The man's swarthy skin glistened from his climbing effort, the droplets of perspiration standing out on his face and forming tiny rivulets that had begun to trickle annoyingly down his face and neck. As he gained the portico, stepping cautiously over the railing, he crouched low in order to take a quick look around, all his senses alert to possible discovery. His keen ears told him that his quarry was up and moving around the bedroom, whose double French doors opened out upon the porch where he stood. Good! He was in luck this morning. He would get to see her, again!
Three weeks ago, a few days after he had begun work as a gardener on the Marklin estate, he had climbed to this portico via a tall ladder to trim some overgrown vines. It was then he had seen her, accidentally, for the first time. The memory of what he had seen stirred in him, moving in his very being; the thrust of the pounding blood in his veins arrowed straight and true to the heavy protuberance of his loins, where he felt it working, sensually.
Still crouching low, he made his cautious, soundless way to the vantage point at the side of the many-paned door where there was a slight gap in the curtain. He knelt down and put his face close to the opening. Almost the entire room was visible to him, but he did not see her at first. He cursed under his breath. Maybe she was in the bathroom already. Patiently, he waited, telling himself that he was a fool to place himself in such a position ... here he was, Jack Chavez, kneeling in the warm sun on his employer's porch hoping to catch sight of her in the intimate details of her morning dressing ritual! It's crazy, man, Crazy!
Suddenly, she was there before him! The opened bathroom door revealed the pink-white and blonde loveliness of her. He cursed the bath towel draped carelessly at a diagonal across her body as she drifted across the room to stand for a moment beside the bed. The towel came off, sliding down and away and was flung languidly to the bed. His involuntary gasp sounded terribly loud to himself. Christ! He couldn't afford to be discovered there!
The vision before his eyes moved now to the full-length mirrors of the closet doors, the smooth, long-legged loveliness of her, topped with slightly damp golden-blonde hair reflected back to him clearly. The upthrust mounds of her breasts were alabaster-white, marbled with soft, blue veinings just below the surface of the skin... that unbelievably white skin. He watched, lust screaming through him, as her hands - tapered fingers curling caressingly - moved up and cupped those magnificent breasts. He tried to imagine his own hands caressing that same female flesh.
With a low, soft moan of hopelessness and desire he turned reluctantly away from the vision and cautiously retraced his steps. Why? Why ... he asked himself ... why hadn't he broken into her room and taken her ... did with her as he wanted ... raped her in one wild moment of sexual abandon ... Christ! He knew the answer ... he just didn't have the nerve! He was scared ... scared to death!
The cupped breasts in her hands were sore to her gentle touch, and Terri, unaware that she was being watched, catalogued the places where she hurt. George's tiny whips had left little or no marks on her body, but she was painfully aware of those spots where he had hit her. He was especially fond of beating her luscious breasts. Now, running her hands over the contours of her body she winced in pain as she discovered other tender areas on her curving thighs. She probed and explored the hurts caused by the leather thongs wielded by her husband.
"Damn!" she sighed. "Damn him!"
Her eyes wandered to the partly opened closet door. Rows of exquisite garments, hung carefully in protective plastic covers, awaited her selection. A small fortune, by some stands, was represented by the gorgeous array of dresses and suits. Each was an original... very fashionable, very chic ... and very expensive. Her husband, George Marklin, had supplied the money for their purchase, as he had for the luxurious appointments of the bedroom, the rest of the house ... and the Jag she drove.
The sight of all those beautiful clothes seemed to blot the memory of the pain from her mind. She had most everything she had ever wanted ... marriage to a successful movie director ... a beautiful home ... a powerful new car to drive ... and clothing - all original creations, with accessories to match. She had it made!
Yes! She had it made! From bit player to cameo roles, to stardom ... then, marriage to her director; it was her marriage that had made all of this affluence possible. But, it was also her marriage that had revealed a whole new and ugly world of sex to her. George Marklin, husband, was not the same man who had courted her with Old World eloquence and courtly manners.
"Beast!" she said to herself, again remembering the wounds on her body. Her hand strayed to a tender breast. Was it worth it? She knew the answer as she reached out to make a selection from a number of suits. Choosing a gay and colorful silk print dress she held it up to her body, her mind aglow with the prospect of her shopping tour planned for that day. Several well known boutiques were having special showings of their new collections. She had received special invitations! After all, she was Mrs. George Marklin and she had unlimited credit at all the salons. Crowded into the back of her mind was any serious consideration of the state of her marriage. The hurts of her voluptuous body were forgotten in the excitement of her preparations for a fabulous day of reckless spending. Yes! It was all worth it... to her!
Dressed in the mini-skirted print, her make-up done to perfection, Terri descended the stairs to the living room, intending to eat a small breakfast before leaving to drive to downtown Beverly Hills. Halfway down the stairs she saw him sprawled on the couch. Involuntary repulsion rose in her. It was Peter Marklin, her stepson, who at nineteen was only three years her junior. She had not quite adjusted - even yet - to the fact of their relationship, and she was made constantly aware of their nearness in age. Peter had a way of never/letting her forget. As she surveyed his figure' on the couch, he seemed to be sleeping. Good! The last thing she wanted was another confrontation with the youth. He had been gone for about ten days, and during that time she had lost some of the apprehension he generated in her.
Resolutely, she decided against breakfast; she would leave now, while he slept. She made for the service entrance leading to the garage.
Just as she reached the door, her hand on the doorknob, she was stopped, startled by his voice behind her.
"Terri!"
She whirled to face him, her defenses up. "Peter!" she gasped, "I thought you were asleep ... !"
Half-glazed eyes looked down at her. "I was," he said, *his dirty hand going uncertainly up to the scraggly beard and then going to his shoulder-length hair to scratch loose a flake of dandruff. "I was," he repeated, "but I heard you ... as you floated by ... and my dream became a reality ... the vision was you ... my dear mother..." He leered at her, her eyes sweeping over her trim body in bleary-eyed focus.
The wild look of him'frightened her. She had never seen him quite like this. Quickly, she said, "I have some shopping to do ... "
She turned to open the door, her only thought to avoid further contact with him. His hand closed over hers on the doorknob and his free hand rested on the jamb. She was trapped between him and the door as he stood close behind her, the uncomfortable closeness suddenly giving rise to a feeling of panic.
"Peter," she said, trying to make her voice firm, authoritative, "stop playing games!"
Turning in the circle of his arms, her eyes blazing up at him, she put both hands against his chest and shoved him roughly away. As she did so, she was aware of the filthy condition of his nondescript clothing, the stench of them filling her nostrils. Unconsciously, she noted as he stumbled back a pace that his fly was unzipped, his dirty shorts plainly visible through the opening.
"What's the matter, mother dear ... don't you dig me?"
"Don't be impossible!" she snapped.
"Hey, you're groovy when you're mad ..."
He came close to her, again, his lips twisted into a leer. She backed away until she touched the door. Whirling, she gained the doorknob and wrenched it open. In a moment she had gained the sanctuary of her car. The garage door had been left open by her husband. The way was clear for her escape. She keyed the powerful engine into life, slipped the gears into reverse and gunned the sleek car out into a circular driveway. She saw him in the rear view mirror. He stood in the door of the garage, his fly now fully open ... disgusting! As she drove rapidly down the driveway, he waved at her, his fingers shaping an obscene gesture.
"My God ... !" Terri said aloud to herself. "I don't believe it!"
Terri drove for several moments; meanwhile trying desperately to change the direction of her thoughts. Try as she might she could not erase that final scene from her mind.
Peter's youth she decided was the problem. They were too close together in age. How she was to cope with him she didn't know. She did know that the first thing would be never allowing herself to be alone with her stepson.
She stopped at a chic downtown restaurant for brunch, joining literally thousands of other women in a lonely quest for something ... something that she didn't quite recognize. Ostensibly, her search this morning was for more beautiful clothing to cover her beautiful hollow body; hollow because she was unfulfilled, and so the search went on ... would go on; indeed, it must go on!
Then, she remembered Ben ... Ben Whitlow was his name, and she realized how nearly alike they were... Ben, when she had been seventeen, and Peter, now.
When you 're seventeen ...in high school, playing the game, you know everything is right... right for you and all the other groovy kids your age, because adults are wrong! They don't understand kids. The teachers, especially ... they 're still living in the stone age! : You wear the costume and speak the jargon ... because it's yours, exclusively ... and you feel real far-out:.. you 're with it. And your parents don't understand you. You want it that way! If the deep-down truth were known ... you want it that way because you don't understand yourself... and that's too painful! You're an in-between - not a child and not an adult - so you play the game.
And the game ... ? What are the rules of the game? No... they're not written down and organized into a book like baseball and football. There isn't any manual you can follow. It's like follow the leader. And who are the leaders? They 're the new elite... the singers ... the disc jockeys ... the new generation of movie actors and the New Left student leaders. These set the trends in speech, clothing and attitudes. Reject the old! Only the new is worthwhile... and never trust anybody over twenty-five!
Terri grinned to herself, remembering how close she, herself, was to that dreaded age. How she had changed! It was hard for her to believe that it had been such a short time ago.
You talked about the singing groups ... about drugs ... and sex. Mostly, you talked. You knew that there were some kids who were turned on to drugs, but there really weren't so very many of them. Some of them got busted and there was more to talk about. You defended drugs - that was the thing to do - but you didn't take drugs. You knew the jargon ... popping pills ... downers, uppers ... dropping acid ... blowing grass ... getting busted by the pigs: It was all part of the game ... wasn't it?
Sex was part of the talking game ... everybody talked frankly and openly about sex. According to the way they talked, everybody was turned on to sex ... everybody was doing it... some were doing it every night... and they knew every way to do it. They knew all the words and used them. It was real groovy!
And Ben Whitlow was the most turned on. His hair was long. He wore a moustache and the most far-out clothes. He had been the center of a flap about long hair, beards and non-conformist clothing ... the school was insisting on adherence to the dress code for students, but Ben's father, an attorney, had pressed the school board, taking Ben's case to court where he had won.
The uptight community was licked. The kids took over. They dressed and acted almost any way they chose. It was fun time. The establishment was backed to the wall.
Well... almost all, but not Terri's parents. They bent a little; they allowed Terri some freedom, but mostly they tried to hold the rebellious girl within reasonable bounds. Terri was angry and frustrated with them. She considered running away from home. She didn't run away, fortunately. Instead, she rebelled in other ways. She would stay out too late, sitting in Ben's car talking and petting. Eventually, the petting got out of hand. She hadn't wanted it to go that far; there was still something of respect in her for her parents' values. She would not have admitted it... but it was there, in her basic character. If she had examined her thinking closely, she would have realized that she still wanted to save it for her future husband.
Ordering a second cup of coffee, Terri grimaced wryly to herself. Yes, she had managed to save it for husband; then wondered cynically to herself whether it had been worthwhile. Momentarily, she was aware of the pains last night's session had produced.
It had been a lark ... lying to her parents - telling them she and Ben were going across town to a movie - then driving to Ben's house ... all pre-arranged, since his parents were out of town for a long, four-day weekend. At least, it had started out as a lark ... they were going to play house!
"But don't get any ideas, Ben ... no fancy ideas!" she had warned.
"Don't you trust me, Terri baby?"
"You know I do ... I've already let you ..." she began, her face coloring in an embarrassed flush, "Go as far as you're going to go!" she finished, snappily.
"Cool it, baby ... no need to get uptight!"
Ben had made them tall, cool drinks, and they were outside, lounging beside the kidney-shaped swimming pool. The alcohol swam in her brain. Images and memories were not quite clear. Suddenly, she was in the pool, completely clothed ... and she couldn't remember ... had she fallen ... or was she pushed?
Terri remembered the details of the rest of that evening. Actually, she would remember them for the rest of her days.
Ben helped her from the pool, and together they went into the house to change. Terri even managed a laugh at their predicament.
"What a sight I must be ... my hair so wet and stringy ... !"
"Groovy!"
She frowned. "Can we put these things in the dryer?"
"Of course," he said, "only forty-five minutes."
"And can I wear something of your mother's while ... ?"
"Yeah, man... like one of her sexy nightgowns!"
"No sex ... remember? You promised!"
"Oh, did I... ?"
"You know you did!" she said quickly.
"But I get ideas when I see naked women ..."
"I'm not - naked yet... "
"You will be... and I've got a good imagination!"
Terri fled toward a bathroom, flinging over her shoulder, "Be good, now ... and bring me a pair of your mother's capris ... or something..."
She didn't hear Ben mutter, "Baby ... it'll be the 'or something'!"
In the tiled bathroom, Terri undressed, stripping the wet, clammy garments from her budding voluptuousness and grabbing a fluffy towel to dry herself. She watched her reflection in the full-length mirror with fascination - her parents had never installed one in their home - studying carefully what she saw there. Ever since she had become a woman (she knew she was a woman the first time her menses had appeared) she had had a more than curious interest in her own body. She noted the creamy smoothness of her skin, her high, taut, but small breasts that were not yet filled out... no extra flesh on her ribs or belly... the gentle slope of her shoulders ... her narrow waist and curvingly swelling hips. Her long length of leg, their shapeliness of tapering thighs, slightly dimpled knees and curving calves into trim ankles, all grounded on long, narrow feet had always pleased her, and she turned before the mirror, surveying herself critically. She liked most of what she saw - the only thing she wished for fervently was that her breasts would fill out a little bit more, and her derriere was a little more boyish than she thought it should be; otherwise ... well, she knew that she was feminine and desirable.
She dropped the lid of the commode and sat down to dry her feet. Suddenly she was aware of a disturbing, tingling warmth of fullness and desire. She felt hot, and remembered with a quick blush how she had let Ben touch the most secret places of her body with his hand. She had both liked it and hated it... hated it because she had become like putty in his hands when he touched her there; she had almost succumbed that time ... she had been on the verge of telling him to go ahead and do it to her!
It must be the drink, she decided, that had gotten her so worked up. Her experience with alcohol had been very limited. She was not sure what her reactions to its effects were, but she did know that the feelings generated in her spelled danger! Well... she would have to see to it she kept her head, tonight.
As Terri sat languidly, smoking a cigarette and drinking her coffee in a Beverly Hills restaurant, remembering how she had been that night... when she had been on the point of taking that giant step into adulthood ... when she had been a frightened teen-ager ... scared of the unknown ... ready, but unready, yet... knowing, yet not knowing what to expect, she became acutely aware that the re-creation in her mind of that night had not been wasted ... her body was reacting, and she shifted uncomfortably in her chair and carefully re-crossed her legs. She was getting hot! But, God... What could she do about it? She wouldn't dare do what she knew other women did - perhaps even some here in this restaurant. They picked up men during the day, had their fun, and, presumably, their husbands were none the wiser. But George? God! George had made it clear to her that she would never be unfaithful to him! His was a consuming jealousy. If he ever carried �ut even a small portion of what he threatened ... ! She shuddered. Her husband was certainly a strange man, to put it mildly. Forcefully, she put him out of her mind. Her reverie returned. She was back in Ben Whitlow's house, naked in the bathroom.
The door to the bathroom had opened slowly, gently and almost noiselessly. Terri jumped to her feet, her towel held instinctively in front of her. Ben stood there tall and unmoving, wearing only his tight jockey shorts, his long hair and scraggly moustache. The lustful look in his eyes was frightening. She gasped aloud, her eyes wide with fear.
"Ben! You promised me ... "
He stepped toward her, his slender but somewhat muscular body exuding his sexual self-confidence. His head shook from side to side, negatively, and his mouth worked.
"No! I didn't promise you ... anything ... remember?"
"My God, Ben ... ! We can't... do it... ! What if your folks were to come back ... w-walk in on us ... " she faltered, trying to find some reason to make him change his mind.
"No way!" he said, "they're down at the beach with another couple ... the Maynards ... and if my guess is right, they're having a swap meet. They're a real swinging foursome!"
"You mean ... y-your mother and father ... a-are doing it with another couple ... ?" she asked, a sudden truth dawning on her. To reinforce her supposition, she went on, "Y-your father and Mrs. Maynard ... and Mr. Maynard ... a-and y-your mother ... ?"
"Hell! Do I have to spell it out for you? They're like one big, happy family! Jack and Jill... and Betty and Bob ...
"Oh, Lord! I - I never dreamed ..."
But then, he had reached for her, tugging the towel from her grasp and dropping it to gather her into his strong, young arms, her naked flesh pressed tightly and helplessly against him as he kissed her with ardent passion, flattening and spreading her lips, his tongue probing until she uncontrollably thrust her tongue searchingly into his mouth, tasting him.
The hollow fright in the pit of her stomach came to life, and her legs became rubbery as she felt herself being transported by them out of the bathroom and into a bedroom, her body plastered to his as they moved almost as one person."
Together, they seemed to float across the floor, the giddiness in her head, the lack of strength in her body weakening her resistance, and she fluttered down under the pressure he exerted til they were both stretched out on top of the queen-size bed of his parents. She moaned once, aloud.
"Nooooooo!"
His mouth covered hers, again, and muffled the sound, his hands beginning to explore her body. She whined feebly as the sensations keened within her.
"Please, Ben ... no!" she pleaded, ever more aware of her danger.
It was as though she had not spoken, his hands were prowling her body with a mind of their own, his own brain senseless to any other stimuli. She moaned again, softly ...
"Oh, darling ... Ben!" she panted into his mouth, "O, God, we can't ... we mustn't... Ben!"
"Terri... Terri, baby! I've got to ... !"
Then, his ever-questing mouth was sliding down over her quivering breasts and belly. Again, she endeavored to stop him, but her will and her body had become, seemingly, momentarily paralyzed. His head moved lower...
With great effort, she found a croaking voice. "No, Ben, no!" But he paid no attention; he concentrated only on the demands of his body. And intense, insane spasms shot through her own naked, defenseless body, demanding sexual fulfillment.... And, yet... something within her cried out against it.
"Oooooooh," a long, agonized groan rose from deep in her throat; she heard herself as she moaned down at him. "Ben... we've got to stop! We can't go on! We can't!"
"Terri... darling ... my God! I want you!" he ground out between clenched teeth.
"No ... Ben, darling... no! It's not good ... ! You'd hate me afterward ... not respect me!" she moaned, trembling with the need of him.
"We're not talking about... respect! It's love ... loving! Damn it... don't you see ... ? I've got to! You can't leave me like this ... high and dry ... if you really love me ... !"
God! She must let him, her body, the physical side of her being told her, but her mind still struggled to maintain some semblance of control of her runaway senses. She wanted it! She wanted him! She couldn't stop herself now! It was a losing battle she fought with herself!
"Terri..." he grated in her ear, "I can't wait... ! God! I can't... wait any longer ..."
The length of his body rolled on top of her, his frantic face above her, where she read the lust and determination that drove him, and it was then that something in her snapped her back to reality; perhaps it was the realization that the game had become real... too real, and that the stakes were high ... higher than she wanted to( go!
"No! Ben! No! I can't let you do it... and make a complete mess of everything ... for us!"
Her mouth was imprisoned by his, but she talked wetly into his mouth, her words muffled ... "Listen to me, darling ... please, listen to me! It's not right... for us ... and we'll both be sorry. It'll be so much better ... for both of us ... if we wait..."
"I've waited too damned long, baby! I want you ... right now!" he grunted.
She hugged him close to her and kissed him hard.
"Please, oh, please, Ben... isn't there something else ... I - I could do ... ?" she pleaded, realizing that it would somehow be inhuman to stop him from gaining the relief, the sexual release, he obviously needed, but he seemed oblivious to her words.
Then, suddenly, as she tried to hold him away from her, he emitted a harsh grating cry and she felt something warm and wet splash onto her abdomen and begin to run down over her thighs.
Finally, with a huge groan, he collapsed on top of her, heavily, panting and sobbing, child-like in his explosive release. She caressed his head gently and thought to herself: OH, GOD! I WANTED IT TO HAPPEN ... BUT NOT NOW! NOT LIKE THIS! WAS I WRONG TO ... TO KEEP HIM OUT?
Ben sat up slowly, not looking at her. He eased his frame over to the side of the bed and stretched his legs over the side; he reached to a box of tissues, extracted several and handed Terri a few of them. She followed his lead, wiping herself as best she could. She pushed her hair back from her face and slid across the bed to him; her arms went around his waist and she buried her face in his shoulder.
"Sorry ... baby ..." he muttered softly, "I guess I shouldn't have come on so strong ..."
Terri's nerves were still on edge from lack of satisfaction. She decided not to let it show, and kissed the nape of his neck.
"Get me something to wear ...and we'll get my clothes into the dryer... O K.?" she said lightly.
He nodded, arose, fumbled in the closet and found a dressing robe of his mother's. Handing it to her, he asked, "This O K.?"
"Perfect," she got up from the bed and slipped into the garment.
Ben hesitated, standing, uncertainly, near the door, still nude - his manhood now hanging limp and innocent.
She noticed his uncertainty and wondered about it. Wondered if he was thinking of trying again ...
"You'll take me right home ... as soon as my things are dry?"
"Yeah, O K____"he agreed. He turned and left the bedroom. She heard him enter his own room, down the hallway, and she knew it would be all right.
Suddenly, as Terri sat at the restaurant table, she was jolted back to the present by the realization of what she had been doing by re-living that episode in her life. God! She had made herself hot! She was actually close - too close - to orgasm. Hastily, she gathered her purse and made her way quickly to the plush restroom. Then safely in the privacy of a cubicle, she gratefully allowed herself the luxury of a gasping self-induced climax, using her hand to stimulate her throbbing flesh. It was a surgingly welcome release, but her feelings were mixed; she was glad and relieved physically, but there was still the repugnance for the act, the feeling of guilt that had been ingrained in her from early childhood. It was something a nice girl did not do!
Emerging from the enclosure, she found herself face-to-face with a svelte, chicly dressed woman, who, at the exact instant, was just coming out of the adjoining cubicle.
Suddenly Teni realized that she had not been alone; however, she was quite certain she had been the only occupant when she had entered the lounge. This woman must have come in later while she ... she had been occupied with her own debased relief. She felt her face reddening. God! This woman knew!
A quick, friendly smile on the other woman's face put her at least partially at ease. She smiled a tenuous smile of her own and headed for the door. The last thing she wanted was a stranger knowing who she was.
"Terri ... Terri O'Neal isn't it?" The woman's musical voice stopped her. "I've always enjoyed your pictures."
"T-Thank you ... I'm glad ..." Terri said weakly, turning again to leave that confined place and perhaps ... an embarrassing incident... if the woman were to refer to what had just taken place.
"You're even more beautiful, in person, than on the screen," the other continued. The woman, somewhat taller than Terri, stood directly behind her, and she was aware of the exquiste perfume, the obviously cultured tones of her voice and the nearness; the uncomfortable nearness that made Terri's skin crawl with apprehension.
"You flatter... me," Terri said in a small voice. "I - I really don't feel like I - I'm that much..."
"You're a very lovely woman ... a woman to be loved..." the other said, softly, then continued, "to be loved ... properly ..."
Terri turned to face the stranger, her face flushed, "If you'll excuse me," she said, "I must be going..."
The woman's eyes bored into her, and Terri looked away, quickly, recognizing at once the meaning of the words reflected there. She read burning desire. She had seen it in the eyes of men often enough... but in a woman, never. Hastily, Terri swung the door open, but the woman's hand on her arm restrained her. The stranger's voice crooned, "Don't be hasty! There are many delights to be found ... in the arms of another woman. I could make your life something unbelievable!"
"Please ... y-you don't understand ... I'm married ... and my husband ..." Terri fumbled, at the same time attempting to leave the room.
"But... I do understand! Otherwise ..." the woman's pause was significant, loaded with meaning.
Terri wrenched herself free of the woman's grasp on her arm, "Let go of me!" she snapped.
Instead, the tall, strange woman leaned forward and kissed Terri full on the mouth. Somehow, it both intrigued her and repulsed her, at the same time. The soft, yet warm and flooding passion of the woman's mouth on her own made swift lightning strokes along her nerve endings that she could never have explained.
Lifting her head, the woman looked into Terri's eyes. "If you change your mind ... call me at this number ... after seven."
Terri looked down at the scrap of paper thrust into her hand. It bore only a telephone number. "W-what... ?" she stammered.
"Ask for Pauline!" the woman said, and swept regally through the door.
Numbly, not knowing what she was doing, Terri automatically stuffed the scrap of paper into her purse, self-consciously checked her make-up in the mirror, brushed at an imaginary out-of-place lock of hair, left the room, paid her check and found her way to her car. At this point, she was too dumbfounded to realize, or even to contemplate, the importance to her of this encounter with Pauline Riggs.
Finally, after long moments sitting at the wheel of her car, she heaved a long sigh. "I don't believe it," she said to herself.
She stared the car, swung out of the parking lot and headed for the first salon showing she had planned to attend that day, but as she drove, she could not shake the images of that bizarre encounter from her mind. The words, the voice, the woman was still there, rattling around in her skull - but mostly, it was the kiss ... a woman's kiss, that she remembered!
Chapter Two
Terri attended showings at only two salons before she returned home early, sick at heart and seething with rage and frustration. She had been informed so very tactfully and with perfect diplomacy that her charge accounts were closed. Cash payments were now the order of the day... "I'm sure you will understand, Mrs. Marklin ... but Mr. Marklin ..."
She understood, all right. George had cut her off, but why hadn't he the decency to tell her himself? It had been embarassing, humiliating and degrading for her, especially in the shops where she was quite well known.
Going directly to her bedroom, thankful that her step-son, Peter, didn't seem to be around, she stripped herself naked and drew a hot bath. She soaked and luxuriated in the bubble bath, washing away her aches and cares. Not really knowing what to expect when her husband came home, she needed this time for herself. There was bound to be a confrontation. It would probably be ugly. In the short space she had been married to George Marklin, she had learned much about him, but on reflection, she had to admit, she didn't really know him.
Terri had been captured by the silver screen. She was enthralled by the magic and glamour of the people who inhabited the never-never land of Hollywood. She knew that someday that life would be hers, too. Everything she did was aimed at only one thing. She, too, would be a rich and famous movie star; a sex goddess in that almost unattainable Olympus where the legends and myths were manufactured.
It had not been easy. She had, literally, clawed her way upwards. Entering beauty contests of every sort, she had learned how to use her body and face to best advantage, and along the way she had had to defend herself from those who wanted to take advantage of her. More than once she had had to keep some sex-hungry beauty contest manager at bay. She knew that she could have done it differently; other girls of her acquaintance had gone that route ... on their backs, but Terri had decided that that would not be her way. Had success been hers? Yes, it had. She had won two contests fair and square. She was noticed. She did get some small acting parts; finally, she was signed for a supporting role, which she handled adequately. She was known - not famous or rich - but she was somebody in Hollywood. Then came her big chance. She was signed to a starring role. George Marklin was her director, and the whole world was her cup of tea ... for a few months.
George Marklin, director, man-of-the-world, European-born, was like no man Terri had ever met. It was a thrill for her, each and every day that she worked for him. His sure and skillful direction brought out the best in her. The result was well worthwhile. The picture received good notices and good box office returns.
During the course of making the picture, Terri accepted several dates with Marklin. His manners were beyond question. He wooed her in true European style. Finally, he asked for her hand in marriage, and Terri knew that her world was complete. What more could she ask for from life?
Little did she know what life had in store for her as wife to George Marklin. She embarked upon her married life buoyant and full of hope. Fortunately, she was flexible, for she soon learned how far she had to bend. Had she not had this flexibility, she would have been broken and ruined both physically and mentally.
As she soaked in the tub, trying desperately to relax, her mind wandered, and she found herself thinking, again, about her wedding night bed. She wondered now whether or not it had been worth the trouble. Morbidly, she reflected on it. George Marklin was a beast!
Terri had had a beautiful wedding. She had made careful preparations and planned every detail of it. Everything had gone off beautifully. Soon -after the wedding reception, George had whisked her away, driving rapidly into the mountains where he had rented a secluded cabin for their honeymoon. She had had her heart set on a South American cruise, but George had ruled otherwise. He wanted to be alone with her. There would be too many people on a cruise ship. And so it was that Terri's wedding night, a night she would always remember, was spent in a remote mountain cabin.
George had already consumed several drinks during the reception. After unpacking, he nursed a tall highball, standing stockily near the fireplace and watching Terri narrowly as she moved about arranging things to her satisfaction.
"It is time," he pronounced, finally, "to get into bed and consummate our marriage!" He spoke thickly with a slight Italian accent. Terri had wondered about his manner of speech, and before they were married, he confided to her that he had changed his name for professional reasons; however, he did not tell her what his name had been before the change.
"All right, darling ... just as soon as I arrange my clothes in the closet," Terri answered.
"I mean ... now!" he snapped.
Terri looked up quickly, saw the look that accompanied his words and decided that she had best drop what she was doing and attend to her marital obligations. She knew there would be sex. That was part of being married. For that she was prepared. She wanted desperately to be a good wife.
"Yes, of course, George darling... if you insist..."
Louder now, with more authority, he said, "I do insist! One thing you must understand clearly for once and for all... / am the head of my household! What I say is law!"
This authoritative side of her husband had been revealed to her earlier, when they had been working on the picture together, but she was somewhat surprised that he found it necessary to say it to her this bluntly ... on their wedding night.
"The man is always... is expected to lead ... isn't he?"
"Yes! I just want to make sure you understand that!"
"I understand, darling," she said sweetly.
"Then get into bed!" he roared. "I'm going to de-flower you!"
"De-de-flower ... m-me ... ?" she stuttered, "W-what do you mean?"
"Oh, that is from the old country," he said, "Here they call it getting the cherry, I believe," he grinned.
Terri turned away in embarrassment, her "cheeks flushing. She knew she was still virgin ... the memory of that night with Ben tingled through her.
"I'll change into my nightgown... in the bathroom," she said, picking up the garment.
Slamming the highball glass down, he had reached her in two quick strides. He pushed his livid face, the anger flashing from his eyes, down next to her own blushing countenance. She realized, on the instant, that he was drunker than she had thought he was. His mouth worked, roaring and sputtering into her face. "No! Goddamnit! Strip! I'm going to take you right now!"
Unconsciously, she began to back away from him; she was shocked and frightened of his sudden anger, the authoritative manner, and the vulgar way he was talking.
The backs of her knees contacted the edge of the bed, but she caught her balance. George stood close to her, his voice softer now, but more deadly. "You are my wife now! You will do as I say! There will be no arguments!"
His hand shot out, a short, punishing openhanded slap to the side of her face. She fell back sprawling on the bed, a gasp of pain and disbelief escaping her twisted lips.
"Ooooooh! George!"
Then, she saw him stagger toward her, his hands fumbling with his belt buckle. Her breath caught in her throat, and in confused panic, she wrung herself from the opposite side of the bed, gained her feet and dashed blindly for the door. She grabbed the knob and pulled frantically. It - .is locked!
George's hard laugh behind her caused her to swing back to face him. He grinned at her lewdly, his tongue darting out to wet his full, sensuous lips.
"Even if you could get out... where would you go?" he gloated thickly. His eyes blazed. "Strip. I said! Make yourself naked!"
Faltering with fear, she pleaded, "G-George ... please, George ... not this way ... can't you give some time . . t-to ... ?"
"Get your clothes off!" And then he mouthed an obscene word.
"Oh, my God!" she had gasped, revulsed at the sound of the vulgarity; then, she could only watch, petrified and fascinated while her dear husband of only a few hours began to remove his clothes. It suddenly became clear to her that this man was not the same man she had married. There must be some horrible mistake! Could she have unwittingly become involved with some horrible monster - a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde? Oh, God!
At last he stood block-like before her, his thick, stocky body nudely licentious. She didn't want to look, but inexorably her eyes were drawn back.
"You do find it fascinating ... don't you my dear?" he leered, obviously relishing the shameful torment he was inflicting on her. "I would be willing to bet that you had no idea your darling husband was this well endowed!"
"P-please ... is it... n-necessary t-to?"
He laughed lewdly. "Yes! Just wait - you will fully appreciate it in a few minutes!" Moving toward her, giving the impression almost of a stalking beast of prey... or a hunting dog on the point, he went on with his debasing monologue. "I will tell you one thing ... more than one little bitch has begged for mercy before I got through with her!"
"Ugh!" her cry of revulsion tore from her lips.
Marklin started to laugh, then caught himself. He had had a new thought. "You are a virgin, aren't you?" His eyes narrowed menacingly, "You had better be!"
"There's n-never been anybody ... e-else ..." she faltered.
"And ... another thing you must know about me," he croaked, "never lie to me ... ever!"
Tears began to spill over her eyelids to run down her cheeks. She felt so much on the defensive, and now this, this doubt in her husband's mind about her virginity ... even her veracity. She could stand no more.
"Stop it! Stop tormenting me!" she had Aouted at him, her face paling now with the fury she felt.
He watched the change in her, as her face contorted with anger and repugnance, but he went on with his torment, advancing steadily on her. "Very pretty, my dear! Why couldn't I get a performance like this while we were shooting on location?"
Terri's hypnotized eyes followed his advance. My God! She was terrified of the massive instrument of his manhood ... it would tear her apart!
"D-don't you dare come any closer, George! Don't touch me!" she blurted, the loathing and fear searing her mind and viscera equally. But she knew that words were meaningless and futile. Her husband was going to take her helpless, virginal body no matter how she pleaded with him or begged him for mercy. She was going to be raped! Oh, God! This wasn't the way she wanted it to be ... for the very first time ... She had saved it... fought to save it... for all those years ... for this! Saved it... only to be raped on her wedding night! The irony of it was not entirely wasted on her. But worse ... Dear God! He had a right to take her! It couldn't really be called rape. Were husbands ever taken to court for wedding night rape? She knew the answer. It was a resounding NO!
"Well, are you going to do as I say ... strip off your clothes ... or do I remove them ... in shreds?"
Terri had stood there completely helpless, defenseless, petrified with terror and shock, until he had reached out for her, jerking her body into his broad, hairy chest, a strong hand going behind her head, holding it rigid while his wet, sensuous lips covered hers tightly his tongue lashing deep into her mouth. She was conscious of the burning heat of his maleness even through the layers of her clothing. She did not resist him. After all, if this was the way it was to be ...
Methodically, George began to strip her. She hadn't resisted him, she told herself because she had suddenly realized the futility of struggle. She was his wife. She was his to do with as he chose. God, what a farce! What monstrous irony!
"Let me get you ready now," her husband crooned, "for a loving you'll never forget!"
She recoiled once more at his vileness as he breathed hotly into her tear-stained face, and she was but dimly conscious of his eager, blunt ringers as they tugged at zippers and unfastened snaps, until the cool mountain air flowed over her naked flesh, causing the nipples of her proud, full breasts to harden; then, she felt her panties being pulled down over her soft, rounded contours.
He stepped back to gaze at her admiringly, while Terri closed her eyes and stood with chin held high, desperately trying to control the tears that flooded her eyes. She swayed, nearly losing her balance. God! There was nothing left to her but shame!
"Mother of Christ! You are a truly luscious sight!" he gasped, the Italian blasphemy ripping from him as he pulled her against his lustful nakedness, crushing her softness flat against his hard, muscular chest, his broad, blunt hands slipping behind her to pull her hips tightly into him.
"You are all I thought you would be! Now, I am truly sorry that we did not shoot that scene in the nude. I was jealous of that leading man! God! How I wanted you ... each time that you were in his arms! I wanted to throw you to the ground ... and take you right there! Just spread those beautiful long legs of yours right there ... !"
"Oh, God" she had moaned, almost incoherent, as she rested her face on his, unable to comprehend the rising eroticism his passionate yet obscene description engendered in her. She was allowed only a fleeting glimpse of this arousal. Suddenly, he had caught her hair, jerked her head back and his questing mouth found hers. His tongue burst into her mouth while a clawed hand clutched and kneaded the soft parts of her body without mercy. The pinching and twisting quenched the fleeting sexual thirst of the moment before. Now, there was only pain.
She whimpered against his lips, her eyes flooding with the tears of her shame and humiliation ... and there was the deception of this man who was now her husband ... he, who had been so gentle and gentlemanly and who now was acting so beastly ... almost animalistic in his approach to her. Her romantic ideas of married love had already been shattered. Then, there was the dread, the very present fear in her of that moment - not very far off now - when he would take her virginity.
Oh, my God! What had she done to herself? What had she gotten into? What was she to do? There was nowhere to turn. Np one to whom she could turn. There was nothing. Nothing!
And then, suddenly, he was leading her to the bed! Her husband was taking her to her marriage bed ... and she didn't want to go!
All she could visualize, now, was the pain that would be hers in a few moments. Incoherently, she began to beg, "Oh, please, G-George ... please be gentle, promise me you'll be gentle ... a-and not... h-hurt m-me ..."
Even as she pleaded she knew that her words fell on deaf ears. George moved her around and pressed her down onto the bed before him, his lewd smile of anticipation etched into her memory as she closed her eyes and tried once more. "I've never ... been ... My God! D - Don't you understand? I'm really a - a ... virgin, George!"
He was on all fours on the bed above her. He grinned down at her, drunkenly, lustfully, one knee working itself between her instinctively clasped thighs.
"That makes me very happy," he slurred, "Every man should have a virgin bride! Some places I know about... there has to be a bloody sheet to show the people .. or the bride loses her head!" He made a motion with his hand across her neck to illustrate his point. Terri shuddered, the image in her mind almost too real for her.
"It's time for me to find out if I have been so lucky as to have chosen a virgin bride," he went on, then, abruptly, "Open your legs!"
"Oooh, please, George... be gentle with me ..." she breathed.
"Spread your legs! Wide!" he snarled. There was nothing else that mattered to him except getting into her tender, chaste flesh. It drove him almost obsessively.
Reluctantly, she had obeyed. "Y - you'll be careful" . ? Please don't... h - hurt me!"
Nothing came from him for answer; he only sucked in a deep breath and dropped suddenly down upon her!
"Oh...OOohh, my God..." she had moaned beneath his brutal attack. He held her there immobile on the bed, imprisoning her there with the weight of his heavy body, her head flailing desperately from side to side.
Terror seized her in its awful grasp. She tried to scream and found her vocal cords paralyzed. The agonizing pressure had begun, and for one brief moment she had thought that she could stand it, but it became obvious to her quickly that the disparity of size would never allow a fit. Again, a scream formed in her throat.
"OOOoooooohhhh, Goddddddd! NOOOOOooooooo!"
Her vision spun crazily, Her brain reeled, the keening, cutting edge of fear slicing her reason to ribbons. She heard his vile curses of frustration, then he pressed against her, again, using all his strength of back and legs.
She was nearly unconscious, but in an instant the pain brought her around. Her head flailed, insanely, and she tried to rake her talon-like nails across his face as she writhed and twisted beneath him with the strength of a madwoman in her attempt to escape the cruel and agonizing pain.
Helplessly, she squealed in animal pain and fear, much as a hunted doe that has been run to ground and run through by the hunter's lance as he caught her wrists in a powerful hand and pinned them back over her head to the bed; her legs kicked out in a frantic effort to find relief, but the movement only made her position that much worse.
She screeched and wailed with the almost unbelievable pain. Her incoherent babbling fell on deaf ears as, brutally, he continued his attack, his obvious pleasure revealed in his uncontrolled breathing.
Words swarmed in her brain. She tried to speak, to beg, to say anything ... anything at all that would penetrate to him, but the unformed words stuck in her throat. He had ripped her breath away.
Her husband had not stopped. He didn't give her even a moment to adjust to his sudden invasion. He was like some wild, hungry animal. This whole episode, she realized dimly, was all for his own gratification. Half in shock and pain, half from shame and humiliation, as well as a full measure of heartbreak and disillusionment, she had gaped up hopelessly into his lust-contorted face, attempting to fathom what lay behind that mask.
Her eyes had blurred with tears, more from the mental anguish than from the pain, for slowly the pain had begun to subside. She finally knew that there would be nothing for her but the pain and torture, but for him his only goal was his own satisfaction.
It was ever thus, she decided, it was the age-old heritage of the female: to lie on her back and be dominated by the male ... to be an object only of his lust... for his pleasure. There has to be more ... Oh God, hasn't there? ... And, he had dominated her. Again and again during that awful night, he had sated himself... but never once did he wait for her own need to be fulfilled. For her, it was a sleepless night of sexual horror.
Time, the healer of all things, allowed the pain to pass from her almost completely: it was then that she felt little exciting tingles stir deep within her, fiery tongues of ecstasy had begun to keen through her young, sensitive flesh, and for very brief periods of time she had thought there would be some of the more she had expected.
Uncontrollably, her whole body had begun to react, twitching and writhing beneath him, and she had groaned up into his face with anticipation, shoving her tongue hungrily into his throat and mewling her need of him: quivering as she waited for something, if, to happen ... for that something more to happen to her.
She loved him! Oh, God, yes! She loved this man, her husband! She would always love him ... no matter what he did to her! She knew it at that moment... for she felt it coming! Oh, God! It was coming to her ... at last!
And, at that moment she would have done anything for him ... if only he would bring her to the heights with him. She had nearly begged him for it! Her body-mind screamed for sexual release, for she felt only a hair's breadth away from the pinnacle she had been trying to reach for hours. Only split seconds away from that point in time where she would have been a completely fulfilled woman, he had, again, reached his own tumultous climax and collapsed in complete exhaustion on top of her. In moments he was sound asleep, leaving her aroused, frustrated and wakeful. Her tears ran unnoticed down her cheeks to soak the bed beneath her head.
Terri stirred in the now chilly water of her bath, coming slowly back to the reality of the present. Such had been her wedding night, she mused sadly, and the other nights since. Her mercurial husband had taught her many things, but not, she knew, the one thing that had saved her sanity.
That was her secret. George Marklin would never know, she vowed, as she rose from the tub, stepped into the shower and finished her bath. Yes, she mused, he would never know that he had never satisfied her, sexually, but she had found a way; her satisfaction was never farther away than her own hand!
Refreshed from her bath, Terri dried herself languidly, enjoying the narcissistic sensations she could create in her own body. Then, she combed out her hair, applied light makeup and lay down on her bed, nude, to take an afternoon nap. She wanted to be ready for whatever transpired when her husband arrived home. Experience told her that it would be better to be rested. Her coining ordeal could be ugly... and it might last for a long time; additionally, she knew that would end in the same way: her husband would have his way, sexually, with her. This she knew for certain!
In his bedroom, downstairs, Peter Marklin sat cross-legged in the middle of his rumpled bed. Morosely, he considered the glowing ash of the marijuana cigarette he held carefully between thumb and forefinger, the burning end turned in toward the palm of his hand. He was just beginning to get the effects of it... the sensation of floating, not caring... of time standing still... of more acute awareness, the ability to think with an uncluttered mind. To a casual observer he would look serene, zonked out, but inwardly, he seethed with half-formed images ... images that all involved his lovely young step-mother. She was a fantasy lover, the perfect woman, earth-mother and Aphrodite, all rolled into one package named Terri.
"Groovy!" he said, speaking only to himself, "Groovy ..." He summoned up the vision of Terri, her nylon-clad legs climbing the stairs when she had come home that same afternoon. He had peeped at her from hiding. It was all he could do ... then. God! How he had wanted to conjure up the courage to follow her to her room ... make love to her ... force her, if necessary!
"Groovy, man! Groovy!" he said, again, to himself as his souped-up imagination led to the explicit details of what he would'like to do to Terri Marklin, his step-mother, as he took long drags on the cigarette.
The afternoon wore on, waned, and it was evening. He heard his father arrive ... heard all that went on in the room above him, later that evening, and in the small hours of the morning, before he finally dropped off to sleep, he had formulated his plan, the plan that would get him everything he wanted ... everything he had ever wanted in this world!
Below, out in the garden, another man thought about Terri. His fantasies were based on hopelessness, the unreality of a gardener's hopes in regard to her golden-blonde loveliness. Surreptitiously, he allowed his eyes to wander to the French windows where he had spied upon her that morning. He knew it would be too much of a risk to climb to that vantage point again, especially with young Marklin about the premises. He was pretty sure where the boy was in the house, but he couldn't take a chance that he would stay put.
Finally, overcome by a perverse and persistent longing to see her, again, he decided to scout out the situation, see whether such were possible. He had never tried the gambit in the afternoon; usually, as now, there were too many people around. Mid-morning, just after Terri arose, he had discovered was really the best time to indulge his voyeurism.
Walking casually around the large, old mansion, ostensibly carrying out his duties as gardener, Jack Chavez, peered into windows until he found what he was looking for; Peter Marklin in his own narcotic dream world, stoned on grass, stark naked, sprawled in the middle of his bed.
"Jesus," the Mexican said softly to himself, "The little bastard is zonked out on mary jane!"
He was certainly nothing to worry about, he decided. The kid sure as hell couldn't function in that condition!
Jack hadn't checked the Timex on his wrist, or he would have known his plan was ill-timed.
With deliberate ease he moved around the house to the trellis, carrying his clippers carelessly. He had just begun to climb when he heard the high-powered whine of the engine and the crunch of tires on gravel as George Marklin entered the long driveway.
"Damn!" he spat, aloud, this time. "The boss is coming!"
Moving with deliberate slowness, he moved off around the house, heading for the greenhouse, there he put his tools away, locked up, got into his ancient pickup truck and drove home ... home to his dinky little shack, a couple of beers and an evening of television on his beat-up old set.
As he headed off into traffic, he didn't feel particularly perturbed. Hell! There was always tomorrow. "Tomorrow," he told himself, "I'll get me another look at her! That's some woman!"
George Marklin's thoughts were on Terri also, as he drove along the freeway toward his home. He intended to make her into a very contrite young woman! Several times he had warned her about the mounting expenses for her clothing. It was not that he couldn't afford it; he could, and many times over. Rather, it was a matter of principle. He spoke, and he expected to be obeyed, without question; therefore, since Terri had disobeyed, she must be brought to task, and he had to admit to himself, that he rather enjoyed his role as taskmaster. In the end, he would have his way with his wife, as always, and tonight he had a particularly piquent notion as to how he would take her. Christ! It made him hot just thinking about it!
Of course, Marklin had never told his wife how much money he made. That was purely his own business ... and it was developing into a good business. It was almost foolproof... and to think he was carrying it out right under their very noses!
Pauline Riggs sighed as she finished posting the day's accounts. She hated this chore, but it was one of the small disadvantages she endured as manager of the exclusive dress shop. The advantages, for her, far outweighed these small inconveniences, especially in view of the new arrangements she had just completed. On the surface, at least, it was a workable idea: after it had been thoroughly explained to her, she had been wholeheartedly involved, and now that the plan had been in operation for about three months, affording her ample opportunity to fully realize the potential involved, she was an enthusiastic operator.
The best part of the whole thing was that Pauline got first crack at them, the lovely, unsuspecting things falling into her trap so easily where she could pluck them for herself, almost at will. There were five of them, now ... and the sixth, the most breathtakingly lovely of them all, was soon going to be hers. The only question in her own mind was whether she could pull this one off so circumspectly that the husband would never suspect. Things could blow wide open if George Marklin ever found out that she had lesbian designs on his wife.
Terri Marklin had not called her; no matter, she hadn't really expected that she would. Her approach had been much too direct, but she hadn't wanted to let the chance escape her there in the restaurant lounge.
Sometimes, the indirect approach was better.
She reached for the special engraved forms she had had prepared and addressed the envelope in her own somewhat bold handwriting.
Chapter Three
The afternoon mail the following day brought Terri an intriguing invitation: The Continental featured private showings and fittings, but of most interest to her was a line on the engraved card. It stated that personal accounts were available and were held in strictest confidence. What did it mean? Would she be able to open an account there in her own name without George ever finding out about itl
It had been true. Her husband had cut off all of her charge accounts. In place of these, he had opened a personal checking account for her, depositing an initial thousand dollars with a promise to her that if she could manage it wisely, he would deposit a thousand each month. This money was intended to take care of all her wants. The needs of the household were to be handled separately. Needless to say, Terri had been more than overjoyed when he had agreed to the arrangement. Now, this invitation from a shop - although it was one she knew little about - seemed a godsend, especially if she could open her own account, pay it once a month from her own checking account. It would certainly simplify things for her; she had never had a head for figures and keeping a checkbook straight had always been a big bore for her.
The following day, Terri drove across town to visit the Continental. It was just to look, she assured herself... perhaps to buy, only if she were satisfied that quality and style were up to her own tasteful standards. Surprisingly, she found all to her satisfaction, and she bought a chic suit at what she considered a fair price.
Then there were the necessary arrangements to be made concerning payment. She was ushered into the office of the manager. Mrs. Pauline Riggs, a small plate on the door stated. Terri walked in confidently, but felt almost like running from the sumptuous office when the woman who came toward her around the desk, smiling a genuine welcome, said, "Please come in, Mrs. Marklin, and welcome to the Continental..."
Involuntarily, Terri drew back and stifled a gasp, "No!"
"Yes . . . I'm Pauline ... Pauline Riggs ... I'm the manager," she said, completely unruffled.
"But...y-you're.."
"A very lonely woman."
"I didn't call... I - I threw the number away ... " Terri breathed.
"I thought as much, but no matter ... come, now ... let us get down to business, the real reason you're here, isn't it?" Pauline placated, changing the subject.
"Yes ... I - I was thinking about opening an account..."
"Please, sit down, my dear... and let's let bygones be just that, bygones... shall we? I promise you that I'll not mix business ... and pleasure." Her smile was disarming.
Terri sat down shakily, not sure that she should remain, but the older woman soon had her confidence, making the arrangements for the open account in Terri's own name. Assured that there would be no further pursuit, Terri relaxed, finally accepting the woman's open friendliness at face value.
When Terri left, Pauline Riggs indulged herself in silent mirth. It was now just a matter of time, and she, Pauline, was a very patient woman. She could wait!
Young Peter Marklin, on the day following after being zonked out on pot, began to make a remarkable change in himself. Several months before, the senior Marklin had ordered him to leave; his rebellion against his father's autocratic ways had led him to the non-comformist community of long hair, love beads, sandals and dirty clothing, along with its attendant proclivity for drugs and open sex.
Now he was, ostensibly, setting out to mend these broken fences and relationships. His overtures to his father had been successful. He had agreed - if he were to remain a part of the Marklin household - to get a reasonable haircut, shave his beard, dress with some degree of conformity... and try to do something constructive with his time. His father's suggestion: enter the fall term at one of the nearby state colleges. To all of this Peter had agreed with some show of contriteness. He was respectful to his father, polite to Terri... and miserable as he tried, manfully to live the straight, uptight life. All of this he was willing to do; it was a price he had decided to pay in the interest of getting what he wanted. The compromise would last for only a little while. Patiently, he waited for his chance. It wouldn't be long in coming. This he knew for sure!
Meanwhile, he must work on gaining Terri's confidence. His guile, gift of conversational gambits, and his apparent change worked like a charm, and soon he seemed to fit into the family slot his father had decreed for him.
Terri was pleased at his change. In a short while she began to accept him, to talk with him... and to feel a certain warmth and affection for him, and never once did he give her cause for alarm as he had on other occasions when he had made lewd proposals to her. There was a time, not long before, when she had considered telling the boy's father about his attitude and his actions toward her, but she had considered the possible consequences: would her husband believe her or the boy, if there were a confrontation? Knowing her husband's jealous nature, the possibility that he might misinterpret the situation, think that she had led the boy on, provoked him to make the sexual overtures, she had decided against such a move.
Now, everything seemed to be stable. She hoped it would remain that way. She was happy as long as she could have what she had now - dothing, a few good parties on their estate, invitations to other good parties at other equally posh estates, a few night-clubbing evenings each month, attendance at some of the more important premieres, her own car, her own checking account, and a famous husband. What more could she want? Of course, had she stopped to consider carefully, she would have discovered the one important ingredient missing from her life. It was love! She had sex ... more than could be handled, at times. Her husband's sexual appetites seemed to be almost boundless ...but love? No! There was no real love in her marriage.
It came as a complete shock to Terri. She held the bill in her hand as though it were a deadly rattlesnake. Included in the envelope was a short, courteous note signed by Pauline. Dear Terri, it said, Please come in to see me personally about this, signed, Pauline.
Heavens! The bill was for an amount exceeding fifteen hundred dollars! Had she overspent that much? Was there a possibility of a mistake in billing? It couldn't be ... that much! How could she possibly pay it? Why, it amounted to more than a month and a half of her allowance!
The next day she found herself in Pauline's office - they were on a first name basis at Pauline's insistence - sitting opposite the older woman who was strangely calm about the whole matter.
"Actually, Terri," Pauline was saying, "you needn't worry too much about this ... but I knew you wouldn't want your husband to learn of it."
"Oh, heavens, no!" Teri blurted.
"I thought as much..." the manager said, "but maybe there's a way out of this ..." she looked thoughtful, "Yes, I think so!"
Terri grasped at straws, as it were. She really had no idea of how she could handle such a debt. It was totally beyond her. "What do you mean?" she asked eagerly.
"I need another model... and I think you just might be exactly right for the job!"
"Really?"
"Yes ... that way, you could work off this amount and you'd be free of any worry," Pauline offered.
With a huge sigh of relief, Terri felt as though a misty burden had been lifted from her shoulders. "Oooohhhhh! That's wonderful! You're so ... so understanding ... and kind."
"Of course there's the audition ..."
"Au-audition ... ?"
"Naturally!" Pauline returned, "I'll have to make sure that you can do the job ... properly."
"Y-Yes, I suppose you're right..." Terry conceded, then brightened, "what do you want me to do, for the audition?"
"Well, come along with me upstairs. I have some things up there you can show off for me."
Pauline rose, crossed to the opposite wall, pressed a half-concealed button and the paneling before them slid back to reveal a small elevator.
Motioning Terri to enter, the older woman followed her into the small cubicle, closed the door, pressed the up button and they were whisked to the second floor where they entered a lavishly furnished apartment. Terri glanced around with appreciation, noting the expensive decor.
"How beautiful! I just love it!" Terry gushed.
"I had it fixed up for when I have to stay over late," Pauline said by way of explanation.
"Oh, then you don't live here?"
"Hardly, my dear. I have my own home out in Brentwood."
"Oh ..." Terri was impressed.
Pauline opened a spacious closet and selected a cocktail dress, a simple sheath, "This should do nicely."
Terri took the dress from her and glanced around questioningly as she held the dress up to her.
"You can change in there," Pauline indicated a closed bedroom door.
For the next half-hour, Pauline put Terri through the paces, explaining patiently to her what she wanted from her models. Terri learned fast, mimicking the older woman's examples to the letter. Her experience in beauty contests and later in movie work stood her in good stead, and Terri of course was an apt pupil, especially when it came to wearing good clothing well.
Everything had been on a purely business-like basis, but suddenly, the mood was shattered. Terri had changed into three different outfits: she now wore a fluffy nothing of a mini-dress. Each time, she had changed in the privacy of the ultra-feminine bedroom, but now she was startled by Pauline's imperious command, "You can take it off now, my dear! Take it all off!"
"I - I don't understand. Wh-what do you .."
"You'll be modeling some swimsuits... I want to see your figure." Pauline said.
"Oh," the flush that had begun on Tern's face receded, "Of course ... Pauline ... do you have a swimsuit for me to put on?"
Silently, Pauline handed her one of the new peek-a-boo models. Terri took it from her and went back into the bedroom. She had just removed the last of her underclothing, slipping her wispy nylon panties down over the swell of her smooth white thighs when Pauline entered quietly, standing at the half-open door, staring in frank appraisal at the vision of the feminine loveliness before her.
"Perfect, my dear ... just perfect!" In embarrassed confusion, Terri reached for a garment on the bed to sheild her nakedness, turning involuntarily and shrinking into herself. She emitted an audible gasp of surprise.
"There's no need for the coy, little girl act, Terri... after all, I'm a woman, too ..."
"Y-You startled m-me!" She could feel the warm blush of her face and neck as she experienced a strange feeling of being devoured alive by the older woman's eyes. She shuddered delicately.
Then, the dress was abruptly removed from her hands and she was swung about to face the dress shop manager. The woman's eyes burned hotly into her own.
"You're absolutely ravishing," Pauline breathed, her tongue coming through her lips to move in a slow circular motion of sensuous caress.
Instinctively, Terri drew back, using hands and arms to retain her innate modesty to shield herself, even from another woman's gaze. "P-Please ... Pauline ... I'd like to get dressed now ... if we're through with the audition ..."
"The audition is finished ... you'll be good as a model," Pauline affirmed. "But I'm not finished with you!"
"What do y-you want... with me ... ?"
"You! Your body ... your love!"
"I - I could never d-do that!"
"You could never do what, my dear? Make love with a woman?"
Terri turned her head, trying desperately to break the almost hypnotic eye contact with the older woman. "Y-Yes ..." she whispered, "I'm married ... and my husband ..."
"Husbands! Men!" Pauline hissed, "What do they know about love? What do they know about what really turns a woman on?"
"I-I just...c-couldn't..."
"How do you know, my dear? How will you ever know what real ecstasy is ... until you've tried it... in the arms of a real woman lover... a woman who knows all about you, because she's a woman herself?" Pauline reached out and placed a gentle, soft hand on Terri's breast, allowing her fingers to teasingly trace the swelling contour.
Unaccountably, Terri felt a sudden, surging warmth begin to pervade her body, seeming to have its epicenter in her abdomen, its tingling sensations signing a prelude to forbidden pleasures, but her brain, the seat of reason, censored the lubricious, sexually oriented signals, telling her: No! Get away! There is danger here."
She swept the tantalizing hand away. "No! It's getting late! I - I must go home ... m - my hus-"
"Screw your husband!" Pauline spat, her lips twisted with obvious hate.
Terri had never heard a woman use such an obscenity before. The shock of it sliced through her. She flushed even more crimson. Her lower jaw dropped. Her eyes widened.
Seeing her reaction, Pauline pursued, "I was married at one time... just as you are now ... and I see myself, all over again, in you ... And what does the beast do for you? I can guess! Not even caring that you might not want it... whether you're ready or not... and then he leaves you to worry about the possibility of pregnancy while the son-of-a-bitch goes to sleep ... and you lie there - not having gotten anything out of it... oh, I know! You call that love? I call it plain animal!"
Shocked truth stared Terri in the face. Oh, God! How did Pauline know all of this? It was almost as though the woman was clairvoyant... or had stood a silent observor at her bedside! The truth was too sharp pointed. It hurt!
Shakily, her knees relaxed, her legs could no longer support her weight and she sat down suddenly, heavily, on the bed, a wailing sob of despair wracking her body as quick, hot tears trickled down her cheeks. Soft, female arms were around her, and Pauline's voice came to her through the pounding in her head.
"It's all right, baby ... it's all right... it'll be good for you ... cry it all away ..." the older woman crooned, holding the girl in her arms and rocking back and forth.
Terri turned away, crawling off to be alone, curling herself into a fetal ball in the middle of the huge bed, her head cradled in her arms, as the huge sobs born of frustration, heartbreak and shame tore through her lust body.
Pauline hesitated but a moment. She knew that now was the time, the time to offer the heartbroken girl the something else that only she could provide at that moment. She smiled sardonically to herself. It had been easier even than she had anticipated. The poor girl had been more ready, more receptive than any she had seduced before! God! She was hot! It had been all she could do to control herself, allow herself to keep on talking when she had wanted direct action ... but words - she told herself - had paid off... again. Without undue haste, she began to remove her own clothing, standing at last to remove the black panties over the svelte contours of her hips and thighs.
Her hands roamed over her own body, assuring herself of her own desirability. She shuddered delicately with the slashing, wildfire sensations that were being generated within her. "Oh, lovely ..." she breathed to herself as her nerve-ends sang, zinging for joy, the anticipation of coming pleasures almost more than she could bear. Again, she whispered to herself, making an unconscious alliteration, "Oh, the lovely loveliness of lesbian love!" At that moment, she considered herself to be a very happy woman, a woman in love with love ... and another woman.
At first, Terri couldn't believe what was happening to her. She was aware that Pauline was on the bed with her, next to her; then, she felt the cool hands on her, running down her back to the waist and down over her hips, repeatedly, soothing her. The extreme gentleness felt so good, so restful... so tingly and nice ... so different from the harsh grapplings of her bestial husband!
Now, she felt the electric contact as the older woman curled her body tight against her, the small, pointed bosoms pressing against her back. Terri lay still, her sobbing decreasing, until finally it stopped and she was fully aware of what was happening to her. Perhaps not fully aware, but conscious that what was happening was good - that is, it made her body feel good - but her mind was stepping in again, with its reason, reasoning with her on a rational basis. Don't! This is wrong! Don't do it!
Her cry was muffled, strangled in her throat, "N-no ... please ... don't! I - I can't... I just c-can'tdoit!"
"Hush, darling," Pauline chided huskily in her ear, "let me show you how."
The older, more experienced woman turned the girl to face her, clamping her slender body to Terri's, her mouth seeking and finding the tear-salted and lipstick smeared lips, pressing them in a passionate kiss, her tongue working out, slowly, gradually, to run in sensuous circles, rimming her lips with sensation-producing lubricity; meanwhile, her hands busily tantalizing her body, swarming over the luscious contours like a swarm of hungry insects, transmitting her own great need, the while setting up uncontrollable fires that began to leap and dance in the loins of the love-starved young love goddess of the silver screen. ... And, Terri began to respond. Unaccountably, to herself, she began to feel a certain thrill of her own generated by the femaleness of the other woman's body. Tentatively, she put forth a timid hand to feel the smooth, velvet flesh of the other. She felt a shudder pass through Pauline's body and she realized that she had been the cause of it. The other's sigh of pleasure confirmed it.
Their mouths were welded together, now, tongues moving in and out, hungrily, hands busy on each other's bodies; Pauline with sure knowledge, Terri experimenting, exploring here and there and the fires in their bodies raged higher and higher. Now, Terri moaned with a desire she could not control. It was a moan of helplessness, of utter despair, and she tried once more to fight against this sin. She broke the moist contact of their lips, muttering across the short intervening space.
"I've ... I've never been ... untrue to - to m-my husband ..."
"What's that... ? Untrue to your husband? He's a man! Do you think he's worrying about that when he climbs on some other woman? And, you don't think, even for an instant, that he hasn't been doing just that, ... do you?"
Terri could not be sure. On reflection, she realized she knew very little of what her husband did. "I - I don't know."
"Anyway," Pauline went on, "it's not the same ... it's not as if another man was making love to you!"
"But... the principle ..."
" - principle!" Pauline shot out. "This is female to female love! There's a difference!"
Almost savagely, the older woman then recaptured Terri's mouth, her upper leg moving between the white tapering thighs.
Reaching over, Pauline pulled the rounded fullness of Teri's hips in tight, then moved her hand down to stroke the soft, yielding secret places ...
Then Terri felt her woman lover move, slithering down her body, rolling her gently to her back, her mouth busy as she kissed her breasts. The forbidden sensations raced through the younger woman, flashing through her nerve ends with lightning speed to stab into her with lightning speed. Uncontrollably, her hips began to twist into the bed in steady rhythm, and she knew that she was lost.
"Oh, God!" she moaned, helplessly. Now, she felt the hungrily teasing lips moving down, down over her ribs, her belly, the agile tongue swirling... she was aware that Pauline had placed herself between her legs and that hands moved on the smooth, softly velvet skin of her inner thighs, and those same hands caressed and tantalized at the same time as they worked in that secret place.
She had a disquieting thought. Somehow, she knew in that instant she would be changed, transformed, that the act she wanted ... even though she knew in her rational mind that it was wrong ...would be a turning point in her life. Would she become the kind of woman Pauline was? Lesbianism was supposed to be shameful, degrading ... dirty!
That probing, licking, tantalizing tongue was sending the most wonderful sensations to her brain, and Terri knew that there was never in this world, or the next, for that matter, a more rhapsodic ecstasy, but her puritan mind interfered again. She cried out, "No! NOOOoo! Oh, God, no!"
The mouth paused for an instant, words came to her. She heard, yet did not hear. Her senses reeled. It was Pauline's voice that spoke, "Relax, baby doll... and enjoy it!"
"Oh, God! It's wrong! Wrong!" Terri screamed.
"But you like it, don't you?" Pauline countered and dropped her mouth again to the pulsing flesh. Terri could stand it no longer. Oh, God! She had to have it! She must have it! If she didn't, she would go mad with frustration and wanting!
Throwing all reason to the winds, conscious only of the crashing heat lightning that grounded her naked loins, Terri cried out in anguish of unfulfilled sex.
"Oh, God! Yesss! Please ... !"
The mouth paused. "What do you want, baby? You want me to keep this up ... until you climax?" Pauline queried.
"Yes! OOooh, yes!"
"I've got a better idea, honey... let's do it together!"
"H-how?" Terri was desperate.
"You've actually never done anything like this before?"
"No ... n-never!"
"Now's the time to learn! You just do to me what I've been doing to you! That's what real love is all about!"
Swiftly, expertly then, Pauline shifted her position. Never, in her entire life, would Terri have believed that she would ever find herself in this situation. Oh, God ... how had she gotten into this? Her first impulse was to scream, she felt suffocated, trapped ... but the contact of the older woman's burning tongue elicited a long moan of sexual surrender from deep in her chest.
Together, they began to mount higher and higher toward the heights of orgasmic release, as tongues slashed and licked, hands grasped and caressed, hips thrashed and mouths gasped and little mewls and groans of mutual joy.
Terri found herself mouthing lewd words. "OOooh! It's so good! Don't stop! Don't ever stop! Oh, Pauline..."
Dimly, she heard the muffled counterpart groan and moan with lust. Thus, intertwined, mutually giving and receiving, the two women came to the apogee of sexual climax. Terri felt it begin in the long, shuddering convulsions of her body, the long-awaited release causing her body to jerk spasmodically as wave after breaking wave of welcome release spread through her body-mind, a symphonic rhapsody of sensations seeping over her, leaving her satiated and relaxed. She did recognize that it was her own voice screaming, "AAAaagghhh! Oh, God! It's happening... !" While above her, Pauline's voice came to her as from a great distance, announcing the arrival of her own ecstatic moment. "Oh! Oh! Ooooohhh! It's almost here! Ooooohhh!"
Pauline collapsed, rolling over to stretch out beside Terri, clasping her desperately to her and clamping her mouth to Terri's in a long drawn-out passionate kiss as the last of the tiny convulsive waves of orgasm was drained from them.
"Oh, God! That was lovely ... lovely!" Pauline gasped.
Terri could only moan in half-conscious agreement.
Then the older woman's voice, emotion-laden, came to her, "I love, Terri! Oh, God! How I love you!"
Terri didn't know how to answer; she loved her husband. How could she respond? How tell another woman she loved her? Terri didn't know ... couldn't know. Mutely, she offered her lips to this strange woman, again, clasping, clinging ... confused ... but sexually satiated. Her ideas of sexual satisfaction, as it turned out were as nothing compared to the greed that was the only word for it, she decided - of her lover, Pauline. After a very few minutes, her employer had risen from the bed, delved into a drawer and returned with a vibrator which she plugged into an outlet. The device itself, she strapped to the back of her hand. Smiling down at Terri, she said, "... and now, my dear, I'm going to give you a massage."
"Mmmm, that'll be nice," Terri murmured. "Nicer than you think!" It was nice! It was not until the vibrator began to work over her stomach that she began to have any inkling of how the vibrator worked ... of the effect it would have on her. Then, Pauline moved it skillfully downward, expertly manipulating the mechanical aid to love.
"Oh, my God!" Terri moaned as she came to another soaring climax within minutes, and she felt herself completely helpless to stop the action ... or her reaction.
Now Pauline showed Terri how to hold the vibrator so that she could do the same thing for her employer. Depravedly, Terry did as she was bidden. She could never have explained it to herself, but for the first time in her life she had tasted, experienced ... become a sexual woman, a woman who knew that she could come to orgasm easily and often.
It was only after utter exhaustion had forbidden further activity that they stopped, by mutual consent. Terri dressed, repaired her makeup and hair and drove directly home. She had no idea how many times she had to orgasm. Was it thirty? Forty? She had lost count as the time passed... as she floated - it seemed - from one rhapsodic peak to another ... and yet another, even more exquisite, more beautiful. Now, all she wanted was a bath ... and heavenly sleep, a sleep that she knew would be dreamless and restful.
Time had flown. It was after five in the afternoon when she parked her car in the garage and walked languidly into the house, heading directly for the stairs. Her foot was on the second tread when the telephone rang. She was about to ignore the imperious ringing, but decided against it. It might be George. They were to dine out this evening... perhaps she would have to meet him, if he had been delayed, at the studio.
She picked up the telephone. It barked at her. "Where in hell have you been?" It was George, "I've been trying to raise you for over twenty minutes!"
"Sorry, darling..." she said, perturbed because of his obvious anger, "I was out... and j-just came in ... "
"I know! I tried earlier, also!" he gruffed.
Again she murmured, "Sorry ... darling."
"I'm at the airport... L A. International. My flight will be leaving in ten minutes. I decided to call you to let you know. I'll return on Monday, in the afternoon ..."
Her heart soared. She wouldn't have George around the house for the weekend. Almost three whole days without him! The perverse thought startled her. Why should she be glad that her husband would be gone from her? With her new found knowledge of herself, she knew that now she would be able to respond to him ... be a real wife ... a loving wife ... even a sexy one!
"I'm sorry you have to leave on s-such short notice ..." she lied, then, woman-like, "Do you have everything you need? Handkerchiefs? Socks...?"
"Yes!" he answered, irritated by the mothering, "You know I keep a packed bag at the studio ... for this kind of emergency!"
"Where?"
"On location... there's some kind of difficulty ... picture they're shooting in Colorado. The director has walked out. They want me to look at it, perhaps take over the rest of the picture. I hear them calling my flight, darling, I must go ... " The line went dead as he hung up abruptly.
"Have a good trip," she said absently into the dead phone, her mind working, trying to decide what she would do with her time. Pauline had told her that she would not have to come in to begin her modeling job until Monday. It was now late Friday afternoon! Wonderful! It was just wonderful!
Close behind her, Peter Marklin's voice was loud in her ear, "What gives ... the old man off on a trip, or something?"
She turned, startled, "Y-Yes... he just called. He's off to Colorado, he said ..."
"Groovy!" the teen-ager remarked to no one in particular, "Groovy ..." he repeated.
Terri agreed. Yes! Groovy! She said it to herself; With a light heart she mounted the stairs to her room, heading for that refreshing bath and a beautiful nap before dinner.
She undressed, feeling the exquisite tiredness engendered by the multiple orgasms she had experienced. The memory of the scene in Pauline's bedroom, fresh with new knowledge of self, loaded with implications of more to come, caused her to feel a flush of rising desire. Putting on a thin wrapper, she strolled to the French windows that looked out on the large expanse of front lawn and garden. There below, on his knees, Jack Chavez labored to remove the stubborn stump of a small tree that Marklin had ordered him to destroy and then replace with a more attractive evergreen, a Japanese black pine. The play of sunlight on the brown, sweat-glistening skin, the supple muscles rippling as he worked held her attention. There was a certain beauty, an animalistic magnetism in the flowing movements of the man ... almost, she thought, there was an aura of animal masculinity, of a sexuality exuding from him, a sexuality that she knew would be at the same time savage and sublime. She didn't know how it was she knew it, but it was there in her mind, the knowledge waiting to be tapped.
Turning away, she went into the bathroom to draw her bath. She wondered what kind of lovers they were, Chicanos. The thought intrigued her, but she quickly rejected it. She just couldn't imagine herself in the arms of another man but her husband. A horrible thought... but of course she had never dreamed that she would ever find herself in the arms of another woman, either!
What was the gardener's name? Chavez, Jack Chavez, she remembered. She had not paid much attention to him, before. He was just there. He had been merely an adjunct of the estate. Suddenly, he had become visible to her. He was a man! He was a beautiful, sexy man! She blushed. She had better banish such thoughts from her mind. Not that she was prejudiced against Mexican-Americans, but he was, after all, their gardener. It was just impossible. That sort of thing was for somebody else ... but not for Terri Marklin. Anyway, she had no intention of being unfaithful to George: at least, she told herself, it would never be with a man. Somehow, in her own mind, it was different with Pauline. What they had done that afternoon together had been ... well, a sort of mutual masturbation. It was not the same as if she had lain with another man in bed. That would have been marital infidelity of the most flagrant sort. She would never do that! George's jealous nature ... and his threat to her was enough to give her pause.
Jack Chavez had gotten a fleeting glimpse of Terri as she turned away from the window. He had noted her late arrival and wondered about it. Of course, it was really none of his business. There was something about her serene countenance that attracted his attention, though. It was the face of a sexually satisfied woman. He was sure that's what it was!
"Damn!" he had muttered to himself, "She's gone and got herself laid ... sure as hell!"
And it couldn't have been her husband. Of that he was sure, also. There was a glimmer of hope in the back of his mind. Maybe, if she's playing around ... getting it somewhere in the middle of the day, he reasoned ... maybe ... just maybe ... the thought was half formed.
"Hell! How does a "Mex" like me get a woman like her into bed ... unless she's dragged there? There's no way, man. No way!"
His silent soliloquy was interrupted by Peter Marklin who walked up to where he was working.
"Chavez," he said, "my father just called from the airport... he's going to be out of town for the weekend. He left a message ... said for you to take tomorrow off."
Jack was confused. "Your dad said for me to grub out this stump ..."
"Like forget it! It'll still be there Monday!"
"Is that going to be a day off without pay, or with pay?" Jack asked worriedly.
"You'll get paid, don't worry."
"All right, then ... I'll wait til Monday to finish," the dark gardener assured him.
"Groovy," young Marklin told him, "Groovy." He turned and sauntered back into the house with careless ease.
The gardener watched him go, wiped the sweat from his glistening forehead and said under his breath, "Little bastard! Trying to be the big boss while his old man's gone!"
Inside the house, another such scene was enacted; this time with the part-time housekeeper, a large raw-boned woman of Scandinavian extraction and indeterminate age.
"Yah... O. K.," she told Peter, "I don't come in on Saturday, anyway ..."
"Hey, that's groovy, too!" Peter said, "Everything's just real groovy."
A confused Greta watched him go. "Young people," she groused, "Who can understand them, these days?"
Peter Marklin went into his own room. He had a few more preparations to make. God! This was it. Now was the time! He couldn't waste any of it! A whole weekend alone in the house with
Chapter Four
Waking from her nap, Terri felt completely refreshed and rejuvenated, her whole body singing of good heath and well-being. She felt wonderful, wonderful and happy as she stretched, luxuriously, on the huge bed.
She was hungry. That morning she had had only a bite of breakfast; she couldn't eat for worry about the debt to the Continental. Then lunch had been skipped, because there had been no time to eat while she had been with Pauline. Again, the memory of that brought a rosy flush to her cheeks. Was it possible that it all had happened?
Dining out was out of the question tonight, she decided, since her husband was out of town. She wondered if he had cancelled their dinner reservations, decided finally that he surely would have done so as soon as he knew he would be leaving town. She put it out of her thoughts. Never mind, perhaps there were some leftovers in the kitchen. She knew that the frugal Greta was always putting away little bits his young stepmother! Gro-o-o-o-o-vy. of this and that. At least, she would not go hungry: if necessary, she would send out for something prosaic such as pizza. That was an idea. She felt like she could eat a whole pizza by herself. I
Soon, Terri was dressed comfortably and went downstairs. She found Peter in the living room in front of the color television set. He had purposely placed himself there so that he would be sure to see her when she came downstairs. Glancing up, he smiled at her with his ever-present, "Groovy!"
"Are you hungry, Peter?" she asked. "I was just thinking about a big pizza!"
"Groovy man!" he agreed, "with beer!" "Mmmm. Make mine coffee." "I'd even consent to go out and get it..." this from Peter, amiably.
"No need to ... we can have it delivered. I'll perk up some coffee in the kitchen." "And I'll check on the beer!" he said. Terri ordered the pizza, made the coffee and when the sizzling-hot pizza arrived they ate ravenously. Their conversation was light, relaxed, and Terri found herself enjoying the company of her stepson. It seemed that some of the barriers had been bridged.
Peter leaned back, finally satisfied. "Groovy," he said, "I'd dig some of that coffee now."
"All right..." Terri was on her feet heading for the kitchen, carrying a clean cup for him. "Cream or sugar?" "Black, please."
It was time. Quickly, he broke the hidden capsule over her cup, stiring the crystals as they dissolved in the amber coffee. He sat back again, heaving an inward sigh. It was done! Now it was only a matter of time, time for the drug to take effect, and he, Peter, would be in complete control... complete control!
Later, exactly how much later she didn't know, Terri Marklin awoke with a splitting headache. She remembered ... she had become terribly sleepy, had actually gone to sleep because she couldn't keep her eyes open. Why, she had sprawled right across the dining room table, powerless to get up and go to her own bed. Drugged? Had she been drugged? But who ... ? Peter was there! Peter! Could it have been Peter? Why? She was all confused, her mind was not yet working clearly. This is crazy! You only see these things in grade B movie thrillers ... or read about them in detective novels. It doesn't happen to people in their own homes. Or does it?
Without opening her eyes, she was aware that she was on her own bed. Strangely, she was nude ... and her arms were held ... her wrists were fastened in some way so that her arms were stretched over her head.
She opened her eyes with an effort, focused them on the face that was leering down at her.
Peter! Her instinctive, involuntary scream was stifled even before it was formed in her throat.
A hand was clamped cruelly over her half-open mouth.
"Don't scream!" Peter hissed, "If you do, I'll have to put a gag on you! It's up to you!"
Terri struggled for a moment, found it useless and subsided and lay back on the pillow. She didn't want to be gagged. Maybe ... maybe if she could talk ... she might be able to reason with him. Yes, that was it. She would talk to him, and find out what he intended to do with her ... to her, and, perhaps, try to talk him out of it. The terrifying thought crossed her mind that... that he was going to rape her. Rape? Oh, God! Not that! Not Peter! Peter?
Peter's voice, "Do you promise not to scream?"
She moved her head up and down in positive affirmation. He took his hand away from her mouth and she expelled a great breath.
"Peter?"
"Yes, Peter! Your own stepson!" he sneered. "Like they say in those old melodramas, oh, hah, now I have you in my power!" He rubbed his hands, mimicking the villain, and made a sneering grimace.
"Peter! Be serious!"
"I am serious!" he barked. "I've never been more serious in my life."
"Stop playing games ... a-and let me go!"
"Not yet!"
"W-What do you want... ?"
"You, stepmother, I want you!"
"Wh-what do you m-mean?" she wailed.
"Just that! I want you all to myself, your body just for me ... all for me!"
"That would be rape, Peter."
"Oh, smart!"
"You'll be caught... a-and punished. You'll be put in jail!"
"Maybe!"
"It's insane. S-Stop it right now ... and I'll forget about what you've d-done... not tell your father, or the police ..." she bargained.
"No way!" he snapped. "I've already gone this far... now, I go for broke ... all or nothing!"
Tears started in her eyes. Her position seemed to be absolutely hopeless. She glanced at her right wrist. There was a leather cuff el on it with a stout rope attached. The rope was tied securely to the bedpost. The other wrist was likewise imprisoned. "Ooohh, my God! My God!" she moaned.
"He won't be able to help you, either," Peter grunted.
"P-Please, I beg you ... "
"There's already been too much talking, baby! Now, it's time to groove. Like you know, groovy! Man!"
Her stepson was still fully clothed, but now he began to undress himself. Casually, he removed his shirt, undershirt, trousers, shoes, socks, and finally his undershorts. She averted her eyes from the sight of his obscene nakedness.
His eyes had been on her all the while he was undressing, watching her, measuring her reaction.
Terri's eyes widened. She tried to keep looking away, but his voice commanded her, "Look here, baby! And it's all for you!"
"I-I'll never ... l-let you do it t-to m-me!"
His uproarious laughter filled the bedroom. Between fits of sniggering glee, he told her, "You don't have much choice!" Then, getting himself under control, he went on " ... but, just to make sure, I've got a little something for you!"
Producing a paper shopping bag from the floor where he had placed it earlier, he delved into it, showing her a small, tightly-capped bottle. He smiled, "I've been planning this for a long time ... just waiting for the time when my old man was going to be away for a long weekend. Man, this's going to be groovy! You know what's in this bottle?"
Terri shook her head. "No ..." she admitted weakly.
"It's an aphrodisiac called Dhattura... from India. There's this friend of mine who was studying pharmacy - until he dropped out from dropping too much acid. Anyway, he found this old formula and mixed it up ... He hooked the stuff to make it out of his old man's drugstore ... same as he hooked the chloral hydrate ..."
"D-Dhattura ... chloral hydrate ... ?" The words were strange to her.
"Yeah, you know ... the stuff I gave you to knock you out."
Suddenly, at least one thing was clear to her. "I-In my coffee ... ?"
"Yeah," he affirmed. "And this stuff..." he held up the bottle, "will make you as hot as a mink!"
"Drugs! Do you h-have to do everything ... w-with drugs?" "No ... but they help!" He removed the cork from the bottle and came to the side of the bed. Leering down at her, he croaked, "You're going to drink this!"
"No!" she cried, "NOO!"
"Oh, you'd rather be persuaded ..." he sat down on the bed, reached again into the paper bag, scribbled in the bottom and came up with a small, paper-wrapped package. She knew what it was instantly. A single-edge razor blade. Unwrapping it, he held the flat deadly-sharp thing between his thumb and forefinger. The madness gleamed in his eyes as he leaned toward her. "Where would you suggest I start?"
Horror gripped her. Instant tears started into her eyes as they widened with terror. "Oh, my God! My God ... No!"
The tiny blade in his hand came down toward the mound of her right breast. It touched her skin, he dragged it lightly in a small circle. It was a mere surface scratch, but the blood welled from the inch-long incision, the droplets running down the swelling whiteness as she looked down with the startling realization that he had actually drawn blood ... and that his next move might mutilate her forever. She had never felt so utterly helpless, so defenseless ... so alone and terror-stricken! Oh, God! She didn't want to be cut! The searing pain of it came slashing through her numbed senses. She looked down at the blade in his hand, poised. With a deep sigh of resignation, she whispered, "I - I'll drink it... "
"Good!" he growled, then, "That's groovy!" He held the neck of the bottle to her lips. She drank, not caring, not tasting. The vision of possible mutilation was too strong. Ugh!
The thought came to her as she drank the somewhat bitter, fiery liquid that slid easily down her throat: she had heard it... or had she read it in some popular magazine: she couldn't remember. Then it came to her, she had read: There is no known substance that is truly an aphrodisiac. It is only a matter of belief! No matter, then. Whatever it was she was drinking from the bottle, it couldn't possibly have the effect Peter had described. "Like a mink ..." he had said. She was consoled by the affirmative words of the magazine article. The liquid would not do anything to her... except perhaps it might be a slight intoxicant.
Peter held the bottle to her lips until the last drop was drained. He gloated down at her. "Now, we'll just wait for awhile ... until it begins to work!"
Boldly, she said, "It'll never work!"
"We'll see, baby! We'll see!"
"I know it won't work. I read an article ..."
He laughed. "Don't believe everything you read! I've already experimented with this stuff ... I gave some to a sweet young virgin last week ..." he stopped, remembering the scene, reliving it in his mind. "She was on her back for eight solid hours. There was a jump line ... she took on about twenty-five guys! I had her five times, myself!"
"Ugh! How horrible!"
"It was groovy, man. Like groovy! She had it every way possible ... and still wanted more." Now, some doubts began to assail her. Was it possible? Oh, God! She hoped it was not. Maybe Peter was lying ... telling her these things just to make her believe that the liquid he had forced on her would make her do those things, too! He could be using a sort of psychological persuasion ... and his language ... he was saying those vile things for their salacious effect.
That was it! He was only trying to make her believe, that he had given her a powerful aphrodisiac.
Again, her step-son rummaged in the shopping bag. This time he came up with a small tin. She recognized it as a container for cough drops. He opened the lid and selected a tightly rolled tube of brown wheat-straw paper. Tearing a match from a matchbook, he carefully lit the homemade cigarette. The pungently sweet smoke drifted to her, and she watched with fascination as he drew the smoke deep into his lungs, holding his breath for several moments before he exhaled.
She knew that it was not tobacco. It must be - God, it had to be - marijuana. He was going to get stoned on marijuana, himself!
He smiled down at her, a tenuous, almost tender smile. "Care for a drag on this roach?"
Terri grimaced, "God, no!"
"No, I guess you wouldn't... the Dhattura's enough ..."
Languidly, he pulled his legs up and crossed them under him; his eyes closed. He sat upright, silent and immobile.
How long he sat that way, Terri couldn't estimate. Additionally, she realized, she had no way of knowing how long she had been unconscious... or how long she had been trussed up on her bed. She twisted her head to look toward the double French windows. The drapes were closed. She could not see out. Straining her hearing sense, she listened for the sounds of traffic on the boulevard. There were only the sounds of cars passing, intermittently, muffled, as from a great distance, and far away she heard the wail of a siren. She decided that it must be well past midnight and that there was a heavy fog lying over the city.
She watched her step-son as he smoked, his eyes closed, his face slack. He held the narcotic cigarette between thumb and forefinger, the burning ash turned in to the palm of his hand, the hand and arm coming slowly up to place the cigarette carefully between his lips. There was the long, slow drag of inhalation, the long, interminable moments of held breath, and finally the slow, controlled exhalation of the grey smoke.
What, she asked herself, was he thinking? What was going on inside this mixed up boy? ... and, most of all, she wondered why he was holding her prisoner... with intentions of raping her? Why? WHY? Her only hope, perhaps, would lie in the possibility of talking him out of it... but that had been unsuccessful, so far. She shuddered again at the memory of the razor blade and his threat to mutilate her. Looking down, she saw that the wound he had made was closing, the thin line of blood drying to a dark, almost black color. It didn't hurt, now, but she was grateful that it was only a superficial scratch. Had she not agreed to drink that awful stuff, what would he have done? But, what about the liquid in the bottle? Dhattura, he had called it. What if it really were everything he said it was? The graphic image of his description raced through her mind. He said, "I gave some to a sweet young virgin last week ... she made love for eight hours!"
Then, unexplainably, she felt it begin in her, the first tiny, keening tingle in her loins like a small spark of warmth, seeming to spread, permeating her whole belly. She remembered reading a description of the small spark from a passing motorist's cigarette that had started a huge forest fire, a fire that destroyed thousands of acres of prime timber land. Oh, God! Don't let this be like that tiny spark! ... But, relentlessly and against her will the heat grew in her. What could it be? She didn't really believe the bunkum about a drug of any kind being able to overcome the morally instilled beliefs of a person.
And, yet... and yet, oh God, she was beginning to feel something ... something foreign and totally alien to her way of thinking. "Will you be good if I untie you?" he asked. "Y-yes," she groaned, relieved at the thought he would release her hands. Quickly, she said again, "Y-Yes, yes, I promise!" she said eagerly. He leaned over her then, kneeling up and sliding forward on his knees as he worked to untie the knotted ropes. Her hands were free now, the cufflets removed, and she rubbed at her wrists to restore circulation in them.
Peter returned to his former position, kneeling between her thighs, pressuring them wide apart with his knees. He grunted with satisfaction as she offered no resistance.
Actually, Terri felt the fires of her passion being stoked higher and higher, and she remembered how it had been with Pauline. Pauline ... her woman-lover had paid court to every area of her body, all of her had been involved in their Lesbian love-making. She needed that now. Indeed, she wanted it!
Unconsciously, narcissistically, her hands crept to her own breasts, caressing them as her hips moved upward to Peter, offering him all of her to do with as he chose.
Her elbows pressed in tight against her ribs and her head flailed crazily from side to side, out of control, as he descended on her.
Terri groaned, the husky, muted sound coming from deep in her throat. She felt her hips flexing and moving of their own volition, and heard the mewling, animal-like sounds that came, unbidden, from between her passion -clenched teeth.
She just couldn't believe that it was happening to her. She just couldn't! What was left of her rational mind told her it was so. She was actually responding to her own step-son ... wanting him to go on and on!
Peter smiled a smile of triumph. He had done what he set out to do! His stepmother who had loathed and hated him was lying there, squirming under him. He had wanted her ever since his father had married her! Goddamn that old man! He didn't know anything about sex! Peter knew well enough that his father always left Terri unsatisfied. He had listened and watched ... watched, as later, she had gone into the privacy of her bathroom to gain sexual release with her hand. It was a sad thing to behold ... a woman like this.
But she had scorned him! That had stung him. He knew he had more to offer her. God! He loved her ... wanted her, but she couldn't, wouldn't allow him to get near her; after all, there wasn't that much difference in their ages.
He was young, strong and virile and his staying power, he knew, was tremendous, especially when he was on pot. This was the new generation. He knew that drugs were the answer to everything in the world. If people would turn on to drugs, everybody would be too busy loving to fight wars. God! Life was beautiful, and grass and hash helped to make it beautiful!
Her mewling groans of pleasure drove him faster. Good, he wanted her to beg him for it!
He grinned to himself. This was only the beginning. There was most of the weekend ahead of them. He intended to make the most of it. He was going to take her every possible way that there was!
He knew that she was too far gone ... too aroused to fight against him now. He could do anything to her. His mind began to form erotic scenes, pictures, vivid and alive of all the acts he would perform on her naked body. It was wild and groovy. He had a good imagination.
Peter could not help gloating to himself as, suddenly, her hands were clawing at him, pulling him closer. Through drug-dimmed eyes, Terri could vaguely see the face hovering over her. His words were only unintelligible sounds pouring from his twisted lips. At that point in time, the only realities were the animalistic ones of sensation and feeling below.
Oh, God! This need would drive her insane! Then, the flashing thought of the great irony involved in her wanting the son instead of the father intruded. She realized that she had never felt this way before. George had never made her want it like this! It was Pauline who had, unknowingly, prepared her for this. Yes! Pauline, her woman-lover, had made her want a man more than ever before.
Appalled at the thought, she tried to reject it, but in perturbed panic her hands found their way between them, searching for the thing she wanted.
Peter had been waiting for just such action on her part. Her overt reaching to claim him pleased him no end! This was it!
"Oh, Peter!" she cried, her voice hoarse with emotion.
This is it! This is the time! He flicked his hips forward, driving with all his strength.
Terri winced with pain. The agony of his entry shocked her for a long moment.
"AAAaaagh!" she screamed, "Oh, Goddd!"
Peter reveled in her scream. He thrust again, harder, listening for the moan of anguish to follow. He suddenly wanted to hear her scream ... scream for mercy!
Flickering dimly in the back of his brain was an image of his father doing the same thing to her, and momentarily there was an understanding of his father.
"Peter! Oh, God! No! NOOOooo! Please!" she choked out, her naked white body pinned helplessly to the mattress. Oh, God, she couldn't stand it!
Her stepson's outstretched arms pinioned her, while his widespread knees held her thighs immobile. Peter gaped down at her from his dominant position with a lewd smirk on his lips. He was elated, and he grinned even more widely as he saw her face twist in a grimace, her lips curling back from her teeth as pleading, incoherent whimpers came from deep in her throat. Her arms were outstretched, the palms of her hands against his hips.
Through his own drug-fogged senses, he knew that he had won ... he had conquered her, as he held her pinned down in that lewd, humiliating position. By God, her moans were tapering off... he believed she was actually beginning to enjoy it now!
"Oh!" Terri whimpered, her mouth ovalling, lighting still the thin hairline of sensation that barely divided pain from pleasure.
"OOooohhh!" she cried, holding her breath. He watched as her nostrils flared and her throat began to work with little mewling sounds of pleasure that joined in cadence with the tempo he had set.
"Oh, Oh, OOh, OOOoooh!" she purred. Then, "OOOOooooh, yes! Yes, Peter ... darling! Yessss!"
Now, he lowered his lips to hers and kissed her open mouth, thrusting his tongue deep to savor the sweetness there, and her whole body began to come to life under him. With sudden and complete wantonness, she plunged her tongue deep into his throat. Low, passionate mewls of servile acceptance emitted from her throat, her beautiful face twisted with erotic anticipation as her neck strained and a light sweat broke out in tiny droplets on her forehead. Her blonde hair was disheveled as her head moved as on oiled hinges from side to side and her unseeing eyes rolled, unfocused, in her head. In a near unconscious state, her hips began to roll and buck. Peter was forced to clench his teeth and call on all his power of self-control to maintain himself immobile above her for just a little while longer. Wait! Not yet!
There was no pain now. There was only sensate, rapurous pleasure. She had never known that it could be like this. Her whole body was coming to life; a maddening tingle had seemed to burst into being deep within her. The raw nerve-ends of her vibrant flesh were electric with the supercharged perceptivity of sensual carnality.
Now! Now is the time! Peter gloated.
He hissed through clenched teeth at her. "You want it now ... don't you?"
"Yes! OOOooh, yes!" she groaned without hesitation.
"Little stepmother," he leered, "do you remember how you turned me down ... before?"
"Y-Yes, but I... I thought you ... "
"You thought I wasn't good enough for you!" he finished.
"N-No ... that's not it... you ..." she tried again, then, "Please, Peter ... oh, God, you've teased me enough..."
"Beg, bitch!" he barked, "I want to hear you beg me!"
Terri, even at that moment, in wanton and abandoned rapture, agonizingly anticipating the ecstasy of fulfillment, at last, in a sex act that was more than she had ever expected, could not comprehend what it was he wanted. He wanted her to beg him to finish making love to her? Never! Her brain, temporarily short-circuited, rebelled. No! She couldn't do that..". she could not bring herself to say it to her own husband's son!
She shut her eyes, and a groan of frustration escaped her lips. Her whole being, body and mind, recoiled at the command he had given her, but she had not reckoned that by now it was her body that was ruling her. Yes, her body had been swayed, for a moment, by her brain; however, the sensations in her loins continued to send their overpowering desperate messages. Her whole existence seemed to lie there. Tears welled in her eyes and ran down her exquisite cheeks.
"Beg! Goddamn it! Beg me, silly!" Peter snarled, digging his fingers into her flesh cruelly.
"Yes ... ! Yes, I'll beg ... Do it to me, P-Peter ... !"
"Not that way! Say it! Say: - me! Say it, damn you!"
Her voice broke with the effort to utter the obscene word, but she managed, "P-Peter, darling ... - me ... !"
Then, she babbled on incoherently, "Yes, oh, yes! I want you to! I want you to!" and the awful word burst from her lips over and over again.
True, she had heard words like these before, but she had never spoken them herself. George used them ... and she could not forget her shock when Pauline had mouthed the same obscenities. Now ... her own lips were dripping with the lewdness, and for the first time in her life. Somehow, there was a new lascivious thrill generated in her by the very sounds.
"You're learning," Peter said. He marveled at the utter abandon, the dazed, ecstatic and drug dimmed smile that played across her lips. God! She was more than he had thought she would be. Groovy! Like, Groovy, Man! Now, it was time to really show the bitch something. He wanted to completely bend her to his will... subjugate her, humiliate her, debase and demean her.
Terri felt her climax coming. She knew it in the sudden shuddering wave of convulsive muscle spasms, the slashing crash of overburdened nerve ends as they discharged their sensations into her mind. Her body jerked ... suddenly it was there for her! Oh, God! It's here at last! "Oh! Oh, Oh, oh! Aaaaaggghhh! Oh, darling, darling!" ... and with her last cry of passion her body began to quake uncontrollably, as wave after convulsive wave of delicious sexual release swept through her.
Peter waited, controlling his urge until she had groaned out the last of her release.
Beneath him, she shook her head; her mind had begun to clear and rational thoughts returned to dominate it. She became aware of her obscene and humiliating position under him. My God! She was helpless... she could not move in any direction. Now, she could begin to evaluate, to think somewhat clearly. My God! It must have been the drug, the drug he had given her. What had she done? Peter was raping her! And ... worse, she might even become pregnant from her own stepson! Oh, God! Help me! Please help me!
She groaned as the unsated Peter continued his brutal, pounding assault on her tender body. It was impossible to fight back ... her arms were pinned down ... she could only accept it... pray he would soon be finished with her ... until... suddenly ...
It wasn't possible! She couldn't believe it! She was reacting again ... wanting it to go on and on! Shooting sparks of passion were being generated all over, again, within her. She didn't care if he made her pregnant!
It was magnificent! She rose to receive his final plunges in an ecstasy she could never describe. The supreme heights of sexual rapture and fulfillment were hers, again. Then, Peter fell forward, full length on top of her, exhausted and satiated beyond his wildest dreams.
"Like, man! The most!" he said, and was soon fast asleep, the drugs and exhaustion having finally taken their toll of him.
Terri, also, slept a wonderfully serene sleep of complete sexual satiety. For the first time in her life a man had shown her what sex was all about! God! It was beautiful! ... But the young boy who slept beside her? He was her own stepson! Her own husband's son!
Chapter Five
Frank Coppol was holding his weekly council. There was much business to attend to, reports to be made and acted upon and money to be received and paid out.
He speared the speaker with his one good eye. "Johnny," he said, his voice soft as usual. He was unruffled. "Johnny, that's your territory those whores are operating in. What do you know about it, so far?"
Johnny Leonard, tall, sun-tanned and good looking, a man who could be mistaken for a television or a movie personality, was visibly nervous.
"Not much, Frank. It seems to be a small operation.... maybe five, six girls at the most," he reported.
"Who's the guy running it?"
Leonard hesitated, glancing around the room for help that was not there. Helplessly, he said, "I don't know..."
"Find out! Bring him in!" Frank Coppol issued his orders still in that soft voice.
"Right, Frank," Leonard said, looking down at the rug, "Right away!"
Coppol dismissed the problem as having been solved already. He looked around the room at the alert, expectant faces. It might have been a meeting of the board of an important financial corporation. There were twelve men present, all well-dressed and meticulously groomed. His good eye came to rest on another face. "Next item," he said briskly, "is Guido's report on that problem down at San Pedro. I'd like to know why there was a work stoppage, after we promised there wouldn't be any more?"
George Marklin was not in Colorado. He had merely gotten into his car and driven to Santa Monica where he had parked in a numbered stall in the carport of a well-appointed apartment house, got out, mounted the stairs, knocked at the door of apartment 2IB and was admitted by a svelte brunette who greeted him warmly, put a dry martini in his hand and didn't object when he suggested after a few minutes that they go into the bedroom.
"You're not busy tonight, are you?"
"No, George ... I cancelled out an all-night John when you called me," she answered, matter-of-factly.
"I'll make it up to you," he promised.
They were lying on her bed.
"How would you like to make a party of this?" he asked.
"Sure, honey ... anything you want," she agreed, "another girl... or another guy?"
"Another girl," he said, reaching for the bedside phone.
He dialed an unlisted number and soon a woman's voice came over the wire to him, "Hello?"
"Pauline? Is Gloria booked up tonight?"
In the bedroom of her lavish home in Brentwood, Pauline looked across the bed at the red-headed Gloria who lay sprawled naked beside her.
"Yes, she's busy," Pauline lied.
"Oh, I see ... I'm at Fran's ... can you send Barbara over here?"
Irritated, but not willing to show it, Pauline consulted a small book on the bedside table. "Barbara's busy ... but I'll try to get hold of Joan ... she's available."
George remembered Joan. Yes, she would do, he decided. "Send her over ... Fran's - Olivewood Towers, 2IB," he said. "I know the address!" Pauline said testily.
"Of course."
"Is that all, Mr. Marklin?"
"Give my regards to Gloria."
The line went dead in her hands and Pauline slammed the receiver down. "That S O.B.!" she seethed, "Someday, he'll go too far!"
"What's wrong, darling?" Gloria asked.
"That was George! He's always wanting to sample the wares! The bastard! Some day, I'll figure out a way of getting back at him!" Pauline fumed.
"Don't worry, baby," the redhead soothed, "Come back here to me... I'm getting all cooled off ... "
Pauline smiled, relaxing, "How could I forget?" she said.
It was not really the work that had to be done, Jack Chavez finally admitted to himself. Sure, there were the tender, bedding plants in the greenhouse on the Marklin estate that needed to be watered. They wouldn't dry out before Monday, but it wasn't zealousness for his work - although he did take a measure of pride in it - that seemed to draw him, beacon-like to his place of employment; rather, it was his employer's wife. It was her body, that vision of blonde female loveliness that drew him hypnotically. He had to see her! She had been in Ids mind all night long.
It was easy to find prostitutes in L A. But that was not enough, anymore, for him. Mrs. Terri Marklin would still be there, in his mind. He couldn't shake it! He had to see her! ... But he was not supposed to work this Saturday. At about 8:30 he drove down the boulevard toward the Marklin estate. Parking his battered pick-up truck several blocks east of the sprawling grounds, he walked casually along the sidewalk, turning into the long drive that led up to the large mansion. Everything was quiet. No one stirred about the place. Actually, that was normal. Mrs. Marklin was a notoriously late riser usually getting out of bed well after her husband had gone off to his work at the studio.
He left the drive and walked noiselessly in the grass, skirting wide to avoid observation from the house itself.
"Damn!" he grunted to himself, "Anybody'd see me they'd think I was a burglar!"
Gaining the trellis from which he had climbed to the portico several times, he cautiously ascended, little by little, until he stood on the floor above, the double French windows only three paces away.
One thing he had decided: he did work on the estate, and that was in his favor if young Marklin accosted him. Those young plants in the greenhouse had to be watered today.
Jack listened. He heard nothing. The sweat stood out on his face, glistening in the sunlight. She must be sleeping, he decided. Good! He could wait, he had never watched her as she got up, first thing in the morning. This would be something new. Did she sleep nude? Fervently, he hoped that she did.
He moved, silently, to the place where he could look through the drapes. Kneeling as he had many times, he put his eye to the gap and looked into Terri's bedroom. She was sleeping ... but who was that on the bed beside her? Christ! It's the Marklin kid!
The coming of daylight had not awakened either Terri or Peter, exhaustion and the drugs had worked to induce a deep sleep, but when Terri did finally awaken to the new day, it was with the sudden realization that Peter Marklin, her step-son, was lying next to her, curled into a fetal ball; and next the memories flooded in on her now clear-headed mind. Peter had made love to her... and she had responded, making passionate love, saying things she had never said before in her life. Oh, God! What if George were to find out... ? What if he were to return early ... walk in and find them together?
Her mind raced. She had to get dressed and get Peter out of her bed ... out of her bedroom, and somehow, out of her life. This sort of thing couldn't continue! It was an impossible situation!
She sat up and slid her trim white legs over the edge of the mattress to the floor; then, she stood to look around the bedroom for a garment she could put on quickly. Glancing back apprehensively at the sleeping boy, she moved silently to her double dresser, opened a drawer and rummaged in it for a pair of panties.
Peter woke up; he was still slightly groggy from sleep and the after-effects of the marijuana. He sat up, saw Terri bending over the drawer and said, "Where in hell do you think you're going?"
Terri thought fast. "I thought you'd like to h - have something to eat," she lied.
"Looks more like you were trying to split!" he barked.
Leaping from the bed, he advanced upon her, eyes blazing with anger, "Like maybe you didn't keep your end of the bargain!"
"W - what do you m - mean?" she gasped, recognizing that she was in danger. She shot a glance at the bedroom door.
"You know ... like you promised not to run away if I untied you!" he said, stalking her now. "N-No!" she screamed, "No!" She bolted for the bedroom door. He was there, blocking the way, his hands grasping at her. She scuttled away from him, avoiding his lunge. She made for the French windows, unsnapping the night latch and jerking the glass door open to dash through it. Just as she stepped onto the portico, though, Peter caught her and pinioned her arms to her sides. He dragged her back into the bedroom.
Jack Chavez, just outside the French windows, jumped to his feet just as the door swung outward, concealing him from view. He had been a fascinated spectator of the action inside the bedroom. When Terri bolted for the door, his only thought had been for himself. He sure as hell didn't want to get caught looking in on them. It really was none of his business if she was banging her step-son while his father, her husband, was away.
The door remained ajar as Peter dragged her back toward the bed. Jack could see everything clearly. He was tempted to leave, yet drawn hypnotically to continue watching, not quite understanding, yet, the meaning of what he had so far seen and heard. He knew there were people who indulged in sadomasochistic sex acts, beating each other up to complete sexual arousal; sometimes they were tied up to do this, so he was not particularly perturbed at the mention of Terri's having been tied up and then released on her promise not to run away.
Couple of weirdos!
Peter wrestled his stepmother to the bed, his young, strong body easily overcoming her puny female strength. He flopped her face down on the bed and soon had the leather cufflets on her wrists, effectively immobilizing her. Breathing hard, he rose to his feet and looked down at her, "Like, listen to me, you little bitch," he grunted, "don't try that caper again!"
Terri was crying. She had not cried out during the scuffle. She was sure in her own mind that it would have been futile.
"PI - please, Peter," she pleaded, "h - haven't you done enough to me ... already?"
"Hardly!" he bit out, "The fun's just getting started!"
"Oh, God, P-Peter ... don't r-rape me... again!" she begged, her feeling of complete helplessness overwhelming her.
RAPE! Jack Chavez couldn't believe his ears. The little bastard had raped her? He had tied her up and raped her ... and now he was going to do the same thing again! This wasn't something Mrs. Marklin was doing because she wanted to ... she was being forced! But, what could he do? He was a voyeur, watching from a concealed place ... and he just happened to be watching at the wrong time! He couldn't call the cops ... wait, maybe he could ... make an anonymous call to headquarters, then get into his truck and beat it. That's it! Make the call and get the hell out of there. It sure wasn't any business of his. If he were caught anywhere near there, he might be suspect himself ... and if he barged into the bedroom to take some kind of action himself, the kid might try to shift the blame from himself to the Chicano ... the simple gardener!
Well, Jack Chavez wasn't that simple!
Whoever believed the gardener in these cases? It was time to get the hell out of there! Right now!
But his attention was caught by the struggling couple in the bedroom. In desperation, Terri bit the palm of Peter's hand! The blow resounded loud in the room. Peter had slapped her full in the face. "Slut!" he roared, leaping from the bed to gather up his trousers from the floor. He unthreaded his belt from the belt loops and doubled it in his hand.
Terri watched him in wide-eyed terror. "Ooooh, God! P-Peter ... Nooo!"
The boy stuffed a gag in her mouth, but just before her words were cut off, she managed to spit out, "Just like your father ..."
"Maybe!" His eyes were wild, insane.
The belt swished through the air to crack across the twin white mounds of her buttocks, leaving an ugly red welt.
Terri's body quivered, the searing pain slashing through her whole being. She screamed, but only a squeaking, muffled sound was released through the effective gag in her mouth.
Outside, on the portico, the gardener winced, experiencing the blow vicariously, his face screwing up into a grimace of concern for his employer's wife.
He groaned to himself, "The little S O.B. is a monster! A real weirdo!"
Peter's arm descended again, the loud whack coming clearly to Jack, and he could see the second stripe on that beautiful white female flesh. I can't let this go on!
Jack Chavez stepped through the French doors, angry and menacing with a righteous anger that boiled up white hot within his compact, muscular frame.
"Drop it, mister!" he said, his voice deadly but surprisingly soft.
The boy gaped, but recovered quickly, "Like, what the hell are you doing here, Chavez?"
"I'd like to ask you that same question!"
"You're trespassing, Mex! Like split! Get the hell out of here!"
"Love ... Peace ... and all that crap of yours," Jack taunted him, "Where is it now, man?" He advanced two more steps into the room.
Young Marklin was no coward. He moved forward, making a cut with his belt at Jack's face. The belt caught him across the cheek, opening a long slanting gash.
The gardener's fist lashed out, the blow striking Peter flush on the chin, rocking his head back, and his body crashed backward, the back of his neck at the base of the skull striking the edge of the double dresser as he went down. The sickening crunch of bone told Jack, instantly, that the boy was seriously injured. Man! I'm in it now ... I'm in it... !
He leaped across the room to kneel at the side of the fallen boy. His hand went out to feel for a pulse at the neck, but there was none and he put his ear to the young man's chest. He's dead. Stone dead. What do I do now?
He looked up at Terri where she lay stretched out on the bed, her wrists tied, the two raw welts startling red on her body, her eyes streaming tears, pleadingly, muffled sounds coming through the gag on her mouth; her sheer helplessness was obvious to him in the uncontrolled trembling of her limbs, and he knew that this had been no lover's game. It was for real! ... And the dead boy on the floor was very real and very, very dead!
In a daze, completely stunned at the turn of event that had brought him, unwillingly, into this situation, he rose, went to the bed and untied the ropes that bound her wrists.
Quickly, she sat up, ripped the gag from her mouth and screamed long and loud, hysterically. Jack sat down beside her and begged, "Please, Mrs. Marklin ... please settle down ... there's no more danger... please don't scream that way."
By degrees her heart-rending sobs subsided, and she threw her arms around the gardener. She felt safe, protected, in his sinewy arms. Softly, he crooned to her as he would a small child, comforting and reassuring her.
She was still nude, and for the first few minutes of her hysteria, Jack was hardly aware that she was in his arms. She was just another human being who needed comfort. Then, he began to realize that she was the luscious woman he had been watching in secret, the woman whose body he lusted after ... whom he wanted more than anything else in the world! Until this moment, she had been an unattainable dream, he had never thought he would ever hold her naked in his arms, like this, under these circumstances or any other way.
Now, she was calmer, she looked up into his face and saw the wound made by Peter's belt. She sat back, all practical woman, "We'll have to fix that."
"Later..." he agreed, aware of the throbbing heat of his body, "We'll have to do something about him ... first."
Terri looked down at Peter for the first time. She had not known until then how seriously he had been injured. She had thought he was merely knocked unconscious by Jack's blow. Now, she stared in open-mouthed, wide-eyed terror. "He's so - so s - still! Is he ... ?" she was unable to say it.
Jack finished it, "Yes, he's dead! The back of his head hit the dresser when he went down ... I hit him pretty hard ..."
"Oh, my God!" she screamed, "Peter!"
She fell back on the bed in a dead faint, the shock of it too much for her overtaxed emotions.
Breathing heavily, feeling the immense burden of his act and what he still must do, Jack went into the bathroom, soaked a small towel in cold water and returned to the unconscious girl on the bed. Tenderly, he bathed her face and neck and idly allowed his hands to roam, feeling the swell of her breasts and the curve of svelte hips and thighs. Unbidden, lust for her swept over him. It would be easy! She could be all mine! Then, with almost superhuman effort he thrust the temptation from him.
Young Marklin was dead. He supposed that made him a murderer, but he knew that his interference had been right. It was just cruel fate that the boy had died. It was an accident, he had certainly had no intention of killing the young man. He had only defended himself, but self-defense, he also knew, was a tricky thing in a California court. And being Chicano already registered one strike against him.
Terri was not yet coming out of her faint. He decided there were other things he must do. His mind raced. Peter's body couldn't be found here. He would have to take the corpse some other place ... make it look as though he had died accidentally.
With an effort, he withdrew his eyes and his hands from Terri.
Loathing his task, he carefully dressed the dead boy, picked him up and carried him downstairs to his own bedroom. He propped the boy in a chair, his mind busily conceiving a plan to use the young Marklin's own car to stage the accident.
The car was parked in the triple family garage, next to Terri's Jaguar. Opening the hood, he looked at the engine, grunted with satisfaction, and went to find a twig of the proper dimensions. He started the engine and placed the twig in the accelerator linkage, holding it open at near-maximum r p.m. It would work, he was satisfied. All he would have to do was reach in and pull the shift to drive and the car would surge forward. Now, he had to find a suitable site.
He re-entered the house to see whether Terri had come to her senses. It was necessary to explain his plan to her, she had to be a part of it, because he would need her help.
Terri was in the living room, dressed and dry-eyed. She came to meet him. "I - Is he really gone?"she asked.
Jack assured her solemnly that it was true. She sat down wearily, a sigh escaping from her lips. "It was an accident... wasn't it?"
"Yes, it was, Mrs. Marklin," he said sadly, "Now, we've got to make it look like the accident happened with his car."
"We ... ?"
"Yes ... we!" he said with determination, "I have to have your help ..."
Swiftly, he outlined what he planned to do. They were interrupted by the ringing of the telephone. Terri was startled, but Jack motioned to her that she should answer it.
"Hello ... ?"
Pauline's voice floated over the wire to her. "Terri... I want you to come down to the shop today ... about two-thirty!"
"But ... I - I don't understand ... you said ..." she began.
"I've changed my mind! It's important that I see you!" Pauline's voice was hard, decisive.
"Yes, of c-course, ... I'll be there," Terri murmured.
Hanging up the phone, she turned to Jack and said, "I have to go downtown ..."
"Drive Peter's car," Jack told her, "and meet me at the lake!"
Chapter Six
Her mind seething with unanswered questions, Terri drove to the Continental to see Pauline. She could think of no reason for the call demanding that she come down to the dress shop. The tone of voice Pauline had used bothered her, though. Her new employer had never sounded so angry before, but Terri's real worry was centered on Peter, Jack Chavez, and their need to dispose of her step-son's body. In a way, she decided, she was an accessory ... if the police ever got into the act. She had agreed to help Jack, he had explained to her how vulnerable his position would be... if they called the police and merely told them the truth; and additionally she had been convinced that it would be much better for her, too, if the rape story did not have to be told.
She had not yet sorted out the right and wrong of it. She was glad that Jack had come to her rescue, but she was bothered by a nagging doubt that what they were doing, were going to do, was somehow not exactly the right thing.
A startling thought struck her - would she be, in some way, bound to Jack Chavez now? He had not intimated anything like that, but she was sure that he had looked at her as only a man can look at a woman he desires! But that was impossible ... he was only their gardener, who had heard the commotion in her bedroom and had come to help her. Then, another revealing thought flashed through her mind. Jack had entered the room through the French windows, from the portico!
She wrestled with this new idea. He would have had to climb the trellis to get there. Had he done it before? Somehow, she guessed that he had. Why? The answer was obvious when she thought about it. He had been watching her in the privacy of her bedroom! That had to be it! Jack Chavez was a peeping torn, and he had been on the portico and seen Peter beating her. It all fit together like a jigsaw puzzle!
Terri was sitting in the living room of Pauline's plush apartment on the floor above her office. She was still puzzled as to why she had been summoned there on a Saturday afternoon. She had agreed to begin work on next Monday, as a model, to pay off her debt to the dress shop. Thus far Mrs. Riggs had said nothing to indicate the purpose of this meeting.
Pauline was speaking, "In view of the very large amount you owe me, I've decided that it must be paid back at a faster rate, Terri."
"I don't u - understand ..."
"The modeling fees will not be enough ... the owner wants his money fast!"
"I can't get it any faster ... y - you already know that..." Terri stumbled.
"Then, you'll have to get the money from your husband!"
"No!" Terri said with alarm, "I can't do that!"
"There is one other alternative," Pauline said, smoothly, "You could also entertain some men in one of my apartments ..."
"E-Entertain ... men?"
"Yes."
"You m - mean ... sex ... sexually?" the meaning began to dawn on her.
"Yes ... any kind of sex they may want!"
Terri gasped. "... But that's p - prostitution! rd be a ... a ... "
"Whore!" Pauline finished for her. "A very high-priced one, too!"
Standing up, Terri cried, "No! I - I'd rather face my husband than that!"
Pauline remained calm. "Sit down, Terri! I have another, stronger reason why you should cooperate ... Gloria!"
Terri was startled to see a beautiful red-haired woman, lightly clad in a see-through wrapper, her nude body undulating curvaceously under it as she crossed the room. She carried an automatic carrousel-type slide projector. Placing it on the low coffee table, ahe plugged in the power cord, sat down and said, "All ready, Pauline..."
Pauline nodded toward Terri, "Gloria, this is Terri..."
Gloria smirked, "Oh, yes, I recognized her." The redhead switched off the lights and turned on the slide projector.
Terri had been curious as to what this elaborate show was all about, but her curiosity turned to anguish as the first vivid color slide was projected on the opposite wall. Terri's own face loomed larger than life, her eyes closed, the passion of the moment etched plainly on her countenance as she embraced the svelte body of Pauline on Pauline's bed.
She "covered her eyes and moaned softly, blushing red, "Oh, no ... "
"You might as well watch the whole show!" Pauline snapped.
The next slide was even more graphic, depicting Terri in a very intimate position with her woman employer.
Terri sobbed, "M-my God ... h-how ... ?"
"Gloria!" Pauline said proudly, "She's an excellent photographer, wouldn't you say?"
The agony of watching the rest of the slides was almost more than Terri could bear, but finally it was ended, the lights snapped on. She could only sit slumped in her chair, beaten, defeated. Pauline, she realized, held the winning hand in those color slides; the pictures indicated plainly that she had enjoyed the lesbian interlude.
"Well... do you put that body of yours to work, or not?" the older woman demanded.
Terri hedged, "W-will you give me those h - horrible slides?"
"Yes, I'll let you have them ... when your debt is paid, but if you don't cooperate fully, I'll turn them over to your husband!"
"I - I don't seem to have m - much choice." Terri sobbed.
"No, you don't have any choice!" Pauline gloated.
"W-what do I have to do ... ?"
"Gloria will take you to the apartment... she'll explain things to you on the way over," the woman said.
Gloria drove expertly through the city traffic, chatting gaily as though Terri were an old girl friend.
"Actually, this is a pretty easy life," she explained, "All our Johns are business and professional people who do their thing in the afternoon ... before they go home. There isn't much night work ... that's up to you, if you want extra work, but all our regular dates are afternoon ... sometimes a few mornings. That's the beauty of Pauline's set-up ... nobody ever needs to know where you are ... or what you're doing, because it's all day work. Most of the girls are married." "You too?"
"Yes, but he's a louse ... I get my kicks with girls ... and make myself extra money on the side with the Johns," Gloria went on. "Johns? ..."
"They're the guys - the customers."
"Oh," Terri murmured, "I guess there's a lot I don't know..."
"You'll learn fast. I did!" Gloria assured her.
"Do you expect s - someone this afternoon?"
"Yes, two as a matter of fact."
"T-two?"
Gloria glanced sideways at her, "They're both actors," she furnished.
"Would I - I know them? Would they know me ... ?" Terri asked apprehensively.
"Maybe ... but you don't let on ... and neither will they."
They arrived at the apartment that was like many another in the city, each striving for some distinctive individuality, but still organized along the same plan. The inevitable swimming pool shimmered blue-green in the sunlight.
"Drink?" Gloria asked, when they were inside.
Terri drank alcohol rarely, but now she decided a drink - or perhaps two or three - would numb her enough to do what she had to do. My God! What had she gotten herself into? She was being forced to become a prostitute... a whore! God! She needed help. Never before had she felt so alone ... so scared. Gloria fixed martinis. The clear liquid went down smoothly and Terri tossed the first one off fast. She sipped the refill, waiting for the alcohol to work its magic on her brain, so she wouldn't have to feel, or think. It would be better that way.
The door chimes sounded. Gloria went to the door. "They're here," she said, "Put on your best party smile!"
The redhead opened the door to admit two well-dressed men who greeted her warmly, obviously well-acquainted with her as they both embraced her, patting her body suggestively. Gloria murmured something that Terri didn't catch as they came over to her to be introduced.
"... And who is this ravishing creature you've been hiding from us?" the taller of the two men asked. Terri recognized him immediately~as a popular movie leading man. His latest film was showing now in all the first-run theaters.
Gloria said, "Paul... may I present Terri? And Hal... Terri," Hal, she realized, played in a weekly TV show.
She acknowledged the introductions, marveling that the formal greeting was a mockery ... considering their reason for coming here. There must be some macabre humor to this, she thought, without being able to define it.
Finishing her second martini with them, she accepted a third and the room began to spin. She became gay and loose.
Once she caught Gloria's eyes in a warning that said to take it easy! But she was caught up in the fun as the conversation bubbled around her.
Finally Paul rose and led her into the bedroom. She felt dizzy, almost faint from the gin she had slugged down, and she knew that this was the moment she dreaded, the moment when she would become something else than a former starlet and housewife ... a respectable woman. In a few minutes she would join the list of women who engaged in the world's oldest profession. Oh, God! She didn't want to go through with it! How could she? She was throwing everything down the drain. She would become dissolute, depraved. She would lead the sordid, secret life of the prostitute. Could she even live with herself... after? Oh, Lord!
Paul took her in his strong arms and unzipped her dress all the way down the back, his hand trailing down to pull her body close in against his. She did not resist: that's why she was here. To entertain him! She smiled to herself... the word was a euphemism for something much more base. She was going to get laid for money,.. money she had already spent, represented by dresses, shoes and accessories in her closets. Was it worth it, now? She knew the answer instinctively, but her alcohol befogged brain would not let her examine it.
He had found her mouth and was kissing her long and hard, his tongue probing between her teeth and lips, tantalizingly. She moaned softly as he squeezed her, and then slipped the dress off her shoulders and let it slide down over her hips to the floor. Then he maneuvered her slip straps over her shoulders until the flimsy garment fell on top of her dress. Next, he dexterously unsnapped her bra, gazing hungrily at the fullness that was released from its cloth prison, to swing free.
Terri had momentarily forgotten the other man, Hal. As she stepped clear of her slip and dress, she was startled to see him seated on the edge of the king-size bed, completely nude. He had been enjoying her unwitting strip-tease. She straightened up and turned, her face flushing as she tried to cover her breasts with her arm.
Paul gently pulled her arm down and turned her about to face Hal, whose eyes gleamed with anticipation.
"Let's get her panties off!" he suggested, and the taller man quickly obliged, whipping them down over her hips before she could react. Dumbly, she stepped back to stand in shameful nakedness before the two men. Her back was toward Hal.
He whistled. "Christ! Who did that to you?" He was off the bed, his hands reaching out to trace the red welts across her creamy skin. She winced as he touched them.
Terri couldn't tell them how she came to have the wounds.
"Some ... j - John ... last night..." she lied, drawing on her new vocabularly to explain it.
"The son-of-a-bitch!" Hal snorted, "Some real weirdo!"
Paul stared, too. "How could a guy do that to a beautiful doll like you?"
"H - He tied me up," she whimpered.
"You don't have to worry about us," Hal assured her, "We just like it plain and simple..."
He moved her to the bed arid they sat down. He took her in his arms and kissed her, probing deeply again into her mouth with his tongue: then he pressed her back on the bed until she was lying beside him, his body pressed tightly against hers, his throbbing manhood trapped between their two bodies. She noticed that his silvery-blond hair was natural, and that a small lock of it strayed boyishly over his forehead.
Now, Paul stretched out on the other side of her. She felt his nudity as his warm muscular body pressed up against her back, yet she could hardly believe that all this was really happening to her. What was left of her reasoning mind tried to sort things out. She was so hopelessly trapped now that she could find no way out.
As she lay on her back now in the center of the big bed, between the two nude, virile men, their hands began to roam over her body and she felt both their mouths, kissing her soft skin.
"It's all right, Terri," Paul whispered in her ear, "Hal and I often work together like this. We know how to arouse a woman ... the right way." His mouth captured hers again, his tongue searching...
They did know ... and the spark of passion ignited by their lips and hands was being fanned into glowing life with each passing second. She couldn't resist the flashing fire that began to flame through her loins. Pressing her legs close together, she tried to deny the heightening desire that seared her lower body. If she had to do this thing, and do it she must - she was convinced of that - there was no reason why she had to enjoy it. Whores, she had often heard, didn't really become involved with their customers. They only did the act for money, a purely business transaction.
But she groaned under their tender, tantalizing ministrations and suddenly she found herself reaching up with her hands to caress one of them ... she barely knew which was which now ... they were all just hands, tongues, arms, legs ... tangled and touching ... rubbing lewdly against each other's aroused flesh ... and she knew that she could not keep herself from reacting, from becoming involved with her dual lovers ... or from enjoying these two virile men at this moment. It shocked her, but she could not help herself. She had hoped from joining actively in this sordid situation. Why were both men giving her all their attention, anyway? Where was Gloria? Wasn't she supposed to be part of this action, too?
Oh, God! She was getting all warm and moist... she was responding to them against her will! She couldn't let them subdue her completely like this! Oh, Oooh, their tongues are driving me crazy!
The very wickedness of having two men at once excited her almost beyond belief, and they were bringing her closer and closer to the desired level of desire. She was becoming a blazing inferno of passion.
She could stand it no longer. Even though they had bought her body, she had to have them ... had to have them both! Suddenly, she heaved her hips up off the bed and moaned, "Oh! OOooh! Yes! Yes! Yesss!"
Hal looked down at her, his eyes smiling. "Yes... what?" he teased, "You know the words!"
Terri remembered the things Peter had wanted her to say. Did men need it? Was it something they needed to build their egos ... to debase a woman by insisting that she ask for sex ... using the crudest word possible? All right! She would ask; she would beg... she would use those vile words!
Her voice was unreal to her as she choked them out... but they understood what she was asking for.
"All right, baby! You'll get it... but good!" Hal promised. And as both men bent over her twisting body she felt herself slipping into insane pleasure as the crashing sensations within her loins built to mammoth waves of rapturous desire. She knew that it was only a matter of minutes until she would explode into orgasmic frenzy, yet neither of them had touched her yet in the conventional way ... she knew both men were ready ... Oh, God! How she wanted them now!
Then suddenly, disappointingly, the two men were exchanging places, their bodies sliding along her body, one on either side. She had wanted Hal... wanted him to start it... she felt frustrated, for the moment, as though they were only teasing her! Why didn't they get on with it? Dimly, she knew that she was involved, now, as much as she could be. She had lost that fight!
Her next sensation drew a delicious sigh from her, as she felt Paul's hand touching her secret, inner femininity. Meanwhile, Hal was kissing her, his tongue probing deep into her throat. She liked it, liked Hal, liked the way his hands moved caressingly over her body. She took his tongue fully into her mouth and sucked on it. It was all so maddening ... so tantalizing ... her ecstasy was building to the breaking point. She began to imagine that she was a huge, impregnable, concrete dam, behind which was impounded millions of tons of green water ... and the dam was about to break!
Paul slid his hands under Terri's body, opening her to him, then, he moved into position over her.
"Oooooh," she moaned, "Now! Please ... now!"
Her words were like a spur to him. Flexing his hips, he entered her, slowly at first, then with increasing drive and pressure.
Terri's mouth worked with the rapture of her passion. She felt every manipulation of Paul below; while above, Hal's mouth and hands were driving her insane, and uncontrollably, she moved her breasts against the hard muscles of his chest and her arms went around him, pulling him close to her, her taloned fingers tearing and scratching at his back.
Within her, every fibre of her being responded to the two men, the fires building in-her loins roaring out of control, consuming her, goading her to complete submission.
Her breath came deeply, her eyes began to glaze as the sensations in her loins became unendurable, unquenchable except in soaring orgasm.
Hal shifted his body on the bed and she opened her eyes to see him kneeling over her, straddling her. Oh, dear God! He wanted to make love to her, too ... they were going to share her between them! Dear God! What is he going to make me do?
In spite of her own lust, she tried to turn her head aside, but he held it firm in his hand and continued to press forward, crooning to her in a low voice to open her mouth.
"Oh, God, no!" she squealed, "I've never..."
"Every good whore does it... how come you-?"
"I'm not a - a whore," she sobbed.
"Then what the hell am I paying you for?"
Oh, I forgot! I forgot why I'm here! I am a whore, now. I'm a whore... a whore, a whore! God, how can I ever live with myself again, after this?
"All right!" she groaned, "I'm a whore ... but this is the f - first t - time ..."
"So you do what I tell you, OK?"
Something smooth and strange brushed against her lips, and she opened them, reluctantly, her eyes tightly clenched shut.
She began to move against the two of them, matching her body rhythm to theirs as they buffeted her helpless form between them. God, she was doing it... giving herself to two men at one time! Again the thought crossed her mind - where was Gloria? She could not have guessed. The soft click of the camera shutter as Gloria recorded the progressively lewd action on the bed would not have been heard or recognized by the dazed girl. Gloria was following orders given her by Pauline Riggs, and of course the redhead always did what Pauline demanded; she was a slave to the agile tongue that Pauline used to send her to rapturous heights of ecstasy and to keep her submissive to her will.
Now, to Terri, the mounting ecstasy at the very core of her being began to explode within her. She could feel the coming orgasm. It wouldn't be long now! Soon! Soon!
She was helpless, out of control, when it did come to her, soaringly. All three came together, within seconds of each other; the two men greedily clutching her to them, rubbing, massaging and smoothing her with their hands, boring into her... until at last, slowly, they released her, the peaks of their orgasms subsiding and their virile members pulsing less and less, and they rolled their bodies away from her at almost the same moment.
Paul leaned backwards, as he moved to lie alongside her again, and said, "I've had some good ones in my time ... but baby, you're the most!"
Hal moved to her other side and groaned, "Christ! I'm turned inside out!" His hand trailed, languidly, across the contours of her body.
She was too overcome to speak. She had a wonderful experience. Never, in her wildest dreams, would she have thought that she would have intercourse with two men at the same time.
Then, in the midst of her joy, the bitter memory flooded back. She was not here primarily to satisfy herself, but to entertain; she was the courtesan, the prostitute... the WHORE! She was now a full-fledged whore! Unbidden, a tear trailed down her cheek. She rubbed it away with the back of her hand and neither one of the men noticed it.
Paul and Hal lit cigarettes and smoked, relaxed and amiable. After a few moments they arose and began dressing. Terri lay on the bed, naked and alone. She felt a chill and pulled a sheet over her lush body.
Hal took out his wallet and began to extract money.
"Terri, baby," he said, "You try harder ... you ought to be worth a little more!" He exhanged glances with Paul as he handed Terri a fifty-dollar bill. Numbly, she took it, not even looking at it, as Paul matched Hal, placing another fifty on the first.
Paul looked down at her and smiled, "I'd like to spend a night with you ... sometime soon. O K.?"
"All right..." she answered.
"Damn! You beat me to it, Paul!" Hal interjected, "But I'm greedy ... I want her for a whole weekend!"
Terri smiled, wanly, "All right... whenever you say ... but I'll have to ... m - make arrangements ... in advance ..." she lied, not having the vaguest idea of how she could possibly get away from George for a weekend of debauchery.
Both men kissed her a tender goodbye, leaving her on the bed with the two fifty-dollar bills clutched in her hand. When they were gone, she looked dumbly at the money and burst into great sobs of sorrow ... a sorrow so profound that words could not possibly describe her misery.
Gloria came into the bedroom after the men had gone. She saw two fifties. "You understand, don't you, Terri, that this is a fifty percent split?"
Terri nodded and extended her hand. Gloria extracted one of the bills and said, casually, "There's a couple more Johns due in about twenty minutes ... so rustle your tail and get yourself ready for them!"
"... But I thought..."
"That was all for today?" Gloria laughed.
"Hardly! After that, there'll be two more... beyond that I'm not sure, although Pauline could be sending some more, later... "
"You ... ?"
"I'll take my share, from now on ... unless there are others who want two for one, like Paul and Hal," she explained.
"Are there m - many like that... ?"
"A few. Then there are those guys who want two women! There's more of that kind ... they sometimes like to watch while the two gals do it to each other... things like that," the redhead told her matter-of-factly.
"Oh... ?" Teri questioned, "Can I-I have another martini?"
"Sure ... if you think it'll help."
"It will!" Terri assured her.
"But just take it easy! Guys don't like it with a sloppy drunk woman!"
"I just don't want to feel," Terri. said miserably.
"Check!" Gloria said, her eyes gleaming. "I understand ... maybe we ... you and I... could have our own little party ... after."
Chapter Seven
Teni never knew how she was able to get through the remainder of the afternoon and the early evening hours. Through a self-imposed alcoholic haze, she dimly remembered a long succession of men. She was taken by at least four more men, mostly nearing middle-age, obviously successful, somewhat wealthy, somewhat well-dressed, neat, clean, but running to slight paunch and flabbiness. All were married, disillusioned and disenchanted with their wives, and were looking for stimulating sex and lost youth. Her feeling of complete debasement and worthlessness grew steadily.
It was 7:30 before she could leave the apartment with Gloria, who drove her back to the Continental to pick up Peter's car. She wasn't able to leave sooner, because the lovely redhead had made good on her earlier hint of a private lesbian party after the last John had departed.
Terri had been too tired, too emotionally drained to object, but when Gloria's tantalizing tongue had driven her up the walls, she had exploded in a phantasm of orgiastic excess. She had responded in kind, the redhead guiding her, teaching her how to arouse another woman and bring her to ecstatic heights.
On the drive through town, Terri's senses began to return as the effects of the gin began to wear off. She was cold sober as she began her drive on the freeway, eastward toward San Bernadino in Peter's car. There was one more rendezvous she must make. Jack Chavez was waiting for her. Then, cynically, the thought flashed across her mind: I - I suppose he'll want me to make love to him, too, after we ... she couldn't make herself think further about their grisly task.
But the other thought went on: I'll never be the same ... after today. I've been changed ... changed into a whore in one day! It's impossible. I'd never have believed it!
The hundred and thirty dollars in her purse was real enough. She would have to believe it. That's what she had taken away with her from Gloria's apartment.
But, Jack ... he's a man who has killed ... who killed trying to protect me from the very thing I've just been doing... for money ... except that none of them wanted to whip me, for kicks. C - could I let him do it to me, too, make love to me? Oh, God! I don't know! I owe him something ... Peter could have hurt me badly ... disfigured me ... or maimed me! And I am grateful to Jack! He didn't intend to hurt Peter... only tried to make him stop hurting me. Oh! I'm so mixed up ... I don't know what to think ... about anything!
Following Jack's directions, she turned off the freeway at the Cal Poly campus and followed the winding grades northward towards the lake. She drove carefully and slowly, keeping a sharp watch for the old battered truck that the gardener drove. She found it parked just off the road to one of the locked entrances to the recreation area. She parked behind the pickup, and Jack detached himself from the dark tree shadows and came over to the car, on the alert for anything amiss.
He leaned down and asked softly, "Anybody follow you?"
"Wh-why, no! I don't think so!"
"Good! Follow me to a place I found."
He was gone, striding away to clamber into the pickup. The motor roared and then he eased it back onto the road and drove ahead for about half a mile. There he parked again and waited for her.
Terri got out, her heart pounding.
Jack peered inside the car with a small flashlight. "Leave anything of yours in here?" he asked.
"N-No ..." Terri checked to make sure she had her purse.
Then, she watched in fascination as he re-started the car and maneuvered it until it pointed in the direction he wanted.
He wiped the car for fingerprints, then he rummaged in the back of the pickup under cover of some old branches and lifted out the blanket-wrapped body of Peter Marklin, her step-son. He unwrapped the corpse and placed it in the driver's seat of Peter's own car. Covering his hand with a cloth, he started the engine, opened the hood, placed a sugar cube so that it would dissolve in the water in the accelerator linkage, closed the hood and returned to the driver's side. He fastened the safety belt around the body, released the emergency brake and slammed the door.
Peter looked quite natural, Terri decided. She turned and walked toward Jack's truck, her eyes blinded by quick tears. It has to be for the best! Oh, God! It has to be!
Jack reached through the car window and yanked the shift lever into drive. The car's wheels spun as it kicked up gravel and then shot forward, suddenly arching out into space. There was a mighty splash, followed by eerie stillness. Jack walked to the cliff edge and looked over to make sure. The car containing Peter's body had disappeared.
Terri's sudden ear-splitting scream speared into the blackness.
"Ooooohh! Peter!"
He held her as great sobs of sorrow and relief wracked her body.
"Mrs. Marklin! Be quiet! Somebody might hear," he warned.
She paid no attention, and the desperate man did the only thing he knew to do. He slapped her hard in the face, commanding, "Shut up!"
Shocked, she cringed away from him, a hand going to her cheek in disbelief. Then she turned and fled blindly into the darkness.
He caught her within ten paces and pinioned her arms to her side, from behind. She struggled silently, only grunting, but her strength was nothing compared to his, and he held her tight and whispered urgently into her ear, "Stop it! We've got to get the hell out of here ... right now! If we're caught... they'll pin a murder rap on both of us!"
Murder!
Oh, God. She slumped back in his arms, drained and helpless, then turned within the circle of his arms to face him ... he had bulging muscles... the arms of a strong, virile man ... the arms of a man who had killed ... for her.
He murdered Peter for me.
A primeval lust was suddenly rising in her ... a desire to give herself to this man. At that moment there was nothing she wanted more ... and the knowledge was frightening. She whimpered deep in her throat, an animal-like groan that defied interpretation. She moved her hips, rotating them, against him. She raised her head, lips parted, in mute and universal signal... offering her lips to be kissed, and by inference her body to be used. The undulating hips made it specific ... she wanted him!
Jack was shocked, but pleased. Her signals were not wasted on him. She wants it! Christ, I never thought this could happen to me ... I'm her gardener ... and she's a movie star ... a rich woman. But not now! Man! Not now! We've got to get the hell out of here.' Now! Now, God damn it... first things first!
Brusquely, firmly, he spoke to her. "We've got to get in my truck and go, now! While we're riding along ... you can think this over... change your mind if you want to. If you do, I'll understand ... and no apologies ... we go our own ways ... O K.?"
He meant every word.
Dumbly, she allowed him to help her into the passenger seat of his old pick-up. He took the blanket and made a few passes at the tire tracks in the gravel. Satisfied, they would be hard to see, he got into the truck and kicked the ancient motor into life. Then, carefully staying within the speed limit, he drove back to the freeway, turned east toward the grape vineyards, finally turning on a lateral road connecting to the old highway south, thence to a dirt track that led deep into one of extensive vineyards he knew well from working there in his childhood days. He pulled to a stop, turned out the lights and sat back, a great sigh escaping from him.
"Well, it's done," he said, "but it's only a matter of time... a few days, maybe a week, before he's found."
Faltering, she asked, "Wh - what will you do ... n - now?"
"He was pensive for a moment. "I don't know, yet... but in a few days I think I will leave L A. There's nobody ... nothing to keep me here."
"D-dyou you have to ... to run ... away ...?"
"No! I don't have to ... but it might be best if I do... the police are going to ask questions ... I think I'll be hard to find ..." he explained.
"Jack..." she spoke his name softly, "I haven't changed my mind." Her hand crept out to find his thigh.
The pressure of her hand on his trembling body was almost more than he could take, he was so excited.
"I'll get a blanket... from the back," he said thickly, not trusting his voice.
She moved her hand reluctantly, surprised at her own boldness in initiating the sexual stimulation, opened the door and stepped down onto the sandy soil of the vineyard. She heard Jack rummaging around in the truck. Then he found the blanket, shook it, and spread it on the ground a few feet away, among the heavy-leafed vines.
Terri stood, thoughtfully, watching him. She had gone this far, she decided, therefore she might as well go the whole way. She would do everything she could to make this good for him. Then, $he realized she'd never felt that way before ... sex had never been very enjoyable for her, in the past - especially with her husband, George - but her new found eroticism and the extended knowledge forced upon her in such a short space of time ... and a self-knowledge that burned, searingly, into her brain, led her to the decision she had just made. She would make love to this man, bound to her by a macabre twist of fate; she would do it wildly, wantonly, with everything she had, offering him the whole of her for their mutual enjoyment. The lewd salaciousness of her thoughts began to tingle through her as she remembered the feel of his hard muscular thigh.
Leaning back against the fender, she removed her shoes and stockings, then reaching back, she unzipped her dress and stepped out of it; her slip followed and she stood in her panties and bra. She hesitated a moment before deciding that she would offer herself completely naked. The effect on him would be more stimulating, and he had already peeped at her in the privacy of her bedroom. She unsnapped her bra and removed it, freeing her voluptuous breasts to the cool evening breeze. Then she wriggled out of her flimsy white panties and added them to the pile of her clothing on the truck fender.
Jack got to his feet after smoothing the blanket. This can't be happening to me! Pretty soon I'll wake up and find out it was all a dream ... a poor man's hopeless dream!
He looked up and gasped for pure joy. God! She was standing there completely nude. She had meant it. She would be his ... she was, symbolically, offering herself to him.
Playing her new role of complete wanton, she walked toward him across the loamy sand. She held her head aloft, her eyes looking at him steadily as her hands came upto cup her breasts in provocative sexuality.
Jack watched her, marveling again at the vision of pure loveliness, remembering how he had watched her before, with only a wishful hope. Now, the hope was reality and his whole body throbbed with desire for her.
Swiftly, he stripped off his shirt, his sun-bronzed muscles ripping. Then, he loosened his belt and unzipped his pants, shrugging them down over his well-muscled legs. He kicked off his shoes and socks. Something held him back, however, from removing his shorts. Was it modesty, or a desire that it should be she who removed them? If she did it, it would be the final signal to him that she really intended to go through with it.
He stood, lean and powerful, waiting for her. He had made up his mind that he would not touch her first, It had to be her show!
In pristine, unashamed nakedness, she stepped on the blanket and took the final step to stand before him. She looked up into his face and said softly, "Here I-I am ... "
His strong arms went round her as she leaned in tight to his hard body and tilted her head up, her mouth opening slightly and her moist lips inviting his kiss. He tilted his head down and captured her soft, red lips. His kiss was hard, meaningful, and he was surprised when her bold, searching tongue slipped out to encircle his lips, then burst through his teeth, probingly, asking to be sucked. Her tongue was like a writhing, coiling snake in his mouth. He gasped with the power of the sensations generated in him. Below, his masculinity leaped into massive hardness.
Terri felt him through the cloth of his shorts.
She broke the kiss, knelt on the blanket, reached up to his waist and pulled the shorts down, gasping, "Oh!"
He grinned in the darkness, pleased with his attributes.
With trembling fingers she reached out to touch him gently.
Jack, standing above her, could not wait; he put a hand on either side of her head and moved his hips forward. Involuntarily, her lips rounded and her mouth opened. The delicious tormenting touch was too much for Jack. He moved his hips back several inches.
"That's enough of that ... for a while!" he breathed hoarsely.
"All right," she smiled and lay back on the blanket, knees up.
Jack's breath sucked in sharply, from the sudden excitement that leaped in him at the obscene position she had taken. She leaned back on her elbows looking up at him: her lips were wet and parted in a provocative little smile of shameless anticipation, and her roundly firm breasts rose and fell with her own sexual excitement.
He fell to his knees before the open gates of her shrine.
"I used to dream about this ..." he told her, "after I'd watched you ... in your bedroom ..."
"Y - You watched me?" she pretended shock.
"Yes!" He reached out to spread her wider, and she moaned, audibly.
"N - Now you've got the real thing," she breathed, "So please... go on and do it, Jack ... I'm so hot!"
With a rapidly expelled sigh of pleasure, followed by a gutteral, throaty noise, he moved forward to her hot, throbbing moistness.
"Ooooh!" she groaned, "That feels so gooooooood!"
Her pleasure-sounds came from her throat incessantly and he, too, grunted aloud with the sharp, sweet, almost painful sensation. He raised his head to look down on her and watch her squirm with delight at his smooth strokes that were plowing all before him ... driving ... driving deeper ... causing her teeth to clench and her face to contort with the urgency of her need and the intensity of her delight.
Terri began to squeal and moan, incessantly, under him as her head and hips tossed from side to side in unison.
On and on and on... their heaving bodies now soaked with sweat as they rocked together, locked as one ... on the sandy ground that was firm under the blanket.
"Oh! Oh, God!" she began to chant, "I'm almost there ... I'm going to ... Oh, Gooooooddddd!"
She lunged wildly, her hips bucking, and finally, she was there, awash in the surf of her passions from which she swam, gaspingly, giddy from the pressure of the depths.
Then, suddenly, as she screamed out her climax, Jack felt it begin for him. It surged from him in a burning stream ... his breath had come ever faster to him as they labored together; now, with a loud groan of intense pleasure, he heaved her up off the ground with the terrific force of his final thrust.
Her body convulsed spasmodically, as wave after wave of her orgasm passed over her until at last, with a sigh of complete satisfaction, Terri crawled up beside him to smother his lips with her own before she collapsed and snuggled her body again into his strong, encircling arms.
They rested: they may even have slept for a few minutes in their satisfaction with each other. When she could speak, she murmured in his ear. "Why don't we go back to my house ... ? There's nobody there ... won't be until late Monday afternoon."
Unhesitantly, the gardener, so enthralled, so taken with his new lover, agreed. "All right... a bed'11 sure be a lot more comfortable than this rocky ground!"
"You'll stay with me through the night?" "Will I stay - just try to stop me from it!" he said, the vision of himself occupying that big bed in her plush bedroom with her beside him, beautiful, blonde and sexy, almost blotting out his reasoning mind, completely. But love is blind - so it is said - and justice, too, is not depicted as blind for nothing! And Jack Chavez's love for Terri was unreasoning ... and blind!
Chapter Eight
Johnny Leonard had all the information he needed. Acting on Frank Coppo's orders, he decided the time had arrived to make his move against the new prostitution ring operating in Coppol territory - a ring that was not paying off to Frank, and that was one of the things people just did not do to Frank.
Sunday morning, at a late brunch, Johnny issued his orders: Bring them all in, today. They'd meet with Frank at 4:00 in the afternoon!
"How about the Johns?" a heavyweight type asked him.
"Send them on their way ... just bring in the girls ... and the guy who's running it!" Johnny told them, "You've got the names and addresses."
Jack and Terri had made a night of it. They had returned to her home, gone directly to her bedroom and copulated, neither of them thinking or caring of anything but sex. Jack had taken her three times more before dawn, then they both slept a sweet sleep of sheer exhaustion.
Awakening about noon, Terri had looked over at his sleeping form, his nude, muscled body, so tan, contrasting sharply with her own white loveliness ... She had reached out to caress him, and he awoke and she was suddenly enveloped in his strong arms again.
"Don't you ever get enough?" he asked her with a grin.
"No," she said, "It's still like a new toy ... "
"That's no toy," he grinned, pointing downward.
Later, satiated and hungry now, they showered and dressed, went to the kitchen where she made coffee and they snacked from Greta's well-stocked refrigerator.
They were sitting at the kitchen table over a second cup of coffee. Jack had just lit a cigarette when the fat man walked in the back door.
Jack started to rise from his chair, startled, "What the ... ?"
A second man entered and stood behind him.
"Sit back down," he ordered, "quiet-like .., and nobody gets hurt. We just want the girl, Buddy!"
Terri screamed, and the fat man slapped her once, hard, across the face. Cold steel against Jack's back persuaded him not to interfere, this time.
"Get your purse," the fat man told her, "or whatever you need. You're going to have a talk with Frank."
"F-Frank? ... Frank ... w-who?" she asked, cringing away from him, not wanting to be hurt again.
"Frank Coppol!" he grunted, "Frank don't like people holding out on him."
"I-I don't understand ..."
"You will!" the second man snapped, "All working whores pay off to Frank... or they don't work at all!"
"And some of them can't work again, after we get finished," the fat man said, his face folding up in a smile at his own cruel humor, "Take the John out and put him in his car ... send him on his way with our regards!" he finished.
The situation was, instantly, crystal clear to Jack. As the gun in his back prodded him to his feet, he looked at Terri with cold fury. "Just let me get my wallet," he said.
"OK - but careful like," the man behind him warned.
Jack took out his last twenty dollar bill and tossed it on the table, his voice was steely. "I can't pay your full price, but I never took anything for nothing in my life!"
Terri recoiled. He might as well have struck her.
"Oh, Jack ..." she sobbed, her eyes scalding with quick tears, "Y-You don't understand!"
"I understand!" he snapped and strode from the room.
"Jack!" she screamed.
SMACK!
"Shut up!" the fat man snapped, "Pick up your money ... and let's go."
Terri could only obey, as, silently now and completely cowed, she did as the fat man bid her.
Oh, God! What have I done? What have I done?
"They're all here now," Johnny Leonard reported.
The girls were led in one by one to be seated before Frank Coppol, who sat back, relaxed, behind his big desk, the surface of which was polished to a high gloss. Everything in the room reflected good taste with no expense spared.
There was Pauline Riggs, sullen, haughty; Gloria put on an amused smile; then there came Barbara, Joan, Marie and Francine, who were frightened, pale, sobbing. Last to be brought in was Terri. Pauline Riggs gasped, audibly, when she saw her, "Oh, my God!"
Terri ignored her, but her eyes clashed momentarily with Gloria's. Gloria smiled somewhat wanly and said, "Welcome to the sorority."
They had all been escorted separately into the big office, having been held in individual rooms until all were present. Now, the door opened again and George Marklin was escorted into the room by two guards. He saw Terri. His face paled, eyes widening and mouth gaping open.
"Terri," he croaked, "What are you doing here?"
George could not have been more surprised than was his wife. The room spun around her, but her faint was short-lived as someone put a glass of brandy to her lips and forced her to sip its reviving warmth.
Frank Coppol watched with easy amusement, spearing each of them with his good eye, missing nothing.
"All right," he said, "She'll be OK now."
Terri settled back into the cushions with the brandy glass in her hand. She was confused. Events were happening too fast for her to grasp what was going on.
Johnny Leonard began to speak. "Here's the story, Frank ... Marko, here," he indicated George Marklin, "got together with Pauline Riggs, who manages a fancy dress shop ..."
Marko? He called my husband Marko, Terri thought in amazement.
"She extends credit to women who like nice clothes, but can't really afford them. Then, she springs the trap ... Work it out, pay off their debt by taking on the Johns she books for them. They work it real cool... all the dates in the afternoon, and the Johns are all high-pay business and professional types. She keeps the girls stashed in three apartments that Marko keeps for that purpose. Pauline and Gloria are the enforcers and make the pick-ups from the girls. Pauline and Marko split the take ... and Gloria gets a bonus on the side ... and the crazy thing is, it was working. That's about it."
Coppol gave a short alugh. "Smart!" he chuckled, "but not smart enough, Marko!"
"My name's George Marklin ... and I'm a movie dir - " George began.
Coppol's eyes stopped him, "We know who you are ... you're Gorgonio Marko, born in Naples! You changed your name when you came over here to work in the movies, but you had to have more... you had to get back in the rackets and prostitution was the one you figured you could get by with... select girls ... rich Johns ... afternoons only ... you figured you'd never hurt us enough for us to notice you ... isn't that it?"
"It's a mistake! You got the wrong man!" George croaked.
"We've got the right man, Marko," Frank said with finality. Then, with a smile, he continued, "But what went wrong with your system? Kind of ironic that your own wife was caught in your little trap ... and you didn't know it!"
Marklin shot a malevolent glance at Pauline, "You slut!" he screamed.
"Shut up," Pauline faced, "You bastard!"
"It's a little late for recriminations," Frank Coppol interjected, "Now, all of you listen to me."
The room became silent and all eyes turned to him.
"Nobody pulls crap like this on Frank Coppol. Now ... starting with you, Marko... I'm giving you three days to make arrangements to go back to Naples! If you're still around after that, they'll send you home in a box! Understand? ... Ordinarily, I wouldn't be so lenient, but I kind of like your ingenuity ... maybe you can work with the boys in Italy ..."
Marklin nodded dumbly, glad to gain even such a reprieve. He knew he could have been a dead man.
Like a judge, Frank dealt with each in turn: Francine, Barbara, Joan and Marie each stated that she had been trapped into prostitution and never wanted to do it... and wanted to get out of it, now.
Frank warned them, "Don't ever work in my territory again. Break your promise ... and you wind up broken! Believe me... we have methods that will remind you nobody ever crosses me ... I'm Frank Coppol and my family runs Southern California!"
The four frightened women understood, and were grateful to get off so lightly.
With mounting horror, Terri began to understand what was happening. This man wielded immense power. She knew that her turn would come soon; a chance to speak in self-defense. What could she say? Then, the stark memory of Jack Chavez tossing a wrinkled twenty on the kitchen table flashed across her mind. She was a whore! Oh, God! What can I say?
Frank's good eyes seemed to pin Gloria to her chair, she tried to stare him down defiantly, but it was she who wavered.
"And you, Gloria West, model, photographer... married to an insurance company executive ... what makes you tick?"
Gloria glanced briefly at Pauline, and Frank saw it. Before she could give an answer, he had supplied one himself. "I think I know ... you make it with girls, eh?"
The redhead looked at him steadily, defiantly.
"Yes," she said, simply.
"And you and Mrs. Riggs are more than friends, eh?"
Pauline shot him a murderous look. "You assume a lot of things, Mr. Coppol."
"I assume nothing, Mrs. Riggs. I know! Now we'll consider your cases together." He thought for a moment. "Guido," he said, "I'm turning the madame over to you ... you should be able to use her in that house near the docks at San
Pedro."
Guido looked her over critically and agreed, "OK, Frank... I need some new blood down there."
Pauline sprang to her feet, eyes flaming, "I'm not a piece of merchandise! I won't be pawed ... and manhandled like a common prostitute!"
Frank's eye signaled Guido and in two strides he stood in front of Pauline. "You don't have a choice. From now on, you work for me and do as I say!"
"But those horrible working men ... sailors ... longshoremen ... they'll want to ... "
"Sure they will... and you'll give 'em anything they want, and don't forget that, either. Now sit down and shut up, until Frank's through ... and then I'll begin training you the way I like for my girls to be trained!" Guido said coldly.
Pauline remained standing, "You can't force me to ... "
She didn't get a chance to finish. Guido's hand whipped out to catch her full on the side of the face. "That's all, bitch!"
She sank to her chair, whimpering, a hand to her face and her eyes wide with disbelief. They were going to make her work for them as a common whore ... and on the docks! The vision of the rough men and human flotsam that inhabited such areas revulsed her. They were going to use her body for their own lustful satisfaction! She was trapped! They couldn't do it to her... not to Pauline Riggs who only wanted gentle sex, with other women.
Coppol turned his attention to Gloria as Guido sat down.
"Johnny," he said, and Johnny Leonard was instantly alert.
"Yes, Frank?"
"We'll send this redhead down to Tijuana. I owe Jose a favor for helping us with that last Mexican shipment."
Leonard shifted uneasily, "What about immigration ... we don't want any trouble with them ..."
"No trouble to get her in ... but she'll have a hell of a time ever getting back into the States. Anyway, she'll be Jose's problem, once we turn her over to him," Frank explained.
"OK, it's as good as done," Johnny agreed.
With a horrible sinking feeling that seemed to turn to lead in her belly, Terri knew that she was next... and last.
Frank Coppol's good eye looked her over carefully, "Now, Mrs. Terri Marklin, beauty contest winner and former movie star ... what do you have to say for yourself?"
Terri looked at him steadily, she was dry eyes and composed. During the time he had addressed himself to the others, she had come to a decision. She spoke softly, her voice barely audible.
"I-I was tricked," she began, "forced to play the part of a whore ... I am a w-whore ... and now... I'll just have to keep on being one. I like nice things... maybe I could keep on getting nice clothes ... meeting rich people ... and getting some kicks doing it... "
A smile spread across his face. He chuckled, "I like people who face things realistically and honestly, and I'm going to give you your chance." He swiveled to face Johnny Leonard and went on, "Let Terri get whatever she needs ... send one of the boys with her to help her pack, then take her to my place up on Wilshire. She'll be under your supervision ... but I want her available to work directly for me, anytime I want her ... understand?"
"Of course, Frank," he smiled.
"All right, then, that's it." Frank Coppol said and got to his feet. The meeting was over. The fates of eight humans had been determined by this man, acting as judge, jury and executioner. His word was law here ... and he was supreme. There could be no appeal and his sentences would be carried out to the letter. Such was the power wielded by the "Capo," the family leader who controlled all vice and crime in Southern California.
Terri got to her feet with the others and the fat man came to escort her. She was a valuable property, now.
Frank Coppol smiled and came to her, "I like you," he said, "You treat me right... and I'll see that you're taken care of... properly!" He grinned lewdly, his meaning unmistakable."
"I-I understand," she said, smiling at him.
Terri never heard again from or about Jack Chavez. He had walked out of her life forever. She did, however, hear about Pauline Riggs. A week after she went to work on the docks, she was knocked down and killed instantly by a huge tractor-trailer rig. The truck driver was quoted in the newspapers, "This woman ran right out in front of me ... I couldn't avoid hitting her! It was almost like she wanted to be hit... like she was committing suicide."
A month later, Terri was being driven to Palm Springs by the fat man. He was her constant companion now, he drove her to her assignations and picked her up, depositing her safely back again at the apartment Frank Coppol maintained for her. He took Frank's payoff from her take, and provided her with protection.
As they drove along the desert highway, they chatted.
"Do you know these people I'm supposed to spend the weekend with, Al?"
"All I know is the guy's a rich, hot one ... something to do with electronics ... and Frank's working with him."
"Oh?" she rounded her red lips prettily, "Is he married?"
"Yeah ... Frank said she was a beautiful doll... an AC-DC type ..." he added.
"MMmmmm ... just the kind of setup I like!" she said.
Terri's mind seethed with anticipation. She would get to take care of both of them ... for a whole weekend. It would be easy to satisfy the man, she decided. It always was ... then, she'd be free to be with the woman, a beautiful doll, Al said. That's what she really looked forward to, what she lived for, and it was a good life. She had almost everything she had ever wanted: clothes and sex ... all kinds of sex!
She looked at the fat man. "Al... how come you never give me a tumble?"
He looked at her with startled eyes. "You don't know?"
"No!"
"You're Frank's girl! It's hands off... for everybody ... didn't you know that?"
"No ... no, I didn't know that..." She was thoughtful for a moment. "Is that good ... ?"
"For you!" he said, "You're a lucky broad!"
"Then, you'll never..."
"Never!" he said. "Unless Frank gives the word!"
"Would he ever d-do that?"
It was the fat man's turn to hesitate thoughtfully. "As long as you play ball with Frank ... keep your nose clean ... do as he says ... you're set!" he told her.
"Is that part of the code, too?"
"It's the code! But don't worry Terri, everything is O K.... and you're an O K. gal! Frank won't ever get tired of you!"
