquired. "Yes."
"So am I," he said breathily. "And I'm naked, too, sweetheart. I wish you could see me. You'd like my slim hips and my broad shoulders."
Gwen made no response.
"Guess what I'm doing?" he went on in intimate tones. "I'm looking at the pictures of you and Buck. But I'm pretending he isn't in them. I see nothing but your magnificent body. Your glorious nakedness, darling. You're the most exciting woman I ever saw or imagined. Honest!"
Again, Gwen said nothing. "I wouldn't have believed that such big breasts could be so firm and pointed," he rambled on, his voice vibrating with excitement. "I'm running my hands all over your shoulders, honey. And now my hands are moving down to those two breathtaking cones ... cupping them, caressing them. Oh-h, how they make me drool. Just stroking them is getting me all shook up.
Gwen remained silent.
"And now I'm burying my face between your breasts," the deep, throbbing voice continued. "Your skin is so soft ... your flesh so warm. I love it. I love kissing it, sliding my lips over it." Kissing noises echoed over the wire. "And now I'm going to get acquainted with those beautiful, delectable nipples, darling. They remind me of little hills. Soft little hills. But they won't be soft much longer, I assure you."
The big hedhead squirmed uncomfortably.
"Um-m-m, how delicious, sweetheart," the hypnotic voice went on breathlessly. "It feels wonderful, doesn't it? I knew you'd like it best of all with me. I knew you'd start moaning and writhing right away."
Gwen caught her breath. The insinuating voice was beginning to affect her. Then, suddenly, she realized that her breasts were rising and falling quickly.
"Such luscious hips ... such inviting thighs," the man panted loudly. "I'm stroking them now. Oh-h, how superb they are." He laughed softly. "You're trembling beneath my touch. I like that. I know you want me to hurry, but I don't like to rush, darling. I want to caress every inch of you, drive you wild with desire. I want you to beg. And you will, my sweet ... you will."
On and on, the entrancing voice continued making love to her body. Her breathing grew increasingly rapid, and desire began gnawing fiercely into her vitals. Soon, in spite of herself, she started squirming rhythmically. And then, a short time later, she lost the very last of her self-control.
"That's right, honey, that's right!" the deep voice murmured deliriously. "I told you that I'd soon have you begging, didn't I? I told you that I could thrill you as you've never been thrilled before. And this is only the beginning...."
4
At ten o'clock that evening, Big Buck Dixon hurried inside the redwood house and mounted the stairs with his usual haste. As he approached the bedroom, he expected Gwen to open the door and rush into his arms, the way she always did. Tonight, however, the big redhead did not come forward to greet him. A puzzled frown flickered across his rugged face.
Then, Buck's frown deepened when he noticed that no light appeared beneath the door. At the same moment, he heard noises inside the bedroom. Familiar noises...! Gwen was moaning and gasping frantically the way she always did when he got her so shook that she couldn't stand it any longer, started begging him to stop playing around and take her quick.
Buck's scalp prickled and tightened. Some other guy must be with Gwen! Abruptly, his stomach began churning nauseously. He felt as if he were going to vomit. Then, suddenly, cold anger started welling inside his chest. Gritting his teeth, he reached for the doorknob and turned it silently.
As the big man stepped into the dark bedroom, other familiar noises smote his sears. Gwen was writhing about on the bed as if she were approaching a convulsive climax. Steeling himself for the heartbreaking sight which he expected to see, Buck switched on an overhead light. Almost instantly, a gasp of surprise erupted from his throat.
Mouth agape, Buck stared foolishly at Gwen. She alone occupied the huge bed, and she was carrying on like a caged bitch in heat ... as if crazed with her agonizing need. But most surprising of all the frantic Amazon was holding the telephone receiver against her ear!
"What the--! " At a loss for words, Buck let the sentence trail off.
Gwen signaled him to keep quiet. Then she returned her attention to the telephone, gasping into the mouthpiece: "I can't stand it another second! Can I hang up now please!"
Scowling darkly, Buck hurried toward the bed.
"Yes ... yes," Gwen panted into the telephone. "I won't forget. Goodnight."
"What the hell is going on!" Buck exclaimed, as soon as Gwen hung up.
"I'll tell you later," she gasped, literally yanking him down upon the bed. "I need you now, Big Daddy. I'm going out of my mind..."
The agitated redhead practically snatched off his clothes. Then, clutching him desperately, she pulled him against her quivering body. Her arms tightened around his back until her breasts flattened beneath his chest. Fleetingly, he feared that the two big hillocks would burst like overtaxed balloons. But Gwen pressed him even closer, distracted him with hot, demanding kisses.
Seconds later, he proceeded to take her. She whimpered briefly. Then she began twisting as never before. Her ecstatic cries became delirious. And she reminded him of a wild horse being ridden for the first time.
After the explosive crescendo they fell apart in passion-spent heaps, struggling for each breath. For a while, neither moved nor spoke. Both felt drained yet fulfilled...
Finally, Buck ended the cozy silence. "What was going on when I came in?" he inquired, recalling the strange and perplexing scene.
Haltingly, Gwen began to explain. At first, Buck was greatly alarmed when he learned that someone had taken pictures of him and Gwen making uninhibited love. Then his alarm turned into bewilderment when Gwen told him that the anonymous caller had no intention of demanding money.
"What did the guy want?" he asked, warily. Gwen's reply caused him to blink with amazement. "He wants to make love to you over the telephone!" Buck repeated, unable to believe his ears.
She told him about submitting to the hypnotic voice's imaginary love-making. "I thought it best to play along until you and I could talk," she sighed. "And then I started getting excited. You know how easily aroused I am. And that bastard knew every trick in the book. What's more, he took his own good time went on and on and on until I lost control altogether." She paused, inhaling deeply. "If you hadn't come in when you did..."
"Damnedest thing I ever heard of," Buck mumbled, more to himself than to Gwen. A strange uneasiness prickled through him.
"Are you sure that you didn't tell your buddy about me?" Gwen asked, after a moment. "Yes, I'm sure."
"Isn't it possible that he could have followed you out here some night?" she suggested. "Just out of curiosity, perhaps?"
"I suppose he could have but I'm positive he wouldn't do such a thing." Buck frowned thoughtfully. "What makes you suspect him?"
"I was just thinking ... there has to be a good reason why the anonymous caller has made such a strange bargain with me. He could have asked for and gotten a lot of money for the pictures but he isn't interested in money. He could have forced me to really submit to him but he isn't going to." Gwen gazed directly into his eyes. "Your friend wouldn't need the money and he wouldn't dare reveal his identity to us. Not if he valued your friendship."
Her reasoning did seem logical. Yet, Buck still felt positive that his buddy wouldn't betray him in any way.
"No," he assured her, "-Vance isn't the guy. I know him too well. He'd never do such a thing to me. I'd stake my life on it."
"Come to think of it," Gwen said reflectively, "your buddy's voice wouldn't sound familiar to me, since I've never had any contact with him."
Buck raised a questioning eyebrow. "The man's voice sounded familiar to you?"
"A little. But, for the life of me, I can't place it."
"Under the circumstances," he observed, "I imagine the bastard made a point of disguising his voice."
"More than likely," Gwen agreed, nibbling thoughtfully at her lower lip. "I wonder who it can be? And why he wants nothing more than to make love to me on the phone? It just doesn't make sense to me."
"Perhaps the guy is sexually inadequate, gets his kicks out of phoning women and bragging about his prowess as a lover. I've heard of such cases."
"So have I," Gwen nodded. "And now that you mention it, I'm reminded of something the guy said. In the beginning, he claimed, he didn't specifically come out here to take pictures. He said he just wanted to watch me undress at night ... to see me in the nude."
"That would fit in," Buck mused out loud. "Definitely."
"It certainly seems to add up."
"Well, if the jerk wants nothing more than to get sexy with you on the telephone," Buck said, "then let him get his kicks for the time being. After we get married, it won't matter if the bastard has a thousand lewd pictures of us. He couldn't prove that the pictures had been taken before our marriage. The important thing is to keep him quiet until Sheilah and I are divorced."
"That's the way I figured it," Gwen murmured, snuggling close to him once more.
"Sheilah signed the settlement papers today," Buck went on, "and she's flying to Reno Monday morning. As soon as I hear that she has the divorce, let's fly to Yuma and tie the knot pronto. Then we won't have to wait three days and we can promptly tell your telephone lover to go straight to hell."
Gwen sighed blissfully, began running her fingers through the thick mat of hair on his chest. "The sooner I become Mrs. Buck Dixon, the better I'll like it. Even six weeks seems an eternity to wait."
"We're not exactly waiting," he chuckled, raising up on an elbow and partially resting upon her outstretched body. Then, nuzzling her throat, he murmured, "Let's not wait some more, Big Mama."
The lusty redhead needed no urging. But, then, she never needed urging, Buck reflected happily as his lips moved down to her delectable breasts. Gwen was as hot-blooded as he, needed release as frequently. And he had long ago decided that there was no such thing as 'enough' for him. Within half an hour after sex, he was always ready, willing, and able to continue ... all night long.
Unfortunately, he could only remain with Gwen until two o'clock in the morning. He had to have a few hours sleep before flying east tomorrow for a p.a. in Chicago. But he made the most of his time with the big redhead again and again and then again.
5
Monday. Shortly after ten o'clock that morning, Big Buck Dixon strolled into the king-size trailer which he used as a dressing room. He was between takes, waiting for another camera set-up. And he felt in need of a nap.
The giant man dropped down upon a divan, closed his eyes, and immediately drifted off to sleep. But not for long. His telephone rang, bringing him to his feet quickly. The call was from his attorney, notifying him that Sheilah was on her way to Reno, as planned. After hanging up the receiver, he heaved a sigh of relief. And then he resumed his nap until he was called back to the set.
Buck finished work for the day at two o'clock in the afternoon. Much earlier than he had expected. Upon leaving the set, he hurried out of the sound stage and headed for one of the public telephone booths nearby. Cramming himself inside one of the booths, he dialed Gwen's number.
"Hello," she answered promptly.
"This is Buck, honey. I've got the rest of the day off, so don't go shopping or anything. I'll be right over."
"I'll be waiting." Her voice was breathless with inticipation.
"By the way," he added, as an afterthought, "-did your telephone Romeo mail the 'proof' he promised."
"Yes, he did."
"Are they as sensational as he intimated."
"I'll say!" She laughed lightly. "In fact, just looking at them has almost driven me wild. If you know what I mean. Hurry, darling!"
"Keep the home fires burning," he chuckled. "I'll be there shortly."
Buck hurried to his car, sped off the studio lot, and headed for Coldwater Canyon. Half an hour later he pulled up in front of his and Gwen's hideaway. Hoping out of the white Cad, he bounded up the front steps and hastened inside the redwood house.
"In here, honey," Gwen called out to him from the living room.
He stepped into the large room, found the big redhead sitting cross-legged on the floor. Her shapely hips were encased in white shorts, and the upper part of her torso was clad in a green, pull-over sweater. Buck grinned appreciatively. Her tremendous breasts appeared on the verge of bursting from their confinement, and it was quite obvious that she wasn't wearing a bra.
"You look delicious," he murmured, his gaze traveling down her long, well-formed legs. "In fact, you look good enough to eat."
"So do you, Big Daddy," she said, her wide, green eyes sparkling with amusement.
"What's funny?" he asked, strolling toward her. Then he noticed the snapshots spread out in front of
Gwen. Perhaps two dozen of them. "Oh ... the pictures."
Gwen pulled him down on the carpet beside her.
"Look, honey," she said breathlessly. "Aren't they sensational!"
"Wow!" he exclaimed, his eyes bulging from the sockets as he gaped at the extremely revealing pictures. He and Gwen had been photographed in almost every pose imaginable, on the bed and elsewhere the bedroom.
"Aren't they terrific?" Gwen smiled, stretching out on her back and clasping her hands behind her head
"You said it!" he breathed hoarsely, his excitement mounting by leaps and bounds. "Whew!"
"What a man you are, Big Daddy."
He glanced down at her outstretched figure. Her mammoth breasts were heaving rapidly, seemed to be straining frantically beneath the tight sweater.
"What a lot of woman you are, Big Mama," he said huskily, sliding a hand up under her sweater and clutching a firm cone of warm flesh. "We were made for each other; that's for sure."
Buck leaned forward, crushed his mouth against her lips. For a time, he kissed her hotly while his caressing hand moved over her glorious breasts. Then he paused to peel off her sweater. Moments later tugged off her white shorts. And then, urgently, crushed his mouth against her lips once more.
Gwen's fingers fumbled with the buttons of shirt. With her aid, he shrugged out of it. Then discarded the rest of his clothing and their kisses grew savage as he tented himself about her.
Taking his time, Buck began making love to her. Tenderly. Soon, she started making cooing sounds her throat. At that point, the telephone rang.
"Perhaps you'd better answer it," he mumbled, and tearing his mouth away from Gwen's ardent lips.
Her arms tightened around his neck. "To hell with it," she gasped, locking him even tighter against her straining body. "Love me ... love me!"
"Suppose it's your telephone lover."
"He'd hardly call me in the middle of the afternoon," she murmured. "And if he did, I could say I was out shopping."
"Okay," Buck agreed, claiming her mouth again, But the telephone continued ringing ... ten, twenty, thirty times. The irritating distraction soon became unendurable to Buck. Scowling, he released Gwen's lips again.
"I don't think it's going to stop ringing until you do answer," he sighed. "Why not get it over with?" I "In a minute," she gasped, raking her nails across his back. "Not right now, darling--! " A minute later, panting with satiation, he fell away from Gwen. She rested a few seconds, then moved away. The still-jangling telephone was on the coffee table. He watched the busty redhead pick up the receiver.
"Hello," she said breathlessly. Then, after a long moment: "I was out shopping," she insisted. Buck knew who was calling. He watched Gwen's face, saw her expression grow fearful. Then she paled.
"Yes, I'm listening," she assured her caller in a shaky voice. Clamping her hand over the mouthpiece, me turned toward Buck and whispered, "He says he knows I'm lying ... that he can figure out why I didn't answer the phone sooner. But I think he's just bluffing."
Buck frowned.
I "I I beg your pardon," the big redhead stammered into the phone. Then, clamping her hand over the mouthpiece again, she whispered, "He says he wants to speak to you this very minute or else, but I still think he's bluffing ... wants to make sure of his suspicions."
Buck's frown deepened. More than likely the guy was bluffing. On the other hand, the bastard could have been watching the house when he arrived. And if that unpredictable oddball caught them lying...
"Believe me-" Gwen started to deny his presence.
"Hold it!" Buck rushed forward, grabbed the receiver.
Gwen stared at him open-mouthed.
"We can't take a chance," he mumbled. Then, speaking into the mouthpiece, he said, "This is Dixon."
"You were laying her, weren't you?" the anonymous caller snapped angrily.
"Yes," Buck admitted. "Gwen wanted to stop and answer the phone," he lied, "but I just couldn't turn her loose right away. You know how it is."
"If I know that bitch and I do it was probably the other way around. She wouldn't turn you loose." The deep voice rang with bitterness.
"No, I'm to blame," Buck insisted. "Sorry."
"You're going to be a damned sight sorrier if she ever lies to me again," the man growled fiercely. "I'll fix you good, buddy. Believe me!"
"It won't happen again," Buck promised.
"It better not!" in ominous tones. Then, in a sneering voice: "So you want to marry that no-good bitch? Did you know that she's slept with nearly every big-shot in Hollywood?"
"She has told me about her past."
"Part of it, maybe," the guy jeered. "That man-crazy broad hasn't told you everything, I'm positive."
"I don't care what she's done in the past."
"Maybe you think she'll be faithful to you in the future," the anonymous caller snorted. "Well, don't count on it, buddy. Within six months she'll be cheating on you. No one man could ever satisfy her. Not even you, Big Daddy."
Buck reddened, but made no response.
"Sooner or later," the man went on, laughing softly, "she'll find another guy who pleases her even more than you. And then shell dump you after taking you for every cent possible. Believe me, Gwen Gordon has been a no-goodnik from way back. If you do marry her, you'll be sorry. Very sorry."
With great effort, Buck controlled his temper.
"You won't be able to trust her out of your sight," the jeering voice continued. "Not even for half an hour."
Buck scowled. "It sounds as if she may have cheated on you."
"If I got that bitch into bed just once," the man said confidently, "she'd be my slave for the rest of her life. Believe me! I'd have her begging-" Suddenly, the line went dead and then the dial tone started buzzing monotonously.
"Hello ... hello," Buck said, jiggling the receiver. But to no avail.
"What happened?" Gwen asked.
"I don't know," Buck replied, hanging up. "Either he hung up or we got cut off."
"He'll probably call back."
"No doubt." His eyes grew thoughtful.
"What did he say to you?" Gwen urged.
Buck told her.
"That dirty sonofabitch!" she exclaimed in annoyance. "He's trying to break us up!" "That was obvious."
"Rest assured, honey, I have told you everything about my past. And you need never worry about me cheating on you. Not even for a minute. What's more, I'm perfectly willing to sign a pre-marital agreement foregoing any right to your money or property. AH I want is you."
Buck chuckled. "I don't need convincing." Then, seriously, he said, "Whoever your telephone lover is, I think he hates your guts whether or not he realizes it."
"Why should he?" Gwen frowned.
"I got the impression that he knew you well, but had never slept with you." Buck nodded decisively. I "Yeah, I think it's some guy who tried to get you but couldn't. And while he's bitter about it, he's still hot! for you."
"But if he wants me so bad," Gwen pointed out, "-he could force me to sleep with him now."
Buck shook his head in bewilderment. "It doesn't add up," he sighed.
"I wish I could place his voice," Gwen despaired.
"Like I said before, I'm sure he is disguising it."
Gwen stretched out on the sectional divan, pulled him down beside her. "When he calls back," she said, "I'll concentrate on his voice. Maybe I'll get an idea."
"It wouldn't help any if you did recognize the voice," Buck shrugged. "As long as he has the negatives..."
"I'd still like to know."
Half an hour passed. The telephone remained silent but Gwen and Buck kept busy while they waited. Their kisses grew hotter and hotter, their caresses grew more and more passionate. Then they began straining urgently.
"If the phone should ring," Gwen panted, "I could answer it from here. And he wouldn't know what was going on while he talked to me..."
Buck was more than agreeable. In fact, the idea was exciting in itself. He gathered the lusty Amazon beneath him, sought her eager lips. She literally drew his tongue into her mouth. He teased her briefly, until neither of them could stand it any longer.
The telephone did not ring again that afternoon or evening. At two o'clock Tuesday morning, when Buck had to leave, he felt more than a little disappointed. But there would be other times, he was certain.
6
Tuesday afternoon, the fifteenth of July, shortly after one o'clock...
Gwen was outside, sunbathing, when the telephone started ringing. She dropped the suntan lotion she was applying, leaped to her feet and dashed into the house. Intuitively, she knew who was calling.
Racing into the living room, she snatched up the telephone receiver. "Hello," she answered breathily.
"Where were you?" her telephone lover demanded.
"I was out back, taking a sun bath."
"In the nude?" he asked.
"Yes."
"What do you have on now."
"Nothing but suntan lotion."
"That's good," he said huskily. "I can imagine how you look, sweetheart ... with your luscious body all slippery and shiny. Oh, how delectable!"
Gwen began straining her ears, trying to place the deep voice.
"I'm nude, too," the man went on in breathless tones. "I always strip just before calling you, babe. Then I stretch out on the bed ... with your pictures all around me. Just looking at them gets me all shook up."
The big redhead listened anxiously. Now and then, a vaguely familiar quality crept into the anonymous caller's voice. But she just couldn't place it; dammit!
"Are you standing up or sitting down?" the man asked.
"I'm standing."
"Describe the room to me," he demanded. Then, after she did so, he said, "Stretch out on the divan, darling."
"But I'm covered with oil," she protested. "It will ruin the-"
"I don't give a damn if you're dripping mud," he barked angrily. "Do as I tell you."
"All right," she sighed but she remained standing. "Are you stretched out?" he asked, a second later. "Yes," she lied.
"Close your eyes, darling, and pretend that I'm there with you ... sitting on the floor beside the divan." His breathing grew raspy. "Now, I'm running my hands all over your slippery body. Your magnificent body..."
Gwen paid no attention to what he was saying. She concentrated on the inflections of his voice.
"Now, I'm stretching out on the divan beside you,' the man murmured hoarsely. "I'm slipping my left arm under your neck ... and my right hand is sliding over those firm, pointed breasts of yours. Oh-h-h, babe ... they're incredible. The most! The absolute most!"
Gwen continued concentrating on the voice itself.
"I'm kissing your face," he went on breathlessly. "Your beautiful face. So soft ... smooth. And now my mouth is sliding over your full, ripe lips. Um-m-m!! My mouth is squirming over your lips hard. But you like that. You're kissing me back ... passionately." His breathing grew even more raspy. "Now, I'm darting my tongue between your lips. You like that, too. Your tongue seeks mine ... captures it. But there's a surprise in store for you. There! Without warning, I shoved my tongue deep into your mouth." He laughed softly. "You nearly jumped off the divan. But you liked the sensation. You liked it a lot, and you want me to do it again. But I have other things on my mind now, babe. Lots of other things. Before long, I'll have you begging me..."
Even now, Gwen reflected, the man was carefully disguising his voice. Very carefully. She could tell.
"Say that you love me, Big Mama," he murmured Then, after a momentary silence, he snapped, "Well?"
"O-oh," she stammered. "I didn't know that you wanted me to really say it."
"Say it damn you!"
"I love you, whoever you are," she said, sounding like a child reciting a line of dull poetry.
"Am I putting you to sleep?" he snarled furiously.
"I I'm not much of an actress." Which was true.
"Listen, you hateful bitch!" he said in venomous tones. "Either you cooperate or else!"
"But I'm doing my very best," she protested. "Honest!"
"Yeah ... sure." His voice rankled with sarcasm. "Well, I've got news for you, babe. You've got to do a whole lot better. If you don't, you'll be sorry."
"Honest," she began-
"You don't even know the meaning of that word, you no-good slut." His anger was explosive. "You think you're something, don't you? And you can hardly wait to become Big Buck Dixon's wife. Well, don't count on it!"
"What do you mean by that?" She held her breath fearfully.
"I just might break up your plans, babe." His voice was edged with raw hatred. "That would bring your nose down out of the air, wouldn't it? You stinking whore! I know-" He stopped suddenly. "I have to hang up now. But you'll be hearing from me again soon. And if I don't get more cooperation and enthusiasm, I'll fix you good. Believe me!"
After the anonymous caller hung up, Gwen started pacing worriedly about the Irving room. Buck had been right about one thing, she decided. Whoever the caller was, he certainly didn't think highly of her as a person. She wondered why. What man had good cause to hate her?
Frowning thoughtfully, the big redhead began reviewing her slightly unsavory past...
PART TWO
1
So far as Gwen was concerned, the first twenty years of her life were more or less wasted. She was born in San Bernardino, and grew up in a large, two-story house in the best residential section of town. Her father, Frank Gordon, was a well-to-do real estate broker. And her mother's name was Lily.
Throughout her teens, Gwen was extremely popular with the opposite sex. Her striking beauty and her curvaceous, bosomy figure attracted boyfriends by the dozens. But she never cared for anyone in particular. Invariably, the young men in her life were too short, too dull, or too fresh. Besides, the majority of them were interested only in getting her into bed and she was determined to remain a virgin until she married. Not that she didn't want to give in to some of the boys, at times; but she'd made a solemn promise to her dearly beloved father...
Then, shortly before her twentieth birthday, Gwen met Arnold Willoughby. He was twenty-seven years old, very handsome, and two inches taller than she. What's more, he was a perfect gentleman ... and, oh, so romantic. Right from the start, she fell madly in love with him.
Three months later, on a bright Saturday morning in June, Gwen and Arnold were married at her parents' home. Immediately after the reception, they ran out to Arnold's car and sped away on their honeymoon. Arnold had two weeks off, and they planned to drive leisurely up the coast, stopping whenever and wherever they pleased.
Late that afternoon, as they neared Santa Barbara, Gwen became increasingly nervous and apprehensive. A short time earlier, Arnold had suggested that they spend the night at a swank motel on the outskirts of the city. Even though she loved Arnold deeply, she dreaded the painful night ahead. Long ago, her father had warned her what to expect when she submitted to a man. Even now, she clearly remembered that disturbing night...
She was barely twelve, then, and her budding breasts were beginning to swell rapidly. At bedtime that evening, she paused in front of her dressing table and gazed at her bare-waisted figure in the mirror. Soon, she decided, she'd need a bra. Surely her mother had noticed by now.
Moments later, Gwen was distracted by loud voices in the bedroom across the hall. Her mother and father were having an argument. Pulling on her long nightgown, the tall, thin young girl crept over to her door and opened it a few inches. She could hear her parents clearly.
"It's your place to teach Gwendolyn the facts of life," her father growled in exasperated tones. "And you can't keep putting it off. It has been three weeks since I told you to-"
"I know, Frank," her mother cut in plaintively, "-but I just can't force myself to tell her such terrible things."
"Now, Lily-"
Gwen heard her mother start crying.
"All right, then," her father said angrily. "If you won't do it-I will. This very night."
Gwen closed her door, raced across the room and leaped into bed. Her heart was pounding loudly when, a few seconds later her father walked into the room.
Frank Gordon was a giant of a man. He stood six-feet-four without his shoes, and his shoulders were almost as wide as the door. Somehow, he always reminded Gwen of a heroic Viking.
"Gwendolyn," he said in a deep, resonant voice, "-I want to have a serious talk with you."
"All right, Papa."
He sat down on the edge of the bed. "It's aboutsex."
"Yes, Papa?"-gulping.
His green eyes studied her face closely. "Have you ever let a boy touch you? You know what I mean . .
"Yes, I know." She blushed. "But I've never done anything bad."
"That's my girl," he said, patting her shoulder. Then, with his bushy, red eyebrows knitting together in thoughtfulness, he continued: "I want you to promise me that you'll never give yourself to any boy or man until the day you get married. For several reasons..."
She waited for him to explain.
"In the first place," he went on, "a woman can give her bridegroom no greater gift than her virginity. And her husband will be able to tell whether or not she has been despoiled. If she has, he won't have any respect for her. Can you understand that?" "Yes, Papa."
"But to start at the beginning," he frowned, "maybe I'd better explain about a girl's monthly periods . .
Afterward, he told her what to expect when her maidenhead was pierced. Then he assured her that intercourse would be painful to her or, at least, discomforting as long as she lived. And impregnation was almost a certainty the instant her maidenhead was broken.
To impress her deeply, he drew pictures on the back of a large envelope ... illustrating everything. At first, Gwen was shocked. Then she became fascinated. In fact, almost spellbound. She had no idea that a man could be so gigantic. No wonder intercourse would be painful!! !
"As you grow up," her father continued, "you'll hear some girls say that sex feels good. But don't believe everything you hear, Gwendolyn. And if you don't believe it hurts, just ask your mother."
Gwen believed him. Especially since she'd often heard her mother moaning plaintively during the night ... and she'd listened outside her parents' bedroom door on several occasions.
"I want you to promise me on your word of honor diat you'll save yourself for your future husband." He spoke in commanding tones.
"I promise, Papa."
Gwen hardly slept that night. She kept dreaming about horrible things. Then she had a nightmare in which her gigantic father towered above her pain-wracked body. She screamed and screamed. At the same time, somehow, she adored him more than ever before. As long as he held her in his arms and kissed her fervently, nothing else mattered. She loved him dearly.
Throughout the following eight years, she had kept her solemn promise to remain a virgin. At least, physically. In her dreams she had frequently lain in her father's strong arms, caressed him with loving hands. And she didn't feel guilty about it, either. She loved him too much.
Gwen's thoughts drifted back to the present. Within a few hours, now, Arnold would deflower her. Butterflies began swarming through her stomach. She clenched her hands tightly, tried not to think about her imminent ordeal...
* * *
At ten o'clock that evening, in a luxurious motel on the outskirts of Santa Barbara, Gwen breathlessly emerged from the dressing room. Her voluptuous curves were encased in a long, white nightgown. Swallowing with great difficulty, she glanced at her waiting bridegroom. Arnold, clad in dark blue pajamas, was sitting on the edge of the double bed.
"You look like an angel," he murmured, rising to his feet and drawing her close against the length of his long, lean body.
For an interminable time, it seemed to Gwen, they stood there in the middle of the room. Arnold kissed every inch of her face, tenderly. Again and again, he whispered how much he loved her. And then, suddenly, he scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bed.
After placing her in the center of the bed, Arnold stretched out beside her. Once more, he began kissing her tenderly. His lips grew increasingly warm, and his breathing grew loud and irregular.
In spite of her fears, Gwen felt exhilarated. Especially after Arnold's big hand eased over her right breast and started caressing it. Deep inside, she began trembling.
Within a few minutes, Arnold's hand slid beneath the top of her nightgown. He unfastened her strapless bra and pulled it away from her body. Next, his hand moved over her breasts ... cupping, stroking, kneading.
Gwen caught her breath. She had no idea that a man's caresses could feel so utterly delightful! Her nipples grew hard between his fingers, and tiny thrills shot through her being. Maddening thrills...
But that was only the beginning, she soon discovered. Arnold pulled down the top of her nightgown, until her breasts were completely bared ... and then his hot lips thrilled her as she had never dreamed possible. She couldn't help squirming with the rapture.
Seconds later, while Arnold's teasing lips continued to thrill her, his free hand started tugging at the bottom of her nightgown. Soon, the garment was tossed aside. And then her forced her panties down over her hips, tossed them aside. She lay there nude, quivering with strange excitement. She wanted this ecstatic feeling to last forever.
Then, Arnold began caressing her intimately. Before long, she started gasping deliriously. She felt as if she were going out of her mind. Every pore in her body seemed to tingle with sweet fire. She began sighing and straining urgently.
Arnold stripped quickly, rose above her. She held her breath fearfully. Pain knifed into her but it soon faded, much to her surprise. And then, gradually, electrifying waves of pure ecstasy began spreading through her. The sensation was fabulous!
In due time, deep tremors began wracking Gwen's body. She nearly went wild, as she strained toward him wantonly.
All too soon, it seemed to Gwen, Arnold took his pleasure and collapsed at her side. Then he drifted off to sleep. But she remained wide awake, recalling every single moment, every single thrill, of the past hour. It had been out of this world. And she wished Arnold could continue forever. She didn't think she could ever get enough...
Suddenly, Gwen again recalled the memorable night she had promised to remain a virgin until she married. Her father had lied to her about intercourse being an ordeal! Oh, how he had lied! But she thought she understood why he had done so. It was for her own good, no doubt.
If she had known how wonderful a boy could make a girl feel, she reflected, she wouldn't have wasted a single day of the past eight years!
An hour passed; then two. Gwen tried to go to sleep, but couldn't. The more she thought about Arnold's love-making, the more restless she became. She wanted him again ... needed him again.
She turned on her side, snuggled up to Arnold. He continued snoring lightly. Hoping to rouse him, she pressed her breasts tightly against his back. But he didn't stir. Not even when she began caressing him.
Another hour passed, and Gwen's burning need became almost unbearable. Finally, she couldn't endure it any longer. Whimpering, she shook Arnold's shoulder hard.
"What's the matter, honey?" he muttered sleepily, turning to face her.
"I had a bad dream," she fibbed. "It scared me."
He slid an arm beneath her neck, drew her close against his body. "Feel better now?" he murmured.
"Yes," she whispered, straining even closer and wriggling provocatively.
"Better be careful," he teased, "or you'll get into trouble if you know what I mean."
In response, she caressed him adoringly. "I loved every second of it, darling. No matter how often you want me, I'll never refuse you. Wait and see."
He slid a hand over her possessively, then whistled under his breath. "Oh, doll," he murmured breathily, "-you're wonderful..."
Within a very short time, Gwen drew her husband into her eager arms. This time, she felt no pain at all. Only rapture.
It was dawn when, finally, she released Arnold. For a while...
2
Without doubt, the average woman would have found Arnold Willoughby's sexual appetite to be a hearty one but Gwen Gordon was not an ordinary woman. She needed Arnold two or three times each day, and then two or three times each night. By the time their two-week honeymoon drew to a close, Arnold was on the verge of collapsing from extreme physical exhaustion.
"When we get settled in our own home," Arnold told her, shortly before they started driving south again, "I think you'd better see a doctor, honey."
"Why?" she asked, puzzled.
He grinned. "You need something to calm you down, babe. The pace you've set is far too much for me." His eyes began sparkling with devilment. "At times, I wonder if any two men could keep pace with you."
"I'm just making up for lost time," she laughed.
Two days later, on a Saturday afternoon, Arnold carried Gwen across the threshold of their new home a costly house in an exclusive section of Pasadena. Within twenty minutes she lured Arnold into bed ... and she kept him there throughout most of the day. After all, she reasoned, he'd be returning to work tomorrow, and from then on he wouldn't be available half as much as she'd like.
And so ended the honeymoon...
* * *
On a particularly hot day in late July, Gwen paced restlessly about the big, silent house. Her nerves were so frayed that she felt like screaming, and it took all of her willpower to keep from bursting into tears. Never in her life had she imagined such agony as that which she was suffering. Her need of Arnold was driving her mad.
A month had passed since Arnold returned to work. Four long, miserable weeks, she reflected wretchedly. Arnold was a sales representative for a large oil company, and his work necessitated traveling a great deal. In addition, long business trips frequently kept him away three or four days and nights. like his present journey to Texas, for instance. He'd been gone three days now and he wasn't due back until day after tomorrow. Surely, Gwen despaired, she would go out of her mind before then.
Wringing her hands in desperation, Gwen strolled over to a rear window and glanced outside. Immediately, her gaze centered upon Paco Gonzales, the Mexican whom Arnold had recently hired to take care of the lawn once each week. The handsome Latin was trimming the tall hedge which enclosed the patio ... and he was stripped to the waist.
In spite of herself, Gwen eyed Paco hungrily. How broad his shoulders looked ... how wide his muscular chest ... and how well-developed his biceps were. As he worked, sunlight glistened upon his perspiring flesh, and she could see the rippling of muscles beneath his bronzed skin. Then her avid gaze moved down to his slim hips.
Suddenly, desire swept through Gwen like a raging forest fire. Her anguish was unbearable. She needed Paco desperately ... needed the relief he could give her. She had to have a man. Now. Any man...
Crazed by her burning need, Gwen almost ripped the clothing from her body. After slipping on a bikini, she sashayed out to the patio and stretched out on an air mattress ... as if to get some sun. Every nerve in her body was taut now. She was a jungle cat, stalking the most desirable of all prey.
Paco continued snipping at the opposite side of the tall hedge, but Gwen knew that his heart wasn't in his work. Seconds earlier, when she approached the patio, she'd watched the male animal from the corners of her eyes. At first, he gaped at her in surprise. Then his breath quickened, and he began licking his lips nervously. He wanted her, all right but he wouldn't dare approach her. She could tell, somehow.
After a few moments, Gwen called out to him: "Paco, you can work in here now, if you like."
Hesitantly he entered the hedge-enclosed patio. He tried not to look down at her nearly-nude body, but he was powerless to resist.
"I I'd better come back later," he stammered.
"I want you to stay," she purred, arching her breasts and squirming luxuriously. "Please..."
"I-I don't think I should, Mrs. Willoughby." But he made no move to leave.
Her breasts began rising and falling rapidly. "I want you ... need you," she murmured huskily, unable to control herself any longer. 'I'm going crazy...."
Slowly, as if drawn against his will, Paco moved toward her outstretched body. His excitement was evident.
"Take me ... take me," she whispered urgently.
Paco obliged her quite admirably. Much to her relief, he agreed to prolong the torrid session as long as she liked. And she kept him busy throughout the remainder of the afternoon.
Afterward, she knew that she should be ashamed of herself. But she wasn't. After all, giving herself to
Paco didn't mean that she loved Arnold any the less.
The incident with Paco had nothing to do with love.
She just had to have a man. That was all there was to it. Naturally, she would have preferred sleeping with
Arnold ... but he wasn't available, and she couldn't wait until he returned home. By then, she would have been stark mad. Of that she was certain.
Besides, Arnold would never know the difference.
* * *
Six months later...
Gwen awoke in the middle of the night, began squirming restlessly. She needed Arnold again. But she was afraid to rouse him and make her need known. During the past few months he had become increasingly annoyed with her for wanting him so frequently ... and lately his annoyance seemed tinged with disgust.
Perhaps it had been a shattering blow to Arnold's ego when he found himself unable to keep pace with her needs, Gwen mused. Perhaps she made him feel less a man.
Gwen lit a cigarette, stared thoughtfully into the darkness. Arnold didn't know the half of it. During the past several months she had been forced to seek out many men in order to gratify her insatiable sexual appetite. She just couldn't help herself...
Shortly after the incident with Paco Gonzales, a door-to-door salesman had rung the doorbell at a time when she needed a man desperately. She'd asked the salesman inside, brazenly flaunted her body, and the stranger lost no time in obliging her. Much to her surprise and delight, the short and stocky young man was far more rewarding than Arnold. She hated to see the salesman leave.
Then, in following weeks, she'd seduced the milkman, the postman, and other door-to-door salesmen. She just couldn't help herself...
One evening, when Arnold was out of town for a few days, she went to a bar. Dozens of unattached men seemed to materialize out of nowhere, eyeing her hungrily. Soon, a handsome young man offered to buy her a drink. She let him buy two martinis for her. A short time later he led her out to his car, in a dark corner of the parking lot at the rear of the building. There, in the rear seat of his Chevy, he made passionate love to her.
One night, when Arnold was away, she took a long walk at bedtime. She thought physical exhaustion would help her get through the long night ahead. She noticed a car pass her several times, but paid no particular attention when she saw two men in the front seat. Then, on a dark street, the car pulled up to the curb and the two men leaped out. Before she realized what was happening, a hand was clamped over her mouth and she was yanked into the car. Half an hour later, out in the hills, the two men raped her savagely. But she didn't feel humiliated or outraged. On the contrary, she enjoyed every minute of the rough treatment.
Then, two months ago, she'd met Victor Verona. She was driving home from the supermarket that evening, and she planned on stopping at her favorite bar for a few minutes ... just to kill time, she told herself. As she neared the bar, she looked for a parking space at the curb. But she saw none in the vicinity of the bar. She drove on, finally spotting an empty space at the very end of the block.
She pulled into the vacant space, cut the engine. Then, glancing up, she noticed a man lounging against the nearby light standard. He was perhaps twenty-seven years of age, at least six feet and four inches tall, and he was the most handsome man she had ever seen. What's more, he had the sexiest build imaginable. Broad, broad shoulders ... a trim waist ... and his hips were almost nonexistent.
Moistening her suddenly-dry lips, she stared hungrily at the young man. He wore a transparent white sport shirt, and it was unbuttoned all the way down the front, displaying a beautifully muscled chest. His slender hips and long legs were encased in faded blue levis which were startlingly tight and revealing. Without doubt, he was deliberately advertising his manliness.
Desire began gnawing into Gwen. She couldn't take her eyes off the exciting male figure. Then, his gaze met hers. He stared at her boldly, and then he flashed her a come-on smile. Her breasts began heaving with breathlessness. She wanted him ... had to have him.
With long, confident strides, the young man ambled toward the car. Thrusting his head inside the open window, he drawed, "Can I be of some service to you, miss?" His blue-eyed gaze swept over her lustfully.
"I I couldn't help noticing you," she stammered, fascinated by his sensuous good looks.
"I noticed you, too," he murmured, eyeing her breasts and licking his lips. "Would you care to get better acquainted?"
"Yes," she admitted.
He opened the door, slid down on the seat beside her. "So would I. How about going to my apartment?"
"All right." She could hardly wait.
Throughout the short drive, he told her about himself. His name was Victor Verona, and he was an aspiring actor, attending the Pasadena Playhouse. He didn't hold down a job on the side. His family paid his living expenses and tuition and appreciative women furnished his clothes and spending money.
Victor Verona turned out to be the most intriguing and exciting person Gwen had ever met. Immediately after they entered his apartment, the handsome young man suggested that they strip, have a drink, and look at some pornographic pictures. And thus began one of the most rewarding evenings she had ever known.
Vic called a spade a spade, and his language abounded with obscenities. He was extremely proud of his build, and he enjoyed exhibiting it. Apparently he knew everything there was to know about making love ... and he taught her everything he knew. Much to her pleasure and delight. It was a wild, experimental, passion-swept night to remember.
Toward morning, Vic pointed to her wedding band and inquired, "Are you going to get into trouble about staying out all night?"
She explained that her husband was out of town. Then, needing someone to confide in, she told Vic all about herself and Arnold. Everything ... including her countless infidelities.
"Any time you need a man," Vic offered, "just give me a buzz. Day or night. I'll fix you up."
And he did fix her up but good. On her third visit to Vic's apartment, he casually mentioned that she would find two men far more exciting than one. On her fourth visit, Vic had a buddy present. For the first time, Gwen enjoyed satisfaction as frequently as she liked. Arnold had been right when he jokingly commented that she needed two men to keep pace with her.
After that night, she had spent many nights with Vic and his buddy. The evenings became more and more orgiastic, more and more exhilarating. She felt like a queen bee.
Now, she didn't care about Arnold's frequent business trips hither and yon. Lately, in fact, she had begun looking forward to his overnight absences. Maybe she should be ashamed of herself, she reflected occasionally; but she wasn't ashamed. She couldn't help being a nympho; it was beyond her control. And Arnold didn't even half-way try to please her, to quench her burning need. So, wasn't he actually responsible for her infidelities? Hadn't he driven her to seek fulfillment elsewhere? Could she help it that he wasn't man enough for her?
But if Arnold ever found out about her indiscretions--! She shuddered at the very thought.
* * *
In mid-February, shortly before Gwen's twenty-first birthday, she received a distressing telephone call from her mother. At noon that day, her beloved father had collapsed with a heart attack. He was in the hospital, and his chances of recovery were very poor.
Gwen hopped into her car, sped out to San Bernardino. She joined her mother at the hospital. There, she sat by her father's bedside until the end came, at midnight. He died in his sleep.
Throughout the following three months, Gwen became increasingly unhappy with Arnold. When he wasn't too tired to make love to her, he took her mechanically. And he wasn't at all romantic any more. When he wasn't preoccupied with thoughts about his work or whatever he was thinking then he was grouchy and restless.
Gwen began spending more and more time at Victor Verona's apartment. When Arnold wasn't out of town, she spent three or four hours at Vic's place during the day with Vic or his friend. And when Arnold was away, she spent every night there.
On a particular Saturday morning, early in June, Arnold left town on a business trip to Oklahoma or so he led Gwen to believe. She phoned Vic immediately, told him that she had the entire week-end free. The handsome young actor suggested they have a bang-up orgy at his place that night. She readily agreed, began looking forward to nightfall.
By eleven o'clock that evening, Vic's party was in full swing. Including Vic, there were three men present and Gwen. All were nude. And Gwen was performing a lewd dance in the center of the living room.
Shortly before midnight, the men drew straws to determine the order in which they would claim her. And then the party really got wild.
Suddenly, with a resounding crash, the front door of Vic's apartment flew open. After a stunned moment, all hell seemed to break loose around Gwen. Her companions leaped to their feet, colliding in their mad scrambles to seek cover. Numb with shock, she stared up at the three men who had crashed into the apartment. Two of the intruders were strangers to her. The third was Arnold.
For a long moment, Arnold stared down at her fiercely. Then, his lips curling with contempt, he muttered, "You whore, you!"
Gwen was too frightened to move or to speak.
"I didn't believe it when I heard you were chasing after some actor," he went on ominously, "-but I hired detectives to make certain. And then, when the report came in that this Verona fellow was a pimp, charging five bucks a throw for your services..."
Arnold's tone grew even more thunderous. "I didn't believe you'd stoop so low. I insisted that the detectives prove it to me. And here I find you entertaining three men!"
Gwen stared up at him foolishly. Was it true that Vic had been charging his friend whenever he slept with her?
"I'll give you until morning to pack your things and get them out of my house," Arnold continued, forcing the words between clenched teeth. "On Monday morning, I'll have my attorney start proceedings for a divorce and you're not going to get one red cent out of it, either. If necessary, these detectives will go on the witness stand and expose your behavior to the entire world. Do I make myself clear?"
Avoiding his fierce eyes, she murmured, "Yes."
"I ought to kill you," Arnold hissed. Then, abruptly, he turned and walked out of the apartment.
And so ended their marriage...
3
The next day was Sunday. Shortly after dawn, Gwen took a bus to San Bernardino. She was going home. Where else could she go? She had no real friends, less than ten dollars in her purse, and Arnold had refused to let her keep the car he had given her soon after they were married.
At nine-thirty that morning, Gwen plodded wearily up the front steps of the large, two-story house in which she had spent the first twenty years of her life. She was surprised to find all of the curtains drawn. Perhaps her mother was sleeping late, she decided. Opening her pocketbook she fished out her old key.
After letting herself inside the house, Gwen mounted the stairs quietly. She intended going into her bedroom and catching up on her sleep. But just as she reached the door, she was distracted by the sound of a deep, male voice inside her mother's bedroom!
Unable to believe her ears, Gwen stared foolishly at her mother's door. Then, she heard her mother gasping ecstatically. Gwen's jaw sagged in astonishment.
"Oh sweetheart, I love you, love you, love you," the deep, male voice cried out passionately. It sounded familiar to Gwen.
"Oh, Neal, darling," her mother sang out rapturously, "I didn't know it could be so heavenly."
"I'm glad," he panted jerkily. "I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy, sweetheart."
"Oh, Neal ... oh, darling!"
Gwen stood frozen in her tracks, mouth agape. The man making love to her mother was none other than Neal Quinlan! Of that she was certain.
Frowning, Gwen recalled everything she knew about the handsome real estate salesman. He'd gone to work for her father eighteen months ago, and shortly thereafter he'd asked her for a date. She went out with him a couple of times, much to her father's displeasure. But it didn't take long to understand why her father disapproved. Neal Quinlan thought he was the answer to a maiden's prayers, and his main interest in life was sex. Fending off his straying hands had kept her busy on their second date. And he became offended when she declined to go out with him a third time. In fact, he barely spoke to her afterward.
"Oh, Neal ... darling, darling, darling!" her mother sighed deliriously.
Anger began welling inside Gwen. Her father had been dead less than four months now ... and her supposedly grief-stricken mother was joyfully cleaving to another man. Most galling of all was her choice of Neal Quinlan as a bedmate. No decent woman would keep company with him, much less invite him into her bedroom. What's more, Neal Quinlan was only twenty-nine years old and her mother was past forty-six.
Gritting her teeth, Gwen rapped on her mother's door. "Mom," she called out loudly.
"I-is that you, Gwen?" came the startled reply. "Yes. May I come in?"
"I I'm busy right now, dear. I'll be out shortly."
Gwen took a deep breath. "What about Neal?" Her voice was edged with sarcasm.
"I I'll be there in a second," her mother responded after a brief silence.
A moment later, Gwen heard her mother unlocking the door. Then the flustered woman stepped out into the hall. She was barely five-feet-five, weighed little more than a hundred pounds, and she was clutching a man's robe about her fragile figure. Perspiration beaded her flushed face, and she was as starry-eyed as a bride on the morning after her wedding night.
"Neal and I were married yesterday afternoon," her mother trilled happily, holding up a marriage certificate. "We had intended keeping it a secret for a few months yet, but you surprised us..."
Gwen stared open-mouthed at the certificate of marriage. She could hardly believe her eyes.
"Where's Arnold?" her mother asked, glancing toward the nearby stairs.
"I've left him," Gwen fibbed numbly. "We're getting a divorce."
"Oh. I'm sorry."
"I I think I'll go to my room and take a nap," Gwen stammered, not quite knowing what to say to her mother. "I didn't get any sleep last night."
"We can talk later," her mother enthused, patting her shoulder. "I'll explain everything then. Everything happened so quickly..."
In her old bedroom, Gwen stripped to the skin and crawled into bed. But she couldn't get to sleep right away. She kept thinking about her mother's marriage to Neal Quinlan, of all people. Any fool could figure out why he'd married her. Papa had left her quite a bit of money and property, to say nothing of a thriving realty business. No wonder Neal had swept her off her feet. He had nothing to lose ... and a small fortune to gain.
For a while, Gwen considered jolting her flighty mother with the all-too-obvious truth. Finally, however, she decided not to say anything at all. Nothing is so unforgivable as the truth, she realized. And if Neal kept her mother happy, what did his motives matter?
Gwen drifted off into a deep sleep of physical and emotional exhaustion. When she awoke, late that afternoon, she was startled to find Neal Quinlan standing by the side of her bed. The tall, blonde man was grinning down at her with amused blue eyes.
"What a sleepyhead you are," he drawled, his grin widening. "I called you half a dozen times before you even started stirring."
Suddenly, Gwen realized that the bedcovers were pushed down about her waist. And Neal's gaze was sliding over her naked breasts. She pulled the covers up to her chin, wondering how long he'd been looking down at her. Then she wondered if he had pushed the bedcover down. She wouldn't put it past him.
"Lily sent me up to tell you that dinner is ready," he explained. "Hurry, before it gets cold." His lips twisted into a lopsided grin. "The hotter it is, the better it is, you know."
Gwen frowned. "I'll be down in a few minutes."
"By the way," Neal smiled, making no move to leave, "-I hope you don't mind having me for a stepfather."
"I hadn't thought of you in that way." So far as she was concerned, he was merely an opportunist who had married her silly mother.
"I'm glad," Neal aid, flashing her an overly-friendly smile. "I don't want you to think of me in that way."
After he left the room, Gwen couldn't help wondering if Neal had a more intimate relationship in mind. Then she shrugged it off. The very idea was preposterous....
* * *
Approximately two weeks later, on a Monday morning, Gwen drifted upward from a deep sleep. It seemed that something was moving over her. Blinking open her eyes, she found Neal Quinlan sitting on the edge of her bed. The bedcovers were pushed down to her waist and he was fondling her breasts!
"What in hell do you think you're doing?" she exploded, trying to push him away.
"I'm caressing the most fabulous breasts in the whole wide world," he grinned broadly.
Gwen glanced toward the open door. "Get out of here this instant!" she hissed. "If mother-"
"Don't worry about her. She's at the beauty parlor."
"I don't give a damn where she is," Gwen raged. "You get out of here and stay out!"
"You don't mean that," Neal said confidently.
"The hell I don't!"
A smug grin spread across his face. "You don't have to pretend with me, Gwen. I know the score, and you needn't worry about me telling your mother."
"What are you talking about?"
Neal laughed. "During the past two weeks, more than a dozen guys have told me about you. They say you're the hottest thing ever to hit this town. The queen of nymphos, in fact." His grin widened into a smirk. "They say you're the absolute tops in bed ... anything for a thrill. And they say that you like to go on and on for hours. Matter of fact, a couple of guys claim that you wore both of them down one night last week."
Gwen avoided Neal's piercing gaze. After returning home, she had tried to control her ravenous man-hunger but it was impossible to deny her fiery need. Each day, inevitably, she had been forced to seek out a man ... in a bar, on the street, or in a restaurant. She just couldn't help herself.
"What you need is a real he-man who can't get enough," Neal smiled. "Like me, for instance."
"Don't be ridiculous!"
"Why not give me a try and find out for yourself," he drawled lazily. "After the first time, you'll beg me from then on, I promise you. I'll give you more and bigger thrills than-"
"How can you even think of such a thing?" she cut in, feeling a little nauseated. "It's disgusting."
"Who do you think you're kidding, honey?"
"I can think of nothing more disgusting than sleeping with my mother's husband. The very idea is revolting."
"Once you sleep with me, Gwen, you won't give a damn about me being married to your mother. Believe me!"
"I have no intention of sleeping with you ever. So, get out of here and-"
"If you won't give it to me," he interrupted, "then I guess I'll have to take it. How about that?"
"You wouldn't dare. I'd tell mother-a lot of things."
Neal stopped smirking. "Oh, well ... you'll come around in time. I can wait."
"Don't hold your breath."
"You have no idea what you're missing," he said, again smiling confidently. "Just listen to your mother some night. She never knew it could be so terrific."
"You're horrible!"
Neal laughed coarsely. "Within a month, you'll be begging me to drug your mother at bedtime and hurry into your room. Wait and see!"
"I wouldn't sleep with you if you were the last man on this earth, you dirty sonofabitch!"
* * *
A week later, in the middle of the night, Gwen was awakened by someone pounding on her door. Struggling to a sitting position, she called out, "What's the matter?"
"Your mother is ill," Neal replied. "She needs you right away."
Gwen leaped out of bed, pulled on a robe. Racing across the room, she unlocked her door and dashed out into the hall. Instantly, she skidded to a halt. Neal was leaning against the wall beside her door, grinning from ear to ear and his tall, lean frame was stark naked!
Before Gwen could gather her startled wits, Neal grabbed her and forced her back into her bedroom. Then he kicked the door shut behind them.
"Get out of here or I'll scream!" Gwen panted, tearing out of his grasp.
"Your mother won't hear you," he laughed. "I gave her enough sleeping powder to knock out a horse."
"You-you fiend!"
"And don't give me that business about telling her I got fresh with you," he went on smugly. "She wouldn't believe you not after I got through telling her what I know about you."
"I don't care what you tell her."
"Wanta bet?" he chuckled softly. "You see, I made it a point to do some checking on you, and I'm positive you wouldn't want your mother to know what I found out."
"W-what are you talking about?" Icy fingers of fear gripped her.
"You didn't leave Arnold," he grinned. "Arnold threw you out. And you're not divorcing him. He's divorcing you. Rumor has it that you were whoring around behind his back, at five bucks a throw. And
I know for a fact that he and two detectives crashed one of your parties and caught you entertaining three guys." His grin widened, and he nodded smugly. "No, you won't tell your mother anything about me. And if you dared, I'd tell her you made the advances ... that you've been after me from the start. She'd believe me, and she'd throw you out of the house. What's more, when I got through spreading the news about your activities in Pasadena, you'd be run out of town pronto, babe."
"You--! " Gwen was so furious that she couldn't think of a name vile enough to characterize Neal Quinlan.
"But don't worry, honey," he continued, eyes sparkling brightly. "I'm not going to tell a soul as long as you cooperate with me."
"I'll be damned if I will!"
"You might as well get used to the idea. We're going to be seeing a lot of each other from now on." He started ambling toward her. "You know you want to, anyway."
"Stay away from me," Gwen warned.
Grinning broadly, he leaped forward and encircled her with strong arms. She tried to escape, but couldn't. Then he started tugging at her robe. In less than a minute he pulled the garment from her struggling body. And then he shoved her toward the bed, forced her down on her back. Holding her wrists tightly, he pinned her down with his body. Firmly.
"Struggle all you like," he laughed. "It feels good."
"Let me go!" she demanded.
For several minutes he tried to arouse her with fiery kisses. To no avail.
"Aw, come on, Gwen," he panted. "Relax and enjoy it. You won't be sorry, believe me." Then, in caressing tones, he said, "You've been driving me out of my mind ever since you came back home, honey.
Day and night, I can't get you out of my mind. You've got the most beautiful body in the whole world, and I've got to have it no matter what I have to do to get you."
"Never!" She tried to wrench free again.
Almost desperately, he crushed her lips beneath his avid mouth, kissed her with frenzied passion. All the while, he kept pressing against her. Still, she felt nothing but revulsion.
"I've got to have you," he muttered thickly. "In all my life I've never wanted any woman so much. Oh, Gwen ... you don't know how good I'll be to you."
Trembling with excitement, he forced his tongue into her mouth. She almost gagged. A second later, with all her might, she bit his flickering tongue.
Neal jerked away with an ear-splitting howl of pain. Blood oozed from his mouth. Slowly, he sag-to the floor on his knees.
Leaping to her feet, Gwen snatched up die flower vase on her bedside table. With both hands she raised it high in the air and then smashed it down upon the top of Neal's head. The vase shattered into a thousand pieces. And Neal crumpled into an unconscious heap.
Gwen dressed hastily, packed two suitcases, and then hurried out of the room before Neal regained consciousness. Seconds later, she walked down the front steps for the last time. She knew she could never return home again.
4
Gwen went to Los Angeles, rented a small apartment near MacArthur Park, and then set out to find work. As it turned out, finding a job wasn't difficult for a girl with her beauty. Keeping a job, however, seemed an impossibility. Invariably, she always got involved with her boss ... and, invariably, the boss's wife insisted that he get rid of her. And so it went throughout the following nine months.
Keeping a job wasn't Gwen's only difficulty during this period. Half a dozen times, at least, she was asked to move. Her various landlords wouldn't put up with the plethora of men entering her apartment at all hours of the night and departing in the wee hours of the morning.
In April, shortly after her twenty-second birthday, Gwen was again asked to move. At that time she had an apartment in Hollywood. Upon receiving the eviction notice, she immediately set out to find another place.
Nearby, on Highland Avenue, she noticed a vacancy sign in front of a large apartment building. Hurrying inside, she located the landlady and inquired about the rental.
"It won't be available until next week," the tall, thin-faced woman informed her, "but you can take a look at it now and decide whether or not you want it."
Gwen followed the rail of a woman to a rear apartment on the ground floor. At the door, the landlady jabbed at the doorbell as if she had a grudge against it.
"Who is it?" called out a feminine voice with a heavy southern accent.
The landlady snorted. "It's Mrs. Pike. Open the door."
Seconds later the door swung open and a beautiful girl stepped into view. She was approximately twenty-one years of age, five-foot-five, and she looked something like a Dresden doll. Her shoulder-length hair was platinum blonde, her large eyes as blue as a mountain lake, and her delicate features were perfectly proportioned. What's more, she had a beautiful shape, too.
"This young woman wants to look at the apartment," Mrs. Pike snapped, marching inside.
"All right," the blonde sighed, her eyes contracting with some inner hurt. "I was just getting ready to go out."
Mrs. Pike led Gwen across the living room, showed her the kitchenette. Then they crossed to the bedroom. As they entered, Gwen spotted a breathtaking photograph on the dressing table, The picture was of a handsome young man with a terrific build, and he was nude except for a brief posing strap which emphasized his manliness. Gwen couldn't help staring at the fascinating sight.
"I want to make one thing clear right now," Mrs. Pike announced a few moments later as they reentered the living room. "If you take this apartment, Miss Gordon, you'll have to conduct yourself decently." Pausing, she glared at the blonde, who was about to leave the apartment. "No men traipsing in at all hours of the night and morning."
Instantly Gwen knew that this apartment wasn't for her.
"By the way, you're not a model, are you?" the hatchet-faced woman asked suspiciously, eyeing her face and figure.
"No, I'm not."
"What kind of work do you do?"
"I have been doing office work. But I'm between jobs right now."
Mrs. Pike's thin face grew even more forbidding. "In that case I wouldn't be interested in renting to you, Miss Gordon. I prefer steady, reliable tenants."
"I'm sorry I wasted your time," Gwen said, turning to leave. "Goodbye."
As Gwen walked out of the building, she spotted the shapely blonde getting into a red convertible at the curb. The blonde started the engine, then glanced up at her as she neared the sidewalk.
"Can I give you a lift somewhere?" the girl asked.
"Thank you," Gwen replied, "but I'm not headed any place in particular. Just apartment hunting."
"Then you didn't rent my place?"
Gwen shook her head.
"You're just as well off," the blonde said in confidential tones. "That Mrs. Pike is snoopy as can be, and she has ugly thoughts, too. She called me a two-bit prostitute! Can you imagine that?" Her wide, blue eyes filled with hurt. "Why, I've never charged any man in my life and lots of guys offer to pay me, too." Gwen restrained a smile.
"I don't know why it is," the blonde went on, with child-like innocence, "but some people act like it's awful to have men friends. I just can't understand why. Good gracious, what else is there to do with your evenings? And if you don't give a guy a real good time, then he gets mad and goes away." She let out a deep sigh. "I like to make men happy. Don't you? What I mean is ... it's so nice to have happiness around you. When you're alone, all by yourself, you feel so lonesome and blue that you want to cry. I don't like being all alone. Do you?"
"I think I know what you mean," Gwen sympathized.
"You know," the blonde continued, her blue eyes clouding with sadness, "this is the fourth time I've been asked to move since last October. Isn't that awful?"
"I've had the same trouble," Gwen sighed.
"Then you like to make men happy, too?"
Gwen almost laughed out loud. "Well let's say that I enjoy their company."
"You know what we ought to do?" the blonde said, nodding her head emphatically, "we ought to rent us a house, so we could do like we please."
"That might be a good idea," Gwen mused out loud.
"If we shared the expenses, we could get a nice place out in the hills somewhere. With a bedroom for each of us. Isn't that a good idea?"
Sharing a house with another girl hadn't occurred to Gwen. "I'm not sure," she hedged.
"Why not?"
"Well-I, we've only just met," Gwen responded lamely. "You don't know anything about me, and-"
"My goodness, I could tell you were a nice person the minute I saw you," the blonde cut in, perfectly serious. "You're real friendly-like, and everything. I just know you couldn't be a bad influence for me."
Gwen restrained another smile.
"I wonder where we'd have to go to find out about renting a house out in the hills?" the pretty little blonde went on thoughtfully.
"To a rental agency, I imagine."
"Let's go find out," the girl enthused.
"Don't you think we ought to get to know each other a little better before making such a decision?" Gwen said. "Actually, we don't even know each other's name."
"Oh." The blonde giggled, as if Gwen had told a very amusing joke. "I didn't even think about that. My name is Delia Lee, but everybody calls me Daffy. Isn't that the silliest nickname you ever heard?"
It fit the wacky southern belle to a T, Gwen reflected.
"Let's see now," Daffy rambled on, "-what else should I tell you about myself? I come from North Carolina, and I ran away from home when I was sixteen. Because my daddy was so mean. And then I came to Hollywood, to get in the movies. But I haven't worked in any pictures yet." She paused to take a deep breath. "I've done lots of modeling, though. And I get good pay for it. Especially when I pose in the nude. I do that a lot. Sometimes," she lowered her voice, "the photographers hire me to pose with men. But those pictures are for private collections."
"Suppose the police ever got hold of the pictures?" Gwen frowned.
"They wouldn't know it was me. I wear a black wig."
"I still don't think it's a good idea."
"Why not? My goodness, what's so wrong with having sex? I just can't understand why some people act like it's real terrible. What's the matter with them?"
Gwen laughed lightly. "I wouldn't know."
"What's your name?" Daffy asked. "Gwen Gordon."
"What kind of work do you do?"
"Nothing in particular, I'm afraid."
"You ought to be in the movies, you're so pretty and everything," Daffy commented. "I know I could get some modeling jobs for you if you'd be interested. You wouldn't have to pose in the nude. You'd make a good fashion model, I bet. Lots of photographers like real tall girls."
Gwen liked the idea of modeling for a living. She wouldn't be confined to a stuffy office all day, for one thing. And the pay would be much better, no doubt. Perhaps this meeting with Daffy Lee was a stroke of good luck.
And as for sharing a house with the wacky blonde ... why not? She could have callers as often as she pleased. With someone sharing expenses, she'd be able to afford a nicer place. And she was damned sick and tired of having to move every month or two.
Yes ... perhaps this was a lucky day...
5
Two weeks later, Gwen and Daffy Lee found a two-bedroom house which suited them perfectly. It was located in a sparsely settled area of Laurel Canyon, a few miles north of Hollywood. And their nearest neighbor lived an eighth of a mile down the road.
When Daffy was unpacking, Gwen again spotted the photograph which had intrigued her when she was inspecting Daffy's former apartment ... the picture of the nearly nude young man with a terrific physique. Golly, but he looked like a lot of man, she sighed to herself. She wished she had him in bed right that minute.
"Who's the Adonis?" she asked, pointing at the photo.
"That's Tommy Jakuszy," Daffy replied. "He's a male model. Isn't he scrumptious-looking?"
"I'll say," Gwen nodded. Then, with a soft laugh, she added, "He can park his posing strap under my pillow any old time."
"He charges women for his services."
Gwen raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"He's a real funny guy," Daffy went on blithely. "Most of die photographers don't like him at all."
"Because he charges women for his services?"
"I guess that's part of it. But mostly because he-likes men better than girls, I think. They say he'd pay a he-man for his company."
"Ugh!" Gwen shuddered, suddenly repelled by the mere sight of the photograph. "I can think of nothing more nauseating than one man sleeping with another unless it's the thought of one woman slobbering over another." She shuddered again, even more violently, "Ugh!"
"I wonder what it would be like," Daffy said thoughtfully. "Sometime I think I'll find out. I like to know about all kinds of interesting things."
"The day you walk in the front door with a lesbian," Gwen frowned, "then I'm going to walk out the back door. And I won't be coming back."
"I didn't say I really wanted to, Gwen. I'm just curious, that's all."
"Ugh!"
"I probably wouldn't enjoy it any more than sleeping with a man," Daffy sighed.
"What do you mean by that?"
"I don't get any thrills when a guy makes love to me," the blonde explained, her face growing sad. "Lots of girls have told me how wonderful it feels, and everything but I've never felt anything like that." She sighed again. "I try real hard, too."
"But if you get no pleasure out of it," Gwen puzzled, "then why do you run around so much?"
"Men are real affectionate in bed," Daffy shrugged, "and I like a lot of affection. How else would I get it?" Her sad expression faded, and a sunny smile spread across her race. "Besides, when a man comes along who thrills me to pieces, then I'll know he's the right guy for me. And I'll marry him and not fool around with other men any more."
Gwen shook her head. "Life isn't that simple, Daffy."
"Maybe not. But it's nice to dream that everything is going to work out all right. Daydreams are so nice and beautiful. Everybody is kind to you, loves you and nobody hurts you. Nobody..." Her eyes grew sad again.
"Has somebody hurt you very much?" Gwen asked in comforting tones.
"My daddy used to beat me all the time," Daffy replied, with a catch in her voice. "He was the meanest man I ever saw. And you know something? He pretended to be the most righteous man in town. But he enjoyed seeing a person in pain. He said it was good for the soul." She swallowed with great difficulty. "When I was fourteen, I disobeyed my daddy's warning not to let a boy do anything to me. I didn't really want to let the boy do it-but he was so affectionate that I just couldn't say no. And I guess I was curious to see what it was like, too." Pausing, she took a deep breath. "That nice boy had barely got started when my daddy walked in on us. Oh, it was awful! My daddy kicked him senseless and me, too."
"Don't talk about it any more," Gwen said. Even now, she could tell the memory was still painful to Daffy.
"Maybe all that kicking tore something loose inside of me," the blonde quavered. "Maybe that's why I don't get any thrills."
"It's possible, I suppose. Then, too, it might be due to a mental block of some kind."
"A fellow said the same thing to me once, but I didn't understand what it was all about." She frowned in puzzlement. "Explain it to me, will you?"
"Do you have a particular boyfriend?" Daffy asked her a short time later.
"No." Gwen laughed. "I'm waiting for the right guy to come along, too." , "What is your dream man like?"
"Oh, I dunno," Gwen said dreamily. "I'd like him to be a few inches taller than I am ... strong, yet gentle ... with a sense of humor. And, of course, I'd like him to be a lot of man in all ways. He'd like sex as much and as frequently as I do. He'd be able to satisfy me so completely that I wouldn't want other men. And he'd slap me down if I got out of line. A real man . .
"With your face and figure," Daffy observed, "I'm surprised that some guy hasn't snapped you up already. Asked you to marry him, I mean."
"I have been married. As a matter-of-fact, the divorce won't be final until July."
Gwen told her, from start to finish, leaving out nothing. It was a relief, having a friend she could talk to ... even a screwball like Daffy.
* * *
A few evenings later Gwen met Max King. Max was one of the commercial photographers for whom Daffy worked, and Daffy invited him to the house to meet Gwen. The blonde felt certain that Max would agree with her that Gwen should seek work as a photographer's model.
Max King was in his mid-forties, six feet tall, and somewhat on the stout side. The moment he walked inside the house, the hefty man reached out and began fondling Daffy's breasts. Then he spotted Gwen, and his eyes almost popped out of their sockets.
"This is the girl friend I was telling you about," Daffy said. "Her name is Gwen Gordon."
"Daffy tells me that you're interested in becoming a model," Max nodded, eyeing Gwen lecherously.
"That's right." she responded.
"You've got the looks and the figure, all right," he smiled, "but it takes more than that. If you're a prude, you're wasting your time."
Gwen laughed lightly. "So Daffy tells me."
"Sweetheart," Max said to Daffy, "why don't you go wash your hair, or something, so your friend and I can get acquainted."
"My hair doesn't need washing," the blonde frowned, taking the suggestion literally. "I washed it this afternoon."
"Then go someplace and curl up with a good book," Max chuckled. "In other words, I want to be alone with your friend to discuss the modeling field, of course."
"Oh, I see," Daffy murmured, heading for her bedroom. "Well ... call me if you want anything."
"I think we'll make out all right," Max assured her. Then, turning back to Gwen, he said, "Well, now ... do you mind if I ask you some very personal questions?"
"Not at all."
"First," he said, "do you have any compunctions about posing in the raw?"
"No. But I wouldn't pose for pornographic pictures."
"Why not? Do you find lewd pictures offensive?"
"No, I rather enjoy looking at them," she said truthfully. "But posing for them is too risky. For that reason alone, I wouldn't."
"Okay," he shrugged, "but how about entertaining some of my clients? If I don't keep them happy, they'll take their business elsewhere. And nothing keeps a client so happy as pretty women who aim to please."
"I wouldn't object to that," Gwen smiled.
"Good," Max nodded, rubbing his hands together briskly. "Now how about pulling up your skirt and letting me inspect your legs?"
Gwen pulled up her skirt. The stout man eyed her long legs appreciatively, began licking his lips.
"Beautiful!" he exclaimed. "I never saw better, and I've seen plenty." Reaching out, he ran his chubby hands over her silken thighs. "Exquisite!"
Gwen's breasts started rising and falling breathlessly.
"And now," Max went on, "how about pulling off your blouse and your bra?"
Without the least hesitation she unbuttoned her blouse and tossed it aside. Then she unfastened her bra and discarded it. Her big, firm breasts swung wild and free.
Max caught his breath loudly. "Great balls of fire!" he boomed in bug-eyed astonishment. "I was almost positive that you were using some padding. But they're for real!" He stood as if transfixed. "In all my life," he breathed raggedly, "I never say anything so magnificent!"
"Then you think I'd make a good model?" Gwen asked.
His perspiring hands moved over her breasts. "But definitely. I want you to work for me exclusively."
"Thank you very much."
"You can thank me in bed," he murmured breathily.
"How about it now?"
"I'm a very thankful girl," Gwen laughed as she began stripping off the rest of her clothing.
A short time later in her bedroom Gwen set out to show Max King how grateful she could be. He was very much impressed, decided to spend the remainder of the night with her. Much to her delight.
"Do you think your clients will like me?" she teased, when the hefty man fell away from her the second time.
"Oh, honey," he gasped for each breath, "you're going to bring in more business than I can possibly handle. That's for sure!"
And thus Gwen embarked upon an exciting and profitable modeling career...
6
On a particular morning in mid-September, Gwen was awakened by the jangling of the telephone on her bedside table. Glancing at her wristwatch, she saw that it was almost ten o'clock. Time to get up, anyway.
Picking up the receiver, she nestled it against her ear. "Hello," she mumbled, stifling a yawn.
"Gwen, baby, are you awake?" Her caller was Max King, for whom she'd been working the past four months.
"Yes, I'm awake, Max."
"Well, I've got some interesting news for you," he enthused. "How'd you like to work in a movie?"
"What kind of movie?" she asked suspiciously.
Max laughed, "The legitimate kind, honey. At one of the major studios."
"I'm no actress, and you know it."
"So what? This town is filled with actresses who can't act but make a living at it. Anyway, it wouldn't hurt you to give it a whirl. What have you got to lose?"
"Nothing, I suppose. But I'm just not particularly interested, Max. I don't want to make a complete fool of myself."
"If the pay is good, what do you care?"
Gwen sighed. "What is this all about, anyway?"
"I just had a phone call from Jared Tignor an actor's agent and he's very interested in meeting you," Max said. "He's seen some pictures of you, and he thinks he can get quite a bit of movie and TV work for you. In particular, there's a part in some movie that he's positive he can line up for you right away."
"But I can't act!" she protested.
"With your shape, baby, who gives a damn?" Max snorted. "At least you could try. As a matter-of-fact, I'd consider it a favor if you'd play up to this agent. In my racket it's good business to get important people indebted to you. And this guy knows a lot of other important people, too. It would be nice to have him owing me a favor."
"Why didn't you say so to start with?" Gwen yawned. "I presume you want me to give him the time of his life?"
"Right!"
"Okay. When does he want to see me?"
Max laughed. "He wants you to spend this weekend with him at Palm Springs. But I think he's serious about representing you for movie and TV work."
"I'll bet," Gwen scoffed.
"Can you be ready to leave by noon?" Max asked. "Sure."
"Okay, honey. I'll call Tignor back and give him the green light."
Shortly before noon Gwen saw a black Cad pull up in front of the house. She recognized Tared Tignor from the description Max had given her. The actor's agent was a shrimp of a man, barely five-foot-five, and he weighed little more than a hundred and twenty pounds. Although he was forty-two years old, he looked no more than twenty. And he was puffing away on a big, black cigar.
Gwen hurried outside. As she approached the car, she was very much aware of Jared Tignor's scrutiny. Apparently the little man was impressed. He almost swallowed his cigar.
"Hello," she smiled as she sank down on the seat beside him. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Tignor."
"Call me Jay," he mumbled, his gaze moving over her big breasts. Then: "You're even more impressive than your pictures, doll baby. I like big women."
Gwen tried to imagine what it would be like with the little man. The prospect wasn't at all exciting. She doubted that she'd enjoy spending the weekend with him. By the time she got back home, she reflected, she'd probably be out of her mind with frustration.
"Don't worry," he said, reading her thoughts, "I'm not as boyish as I look."
Throughout the drive to Palm Springs, Jay Tignor talked mostly about getting movie and TV work for her. He was perfectly serious about it, too. And he paid no attention to her declarations that she couldn't act her way out of a paper bag.
"I can get you a good part in a big picture that's coming up soon," he said confidently, puffing on a fresh cigar. "There aren't any lines, so you don't have to worry about speaking. It's the part of a burlesque queen, and all you'd have to do is perform a sexy dance. You could do that, couldn't you?"
"Well-I, yes."
"You'll be terrific," he nodded. "You've got what it takes to go places, baby."
Gwen frowned. "I'm not sure I want to 'go places'. That is, I'm not keen about booming a public figure. I like my privacy too much."
"Of course," Jay went on, "you'll have to sleep with a few producers now and then. And some of the big male stars, too." He exhaled a large cloud of smoke. "Yeah, honey, you could get plenty of work if you'd set your mind to it. Half the men in Hollywood will be dying to get you into bed. Believe me! Stacked Amazons are a novelty."
Gwen smiled to herself. It would be most exciting to have some of the big male stars chasing after her and bedding her. like Big Buck Dixon, the TV star. Every time she saw that gigantic man on the screen wow! Just the sight of him got her so worked up that she couldn't sit still. And some of the other he-man stars got her a little shook up, too.
"How about giving it a try?" Jay asked, as they neared Palm Springs.
"Well-I ... all right."
Seconds later, Jay turned onto a sideroad and headed toward a large house nearby. The estate belonged to one of his clients, he explained. He'd borrowed the place for the weekend.
As soon as they entered the luxurious house, Jay Tignor suggested that they strip and take a swim. The pool was heated, he assured her. Also, a portion of the swimming pool was inside the living room. They could remain inside the house, if she liked, or dive in here and swim underwater to the larger portion outside the house.
"It doesn't matter to me," Gwen said, unzipping her pale green dress and stepping out of it.
The little man shed his clothing, all the while watching her closely. "You're really going places, honey!" he exclaimed, after she tossed her bra and panties aside.
"You're quite a guy yourself," she laughed lightly.
"On second thought," Jay said, "Let's forget about the swim for a while. I can think of more interesting things to do."
"Such as?"
He told her, bluntly.
Gwen let him push her down on the divan. Then he sat beside her outstretched body, caressed her leisurely. Soon she began writhing with desire. But Jay made no move to take her, even though he was panting with excitement.
Finally, Gwen could wait no. longer. She pulled the little man down beside her, then rose above him.
"Good girl!" he breathed heavily. "Like I said before you're really going places, honey."
After a time he took the initiative savagely. In fact, his forcefulness was brutal. Perhaps, Gwen decided, the little man was trying to beat her down to his size. But no two men had ever been able to do that...
* * *
Two weeks later Gwen worked in her first movie. She appeared in only two scenes, and had no dialogue to worry about. Her role was that of a streetwalker. To her surprise, no retakes were necessary. But, then, it took no acting ability to flaunt her wares in front of a man, she reflected with amusement. And if the truth were known, she played the two scenes for real ... later sleeping with the two actors with whom she had worked.
By the end of November, Gwen had played small but flashy parts in three movies and two TV shows. In addition, she'd slept with more than a dozen producers, several male stars, half a dozen directors, and a few casting officials. Still, she cared little about being an actress. But she thoroughly enjoyed the variety of 'casting couches' on which she displayed her talents.
Early in December, Gwen was assigned to play the part of the burlesque queen in the important movie that Tignor had mentioned. The director, she was told, was one of the best in the business Otto Von Eycker. Everyone said that Von Eycker could get a good performance out of a statue. Which was almost true.
On the first day of shooting, Gwen found out how Otto Von Eycker got such good performances out of actors with whom he worked. He was a stern disciplinarian, a perfectionist, and a slave-driver. Even the most insignificant scene was shot over and over again until he got the effect he wanted and woe be unto the actor who made retakes necessary. Von Eycker had a vitriolic tongue, and a cold, contemptuous stare which made one feel like the scum of the earth. Everyone seemed in awe of him.
From the very beginning, Gwen felt ill-at-ease every time she walked upon the set. Von Eycker's piercing gaze disturbed her greatly. He kept eyeing her closely ... the way a cat watches a mouse, it seemed to her. And his eyes were not lustful, either. They were cold and hard even frightening. She couldn't help shivering every time she noticed him staring at her.
Gwen's scenes were completed in three days. She let out a deep sigh of relief when the ordeal was over. She could hardly wait to get off the set. But just as she was leaving the soundstage, she was halted by a commanding male voice. Even before she turned to answer she knew who had called out to her. She tensed with uneasiness.
"Yes?" she responded, turning to face Von Eycker.
The tall, slender man emerged from the shadows, handed her a calling card. "This is my home address," he said stiffly. "I'm having a party tonight. Be there at eight o'clock sharp."
Gwen frowned. Von Eycker was not extending an invitation; he was issuing a command. She considered telling him that she had a previous engagement, then decided against it. Von Eycker was too important to be brushed off. Besides, maybe he was interested in her, after all. Why else would he invite her to a party?
"All right," she murmured, avoiding his direct gaze. "I'll be there."
As soon as Gwen reached home she telephoned Jay Tignor. After telling him that she'd completed her part in Von Eycker's picture, she mentioned that the famed director had invited her to attend a party at his home that evening.
"You didn't accept, did you?" Jay sounded alarmed.
"Yes."
"Don't you dare go!" Jay ordered, explosively. "Why not?"
"That guy isn't having any party this evening," Jay scoffed. "That is, you won't find any other guests there. You're the party he intends throwing."
"Is that bad?" she asked, wondering why the little man spoke so bitterly.
"You're damned right it's bad for you." His voice grew contemptuous. "That bastard is a sadist. By the time he got through with you, you wouldn't be able to work for a month or two. I know, because he once invited another of my clients to one of his par-ties.
"What did he do to her?"
"He chewed her to pieces, burned her with cigarettes among other things. Don't you dare get mixed up with that nut!"
"Okay." She shuddered, realizing that her call to Jay had saved her from a horrifying experience. "I'll steer clear of Von Eycker, believe me."
That evening, at twenty minutes past eight, Gwen and Daffy were dressing to go out for the evening when the telephone began ringing insistently. Gwen answered. She'd dismissed Otto Von Eycker from her mind, was startled when she recognized his voice.
"You were supposed to be here at eight o'clock sharp," he barked angrily.
"I'm terribly sorry," she said, "but something has come up. I won't be able to attend your party."
A long silence hummed along the wire. Then, finally he asked, "How about next Saturday night?"
"I I'm afraid not," she stammered, trying to think of a plausible reason for declining. "I'm going out of town for an indefinite period. On some personal business."
Again a long silence followed. Then without another word, Von Eycker hung up on her. And that ended the whole matter or so Gwen thought.
7
On the following Saturday evening, at half past seven, Gwen stepped out of the shower and began toweling her wet body. She heard the doorbell ring but paid no attention to it. Daffy would answer it.
Seconds later Daffy rapped on the bathroom door and called out to her. "You've got a visitor."
"Who?" Gwen called back.
"He says his name is Otto Von Eycker."
Gwen frowned. "What does he want?" she asked, tensing with uneasiness.
"I don't know."
"Well, tell him I'm getting ready to go out," Gwen said, as she reached for her panties. "Tell him-"
"Miss Gordon," a deep male voice cut in. It belonged to Von Eycker! Apparently Daffy had brought him to the bathroom door with her ... the bird-brained idiot.
"Daffy, will you take Mr. Von Eycker back into the living room," she snapped in annoyance, stepping into her panties and pulling them up over her sweeping hips. "As soon as I get dressed I'll-"
The unlocked door swung open and Otto Von Eycker stepped inside the bathroom. For a startled moment, Gwen stared foolishly at the audacious intruder.
"You lied to me about going out of town for an indefinite period," he said coldly, his gaze moving over her nearly naked body. "Why did you lie to me?"
"You get out of here this very minute," she cried out angrily, trying to cover her big breasts with her hands. "The very idea of marching in here!"
Von Eycker made no move to leave. "Rumor has it that you're ready, willing and able to take on any producer or director in town," he sneered. "In fact, I was told that you were more than eager ... the queen of red-hot nymphos. So you needn't put on any modest act for me. I know better. I had a detective check on you, and you're so man-crrazy that you'd take on a dozen guys-"
"You get the hell out of here!" Gwen hissed at him venomously.
"Why not me?" he demanded. "Why the brush-off."
"I don't care for your type of party, thank you."
"I have no intention of harming you," he said in icy tones. "On the contrary, I'd like to make passionate love to you. If I put my mind to it and that is my intention I could make you prefer me above all other men. With me, you wouldn't want or need any other man. Believe me!"
"If you don't get out of this bathroom, I'll-"
"No other woman has ever affected me the way you do," the tall, slender man continued, ignoring her threat. "I think I'm in love with you. I can't sleep or eat for thinking about you ... wanting you."
Gwen wasn't about to fall for the sadist's line. Even if he was sincerely crazy about her, she was afraid to get mixed up with him. Such a man was dangerous, no matter how much he cared about a girl.
"I'm sorry," she said, picking up her bra and then thrusting her breasts inside its mammoth cones, "but I don't feel it wise to get involved. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get dressed."
Before Von Eycker could stop her, Gwen marched out of the bathroom and into her bedroom, locking the door behind her. A second later, Von Eycker began pounding on her door and demanding she unlock it.
"Who in hell do you think you are?" she called out angrily. "Get out of this house right now or I'll call the police and have them show you the way out. Enough is enough, and I've had it."
Mumbling unintelligibly, Von Eycker gave up and went away. Gwen let out a sigh of relief. Then she hastened to finish dressing and fix her face. And finally, after arranging her hair, she hurried into the living room.
"Okay, Daffy," she called out, "I'm ready."
Daffy didn't reply, nor did she emerge from her bedroom.
"Daffy?" Gwen called again. Still no response.
Frowning, Gwen strolled over to Daffy's door and rapped loudly. No sound came from within the bedroom. She opened the door, looked inside. Daffy was not there.
A chilling fear swept through Gwen. Had Daffy gone out with Otto Von Eycker! She must have. The wacky blonde didn't have an ounce of common sense.
To make certain of her fears, Gwen ran outside and looked into the garage. Daffy's red convertible was there. Without doubt, Daffy had gone off with the sadistic movie director. Gwen's alarm trebled.
More than likely, she reasoned, Von Eycker would take Daffy to his home in Beverly Hills. And he'd had time enough to reach there by now. At this very moment, she reflected, he might be preparing to torture Daffy!
Gwen clenched her hands tightly. What, oh, what should she do? What could she do to save Daffy? She could drive out to Von Eycker's house, she mused, and demand that he send Daffy outside at once. But, no, she might not get there in time, and Von Eycker might not come to the door. Time was of the essence and Von Eycker had to be frightened into getting Daffy out of the house right away.
An idea wormed its way into Gwen's mind. She mulled it over briefly, then ran back inside the house. Picking up the telephone she dialed Information and asked for the number of the police station in Beverly Hills. A moment later she dialed that number.
"Help me ... help me!" she cried into the mouthpiece as soon as the desk sergeant answered.
"What's the trouble, lady?" he asked anxiously.
"I've been raped," she wailed, "and he intends keeping me here all night. The house is at 10253 Cinema Heights Road, and the man's name is Otto Von Eycker." Then, before the desk sergeant could ask any questions, she lowered her voice and added, "He's coming back now, I have to hang up. Please hurry! Oh, please!" And then she hung up.
After a few seconds Gwen picked up the receiver again. This time she dialed Von Eycker's number. Much to her relief, he answered on the fifth ring.
"This is Gwen Gordon," she said briskly. "Bring Daffy back home right now!! "
"What makes you think she's here?" he snapped.
"I know she's there," Gwen retorted coldly, "and I'd advise you to get her off the premises within the next few minutes before the police arrive."
"What are you talking about?" His voice was edged with alarm. "What makes you think the police are coming here?"
"I called them, buster." She told him exactly what she had reported.
"You can get in big trouble for filing a false report."
"Why don't you stick around there and give my name to the police!" she jeered. "I'll be glad to confess the crime and to tell them why I did it. And don't think I won't." She paused to catch her breath. "You bring Daffy back home pronto or you'll wish you had. And I'm not bluffing, either. What's more, there had better not be a single scratch on her. If you've harmed her in any way, I'm going to raise the biggest stink this town has ever seen."
"I haven't touched her," Von Eycker snarled angrily. "You'd better get a move on," Gwen warned. "The police will be knocking on your door very shortly, now. And if Daffy isn't back here within thirty minutes then I'm going to call the local police and report that you forced her into your car and-"
Von Eycker hung up on her.
Throughout the next twenty-five minutes, Gwen paced worriedly about the living room. Then she heard a car skid to a halt outside. She ran to a front window, saw Daffy step out of Otto Von Eycker's car. A second later the car sped away and Daffy hurried toward the house.
"Are you all right?" Gwen asked, when Daffy came inside.
"Of course," the little blonde replied, sounding like a petulant child. "My goodness, Gwen, what are you kicking up such a fuss about? Why did you make Mr. Von Eycker bring me home?"
"Because he's a-"
"You ruined everything," Daffy cut in sulkily. "He was going to give me a part in one of his pictures if I pretended to be his slave for a while. But now," she pouted, "he's furious with you and won't have anything more to do with either of us. Not even if we got down on our knees and begged him. He told me so."
"That's the best news I've had in a long time," Gwen said emphatically.
"You'll be sorry for making him mad," Daffy warned. "He said he was going to see to it that you don't get very far with your movie career. Oh, but he's furious with you. I never saw anyone so fit to be tied."
"To hell with him," Gwen said flippantly. "I couldn't care less about a movie career. And it's a relief to have that jerk out of my hair for good." She laughed lightly. "He knows better than to bother either of us again. Ever. I showed him, but good, that I wouldn't put up with any of his foolishness."
8
Gwen spent the following Saturday night at Jay Tignor's apartment in Beverly Hills. Besides collecting ten per cent of her earnings, the enterprising agent kiddingly demanded ten per cent of her sex life. Not that she needed urging into the little man's bed. She got a kick out of submitting to him. He was extremely energetic, passionate, and uninhibited.
"There's something I want you to do," Jay said, when they lay resting after a particularly exhausting session of love-making.
Gwen smiled. "You name it and I'll do it, honey."
"This is business," he informed her. "I'm too worn out for anything but talk right now."
"Okay. What is it you want me to do business-wise?"
"I want you to break away from Daffy and get a place of your own. A swank apartment up in the hills overlooking the Strip."
"Oh?" Gwen raised a quizzical eyebrow.
"A couple of producers and directors would like to get acquainted with you on the q.t, and your present set-up makes it impossible. Daffy tells everything she knows, without meaning to do so." Jay nodded thoughtfully. "The most important men in this business can't afford any gossip, you know. But if you had an apartment to yourself where a guy could slip in and out without anyone around to blab, or make him nervous..."
T suppose you're right," Gwen agreed. "Still, I hate to desert Daffy. In spite of her wackiness, I like her a lot. We get along famously. In fact she's the only female friend I've ever had."
"You can still be good friends under separate roofs," Jay said, reaching out to fondle one of her breasts.
"I suppose so."
"Now, if you had a place of your own," Jay continued, "a lot of the big male stars would be calling on you, too. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
"I'd love it." She stretched luxuriously.
"Then it's all settled," Jay spoke with finality. "I'll pick out just the right spot for you this week. You can start packing your things tomorrow. The sooner you move, the better. Okay?"
"You're the boss."
"Good," the little man said as he moved to her. "So much for business. Let's get back to pleasure. Hmm?"
"I'm all for it," she murmured, drawing his face down into the deep valley between her big breasts.
A short time later, Jay began mauling her fiercely ... the way she liked best.
* * *
Jay quickly located an ideal apartment for Gwen. It was in a swank building which overlooked Sunset Strip. She moved within the week, soon began entertaining some of the most famous men in Hollywood. Still, not one of them was able to satisfy her completely. She was more than a little disappointed.
Early in March, shortly after her twenty-third birthday, Gwen received a telephone call from Daffy on a rain-swept morning. The doll-like blonde wanted to know if she could come over to Gwen's apartment that afternoon. She had some wonderful news to tell Gwen.
"By all means," Gwen replied, "come on over. I'm free until six this evening."
Daffy arrived at one o'clock. She pranced inside like an exuberant child, her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkling brightly. Gwen had never seen her so obviously happy.
"What's gotten into you?" she asked Daffy.
"The most wonderful thing," the little blonde sang out deliriously. "I finally found someone who could thrill me to pieces!"
"No kidding?" Gwen was delighted.
"I had no idea it could be so good," Daffy enthused, closing her eyes blissfully. "Oh, but Paul drives me wild. I moan and squirm like something gone crazy. It's like electricity going all through me only bet-
"I know," Gwen laughed.
"I just knew the right person would come along some day," Daffy went on ecstatically. "And I told you I'd get married and settled down, then, didn't I?"
"Yes, you did."
"Well, I've done it," Daffy said gleefully. "I got married yesterday, and I'll never let anybody else but Paul touch me. Oh, but he's out of this world, Gwen."
"I'm so very happy for you."
"We drove down to Tijuana for the ceremony, so we wouldn't have to wait, and things," Daffy said. "I can hardly believe it has happened to me."
"Tell me about him," Gwen encouraged.
"His name is Paul Carmichael," Daffy replied, sighing blissfully, "and he's thirty years old. Very rugged looking ... six feet tall ... with broad shoulders and real slim hips. And, oh, what a lover he is!! "
"What does he do?"
"He kisses every inch of my body teases me with his tongue, and-"
"I wasn't asking what he does in bed," Gwen cut in, laughing. "I wanted to know what kind of work he does."
"Oh ... that." The blonde shrugged. "Well, he's between jobs right now."
"What does he usually do?"
"I don't know," Daffy replied carelessly.
"Didn't you ask?"
"I didn't think about it. After all, Gwen, I've only known him three days."
"Three days?" Gwen blinked in surprise. "Anyway," Daffy went on, "I make enough money for both of us. I don't care if he doesn't work."
"Then he doesn't intend looking for a job?"
"Not for a while. We're going to have a long honeymoon. Paul wants to be with me day and night so he can help me make up for all the thrills I've missed. Isn't that sweet?"
"Where are you going to live?" Gwen questioned.
"At my place, of course. Paul is moving his things in today. And I'm going to see if we can buy the house later."
"I suppose you'll be sharing your bank account, too," Gwen commented, her voice edged with sarcasm.
"Of course." Daffy was oblivious of the barb.
Gwen frowned darkly. Without doubt, Daffy's husband was a human parasite. Love probably had nothing to do with his latching onto the dumb blonde. She made damned good money, could support him in the style to which he would like to become accustomed. And besides being pretty, she had a luscious build. What more could a male leech ask for?
Well, Gwen decided, maybe the guy was worth it to Daffy. He had succeeded in awakening her to the greatest of all pleasures, hadn't he? And he could make her happy, no matter his motives for latching on to her. Perhaps, after all, Paul Carmichael was giving as much as he was receiving. Who was she to judge?
"Will you have dinner with us at my place real soon?" Daffy asked, still bubbling over with happiness. "I've told Paul all about you, and he says he's looking forward to meeting my best friend. Perhaps this weekend?"
"All right," Gwen nodded, somewhat anxious to meet the guy who succeeded in awakening Daffy after so many, many others had failed. "I'll be free on Sunday evening."
"Good," Daffy said happily. "We'll expect you at seven."
"I wouldn't miss it for anything," Gwen assured her.
* * *
On Sunday evening, Gwen met Paul Carmichael-and she didn't like him at all. The moment she walked into the house, his gaze took inventory of her body. Very boldly. And when he shook hands with her, he held her hand much longer and much tighter than necessary. Disgust swept through her. His hand was soft from lack of work.
Gwen didn't like Paul's looks, either. His features were extremely coarse though weak, somehow and his dark eyes seemed a trifle shifty. In addition, his thin lips wore a cynical smirk which made her feel strangely uncomfortable.
"So you're Daffy's best friend," Paul said in a deep, vibrant voice, right after Daffy went into the kitchen to put on the steaks. "She neglected to tell me that you were built like something out of a guy's fanciest daydreams."
Gwen frowned. Paul was sitting beside her on the divan, and his gaze seemed to be undressing her. Staring at her breasts, he licked his lips hungrily.
"What a pair of knockers!" he exclaimed in open admiration. "Mind if I feel?"
"Yes, I do mind," Gwen replied, her frown darkening. "In case you may have forgotten it, you're married to my best friend."
Paul laughed. "Daffy wouldn't care if I played around with you a little so long as I don't go to bed with you." Grinning broadly, he smoothed down his short-cropped black hair. "I'm the best breast man there is. If you don't believe it, just ask Daffy. She'll recommend me highly."
"Keep your hands to yourself," Gwen snapped, when his fingers slid over her knee.
"Don't be so touchy, honey. What's a little feeling around between friends?"
"You and I aren't friends," Gwen bristled, "and at this rate, we aren't likely to become friends, either."
"Daffy tells me you're nympho," Paul said, ignoring her unfriendliness. "She also says that you've never yet found a guy who can satisfy you completely. Is that right?"
"My personal life is no concern of yours," Gwen retorted, becoming a little angry with the blunt-spoken jerk.
"I sure would like to feast my eyes on those big knockers of yours," Paul smiled. "They're really something!"
Gwen rose and started toward the kitchen. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to help Daffy."
After dinner, when the three of them started back into the living room, Gwen was taken by surprise when Paul moved up behind her and slid his right hand over her right breast. Before she could push his hand away, he explored the magnitude of her breast and squeezed the nipple.
Gwen's cheeks grew fiery with anger. But she said nothing. She didn't want Daffy to know what Paul had done. After all, they'd only been married a few days. And Daffy might feel terribly hurt if she knew her bridegroom's hands were straying already.
Later in the evening, when Daffy's back was turned, Gwen was again startled by Paul's busy little hands. This time, he caressed and squeezed her rump. She moved out of his reach, throwing a dirty look at him. Which didn't bother Paul in the least. He grinned broadly and winked at her.
During the next two weeks, Daffy and Paul visited Gwen frequently. Too frequently. Gwen felt certain that Paul was responsible. Every time Daffy's back was turned, he grabbed at Gwen. And whenever Daffy went into the bathroom, he delighted in trying to get a hand under Gwen's skirt. Still, she said nothing to Daffy, wanting to spare the poor kid any hurt. But Gwen's patience was wearing very, very thin.
Then, on a certain morning in late March, Gwen lost the last of her patience with Paul. She was awakened at ten o'clock by the insistent ringing of her doorbell. Drawing a robe about her naked body, she hurried forward to answer the door.
"Who is it?" she called out, before unlocking the safety chain.
"Daffy and me," Paul replied. "We gotta see you."
Gwen was annoyed. When she'd moved into this apartment, she had instructed Daffy never to come over without phoning first. Fortunately, on this particular morning, she didn't have a visitor in her bedroom.
"All right," she grumbled, opening the door, "but-" She stopped short when Paul staggered inside ... alone. "Where's Daffy?" she asked, glancing out into the empty hall. "I thought you said-"
"I lied," Paul mumbled thickly. "I knew you wouldn't let me in all by myself."
"And you're not staying, either," Gwen informed him curtly, holding the door open wide. "Out!"
"I just wanta talk to you," he pleaded, reeling up against the wall and slumping against it for support. Thass all I wanta do, Gwen."
"Out!" she repeated, firmly.
"I can't help being crazy 'bout you," he blubbered. "You're the mosht beau-fid and desirable woman I ever shaw. I think about you all the time. I dream about you all the time. I want you so bad, honey, that I feel like shooting myself because I can't have you ... love you . , . get you to love me."
"Now listen to me, Paul," she said angrily, "you get out of here, and don't you ever come back unless Daffy is with you. And even then, I've had enough of your grabbing at me. If you do it one more time, I'm going to tell Daffy exactly what I think of you and my opinion of you is pretty low, buster."
"I don't want any trouble," he sniveled. "I know I shouldn't have come here, but I jusht couldn't help myself, Gwen. I know I shouldn't paw you, but I can't make my hands be still. I know you won't ever have anything to do with me, and it makes me want to die. I can't help loving you ... wanting you. Oh, Gwen, you just don't know my agony. You'll never know. ... " He began sobbing wretchedly.
Somehow, watching Paul cry disturbed her greatly. His stifled sobs were the epitome of anguish. The sound was like none she had ever heard before ... as if his very soul were crying out with some excruciating pain. This was no mere crying jag, she felt certain. She even felt sorry for him.
"You'd better go now," she said, pretending absolute indifference. "I won't mention your visit to Daffy. However, I'd prefer that you and Daffy didn't come here so often in die future. In fact, I think it would be best if you didn't come at all."
"I guess you're right," Paul muttered sadly.
Gwen was surprised that he agreed. She watched him reel out into the hallway, his shoulders slumping wearily.
"G'bye, Gwen," he mumbled, as he staggered away.
For a long moment, she stood there watching Paul. She felt a little uneasy about the way he gave up without protest. Come to think of it, she felt more than a little uneasy....
9
Six weeks later, in mid-May, Gwen met the man of her dreams....
A few days earlier, Jay Tignor had phoned Gwen and asked, "How would you like a couple of days work in Big Buck Dixon's TV series?"
"I'll do it for nothing," she laughed. "I've been dying to meet him for ages. Oh, but he looks like a lot of man."
"They say he is," Jay chuckled. "Matter of fact, he's supposed to be such a brute that few women will let him even try anything. And while it may not be true, rumor has it that his wife has never been the same since marrying him. At any rate, I do know that it hasn't been a happy marriage. They've been on the verge of divorce for a couple of years."
"Very interesting," Gwen drawled. "Tell me more."
"I don't know Dixon personally," Jay responded. "But they say he's the most frustrated male in Hollywood."
"Maybe I can do something about that," she said in amused tones. "I'd sure as hell like to bag him."
"Well, don't shoot until you see the whites of his eyes," Jay guffawed.
Gwen could hardly wait to report for work on Big Buck Dixon's series. The day finally came, and her heart started pounding madly as she approached the soundstage. Then, when she walked on the set and saw the giant of a man in person, she thought she was going to faint. Just the sight and nearness of the rugged, big man got her so excited that her knees buckled beneath her. Desire raced through her veins like molten lava. She wanted him so frantically that her body literally quaked with her feverish need of him.
Much to Gwen's pleasure, the attraction wasn't one-sided. The moment Buck Dixon spotted her, his eyes widened with interest. Thereafter, throughout the two days she worked on the set, his gaze sought her out frequently ... traveled over every inch of her body. Almost from the start, she felt certain that he wanted her as much as she wanted him.
Unfortunately, to Gwen's despair, she never got the opportunity to be alone with the big man for even a moment. All too soon, she finished her bit role and was dismissed.
"It was a pleasure to work in your series," she said to Buck, just before she started to leave the set.
"The pleasure was all mine," he said politely, as if he'd never even noticed her. And that was that.
Gwen felt sick. She went home and proceeded to get drunk. But that didn't help much. She still wanted Big Buck Dixon more than she had ever wanted any other man.
The next day was Friday. At six o'clock that evening, Gwen's telephone rang. Listlessly, she picked up the receiver and answered. Her caller was Jay Tignor.
"You sound down in the dumps," he commented.
"I am."
"What's the trouble?"
"Nothing in particular and everything in general," she sighed. "I just feel lousy, I guess."
"Well, maybe I can cheer you up," Jay said knowingly. "Big Buck Dixon just phoned me."
Gwen jerked to attention. "Oh?"
"Apparently you drove him nuts the couple of days you worked on his set. He's so hot for you that he can't stand it." Jay chuckled softly. "He thinks you're the most beautiful and exciting woman he has ever seen and he asked if I could arrange for him to meet you on the q.t."
"What did you tell him?" Gwen asked breathlessly.
"I told him that you were equally anxious to get together with him."
Gwen could barely contain her exhilaration. "When does he want to come over?"
"He's leery about going to your place," Jay replied. "He has a hideaway out in Coldwater Canyon, several miles north of Beverly Hills, and he wants to get together with you out there tomorrow evening."
"That suits me just fine. Where is it? And what time should I be there?"
"Dixon prefers not to reveal the address or exact location of his hideaway," Jay informed her. "He wants you to be at the corner of Beverly Drive and Lexington Road at seven-thirty tomorrow evening. He'll pick you up there and take you out to his secret place. Okay?"
"I'll be ready and waiting impatiently," she enthused.
"Good, I'll call him back and let him know it's all
At seven-twenty Saturday evening, Gwen parked her car near the corner of Beverly Drive and Lexington Road. Soon, she spotted Buck Dixon driving past in a white Cad. But he didn't even glance in her direction. Then, a few minutes later, he cruised past again. She guessed that he was making certain the coast was clear.
When Buck approached the third time, he pulled over to the curb in front of her car. Smiling brightly, Gwen hurried forward and sank down on the front seat of the Cad. Darkness prevented her seeing his face clearly, but she could hear his breathing distinctly. It pulsed with excitement ... just as hers did.
"Hello, Gwen," he murmured in a resonant, deep voice which sent dozens of little thrills racing through her.
"Hello, Buck." His nearness made her feel warm all over.
"I hope you don't mind meeting me like this," he said, setting the car in motion again. "Not letting you know the exact location of my hideaway, I mean."
"I don't mind at all."
As they sped northward into the night, he reached out and grasped her left hand. "The moment I saw you," he confided, "I knew I'd never rest easy until I got to know you better. You're the most exciting woman I've ever seen, and that's no line. Just looking at you on the set kept me so stirred up that I couldn't think straight. And I sensed that you felt the same way about me."
"I wanted you so bad that it made me sick," she said breathily. "And the dreams I've had about you
"Tell me about them. In detail. Then I'll do my damnedest to make your dreams come true." She told him graphically.
"I've been looking for you a long, long time," he said huskily. Then: "Jay Tignor tells me that you prefer big men and rough treatment frequendy. Is that true?"
"I've never yet found the man who could satisfy me completely." Her excitement was becoming so intense that she couldn't sit still. "When I find such a man
"This is my hideaway," Buck said in breathless tones, a short time later, pulling up in front of a two-story, redwood house which had not been visible from the nearby road.
As soon as Buck cut the engine, he hopped out of the Cad and hastened to open her door. Then, when she stepped outside, the giant of a man crushed her in the circle of his arms and started kissing her body. Within a very few seconds, they were straining against each other in a primitive dance of raw lust.
Suddenly, neither of them could wait another moment to claim the other. Panting loudly, they pulled each down on the moonlit lawn. Soon, for the first time, Gwen experienced great discomfort with a man exquisite discomfort and she loved it.
Long before the orgiastic evening was over, Gwen knew that Big Buck Dixon was indeed the man of her dreams. Besides being a romantic lover, he liked sex as frequently and as much as she did. And he had no difficulty keeping pace with her, either.
During the next few weeks, she and Buck spent every possible moment together in bed at the secluded redwood house. No matter how much they tried, neither seemed able to get enough of the other.
Almost from the beginning. Gwen fell heels over head in love with Buck. And she could tell that he cared deeply about her, too. In mid-June, he declared his love and asked her to marry him as soon as possible. She was so happy that she cried like a baby.
"If you knew about my past," she wept, "maybe you'd change your mind."
"Wanta bet?" he murmured, holding her close. She told him everything.
"I don't care how many men you took on in the past," he whispered, gathering her beneath his immense body. "I intend seeing to it that you never need anyone else."
"Oh, Buck," she whimpered in adoring tones, tightening her grip on him, "I'll never want anyone but you from now on. Never!"
After that night, Gwen was no longer interested in a career. She gave it up completely. Nothing mattered but being with Buck. And while she kept her Hollywood apartment, for the time being, she began spending all of her time at Buck's hideaway in Coldwater Canyon. In several weeks, if all went well, Buck would be free to marry her. Until that glorious day, discretion was of the utmost importance.
And then, early in July, the anonymous telephone calls had begun....
PART THREE
1
Tuesday evening, the fifteenth of July....
Shortly before seven o'clock, Gwen emerged from her bath and strolled into the master bedroom. Sitting nude at the dressing table, she penciled her eyebrows lightly and then applied a touch of color to her full, red lips. Next, she dabbed a heady perfume on the lobes of her ears, at the base of her throat, in the deep valley between her jutting breasts, in her navel, along her silken thighs, and back of her knees. Then she sway-hipped over to the canopied bed and stretched out on its broad surface.
A few minutes later, Gwen heard a car approaching the hideaway. She recognized the sound of Buck's Cad as it skidded to a halt outside. Instantly, her mammoth breasts began rising and falling with breathless anticipation. She leaped from the bed, hurried to open the bedroom door. She could hardly wait to get her arms around her beloved.
Flinging the door open wide, the flame-haired Amazon stepped out into the hall. Buck's giant frame rushed forward, his strong arms drawing her close against the length of him. With a sigh of contentment, she pressed her breasts tightly against his wide chest, then sought his mouth with eager lips.
"Hello, Big Mama," he breathed huskily, when they paused to catch their breaths. "Have you missed me today?"
"Oh-h, Big Daddy," she moaned, grinding forward, "I couldn't have waited much longer."
The big man chuckled. "Then what are we standing out here for?"
Still clinging to each other tightly, they moved into the bedroom. As they approached the huge bed, Gwen helped him strip. Then he lifted her into his arms and placed her in the center of the bed. Seconds later, he eased himself down upon her straining body.
Gwen began twisting with delight. "Oh, darling ... oh, honey!" she gasped deliriously, clawing into his back.
"I love you ... love you," he panted rhythmically.
Afterward, they rested quietly for a while. Buck lay stretched out on his side, his left arm under her neck, while his right hand moved from one of her breasts to the other ... cupping caressing, toying.
"Did your telephone lover call today?" he asked, when his breathing slowed to its normal pace.
"Yes shortly after one o'clock this afternoon. I was out back, taking a sunbath, when the telephone rang." She frowned thoughtfully. "I tried my damnedest to place his voice, but I just couldn't. It's too well disguised."
"What did he have to say this time?" Buck queried. "He started 'making Jove' to me, as usual and then he got mad because I didn't respond as enthusiastically as he wanted me to." Her frown deepened. "He told me not to count on marrying you, honey. He said he might break up our plans."
* * *
Buck scowled.
"You know," Gwen went on thoughtfully, "he sounded as if he hated my very guts."
"Whoever he is, I'm afraid he intends making trouble."
"This afternoon," Gwen continued, in reflective tones, "I thought back over my life, from the very beginning. There are three men who probably detest me. First, there's my ex-husband Arnold Willoughby. Then there's Neal Quinlan the slob who married my mother. And last, but by no means least Otto Von Eycker." She paused, her green eyes contracting with suspicion. "I've never slept with Neal or Von Eycker, so one of them must be the anonymous caller. But I can't decide which it might be."
"I wouldn't rule out Arnold altogether," Buck put in. "He might claim he's never slept with you just to throw you off the track."
Gwen shook her head. "No, I'm positive it isn't Arnold. I'm sure he has no desire to ever see or speak to me again."
"You never can tell about such things, Gwen. The desire for revenge can wipe out all else."
"Revenge is probably the motive," she conceded, "but I still don't think Arnold is responsible. He has no good reason for wanting to conceal his identity. On the contrary, I believe he'd want me to know who was needling me."
"You may be right."
"On the other hand Neal and Von Eycker do have good reasons for not revealing their identities. Neal, of course, is dependent upon my mother for his support. He wouldn't risk the consequences. And Otto Von Eycker wouldn't risk entanglement with the police." she laughed lightly. "I sent the police to his house once, and he couldn't be certain that I wouldn't call his bluff."
"Neal seems the most logical suspect," Buck said, "but as I pointed out once before your caller could be a stranger to you. It might be some sexually inadequate guy who gets his kicks out of peeping at women and making lewd telephone calls to them."
"That's possible, I suppose."
"Then, too what about Jay Tignor?" Buck questioned. "He might be irked with you for giving up your career to say nothing of wanting you back in his bed again. And he knew we were seeing each other on the sly."
Gwen shook her head again. "No, I don't think it's Jay. I'm not that important to him, I assure you."
"I'd sure as hell do anything to get you back in my bed," Buck chuckled, pulling her closer. Then, when she failed to respond as usual, he looked closely at her troubled face. "I know it's worrisome, sweetheart, but-"
"I don't know why," Gwen mused out loud, "but my thoughts keep darting back to Paul Carmichael the fellow who married my friend Daffy. I have no particular reason to include him on the list of suspects, and yet. ... " Her eyes filled with puzzlement. "For some strange reason, I can't seem to get him out of my mind. And it bothers me very much."
"From what you've told me about Paul, I can't figure out any reason for him to hate you. But, then," Buck shrugged, "who can ever tell what goes on in another person's mind?"
"Paul never exhibited any hatred toward me. But-" The puzzlement in her eyes deepened. T keep remembering that the anonymous caller wants nothing more than to talk to me and, somehow, that brings Paul to mind. In spite of the fact that he used to grab me at every opportunity, Paul never tried to get me to go to bed with him." She shook her head in mystification. "It doesn't add up, somehow. Especially since he professed to love me and want me so desperately. He even said he felt like shooting himself because he could never have me."
"Didn't you tell me that Paul was drunk when he said those things?"
"Yes, he was," she nodded. "And now that I think about it, I'm more puzzled than ever. The sober Paul was always a pain in the neck ... crude and obnoxious. But the drunken Paul wasn't like that. He was very nice, actually. And he made no attempt whatsoever to manhandle me. To tell the truth, I felt sorry for him."
"And you haven't seen him since?"
"No."
"That does seem strange him giving up so easily, after the things he said. But I still can't picture him as your anonymous caller. After all, he could force you to go to bed with him now. And if he feels as strongly about you as he claimed, I don't think being married to your best friend would stop him. So, why would he be afraid to reveal his identity?"
"I don't know."
"Your friend Daffy found him to be a terrific lover, so it's a cinch he isn't sexually inadequate, especially since he was the first guy who was able to awaken her." Buck shook his head. "It doesn't add up."
"I suppose not," Gwen sighed. "Still ... I can't seem to shake off a strange feeling about Paul. I can't figure it out, but-"
"To hell with the lot of them," Buck murmured, as he leaned forward and began nuzzling her breasts.
Within a very short time, Gwen forgot all about
Arnold Willoughby, Neal Quinlan, Otto Von Eycker, Jay Tignor, and Paul Carmichael. Nothing mattered but Buck's thrilling lips and maddening caresses.
"Oh-h, Big Daddy," she moaned ecstatically. "Don't ever stop loving and wanting me."
"If I live to be a hundred," he murmured jerkily, "I'll never get enough of you, Big Mama."
Sighing blissfully, Gwen gazed up at the pink-tinted mirror overhead. It reflected the most beautiful and exciting sight in all the world ... Buck's magnificent physique in the act of making passionate love to her.
2
Approximately four weeks later....
On a particular Tuesday afternoon in mid-August, Gwen was washing her hair when the telephone rang. Probably her anonymous lover calling, she reflected wearily. Of late, the bastard had been phoning her twice a day. Wrapping a towel around her hair, the big redhead hurried into the bedroom and picked up the receiver.
"Hello," she murmured.
"What were you doing, babe?" The hungry voice belonged to her telephone lover. "I was washing my hair," she replied. "Are you nude?"
"Yes." She sat down on the edge of the huge bed. "I'm nude, too," he said huskily. "And I'm stretched out on my bed, looking at the pictures I took of you.
Oh, such glorious nakedness, honey. Just looking at you makes me drool like crazy." Gwen made no response.
"Stretch out on the bed, darling," he ordered. Then, a second later, he asked, "Are you stretched out now?"
"Yes," she lied. She remained seated on the side of the bed.
"Imagine me there beside you," he commanded breathily. "I'm running my hands all over your big, firm breasts. Oh, but they're magnificent. I love stroking them ... kissing them. I like teasing those delicious nipples ... making them get hard!"
Gwen heard kissing noises at die other end of the line.
"It feels good, doesn't it?" the deep, throbbing voice went on hoarsely. "Now, I'm stroking your hips, darling. How luscious. ... You were made for loving, sweetheart. Every superb inch of you." His breathing grew loud. "Now, I'm caressing your wonderful thighs. How smooth and silken they are. And so inviting..."
The excited voice rambled on and on, for more than an hour. Graphically, he described his manliness, his actions, and his feelings. Luridly, he described her appreciation of his manliness, her reactions to his masterful love-making, and the incomparable thrills he gave her.
"Oh, honey," he moaned ecstatically, "I can't stop now!" Then a rapturous cry echoed along the wire. Gwen remained silent.
"Oh-h-h, Gwen," he panted blissfully. "You're the best there is,, darling. I'll never let you go."
Her wide, green eyes contracted with worry. Did he mean it about never letting her go?
"I've been thinking," he went on in breathless tones, "-in two more weeks Buck will be free to marry you, and then those pictures won't make any difference.
What's more, you can refuse to answer my calls from then on." He paused, then added, "The minute you and Buck get married, I'd have to give you up altogether and that thought doesn't appeal to me at all."
The busty redhead stiffened with fear.
"Tes," the anonymous caller said thoughtfully, "-it would be to my advantage to keep you and Buck from marrying right away. If I released those pictures now, Buck's wife would drop the divorce and seek a bigger settlement, no doubt. And that would give me a few more months with you, at least."
"If you release those pictures," Gwen pointed out, "then you won't have a hold over me any longer. The damage will have been done, and I'll have nothing more to fear from you."
A long silence followed. "That's true. But if I'm going to lose you anyway, then I might as well have the satisfaction of making you regret it by destroying Buck's career. And making him pay dearly for taking you away from me. If I can't have you-"
"Please listen to me," Gwen cut in urgently. "I'll do anything to keep you from making trouble for Buck. If you really want to make love to me, I'll give myself to you willingly. I'll do anything you want me to do. Anything!"
He made no reply, but his breathing quickened.
"I'm sure you must have a good reason for not wanting me to know who you are," she went on desperately, "but you don't have to worry about me causing you any trouble. I'll make a bargain with you. I'll go away with you for a week, and you can do anything you want to me even torture me, if you happen to like that sort of thing. I'll cooperate one hundred per cent, I promise. And no matter who you are, I'll never tell anyone. Not even Buck. I swear it! I'll do anything, if you'll promise not to cause Buck and me any trouble."
"How could I be sure you wouldn't double-cross me and raise a ruckus as soon as you and Buck got married?" he asked warily.
"I give you my word," she vowed fervently.
"That's no security. You could change your mind."
"I wouldn't I swear it!"
"I couldn't be certain of that, Gwen." But he was greatly tempted, she could tell. His breathing was growing heavier by the second.
"Please believe me!" she begged. "If there is any way I can reassure you, just tell me what to do. Anything!"
T can't think of any foolproof way."
"Will you try?" Gwen pleaded. "Maybe."
"I'll do anything you want me to," she repeated fervently.
"You keep saying that, but I wonder if you really mean it? Suppose, at the very last minute, you decided that you couldn't go through with it?" His voice quavered with anxiety. "I'm not at all sure you would. And then I'd be in a helluva fix."
"I wouldn't back out. No matter what. You must believe me."
"Suppose I did agree to your bargain?" he conceded. "How could you get away for a week without telling Buck where you were going, and why? It would have to be a damned good excuse, you know. You're too crazy about his loving to give it up for some trivial reason."
"I don't think I'd tell him anything," Gwen replied. "I'd just leave next Monday morning, and I'd leave a note behind saying that my mother was very ill. He wouldn't question that. And I'd ask him not to phone my mother's place because hearing his voice would drive me crazy. Or maybe I'd say that she was in
Arizona, had been in an auto wreck, and I was going there to be with her for a week. That way, he wouldn't know where to reach me by phone." She bit her lower hp thoughtfully. "At any rate, one of us can figure out something to keep him from checking. I'll say whatever you think best. Word for word, if you'd like to dictate the letter."
Once again, his breathing grew heavy with excitement.
"You will consider the bargain, won't you?" Gwen implored.
"I shouldn't," he said huskily, "but I'll think it over and let you know by next Sunday."
"You won't be sorry, I promise you," Gwen vowed, tingling with new hope. "I'll give you a week to remember for the rest of your life. And I'll never tell anyone about it."
"Well-I," he said hesitantly, "well see."
* * *
That evening, when Buck arrived, Gwen wasted little time in getting the big man into bed. She might have to forego his loving all of next week, she reasoned, so she'd better make the most of the next few days.
"Oh, Big Mama," Buck panted, collapsing beside her after their second session, "you're really wild tonight."
"You make it better every time, Big Daddy." Her gaze sought his in the pink-tinted mirror overhead. "Then, too, I love pleasing you."
"I've never been more pleased," he said, grinning. Then: "Two weeks from today if nothing happens to prevent it we can fly to Yuma and tie the knot." His grin widened. "I'm going to charter a plane, throw a couple of blankets on the floor, and make love to you all the way to Arizona and back. That should be interesting making love up in the clouds."
"Sounds heavenly," she laughed.
Suddenly, Buck's eyes grew serious. "If only your telephone friend will keep still for a couple more weeks
"Let's not even think about it," she urged, frowning.
Buck needed no further urging.
But Gwen couldn't help thinking about their precarious situation ... couldn't help wondering what the next two weeks held in store for them. Would the anonymous caller ruin Buck out of spite, despite her offer to give him a week to remember? Or would he agree to her bargain, make no trouble?
It would be five days before she'd know for certain.
3
The following Sunday morning....
Gwen's phone rang at seven o'clock. She came wide awake instantly, grabbed up the receiver. Yesterday afternoon her telephone lover had promised to call at this time and give his final decision.
"Hello," she said breathlessly.
"Good morning, Gwen." The voice was the one she expected to hear.
She held her breath fearfully. "What have you decided?"
"My, but you're impatient," he laughed. "Please!"
He hesitated a moment. Then: "I shouldn't risk it-but I just can't resist. I'll take you up on that bargain."
"Oh, thank you ... thank you," Gwen said happily, letting out a deep sigh of relief. "You won't regret it, I promise you. I'll give you the time of your life, and I'll never tell a soul. I swear it."
"After the week is over," he said, "it will be best if we never saw each other again."
Gwen let out another sigh of relief. "Where do you want me to meet you, and when?"
"I'll call you tomorrow and tell you what to do," he replied breathily. Then: "What time are you expecting Buck to come over this morning?"
"About ten."
"I'll let you spend the entire day with him, uninterrupted," the deep voice went on, growing husky with excitement. "But until he arrives, darling, I want you to tell me in detail what you intend doing to give me the time of my life. And I want you to call a spade a spade."
Throughout the next three hours, Gwen painted a graphic word picture of the thrills she planned to give the guy when they got together. Finally, she heard Buck's car pull up in front of the house. Her telephone lover let her go at once "Until tomorrow," he panted, his voice throbbing with anticipation.
"Until tomorrow," she repeated, then hung up.
During the remainder of the day, and far into the night, Gwen savored every moment of Buck's frequent sessions of love-making. They did everything they could think of, in bed and out. Finally, at three o'clock in the morning, Buck could postpone his departure no longer. With great reluctance, Gwen watched him stagger away.
Despite her own exhaustion, the flame-haired
Amazon slept very little that night. She arose and dressed at eight that morning, began pacing restlessly about the house. One hour stretched into two hours, and then two stretched into four. The phone remained silent.
At last, shortly after noon, the telephone rang. But Buck always called her during his lunch hour; consequently, she doubted that this call was the one she'd been waiting for all morning. In a turmoil of anxiety, she snatched up the receiver.
"Hello," she murmured expectantly.
"Hi, Big Mama," came Buck's resonant voice. "How are you feeling today?"
"A little tired."
"Me, too." He chuckled softly. "I wonder why?"
For once in her life, Gwen wished that he'd make the call short and go eat his lunch.
"But if you were here with me," Buck continued, in amused tones, "I'd be ready and raring to spend the next hour with you. And longer, if possible."
"I don't doubt it, honey."
"I'll finish up by five today," he informed her, "so I should be seeing you about six this evening. Then we can pick up where we left off last night. Okay?"
"Of course, dear."
"Hey!" Buck exclaimed. "You don't sound very enthusiastic. Are you annoyed with me about something?"
"No, darling," she assured him in adoring tones, "I guess I was daydreaming about the future ... when
I could visit you during your lunch hour."
"In one more week," Buck enthused, "we can make that flight to Yuma. It won't be long now!"
"I'll be counting the seconds, honey." And she'd be keeping her fingers crossed, too.
"I'd better go now," Buck said. "See ya about six."
After Buck hung up, Gwen began pacing about the house once more. Finally, at one o'clock, the telephone rang again. This had to be the call she was waiting for, she told herself anxiously. Trembling, she picked up the receiver and answered.
"Have you changed your mind about our bargain?" her telephone lover asked breathlessly.
"No, but I was beginning to wonder if you'd changed your mind. You haven't, have you?"
"No."
"Thank goodness," she sighed.
"I've been watching your place all morning," he informed her, "to see if any unusual activity was going on around there."
"You needn't worry about me double-crossing you. Under the circumstances, I wouldn't dare."
"Nevertheless, it pays to be cautious and I'm going to be doubly certain before showing my face." His voice shook with excitement. "Now, shall we get down to business?"
"By all means."
"First," he said, "I want you to write that note to Buck. I'll tell you what to say, word for word."
During the next few minutes, Gwen wrote the letter as he dictated it. Then, at his request, she read it back to him. Afterward, he grunted with satisfaction.
"Now," he directed, "I want you to get into your car and drive out to Tujunga. On the edge of town, at Foothill and Aspen, you'll find a public telephone booth on the northeast corner. Wait there for me to call you."
"Is that all?" Gwen asked.
"You'll receive further instructions in Tujunga. It's a long drive, so you'd better get started right away."
After Ranging up, Gwen threw a few clothes into a small suitcase and hurried out to her car. Then she headed north toward Tujunga. Shortly before three o'clock that afternoon, she parked near the intersection of Foothill and Aspen, which turned out to be a small-townish business district. As she had been informed, a public telephone booth stood on the northeast corner.
Gwen stepped down to the sidewalk, strolled over to the telephone booth. Then she began waiting. Fifteen minutes passed, then half an hour. She began pacing back and forth with increasing agitation. Finally the telephone inside the booth began ringing. Anxiously, she stepped inside and lifted the receiver to her ear.
"Hello," she answered.
"You were getting very impatient, weren't you?" Her telephone lover chuckled softly. "I've been watching you ever since you arrived. And I can see you right now."
"Then why keep me waiting?" she said peevishly, as she glanced at the buildings across the street. The jerk probably was in one of the cafes across the way, she decided.
"I told you I was going to be doubly certain before showing my face," he said. "And that still goes."
"What do you want me to do now?" Gwen asked.
"In due time, I'm going to give you further instructions," he replied, "but first I want to warn you that I'll be keeping an eye on you every inch of the way. And when you reach your destination, I won't come rushing forward to join you. As a matter-of-fact, I may not show up until tomorrow. I'm going to check and double-check the entire area to make certain no one is within miles and if anything arouses my suspicion, then I won't show up at all. And in that case" he paused significantly "those pictures of you and Buck will be mailed all over the country before tomorrow night. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes," Gwen sighed. "But you've no cause to worry. Believe me."
"I'm not taking any chances. At least, no more than absolutely necessary."
Again, Gwen asked, "What do you want me to do now?"
"Listen carefully," he replied. "When I hang up, you're to reach under the phone box. You'll find a piece of paper taped there. Remove it gently. It contains the directions to your destination."
"All right."
"Then you're to go straight to your car and you mustn't speak to anyone. I'll be watching you, remember."
"You needn't worry," she assured him again.
A few seconds later, after hanging up, Gwen retrieved the piece of paper and stepped out of the telephone booth. The note contained a roughly-drawn map, accompanied by a few lines of additional instructions. The latter had been printed in block letters.
Inhaling deeply, Gwen hastened back to her car. Sliding behind the steering wheel, she studied the map and noted the first lap of her journey to she-knew-not-where. Then she set the car in motion and headed north again.
Frequently consulting the map and the printed instructions, Gwen soon entered the Angeles National Forest and then turned into a sideroad which seemed to wind endlessly among tree-covered hills and mountains. On and on and on she drove, deeper and deeper into the wild back-country. Finally, at ten minutes past five, she reached her destination a large, one-room cabin in the wilderness.
Parking her car on the far side of the small clearing, Gwen stepped down to the ground and looked at her surroundings. Tall trees and dense underbrush enclosed the grassy clearing, and wooded hills rose skyward in the near-distance. She felt as if she were a million miles from civilization.
Gwen pulled her suitcase from the car, approached the cabin nervously. The door was unlocked. She pushed it open and peered inside the rustic building. The single room contained a small breakfast table and two chairs, a leather-covered divan and easy chair, an ice box, an iron cook stove, a stone fireplace, a bearskin rug, and a double bed.
The big redhead entered the large cabin, made herself at home. She found food in the icebox, staples in a wall cabinet, and several bottles of distilled water sat in one corner. She made a pot of coffee, then sipped the strong brew as she wandered about the room, glancing out each of its six windows.
Then, as an afterthought, Gwen began searching for some clue to the owner's identity. But she could find nothing with a name on it. Night was falling when she gave up the search. She lit several candles, made herself a ham sandwich, and warmed up the coffee. Finally, she settled down to wait. Perhaps her telephone lover would show up tonight and perhaps he wouldn't. At any rate, he was nearby; of that she felt certain. Somewhere in the surrounding forest, her soon-to-be lover was checking her route, or watching....
The evening passed slowly. Gwen entertained herself with thoughts of Buck and their future together. Then, too, she occasionally wondered what he might be doing at that moment. Did he miss her as much as she missed him? Would he seek out another woman to keep him happy while she was away? Was he in bed with another girl right this minute? Or was he pacing about his hotel suite, dreading the week ahead?
At eleven o'clock, Gwen decided to retire for the night. She didn't bother to pull down the shades when she began undressing. She snipped to the skin, then blew out all of the candles except one. Stretching out on the double bed she tried to go to sleep. But she couldn't. She was too jittery. With shaking hands, she reached for a cigarette. Waiting in itself was nerve-wracking but waiting for she-knew-not-who was even worse.
Shortly after midnight, Gwen thought she heard a noise outside the cabin. Tensing, she strained her ears. Then, glancing toward one of the front windows, she saw a man's figure outside, silhouetted against the moonlight beyond. But she couldn't tell who he was. Her heart began hammering loudly against her ribs. Soon, now, she would know....
Seconds later, the figure moved away from the window. Gwen held her breath. She heard a key slide into the door lock, followed by a click! Then, slowly, the door swung inward.
Breathlessly, Gwen watched the door swing open. A man stepped inside the dimly lit cabin, and she recognized him at once. She sat up abruptly, her eyes wide with surprise.
"You!" she exclaimed in an incredulous whisper.
4
Several hours earlier at precisely five o'clock that afternoon big Buck Dixon finished work for the day. After leaving the studio, he hurried to a nearby restaurant and wolfed down a huge steak. Then he headed for his and Gwen's love nest in Coldwater Canyon. It was a few minutes past six o'clock when he braked his Cad in front of the secluded redwood house.
Whistling happily, he rushed inside and mounted the stairs the usual two steps at a time. Tonight, Gwen did not meet him at the bedroom door. Perhaps she was busy on the telephone, he reflected, hurrying forward. But he found the bedroom empty.
Buck was about to call out, to locate her, when he spied a note propped against his pillow. Frowning, he picked up the single sheet of paper. In Gwen's flowing handwriting, the note stated that she would be away for several days. Her step-father, Neal Quinlan, had telephoned her from Arizona that afternoon, informing her that her mother had been seriously injured in an auto accident. She was flying to Arizona at once but would be back next Sunday evening or Monday morning, without fail.
"Damn!" Buck swore to himself, dreading the week ahead. By the time Gwen got back, he despaired, he'd probably be a raving maniac. The magnificent redhead affected him like a powerful narcotic. The more he took her, the more he needed her. She had him hooked, but good. And losing her for a whole week was comparable to sudden withdrawal by a confirmed drug addict. "Damn, damn, damn!"
Then, suddenly, an alarming thought struck the big man. What would Gwen's telephone lover do when she didn't answer his calls any more!
Large beads of perspiration broke out on Buck's broad forehead. Surely Gwen hadn't forgotten about the anonymous caller's threat to release those pictures if for any reason she failed to answer the telephone. Or had news of her mother's accident rattled Gwen so much that she was incapable of thinking clearly? It was possible. She might have gone into shock, rushed away without a moment's thought of the consequences.
Somehow, Buck decided, he had to get in touch with Gwen right away. But how? In her note, she'd neglected to give the name of the city in which her mother was hospitalized. He let out a despairing groan. Talk about searching for a needle in a haystack....
Then, a possible answer drifted into Buck's mind.
He recalled that Gwen's father had been a big shot realtor in San Bernardino, and her mother's new husband had taken over the business a couple of years ago. The Gordon Realty Company; that was the name of the firm. And if the business was still in existence, the office manager would surely know where to locate Neal Quinlan.
Buck sat down on the edge of the king-size bed, reached for the telephone on the bedside table. When the operator answered, he told her that he wanted to place a call to the Gordon Realty Company in San Bernardino, and he didn't know the number. Two minutes later he was given the area code and the telephone number. Anxiously, he began dialing.
"Gordon Realty Company," a male voice answered, after the second ring.
"Is Neal Quinlan still connected with your firm?" Buck inquired hopefully.
"Yes, sir. But he went home about five minutes ago. May I be of some help to you?"
Buck's jaw sagged. "B-but," he stammered, "I was told that he was in Arizona and that his wife had been seriously injured in an automobile accident."
"Oh? Well, I'm afraid you were misinformed, sir. Mrs. Quinlan was here only a few minutes ago, so I can assure you that she's-"
Buck didn't hear the rest of it. He was stunned. Slowly, dazedly, he placed the receiver back in its cradle. Gwen had lied. ... But why?
Almost instantly, the truth hit him like a blow on the head. Gwen must have agreed to spend a week with her telephone lover to prevent the bastard from ruining him. He was positive of it. Nothing else
Then, an even more alarming thought struck the big man. Whoever the anonymous caller was, he'd been downright fanatic about not revealing his identity. But, now, he'd changed his mind. It didn't make sense unless the man intended killing Gwen when he finished with her!
Frantic with worry, Buck began pacing about the bedroom. What should he do? What could he do? Somehow, some way, he had to locate Gwen and rescue her.
After a few minutes an idea occurred to him. He could telephone each of the men Gwen had suspected
and if one of them had left town for a week. ... But, even if one of the suspects couldn't be accounted for, that still didn't prove that the guy was Gwen's could have enticed her away at this time.
Now that he stopped to think about it, Gwen had been particularly loving and passionate during the past several days. She'd clung to him tighter than usual ... kissed him more fervently ... and wanted him even more frequently. Then, too, he recalled their telephone conversation at noon today. When he'd spoken of joining her at six this evening and picking up where they'd left off last night she hadn't responded with her usual enthusiasm. Now he understood why she'd been especially loving of late, and why she'd been distracted today. She knew she had to go away for a week, wouldn't be at the hideaway when he arrived this evening.
Suddenly, Buck's scalp began prickling with alarm. Suppose the anonymous caller was Otto Von Eycker! Suppose she was being chewed to pieces right this minute! Or burned ... or-I A violent shudder shook him. telephone lover. And even if he was the culprit, what then? It wasn't at all likely that the fellow had let anyone know where he was going.
Scowling darkly, Buck sat down on the edge of the bed again. He had nothing to lose by calling each of the men in question, and maybe he could pick up a lead. He'd try anything and everything.
Buck pulled out the drawer in the bedside table, reached for Gwen's address book. With shaking hands, he found Arnold Willoughby's name. Beneath, two telephone numbers were listed. One was his office, the other his home. Sucking in a lungful of air, Buck dialed Willoughby's home.
"Hello," a feminine voice answered.
"Is Mr. Willoughby at home?" Buck asked, frowning.
"No, but I'm expecting him any minute," the woman responded cheerily. "May I take a message?"
"Are you the housekeeper?" Buck inquired.
She laughed softly. "In a manner of speaking. I'm Mr. Willoughby's wife."
"Oh. I didn't know that he'd married again."
"We were married two months ago," she said. "May I ask who is calling, please?"
"It doesn't matter," Buck mumbled absently, hanging up the receiver.
Next, just to double check, Buck phoned Neal Quinlan at home. As soon as Quinlan identified himself, Buck hung up. Then he phoned Otto Von Eycker's home with similar results. And the same thing happened when he phoned Jay Tignor.
Panic clutched at the big man. He knew of only one more possible suspect Paul Carmichael. And if Paul was at home, too ... Buck groaned despairingly. The anonymous caller might be a complete stranger to Gwen. And if so, all was lost.
Mopping his sweat-drenched forehead, Buck dialed Daffy Lee Carmichael's number. Seconds later a soft, feminine voice drawled, "Hello?"
"May I speak to Paul?" Buck asked, literally holding his breath.
"Paul doesn't live here any more," came the petulant reply. "He left me."
An electric shock ripped up Buck's spine. "When did he leave?"
"Early this morning."
Buck caught his breath. "Do you know where he was heading?"
"He said he was leaving the state for good," she answered, in a choked voice. "But he didn't tell me where he was going to."
"Damn!" the big man cursed, his stomach knotting with anguish.
"But, you know, I kind of think Paul was lying to me about leaving the state," Daffy went on fretfully.
New hope swept through Buck. "What makes you think so?"
"I'm pretty sure that he has another girl friend around here someplace," she pouted. "During the past several weeks he locked himself in the bedroom once or twice a day and talked to somebody on the phone for hours. And this past weekend he bought a carload of groceries and took them someplace, too."
The heavy southern drawl took on a plaintive quality. "I can't understand why he'd leave me for another girl, though. I did everything he wanted me to ... gave him all the spending money he wanted ... and I even signed over my car to him."
Buck's heart was pounding so hard that he could hardly catch his breath. Paul Carmichael was Gwen's telephone lover of that he was almost positive.
"What kind of work did Paul do?" he questioned.
"He didn't work while he was living with me," Daffy replied. "But he used to work for a commercial photographer ... developing film, I think."
All the pieces of the puzzle fitted together perfectly, Buck decided. With one exception. Why had Paul been so reluctant about revealing his identity to Gwen? That still didn't make sense.
"If Paul did lie to you about leaving the state," Buck said urgently, "do you have any idea where he might hide out for a while? That is, if he was afraid of some kind of trouble?"
A long silence hummed along the wire. Then, in frightened tones, Daffy asked, "Are you a policeman?"
"No, I'm not."
"Then why are you asking so many questions about Paul? Who are you?"
"Just a friend."
"What's your name?" Daffy inquired suspiciously. "Bill Johnston," he lied.
"I never heard Paul speak of you." She hesitated briefly. "Is Paul in some kind of trouble?"
"Not if I can locate him right away," Buck said impatiently. "But, if I can't contact him pronto . .
"No matter what Paul has done, I wouldn't like to see him get into trouble," Daffy sighed. "But if he had to go away and hide out for a while, why didn't he explain the real reason he was leaving me?"
"Perhaps because he was afraid you might tell-" Buck stopped short, wanted to bite off his tongue.
"Then I'd better not tell you where I think he'd go," she said thoughtfully. "He might not want you to know."
"Please, Daffy," he begged. "I've got to know. It may be a matter of life or death!"
"Oh?" Another brief silence. Then: "Well, if you came out to my place, so I could see you, maybe I'd change my mind. But you'd have to tell me what this is all about and-"
"There isn't time for all that," he cut in, his voice ringing with desperation. "Every second may count. I told you this was a matter of life or death!"
"I'm real sorry, honey, but I don't think I should-"
Frantic with worry, Buck lost his temper. "Listen to me, you bird-brained idiot!" he shouted angrily. "If you don't tell me where Paul might be, then Gwen might get lolled!"
"Gwen?" she repeated, in surprised tones. "What has Gwen got to do with all this?"
"She's the girl that Paul has been phoning lately," Buck said. "What's more, Paul has forced Gwen to go away with him for a week."
"Ton must be crazy, or drunk," Daffy exclaimed.
"Paul would never do such a thing, I can assure you. He knows that Gwen would have a conniption if he tried to get her into bed. I told him, weeks ago, that Gwen would die fighting before she'd give in."
Buck frowned. "Why should she care that much?"
"Well er ah," Daffy fumbled for words. "Gwen once told me that she despised Paul ... and she'd cut her throat before she'd give herself to a creep like him."
Not for one second did Buck believe that Gwen had ever said such a thing to Daffy. On the contrary he happened to know that Gwen had gone out of her way to spare Daffy's feelings. So, why was Daffy lying? Perhaps she didn't want to believe that Paul had gone away with Gwen. Or perhaps she was trying to protect Paul.
"Listen to me," Buck pleaded, his desperation mounting. "This business is more serious than you realize, Daffy. I have good reason to fear that Paul may kdl Gwen when he finishes with her. You've got to tell me where Paul may be hiding out-now!"
"My goodness, I don't see what you're getting so excited about. Paul wouldn't bother Gwen. I just know it."
Buck quickly decided that nothing short of the truth would convince Daffy that Paul had gone away with Gwen, was probably bedding her this very minute. He lost five precious minutes telling the whole story, from start to finish, leaving out nothing except his true identity. And he stressed the fact that Gwen's telephone lover had been fanatical about not revealing his identity, at first, even when Gwen had offered to sleep with him in exchange for the pictures.
"Of all the possible suspects," he pointed out, after telling her about his phone calls to Arnold Willoughby, Neal Quinlan, Otto Von Eycker, and Jay Tignor, "that leaves only Paul unaccounted for. And you admit that he's been phoning somebody, once or twice a day, throughout the past-"
Daffy began sobbing quietly, and Buck knew he didn't have to continue trying to convince her of Paul's guilt. "I'm sorry," he said in his most soothing tones. "Now, will you tell me where you think Paul may have taken Gwen?"
"Yes," she wailed. "Paul owns a cabin up in the Angeles National Forest. Maybe that's where he was taking those groceries."
"Do you know where the cabin is?" he asked, again holding his breath.
"Yes. I've been out there several times."
"Will you come with me and show me where it is?"
"Oh, no!" she cried out wretchedly. "I just couldn't!"
"You've got to!" he insisted.
"I can't, I can't, I can't," she sobbed. "I can never face Gwen again."
"Don't be silly," Buck snapped.
"I can tell you how to get there," she whimpered, "-but I just can't go with you."
"All right, then, tell me how to get there."
Daffy gave him the directions.
"Are you sure you haven't forgotten anything?" he asked.
"I don't think so."
"I've got to be positive," Buck said, exasperated.
"I've told you everything I can think of," she blubbered miserably.
"How long will it take me to drive out to the cabin?" he inquired anxiously.
"Four or five hours. I'm not sure exactly."
Buck glanced at his wristwatch. The time was seven-fifteen. It might be midnight before he arrived at the cabin ... if Daffy's directions led him to the remote spot in the forest.
"I can't take any chances," he said decisively. "You've got to come with me, Daffy."
"No!" She sounded terrified. "If you come over for me, you won't find me here. I'm leaving right away-and I don't know when I'll be back. Maybe never."
Buck cursed her under his breath. "Then I'd better get started pronto," he said, anxious to be on his way.
"I I think maybe I'd better tell you something before you hang up," Daffy stammered, "-so you'll be prepared for what to expect."
"What do you mean?"
Daffy gulped loudly. Then she blurted out: "Paul isn't really a man. His real name's Paula."
Buck almost dropped the telephone receiver. The stunning revelation left him frozen with shock.
"He looks like a man ... feels that he's a man ... and thinks like a man," Daffy went on lamely. "But he he has female sex organs. His breasts don't amount to much, though. When they're bandaged down tightly, his chest looks very manly. And when he-"
Buck didn't listen to the rest of Daffy's astounding discourse. His thoughts darted to Gwen ... to the time when she discovered why her anonymous caller had been so reluctant to claim her body. He knew how greatly she was repulsed by the mere idea of one woman making love to another. Perhaps the shock might be too much for her mind to endure without snapping!
Then, another thought caused the big man to stiffen fearfully. By now, Paul or, rather, Paula might be attempting to make love to Gwen!
Buck leaped to his feet, dropping the telephone receiver on the bed. Again reaching into the drawer of the bedside table, he pulled out the pistol which he had given Gwen when she first moved into this remote house.
The big man checked the pistol and shoved it into a coat pocket. Then, white-faced, he hung up the telephone and raced out of the room. Seconds later, he ran out of the house and hopped into his Cad. And then he sped away into the gathering night.
Throughout the following hours, as he speeded northward, Buck's fears multiplied by leaps and bound. What would he find when he reached the cabin deep in the forest?
5
The same evening, shortly after midnight...
When Paul Carmichael's tall, athletic frame stepped inside the dimly lit cabin, Gwen could hardly believe her eyes. Of all the men she suspected of making the lewd telephone calls, Paul's name had been at the bottom of the list-and she hadn't felt certain that his name really belonged there at all, because there was no good reason for him to be fanatical about not revealing his identity.
Hence her shocked whisper-"You!"
"Yes," he said huskily, locking the door behind him. His coarse features were flushed with excitement, and his piercing gaze swept up and down her nude body. "I guess you didn't believe me when I told you, months ago, that I wanted you so much that I felt like killing myself because I couldn't have you."
"But-when you told me about the pictures you'd taken of Buck and me I offered to sleep with you then," she reminded him. "I don't understand-"
"You will," he cut in, his deep voice cracking with nervousness. "In due time."
"Another thing," Gwen frowned. "How did you find out about Buck's hideaway in Coldwater Canyon? And how did you get that unlisted telephone number?"
"The last time I visited you at your apartment on the Strip," Paul said, "it was all I could do to keep from taking you by force. Right then, I knew I had to stay away from you. But I watched you from a distance, followed you about the city on several occasions. And one of your trips led me to the redwood house in Coldwater Canyon." His breathing was growing heavier by the second. "As for getting that telephone number, it wasn't at all difficult. I climbed up to your balcony one evening, and while you were taking a bath I slipped into the bedroom and jotted down the telephone number."
"Poor Daffy," Gwen said sadly. "Right from the start, I knew that you didn't really love her. But I didn't say anything because I didn't want to hurt her, and I figured she was getting her money's worth." She inhaled deeply. "Where did you tell her you were going to be this week?"
"I told her I was leaving the state for good."
"W-what do you mean?" Gwen stammered.
"Just what I said," Paul replied, staring at her breasts and licking his thin lips hungrily. "No matter what happens this week, I plan to leave the state for a while. Better safe than sorry."
"I intend keeping my word," Gwen assured him. "I won't cause you any trouble. So there's no need of breaking up your marriage and-"
"Daffy and I were never married," Paul cut in. "I couldn't marry her or any other woman."
"I-I don't understand," Gwen stammered in bewilderment and confusion.
"You swore that you'd do anything to save Buck, didn't you?" Paul asked, his dark eyes studying her face intently.
"Yes, of course," she replied, her confusion mounting. Why had he changed the subject so abruptly?
"Absolutely anything?"
Gwen stared at him in puzzlement. "I gave you my word, and I won't go back on it."
"We'll see, honey," he muttered hoarsely, smoothing down his short-cropped black hair. "We'll see."
Paul moved away from the door, pulled down the window shades and started lighting more candles. When he finished, the large room was brightly illuminated. "I like to see everything clearly," he explained, turning to face her again. "From start to finish."
"So do I," she murmured, eyeing Paul's broad shoulders and slim hips.
Without another word, Paul began undressing. As he pulled off his coat and tossed it aside, Gwen noticed that his hands were shaking violently. And they grew even more palsied when he started unbuttoning his shirt. In all her fife, she'd never seen anyone so nervous.
Then, when Paul shrugged out of his shirt, Gwen saw that his chest was taped heavily. "What happened to you?" she inquired, assuming that he'd suffered a rib fracture.
"Nothing of importance," he mumbled, flexing his hairy arms as if to indicate that the injury wouldn't hamper him when he started making love to her.
Breathlessly, Gwen waited for him to finish stripping. But he didn't continue. For a long moment, he stood there in the center of the room, gazing at her steadily. His dark eyes glinted with feverish desire, and his breath poured forth in jerky gasps.
"Remember," he wheezed loudly, "you said you'd do anything to save Buck . .
"I won't break my promise," she assured him again.
Slowly, Paul began moving toward her.
* * *
Two hours earlier, Big Buck Dixon had finally located the back-country road which according to Daffy would eventually lead him to Paula Carmichael's remote cabin. The narrow side road seemed to wind endlessly among the wooded hills and mountains. On and on and on he drove, deeper and deeper into the moonlit forest.
Midnight came and passed, and still the road snaked forward. Panic gripped the big man. By now, he knew, he should have reached the cabin. Had he made a mistake in following Daffy's instructions? Or had she deliberately given him the wrong directions!
A moment later, Buck spotted a car parked in the bushes beside the road. A red convertible. Instantly, his heart started pounding against his ribs. He pulled off the road, cut his engine, and then hopped out of the Cad. Striding over to the red convertible, he opened the driver's door and leaned inside. As he'd anticipated, the registration certificate listed Paul Carmichael as the owner. The cabin must be nearby!
Breathless with apprehension, die big man hurried back toward his car. He opened the door to enter, then changed his mind. If Paula heard him driving up to the cabin, she might panic and do something foolish like killing Gwen! It would be wiser to approach the cabin silently, burst inside before Paula realized what was happening.
Sucking in a chestful of air, Buck started running down the backwoods road. Soon, upon rounding a bend, he spied a moonlit clearing perhaps a quarter of a mile ahead. That should be the spot where the cabin was located. With renewed hope, he raced forward.
As Buck neared the moonlit glade, he saw Gwen's car parked on the far side of the clearing ... and a large cabin stood in the center. This was the place! Stealthily, he crept toward the lighted building. As he neared the door, he heard voices inside. He strained his ears to pick up the conversation.
"What happened to you?" Gwen asked her companion. She didn't sound at all perturbed.
"Nothing of importance," came the reply in a deep, masculine voice. That would be Paula, of course.
For a long moment, all was quiet inside. Then, jerkily, Paula said, "Remember, you said you'd do anything to save Buck..."
A tidal wave of relief swept through Buck. Obviously, Gwen had not yet discovered the shocking truth about Paula Carmichael. He had arrived in time to save her from a shattering scene from which she might never recover.
Buck reached into his coat pocket, pulled out Gwen's pistol. Then he moved back a couple of steps, inhaled deeply, and lunged forward with all his might. The door gave way with an ear-splitting screech. His immense frame went hurtling inside the cabin, crashed to the floor.
As Buck fell, he caught a glimpse of Gwen and Paula. Gwen was sitting up on a double bed, completely nude. And Paula who had been approaching the bed whirled in alarm. The mannish woman's body tensed for battle, until she saw the gun in his hand. And then, as he scrambled to his feet, her masculine features twisted into a mask of unbridled fury.
"You tricked me!" Paula roared at Gwen.
"No, I didn't," the big redhead vowed, blinking in astonishment.
"You'll both be sorry," Paula sneered. "When I get through smearing you," she snarled at Buck, "you'll wish-"
"You're not going to smear anybody," he cut in, scowling thunderously. "You're going to give me those pictures and negatives, and then you're getting out of this state but fast."
"Like hell I am!" Paula growled defiantly.
Buck directed his attention to Gwen. "Put on your clothes and get out of here," he said grimly. "Your friend and I have some business to attend to."
"But how did you find out?" Gwen puzzled.
"Never mind, now," he replied. "I'll tell you later."
Buck kept an eye on Paula while Gwen scrambled out of the bed and gathered up her clothing.
"Paul promised me he wouldn't cause you any trouble if I spent this week with him," Gwen started to explain. "I-"
"You don't have to explain anything to me, honey," Buck said gently. Then, nodding significantly at Paula, he added, "I understand everything. Absolutely everything."
Paula stiffened, and her dark eyes filled with alarm.
"I want you to get into your car," Buck said to Gwen, "and I want you to drive it about half a mile down the road. You'll find my car parked there." He paused, took a deep breath. "Wait there for me. It may take a little while for me to convince this fellow to give me those pictures and negatives, and to forget that he never knew either of us."
"But, I don't understand-" Gwen began, as she pulled on her dress.
"Never mind," Buck cut her short. "Get going now. And wait down the road for me. I'll be along shortly."
He watched Gwen pick up a small suitcase and hurry out of the cabin. Seconds later, he heard her drive out of the clearing. Then, coldly, he returned his full attention to Paula.
"You dirty sonofabitch!" the big man swore at her. "You would have killed Gwen if she refused to cooperate, wouldn't you?"
Dark eyes glinting apprehensively, Paula made no reply.
"Where are die pictures and negatives?" Buck demanded.
"You'll never know," Paula sneered; but her rugged face was ashen with fear. "No matter what, I can still ruin you."
"You wouldn't dare," Buck said confidently. "You'd get the worst of it, Paula. Masquerading as a man, pretending to be Daffy's husband, making those lewd calls to Gwen and there's no telling what else the cops might turn up."
She wilted suddenly. "How did you find out?"
"Daffy told me everything." He frowned. "I'm not going to make any trouble for you if you'll give up the pictures and get out of the state pronto. It's up to you."
"All right, you win." Paula's broad shoulders slumped in resignation. "The pictures are here. I'll get them."
Buck watched her open a secret compartment at one end of the fireplace. As she reached inside, he prodded her with Gwen's pistol just in case she might have a gun stashed inside. But the compartment contained nothing but a small briefcase.
"The pictures are in here," Paula sighed, opening the briefcase and showing him the contents.
"Are these all of them?" Buck scowled.
"Yeah." .
Buck took the briefcase, tossed it out the door. "There's just one more thing..."
"What's that?" Paula frowned.
"Never in my life have I wanted to beat the living hell out of anyone until now," he replied angrily. "But, even though you look, think, and act like a man, I can't think of you as a man. And I don't go for beating up women. Not even lesbians." He glared at her ominously. "If anyone ever deserved to be taught a lesson, you do. And while I can't beat hell out of you, I think I can make you wish I had."
"W-what do you mean?" Paula stuttered fearfully.
Buck didn't answer. He tossed Gwen's gun outside, started toward Paula. Then he started grinning.
Eyes widening with horror, she backed away. "No!"
He grabbed Paula, threw her down on the floor. She struggled fiercely. But she was no match for the big man. Within seconds he stripped off the trousers she wore. And then, by brute strength, he forced himself between her knees.
Moments later Paula let out an agonized scream. But Buck didn't give a damn how much he hurt her. She deserved it. And he intended teaching her a lesson she'd never forget.
6
When Big Buck Dixon emerged from the cabin, he retrieved Gwen's pistol and the briefcase. Then he hurried toward the moonlit road nearby. A short time later, he neared the spot where he'd left his Cad. Gwen's car was parked in die middle of the road, and the big redhead was pacing up and down the roadside.
"What happened?" she asked anxiously, rushing forward to meet him.
"I got the pictures and the negatives." He held up the briefcase. "And we don't have to worry about Paul any more. He's promised to leave the state pronto and keep his mouth shut."
"You beat him up, didn't you? I heard him yelling and screaming as if you were breaking every bone in his body." She shuddered. "It sounded awful."
Buck smiled to himself. "Yeah, I roughed him up a little to teach him a lesson."
"But I still don't understand how you found out about Paul, and how you traced him here," Gwen frowned.
"I'll explain later," he said, leading the redhead toward her car. "Right now, we'd better get started for home. It'll be dawn by the time we get there."
"You'll have to go directly to work, won't you?"
"I should, but I'm not going to," he replied. "I'm going to take tomorrow off, come hell or high water."
"I'm glad. You need some rest."
"Rest, hell," he grinned. "A celebration is in order."
Buck helped Gwen into her car, then hastened to his Cad. They got underway at once, with Gwen in the lead. It was five-thirty in the morning when, finally, they pulled up in front of their hideaway in Coldwater Canyon.
"I've been thinking," Gwen said as they strolled into the house, arm in arm, "-I still can't understand why Paul was so reluctant to reveal his identity."
"What does it matter?" Buck shrugged. "That business is over and done with. Let's forget it." He felt it would be best if Gwen never learned the whole truth, and he knew that Daffy Lee would prefer it that way, too. "I can think of far more interesting things to talk about like our future, for instance."
"For a while," Gwen sighed, "I was afraid that we might not have any future together. At least, not soon. Paul was determined to cause trouble, until I talked him into-"
"You don't have to explain, honey," he said, as they entered the master bedroom. "I know you did it for me. And I love you more than ever."
She smiled up at him impishly. "Prove it."
"As soon as I take a shower," he laughed. At the moment, he felt too unclean to touch her.
"I could use a shower, too. Care for some company?" Td love it."
They stripped quickly, hurried into the bathroom. Buck turned on the shower and adjusted the water while Gwen tucked her fiery hair under a shower cap. Then, hand in hand, they stepped into the stall.
Seconds later, Buck reached for the soap and began lathering Gwen's magnificent body. He ran his hands all over her big, firm breasts ... over the gentle mound of her stomach ... over her hips and buttocks ... and over her long, shapely legs. Then he handed the bar of soap to her, thrilled to her touch as she lathered and caressed his body.
When they finished showering and emerged from the stall, they took turns drying each other. Almost immediately, wild excitement overcame Buck. He yanked off Gwen's shower cap and tossed it aside. Then he lifted the busty redhead into his arms, hurried into the bedroom and placed her in the center of the king-size bed.
"Oh, Big Mama," he murmured adoringly.
"Oh-h, Big Daddy," the passionate redhead moaned rapturously, "-make it last forever!"
