CAROL WATERS is the pen name of a young woman' who worked as a prostitute for an international police agent. She is an admitted bi-sexual, enjoying the love of women as much as that of men.
She joined the police after her co-worker and lover was killed by a notorious jack-the-ripper type slayer. Although she was never completely at home working for the police, she wanted, more than anything in the world, to catch this guy.
The intercops had reason to believe he was a foreign agent. They wanted him almost as much as Carol. What follows is that story.
Carol Waters
Chapter I
I was dreaming about Susan again. It was the same painful dream that had ripped through my mind during the last three years. The dream never changed. It was always a second by awful second replay of the day that Susan had been killed. I used to have this dream every time I went to sleep but in the past year I reached the point where it was only happening once or twice a week. Although I dreamed about it less, that didn't stop it from being a painful jolt to my brain.
As it always did, the dream opened with Susan and me working on the streets of Pigalle, in Paris.
The tricks were light that night and the two of us had been out all evening waiting to score.
I glanced over toward Susan. She was about ten feet off to my right and had already taken off her vinyl vest. I could see the shine of sweat drip down her throat and run between those luscious tits. I flashed her a smile and she grinned back. Someone came over to talk with her. I was happy for her. I shouldn't have been.
The dream shifts to a back alley. Susan is lying there in a puddle of her own blood. Her lower body is in shreds as if someone tried to tear out her in-sides through her cunt. Her tits had been sliced clean off and were nowhere to be found. She was dead and all of our dreams were dead. I looked down at her and tried to keep from crying. I wanted to touch her to hold her and look at the pile of ground flesh that had been my lover.
The dream started to repeat the scene one more time. I forced myself awake and sat up in the bed. My body was covered with sweat and my hands were shaking. I reached out for my cigarettes and tried to clear my head. After three years I should be able to accept the fact that Susan was dead and that she died in such a horrible way, but I wasn't able to stop the dream. I didn't want to dream about how Susan died. I want to be able to dream about the four months before, when we were lovers. I took a drag from my cigarette and listened to the screaming sirens on New Yrok's streets outside my hotel room. I glanced at the clock next to my bed and saw it was almost four in the morning. Four o'clock is as good a time as any to do some deep thinking and remembering. I took some more smoke into my lungs and let hy mind jump back three and a half years to when Susan and I first met.
I was pretty fucked up back then. I was 17 and had been on the streets for two years. I was really confused about hustling, about how I felt to have these old men sticking me with their scaly, barely hard pricks. Oh I had lovers I liked. I can't say that I didn't enjoy those back-seat high school bounces with the football players, but it wasn't enough.
I became a whore because I needed money, but even more, I needed some new kicks. When I made enough to get to Paris, I decided to go big time. When Susan started working the street with me, I found someone I could talk with.
She and I hit it off from the very first. There was something about her that attracted me. It wasn't the fact that she was young, or that she had the most incredibly beautiful full tits. There was just something about her, about the way that she spoke and thought that made me fall for her. I could sense that in many ways Susan was just like I used to be. We liked the same foods, went to the same movies, even smoked the same cigarettes.
Since getting to Paris I had pushed dyke sex out of my mind. My body was so concerned with making a living that I had very little time to waste on girls. Now that I was getting close to Susan I found that I was thinking of her in sexual terms. I would spend hours while waiting for tricks thinking what it would be like to feel her nude body, hot next to mine. I wanted to touch her, to enter her body and let her nuzzle into mine. I wanted to feel her hard clit pushing against my tongue spilling her womanly juices down my throat. I wanted her to fill the emptiness that was part of me. I wanted her to love me and I knew that there was no way to ask her.
I found myself looking at her body when she was looking the other way. She was thin, about 110 pounds. There was not a part of her body that carried any useless fat. But she was well shaped, full. She monopolized my thoughts. I knew she was straight, but I wanted her.
I started trying to pull away from Susan. I was at the point where I was dreaming about her at night and waking up with my pussy wet and heaving. I knew that I was going to have to repress all my feelings for her or I wouldn't last long on the streets. We were the only two Americans here, any conflict and we would be deported before you could say Eiffel Tower.
I'd been in trouble before. I left high school because I wasn't able to keep my cool when it came to sex. Another girl and I were bumping pussies in the locker room after lacrosse practice when the coach walked in. Since there was nothing to do but admit what we were doing (it's pretty hard to lie your way out when you're caught with your mouth sucking on another girl's nipple)
I quit the team and dropped out of school.
It had been a stupid thing, to screw when there was a chance of getting walked in on, but I had been hot for this girl's twat for weeks. She wanted to make it right then and I was so horny that I would have made it on a stage.
I tried to get away from all that in Paris. I had done all right until Susan came along. Now all the desire and need that I had crushed out for the past year came flowing throughout my body. I wanted her more than I had ever wanted anyone. I also knew that it just wasn't sex that I wanted her for, I knew that I loved her. That love made it all the more painful as I tried to pull myself from her.
One day Susan and I were on a small street near St. Germain. Things Were slow. I lit up a cigarette. I didn't want to be around Susan and yet I knew that I needed her near me. At one time I would have put the make on her right there. There was an empty "Impasse" nearby, we'd never be discovered. Now I was too confused in my mind to try such a thing. I was also very afraid of what might happen if Susan rejected any advances I might make.
So I stood there with one hand on my hip, playing at making advances to the few passing men. I kept casting my eyes over toward Susan every few moments. I followed the lines of her body down her beautiful breasts. I could see the large tense nipples outlined under her tight shirt. My eyes dropped and I look hard at her crotch. I could just make out the lines of her lower lips pressed against the black cloth. I could feel myself tingle at the thought of her cunt. My mind started to do funny things and I was having thoughts of ten million tits and cunts running at me in lustful joy. I was starting to crack. I couldn't go on like that. I closed my eyes and leaned against the dirty brick building behind me.
When I opened my eyes I saw Susan standing in front of me. I could feel the blood beating through my body and I knew I was covered with sweat. Susan looked at me.
"You know," she said in a soft voice, "sometimes this job can really mess up your head. Sometimes you get screwed by so many guys that you feel like you're nothing but a piece of meat. What's the matter with you? You're treating me like the plague. You've got something you want to tell me. What is it?"
I could feel my insides go cold as she talked to me. I wanted to run into the streets and get away from her. At the same time I wanted to hold her, to love her. I was shaking inside, but I screamed at her.
"Get the fuck out of here. I don't have anything to tell you or anybody else in this fucking city. Just leave me alone with your goddamn problems."
Susan stared at me. If I could destroy our friendship, maybe I could avoid a worse problem. I hated what I had said to her, yet it seemed like the only way {hat I could keep any sort of control over my feelings. I felt like I was going to get sick.
Susan just kept looking at me. Her hand slashed through the air and raked me alongside the face. Before I could react, she hit me again and knocked me down. We struggled and somehow wound up in the "impasse".
"You stupid bitch," she screamed as I tried to throw her off. "You goddamned stupid twat. Don't give me any of that 'get the fuck out of here' crap or any other shit. I know what's been going through your pretty little fucked up head. I've had you pegged ever since you got on the street. I've been waiting for you to say something about the way you feel, but you've been just too screwed up to say anything. You dumb cunt, don't you know I want you?" She dropped her head down and kissed me on the lips.
I was too shocked to react at first. I could feel her tongue force in between my lips. Her mouth ground against mine and her hand pushed mine to the zipper on her pants. I opened it and thrust my hand inside. I worked my fingers down into the moist hole and felt the first few drops of liquid flow down my finger. I probed deeper, feeling the muscles of her cunt tighten as I hit the most serisetive spots. Susan's hands relaxed their grip on mine and the right one snaked down under my skirt. She held her lips to mine as she reached under my black lace panties. She lightly tickled my thrusting twat and moved past it to her real goal. I felt one finger slide into my asshole. I arched my back and felt the finger slip out. With her right hand she pulled my panties off and I could feel the hot tar beneath my ass. I kicked my panties free and started rubbing her clit as it started to throb. She pushed her tongue deeper into my mouth and rubbed and probed deeper. I let go of her cunt and brought my hand up to our lips. I poked my first two fingers in between our lips and into my mouth. I could taste her pussy on my fingers. When I pulled my fingers out they were drenched with spit. I rubbed the spit into Susan's hair. She shook her head and laughed. Then she lifted my legs spreading them wide apart.
She put her thumb into my cunt and drove her little finger into my tight ass. Fire and ice exploded in me and I began to shake. She drove as deep as she could, somehow managing to lodge another finger in each opening. She began to love me with hard thrusts of her hand, filling two pits of desire at once. She bent over me, her tongue began a mad dance in my mouth and our bodies began to rock back and forth.
My brain was running in a thousand directions. All of the questions and fears faded out of my mind. I forgot about the gym, about the streets, about everything but the fantastic sensations that were shooting through my body. I wrapped my arms around her but she slid away. Somehow we changed positions and her tongue was where her fingers had been. I could smell her joyous cunt in front of my face and we were soon in ecstatic 69.
I wrapped my arms and legs around her and tried to pull her into my body. Our tongues were dancing an insane rhythm now. I reached back over my head to Susan's ass. I felt her shake as I slid a finger in. The slurping was faster and deeper now. I could feel her body start to tense. We were going to come together. I bit on her stiff clit and- FUCK!!! I jumped out of my bed and put my fingers in my mouth. While I had been thinking about Susan my cigarette had burned down to my fingers. It hurt and now I was wide awake. I walked into the bathroom and ran some cold water over my hand. I should know better than to smoke when I'm half asleep, but smoking is a reflex action with me. The pain started to taper off and I pulled my fingers out of the water. I walked back into the bedroom and looked out the window.
Early morning New York looked back at me with a brown shine. The scene that looked at me was right now, not Paris of three years ago. I had to push the past out of my head and stay in today. The past is a dead thing and I can't keep living in it. One of these days I just might make a fatal mistake and then everything is going to be past.
I couldn't go back to sleep and it was still too early to go out. Anyway, I was on call and I should wait around for the phone to come alive. Since it looked like it was going to be one of those long mornings, I picked up the case file and started to review the assignment that had been driving me up the wall for the past three years.
The official name for the case is ICO3303-71599. The ICO part stands for International Crime Obviation, Intercops for short. I work for those guys. The numbers have a code meaning that I've never bothered to learn, except for the 99 part. That stands for murder. They call this case "the new Ripper".
"Ripper" is a weak term to describe this killer. I told you what he did to Susan. She was neither the first nor the last. The report reads like the shooting script of some cheap monster film that has been produced to see how sick and bloody it can be. So far the killer had left no leads and damn few clues. What we did know was mostly guesswork.
As best the lab and research department had been able to figure out, the killer was male, a woman hater, was in the employ of some foreign power, had money, and probably carried with him a supply of razor-edged tools. All the victims had their breasts removed and their genitals mutilated. Death was caused by loss of blood and/or traumatic snock.
These bits of information had been gathered over the past four years from eleven bodies in five countries. Since all the victims had been hustlers, usually of the most expensive kind, it seemed logical that the killer had money. What made Intercop think he was connected to a foreign power was that the murders took place only when there was some sort of international conference in the city. The ICO suspected the killer was hired by someone not invited. I was the only one who had reported seeing the guy, but I only saw him for a minute, from the back. He was so ordinary looking, I could never pick him out again.
As I began to sift through the papers on my lap, the phone rang. I picked it up and before I could say anything the speaker yelled in my ear. - "Waters," snapped the voice over the phone, "get moving. The Ripper has done it again, this time in Vienna. You've got an hour before you catch a flight out. Got it?"
I told him I did and hung up. I started the water for a shower and, afterwards, put on my make-up. I travel light. I have one everyday suit and then my "work clothes", a tight little leather dress, a tighter blouse with a neckline so low it almost touches my navel, black-lace undies, and a thigh holster, which I only wear in emergencies.
Anything else I need I can buy and charge to the ICO. You can't move fast with more than one suitcase, and I often need to move fast.
I guess that there are a lot of people who couldn't live the way I do. For at least three weeks out of the month I'm on the move. Home this year is a little apartment in Amsterdam, but I really haven't had that much time to live in it. The Intercops make sure that the rent gets paid so I really don't worry. Besides the revenge aspect, I like the way I live anyway, because I never know where I'm going or what I'm going to be doing. If I was tied down as a secretary to some stuffed shirt, I'd go mad in the space of a month.
I picked up my suitcase and headed for the airport. An hour later I was 20,000 feet high and on my way to Austria. I had a seat to myself so I didn't worry about being next to someone who would ask me all sorts of stupid questions. When anybody asks me what I do for a living I tell them that I'm an actress. It's a good cover and gives me a reason to always be on the move.
The flight to Vienna gave me a chance to catch up on some of the sleep that I had lost in New York. It also gave me a chance to have another one of my dreams. Unlike the one about Susan, this dream is a happy warm memory about my introduction to sex.
The dream is very real and always starts with me walking into my friend Johnny's house after junior high school. Johnny wasn't home that day, but his father was. Johnny's father had been in the Marines during the war and had a strong hard body. He was about six feet two inches tall. I loved his crew-cut and those muscles. Sometimes, I wondered whether it was Johnny or his father I liked the best.
Johnny's father said that Johnny was out shopping with his mother. He invited me to wait. I found that there was something every exciting about being alone with him, something very sexual. I began to get nervous. I didn't want Johnny's father to see me sweating there, yet at the same time I wanted to reach out and touch him, to hold him. I really didn't understand what the feelings meant, I just wanted to be near him. Johnny's father saw me turn red. He sat down next to me on the couch. I couldn't help but look at him. In all my thirteen years, Td never felt like this.
Even when it's just a dream I can hear the blood pounding in my ears and feel my body shake the way it did. I was scared and had no idea what this man was going to do. I wanted to run and hide, but there was something about this man that kept me there.
He brought his face closer to mine and put his lips over my lips. I felt his hands unbuckling my belt and opening the snap at the top of my Levi's. His hand crept inside and down under my white undies. I felt things start to explode in my mind and found myself rushing toward something I had never felt before. It was dreamlike, wonderful, and I was going out of my mind with pleasure. The feeling was so intense that even when I'm awake I can't fully remember what happened that day. My mind is filled with still photographs of his hand in my cunt, of his large throbbing cock against my little hands, of shooting cum which dribbled down my arm. Hundreds of sensual images that made that day so fantastic.
The dream faded into clouds of memory and I could hear the flight stewardess telling everyone to fasten their seat belts. I woke up and strapped on my belt, giving my aching curit a little rub in the process. The plane went into approach and thirty minutes later I was sitting in the bar at the Vienna airport.
I was in no real hurry to get to work and I knew that the body would keep until I was ready to see it. What I really needed was a drink, something to clear my head. A lot of people can't drink in the morning, but since I keep such strange hours there really is no such time as too early. I looked at the bartender and asked for "etwas stark" ("something strong"). I had forgotten that the Austrians are big drinkers but when the bartender gave me a water glass that was filled to the top with gin, my memory came back. I drank only the first two ounces, paid my tab and went out to grab a taxi.
The cab dropped me off in front of the Usterreiches Fillmburo, the Vienna cover operation of ICO. I went in by a side door since the place had not yet opened for business. I walked into the only office with a light on and was hit by a voice that growled out, "My, my, if it isn't the whoring Honey West, Carol Waters."
It was Ducasse, fat, ugly Ducasse, with the fucked up mind and the sick sex life. I wanted to scratch his eyes out. Ducasse is the type who never fails to say something nasty and someday he is going to end up dead. I flashed him a cold look and sat down.
ICO knows all about my other profession and they don't give a damn. Ducasse is a different matter. He doesn't care for the way I made my money and takes every chance to tell me. Still, the man is one of the best men that ICO has and his value makes me overlook the fact that he is a total loss as a human being. I don't like the man, but I do have a hell of a lot of respect for his talent.
Ducasse gave me a crude look and started, in his own way to brief me. "The body was found at about three this morning by a drunk that walked into the wrong room. This one is the same as all the others, death caused by loss of blood and shock. No trace of the girl's tits as usual and no fingerprints. This is starting to look like a dead case unless you've come up with some bright ideas."
"Nothing new," I told him, "still no breaks. I'm going to check out the victim and see if I can't put something together from that."
"She's a whore." Ducasse spat out the words. "Just one more whore that got her tits sliced off. She was just some hot cunt after money. Hell, Waters, you should know all about people like that. And you like girls too, huh? Maybe you've even gone to bed with this latest one. The only reason you're on this case is that if we find the missing tits, you'll be able to match them up with their owners. Ha, a new crime tool: identification by taste. I'll bet that-" The back of my hand across his face kept him from saying any more. There were red streaks where my nails had torn the flesh.
"Listen," I spat, "I've had just about all the shit I'm going to take. You want to talk about my sex habits you can talk when I'm off duty. Right now I've got to find a killer and your sick jokes are no help." He sat down. I wanted to put my heel into his balls but it wouldn't have done any good.
Ducasse waited for the color to come back into his cheeks and then said, "They haven't moved the body out yet, thought you might want to see it. Room 1245 at the Hotel Aachenan Wahring Platz. Know it? The police have already gone over everything but you just might find something they missed. Now get the fuck out of here and don't bother me unless you hit on something really big."
The entire floor where the body had been found was covered by police. The Austrians figure too many cops are better than not enough, and there must have been at least fifty in the hotel. I showed my ICO card and walked into the room. Even after seeing the same scene six times (Susan was the sixth victim, five were before I was on the case), it was still a shock to look at the body on the bed.
The first thing that hit was the smell. The air hung thick with the odor of blood, cum, and cunt. There were spots of blood all around the room and it looked like the killer had reached into the body with both hands and brought everything he could out through the sex hole. There were stains oh the floor and walls where it looked like someone, I guess a cop, had gotten sick. I could understand why.
I walked over to the body and took a look. That body had once been a very beautiful young woman. Not even the fact that it was now cold and dead could hide the fact that she was once a firm, striking woman. Her muscles had been well shaped and her skin had the deep kind of tan you get only at an expensive resort. She had been the kind of girl you thought of when you stroked your box before going to bed at night.
From the neck to the feet the body was covered with open wounds that showed the blood. There was nothing left of what once must have been two beautiful breasts. She had been bound and gagged and from the impressions on her wrists I could tell she had tried very hard to get free. It hadn't done any good.
When I saw the others after Susan, I got to thinking about what would go through the minds of the victims as they were being killed. I guess every woman of the streets has morbid thoughts about getting killed or worse and I came up with some very morbid thoughts of my own. To feel hard steel beneath your breasts perhaps while a strange prick is pumping in your body-to know that when he cums you are really going to die is a strange feeling. It wasn't the kind of thought I like to dwell on.
After looking around the room I stepped out into the hall and lit up a cigarette. I took a deep puff of the bitter smoke and tried to think of the best way to crack this case. The victim had been a hustler and I was going to have to make the rounds of every street corner and red light bar in Vienna to find out more about her. The problem was finding some one that had seen her last night with the killer.
I took another drag from my cigarette. My eyes hit upon the firm form of a cop on guard. He was wearing the green uniform of the city police and there was something about him that made me think of Johnny's father. It wasn't anything visual, but there seemed to be a sameness in the way he stood, the way he held himself. He appeared to be well built and was about 35.1 dropped my eyes down to his crotch to make out just a hint of his bulge against the front of his baggy wool pants. I sucked some more smoke into my lungs and thought what he would be like in bed. I wet my pants thinking of his pulsating tool penetrating my cunt.
The longer I looked at him the more I knew I wanted to taste him, to lick the salty sweat from between his legs and feel his prick leap into my body. But it was hopeless. I left the building and went out into the street.
That afternoon I sat in a "stube" sort of a cafe, by the old opera house. I couldn't be out on the streets -ntil late and I might as well get in some relaxation while I could. Vienna is a great city for just watching people and I was really getting into the swing of things. I drank my coffee as a parade of Austrian men and women went by. German speaking people are strange lovers and the Austrians are the oddest of the lot. Most of the men are into a power trip and want to make you come just to prove themselves. The women are a different story.
Most Austrian women will jump at the chance to hop in bed with another woman as long as they get to play the lady. The first time that I was in Austria I picked up this girl who seemed very eager to make it. We went to my hotel and I licked her till she ran like a faucet. Then she pulls this ten inch dildo from her purse-thick and black. I thought she was going to use it on me. But no-she makes me strap it on and hump her like there's no tomorrow.
Finally, I'm looking to get off myself, so I grab her hand and move it toward my hair hole. She leaps out of bed and says something in German that I didn't understand. I tried to explain that fair is fair and she should do for me what I didfor her, but she just left. I ended up stroking muff that night after she left.
I dropped by the office and picked up the report on the last victim. Ducasse was out so I didn't have to put up with his inane comments for a change. The report was the usual collection of records, passport information and arrests. The victim had been Austrian. Her name was Helga Fernsprecht. She was twenty-two and had once been arrested in Germany for drugs. Her passport read like a list of the sex capitals of the world; she had even been to the States. The report showed that she spent a great deal of money and had no income although she came from a rich family. She had attended some of the better schools but had not been granted a degree from any of them. There was a note on the last page of the report that said the family had refused to claim the body when contacted by the police.
It was the standard story, no clues, no traces and no personal motive that we could trace. The only thing left for me to do was start checking out her last few hours and see if I could get a lead. There were still a couple of hours until the bar and street action got heavy so I went back to my hotel and caught a few hours of sleep.
The desk called me at nine. I took a quick shower, dressed in my "work clothes", had some dinner and went to work.
The first place I went to was "Die Heisse", a swinging club that caters to Vienna's beautiful people. The part of the club by the bandstand is for the regular couples, the hookers hang out by the bar. As I walked back to the bar I could feel eyes all over my body. I paid for a drink and perched myself on a stool. This let the crowd know that I would be willing to talk or that I was very stupid and did not know the rules of the place. I looked around and smiled at no one in particular. I sipped my coy little daiquiri.
I didn't have to wait very long. A tall slim young man, very dark, perhaps Spanish, came over to me and smiled. In a smooth voice he asked if he could speak with me. We moved over to a side table and sat down. We talked for a few moments until he understood that I knew the scene. He was Spanish, it seems, but had lived for six years in Austria. He began to tell me about the scene and I knew that I had touched on a good source of information.
After he had finished telling me about all the clubs and streets where there was any action I pulled out a passport shot of Helga Fernsprecht and showed it to him.
"Have you," I asked as his hand moved onto my thigh, "ever seen this woman?"
He looked at the photo and then said, "Yes, many times. Helga is very well known and very expensive. You are looking for her?"
"Yeah, we used to be lovers and I'm trying to find her." I felt this guy's hand move off my leg like it was on fire. He gave me a sick smile and then told me that Helga could usually be found at a club called "Chunga", near the Imperial Chapel. I told him I'd see him around, gave his crotch a little squeeze and left.
Chunga was a riot of hands and fingers on my ass and tits as I pushed my way toward the bar. While Die Heisse had been mixed, this place was just whores and whore hunters. One hand grabbed onto a tit and I felt another reach between my legs. I made a quick side motion and ended up at the bar. The place was packed with every type of hooker from the sleeziest, to girls so beautiful I could come just thinking about them. If I wanted to get information, this was going to be the place. I ordered a martini and leaned on the bar. Over to one side of the room was a rather well known former Luftwaffen pilot with three or four young girls at his table. It looked like an interesting party and I wished that I wasn't on duty. The pilot caught my eye and smiled. I smiled back and felt a hand press up against my rear. Behind me stood a blond young man with a hopeful smile and an erection pushing hard on the front of his pants.
"Do pardon," he said with an English accent as he tried to run a finger up my skirt, "hope that I'm not being a bother. Rather wild place isn't it?"
His accent was deep London and I figured him for a bureaucrat on leave. He's the kind that spends fifty weeks a year without any sex and then goes wild as soon as he gets out of England. His type can sometimes be fun but this one was a bit too crude for my taste. I shook free his hand and walked away.
On the other side of the room I cornered a waiter, slipped him 200 shillings and showed him the picture of Helga. The story of the murder had been suppressed by the police so I knew that there was a good chance that he would tell me anything. He looked at the picture and nodded. I gave him another two hundred and asked if he had seen her around last night.
He smiled one of those cryptic Germanic grins and pointed toward the pilot. "Ja," he said, "Helga was with Baron Gorkoff all last night. They left to- gether."
I slipped him another two hundred ane walked away. A Luftwaffe pilot had just as much chance of being the killer as did anyone else and I wanted to join his party anyway. I walked over to the bar and looked over at his table. He smiled at me again and waved for me to come over. I sat down next to him and we started to talk.
"You speak English, yes?" When I nodded he went on. "I am Baron Gorkoff, flyer of planes. These are my friends, Anna, Ursula, and Gabrielle. You like something to drink and we all talk English together? You look good. You make movies?
I took a sip of my drink and told him that I wasn't in films. Gorkoff was an exceptionally good looking man. His body looked tight and solid and his eyes had a strange insane light. I guess that any man who will fly a plane into battle needs to be crazy. "I should hope," he said in a suddenly clear and fine English accent that shocked me, "that you aren't some magazine writer who wants to tell the world that I like young girls just as much as I do planes. That would be very sad because I would like to get to know you somewhat closer. If you are a writer I would feel very sorry for you."
"No," I said. "I'm probably in the same profession as your little friends there. I don't think that anything will stand in the way of our friendship." I clinked my glass to the side of his and felt his hand land on the inner side of my leg.
"That makes me very happy," he told me as his fingers worked their way over the top of my panties. "You don't know how careful I must be. I come here because these are my friends and no one will cause me trouble. My people really couldn't understand my tastes if the word got out. I am a hero here and I must act like a hero. It can be sad to like little girls in Austria." He gave my cunt a little rub and then took his hand out. . My mind raced over the information I had just picked up. I not only had a suspect, I also had a possible motive. If Helga had tried to blackmail Gorkoff, that would have been reason to kill her. That didn't explain all of the other murders but I had already decided that Gorkoff was insane and he might have killed the others. Also, someone like Gorkoff had money and was able to travel.
The five of us sat and talked and fucked around under the table. I wasn't going to say anything about Helga until I had some more information. For the time being I just sat back and enjoyed myself. The bar started to close and Gorkoff suggested that I might care to join him and his friends at his house. I told him it might be fun and we left
Chapter II
We drove out to the house in his Mecedes. Gorkoff drove the same way he flew his plane, like a madman. His house was a massive place in the foothills of the Alps. It must have cost a million dollars. Gorkoff could afford it; I had read somewhere that he made over two million a year by lecturing and through private contributions of friends "still sympathetic to the cause".
The inside of the house was filled with paintings and pictures of the pilot. To the right was a photo of him in front of his plane, on the left was a life size portrait of him in the nude with a massive erection.
While I was looking at the portrait he came over and handed me a drink.
"Sit down," he said, "we are going to show you a little game we play/'
I sat down and as a reflex touched my purse where I had stored my gun. While I didn't expect him to pull out a straight razor, I just wanted to be on the safe side. I waited for something to happen and looked around the room. It was huge, almost large enough to land a plane in. At one end were heavy drapes that were drawn shut. I had no idea where Gorkoff and his girlfriends had gone.
I heard the sound of a propeller and turned my head. From a door on the side Gorkoff and two of his playmates entered. They were all nude, Gorkoff had a hard-on jutting from his body. He looked like he was carrying a lance in his crotch. His cock stuck out a full ten inches from his body and had a massive round head. The girls were in all their just-post-pubescent splendor. Their newly budding breasts bounced as they walked. The three of them strutted around the far end of the room. Gorkoff looked at me, smiled and made the sign of the twisted cross. I smiled back.
There was the sound of propellers again. From behind the curtains the fourth girl backed out. Strapped to her arms were what appeared to be pieces of an old propeller, filed to razor sharpness. I suddenly got an idea of what was going on. I was to see a dog fight. An unarmed Gorkoff, evading the pursing "allied forces". Just as in one of his famous exploits. The girl ran around the room swinging her arms. Gorkoff expertly dodged the sharp blades. The girl seemed to be enjoying herself as she came ever closer to slicing into Gorkoff s massive cock.
"Now for the support troops!" yelled Gorkoff as he moved to the side. The other two girls began dodging the flailing metal. I could hear the whoosh of the propellers through the air.
"Aeeiii!" one of the girls screamed and I immediately saw a tiny rivulet of blood flow in a line across her stomach and gather in the now matted hair at her crotch. Gorkoff motioned that she should leave. I saw that despite the blood, it was only a flesh wound.
"The support troops cannot hold out!" yelled Gorkoff as he charged back into the center of the room again. He stood tall and arrogant and egged the girl directly toward him. Each time, he stepped easily out of the way. The girl with the metal on her was getting tired. I could see sweat running down her body. She was taking in air in great gulps and was about ready to fall over.
The hidden recording of a propeller began again. Gorkoff walked over to where the wounded girl was sitting on the side. Her bleeding had just about stopped, but Gorkoff pressed his cock against her stomach until it stood up bright red. He turned and walked back to face "the plane" his cock dripping with blood. The girl ran toward him and he ducked catching her around the knees bringing her down on her back.
Instantly he spread her legs and drove his dripping cock deep into her cunt. With the sharp wings tearing at the carpet Gorkoff began to move in and out of the young girls body. She screamed and it was impossible to tell from which body came the blood which shone on his prick. He pumped faster and harder and I saw his body shake as he filled the girl with cum.
Gorkoff pulled himself out of the girl's cunt and stood up. He walked over to me and I could see white drops of cum dripping from his tool. He bowed from the waist and clicked his heels.
"I have downed this plane for you." he said.
I thanked him but I didn't know what else to say or do. Gorkoff smiled at me and went on. The enemy plane is now in your service, use it as you wish.
The girl had unstrapped the metal from her arms. She crawled over to me and nuzzled her face under my skirt. Her hands went above her head to the tops of my panties and then pulled them down. My box was oven-hot, as she ran her hands first over the surface and then deep inside. One hand moved to my ass as the other probed deeper and deeper into my cunt. I leaned back in my chair and let the sensa- tion flow over my body. The soft rubbing of her hands was sensual and I started pushing hard against her hand. The girl groaned and began to work me more frantically. Her fingers rolled my clit back and forth. I rocked faster and reached for her head to pull it closer. I was coming and I could see my juices run down the fingers of the girl beneath me.
I fell back in the chair and closed my eyes. Little jolts of electricity were running through my body. I sucked in a gulp of air and a mouth started to lick the juices from the insides of my thigh. The tongue poked in and out of my lap getting every drop that had oozed out. The tongue then started the trip up my thigh to my already wet box. The tongue had found my love button and began to play it back and. forth. I reached out and pushed the girl's face tight against my crotch.
She began to nibble and suck and pull and I felt her choke for lack of air. She pulled back a bit and then began again. She still kept one finger up my ass and the muscles there kept tightening and loosening.in harmony with the waves of pleasure. Her finger went higher and deeper until I felt that she could have poked through and touched her tongue on one end to her finger in the other. She worked me faster and I couldn't hold back the juices which began again. She slurped greedily and then let her tongue trail out along my thigh. She moved down to my feet, took off my shoes and began to suck my toes.
I looked over to the other side of the room and saw Gorkoff and the other two on the rug. They were formed in a triangle on the floor and had a three-way sixty nine in progress. The wounded girl sucked on Gorkoff s massive cock while the other girl in turn licked at her cunt. Gorkoff completed the triangle with his face buried in the twat of the second girl. While I really don't care for group sex, this looked like it might be fun. I pulled my toes from the girl's mouth and stood up. I took off the rest of my clothes and laid them down where I could reach my gun if needed. I looked down at the girl and asked if it would be all right to join the others. She looked a little hurt but moved over with me to the party on the rug.
Gorkoff saw me walk over and pointed to my cunt and then to his own mouth. I shook my head and pointed down to his tool. He smiled as best he could and pulled himself out of his partner's mouth. He moved to the side and I got down on the rug. I took him into my mouth and slid my lips down toward the dark brown hair at the base. At the same time a pair of lips and a tongue started working on my own crotch. After having come two separate times in the last fifteen minutes I knew I wasn't ready for a third. So instead I concentrated on the throbbing mallet between my lips. I ran my tongue over the top and could taste the sweet salt of his body drip out. I placed one hand on his balls and the other on his shaft. I started to work him with a slow even stroke. I felt him grow under my lips.
I brought him to the point of climax three times and each time I bit ever so slightly to forestall the final surge. When he got ready to shoot again I began to suck and rub his cock much faster. He grabbed my head and began to push into me. I drove onwards and he soon filled my mouth with a hot charge of salty semen. His body jerked and he withdrew his face from the cunt he'd been eating to let out a groan. His cum burned a hot trail down my throat and he fell back on the rug. I squeezed the last few drops from him and pulled away.
The five of us sat on the rug and smoked cigarettes and drank wine for awhile. Gorkoff moved over beside me and our bodies touched while we drank. The pilot was a strange kind of man and I found myself starting to like him. His taste in games seemed a bit insane but maybe some of the games I like would have struck him as crazy. In a way I could understand why he structured the sex game after a dog fight.
Fighting in a plane must be a very sexual feeling. Shooting down the enemy could be the climax. I know that sometimes when I've just missed getting killed, I feel a sensation like the afterglow of sex. Maybe sex and death are the same thing and we don't know it. To some, pain, death and sex are synonymous.
When the wine was gone, Gorkof f told the others to leave. He turned and looked at me with a strange look in his eyes. It wasn't the kind of look that would make me dash for my gun. Putting his hand on mine he leaned over and softly kissed my lips.
"You are a very strange person, Miss Waters. Very strange. I think that in many ways we are alike. Tell me, are you afraid to die?"
My stomach went cold and I looked over to where my clothes were piled. If I needed it, my gun was only a second away. I didn't know what he was going to do but I tensed my body to spring. I looked in his eyes and said, "Death happens to everyone but I'm in no hurry to join the crowd."
He leaned back on the floor and looked up toward the shadows on the walls. "I lived with death, it's hard to live without it. Every time I walk into my plane, every time I drive my car, I touch the wing of death. To know death puts a strange light into the eye. Your eyes have that light, Miss Waters. I think you have seen death."
"I had a friend once," I started but could not finish. I only said, "Death is an ugly thing to me. Nothing poetic about it."
"Ah, that is because you are an American. To me death is a very young and beautiful person who wants to take me in her arms and kiss me. I want the kiss but I also want to tease her, to make her come after me. To court me. Someday I will face death. No longer in a plane, but perhaps in a car, or here." His arm swept the room around us. "Death will take me. She will be tall and blonde and dressed in black and I will be her groom. For me there can be no other way." He dropped his hand between my legs and softly began to play.
His hand felt warm and blood rushed down to my little hole.
"Even sex," he continued, "is a touch of death. For a split second we are free of our bodies and taste the cool essence of nothingness. For us, perhaps, sex is even closer to death than we care to admit."
My pussy was trying to get hot, but I was too busy thinking about the strangeness of his words. I picked up a cigarette and looked down at him. I took in a deep puff and let the fumes fill my lungs. I exhaled and the smoke made shadows on the wall.
"I don't want to die," I said, "I know that someday I'll run into your black queen and there will be no way of avoiding her. That doesn't mean that I need to look forward to that day. Death has hurt me a lot as it is, I don't need any more."
"Let us love then," he said, "and feel the joy of being alive."
He ran his tongue up my thigh and began to nibble at my outer lips. I leaned back and pulled him to me.
His tongue traced a path of saliva around my navel and onto my chest. He took my nipples into his mouth and kissed them, biting softly. His tongue found my ear and I shivered from the sensation. He worked his lips up the side of my face and began to kiss around my mouth. I dropped my hand down to his crotch but he pushed it away. His hand touched me and I felt a finger penetrate. We rolled over and I pressed my body down on his. My tongue explored his mouth, then his entered mine. His finger crept deeper into me and I could feel my muscles contract. He moved to mount me, but first I covered his penis with saliva lubricant. I slid beneath him and took hold of his wet shaft and guided it to the opening between my legs. I wrapped my legs around his body and he slowly pushed the head of his monstrous cock into my tight hole.
I moaned and felt the head of his knob rub against the smooth muscles and slip in. I pulled him deeper and soon I could feel his loose balls knocking up against me. He pulled back until only the head of his cock was in my cunt and then pushed deep once more. I wrapped my arms around him and shoved my tongue into his ear. I started to move with his long slow strokes, I gasped each time he went in. I could sense that every nerve in his body was at the end of his prick. Every nerve of mine was in my cunt. Every move that he made sent a tiny earthquake running down my spine. Not since Susan had I felt such excitement, such intense desire as I did with Gorkoff. He kept pushing deeper and harder with each stroke and I knew he was getting ready to come. His fingers tore into my skin and the sharp flashes of pain pushed me even higher. Everything faded from my mind except the mad pleasure that was filling my body. He broke his rhythmic stroke and began to shove himself into me like a madman. I could feel a bomb go off in my womb and he rushed into me like the sea.
A white blaze of light tore through my mind and a host of new sensations flowed over me. I was floating, turning over in space without form or shape. Colors flashed behind my eyes and a roar filled my ears. I shot away from the earth as I felt Gorkoff shoot inside me. The universe began to spin and a deep rich blackness wrapped around me.
It must have been an hour before we moved again. He had gone limp inside of me and his prick slowly slid from my body. I filled my lungs with air and held it in and then slowly let my lungs go empty. I moved my hand down his hard body and kissed him. I didn't want to talk, to say anything that might remove the feeling that filled the room. Dreams danced on the ceiling and my body felt warm and good. Gorkoff laid his head against my breasts and began to talk.
"Did you see her?" he asked in a low voice, "Did you hear the wings of her black body in your ears? I saw her near me and smelled her sweet dry breath on my face. Someday soon she is going to kiss me and all of this will be over."
My fingertips danced over his chest. I really didn't want to talk but I knew that it was important that I did. "I don't know what I saw," I whispered. "All I know is that I went somewhere I've never been." We laid still for a while longer and then Gorkoff got up. He left the room and came back with a bottle of wine. We drank from the bottle without glasses, in silence. As the sun was starting to creep into the house Gorkoff picked up a cigarette and took a cloud of smoke into his lungs. He handed the cigarette to me and as I took a puff the world seemed to grow real again. The warmness seeped out of me and I was back on the ground again.
"You know," he told me, "you are a woman and I am a man. If I did not love death so much we could be lovers. You say you are a prostitute, yet you ask for no money. The girls I keep here are real whores. When I die they will find another man to take care of them. They love me because I pay them and because I was a great pilot. Lest night you loved me because you wanted to, because you felt something of me inside of you. That is how it should be. Because I could love you and you me, we must not see each other for a long time. I can die at any time and I feel that somehow you are the same. I think that the pain that might come from our relationship would be very strong. I may love death but I have no need of pain." He leaned over and kissed me. The kiss was soft and had goodbye written all over it. He stood up and stretched his body and said in a brisk voice. "I hope that you will join me for some breakfast. If you want to wash there is a bathroom off to the right." He turned and walked out of the room.
I spent a long time in the shower running first hot, then cold water over myself. While I dried myself I thought about what a louse I sometimes had. to be in my job. I had come out here to see if Gorkoff was a killer and for no other reason. What had happened between us was a wonderful and a very deep thing but that could not stop me from doing my job. After our talk about death I still had the feeling that he might just be the man that I was looking for. I still had to find out what he knew about Helga Fernsprecht and I had to find out soon. I told myself that even the Boston Strangler might e been great in bed and a deep and feeling person. Such traits didn't stop him from being a savage killer. I had to think the same about Gorkoff.
Breakfast was served on the patio and I noticed his three girls did all the cooking and rework. At the table Gorkoff was witty and :ed but there was no hint of the feeling that had there during the night. He was a prime exam- pie of the rich urban Austrian with an honored guest and nothing more. Even this struck me as strange since his public image is that of a brave, but rather stupid character that has made good. From the way that he spoke English and carried himself I got the feeling that he had come from a rich and old family. His early life didn't concern me that much, I needed to find out what he had been doing during the last three days. I dipped the end of my roll into my coffee and asked in an offhand manner, "By the way, a friend of mine told me about a young woman in Vienna that is supposed to be a lot of fun. Maybe you know her and could tell me if it is worth my time to meet her.
When I told Gorkoff the name he paled and almost dropped his coffee. "Ah, that girl is a tramp. A cunt. She is the kind that looks at her body in a mirror and makes love with her hand. Don't waste your time with her, she'll only cause you trouble." "Sounds like you know her pretty well," I answered. "Is she really that bad?"
"What I tell you now is between us. I have known her for a long time, even had her out here. Two nights ago she joined us at Chunga. She told me that she wanted to come out here and be a plane for me. While we are driving here she tells me that the American magazines would pay her a lot of money for telling them what it was like to sleep with me. She wanted me, me to pay her not to talk. Gorkoff does not pay for blackmail and I told her so. I told her that no one would take the word of a whore over the word of a great fighter pilot. I stopped the car and made her get out. That's why I asked you if you were a magazine writer last night. No, it is much better if you leave her alone. I doubt if she is still in Vienna, I told her I would shoot her down like a jet if she causes me any trouble."
Back in my hotel room I sat down and did some heavy thinking. I had a suspect, a motive and the opportunity to do the killing. Gorkoffs frame of mind was such that he might just pick as bloody a method as had been used on Helga. At the same time I had spent the night with a man who was tender and almost mystical in the way he made love. I couldn't fit the two together and at the same time I could see a strong relationship. I wanted to forget the entire thing and quit the case, but then I remembered Susan and knew I couldn't. I had a job to do, a killer to find and Susan's memory bound me to do it. Still, how do you turn in the first man that made you feel love in over three years? I sat and looked at the telephone and wondered what the hell to do.
I thought about a lot of things during the next two hours. I tend to act on instinct and right then my instinct was a screwed over mess. No matter what I did I was fucking over something or someone that I cared for. I leaned back on the bed and looking in my mind under Choice: Moral, Difficult. I found that part of my mind to be fairly empty, but what I did find was something that I had suppressed along with a lot of other things.
The scene that popped into my head was a thing that happened during the short time I spent in jail in New York. I was busted for streetwalking.
I was asleep in my bunk when I woke up and saw a shadow by the side of me. The shadow moved up to my face and in the dim light I could see that it was Marsha. To have called Marsha a cunt was to have insulted a rather nice part of the human body. She was a scum-bag, a used rubber that had learned to walk. I wondered what the hell she wanted.
"Hey Carol," she whispered, "want to have some fun? Come on down to the floor and see what we've got," I swung down from my bunk. On the floor were about ten women, the entire occupants from our overcrowded cell. They were in a circle and the hot smell of female bodies hit my nose as I walked over to the women. Standing in the center of the circle were two women: Jane, a tough bitch with arms of steel, and Tina, a small girl from the suburbs busted for marijuana. Jane was holding Tina by the neck and pushing her facedown, with her other hand she pulled down her own white panties and forced Tina toward her box. I looked around the circle and noticed at least half the girls were rubbing themselves in anticipation.
Jane looked around with a glazed, animal-like stare and then shoved her twat into Tina's face. Tina started to gag and Jane rammed a knee into her gut. Tina started to slurp gently. Jane grunted like a pig and a bit of saliva dribbled from the corner of her mouth. She looked like a woman who had just found the end of a rainbow.
"Eat my cunt, you little muff diver," she grunted. "You want to have my cunt and you can eat all the cunts in this room. I'll teach you to try and finger me while I'm in the shower. You'll eat out the entire cell and then we are going to coke bottle you until you bleed."
Tina jerked her head back and Jane slammed her with her fist. "That did it," the big woman said, "now I'm really going to rip you open." She jerked down Tina's shorts and someone handed her a coke bottle. Tina started to cry and beg. I felt myself start to get sick and a cold anger built up in my gut. I pushed my way into the center of the ring and looked down at Jane.
"Let her go," I spoke in a cold voice.
"Hoho, the pretty lady wants to get her twat licked first. Fuck off, Waters, the first one in that little cunt will be me."
I grabbed Jane by the hair and pulled. "Nobody is going to fuck anybody with anything tonight unless it's me-fucking you up. Now," I pulled harder, "let her go."
Jane let her go before I pulled her over on to the floor. No one made a move. Jane glared at me and snarled. "What's the matter, Waters? You don't want anybody getting off on your own personal piece? Shit, you may be a tough cutie, but I think you're just as much a cunt licker as she is. Is that it, you a cunt licking little dyke like her?"
I stared at her ugly face for a second and then put my foot in it. She slammed into the wall and fell down on the floor. I wanted to kill her for doing what she did to Tina and while she was getting back up I said, "I think you're the dyke in this cell, Jane. After all, you were the one that wanted to get eaten out, you're the one that was going to fuck her with that glass dildo. Hell, what were you going to do, let us stick that bottle in your ass while she ate you out?"
Jane sprang at me like some kind of beast just the way I hoped she would. What she had done to Tina made me want to bite her tits off. Nobody had the right to force somebody to do something and Jane was going to learn that very fast. I drove a foot right into her crotch. She doubled over and I jumped onto her back digging my nails into her tits. She fell on the floor. Before she could move I sunk my teeth into her neck.
She tried to throw me off like a bull tries to throw off those colored barbs they stick into his skin. I held tight until she grew tired and sank to her knees, crying.
Back in my bunk I thought about what I had done. If I had any sense I would have just let Jane and the others have their kicks with Tina. Una was a girl lover and everyone knew it. She would stand around in the showers and stare at the rest of the women. She was always talking about what big tits some of the girls had and I was surprised that it had taken her this long to put the make on somebody. Hell, it was probably her big dream that she would get gang-fucked by ten women and I had gone and ruined her chance. Still, the tiling didn't seem right to me, sex isn't a side show. What I had seen had made me sick and I had done something about it. It may have been stupid but it felt right.
I sat up in bed and took another cigarette. The choice I had made that night had been the right one for me. As I puffed on my cigarette I remembered other choices that hadn't come out right.
I got off the bed and walked over to the window. I knew what I was going to have to do and the idea didn't make me happy. I picked up the phone and called Ducasse. When I told him I had a suspect he was happy. When I told him the name, he shit.
"What the fuck are you telling me!" he yelled over the phone. "Don't you know that Gorkoff is the most popular man in Austria? Something like this just might start another war. Has your whoring brain gone soft from too much twat juice? Waters, you're mad."
Ducasse might not like it but there were too many facts to ignore. I told him that I was on my way and to pull everything that he had on Gorkoff, the works. I hung up the phone and stood still for a moment. There was a cold feeling inside me that was going to take a long time to go away. I slammed the door on my way out.
His face was flushed red with anger, but Ducasse had the file on Gorkoff on his desk when I got there. While Ducasse went to communications to see if the Inter-cop International file had arrived, I looked over the local one. As I had suspected, Gorkoff was not the simple farm boy that made good. His father had held a high post in the government and his mother had a long list of titles after her name. Both parents had been killed in an auto wreck in 1955. Gorkoff had gone to school in England and France. Studying to be a doctor, he had dropped out before getting his degree. His taste for young girls was noted and there was also a notation that his sex habits went beyond the usual limits. There was no arrest record but a man with his money wouldn't have one. His life was a cold sheet for reports in my hand and I felt a little sorry for him.
Ducasse came back into the office with a teletype sheet. ICO International had sent a list of every hotel and country that Ducasse had been in during the last year. There was also a list of-all the missions he had flown in the war, as well as all the one-day pleasure flights he had taken since then. ICO can produce the same list on anyone in Europe. I put the list next to a list of murders and felt my stomach knot up.
Ducasse looked at the two and let out a low laugh. "Looks like you hit it on the head. In each case he was no more than a hundred miles away. The way he drives he could cover that in an hour. From his file he seems to be the kind of freak that would kill in an ugly way. Waters, I think you've got an inborn talent for finding perverts."
"Ducasse!!!" I screamed at him, "shut your fucking mouth!" I wanted to cut his balls off and watch him bleed. "You're a bigger freak than he can ever hope to be. Why don't you go die?"
For the first time since I had met him, Ducasse acted like a human being. In a voice that was surprisingly soft and understanding he spoke. "Look, I know that this job can really get to you. The pressure is fantastic and we all have to do things we don't want to do. Let me run the rest of this through and I'll call you when I get a pattern. Go back to your hotel and get some sleep."
It was four hours later and twice as many brandies before I fell into bed. Drunk on the cheap drink I got very sick. After some time in the bathroom I was better. I lay down and tried to rest.
Drunk dreams played hell with me all night long. I saw Gorkoff coming at me with his steel propeller. I dreamed about Susan, and saw her running from Gorkoff who slashed at her as she ran. There were dreams about Gorkoff, Susan and me making love while a black queen stood by and watched. There were also dreams of bodies that had been ripped and chewed by some great machine with steel blades. I woke up feeling cold and dead. I cried myself back to sleep. The next morning I looked and felt like hell.
Ducasse called after I had been awake for about an hour. His mood was back to his normal gross self and he hit me with half a dozen insults before I had a chance to think.
The pattern seems to check out," he said, 'Tve sent the report in and they are going to look at it. There are some political points that they are going to have a problem with, but I think that we'll get the go ahead in a couple days. Look, why don't you take the next three days off and have some fun. I'll cover this end for you."
I told him that Fd think about it and hung up. There really wasn't anything I wanted to do but it would help to move around and keep busy. After a very light breakfast I went out for a walk.
Toward the middle of the day I ended up in the Vienna museum looking at the paintings. Most of what I saw failed to make any impression on my mind. It wasn't until I started to look at some of the things by Rembrandt that feeling moved back into me.
Rembrandt had the kind of eye that was able to capture the shadow side of all that he saw. His paintings pulled me in and I was in a world of darkness. I must have looked at those things for a couple of hours, my mind in just as much a fog as the obscurity of the things he painted. I left with the dark taste of something sick in my mouth.
There is a park across from the museum. I sat there and had a glass of German beer. Everything seemed flat and stale and I knew I was going through the same depression that hit when Susan died. I also knew that if I didn't snap out of it I was headed nowhere. I drank beer and forced myself back to my hotel.
I took a shower and put on my "work clothes", only it wasn't work I wanted. I'd give it away tonight,' just to get my mind off of what was happening.
I went to the outrageously expensive Palais Auersperg for dinner. I gorged myself including champagne and caviar. Afterwards I felt full and a hell of a lot better.
The night life in Austria doesn't start until around eleven and there was still an hour to kill before then. I took a walk around the Brun gardens and then caught a taxi to Die Heisse.
When I walked in, the place was packed. A jazz group was letting loose and the entire club had a mellow feel to it. I picked up a daiquiri at the bar and let the cool sound from the stage hit my ears. I was deep into the music when somebody touched my arm. I turned and saw the man who had told me I could find Helga at Chunga. He gave a short bow and smiled at me. Through almost perfect teeth he asked if I had found my "lover". I said she had left town. He pointed out that it is a shame to be alone and I agreed with him. We moved over to a side table and sat down.
We started to talk and soon I was sorry that I hadn't been a little nicer to him the last time. We talked about the three national pastimes in Austria: food, sex and the war. We also talked about ourselves. I gave him my usual actress cover story and he told me he worked for the American Embassy as a translator. He was a nice kind of guy who wasn't too exciting but also wasn't pushy. He was hopeful that there might be some action between us but he wasn't going to push his luck. We sat and talked until the bar shut down and he asked if I would care to continue drinking at his place.
He had a small apartment near my hotel and we sat there and drank for another hour before he suggested that we go to bed. He was waiting, I knew, for me to make the first move-Austrians are sometimes weird that way. This time, however, I just wanted to let someone else do all the work. I don't think he had an idea when we got to bed that I would be so passive. It shook him when I whispered in his ear, "Fuck me."
He had a little trouble getting an erection and I had to give him head to get it started. It was a handsome shaft and I guided it into my body. I closed my eyes and let the warm throb of him fill me. The slow rhythm of his lovemaking sent a needed thrill through my cunt and my nerves began to settle. I felt him explode his semen into my womb and I pulled him close to me. He almost looked shocked when it happened.
I pulled his cock out of me and pushed him on his back. I took his limp wet joint in my hand and rubbed it stiff. When I dropped my lips over the head he called out the name of some old Norse god. I could taste my own cunt mixed with the sweat and cum still on his cock. I swallowed him to the root. My lips touched the top of his balls and I kissed them. He moaned and jerked on the bed. He let loose again and my mouth was filled. It was as if I myself had come. I went to sleep with my lips touching his soft organ.
He was still asleep when I woke up. Leaving him a note that said I had gone to Paris and would call when I got back. I didn't want to hurt him and I knew that if I saw him again he would expect me to be the same because I had used him and he knew it. My need to be loved, to be held was great and he just happened to be there at the right time. If I saw him again he would start talking about living together. It was better for him to dream about what might have happened if I had called him back. This way we both got what we needed and nobody got hurt. Kissing his cheek I left.
I spent the next two days just being a tourist. I slept alone both nights and by the time Ducasse called I was feeling pretty good. He was in a hurry and didn't have time to be nasty. Paris had agreed with my findings and had a tail on Gorkoff. Due to his fame it had been planned not to pick him up until the end of next week. He had three major public appearances ahead of him and people would be extremely suspicious if he didn't show. As soon as the speaking season ended he would be picked up by the State Police and questioned about Helga Fernsprecht. From there ICO would take over and see what they could get from him. It was all very dry and official and some of the sickness moved in my stomach. I told Ducasse that I hope he rotted from the clap before I saw him again and hung up the phone.
I had a long slow cigarette and packed my bag. I called the airport and got a seat on the next flight to Amsterdam. My three weeks were up and there was a whole week of doing nothing but feeling good. I crushed out my cigarette and left for the airport.
Chapter III
The air around Amsterdam smells like a hot box on cold sheets. The soft salt odor of the city hit me as I got off the plane. It was early afternoon and I had seven days and nights ahead of me with nothing to do but forget Vienna. I made a few plans in my head that would shake everything that had happened out as the taxi drove toward my apartment.
Amsterdam is a riot on the streets. Bicycles outnumber cars about five to one and the streets are filled with people on two wheels. Around five at night it is impossible to drive when all the bikes are out. That's the time when I like to just stand around on the streets and watch the circus. Amsterdam is unlike any other city in the world and I love it.
I bounced up the stairs to my apartment and walked in. The place was just like I left it, which means that ICO was going to have to get me a new maid. The place hadn't been dusted and there were dirty dishes in the sink and the bed was a mess. I grabbed for the phone and called the maid's number. After a minute of hearing the phone buzz I hung up and looked at the apartment. I wasn't going to do much today but get this place cleaned up. While I dusted and mopped I thought about how nice it might be to have a lover that was the home type. That way I wouldn't have to worry about maid's taking off or coming back to a mess.
It would be nice but it is something that isn't going to happen for a long time. As much as I would like to have a lover that I could live with, it would be nearly impossible to find a man who would play housewife for a secret agent girl. And should I find such a man it would just be too unfair anyway. I'm gone at least three weeks out of the month. When I'm out on the job there is always the chance that I'll be killed. There is just too much danger of hurting somebody else so I live alone with very few ties to keep me down.
After about three hours of hot, hard work I have the place clean to the point that I could have someone over without looking like I live in a pig-pen. I pulled the last bottle of gin out of the icebox and sat down and let the cold liquid slide down my throat. I took out a cigarette and got to thinking about how to spend my week.
This time, I told myself I was going to get to some of the art museums that pepper the city of Amsterdam. In one place downtown there were more than two hundred paintings by Van Gogh and I had never been there. There are people who have lived in Amsterdam all their lives and never have seen them, but I made sure that I would have the time to get my box down there. One of the reasons I came to Europe was to be close to some of the great art of the world. There was no excuse for me not to get out and see some of the things that brought me to this place.
The problem with living in Europe is that it soon just becomes a place to live. After the newness wears off, you find that the city you're in is just a city and your mind is wrapped up in making money, getting laid and fucking off. You stop thinking of the city as a place where you live. It's a bad habit to have but it is the only way to function.
I took another puff and also told myself that I was going to get some letters off this week. Hell, half the people that I know must think I'm dead since I never write. Letters are dead things to me and I really don't like to write them. If it wasn't for the fact that my mother calls the Red Cross when I don't let her know I'm still alive, I'd never even send her a letter. The phone is just so much better than paper.
I went in, and filled the tub with hot water and plopped my cunt down. I picked up the cloth and scrubbed myself getting all the dirt and crud of the last three weeks off my body. I don't care how great the bathroom is in a hotel, the only place that I can really get clean is my own tub. I rubbed myself pink and stretched out in the tub and closed my eyes. When I woke up the water in the bath was almost opaque. My cunt itched from the water and the skin on my tits was as wrinkled as a morning bedsheet. I showered the residue off and jumped out cursing my habit of sleeping in the tub.
My stomach let me know that it was not only cold, but empty. Time to eat. I dressed, headed for a little cafe on Leidseplein. They do fantastic things to beef. The cafe was almost empty. I ate like a dog. With my stomach now filled with a half a pound of good steak and a bottle of wine I went out for a walk.
I saw whores of both sexes as I walked along the canal. Amsterdam is a wide open city and you can find whatever you need to turn you on. Sex and dope are big money in the town and the police really don't give a shit what goes on so long as you do it to yourself and not to other people. As long as you are cool about your trip, the cops will leave you alone.
My mind was feeling pretty loose and I found that I was walking toward the Wanda Club. I wasn't really sure if the Wanda offered the type of relaxation that I was looking for, but there was always something wild going on there. The Wanda is the toughest dyke bar in Holland. Anything goes there and I think there may be a house rule against saying "no" to any offer that comes your way. It isn't the kind of place you enter if you are stuck with one set of ideas. I stood out front for a moment then walked into the bar.
The inside was a mass of black leather. The seats, walls and even the ceiling were covered in black cowhide. Half of the patrons wear black "Vampirella" outfits and often look like ghost heads floating against the walls. Over the bar was a picture of Joan of Arc, covered in blood leading her crusade into a massacre. The walls were covered with maces, whips, swords and axes. The floor of the bar had a deep red rug covering it. During the war the Wanda Club had been the officer's mess for the SS troops. The only real change in the decor since that time had been the removal of the Nazi symbols. Otherwise the place was the same.
I walked over to the bar and ordered a gin. I looked around and saw a few of the patrons checking me out, looking hard at my chest to see if they could make out the outline of my nipples under the tight silk. I really wasn't dressed for the Wanda Club, but I pulled back my shoulders so my tits would thrust forward. From the looks I got, I could tell that a few girls were interested in me.
I usually don't go for the leather mistress/slave scene but every once in a while it can be a good experience. I've got no desire to have a broomstick *shoved up my twat, but there is a certain thrill in fighting for sex. I like to find a partner that doesn't mind some mutual rough action, as long as we both get what we want. Taking another woman by force, even when you know that's what she wants, gives me a charge. I like to work for what I get, work up a sweat and a hot pussy as I push her down on the floor and take her. I also like a woman who is able to take me with her physical power. The Wanda Gub is a good place to find women who like the same thing.
It wasn't long before a well shaped mass of black leather moved over to where I was standing. She was about two inches taller than me with a jagged scar on the right side of her face. Her blonde hair was short and there was no effort to cover the scar. From the fishy smell around her it was evident she also made no effort to bathe. Grime was caked around her fingernails. She looked at me and said in English, "Hey, you know what type of place this is?"
I answered by spitting in her face. I watched the saliva dribble down the side of her nose before I slapped her across the face. Before she could react I reached for her hair, but because it was so short I found my hands gripping her ears. I twisted till I brought her to her knees. Then I put my foot between her tits and kicked as hard as I could. She fell back to the floor. I picked up my gin and sipped it as two bouncers picked her up and carried her out of the bar. Looking around I saw that not many people had paid attention to the fight. Fights weren't anything new to the Wanda Club.
I really didn't need to be as rough as I had been, but now there was no doubt to the others as to where I was at. It had been fast and mean enough to show that I didn't fuck around. The next girl that was going to talk to me would have more than just a smelly twat. Unwashed slobs don't turn me on and the animal I had just cooled would have been a bore in bed. I was looking for a fighter, not a sack of shit I could kick all night.
My gin was half gone before anybody else walked over to me. This time I found myself looking at a woman and not some dropout from a grade B movie. She was about my height but her slimness made her look taller in the dim light. She moved with the steel-like gracefullness of a large killer cat. I could tell that she was solid and fast and that we might make an even match. She looked like the kind that can dictate and control every move her body makes with precision. I was getting interested.
"Hello," she said with a voice that was just as precise as her walk, "that was quite interesting. I know very few women that can move as fast as you. Your style denotes a great deal of experience. Hilda has lost some of her speed since she tore open her face and the side of her head on a motorcycle, but she can still take most."
My gut did a flip-flop. So the chick I had got had been a mental case. I had figured the scar to be a forget-me-not from an ex-lover and not the result of an accident. I felt pretty much like a low class shit and I guess my face showed it.
"Don't worry," she told me, "you've given Hilda enough thrills to keep her stroking herself for a week.
"She liked to get knocked around before she got her brains scrambled. I've often thought that her accident gave her the climax of her life." She waved for the bartender and said to me, "Can I buy you another gin?"
We sat in a corner booth and drank our drinks. She had ordered a beer for herself and she drank it straight from the bottle. She was even graceful when she stuck the neck of the bottle between her lips and drank.
"I used to be English," she said in a soft tight voice, "but I soon got tired of the stale life one leads in, a senile Empire. England has become an wrinkled old dyke who must diddle the twats of the stronger nations. I need to surround myself with vital raw conditions."
I ordered another round and she continued to talk. I said very little letting my silence draw more of her out. She was strange, very tense and cool. Her arm movements made me think of cobras. Yet, her eyes had a deep glow that told of some personal madness that filled her life. Her entire body reeked of cold danger and I felt my cunt grow tight at the thought of sex with this woman. We would be an even match and a good, physical bout with her would clear the rest of Vienna out of my system. Unless she happened to mention that she dug fucking inside the body of a freshly killed sheep or something else as freaky, I knew I would go home with her. .
She puffed on a slim black cigarette holder and kept talking. "I spent some time in Brazil, around Rio. The Brazilian dykes are a savage bunch of women and the life is rugged anyway. But most of them can't admit their love of women: it's too much of a macho culture. The only ones that come out are the truck driver types. I've no use for them. When I grew tired of South America I went to South Africa. Very wild and deadly in parts. I seem to feel a need for danger, to fight the edge of death. Tell me, Carol, do you find that odd?"
We had reached the first name point about three gins before and I told her, "No, Margo, it doesn't seem strange. I think that getting a thrill from danger is a very normal experience. I know that danger is a very sexual feeling if the danger comes from the proper source."
"And what," Margo asked with a new tenseness in her voice, "might be the proper kind of source?"
I looked straight at her and said, "Right now I think that source is you." I pushed my hand into the low neckline of her vest and squeezed her tit. I could feel the nipple harden under my fingers. She smiled at me and we quickly left the club.
We were silent during the cab ride to her place. I pushed up next to her body as best I could and felt the heat she was giving off. A corner of my mind started telling me that I was doing a stupid thing going home with her but I ignored it. There was a strong chance I might get hurt, that she was going to give me more than just a sex bout and I might end up dead but I really didn't think so. More than likely she knew the game I wanted and was willing to play by the rules.
Margo had a house, not an apartment. Seeing it confirmed my thoughts about her having money. It was large and rather new and there was an expensive sportscar in the drive. This looked like it was my week for rich partners. The house was set off the road and was the type of place that would be great for a party. There were trees around the place and plenty of room to run wild.
The inside of the house was not what I expected. Margo must have rented the place furnished or she had absolutely no taste. The rooms were like those in a Holiday Inn. They were cold and more than a little plastic. We walked through the main part of the house and then down a long hall to the back. Margo opened the door and I walked into a room that was more like what I expected her to have.
The walls were a rich brown wood and along them hung stuffed animal heads. The room was very large and the floor was covered with a thick, white shag rug. From where I stood, the bed looked to be covered with animal fur. There was a couch, a bed and a bar with nothing else to get in the way. Margo brought me a drink and we sat down on the couch. She sipped her beer and looked at me. She was waiting for me to make a move but I wanted her to make the first play. Holding her glass in both hands she started to talk.
"Have you ever seen a wild animal take a mate?" she said, "it is fantastic to watch the power and desire surge- through the body of an animal that knows what it wants. I've often thought about what the mate must feel, the sensations of being forced, of being raped and yet being strong enough to make the raper work and fight to get into your body. I think that such an experience might be most worthwile if the two animals were an even match."
As far as I was concerned it was time to stop the talk and start the action. I was getting more excited every second and my body would soon be yelling for satisfaction. There was a slow burn growing deep within my cunt and my body was getting ready to burst into flames. I reached out for her and said, "We're an even match."
She dodged my hand and sprang up. "Ahh, but we aren't animals, we are women," she said and moved out of my grabbing range.
"A woman," I told her as I got up and moved toward her body, "is an animal, a very wild animal that takes what she wants." I jumped for her but she moved out of range with great skill.
She moved out into the middle of the room and said two words: "Prove it."
I slipped off my vinyl jacket and moved toward her, my box aching beneath the black lace. My breathing was deep and my entire body was on a keen edge. She was fast but I was going to be a little faster.
I swung out and my nails left little marks on the inside Of her left tit. She countered with a punch to my middle that made me gasp. I was lucky that that jab didn't knock me on my ass. I was fighting an expert, somebody that could kill me and she knew she could do it. I hadn't expected a punch, but I returned it.
I slammed a fist into her chest and nearly crushed a nipple. I wanted to show her I could be just as tough as she. She started making defensive moves and I took the aggressive role.
I noticed what I had thought were candles on the bar had in fact been huge dildoes, one ivory white, the other jet black. Now it was a contest to see who would fuck whom. The straps of the dildoes hung over the side of the bar, but they were not within reaching distance of either of us.
But now I was in control of the situation. Each time she darted out of range. I took the time to get rid of another piece of my clothing. I was stripped down to nothing and my cunt was steaming. I had purposely made myself more vulnerable to tempt her closer. I knew that a well-placed kick could be almost fatal, but I enjoyed taking the chance.
She did a quick half turn and sent her foot straight for my box. I moved to the side and grabbed her leg and pulled up. She fell down and I was on top of her. I locked her arms behind her back and forced her face into the carpet. She tried to shake loose but the only way she could break the hold was to break one of her own arms.
We were near the bar now. I reached up my free hand and pulled down the massive black dildo. It was a tough manoeuvre strapping it on, but once in place, the ten inches was stiff and hard in front of me. I pulled down her slacks and could feel the heat from her cunt. I tickled her clit then pinched it hard. She let out a scream.
But it wasn't her cunt I was after. That would be too easy. I worked my finger into her asshole and found that hole to be tight and alive. I pulled my finger out and pushed the dildo toward her ass. It was smooth and dry. It was going to hurt her when I went in but that was part of the game.
The first two inches tore into her1 and she jerked and screamed at the top of her lungs. I worked my way into her with savage thrusts that pressed the dildo hard against my cunt. I had her almost rolled into a ball when I finally got all the way in. I ground the dildo into her, it became a weapon. I hit the inside of her body with my erotic billy club and the muscles of her ass snapped at the dildo.
I stood up and held her impaled on the thing like a fish on a spear. She shook and kicked but she couldn't break through. Slowly she began to relax and let the sensation flow over her. Somehow we made it to the bed. I was flat on top of her as she lay face down in the fur. She made soft sound in the deep of her throat and I bit the back of her neck. My passion broke free and I ripped her black halter off with my teeth. I sank my teeth into the tanned flesh of her back and tasted her blood as it flowed into my mouth.
I growled and roared and made savage sounds as my nails tore into her skin. My heart seemed to fill my entire chest and there was a red haze in front of my eyes. Ten million years of being a beast shot out of my genes and took control of my body. I sucked burning air into my lungs and my mouth was wet with the taste of blood. My entire body was starting to burn and sweat ran off my skin like rain. The friction of the dildo against my clit was too much. A volcano shuddered inside. I was coming like I never came before. My mind was reeling with joy as my cunt grew wet with animal juices.
I came and a bellow like that of an animal sounded in my throat. I was the Beast, the most primitive lioness yelling "FUCK YOU!" at the universe. The scent and spore of a million years of hunting hit my nose. The taste of hot flesh ripped from an animal killed in unarmed combat filled my mouth. The death light glow from a still living moon filled the Neanderthal Valley. I waited in my cave for a thousand generations of feeling my guts torn loose by a sabre toothed tiger and my body crushed to pulp to stain the feet of a hundred herds of mammoth beasts. I was the Amazon, the huntress, the serpent lover of Eve. I collapsed on Margo and sucked cold air down my dry throat.
I was still. Margo's body pressed mine and it quivered as her own climax faded from her. Half shadows rippled over my eyes and images slid down a fire-pole in the bottom of my brain. The volcano between my legs changed to a campfire and my entire body was warm. A lungful of air hissed through my lips and every muscle I owned went slack. It was a floating, sinking sensation and every nerve was on overtime. The half -woman/half -beast that had taken over my body was a very old friend. There had been many times that I had let the beast out and felt her run wild. Sometimes the sensation wasn't very strong and other times I had been knocked senseless. Still, as I thought back on them, as powerful as the sensations could be, they were nothing alongside the wonders that had racked my body with Gorkoff. That night in Vienna had brought forth another part of me. My feelings shot into the future instead of the past. Each direction was fantastic but there was no way that one could replace the other. I would continue to let the beast out from time to time and I hoped that I could recapture the something that happened in Austria. Perhaps both might someday happen at the same time with the same person.
I was drained, empty. I slipped my hand around Margo and closed my eyes. In the space of a few seconds I was asleep. I drifted off into a world where I was sometimes a woman and sometimes something with four legs and very sharp fangs. The dreams were very far away and I watched the entire scene through the wrong end of a telescope. I woke up when the handcuffs snapped around my wrists: My hands were behind my back and my legs were bound at the ankle. I tried to move but I had about as much luck as a snake on vaseline. Margo was off to the side of the room, her back to me.
"Hey," I called out, "what the fuck is going on?" I pulled on the cuffs but there was no-way I could get my hands free. I'd let myself relax to the point where I had made what might be a fatal mistake. I didn't know what was coming off, but it didn't feel very nice. I yelled at Margo and told her to take the fucking cuffs off and let me up.
She turned and stared at me with strange eyes. In her hand was a silver dildo I hadn't seen before. It seemed to be covered with flat steel plates, the straps hung from the end. Something very cold was growing in my body. There was sweat breaking out all over Margo and what looked like flecks of foam on her lips. She stood at the end of the bed and an insane grin flashed over her face.
"Well," she said, "You're awake. Sorry to get you so upset but now I get to have my fun."
She slammed the back of her hand across my face. The pain was sharp where her nails racked the skin. My hands pulled hard at the cuffs. She slapped again and I tasted my own blood.
"You weak pussy," she snapped at me. "I'll teach you to fuck me. I've seen you around before. You're a whore. A goddamn whore! You let men stick their disgusting hunks of meat into your body, don't you!" I was silent.
"You don't deserve to be a woman. You let yourself be fucked by something as lowly as a man and you think you're good enough to fuck me! I'm going to kill you and fuck your body to shreds. Your death won't destroy men, but you'll die in the name of womanhood!"
She burst into a fit of giggles and more fluid dripped down her lips. There was a very tight feeling in my bladder and I wanted to piss all over myself. Deep inside I was praying that this was just a very sick and ugly joke and that she would stop the bullshit and let me loose. If it wasn't a joke, I was dead.
She stopped her laughing and dropped her face down to mine. I looked hard at her and knew this wasn't a sick, sadistic joke. The eyes that I saw were insane, deeply insane. I was looking into the face of a mad freak that wanted to ram a two foot steel shaft up my cunt until I died. The back of my brain was calmly going insane and there were flashes of steel blades, steel cocks and steel coffins covered with my blood. I was going to walk into hell with a bloody cunt and not one fucking I.O.U. to show for it.
"You feel sick," her breath was foul in my face, "your gut has turned cold and your bladder is full. Your damn man-fucking cunt is ready to fall out and you could shit from fear. Feel it, feel what it's like to know you're going to die. Feel it and you'll know how I feel every second of the day. You'll die with puke in your mouth and a great deal of pain."
Her breathing was deep and jerky. While she talked she rubbed her cunt in ever increasing ecstacy. She stopped talking and looked down at her twat with a loving expression. She stroked it with one hand. She stroked harder and deeper, I could see her eyes look upwards as she approached her first climax. I tried to move away and she grabbed the back of my neck and held me. The stink of her body filled my lungs. She kneeled down over my face and ground her already wet pussy over my nose. I couldn't breathe and the smell was overpowering as her juices ran into my eyes. Bile rushed into my mouth and vomit spewed out onto the bed. She screamed and shoved my face into the puke. I heaved again, this time getting puke on her cunt. Margo jumped off the bed and threw a kick to the side of my head. I blacked out from the blow.
When I came to she was wiping her crotch with a towel. She saw me open my eyes and slapped me. The pain tore up the side of my face like a toothache. I could feel blood on my wrists where the cuffs had torn the skin. I couldn't feel anything in my feet except a dull throb. She picked up the metal dildo and held it six inches from my eyes.
Under better conditions I might have been able to admire the workmanship of the steel rod but all I could do was feel my cunt draw tight. Overlapping plates ran down the twenty four inches of the shaft. At the base was a large red plastic bar that looked like it could be pushed in.
Margo moved her finger to the bar and pushed it in. The metal plates sprang out at 90 degree angles. The edges were razor sharp and I saw how I was going to die.
"It is a very nice bit of work, don't you think?" She looked at it with pride and continued. "It was used by the Germans during the war. They found it very effective. I've never used it before but there is no season why it won't work as well for me as it did for the SS."
She pulled on the little bar and the blades went back to form the smooth shaft. She began to strap the thing to her body. "You see," she told me in a voice that sounded almost sane, "when the entire shaft has been inserted in your cunt, the bar will hit against the insides of your legs causing the steel plates to open inside your body. Everything will be sliced like an onion. When I enter again more tissue will be cut. The fewer strokes I make the longer it will take you to die. It's really a most effective method."
My mind was running at a fantastic speed. In the back of my skull was the start of a plan but I needed to stall for just a few seconds. She was ready to mount me when I turned my head and with as much control as possible asked her, "Wait, before you do this, there is something that I want to know. Don't I even get one last request?"
She stopped and then nodded her head up and down. Her eyes were glazed over and I doubt if she could even see me.
"Have you ever," I said as I moved my hands up my back, "killed anyone and sliced their tits off in the process." I had my arms moved up as far as I could. If I could do everything just right, I had a chance. If it didn't work then Carol Waters was a very dead woman.
"Sliced their tits off?" Margo answered, "God what a horrible thought. Tits are part of what makes women superior to men. Even a dead woman has a right to her breasts. Besides, you're the first woman I've ever killed. By the way, I hope that you understand that I've really got nothing against you as a person. You just happen to be the first man-fucker that I've been able to capture. Your death is to prove a point, that's all!" She pushed the first three inches of the rod in. It was cold and I wanted to scream.
She pushed in another two inches and I jerked my body and rolled over with my elbows as a brace. The rod slid first up and then quickly slipped out of my cunt. Margo fell to the side, a confused look over her already insane face. I propped my back with my elbows and drove both feet between her tits. The impact knocked her off the bed. I moved faster than I thought possible. I dropped my hands down past my ankles and pulled them out from under my feet. Now my hands were in front of me. While I was try- ing to undo my feet Margo rushed me. I bounced up using the bed as a trampoline. I brought my handcuffed wrists^down over Margo's face and she screamed and hit the wall. I fell to the floor and untied my feet. There was no feeling in them but I could walk. I ran/fell toward the bar and started looking for the key to the handcuffs. I had just found it when the door slammed.
I got one cuff off and went running toward the door. I threw it open and saw Margo running at the other end. I took after her, feeling and pain coming back to my legs. Blood flowed from the wounds on my wrists and my entire body was screaming with pain. Every step that I took shoved fire up and down my spine. Through the pain and shock I knew that I was alive, that I was able to move, to breathe, to just fucking be! There was no amount of pain that could hide that from me.
A sane person would have been able to get away from me. I was in a house that I didn't know and had no idea of the escape routes. Margo had lost touch and was operating with a logic only she understood. For some reason she ran to the main room of the house rather than trying to get away. I found her standing in front of the fireplace. She seemed to be sobbing.
"MARGO!" I yelled. She turned and her face was wet. She had taken the dildo off and was holding it next to her like a child. I wanted to run over and grind her face into the bricks. I wanted to kill, to hear her bones crunch under my hands. The beast in me was coming to the top. I wanted so much to just rip Margo apart for the hell she had put me through. There was so much pleasure that I could find in killing her but another part of my mind held me back. She was sick, her mind was torn and warped and killing her would do no good. I stood very still and called in a softer voice, "Margo."
Her mouth moved a couple of times before she was able to speak. When she did it was in a cracked horrible squeek. "Sorry ... horrible ... it really doesn't matter any longer ... nobody seemed to care ... long nights with nothing but dreams ... better like this."
She moved away and looked up at the ceiling. Her mouth opened and the most awful sound I had ever heard shot from her throat. "Oh sweet Mother of God," she cried, "HOW COULD MEN DO THIS?"
She swung the dildo up and pushed it down .her own throat. I reached her as the base slammed into her face. The blades sprang up and her blood sprayed over me. She fell to the floor. For the third time that night I threw up.
I think I was in shock for the next hour. Part of that time I cried for Margo, the rest of the time I cried for me. Things flashed around me during that hour and a lot of the shit of the last three years floated to the surface. A lot of what went on in that hour I've pushed out of my head. The one thing I can't get rid of is the sound of Margo yelling her last words. That sound will go with me to the grave.
After my head got back together to the point where I could function, my professional training took over. I made a search of the house and uncovered some interesting things. What I found was enough to make me want to run to the phone and call ICO. I checked myself and sat down to think the entire thing out.
From the papers in the house I knew that Margo had been Margo Randolph Smith, related to English royalty, and the supporter of two dozen movements that ranged from being kind to animals, to every Lesbian Feminist movement in Europe. Up until two years ago she had been just another eccentric Englishwoman. Then came a mental breakdown and a year in a Swiss clinic. Really not so strange a history for a lot of people but there was one thing that caught my attention: her passport.
Passports have stamps that show entry and exit dates and locations. I made the usual check of the passport just to see where she had been in the last year. I noticed a pattern that I knew well. Each time the ripper had struck, Margo was within a hundred miles of the scene. The last exit stamp she had was from Austria, the Vienna airport. She had left there for Amsterdam on the day after the murder. The same pattern as Gorkoff, the same areas, the same dates.
There were little holes that were nagging me as I looked at both suspects. Gorkoff had motive for one murder but not for all of them as far as I knew. He was in love with the idea of death and looked upon it as a personal god. Still, the messy kind of killing done by the ripper was not his style. Gorkoff was the type that would make a murder a work of fine art.
Margo also fit and then didn't. She was insane enough to commit a savage murder, and certainly seemed to hate prostitutes, but there was something wrong. She was horrified at the idea when I asked her about it. She had nothing to hide because she thought I was about to die.
These were small points perhaps. In other areas both were almost perfect suspects. They were both rich and they were insane. They had been in the right place at the right time and both were involved in bizarre ways with women. There were too many things that said yes to both, yet not enough to say no about either. There was one other factor that played into the picture: one of them was dead and could never be questioned.
If Gorkoff denied the charge, and he might, there was enough evidence to throw the plea in doubt. The damned thing about it was if he confessed to the crime there was also enough evidence to question that. Gorkoff was mad and might confess to a crime he didn't do for some strange reason that only he knew.
I had two people that were perfect suspects and one was dead and the other was crazy. I had a deep feeling I might never find out who the killer really was. My head was getting fucked up over this case and I didn't like it. I was also headed toward a point where I was going to make a choice of one over the other and I couldn't do it.
If the information I had on Margo was turned in, . that might get Gorkoff off the hook. That might also mean the killer would be free. I could withhold what I knew and Gorkoff had a strong chance of being found guilty. If that happened, then an innocent man might go to his death. I was going to get screwed in the mind with whatever choice and the screwing would be the same no matter which I took.
The sun was starting to come up and I had no idea whether or not Margo had day servants. I did a quick clean-up of the possible points where my fingerprints might show up. I wasn't really worried since it looked like suicide, but it never hurts to be careful. If my prints were found, that would force me into a choice and I wanted to make the choice under my own power. If I left no prints there would be no questions. I put back the stack of papers that represented Margo's life and after taking one more look at her cold nude body, walked out of the house and down the road toward the city.
The walk gave me more time to think and also some time to stop thinking. I looked at the houses, watched people on the streets and had a lot of coffee that I didn't finish. I walked through the market and went to a museum where I stared at a nameless dark painting by an unknown artist for an hour.
I went to a cafe and ate a meal that I forgot to taste and then sat around Vondel park for half the afternoon. After eight hours of thinking I was still unable to choose. I pulled a coin out and thought about flipping it. Heads meant I would talk and tails stood for silence. Not even that seemed like an answer and I started the long walk back to my apartment.
It had been less than twenty hours since I had gone out for a relaxing night. In those twenty hours I had become so messed up that it would be a year before I could straighten it all out. Some things take years to screw up and sometimes it can happen in a few hours. I was getting some deep thinking out of all of this and damn little else. Sometimes I wished everything would stop and there would be no future but if things were stopped that would probably mean death. Fuck it, just fuck the whole thing and let it rot.
I forced myself to run up the stairs to the apartment. Half way up I heard the phone ringing. It was still going when I opened the door. I picked it up and heard Ducasse's sour voice over the Vienna line.
"Hey cunt!" the phone barked, "start answering your fucking phone. Have you seen this afternoon's paper?"
Something that felt none too good started to creep through my stomach. "No, what's happened?"
Everything in my mind took a dive when he told me. "There was a car accident. A guard rail was knocked clean off a bridge in the alps. Gorkoff died in his car, crunched to nothing. Fold up your file on it; this is one case we'll never be sure about.
Ducasse didn't know how goddamned right he was at the moment.
Chapter Four
I decided to get and stay drunk for awhile. I also decided to help get my mind off it all by going back to the old profession. By hitting the streets again. I would descend to the depths to try to cleanse myself of the whole affair.
In the third afternoon of my moral purge I was working the streets near a dirty bar on the docks. I went in. The place reeked of sour bodies and stale beer but I was in no real condition to care. I poured very cheap Dutch gin down my throat. Nobody in the bar paid any attention to me, drunken whores were common in that part of the city. I was trying to build up enough strength to stagger on when I felt a hand on my breast.
The hand groped inside my blouse for a tit and it found the nipple. It continued to rub and I could feel the nipple harden. I looked for the owner of the hand and found myself looking at a toothless old man.
A badly placed wig could not hide the fact that he was old enough to have fucked my mother way before World War Two. If he had put his pecker in my mother then he must be at least seventy. He looked older. His eyes had sunk into his face and every inch of his skin seemed to be trying to drip off the bone. I could see a hundred lines of old age everywhere there was flesh.
The man continued to stroke my tit and he smiled at me. "You've got such nice tits," he said in Dutch. "You want to fuck me?"
I pushed his hand away from my nipple. He moved closer and the other hand went for my crotch and began to work its way under my panties.
"Come on" he said, the stench of his body hitting my half-numb nose, "I'll make you feel like a woman. You want me to eat you? I'll eat you till you scream. I'll eat you and fuck you and even pay you a little something." He ran his dry tongue over his lips and then opened and closed his mouth. "You see, I can eat very good. Come, I have a room in the back."
I was drunk to the point that I didn't know what to do. I had no desire to let this ugly old man do anything to my body. I tried to move away but he pressed his body to mine and his beard scraped my cheek. He had a finger deep in my cunt and my body had responded to the pressure. I mumbled at him in English to stop. He kept rubbing and trying to pull me by the cunt to his room. My cunt was getting wet and seemed to want to fuck with this old man. My head was also throbbing and the gin was starting to hit me with a wave of numbness. I was on the verge of passing out drunk. The only part of me that seemed alive was the soft hole between my legs. No one else in the place even bothered to look at us. Old men and drunken whores are nothing new or interesting.
I kept trying to push him away but he knew how to handle a drunk woman and get her to move. The room seemed to rock under my feet and the last load of gin was seeping into my brain. I started to fall forward and he pulled me into the room. I fell on the bed and swore at him in drunken English. "Get away you old prick. I don't want your cock in my pussy. You stink. Go fuck my mother. Go stick your wrinkled cock into her cunt. I don't want you. Get the fuck away."
He reacted like I was singing him a love song. I tried to get up but my body had turned to lead. The only strength I had left was in my cunt. He got undressed and there were thick blue lines down his hairless legs. His wrinkled cock flopped against his balls as he walked over to the bed. I tried one more time to get up and could only jerk the muscles of one arm. My stomach was rolling sick from the gin, the smell, and the wrinked man that was kneeling on the floor in front of the bed. I wanted to be sick and throw up on the bed. If I started to puke he might leave me alone. I was too drunk to move and too drunk to get sick. I shut my eyes and tried to pass out.
His voice sounded soft and cry far away. He was speaking Dutch and I understood most of what he said as he began to slowly unbutton my blouse. With trembling fingers he'removed it. Then he started on my pants.
He opened the top snap and slowly unzipped the front. He left my panties on at first.
"You are so beautiful," he said, as he stoked me through the lace, "I want you to get hot in your panties before I let you suck me. You look so much like the woman I loved. She was killed in the war and now I have you."
He pulled down my panties and thrust a finger into my cunt. I could see through bleary eyes that his old prick was beginning to rise, perhaps for the first time in twenty years. The guy had his tongue in my cunt now and the rough tissue of his tongue poked at it. I wanted to run but there was no feeling in my legs.
Slowly he revolved his body until his semi-hard cock was over my face. Somehow it found its way into my mouth. He licked deeper and pumped my face at the same time. I could feel his cock throb in my throat while his tongue played with my clit. I felt the few drops of his cum spurt down my throat. Just then I felt it in me. I couldn't help it. My twat tightened and grew wet. I came. The man saw what happened and started to laugh. He moved off me and kept laughing. I forced myself up and got dressed. The old man put on his clothes and stepped out to the bar. He told the others he had made me come and they all laughed. I pushed my way out, forgetting about any money. I went home to think.
I laid out a few basic things in my head and took a look. First thing on the list was to stop thinking about Gorkoff and Margo. It made no difference which was the killer. Both of them were dead and that was the end of it. The file wouldn't be closed on the killings for five years, but it would be noted that the prime suspect had died before being questioned. The case would become just another one in the files and not a ritual passage for some involved agent.
Number two on the list, and as important as the first, was the simple fact that most of the problems I had were cuased by my own fucking head. I needed something to set my mind free, to send a thrill up and down my body. I suddenly knew what I needed. I hopped out of bed and went to the phone.
Dawn Jackson does not keep regular hours and there was just as much a chance of finding her at home at seven in the morning as not. The phone rang three times and her musical voice chimed out of the ear piece.
Dawn is a connection to a long chain of supply lines. Anything that you need she can get. We talked for a few moments, telling stories and little jokes. I've often found her to be very useful and she has given me a list of phone numbers by which she can always be contacted. I was still lucky to find her in Amsterdam. I told her what I wanted and she gave me a small laugh and asked me what time I would like to have my request fulfilled. I told her and then we talked price for a while and everything was fine. I hung up and sat down to wait for my order.
About an hour later there was a knock at the door. I opened it and looked at a male and female set of twins about sixteen. They were almost identical. Except for the fact tht the girl had budding young breasts and the boy a strong muscular chest, they looked almost exactly alike. They smiled at me at the same time and the boy said with a Danish accent, "You called Dawn Jackson for us?" They walked into the room and I shut the door. Both of them moved with a soft style that forewarned me of how they would be in bed. They were just what I wanted.
I offered them some coffee and the three of us sat down. They did not, and this is a little strange for Danes, speak much English. While we talked I took some money out of my purse and laid it on the table. The boy picked it up and put it in his pocket without counting it; no one ever tries to shortchange Dawn Jackson.
While we sat, the boy, who was on my right, reached over and put his hand on my breast. The nipple responded and was hard under the folds of my robe. He continued to stroke me and shivers of pleasure traveled through my body. I felt another hand go to my crotch. The girl on my right had poked a finger into my snatch.
The three of us walked into the bedroom and my entire body was throbbing with the thought of what was to come. Both of them were lovely and both were professional. Since it has been my job to sell sex, I see nothing wrong with buying it on occasion. I can't see paying just to get laid, that shows a lack of style. To buy a service that can't usually be found is something else. The chances of picking up a matched set of twin's on the street is very small. The chances that they are also lovely and talented are even less and since the chance of getting it for free is so small, I can see nothing wrong with paying for it. Something rare and unusual like the twins is something that I don't mind paying for, any more than I mind paying for any other rare service.
I laid back on the bed and the two right hands slipped from my body. With a quick look to make sure I approved, both twins stripped in front of me. Their bodies were as perfect as their faces. Both had not a scar or mark on the pale skin. Their pubic hair was the same soft shade of gold as the hair on their heads. The boy still had his foreskin and the end of his cock poked through slightly. The girls breasts were small and firm, just sprouting free of the bonds of childhood. They looked at me with deep blue eyes and I nodded to let them know that I liked what I saw. They moved over to the bed and began to earn their fee.
Dawn has a rule that you never ask names of anyone that she sends you. Likewise, the people that work for her know better than to ask a client for a name. It may seem a little cold, but that is how she likes to play the game. In her business, the only name that anyone knows is Dawn. I have a strong feeling that isn't her real name but it doesn't matter. I could care less about the names of these two since even if I knew, the only way that I could ever contact them would be through Dawn. It is just one of the rules that must be lived with. I felt the first movement of a concert for Two Mouths and Four Hands warm the air around my cunt. One hand tickled my clit while the other cupped a breast. A third hand began to explore my asshole and the fourth crept up my body to my other tit. Then one pair of lips began to nibble at my lower lips. The other set of lips moved up to my right nipple and danced around the tip. I let myself enjoy the sensations and did not move. When I looked down I could see the top of two blond heads. A hot wave of passion began to move in my stomach.
The girl nibbled and slurped into my cunt while the boy sucked hard on a breast. Someone's firm finger pushed deep into my ass and I could feel the muscles clamp in pleasure. The boy was tonguing my tit. He now snaked his tongue down my body until his lips joined those of the girl in my cunt. A shock of lust poured through me as two tongues both touched the clit at the same time. The tongues changed to lips and teeth and I shook with pleasure. My body began to jump and turn as the two mouths sucked and licked me. I could feel a shuddering orgasm build inside me, but the pressure lessened. They wanted to prolong the pleasure as much as possible.
I looked down and could see the stiff young cock of the boy against the bedsheet. I wanted that cock.
J wanted that boy inside to erase the taste and horror of the old man. I would wait, though; what was happening now was enough pleasure.
One pair of lips left my twat and started down the inside of my leg. A tongue shot out and rubbed the inside of my knee and tingles spread out from the touch. The lips continued to march downward and I felt my slippers removed and a hot mouth cover my toes. A wet tongue snaked out and rubbed each toe.
This time it was the female lips which began to work upwards. They first stopped at my navel. They were wet and excited. They crawled over my stomach and up my chest. The girl's lips reached out and kissed my nipples and then moved up to the side of my neck. There were two hands playing games with my cunt and a finger still moving up my ass. It was wonderful and a mad sensual feeling swept over me.
I gulped in as the girl's damp mouth found and covered my ear. Hands raced over me and there were lips at my head and lips at my feet. The strong smell of excited bodies touched my nose and I could feel the sweat of three bodies running together. I reached for the boy's hard cock and pulled back the skin. He let go of my toe and let out a small moan. I moved my hand and the prick I held began to grow and throb. The mouth sucked harder. I reached down and inserted a finger into the girl who was licking my ear. She too groaned. Her mouth sucked harder on my ear and I felt her body shake. The lips on my feet began to move upward. The blond girl stopped him and reached over to where I was pumping the cock of her brother. She pushed my hand gently away and took his cock into her mouth. She moved her mouth down and the wet lips touched the tip of my hand as I grasped the bottom of his hard shaft.
The brother buried his face deep into my cunt. Our passion rose together. Suddenly the brother withdrew from his sister's mouth. But it was too late. Spurts of cum washed her face and dribbled down the side of her nose onto my chest. I knew that wasn't the end. I wanted him to come inside me. He was a professional and once was not enough.
The three of us laid still for a moment and then there were hands back on my cunt, rubbing softly. Hot air hit my box again as they moved closer to it and there were two tongues again at play with my clit. My body jerked with the sensation and my in-sides grew tight. The two licked and bit and sucked. I pushed up on my elbows to watch.
Suddenly I went dizzy, I yelled in ecstacy as my cunt dripped from joy. I fell back on the bed, drained of power ... but only for a moment. The twins moved down from my cunt and the tip of a tongue darted into the crack of my ass. It was the girl. I spread my legs further and part of the tongue slipped into me. I called for the boy and he turned so that I could stick him back to hardness.
The tongue in my ass and the cock in my mouth were so incredibly sensual that I could feel myself getting hot again. The tongue moved faster and I began to suck harder as the waves of sensation flowed into my body. I opened my mouth before it was too late and motioned for the boy to enter me. His hand dropped down to my cunt and he touched it gently. He slid a finger into my body and smiled. I pulled him close and kissed him on the lips. The girl was now at my side gently sucking on a tit. The boy climbed on top of me and pressed close. I raised my legs and wrapped my arms around him. His sister went to suck his cock and. cover it with spit.
She guided it toward the target and it pushed against my hot throbbing cunt. He threw his weight forward and the head of his organ slid in. I rose up thrusting my hips upwards. The entire organ slid into me. He bent over and sucked my lips. He shoved forward and pulled out until only the head was in, then he pushed back hard. His sister had crawled behind him and had her face buried between the cheeks of his ass as he pumped.
He continued to push and pull his cock in and out of my body. I could sense that his sister had moved lower now and was licking at my asshole as her brother pumped in me. The three of us moved like this was the only way that we ever made love. We rocked on the bed, cock in cunt, ass in mouth, mouth in mouth with a skill that blew my mind. These two might only be sixteen but they knew what to do. We continued to move until he was unable to hold back the flood in his groin. I was on the verge and coming. COMING! He too let loose and filled my boiling box with hot cum. I let out a small yell and the girl drove her tongue deeper into my asshole. Then the three of us fell in exhausted ecstacy.
We lay on the bed and didn't move. My body was still feeling the joy of a good climax and wanted to stay still. The sex hadn't done that much for my head but that wasn't the reason I was doing this. The last few weeks had been filled with sex that was overloaded with mental reactions. What I wanted this time was just some good, clean fucking that wouldn't mess up my mind. Being in bed with two people that were getting paid to screw and knew better than to lay a bad fuck on me was just what I needed. I moved away from the wet body and propped myself at the head of the bed and looked down at the two young and sensual bodies I had rented for the day.
After a moment one of them started to suck on my dripping cunt. I pushed her back. I'd had all I could take, at least for the moment. That is all there was to it.
They looked at me and acted like they didn't know what to do next. Dawn had told them that they would be here for at least twenty-four hours and I guess they thought they should give me every second of that time. In very slow Dutch I told them to do whatever they wanted to while I watched and got up enough power to rejoin them. After going over it a few times they got the idea and nodded that they understood. I leaned back as they started to give me a show of what they could do.
Some people don't like to watch others have sex but I really dig it. Hell, sometimes it's all you feel like doing. Anyway, the sight of other people doing it really turns me on. I don't care for orgies and public sex myself. Sex, even when it has been paid for is a wonderful thing. Looking at sex is almost as good, although it will never replace getting in there and doing it yourself. I don't go out of my way to watch other people and I don't get very much excitement out of looking at films, but still, it does turn me on at times.
The twins got off the bed and stood facing each other. Their young bodies were glowing with sweat and the boy's hard cock throbbing in anticipation. Looking at him from a distance I noticed it was larger than I had first thought. Brother and sister reached for each other's crotch and started to stroke. The sight of two such beautiful kids sent a tight thrill up my pussy. They continued to caress each other and then they did something that made me sit up and look with deep and excited interest.
The girl stepped back and went into a handstand, her legs shooting straight up into the air. After she was balanced, the boy walked around and wrapped his arms around her waist. The girl lifted her hands off the floor and began to pull herself up her brother's legs. The brother helped pull her up until she had his cock in her mouth and his mouth was munching away at her muff. It was really fantastic, an upright sixty-nine, a vertical mutual munch that took a great deal of skill. This was like something that you find in a book and it was being done in front of me. I guess it really didn't take a great deal of talent but it looked so impressive. My cunt itched at the sight.
They stood in the middle of the room and ate away at each other. Their faces turned red and they began to sway. I got out of bed and moved over to them. They had their eyes closed and from the way their faces looked I knew this was a thrilling thing for them. I walked behind the standing brother and reached between his legs to play with his balls. He sighed. Then I pried my way between them such that I was facing the girl.
The brother slid into me from behind. His long cock hitting my sensitive points. I licked the cunt directly "under my nose, forcing my tongue deep into her slot.
We kept our topsy-turvy conga line going for about three minutes and then the standing brother suddenly let loose a torrent of cum into my cunt. His knees went weak and we fell onto the floor. To my amazement, it took only a little sucking till he was hard again. I got out of the way.
The brother lay flat on his back. Sister sucked on him for awhile then she brought her leg over his body and guided his cock into her. The brother pushed up and sister rode him like a bronco. I was panting with her as she gasped at each thrust. I ran my own fingers over my empty snatch as I watched. He was heaving harder now and the sister was looking toward the ceiling about to faint from ecstasy. The brother grunted heavily and his blond head pushed against the carpet. I could see drops of cum dribble from beneath the girl's young cunt.
We spent the afternoon doing wild, sexual things that opened up every pleasure center in my body. One person is often able to do fantastic things in bed; two people with a lot of drive can really get things moving. However, upder the right conditions, three people can do things that are insane and fantastic. That was what happened in my apartment. By the time the sun had set I was ready to drop. My entire body felt clean and free of all the shit that had come down on me. My mind was loose and for the first time in one hell of a long while I felt like a real human being. I told the two there was no need for them to spend the night and sent them back to wherever Dawn keeps them. I went in and took a long, hot bath.
After dinner I called the local office and told them to find me a maid. I also told them to make sure that she was better than my last one. I then hopped into bed and while thinking about how wonderful the evening had been I fell asleep and didn't have one dream the entire night.
Chapter Five
The shrill report of the telephone cut through the dark room. I turned on the light and reached for the phone hoping it was a wrong number. I picked it up realizing that it was the ICO line. "Amsterdam Agent six dash oh" I said.
"Agent Waters, please stand by for contact with Paris." The voice was distant and a bit bored. I heard a series of clicks and touch tones then came Ducasse's rough voice.
"Waters," he said, "get packed. I want you in this office as soon as possible. Confirm."
"I understand," I said, "Report to Paris this morning ICO main office. What the hell happened?"
"It seems that your case hasn't ended," I heard the awful voice tell me. "Gorkoff was not the man we wanted. Berlin has just reported a murder that has all the trademarks of the lunatic you've spent the last three years trying to track down. Lab reports show that it is the same killer and not just someone using the same method. Get off this phone and get the fuck on a plane." The phone clicked and my brain went into high gear.
Gorkoff hadn't been the killer and that also meant that Margo had been innocent. The killer was still loose and in my own way I had added two more victims to his list.
Ducasse was tense when I walked into his office the next morning. He handed me a report sheet and rang out for coffee. There was no mistake that this was the work of the same person. Everything checked out down to the composition of the steel filings left in the victims wounds. I read the report three times to make sure that it sank in.
I put down the report and looked at Ducasse. "Is this all," I asked, "or is there more to come?"
"More," he said. "There were some symbols drawn in blood on the body and the walls. There were also some bits of melted black wax and chicken blood found on the floor. We have a good idea what it all means but research is running stuff through the computer."
Just then a technician arrived with a printout sheet. Ducasse looked at it. It appeared that his suspicions were confirmed.
"The computer seems to think we've got a case of witchcraft on our hands." I looked at him with mild surprise and he continued. "The markings on the wall and body are occult symbols and both black wax and chicken blood are used in Voodoo to cast spells. That is just about all they can tell us. There is a name listed on the read-out sheet that I want you to check. He is listed as an expert in occult matters. Pull his file and talk to him as soon as you can. I want to know just what those damn symbols mean."
The file on Zacherly Rondini hadn't given me very much to go on. He was listed in the odd-ball section and there was a note that he might be a con man. He ran a place on the edge of the city called the Church of the Inner Mounting Flame. Most of his students were rich, female and old enough to the point where being stupid took up much of their time. The file showed that Rondini had once served a tour of duty in the American Army and that his real name was Guiseppi Eric Goldberg. It was little wonder that he had changed his name to something that wasn't a mixture of three different ethnic groups. I took a cab out to his place.
The door was open and I walked into a room that was solid black from top to bottom. A lone taper burned on the top of a polished human skull. There were two chairs in the room facing each other. I sat down and waited for something to happen. I heard a gong and a black-robed man stepped into the room. He had no hair on his face or head. His eyebrows were shaved and he looked a little like a penis with ears. He sat down in the other chair and bugged out his eyes at me.
"AAGAAHGAH," he intoned with a sigh that hinted of New York City, "you have come to see the Great Rondini and beg him to open the dark and awful secrets of the greater soul. You desire to know the truth of the Inner Mounting Flame and become unlike the base animal from whence you sprang and rise instead to speak with the Great Lost Giants of Time Passed."
I was getting a little turned off by his sales pitch; lost races and all his other bullshit were a bit much to take at this time of the morning. I focused in on his round face and broke into his come-on.
"Look, if you don't mind I'd just like to get some information. I'm making a horror movie. I will play the vanquished herione and I want to get a feel for the part. I wanted to check out some details with you. Everybody says that you know more about it then anyone else. If you can help me I'll make sure you get screen credit."
His close-set eyes flashed and he leaned toward me. "Yes, it is written that he who seeks the wise one will become a wise one. For screen credit in large type I am willing to help. May I see what you have?"
"Rondini dahling," I said in my best Hollywood style, "I'll make sure you get an entire frame card all to yourself. Big letters and in red and black, your name and address and maybe even a drawing of you. Can you groove to that?"
He took the bait and soon the information would flow from him like a river. I had touched his ego and he was willing to.[Jo anything to get a little more fame. He studied the drawing and the description of the murder scene that I had re-typed to look like part of a film script. After a few moments of what he was trying to make me think was deep thought, he spoke like he had just spent the last three weeks in bed with Satan's wife under him.
" Weeeel, you have made some dire mistakes here. The symbols are right and so is the use of chicken blood and black wax. However, they do not mix and any spell cast like this would fail. The spells that are indicated here are used to cast a soul into Hell, a most evil desire. Someone who knew about the craft would never mix things like this. I think that your writer has no knowledge of the Occult. Even the rankest student knows better than to mix the spells of two different origins together. Is this a movie for children?" "Yes, blood and death still do wild box office biz with the under thirteen set." I had what I wanted from him. The witch-craft addition to the crime had been put there to lead us off the track. The killer obviously didn't know his ass from a black mass when it came to witchcraft. He was insane, but he wasn't stupid. I started to leave but my evil doctor called me back.
"Many women in Hollywood have to... er... do certain things to become stars. Is that not true?" he said. He leered as he spoke. "I mean do a lot of women still fuck producers and directors for parts?"
"Sure, it's a fact of business. Everybody gets fucked in Hollywood. They even have to fuck their way into church films." I was inwardly chuckling as I spoke and really playing the part. "Sure," I continued, "there's even lots of guys that had to screw leading ladies to get parts as busboys." To say that, however, had been a mistake.
He leered at me and went on. "Have you ever let somebody fuck you for a part. If you found a guy that could make your pussy do tricks, would you get him into one of your films?"
"I might," I said, "he'd also need to be able to act. Hollywood is filled with fuckers but damn few of them can act." I wondered what kind of kick this guy got talking about fucking.
"I am, as you well know," he said with sweat on his brow, "a very good actor. According to a great number of my students I also am great when it comes to fucking. If I lipped my cock up your cunt would you put me in a film?"
I started to laugh and then stopped. He was shaking all over and reached down to open his fly. He pulled out his fat cock and I saw it throb into full standing position. He really wanted to fuck me and I didn't think he was after a part in a movie. He was hot for my cunt and I was getting very cold toward his cock. I stood up to leave and his plump hand went for the top of my slacks. He threw his body around my hips and pushed me to the wall.
He started dry humping me, pushing his cock up against the front of my slacks. He undid the top snap and pulled down my zipper. I tried to push him away, but he was stronger than I had thought. His hand shot down and he rubbed my cunt through my panties.
"Please," he begged, "I want that cunt. I want to fuck you hard. I need to feel a woman's pussy to fill up with my cum. I don't want a part in the films, I just want some cunt. Some young cunt. All my students are old ladies with dry cunts and bad breath. It is nothing to fuck them. I need some real cunt from a real woman. Please." The last word came out as a whine and I could see him weakening. I tossed him to the side of the room, zipped up my pants and made for the door. He ran after me but couldn't get to me in time. I drove off in the taxi I had waiting for me and left him behind.
I took a night flight to Berlin and was unpleasantly surprised to find myself met by Ducasse. He was in his usual ill mood and managed to insult me, my family and any dog I ever owned at least three times before we got to the hotel. I blew him a kiss as he drove off into the Berlin traffic.
I checked into my room and went over the reports the Ducasse had given me. The background on the victim followed all the rest. She was a hustler, young, high-priced and rather new to the city. She had last been seen with somebody no one really looked at since they were all looking at her, and had been found the next morning by three children that went out to play in the old house where the killing had taken place. It was the usual collection of dead ends and I knew that I was never going to get any closer to the killer unless I changed my methods. I dropped in bed with the seed of a plan in the back of my mind.
By the time I was awake the plan was finished and after thinking it out again I couldn't see how it could be any less effective than what I was now doing. I got on the phone and called Ducasse and gave him an outline. He ranted about my canine parents and told me that all whores were stupid from fucking too many strangers. He stopped to take a breath and I asked if fucking strangers was what gave his wife her blank look. The phone clicked and the line was dead.
Despite what Ducasse thought about my plan it had just as much a chance as anything else. What I wanted to do was go undercover using my hustler's talents to find the killer. I had a very rough idea of what to look for and if I made the hustler's route of cities I could find out more. There must have been some people that had turned the killer down and would know what his style was like. There was a chance that I might even be approached by the killer. I didn't know what I would do in that case but at least I was trained to handle difficult situations. Perhaps that was best, to try and bait the killer into coming after me.
I went to the Kudam, Berlin's giant shopping street and bought the most obvious hustler's clothes. I came back three hours later with four boxes of clothing. I stood in front of the mirror and tried on each piece and looked at myself with a very critical eye. I had picked up three pairs of skin tight white bellbottoms, with flesh-showing laces at the sides. At an overpriced shop I found some vinyl shirts also with laces, that left a very large open space in the middle. The edges of the shirts just covered each nipple letting everything else show. I put on the most garish red lipstick and bleached my hair from its natural blonde to a trashy platinum/white. Within two hours I was looking into the reflected face of Ms. International Whore. In a way I really looked good and I snuggled up to the mirror and gave my reflection a kiss. I went out of the hotel by the back door.
I had the address of the bar where the last victim had worked her trade. It was a very plush place in Wedding, Berlin's ritzy area. Drinks start at about 10 marks or about four American dollars. I walked in like I owned the place and the waiters acted like I really did. In a flash I had a center table and a drink. I was the new body in town and they were going to show me off to everyone that walked in. That was what I had hoped would happen and I acted like it was the most natural thing in the world.
It was still early and only a few people were in the bar, most of them hustlers. After I had sipped through half my drink, a beautiful young woman moved away from the wall she had been leaning against and stopped in front of my table. She was tall and looked a bit Scandinavian, with blonde hair (natural) and steel blue eyes. From the way she was dressed it looked like we had the same tailor. The laces of her slacks and blouse revealed a lot that was to my liking. I glanced around the room and counted at least five more widely revealed cleavages. I had the right uniform and there would be no doubt what I was doing there. The young woman in front of me must have been the local welcome wagon. I looked up at her and gave a medium friendly smile that didn't communicate very much but looked nice. She sat down and leaned over toward me. I could just about see the spot where her breast darkened into a full rich nipple.
"Hello, you're new here aren't you?" Her voice was very soft and her lips were almost perfect in shape. "My name is Cindy and I've been around here for some time. I'm from the States originally."
I gave her a nice grin and waved the waiter over and ordered us drinks. I finished the last bit in my first glass and looked right at Cindy with a deep intense glow, "My name is Carol and I am new here and I'm also from the States. Now that we have that out of the way, why don't you tell me when the action starts around this place. So far all I can see in here are working girls like myself."
"What type of action are you looking for?" She was a little put off by my bluntness but she wasn't ready to leave the table over it. My hand moved over the top of the table and touched hers and I told her what I wanted.
"Action that pays off in fun and money." I leaned closer to her and dropped down to a lower tone. "Look, I'm out on my ass and there is no chance that my sugar daddy will take me back. I've got enough money for about one week before it is time to start fucking winos for enough money to buy food. I'd much rather fuck some nice old man in a soft bed than to scrap my ass in an alley. Now do you know what I'm after?"
"Yeah," she said, "I can see it. You're where I was at last year. Look, there are more than enough old men with fat cocks to keep us all going strong for years. If you stick around here and people like you there won't be any alleyway in your future. If you want, I'll show you around."
I found myself starting to dig this kid. She knew what was going on and also knew there was no need to be greedy. We sat at the table and talked for about an hour. She told me what the going price was in Berlin and how much could be tacked on for special service duty. An all night trick that was only sucking and fucking was worth between twenty and thirty dollars. If the John wanted to do something unusual the price started to go up. If you handled the trick right it was very easy to turn him for a hundred or so bucks by doing things to him that you usually did for fun with a lover. The orgy rate was a flat one hundred and fifty dollars per night and most everything went. I asked Cindy where the big money was, about the Johns that had tastes so way-out that only money could get people to join them in bed. She was silent for a moment and then told me.
"The scene that really brings the money," she said, "is the bondage thing. If you can dig it you can turn three hundred a night. Most of us don't go for that bit though and don't really care for the people who dig it."
"Shit," I told her, "for three hundred bucks I'd whip my own mother. What's wrong with beating some old man if he digs it?"
"No, I'm afraid you've got it wrong." She looked right at me. "For the three hundred you let yourself get beaten, ya see? The guys that pay that money want somebody who doesn't mind getting hurt. The best thing to do is just stay clear of that kind of trip. There was one guy that picked up a girl here two nights ago and I think she really got hurt. The bulte, the cops, were in asking questions about her last night. I wanted to say something but I didn't, I don't want to screw up my friends with the cops. Still I wish I knew what happened to Gina, she left with a very strange looking guy that seemed, well, evil." I had done it again. Gina was the first name of the victim and this was the last place she had been seen. Cindy had gotten a good look at the man she was with. If I could get her to tell me some more, I would be all right. I had to pull some more information out of her.
"What did this trick look like?" I asked. "I want to know so I can stay clear of him. Hate to ruin my bod for a few bills."
"Like I said he looks sort of evil. Physically I guess that he's-" Her reply was cut short by the blast of a Mercedes horn from outside. She looked at the car and stood up.
"Got to split," she told me. "A big trick is here and I don't want to keep this one waiting." She was out of the bar and gone before I had a chance to get an answer. I was right at the point of getting somewhere when my hopes shot off in a big black Mercedes. Cindy seemed to be a regular of the place and I hoped to talk with her later. I ordered another round and waited for something to happen. Nothing did.
I went back to my hotel, taking the U-Bahn, the Berlin subway. I should have walked since it looks like the people who planned the subways were the same ones who designed the Italian catacombs. After a lost hour and a half I finally got to the hotel. I slept soundly. The next night I returned to the club.
There was no sign of Cindy when I got there, and I asked one of the girls I had met last night if she was around. She told me that Cindy and her trick had gone to Paris and would not be back for days. She also said that no one knew the name of Cindy's lover and that there was no way to contact them. Even with the staff of ICO, looking for them was a long shot. If I had more information on the car and Cindy, I could put in-a call but there wasn't enough to work on. I marked her information for hold and got to talking with some of the other hustlers in the place.
I wasn't able to get very much from any one person, but after talking with several people I had a very rough idea of what the killer might look like, if Gina had left with the killer.
I was looking for someone that was normal height, dressed well but not outstanding, had no particular color of hair or skin and spoke in a voice that no one heard. Everyone I talked with had seen Gina leave with this guy and no one had seen her since. I had told them that Gina was a former girl friend of mine and they talked freely about her. I had a total zero for a description with two exceptions: Cindy had told me that he walked like a cat. It wasn't much but it was all I had. I was closer than before but not yet close enough.
The buying patrons started to drift into the place and I got ready to do my best. It was time I let my old self out into the world and I might as well start right now. The only way the killer and I would meet was for a big hunk of bait to be put on the hook. I was the hook and my hooker talents were going to be the best bait since worms.
Chapter Six
I hustled my ass like a pro and told people that hustling in the west should hold the same status that the Geisha held in Japan. A hustler was a creative artist and should be treated as such. I had my choice of bed mates and the ones I took offered me money and clothing in the morning. My fame grew throughout the "right" Berlin circles.
I was told there would be a dinner in my honor at night and a party afterwards. I was to be ready at seven and would be picked up at my hotel at seven-thirty. The dinner was classic and I enjoyed every second of it. While at the table I noticed a man who seemed to have an air of distaste about him like he was looking at something dirty. When we left the table and started for the main hall of the house I saw that he moved with a gracefulness that was catlike. His body type was close enough to match what I knew of the killer and what I remembered of that horrible day three years ago ... but then so were the bodies of twenty other men in the room. Still, I made a note to keep an eye on him and find out his name.
The party turned into a wild thing soon after dinner and everyone seemed out to impress me with as much noise as possible. There was drinking and singing and all the usual things that mark a party of Germans. As the night began to age and the people grew younger with drink, sex started to enter the party. A pat on the back took a drop of sixteen inches and handshakes started to take place in places other than hands. A confidential whisper became a tongue in the ear and clothing began to fall from bodies. The host yelled out that the air conditioners were kaput and that everyone should feel free to strip down to the buff. In the space of a minute the room was filled with fifty nude, nordic bodies from the age of sixteen up to forty. I stripped out of my own clothing and the inside of my cunt grew hot. Lovers and others began to caress each other and thirty pricks seemed to harden at once. I was getting hot and I made up my mind to enjoy this night. Fingers touched my hard nipples and lips nibbled between my legs.
I looked down to see a girl of about eighteen push her head between my legs. I put my hands on her head and guided her nose deep into my curly cunt hair. The tip of her tongue touched my clit and saliva dripped down the inside of my leg. She worked her mouth around in such a way that I knew I wasn't the first twat she'd eaten. I closed my eyes and stood with my hips jutting forward. At the back of my knee I could feel another tongue touch and then march upwards to my asshole. The wet form pushed back the rounded skin and danced down the narrow crack and touched the muscled rim at the bottom, A third tongue touched me and then a fourth and a fifth. A prick tickled each of my palms and I closed my fists around them and began pumping. I could smell the odor of hot men and women around me and soon more and more tongues and lips touched and licked at me.
Every space, every part of me seemed to be crawling with tongues. They inched over my standing form like a hundred erotic worms that thought me an apple. Three of these creatures were in my cunt, and two more in my asshole. I was rising to such a pitch I pumped harder and more furiously at each of the pricks in my hands. I soon felt them throb and I turned and aimed them at the face of the beautiful girl who was the first to offer me her tongue. She left my twat in time to catch the first spurts on her tongue, the other missing and falling down over her face and breasts. It was as if I too had come and I went slack. I was lowered and placed on the floor. I drew the musk air into my lungs and there was an almost painful throbbing in my cunt. I forced my eyes open and saw forms dropping down around me. Everyplace I looked were hot boxes and stiff pricks each ready for the other. My mind reeled and I leaned back to feel new sensations. This time it was cocks and not tongues. I took two of them in my hands and pressed them to my face. Two stiff points passed through my lips and I loved two men with a single tongue. My aching empty box was soon filled with another throbbing prick. My asshole too was not long left empty. Someone had climbed under me and as I lay on top of him he inserted his cock into my now filled asshole. Blunt, wet lances attacked my ears and eyes. I freed one hand and reached out. A young woman immediately placed its moving fingers against her cunt and I had another new toy to play with. I felt the twin cocks in my mouth pump almost simultaneously and both then spurted their hot sour cum down my throat together. They withdrew to be replaced by the girl who was at my hand. She seated herself on my face so that it was a little difficult to breathe, but I didn't care. I could taste fresh cum on her snatch and knew she had been as active as I.
Great gobs of explosive white, shot into my cunt as the cock there relieved itself. I shook like a dying animal at the thrill and squirmed to the feel of liquid inside me. I groaned.
Now the body under me went tight as it fired a mass of slick gism into my asshole. The sweat of our bodies mixed as I fell back on his chest and he shook for one last time before his wet member slid free. A bubble of air trapped inside broke free and my rear farted at his pulling away. Soon a newer longer member replaced each of the first. Driving deeper, past the wet cum, driving me to new heights of pleasure as I munched harder on the clit of the girl who sat on my face. I looked up and could see through the pubic hair that her mouth too, was active as another man stood above with his cock deep into her mouth. I could see his balls swing hitting her chin with each thrust.
The girl I was eating was grunting in pleasure. As she came her love juices ran down the sides of my mouth forming little puddles in my ears before dripping to the floor. The cocks in my cunt and asshole also exploded and I opened my eyes to see two lines of men jerking themselves off on either side of me. Suddenly I was awash in cum. Covered from head to foot. Swimming in it. I rubbed it over my body, another girl joined me, she began to lick it off. The pleasure was so intense I thought I would faint.
I came and came again. I pressed my head deep into the plush carpet.
My cunt was red and tender by the time the party had slowed to the point of inaction. There was a full feeling inside that wasn't from the dinner table and the fluids of half a dozen men leaked out of my cunt and asshole. The floor was covered with nude, sleeping bodies that were spotted with flecks of drying cum, saliva and twat juice. Some had gone to sleep with their limp pricks still in the mouths of the women. I stretched my sore limbs and went to look for an empty bathroom.
I showered in first hot, then cold water and repeated the cycle until my body felt fresh and strong. The orgy had taken a lot out of me and had given new insights on life. This was the first time I had been part of such a large orgy. There had been a few times with five or six members and parties where everyone was nude and active but never such a mass effort as thirty people. There was something very tribe-like and basic about such a sexual free-for-all and while it had been fun, there was no real desire on my part to try it again for some time. I still like to choose my partner, and an orgy doesn't give me that choice. Half the people I had made it with tonight, I didn't know, and there was no way to know about the other half whose faes I couldn't see. My body had been very excited by the scene but my mind was a shade uptight with the memory of frantic, yet casual sex with anybody in reach.
I cleaned myself inside and out and went hunting for my clothes. They were draped over the back of a chair and I was able to dress without stepping on any sleepers. Pulling a cigarette from the pocket of my little jacket I walked out to the cool silence of the garden. A mixture of smoke and chilly Berlin air flowed down my throat and then back up. A large clock in the city rang three times and there was a dog barking on the other side of the house. Everything seemed so crisp and sharp and for an instant my mind was still and peaceful.
The spell was broken by a tight, curt voice filled with bitter distaste. I turned and looked at the face of the tense catlike man from dinner. His eyes were flashing with some deep hate and his lips looked dry. He glared at me and there was little doubt in my mind that he was going to shake my hand.
"Well, if it isn't the Hooker-Queen of Berlin." His English held traces of being learned from an American. He moved a step closer and kept talking. "You super whores make me sick. Did you enjoy that scene tonight? Does it give you a sense of power to see fifty strong, brave Germans act like pigs? You are nothing but a piece of shit. Ach, the world would be better completely free of your kind."
Things were clicking and falling into place. He had gone for the bait and there was a chance he was the fish I wanted. My gut and brain grew tense as I brought the bait closer.
"Yes," I snapped with a bitchy tone, "I enjoyed the feeling, the glow that comes from people loving each other. Group sex is the sign of honest people with no fear of love. It's closed-ass cowards like you that make life difficult for the honest hustler. You rape some little girl and feel guilty for it later. Things like you are the ball-less bottlenecks that try to make a joyful act between men and women a sordid, ugly thing. Go home and beat yourself off."
His face turned deep red and his hands became fists. There was a violent vibration in the undertones of his voice which said, "If you were a woman with any sense of her sex I would teach you not to speak to me like that. You are a weak excuse for a human being and not even that. I would dirty myself if I taught you the proper forms of respect. You are scum, nothing, only an animal that has learned to bathe in cum. You can never be made to understand what the true feelings between a man and a woman can be." He spat at my feet and started to walk away.
"Your brain is soft from too much guilt and you can't think past your own fuck-ups." He stopped and kept his back to me as I went on. "You're sick. You worry so much about getting caught with your prick in a whore's cunt that you can't think, that you can't function. Stay like you are and when the rest of us have broken free maybe you'll find some- one who gets a thrill out of fucking a crazy men!" That pushed the button he couldn't control. Telling a German he isn't right in the head is the same as telling an American he fucks his mother, his brother and the family dog.
His face turned livid as he turned and stalked toward me. He was sputtering in German. He stopped and shifted back into English and continued to rant at me. While he carried on, part of my mind let me know there was a good chance I had blown it. I had hit deep and he was too mad to stop and take the path I had wanted him to. The only way I would know he was my target was if I went home with him. I had to do something to get in his bed. On a long shot I slapped his face with the back of my hand.
He stopped in mid-word and shock replaced anger. There was a hint of a welt on his cheek and he touched his fingers to the white tensed skin. I played the last card and prayed that it wouldn't blow the entire plan.
"Nobody, and I mean nobody talks to me like that." I kept my voice low. "Look, mister, I'm more of a lady than you'll ever have. More than you'd ever know what to do with. Try me with your brand of love and we'll see if you've got the balls to keep up with me." It was a very long five seconds before he spoke. "All right." His voice was crisp again. "You will see and feel what it means to be loved by a man and not an animal. Come with me." He walked toward the gate and I was right behind.
He did not talk during the drive to his house. I sat in silence and wished that my gun was with me. This ride might lead me into a thing that couldn't be handled with just my ICO training. I had really blown this one from the start and a cold ball of fear inched up my spine. When the car stopped, I was ready to run but something held me back and we walked into his house. He told me to stay put until he turned on the lights. I pressed my back to the door and waited for the lights to come on.
The lights flicked on and a quick glance at his hands told me he wasn't armed. I wanted to run, to get away from the house and let someone else check him out, but Susan's memory made me walk down that hall. If I couldn't do this for her, then I really was nothing more than a fuck-box. I still wasn't sure this was my man but for my own mind, I needed to know if he was the killer. He was still walking in front of me when something very hard slammed into the back of my skull and everything went black.
Icewater hit my face and I woke up with a pain at the base of my skull. My eyes opened and two men were standing in front of me. The haze cleared as I shook water from my face and that cold feeling became very strong. My hands were bound to a chain that went through a pulley on the ceiling. I moved them once and felt metal bite my skin. I heard a strange laugh and turned my head toward the two men.
The lean cat-person I had come with was giving me a cold smile. I ran through my mind that I didn't even know his name. Standing next to him was something that didn't look real. It might have once been a man but now was a collection of plastic and steel devices. One arm was a slender steel machine with three claws for fingers. The other arm was all flesh but twisted and covered with huge muscles.
That must have been the arm that knocked me out.
The left leg was plastic and I couldn't tell about the other. In my street trade I had seen lots of guys with artificial limbs so that didn't really bother me.
What was giving me cold shocks was his face.
It looked like a fire burn had been the cause. One eye socket was dark and empty and the other held a pale light. The nose was gone and there were no lips, only bare gums and teeth. A stream of saliva-dripped out of the misshapen hole that passed for a mouth. The skin of the thing ranged from flesh pink plastic to yellow flesh that seemed dead. The one eye it had kept looking at me.
The lean fish I had baited walked over to me. He stared down at my nude form and gave a laugh I didn't like. "Ah yes," he said, "we find out the truth. We will see what kind of woman you really are. Do you see what is behind me, that twisted and replaced man? He is my son and I love him more than you can understand. His plane crashed and that is all they were able to save. It doesn't matter, I love him and will do anything for him. Tonight you are going to love him and do what he desires. Do you understand?"
My head gave a dull nod while the back of my brain yelled out in fear. The very thought of physical contact with such a horror did strange things to my mind. Kissing a lipless mouth, being stroked by a mishapened hand or a steel claw made me want to scream. When I was young there had been a book about lepers in my father's den. It was a cheap and sensational thing about sex habits among people with the disease. One passage had described how lepers will lose huge hunks of rotted flesh or entire limbs during sex and not notice. That part of the book had given me dreams of my breasts turning rotted grey and falling off as a pile of mushy tissue. I had also dreamed of having sex and watching my partner turn to pudding and fall apart in bed. All the lepers of my childhood sprang to life as I looked at my future partner.
"Good, very good," continued my jailer, "now you can understand what I meant tonight. You were so willing to let any man enter your body and you were willing to even play with other women. Now i just one man and that is all. I think perhaps this will prove a few points about womanhood." He grabbed the other end of the chain and pulled me toward the ceiling. My feet were only an inch off the floor but I was helpless.
I slowly turned on my chain and couldn't see the men behind me. A strange sound hit my ears and it took time to fully recognize the source. It was the dull hollow tapping of a plastic leg as he walked toward my back. The sound stopped and a cold rounded claw touched the small of my back with robot tenderness. A wet, hissing voice moved past my left ear, a voice that came from a lipless mouth. "Yesssss, nisssssce." The voice was not human. '1 wanthhh to luffff, to hhfuc yoooo deeeef insthide. Luffers tonight, all night. Yessss."
I pulled at my chains and the tip of a short whip bit my back. "Hold still!" My host was going to make sure I was good, with a whip if needed. Another sting kissed my back with just enough force to make me jerk. Another snap of leather on flesh sounded and the blows became harder. Each time he hit, it was with a little more force and gave a little more pain. I bit my lip during the last six blows to keep from yelling. The taste of my own blood was sharp. He sent the last blow into the lower part of my back and then told me to behave. "You will," his voice sounded like the ship, "let Mark do what he wants. The more he likes you, the longer I will let you live."
The hissing voice and steel finger were behind me again. Mark was hissing more words of passion while his claw poked between my legs into my body. The steel was cold and the mad part of my mind saw my cunt ripped out and the insides thrown on the floor. I was shocked to find that I was being very rational about the entire affair. Three years before, I would have been frantic with plans and trying to escape. Instead I was very calm and clear in most of my mind. I could understand that this was a very high form of love between a father and his son. I could also understand why Mark's father had taken such a dislike to me. His son could never be sexually "free". Even the horror of being taken by a monster had faded and I could feel sorry for his condition. Even though there was great calm in most parts of me, I still had no desire to die. The cold fingers were an inch up my sore cunt when I was hit for the second time on the back of the head and blacked out.
I was on a cold floor and my hands were behind my back. I looked up and saw a Nazi officer standing over me. To the side stood another officer with half a face and a steel hand. My two playmates had added something new to the game. A boot hit my chest as I tried to stand up. The force knocked my body into the floor. There was a ringing sound in my head as the man began to talk.
"So, you think you can resist?" His voice had an insane undertone. "Well, we have ways to make you see reason, ways to make you give in." It was like the script from a very bad war movie. I wanted to laugh, to look at the humor. Instead I made another lunge for his body and a boot exploded into my cunt. I was forced to crawl around the room and lick their boots. Mark pushed his boot up my ass and his father told me to lick it clean. After a few kicks were placed in my ribs, I licked. They grew tired of kicking and hitting me and my cat-like host withdrew his gun and walked behind me. Everything seemed to be in slow motion. It seemed like hours before the tip of his gun touched the base of my skull. This was it and there were a lot of questions that ran around my brain looking for answers. Mark's face looked from across the room and in the instant before the blow knocked me forward, his face changed to Susan's. There was a slamming on my skull and everything stopped cold and black.
I was floating on something soft and warm and there were lips nibbling away at my cunt. There was a soft glow before my eyes and it grew stronger. My eyelids popped open and above me was a soft white ceiling with gold fingers over me. I sat up on my elbows and saw a blond head over my crotch. My hands touched the head and made sure it was real. His tongue probed deeper until a few soft juices trickled into his throat. It was not an exceptional climax, but it made me let out a small gasp. The head pulled back and the handsome face looked at me with deep, Nordic eyes. I was confused and it took a moment to form a question.
Before the question could come out, there was the answer standing by the bed, a smile on his cat-like face.
"You are not," he said as I tried to understand, "dead, in the afterworld, or insane. You are in my house in Berlin and there is nothing to worry about."
"JUST WHAT SORT OF FUCKING GAME IS THIS!!!!" I jumped out of bed too angry to care about any danger. The blond boy who had eaten me to wakefulness fell to the side and got out of my way.
"Ach, please," said the man that had once placed a gun at the back of my head. "Let me explain. What happened tonight was all part of a game that Mark and I play. We find that excitement is very strong when there is a mood of death and horror. To watch a woman at the point of death is sensual. That is why we played the games with the ships and the uniforms, to make you think that death was ready. You were much more of a woman than I thought, much more." His eyes dropped to my cunt.
I was pissed, confused, hurt, and about a million other things at the same time. "Do you mean to tell me that this was all a put-on, a sick fantasy for you to get off on? What about that freak thing that was going to fuck me? Where does fucking Mark come in?"
He put his hand on the blond boy's head and looked at it with a smile. "This is Mark. What you saw at first is a collection of props from horror films. I thought they were very effective. But enough of this talk, let both Mark and me welcome your womanly body back to life. You still have the taste of death in your cunt, I want to experience it."
Mark and his father unzipped their pants and came after me, begging me to stay, to let them fuck me. I was offered money, a car, whatever I wanted if only they could put their pricks into me. The only thing I wanted was to get away from them and nothing more. As I walked out, they both asked me to whip them. A tempting offer like that was hard to turn down but I knew the only thing that would hurt them was rejection. After all the games and bullshit that had been structured to get me in bed I was walking out. I hoped his mental nuts would ache for a week. I stepped out into the early morning street and started walking.
Chapter Seven
During the next three days, Berlin grew to know me well. I hit all the right clubs and street corners. I talked about the right people and said the right things. A lot of people saw through me but they didn't matter. The people that found me witty, relevant, informed and beautiful were the ones I needed to impress. It was through them my fame would spread.
Berlin was getting a bit stale and it was time to move on. The grapevine reported the south coast of France would be wild during the next two weeks and so the south it would be. I started dropping the word around that I must leave for a warmer climate. There was no need to mention where, since every hustler in Europe was going to spend the next two weeks at Cannes and fuck with the movie stars. I planned to be in the front row every night.
Cannes is an over-rated stretch of beach with high prices and poor service. For some unknown reason, it is the site of film festivals and other international put-ons. While the films that are shown often are the worst crap to slip from the asshole of a camera, the show that goes on around Cannes is fantastic.
The streets are filled with people who look famous, would like to be famous, and a few that really are famous. Mixed in with this collection are tourists, hustlers, whores, pushers, pick-pockets, blackmailers and cops. The bars are stocked with young girls and boys that are waiting to be rented for the night. There is a lot of competition between the male and female hustlers since a lot of movie people don't care what gender warms the bed. The rest of the year Cannes is a drag, but for two weeks it is the wildest city in Europe.
I was talking with some director from England when someone who is classed as Famous walked over to me. He looks just as good as his films make him out to be. More than once I had spent a night with my hand in my cunt and his image in my head. He walked with great bearing and the director took off to somewhere else. The actor took my hand and walked me to the bar. "May I buy you a drink?" he asked. We sipped our drinks and talked about politics and the social system in America and I was susprised to find that he knew what he was talking about. His outlook was that of the early 60's and he felt there was a chance for mankind if all the bullshit would stop. I soon stopped thinking of him as an actor and got into his head as a person.
It was getting late and he suggested that we go to his hotel for something more to drink in his room. I felt excited inside but kept my cool front and we walked the two blocks to where he was staying. The clerk didn't bat an eye as we walked in and went to the elevator. We went to his room and he pulled out a fresh bottle of gin and we got down to some serious talking and drinking.
There seemed to be something bothering him but I couldn't figure out what it was. I kept looking at his solid shape and thinking of how he would be in bed. We continued to drink and I waited for him to make a move, to suggest that we go to bed but he avoided the subject of sex and stayed on politics. The first bottle died and he pulled out another.
I was getting very drunk and very hot. There was almost steam coming from my cunt. I tried sitting in a manner that would show off more of my body and let him know how I felt. Finally he mentioned sex.
"I guess that you thought I brought you up here to fuck." His speech was thick with rye. "I sure would like to but you've got to make me a promise before anything happens. Okay?"
I thought that he would want me to keep quiet about fucking him or something like that. I looked at him and nodded.
"Very good, very good," he said. "What you've got to promise is that you won't tell anybody about my prick, I mean how it looks. You want to tell the world that you screw Charles Beesley, go ahead. Just don't tell them about my tool." He stood up and turned his back and undressed.
When he turned around, I was nude and my box was hot. His body didn't look as good as I hoped but he was still a good looking man. My eyes dropped down to his crotch and I saw why he asked me not to talk.
His prick was covered with heavy lumps under the skin. Thoughts of rare forms of VD hit my mind followed by the thought of cancer. He saw my confusion and explained.
"What you see is the result of a fucking quack doctor. Told me that silicone would make it bigger just like it does with tits. It was great for about six months and then the fucking plastic shit he put in broke down. I've got a lumpy rod and the fucking doctor had left the country. Can't let the world know I've got a lumpy cock, bad for the image. Can't talk about it or it won't get hard. Plastic's fucked up the tubes. You'll have to work it a bit before it will be able to perform."
I pulled him down to the bed. His prick felt funny in my mouth, like a rotted cucumber. I sucked it for all that I was worth. Gradually I felt the lumps shift as the prick grew harder. I tried to concentrate on his face rather than think about the deformed organ I was sucking. I kept an image of him as I had seen him on the screen. It worked. I was getting hot.
I played with the tip of his cock nibbling it gently then swishing it back and forth in my mouth. It was still stretched from the silicone, so that as it hardened it was difficult to keep the entire organ inside. I gagged.
He twisted, using his cock in my mouth as a pivot. He had his head nestled between my legs and ate away like a pro. He played with my clit as I played with his cock. Both of us were near the point of no return.
But this was Charles Beesley. I didn't want to have blown him, I wanted to have fucked him. I didn't care if his cock was as lumpy as my mother's potatoes, I wanted it in me.
I let go of his cock and he got the message. He licked my cunt once more, then turned around. I spread my legs and pulled him close. He pushed inside.
Something clicked. His deformity must have somehow exactly matched up with my most sensitive points. I was in heaven. And so was he, it seems.
"Oh fucking yes," he screamed. "Let me shove that thing into you."
I couldn't hold back. "Fuck me, fuck me so deep I can taste it. Cock, that's what I want, all the hard mutated swollen cock you have. Ram it in my cunt, in my cunt, douse my cunt. Got to have it... got to have all your cock. Long, hard, let me suck you, fuck you."
"I'll fuck you!" he said pushing harder. "Now, Now, NOW!!!! GOD I'M COMING I'M COMING!!'-' He came. He shot his heavy load deep into my insides. I came with him dripping in ecstasy. Our bodies shook in unison and we finally drifted off to sleep.
The next morning he had left by the time I awoke. There was a note that said, See you around, and three hundred dollar bills. I felt funny about taking that much but it was all part of the game. If he felt that was what I was worth, then that was what I would take. Anyway, the money would come in handy. And I promised myself never to tell anyone the real secret of Charles Beesley.
The next night the phone woke me with a shrill ring. Ducasse's voice shot out of the earphone and was almost as shrill as the ring. "Goddamn, Waters, did you get him? He hit in Cannes last night. Get going and get something done." The phone clicked dead before I could reply. I jumped up and got. dressed and went to the police station.
The body had been removed from the scene. Tests were being run on the victim and the police showed me photographs of the scene. It was the man I was after, one look was enough to show that. His motives were the same too. Beneath her severed tits, carved into the flesh of her stomach was the word "WHORE". My man was getting more savage as time went on.
There was no reason to stay in Cannes any longer. The killer was now on his way to some new spot and it was up to me to guess. Cannes had been a stroke of luck, the next choice would be based on logic. It would take some time for me to make a choice and right now was the time to start.
After three hours of deep thought on all the sex spots in Europe, the place slammed true as a home run. The only scene where there was always action no matter what else was going on was Amsterdam. That was the one place he had failed to hit and now was the time. The move that most people would guess was Paris so Amsterdam would be the real place to look. I needed to do some more work in Cannes but I would grab the night flight out if there was one. I packed my bags and got set to leave.
Chapter Eight
Home was clean and neat. The new maid seemed to know what she was doing. I took a bath and then slept to awake feeling fresh. There was food in the refrigerator, and over coffee and a cigarette a new plan began to form. If things went right, and that was everything in the plan, the hunt would be over. I toasted the plot with the coffee dregs and another cigarette.
Amsterdam at night is shocking, wonderful, dirty and the brightest town on Earth. I slipped into my whore clothes and went hunting for the Ripper. I decided to try the Bad Manners. Amsterdam's most incredible sex place.
Inside, the Bad was covered with strobe lights and color organs. Over the bar was a seven foot model of an erect penis studded with lights. The lights were hooked to a color organ and they throbbed to the sound of the music. The effect of such a massive, glowing thing was very erotic at times. Sex was the password at the place, and for once, it was a place where it was done as much as said.
It was not unusual to find people fucking in the back booths and sometimes on the table. The club had a steam room that was known around the world. I had never gone in there because it was so wild, but I guessed now would be as good a time as any to try. I paid my two guilders and walked in for a "steam bath".
Even the hallway was packed with action. One couple hadn't cared to wait until they were in the steam room and were balling on the floor. The other patrons stepped by or over them. The two did not seem to care that everyone could watch them, in fact, they didn't notice that there was anyone else around. There was a heat growing in my pants as I walked past the groaning pair.
In most countries steam rooms and "baths" if they exist at all are confined to old health fanatics or young queers, but in Amsterdam, anyone can join in the fun and does.
The locker room was a mass of hands and lips that seemed to touch and then run. At the very least, while I was undressing, four sets of lips placed thirty second kisses on my nipples. Hands touched and cupped my twat but never seemed to follow through. By the time I walked into the steam room I think I was hotter than the steam. The hot vapor hugged me as I walked into a shadow filled orgy.
Through the hot steam danced figures in sexual postures. Fingers tripped up and down and played games with my cunt, ass and tits. A wet mouth that held more heat than the wet steam tasted and then took in a nipple. A finger went down to my cunt and played with my pulsating clit. I let it play until I was only a few seconds from cuming and then I pulled away. Another hand grabbed me and pulled gently toward the right. With my tit in the lead, I followed the pulling force.
The hand placed the tip of a cock in between my thighs. He took a half step forward and drove into the hole with power. Fm sure he could hear my soft groan above the hiss of the steam. He made long slow strokes that pushed my murmuring moan to a shriek. The shriek rose and I was jerking and shaking around the length of his prick. My warm hole went tight and then loose as his first load of the day shot into me.
I pulled the cum-drenched part of me free and went looking for other action within the fog.
Everywhere I turned there were hands and mouths and cocks and cunts that were ready for some hot pussy. I grew tired of walking around and sat down on the bench to wait for some strong man to come to me.
In the silver gloom came the shape of a Viking boat, long and hard-prowed. My hand slid down the keel and the long-boat docked in my cunt. With my lower lips for rags, I rubbed down the craft until it was ready to land its cargo. The rare oils that are only found in the bodies of strong men gushed up my tubes. The boat held for a moment and then put back out to the foggy sea.
I stood and walked about some more, putting whatever was offered to me into whatever I had to offer. I sat, not on a bench, but on the erect penis of some quiet man. He never said a word the entire time that he was in me. He came without a sound and pushed a large amount of thick, hot gism up my cunt. His pole began to shrink and was soon a limp finger that rubbed the insides of my thighs. I stood up and walked on.
After an hour in the bath, the heat began to sap my strength. I groped for the door and, after rubbing a few cocks and cunts, found it. Cold air flowed around me and I stood in a small room that sprayed cold water. My skin grew tight from the impact of the cold. I kept walking.
The last room was the lounge. Flashing lights shot patterns on the walls and the room looked much like the bar except here everyone was nude. Masses of hot flesh rolled about the floor and the scene was much like that in Berlin: The memory of that night was still strong and I didn't spend any time in the lounge.
I dressed and stepped into the bar for a drink. I made myself obvious and passed the word that I was the world's greatest hustler and although I gave it out tonight, in the future it would cost-and cost plenty.
I returned to the Bad often. I wanted to make sure my trap was well set. It was two weeks when the fish walked into the net. He was the right build and there was something about him that seemed to hang like a shroud. He came into the Bad Manners and asked to speak with me. He was brought to the table and signals started ringing in my head. Everything about him seemed to foretell danger and a cool fire burned in my chest.
There must be a great thrill that comes from putting your head in the mouth of a lion and that was the type of thrill that he brought out in me. A part of me wanted to. dance as near the edge of death as possible and that part began to grow. After more than three years of tracking and hurting, he was coming to me and my pain and quest would soon end. The taste of his capture was on my lips but I held back to make sure.. There had been two other times that taste filled my mouth only to turn sour. I nodded to him and we talked.
"I have been told," he spoke without a trace of any accent, "that you are Amsterdam's finest prostitute. If that is the case, I wish to speak with you." He leaned toward me and my hand rested on the butt of my gun, muscles ready.
"Since that is the case," he fished his eyes, "may I be so forward as to offer my help to you. My name is, for all that it matters, Carr. That is the only name I use. I have talents that may be of great use to you."
Blood was shooting through my veins, but it didn't show. I dropped my voice and asked him, "What sort of talents can you offer?"
"My talents are in the areas of the human body. Many of us can learn to give pleasure, but only a few can truly give pain. Every method of sensory excitement the body can understand is my forte. It is in the area of rare sensations and pain that I am truly expert."
It was like a savage hunger that ripped into my belly as I looked at him. He was the one, the mad Ripper that had taken Susan's life and three years of my time. I wanted to pry open his coat and look for steel blade beneath. He wanted to let me use his talents as a pain master to help me as a Perhaps he had heard that I would do anything for a price. I knew what he really wanted to do.
He wanted to take my tits and slice them from my body. He wanted to feel my guts puke out from the hole between my legs. I wanted his entire body much more than he wanted my tits or my cunt. His body, mind, and twisted essence were going to, if just for a second, belong to me as payment for the hell he had put me through and what he had done to Susan. My cool cover remained intact and I spoke. "I think your talent could be very exciting. Tell me, are you willing to give a demonstration?"
An excited, greedy expression touched him for one second then faded. "Why yes," his voice bland and tense in the same breath. "Would this Friday night be acceptable?"
My tongue grazed my lips. "This Friday will be fine." My fingers touched End of my pistol and six bullets begged to puncture his sick body. Maybe he would fight and then I would have to kill him. I wanted to kill him as he had killed. Three shots, one for each tit and one where it hurt the most...He withdrew from the table and dropped out of my sight.
The next night I went out to a local bar to ease the tension of the wait. My mood was good. There were few patrons in the place and I just sat with my drink.
I was about ready to leave when a man walked in and the bottom seemed to fall out of my stomach.
He wasn't that handsome but some kind of magnetic force danced around his body. He was slim and dark haired and walked with the grace of a dance. I could feel my blood heat and my box slowly moisten.
He walked over to the bar and ordered a drink. I was thinking of some nice way to invite him over when he came over to the table. I looked up and gave a pleasant smile. In a soft tone he told me, "If you are waiting for someone, I'll leave."
He was the only one worth waiting for in the place. I offered him a chair and we began to talk and drink like old friends. We talked for three hours and never had a dull moment or awkward lull between us. Allen, as he was named, had been in Europe longer than me but didn't seem to know nearly as much about it. We talked cities and bars and all the usual sex talk that goes on between a whore and her John when they meet. Only for this guy I was no whore. Hell, if it came down to it, I'd pay. We talked about sex a lot and he asked me if I were the famous Carol Waters. He was very pleased to find that I was and mentioned that he had been looking forward to meeting me.
Everything seemed to be running like clockwork. Soon I would be rid of the Ripper and there was a chance of a new lover in Allen. He seemed like the type that would be good to be around. I called for more gin and he slid his hand up my leg. His fingers rubbed my box through the cloth of my panties. My hand touched his lap and my own fingers traced the outline of a stiff round tube of flesh. We smiled and he invited me over for a long last drink.
He opened the door to the hotel room and stood back while I walked in. He followed me in and the sound of the door locking shut reached my ears and I started to turn to kiss him. Something very hard connected with my head before I finished turning. I came to as Allen tied the last knot that held down my right leg. The left one and my arms were bound tight. There was a gag in my mouth and I was nude. I had been tied to an old wooden bed with nylon cord. There was a sense of deja vu about the scene and there was this fleeting feeling in my gut that somewhere a mistake had been made. I jerked at my bonds and managed to do nothing but rub skin from my wrist.
"Please, Carol," Allen's voice was soft and altender, "don't hurt yourself by trying something stupid. I know you don't understand what is going on but you will find out in just a moment. You see, I am going to kill you and the reason you're dying is just the fact that you happen to be the kind of whore I hate. Before you die, you'll know why I hate whores and perhaps even understand something about me. Now Carol, I've got a big surprise for you." He started to remove his clothing and throw it in- to a plastic bag to protect it from the blood he expected. I was shocked when he took off his shirt. He had breasts that were like women's and the nipples stood out red: I pulled at the bonds and only tore more skin.
His pants fell down and he reached inside of his shorts and pulled out a sausage and held it up. "That is what your filthy whore hands were playing with." He pulled off the shorts and I looked into the crotch of a woman.
Allen was female, totally female. The bar scene was just part of an act, part of the bait I went for.
"You should perhaps call me Ellen, and not Allen," he said. I couldn't figure out why a woman would have so much hatred for a whore.
"I'm not a woman," the person continued, "not really. I used to be a man. That was before the operations that made me carry this ugly thing as a fake cock. You don't think this is true but it doesn't matter. I'm going to take away your sex organs like they took away mine. I know it won't grow my own back but it makes me feel better. I should have stayed a man but everybody wanted me to be a girl. I thought I was, I thought I was a woman in a man's body. That's why the operations. I lost my prick for motherfuckers like you. See why you are going to die? Can you really blame me?"
When I saw the straight razors taken out of a bag, what little bits that were left of my mind fell apart.
I looked at the steel and mused upon how it was going to feel. Shock had set in and it was only a matter of time until I was dead. It was ironic that it should happen like this, but the universe is an ironic place to be.
I could feel the shit break loose in my colon and push out on the sheet. The muscles around my bladder gave up and urine flooded the bed. It felt warm as blood was going to feel on my body.
In the back of my head, the animals and beasts that lived deep in the shadows of my brain rushed upwards for one last breath of air. The animal that Gorkoff had showed me took control. I would die a mad beast that could only destroy and hate. I was glad that the rest of my mental structure had ceased to function.
The bed shook as the animal took control. The steel had yet to touch but it didn't matter. The bed shook harder as my body fought and pulled and tried to break free. It was only a matter of seconds that death would stall. Somewhere in the distance came the sound of breaking wood. My body tilted a funny way and more wood snapped. Unable to break the bonds, my body had broken the bed apart by pulling and jumping. I felt a jerk of movement and I was standing upright, my feet and hands free.
The rest of the scene is almost as if I had watched it from the outside. I heard Allen scream once as my body grabbed him by the neck. I could hear the snapping of bones his head was bent back. My body then carried him over to the window and his body dropped six floors, head first. My body hit the overload point and everything went black.
When I woke up there were police all over and rather than try to tell them about it, a call was placed to the local ICO office and they took care of the entire thing. Two days later I transferred to the Swiss station which is sort of a rest home. I stayed there six months.
This all happened over a year ago and there are some loose ends to this that finally made sense. The important ones are that Carr was a fake, a small time freak with dreams of power. He played a good part but his skill at creative pain was limited to kicking people in the shin. Nothing ever happened to him.
Allen was really a transsexual and had spent the first twenty years of his life as a male. He had been unable to adjust to being female and flipped out. I talked to a shrink about his style of killing and the good doctor said it was a common desire carried out to deadly points.
He wanted me to escape. That was the reasoning behind his less than ingenious method of keeping me bound. He wanted me to kill him. That would be his way of final peace, his only hope. I was elected to bring hope to him as he'd brought despair to others.
Well, I can't say that all is back to normal, but I'm trying. So, if you'll excuse me, I've got to call a connection about a matched set of sixteen year old Nordic twins that have learned some new tricks. It should be fun; there are some things I want to show them.
