Thousands of young women are left alone every year by our servicemen on active duty. It's not a happy experience for any of these women, but for some it becomes unbearable. But it has been a problem of all societies throughout history, and will continue to be as long as there are wars. Most of these brides are strong enough to adjust to a life of separation, knowing that one day their husbands will return.
But for others, perhaps left alone for the first time in their lives, it is a time of extreme vulnerability and weakness. It is just such a frightening period that Anne Hartley endures in (Soldier's Bride). Newly married, out on her own for the first time, Anne Hartley finds herself alone without a friend, surrounded by enemies.
It is this period in a young woman's life that author McElroy has written-and of the human predators that prey on girls like Anne when they are most defenseless.
No effort has been made to cover-up anything in Anne Hartley's story-the language used in every instance is as real as real-life, and as jarring and shattering as Anne's own plight.
Perhaps, if just one serviceman leaving for overseas reads this book; or one housewife about to be left behind for the first time, then just perhaps one person can be rescued from the agonies and hardships endured by Anne Hartley.
-THE PUBLISHERS
CHAPTER I
It had all seemed so easy at first-Bob would work for his brother's engineering firm, and Anne would find a job, and with the two of them saving, it would be a snap. Only it didn't work out that way. Exactly three months to the day after Bob dropped out of school to go to work, his induction notice arrived. The Army whisked Bob away, and Anne Hartley was left looking for a job in a town full of college wives with the same plans. She quickly discovered that the employers all wanted shorthand, typing and filing; and her two years of English, Philosophy and French were worthless. She probably could have scraped by on Bob's army pay, but finding a job and making it on her own had become almost an obsession for her. The job at Harrell's, selling retail cosmetics eight hours a day, was the only thing she could find. Apparently no one else wanted it, she told herself.
The first two weeks were not so bad, at least there was some excitement and challenge to learning something new. But from then on, it was downhill all the way. At twenty-one, she was the youngest in the whole department by at least twenty years. But at least it was a job. And the $79.50 at the end of every week made it a little less unbearable.
Bob's letters began to space themselves farther and farther apart, but Anne knew not to worry. After all, fighting in Vietnam was an around-the-clock job, and she knew that Bob was doing well to find any time to write at all. But still, his letters meant more to her than anything else, and she even devised a system for finding out if one had come while still at work. Nancy Shelby, her next door neighbor, would check Anne's mailbox around noon, and Anne could call on her afternoon break to get the all-important answer. Anne knew she was being silly, but she just couldn't stand the suspense of waiting all day, then rushing home to find only a stack of second-notice bills. The stuffy older woman laughed at her system, but it didn't bother Anne. As long as his letters kept coming, she could weather anything.
"Miss ... Oh, Miss ... Excuse me." Anne was ten thousand miles away.
"Oh, I'm terribly sorry," she apologized. "I must have been daydreaming. Could I help you?"
"Yes," the woman began, "You have a package on lay-away for me. I would like to get it, please."
"Certainly," replied Anne, "And what is your name?"
"Home. H-o-r-n-e. Alice Home."
Anne was back with the package in a few minutes. "Here we are, Mrs. Home. That'll be twenty-three forty-five with tax."
The gray-haired lady smiled. "Here you are. I think that's the right change." Anne counted it out on the glass counter surface. "You know," continued the woman, "It's certainly nice to be waited on by such a pleasant young lady." Her voice dropped to a whisper as she leaned over the counter."
"Those old bags you work with haven't got a kind word for anybody."
Anne only smiled. She was tempted to say "how right you are!" but thought better of it. "Thank you, Mrs. Home," she said, "I do try to be friendly. It gets a little difficult sometimes, but I keep trying."
"You haven't been here very long? Going to college?" inquired Mrs. Home.
Anne slipped the package into a larger bag. "No. I was, but now I'm waiting for my husband to come back from service. He's in the Army in Vietnam."
Mrs. Home looked concerned. "Goodness, and at your age, too. Were you married long when your husband left?"
"No," answered Anne. "Just a few months.
Bob had planned to go back to school. He's only one year away from an engineering degree. But they wouldn't give him a deferment." Anne wondered why she was telling so much to a total stranger, but Alice Home had that sort of grand-motherly face that just begged to hear her troubles. There weren't any other customers at the counter, so Anne rambled on and on about their marriage, Bob's brother and his engineering business, and how much trouble she had had trying to find a job.
"I know exactly how you feel," Mrs. Home said finally, "I sat out World War II right here in this city. My husband was gone for three years. So I can certainly understand your situation."
"Three years!" exclaimed Anne. "How did you stand it?"
Mrs. Home laughed. "Well, in those days, people suffered through a lot of things they thought impossible. When you're faced with a hard, cold reality like that, you just grit your teeth and make the best of it."
"I suppose those days give you and your husband a lot to talk about on winter nights, huh ? " asked Anne.
Mrs. Home looked almost reluctant to answer. "Well, we used to kid each other about the hard times. But Mr. Home died several years ago."
Anne felt the hot crimson flooding her face. "Oh, ... I'm sorry ... I mean, I didn't know."
Mrs. Home patted Anne's shoulder. "Don't be silly. How could you have known. And besides, that was a long time ago. That was just another impossible reality ... just like the war years." She bundled her package under her arm. "Listen, why don't we have lunch sometime. Just a couple of old gals without any menfolk. How about it?"
Anne was delighted. "Of course, it sounds like fun."
"Fine. I'll drop by some day before noon. What time do you go to lunch?" she asked.
"Noon's fine, usually. Oh, you don't even know my name. I forgot to tell you!"
Mrs. Home laughed. "I figured you would tell me sooner or later."
"It's Anne. Anne Hartley. And I'll be looking forward to having lunch with you."
Anne thought about Mrs. Home for the rest of the day. What a delightful lady, she was so friendly and warm. How much easier this job would be, thought Anne, if all my customers were like her.
There was no letter that day, nor the next, and Anne's brief moments of cheerfulness with Mrs. Home were soon forgotten. Anne was beginning to dread going home each night. Home to that cold, empty apartment, dreary and threatening without Bob around. She had thought about moving in with another girl, but it seemed that everyone she knew either was married, or already had a room-mate. But she knew it would be better, at least there would be someone around to talk to. The worst part of all was climbing into that over-sized double bed, and sliding under the icy covers. She remembered how Bob would always snuggle up next to her, and keep her warm. It had become a part of their nightly routine, like brushing their teeth. Often she would wake up and be unable, in those few dizzy seconds between being asleep and being awake, to remember why Bob wasn't there. Then she would jar awake, and a little queasy knot would form in her stomach as she remembered that he was thousands of miles from her side. She had wondered if it would get easier to bear as the time slipped by, but now she knew. For her, at least, time erased nothing. Each day seemed to make the emptiness in her life more acute.
She thought often of going home. That is, to her parents' home. But that was like running away, somehow. No, she told herself, I'll stick it out right here. It's ridiculous for me to be afraid. Bob's the one I should worry about, not myself.
Her parents probably would have been glad to have her come and stay, but even if she thought it the best place to go, she knew that she could never feel completely at ease around them. There was still a tender wound there-they had tried everything to keep her from quitting school and getting married to Bob. Anne could never completely forget some of the awful things her father had said. How he accused her of letting them down, of spending a fortune for a year in college, and then throwing it all away. She remembered how he had called Bob a "ass and a deadbeat" for quitting school, how he had said that the Army would be good for him, maybe teach him about life. Those tense moments were not forgotten, not by Anne, and not by Bob. They had made the best of their situation after their marriage, but dinners and week-ends at Anne's parents' place were forced occasions at best. Finally, during the last month before he left, Bob had flatly refused to go at all.
Bob's parents had offered to have her stay with them while he was away, but Anne knew that they were only making the offer because it was the right thing to do. They didn't have the room for another member of the family, Bob's younger brothers already filled the one bedroom, so the only place she could have slept there would have been the bedroom that Mr. and Mrs. Hartley occupied. So that was certainly out of the question. In fact, staying in the city was really the only serious choice open. She had been there for two years, so another one or two shouldn't be so difficult. But Anne had Bob before, and now she had no one.
Anne was waiting on a customer when Mrs. Home walked in. But the customer could wait; here was a friend, or at least the closest thing to it. She didn't wait for the woman to speak.
"How are you, Mrs. Horne!" Anne greeted, "It's so nice to see a friendly face. I thought you'd forgotten."
She reached across and gave Ann a friendly squeeze on the shoulder. "Of course not, my dear. I've been looking forward to that lunch for days now."
Anne was ecstatic. Just the chance to relieve the routine was cause for celebration. "Just wait here. I'll get rid of this customer, and we'll be on our way," Anne whispered.
"Now don't do that," Mrs. Horne laughed, "Take your time with the customer. You don't want to lose your job, do you?"
Anne leaned over the counter. "Just between you and me, it might be a blessing if they fired me."
Anne was finishing her crab salad, and about to start on her steak when Mrs. Horne began to explain to her the real reason for lunch.
"You know Anne, it wasn't easy for me after Arthur died. I found myself in the same situation you're in. Only mine was permanent. I couldn't get a job. No skills, they told me. So I got to thinking about a business of my own. Arthur always told me that the only real way to get ahead in this world is to have a business of your own..."
"You were awfully brave to think about launching your own business at that point in your life," Anne acknowledged.
"Oh it wasn't a matter of bravery. It was simply survival. Arthur never made a lot of money. And when he died, there were taxes and funeral expenses, and doctor bills. Pretty soon it was all gone. So I had to do something. I thought of a million dozen things I could start with the little money remaining-a restaurant, a bookstore, I always did like books, even a laundry. But nothing seemed right. Then it hit on just the right business."
Anne was hanging on every word. "What was it?"
"Well, I started thinking about all the lonely people in this world. Some that are only temporarily lonely, like you, and others, like I was then, who were permanently lonely-that is, without anyone. And I decided that if I could help these people, and make a little money for myself at the same time, that I would have the perfect business."
"I don't understand. What kind of business does that?" Anne questioned.
"Let me finish. I called it Alice's Introductions. At first it was mainly for people looking for permanent companionship. You know ... old maid schoolteachers, and retired sailors, people like that. I put together a lot of marriages that first year. Then it became something else. You know this is a big city, and there are hundreds, even thousands of out-of-towners staying here at any given time. Well, most of these people ... not just men, but women, too ... are decent, Christian folks. like salesmen here for a few days, or conventioneers here for a week. And they all have the same problem-companionship. Not anything dirty, mind you. Just someone to talk to, someone to show them around, have dinner with, maybe go dancing. You can remember how it is in a strange city, every place you go is full of laughing, happy people, and you feel like the only one alone. It can ruin a person's stay here."
"Oh, I remember all right. Just last night I went to Ernest's for dinner. Thought I might as well treat myself to a night out. But I just didn't enjoy it. Not by myself, with no one to talk to."
"That's it exactly," she continued. "So I began to toy with the idea of some way to help these people, too. I guess I was becoming somewhat of a do-gooder in my old age. It took a while to get the bugs out, but now it runs like clockwork. I have about a dozen girls, like yourself, pretty, well-bred, and good conversationalists. These girls act as "hostesses' for my clients-usually visiting business executives. Instead of giving them a guided tour in groups ... the sort of thing nobody really-likes ... I give them individual treatment. My girls show them around, have dinner, maybe a little dancing. You know, whatever. Just good, wholesome hospitality. And for this my girls earn twenty-five dollars per evening-as many evenings as they want to work. Of course, I make a little myself. Just enough to meet my needs."
"Sounds interesting. Is there much demand for a service like this?"
Mrs. Home finished her coffee, and replaced the demitasse cup in its saucer. "Demand? Oh, you wouldn't believe it. I could double my staff of girls, and still have to turn away business. I tell you, Anne, loneliness is a universal thing."
"I just had no idea there was anything like this around. Do you advertise? Where do your clients come from?" she asked.
Mrs. Horne looked a little hesitant, as if choosing her words. "Well, you probably wouldn't see any of my advertising. I have ads in convention bulletins, and around the airports, at hotels, you know, places where newcomers might be. The newspapers are a waste of money, for my kind of business, anyway. Strangers in town just don't read the local papers, unless they are looking for a job. Then they are planning to become residents, and don't need my services, anyway." She signalled for the waiter to remove the plates. "Would you care for dessert, Anne?"
Anne leaned back in the thickly-padded chair and placed her hand on her stomach. "Oh, no thank you," she laughed, "I'm absolutely stuffed now."
When the waiter was gone, she continued again.
"I have to confess ... I've told you all of this for a reason. Not that I haven't enjoyed your company. I certainly have ... I told you all of this because I would like to offer you a job. On my staff. What do you say?"
Anne could only stare with her jaw hung open.
"Well, don't look so surprised, Anne. You certainly fit the requirements. And I know you don't particularly enjoy working at Harrell's."
Finally, Anne spoke. "Me! ? Why I couldn't do anything like that. I've got a husband to think about. I couldn't be running all around town with other men."
"Being married has nothing to do with it," said Mrs. Horne reassuringly. "Five of my girls are married. Two are like yourself-separated by the Army or the Navy. And three live with their husbands right now. They just work one or two nights a week for extra money."
"Don't their husbands mind. I mean ... Don't they want their wives home with them, not out with strange men?" questioned Anne.
"Of course they want their wives with them. But this is business. They enjoy having an extra fifty or seventy-five dollars a week as much as their wives do. Look at it this way: How about airline stewardesses, and waitresses, and private secretaries? Aren't they with men all the time? Do their husbands mind?" She let Anne think about that a minute.
"But that's different. They..."
"Don't say any more. I've heard it a thousand times. It's simply this-if you can go out with a gentleman, show him the city and make a few dollars for Bob's college education later, without getting involved, then it's simple. And adult women have no problem doing just this. Women are natural entertainers anyway."
"I don't know ... It just doesn't sound right. I mean Bob just wouldn't understand. He'd worry if he knew I was out with other men. Even on business," said Anne.
"That's simple. Don't tell him. I'm not suggesting you lie to your husband, heavens knows. Just tell him you're working for Alice's Introductions. You needn't go into detail."
"Oh that would never do. He'd want to know a lot more than that," replied Anne.
"Why don't you cross that bridge when you come to it?" suggested Mrs. Horne. "If he asks, then tell him. Don't make a problem out of it now."
"I'm still not sure about it," admitted Anne. "In a way it sounds like a lot of fun. Anything would be better than working at Harrell's. But I'd have to think about it ... I couldn't..."
Mrs. Horne interrupted. "I don't want you to make up your mind right now. We'll talk about it later. Anyway, here comes my dessert. Are you sure you won't have a little?"
Anne lay awake for hours, listening to the late-night show on the clock radio beside the bed, and tossing around Alice Home's offer. Why not, she asked herself. I would have my days free, and three nights a week would be as much as I'm making now and I could save for
Bob's college. Oh, but I couldn't. Suppose I ran into a friend of Bob's. I would just die if he found out. He would never understand it was just a job.
And in a moment, she was asleep; the radio still playing, and her mind still jumbled and confused.
CHAPTER 2
Frederic's was unquestionably the most fashionable, most super-elegant dinner club in the city. The motif was Victorian, but the cuisine was strictly Continental. Gas lights and red-flocked wallpaper added just the right turn-of-the-century touch, and the walls were adorned with gilt-framed oils of the nineteenth century. Mr. Frederic himself personally seated everyone, and only after assuring himself of one's comfort did his crowd of waiters, wine stewards and assistants descend with a flourish. Anne tried to enjoy it all, to just feel, smell and taste, rather than think about it. But it was hopeless. She was out with another man, and nothing would change that. A stabbing chill ran through her body every time Mr. Frederic came through the arched doorway with another group. What if it's someone I know? What do I do if they come over to this table? How could I ever hope to explain being out with another man while my husband is five thousand miles away?
Anne wasn't sure herself about being in this place. The decision had not been really hers. She had kicked around Mrs. Home's offer for two days, and was still unsure of the right move, when the cosmetics department manager called her in to tell her that all new employees were being cut to twenty-four working hours per week, due to a decline in business, and that Anne's new hours would include Tuesday nights and Wednesday nights. That did it. The rest was easy, and before she really had time to think, Mrs. Horne had brought her into her offices, trained her in sightseeing and being the proper hostess, and scheduled her for her first evening's work. She even advanced her twenty dollars, just to tide her over until the real money could start coming in.
Thank heavens it's a double-date! Anne was still nervous when the waiter returned with the first of the dinner. She wasn't quite sure what she had ordered, but it was French and it sounded delicious. Her escort's name was John Montgomery, and he was in the city for three days for a buying trip. He was hesitant to discuss his business, and Anne could understand why-there was a well-worn white band on the third finger of his left hand, where a ring had obviously been. She pretended not to notice, and carefully avoided any conversation about marriage. Mrs. Horne had insisted that Anne leave her wedding ring on, a request that didn't make sense to her. She was finding it easier than she had expected, and with a few drinks tucked away, Anne was actually beginning to have a good time-something she had not really hoped for. Her "co-hostess" was Patricia Desmond, and was obviously a seasoned pro. She was quite skillful at the art of teasing, urging her date on just enough to keep him contented, then backing coyly away. He was also in town on a buying trip, but not with the same company.
"Anne, aren't these two just darlings? I mean, to bring us to such a nice place. I would have been just as happy with hamburgers and french fries, wouldn't you, Anne? Why this place is the best restaurant in town." Patricia apparently had no intentions of slowing down, so Anne only smiled demurely and nodded in agreement as Pat bubbled on and on. Pat had slipped her fingers under her date's collar, and was tauntingly massaging his neck at the top of his spine. "Why, Edmund you're so strong and muscular. How do you do it? I mean, running a business and all of that. Doesn't that take most of your time?"
Anne couldn't help thinking that Pat was laying it on a little thick, and she wasn't really talking very much with her date. But in fact, it didn't seem to matter. John seemed to be content to just stare at her, a habit that made her rather uncomfortable. Anne had forgotten how it felt to be looked at that way by a man. All those days and nights alone in that apartment had blurred the memories.
And she had a few of those. Her shoulder-length blonde hair, and pixy-like bangs clipped off just even with her eyebrows, and her slender, youthfully-firm body, teamed up to make her a real head-turner. At least in the days before Bob. She hadn't really noticed after that. Bob always told her he thought she had the best body of any girl he had ever seen, and he used to have her parade before him sometimes without any clothes on. It embarrassed her at first, but pretty soon it became sort of fun. Sometimes she would twist her hips just a little, in a kind of mock striptease grind, and she could see him get excited. His breathing would get faster, and that tell-tale bulge of his hardening penis would begin to rear its head inside his pants.
"...Well, what do you say?"
Anne snapped back to Frederic's. Everyone was waiting for her to answer.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I was thinking about something. What was the question ? " she asked, embarrassed.
John thought her daydreaming amusing.
"I'd rather hear about what you were thinking of so intently, but the question was-How about some champagne? This place is so nice, I thought we would just stay a little longer."
"Sure. Sure. I'd love some."
Maybe that will relax me a little, she told herself. I don't know why I'm so tense and tightened up inside. After all, they all seem to be very nice.
And she was right. A few glasses of the bubbling champagne eased away almost all of her tension, and conversation began to come easier.
"This is my first date, you know," she giggled, giving John's arm a tiny humorous squeeze. "Not really my first date, I mean ... I've had dates before ... Oh, you know what I mean. My first date with the introduction service."
"Yes, I know," confessed John. "Mrs. Horne told me. She also told me that you were her prettiest girl. And I can see she was telling the truth in both instances."
Pat didn't appear to be listening, but that caught her ears.
"Now wait just a minute, Mr. John L. Montgomery," she began, the words mushing together from the champagne. "You shouldn't tell a girl she's the prettiest around when you've got another one sitting at the table."
She puffed her lips together in a mock pout.
"Boy, you've got ears like a jittery dog. I'll have to watch what I say," said John. He rose out of his chair, and stretched across the round table. "I stand corrected-the two prettiest girls," and he gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.
"That's better. You don't get two mistakes like that," she teased. "And why didn't you leap to my defense, Edmund? Don't think I'll forget. We'll see..." And the rest disappeared in the din of the restaurant as she leaned close to his ear.
"Oh, baby, you're too much!" roared Edmund, coming alive finally. Anne wondered for a moment what she had said to him, but she soon forgot as the lights flashed for the opening of the floor show.
A single beam pierced through the smoky haze and burst on an attractive brunette standing at the edge of the ringside tables. They were only two tables back. Frederic had given them excellent seating.
"Frederic's welcomes you, Ladies and Gentlemen. We hope to make your evening here as pleasant as possible. My name is Gloria Landon, and I'd like all of you to just sit back, have another drink, and travel with me around the world. In song, that is..."
John poured another round of champagne. And the girl singer began her medley with April in Paris.
"What do you say we cut out after this song?" suggested Edmund. "The food was good, but I can't say much for the broad."
Pat only giggled, and shoved her chair tightly against Edmund's. "That sounds like a pretty flimsy excuse to me. Just what did you have in mind after we leave here?" she asked.
Edmund whispered in her ear, and she burst into laughter and Anne could feel every eye in the place fixed on their table from the noise.
"Edmund, old boy, I think you're right. We'd better be moving on. I think the natives are getting restless," said John, signaling for the waiter.
Anne knew she should feel embarrassed, but she didn't. Actually, it was sort of fun. like she was thumbing her nose at all these people. And she liked the way it felt.
John lowered his voice. "Anne, I guess we'd better go. It looks like Pat is feeling the bubbly a little."
Then followed a seemingly-unending procession of hotel bars, topless clubs, and finally, a last bottle of champagne after hours at an out-of-the-way after-hours club that Pat knew about. Anne was completely at ease, and by this time, she didn't give a damn who saw her.
"Hope is not lost yet," toasted John, clinking his glass against Anne's. "I know where there is one more bottle ... in the bar refrigerator at my hotel suite. I had it there just in case."
"Hooray!" chorused Pat and Edmund. "What are we waiting for!"
"Hotel Suite..." Those words triggered an alarm somewhere deep in Anne's subconscious.
"Oh, no ... I mean, I must be getting home ... It must be terribly late." She struggled desperately for a legitimate excuse.
"Come on, Anne dearie," interrupted Pat.
"Let's scout for a powder room. You fellows just sit tight. We'll be back in a minute."
She took Anne by the arm and led her across the dim room. The tiny club was decorated like someone's den, and they had to weave in and out between sofas and chairs sprawled around.
"Listen," Pat began when they reached the restroom. "Don't be so uptight. Loosen up a little. These guys just want to have a little fun. Now it's been a good night up 'til now. Don't blow it."
"I can't help it, Pat." Anne could feel her eyes clouding, and she felt silly for being such a child. "I just can't help it, that's all. I'm not going to his hotel with him. The deal was for sightseeing and dinner, and I think I've more than lived up to my bargain."
Pat seemed to sober up in a single breath.
"Wake up, sweetie. This is not Victoria England. It's the twentieth century. Get a little fun out of life. Do you plan to sit on your hot little tail until your old man comes back? What do you think he's doing over there in Vietnam?"
"Don't talk like that," cried Anne. "Bob's got nothing to do with this. I can make my own decisions. And besides, he's in combat. Risking his life all the time, that's what he's doing!"
"Sure. And I hope he gets a medal," continued Pat. "But what about those three-day passes in Saigon? And those R&R leaves in Australia, or wherever it is they go? What do you suppose he does then? Read a book?"
Anne was an inch from bursting into tears.
"How can you say things like that? Bob's faithful to me, I know he is!"
Patricia eased off. "Okay, forget it. You do whatever you want to, but I'm warning you, don't blow this for us. Mrs. Horne won't be too happy with either of us if you do. Here, wipe your eyes before you ruin your make-up."
She handed Anne a tissue from her purse.
"Now, that's better," she said reassuringly. "Edmund and I will go ahead in his car. And you and John can come when you're ready. He'll know something is wrong, but you do the best you can to keep him happy. All right?"
Anne agreed, and returned with Pat to the dim room.
Patricia and Edmund left, and Anne finished a cup of black coffee with John.
"Anytime you're ready, we'll go," said John cautiously.
John recovered their coats, and they climbed into his rented car for the drive to the Adler Inn. Anne had never been there, but she knew it was elegant-and expensive. A uniformed doorman met them as they eased to a stop at the end of the long, sweeping drive. The whole area was lit with blazing torches, and gave the hotel a "Hollywood" look as well-dressed couples stepped gracefully from their limousines and sports cars.
"Wow, this place is too much!" was all Anne could say.
John held her arm as she left the car.
"Don't be too impressed. It's all on the company expense account," he admitted. They crossed the spacious lobby and stopped in front of the main desk. John asked for, and received, another key to his suite.
"I gave Edmund my key, so they wouldn't have to wait in the lobby," he explained. "And now I've got to make a call to my boss. I'll use the phone in the restaurant. Wouldn't want the old boy to know I was having a good time."
Anne suspected his boss was more-likely his wife. Men don't usually call their boss long-distance in the middle of the night.
"Certainly, go ahead. I'll wait for you," offered Anne.
"No, no. I can't have you standing around the lobby. Some horny conventioneer would cart you off in a minute. You take this key and let yourself into my suite. Help yourself to anything you want. And I'll be along in a second."
Anne took the key, and gave the elevator boy the floor number. He gave her a knowing grin that was almost a leer.
"Yes, ma'am. Anything you say."
CHAPTER 3
Room 1028 was at the far end of the carpeted hallway. Anne fumbled the key in the lock, making a purposeful noise to signal her entrance. She wasn't quite sure what to expect as she stepped into the darkened room. The drapes were open, and she could see the moving lights of the freeway ten stories below. Barely audible music was coming from somewhere. The suite was obviously large, with doors opening off of the main room on both sides.
Damn it, where is the light switch!
Anne ran her hand along the wall beside the door, but it wasn't there. Tripping twice over unseen furniture, she made her way to the bar in front of the window.
Here's that silly switch.
Anne started to turn the rheostat switch, and the lights came up to a dim golden glow.
And then she heard it. Patricia and Edmund were in the blackness of the bedroom just a few feet from her side. She gently eased the switch back, and again the room was dark. Should she speak or remain quiet? She started to tip-toe away, and wait quietly for John, but the voices coming from the darkness held her like a magnet, her ears straining to catch what they were saying. It was somehow exciting, like a kid sneaking a peek at his older sister and her boyfriend; and though Anne knew she shouldn't listen, or at least let them know she was there, she didn't. She just stood there at the end of the bar in the dark.
"...It's big enough for me, honey ... Oh, come on..."
"...No, he won't be here for a while yet. Said he wanted to call his old lady. Isn't that something, two good-looking chicks, and he wants to call his wife."
Anne could only pick up parts of the conversation, but it didn't take much effort to figure out what was going on. She wasn't really surprised; actually, she had expected Pat to go to bed with him. She only wondered how she would be able to escape the same fate herself. John would be there any minute, and it wasn't going to be easy to say no diplomatically, with Pat and Edmund pawing each other in the bedroom.
Maybe I should get out while I can, she wondered. But what will Mrs. Horne say? Surely she will understand. I mean, this isn't the kind of thing she expects. She said so herself-that my job is to show them the sights, and a good time. John seemed nice enough, maybe I should just wait and explain to him that I'm not that sort of girl.
Just then the light flashed on from the bedroom and Anne crouched behind the bar, out of their sight. She was too embarrassed to show herself now.
"Good Lord, why am I hiding here? I'm an adult. I'll just stand up and let them know I'm around.
Anne peered around the corner of the. mahogany bar, into the room. Someone was under the covers, but she could only see one figure. The bedside lamp was the one that had just been switched on.
"Hurry up. What're you doing in there?"
A door shut somewhere, and Pat walked into Anne's line of sight. She was stark naked.
Pat had loosed her hair from its upswept bonds, and thick handfuls of it tumbled over her shoulders in coal black waves. Her skin was flawless; ivory softness that contrasted so starkly with her dark hair, that hung past the middle of her back, and brushed over her rigid, cocoa brown nipples as she walked. Her breasts needed no help from a bra, they jutted out proudly in twin, firm mounds, without a trace of sag. She stopped in the middle of the room, staring at Edmund in the bed, unaware of
Anne's presence just a few yards away. Anne couldn't stand up now! How could she let Pat know she had been watching her parading nude before Edmund.
Pat brushed aside the hair from her breasts, tossing it all over her shoulders so that it hung behind her. She placed her hands on her flat stomach, and slowly, ever so teasingly, slid them up until they were both nestled under the full, soft mounds of her breasts.
She crawled onto the large bed, her full resilient breasts dangling beneath her, sexually rocking from side to side with her every movement. She pulled the sheet off Edmund, and the startled Anne could see his full nakedness in the yellow pool of light that surrounded the bedside lamp. He was in good shape, she noticed, very little flabbiness marred his muscular body. Anne couldn't avoid staring at him-she tried to turn away, but the sight of his naked body held her like a magnet. She wasn't accustomed to seeing men without their clothes on, except for Bob, and her eyes remained glued on his bare loins-his cock straight up, rock-hard and muscular like the rest of him, throbbing with anticipation.
The lust-dazed Pat crawled up and over his prone body, arching her long, smooth back in a low curve that swept down toward him, her bulging breasts brushing his legs as she moved slowly up the bed. Her brown nipples were hard and tight, and Anne could see her shiver involuntarily as the tender, pulsing tips teasingly brushed his flesh. She moved her smooth, lean body from side to side, like an animal watching its prey, delicately trailing the points of her nipples across his thighs.
She seemed to enjoy teasing him, for she was grinning lustily like a sensuous cat as he squirmed under her tantalizing advances.
She lowered her head toward his loins, her ovaled lipstick rimmed lips just inches from his hard, pulsing penis. She was looking him straight in the eye, licking her lips slowly, suggestively-easing closer and closer to his aching cock.
Suddenly Edmund could stand it no longer. He thrust his hips upward, driving the burning tip of his prick into her wet, warm mouth. She ovaled them wider to accommodate him, and made no attempt to back away.
My God, Anne thought. What is she going to do?
Anne remembered that once, when she and Bob were making love, that he had pushed her head down into his lap, thrusting his penis near her lips. She remembered, too, how she had frozen-unable to let the fleshy member enter her mouth. Bob had tried to hold her there, but she had broken away and ran from the bedroom. Nothing was ever said about it, but she recalled that he had seemed mad or hurt for weeks afterward.
Is this what he wanted me to do? Is this the awful perverted act he had tried to make me perform ?
Anne was transfixed, her eyes glued on the obscene spectacle lighted like a stag movie before her. Her vision sometimes blurred a little-from the champagne-but she could see well enough to make out what was going on in the next room.
She watched in amazement as the long, glistening cock slithered between her pursed lips, ovaled tightly around it as it plunged deep into her throat, then pulled out until only the bulging, red tip was sheltered in the wetness of her hungrily sucking mouth. Anne had never seen anything like it-and she stared in disbelief as the long, throbbing penis disappeared again and again between her rounded accommodating lips.
She could not pull herself away-as she watched, a sort of evil, perverse thrill made her shiver: It was like watching something forbidden, and she couldn't take her eyes away.
Locked in her hypnotic state, Anne failed to notice the brief flash of light that pierced the darkened room as someone opened the door behind her. A shadow made its way across the room. Suddenly she glanced it from the corner of her eye.
"Oh...!" she gasped, but a hand clasped quickly over her mouth.
"Sh-h-h. It's only me," he whispered. "John." He took his hand from her face. "Don't let me interrupt the show."
Anne felt her face turn bright red, as she turned her head, trying to avoid looking at him.
"Don't be embarrassed. I won't tell anyone," he continued. "Just keep quiet and watch."
With two strong hands, he guided her head back around toward the obscene show in the bedroom.
"You weren't having any difficulty peeping before. Now watch when they really go at it he ordered.
Anne mumbled her assent beneath his hand and surrendered to the lewd spectacle. She couldn't believe it! Her eyes widened in amazement. She was sure Patricia would strangle on the long, slithering cock buried obscenely between her pursed lips. But somehow she managed to swallow its full, moist length, sucking at it voraciously, as though a long-unsatisfied hunger were suddenly being fulfilled.
The whole, lurid scene was forbiddingly fascinating, as Pat's rounded lips gripped tightly around the fleshy shaft driving into her mouth. Her cheeks puffed as she choked to nestle every inch of the long cock in her hungry mouth. She had turned into a seeming wild, uninhibited animal before Anne's disbelieving eyes!
Her eyes seemed glazed by some unknown powerful force, her entire body trembling with excitement as she sucked hungrily on the long, hard penis bucking wildly into her eager lips. Though fifteen feet away, Anne could hear a low, animal moan coming from deep in Pat's throat, as she gagged on the rigid instrument buried in her mouth.
Anne could feel her own body growing warmer and warmer as she watched, enraptured, the amazing display; and she tried not to notice the ever-widening wetness between her own legs, as her own slowly awakening vagina spread a thick, sticky moisture over the constrictive fabric of her pantie's crotch band.
Through the dim light, Anne could see Pat's soft, elastic lips gripping hungrily the throbbing, hard penis rocking back and forth into her mouth. A tiny, white rim of fluid circled the shaft nestled between her lips, and Pat's face twisted with unrestrained lust as she sucked harder and harder on the white cock. She sucked and pulled so hard that it seemed she would jerk the long shaft from his loins. Pat's smooth, rounded buttocks thrust upward as she burrowed against his hairy pelvis, two taut, firm mounds that squirmed invitingly in the empty air. She was obviously swallowed up in a mindless frenzy of uncontrollable lust, and soft moaning gasps made their way from between her tightly ovaled lips.
Her hips began to thrust back and forth, grinding in a slow rhythm as her loins ached for hard, plunging relief. As her warm, wet lips and tongue continued their methodical spiraling up and down Edmund's rock-hard cock, building the desire in his belly higher and higher, Pat's own loins began to ache with burning intensity; and her rhythmic sucking grew faster, accompanied by even more abandoned grinding thrusts of her bare buttocks.
Without even knowing it, Anne began to involuntarily sway her hips ever so gently from side to side-in perfect rhythm with Pat's lusty grinding. She had become so caught up in watching Pat and Edmund, that she had nearly forgotten about John standing behind her. His arms were around her waist, locked under her breasts; and she could feel him ease slowly forward until his pelvis was flat against the mounds of her slightly squirming buttocks. She could feel a growing stiffness in his pants that pressed in a hard bulge into the soft yielding crevice of her buttocks, forcing the fabric of her dress tightly into the narrow furrow, sending tiny shivers of unwanted pleasure rippling through her belly.
John loosened his grip around her torso, and eased his hands up and under the smooth, firm curve of her breasts, still protected by the fabric of her dress. His opened palms eased further upward, over the twin mounds, then closing like pincers on her tender nipples, jutting up in tiny points through the cloth. His fingers closed around both her throbbing nipples, opening and closing, in the same rhythm kept unendingly by Pat's upturned crotch fifteen feet away.
His hands opened wider and covered the soft mounds of her firm, young breasts, massaging and cupping them in a tantalizing, grinding circular motion.
The sensation was just too much! She squirmed eagerly against the growing hardness resting in the narrow crease of her buttocks.
John stopped his massaging just long enough to find the zipper on the back of her dress.
She felt a momentary urge to run! To run as far away from all of this as possible. She remembered Bob, her husband and her vows to him when he went away. But the aching in her belly had escaped her control. All the lonely months without a man raced past in her mind. All the countless nights alone in her bed-
She shivered as the zipper slowly crept tantalizingly down her back, exposing her bare back to the chilled air. John slipped the edges of the dress over her shoulders, and began to kiss her lightly along the long, smooth expanse of her now nude back. Again his hands made their way around her body, and up the soft plane of her belly to the soft, warm mounds now so fully open to his touch. Anne felt as if all hope were gone-as if she had truly surrendered and all hope was gone. She bit her lip to hold back the tears-torn between what she thought to be right-and the all-consuming desire that ravaged her body.
His hands cupped the bulging mounds eagerly, squeezing her raw nipples between his fingers, squeezing them ever so tightly, until she thought she could stand no more. His loins were thrust even harder back behind her against the crevice of her buttocks, and she could feel the hard bulge swelling, aching in its bonds of fabric.
For a moment, she forgot her own plight, as Edmund squirmed around on the bed before her. God! What's he doing now?
He worked his way around on the bed, being careful not to pull his long cock from the wet confines of Pat's hungrily clasping lips. He turned himself completely around on the bed, until his head was between Patricia's knees as she knelt on the mattress. Anne hypnotically craned her head for a better view, as John continued to tease her with excruciating squeezes of her tender breasts.
Suddenly Edmund grabbed Pat's hungrily thrusting buttocks with both hands, jerking her down with a loud slap as she smashed against him, her knees sliding out at an absurd angle from her body. Anne quickly covered her mouth, afraid that she might gasp, as she realized what he was about to do. He was going to do the same thing to her!
Pat didn't miss a beat as she continued to suck on the long, white cock, as if actually trying to swallow it; while Edmund began to nibble tenderly at the soft flesh of her thighs, his head cradled between them.
Anne knew what was coming next, but she didn't know whether to turn away or keep her eyes fastened on the horribly unbelievable spectacle. Her own buttocks were rocking gently back and forth, and John was smashed against her, rocking with her-the bulge in his pants burrowing deeper into the slit of her buttocks.
In front of them, Edmund brought his hands around Pat's legs, his fingers squeezing the soft mounds of her buttocks, working closer together toward the warm open wetness of her cunt.
His thumbs worked their way around the curve of her buttocks, until they were massaging the fleshy outer edges of her cunt, gently rubbing the pink flesh, all of it moist and glistening. Anne held her breath as his thumbs began to slowly part the tender flesh, spreading it outward, brushing aside the soft pubic hair, and exposing the warm, inviting slit of Pat's softly pulsating vagina.
The hardening bud of her clitoris could be faintly seen, a tiny nodule pulsing and growing just above the tight, fleshy opening of her vagina.
Edmund buried his face in the warm wetness of her cunt, his long tongue lashing out in a rapid-fire burst, licking teasingly at the incredibly sensitive bud quivering just a scant inch from the opening of her flaming cunt. Pat snapped like a whip as the first contact was made, her thighs smashing tightly together, trapping his head in a soft, fleshy grip.
Slowly, tantalizingly, his hard tongue probed the soft, pink flesh around the warm throbbing hole, circling the nub of raw nerves, touching it-sending wracking shivers of ecstasy through her tortured body.
The obscene spectacle had become even more unbelievable than before!
Anne could only stand with her mouth open-seeing, but not really believing, as Pat's buttocks twisted and squirmed lustfully while Edmund ground his face deeper and deeper up into her open wet crotch, his tongue probing deeper and deeper into the soft, ragged opening to her cunt.
Pat's ravaged body was jerking spasmodically, as if out of control, but her lips remained locked tightly around his long, hard prick, now buried to the thick, hardened base between her warm, wet lips.
Then Pat slowed the rhythm of her savage sucking of his long, hard cock, pushing her face flat against his pelvis, then rocking back, letting the wet, glistening shaft slip slowly from her mouth. She eased back until none remained sheathed between her warm, moist lips-only a tiny, white thread of hot fluid that hung delicately between the throbbing, swelled tip of the long prick and the softness of her hungry, ovaled lips.
She seemed to pause to look at the slender shaft, then lashed out at it, snake-like, with her long, probing tongue-as Edmund burrowed his own tongue deep in the flaming-hot wetness of her pussy, forcing his way between the pink, fleshy walls, licking at the raw, sensitive surfaces, driving her insane with desire.
Pat licked around the pulsing tip-now swelled to twice its normal size-and Edmund could feel the surging heat building in his balls-an aching, fiery flood that strained to break free. And he knew he couldn't hold it back much longer.
Sensing his mounting passion, Pat swirled her long, red tongue around the full length of his steel-hard cock, slipping it once again back into the warm, wet shelter of her hungry lips, sliding it along her rough tongue and deep into her throat-every millimeter buried in her greedy, yearning mouth.
Anne felt as if it were she sprawled there on the bed, as tiny shivers of excitement tingled in her lower belly, like minute electric bursts. It was as if Edmund's lips were locked on her clitoris-as if his tongue was licking its way along the damp slit of her vagina.
She would never have guessed that she could become so excited from just watching anything. But it was happening, and there was no denying that she was getting excited. She could feel her nylon panties sticking wetly to her crotch, held by the dampness of her vagina, and she knew it was too late to run-too late to turn away. But she wasn't sure now that she even wanted to turn away. Something about the animal display being unrolled right in front of her kept drawing her closer. Something far back in the depths of her mind kept urging her on, coaching her-and she almost felt like throwing off her clothes and jumping in the bed with Pat and Edmund, letting this total stranger touch her like that-fondle her, caress her, do anything he wanted to with her.
Oh, God, what am I saying? I shouldn't be thinking thoughts like that. What's come over me? Maybe it's the champagne...
She tried to put it out of her mind, but it was hopeless.
Suddenly, she saw Edmund arch up off the bed, burying his wet cock deep in Pat's hungry mouth. So deep that his soft hairy testicles smacked against her nose as he bucked his body upwards. His eyes were shut, and he was biting his lower lip, fucking her with long, hard strokes-fucking her just as surely as if he were driving into her cunt instead of her widely ovaled lips.
And then it happened.
He forgot all about sucking voraciously on Pat's clitoris, all about worming his rough tongue into the warm, soft wetness of her vagina. He grabbed the sheet in two fistfuls, and gave one last lunge into her throat, and it was all over.
His nude body convulsing, he emptied his load deep up into her mouth-squirting it in hot, sticky bursts up between her warm lips as she hovered over him, against the back of her throat and down, choking her as she swallowed again and again to gulp it all down. He gave one last shiver, and fell back against the bed, like a runner collapsing after a race, his soft, rubbery penis slithering from her lips and falling across his upper thigh, still wet with the stickiness of his spent load.
Anne watched in amazement, afraid even to blink for fear of missing a second. She'd never seen anything like that in her life, and she wasn't about to let the opportunity slip by. She knew she would never have had the nerve to watch had she been sober, but she was anything but sober, and she wouldn't have missed it for the world.
John could feel her excitement, and knew the time was right to make his move. He slipped her dress down over her smooth-skinned shoulders, and pulled it, along with the half-bra he'd pushed aside earlier slowly down her bare arms. Anne clutched her hands to her breasts with a low guttural moan, stopping him from lowering it any further.
"No, John, this isn't right. Take your hands off me, please," she whimpered lowly, afraid Pat would hear her and know she had seen the whole thing. The light was off now, and she could see nothing but moving shadows in the other bedroom as Pat and Edmund locked together in a tangle of hot, melting flesh.
"Please!" She almost shouted that, then lowered her voice again. "You heard me ... take your hands off me."
But he wasn't going to be stopped now. He squeezed his hands under hers, between her dress and her bare breasts, and jerked the garment down the rest of the way, leaving her naked to the waist.
Anne lunged toward the window, and tried to squirm away. But his grip was too strong, and he held her flat against his chest with one arm locked around her waist.
"I'll scream ... I'm warning you, let me go!"
"Go ahead and scream," he laughed. "I don't give a damn if you wake up the whole floor."
Just then the door to the bedroom slammed shut.
They must have heard her! Then they knew she was out there all along! Anne felt so humiliated that she could feel herself blushing even in the dark-though no one could possibly see her.
John eased his lock on her for an instant, and she grabbed her chance to get away. Jerking away from his grip, she bolted for the door, not even bothering to cover her exposed breasts.
Only luck wasn't in her corner. In the darkness, she crashed into a piece of furniture, losing her balance. John grabbed her as she fell, and tossed her face first over the edge of whatever it was she bumped.
She found herself face-down in the cushion of a long sofa, bent nearly double over the high padded arm with John holding her down tightly.
She started to scream, then thought of Pat and Edmund running into the room and seeing her in this position, half-naked, her buttocks stuck up in the air like a banner. All the alcohol was totally confusing her-for a minute she thought it was Bob holding her down. And then it all seemed funny to her-almost absurd. But as groggy as she was, she knew she had to get back on her feet. Having her head this low wasn't helping at all.
She wasn't even aware of her dress being tossed up onto her back, or her skirt being pushed up around her waist. But then something happened that she did feel-
John could hold back no longer. Seeing her bent over like that in front of him, her smooth back tapering gently down to her waist, her long legs flaring perfectly at her thighs-it was too much to bear. He slid his hand up along the delicate softness of her inner thigh until he reached the barrier of her smooth white panties. They were like a roadblock to him, one last obstacle between his burning desire and the warm sanctuary of her tight, little pussy. He grabbed the waistband of her panties, and snapped them over the round, firm globes of her buttocks-creamy white in sharp contrast to her well-tanned legs.
Anne had no choice. "Get away! LET ME GO, YOU MANIAC!" she screamed, at the top of her lungs. "Oh, please ... please let me up..." She tried pleading, hoping something would work.
There was nothing but silence as she waited for someone to burst from the bedroom and make this whole awful nightmare end. And then she heard it ... they were laughing. Laughing at her. She knew there was no hope-that Pat and Edmund thought her plight amusing, and, like air from a punctured balloon, all the fight left her. There was not an ounce of resistance left. Anne buried her face in the cushion, unable to hold back the sobs any longer.
Oh, why, why is this happening to me? How can I ever look at Bob again? How can I ever tell him...
John was like a madman. The sight of her soft, naked buttocks thrusting up invitingly at him was more than he could stand. The tightly clasped edges of her moist vagina were like softly puckered lips, eager and waiting for him. Her warm wet pussy was a cozy shelter just made for his aching dick, bursting with desire as he thought of how it was going to be-driving his hard cock deep into her belly-burying it again and again to the hilt in the soft fleshy wetness of her cunt.
He unsnapped his pants and dropped them to the floor, not bothering to step out of them. In hardly a second, his undershorts lay crumpled at his feet.
His plans for her burst like bubbles. He had hoped, in fact dreamed for this moment; this young beautiful girl helpless and naked, waiting for his touch. And his plans had been thorough-he remembered how he had worked it all out in his mind, how he would kiss her and caress her. How his hands would slowly and delicately ease down her breasts and over the flatness of her belly. How he would fondle her, and teasingly stroke the sensitive flesh of her vagina, urging her along, building the hot passion inside her body, until, finally, she would beg him for it. Plead with him to ease her aching need...
But all that was forgotten. Blotted out by the sight of her firm, round buttocks-her pussy so exposed-so vulnerable...
And his thick, throbbing cock was so hard that it ached. And John knew he couldn't wait any longer. He grabbed her by her smooth curvaceous hips, holding them like handles, pinning her like a helpless insect in place.
"Please ... oh, no. Please..." Anne tried one last time to make him stop, tears flooding her reddened eyes. But it was useless.
John lunged forward like a lineman, his prick, its head swelled with desire to twice its normal size, smashing into the soft, pink flesh of her vagina, causing her to cry out, this time in pain.
"Stop! Stop please ... You're hurting me. Oh, God ... pleaseeeee!" Anne was fighting to get away with all her remaining strength, but John had the strength of a dozen men, so en-flamed was his desire.
His cock relentlessly worked its way between the moist lips of her pussy as he maneuvered his hips to find his target, unable to release her even for a second to free one of his hands.
Damn it, where is her cunt! His balls felt as if they had been pumped full of molten lead, heavy and bulging with hot liquid. Just the contact with her soft flesh was enough to swell his aching prick even more, so full now that it seemed about to explode at any second.
Anne squirmed her buttocks from side to side trying to dodge the cruel, hardened shaft jabbing mercilessly at her young defenseless pussy, but it only excited him more. He was like a man who'd been without it for ten years, and her feeble resistance wasn't going to stop him.
His dick nudged against the tightly-puckered opening of her anus, the tiny rings of muscle clamped together to ward him off. And for a moment, he thought of fucking her there.
No, not there. Maybe later; right now I'm gonna' sink this cock right into her belly. One extra-deep lunge for every second she's kept me waiting.
And then he found his mark-the hot, wet opening of her delicious squirming pussy. He pushed forward with all his weight.
"Oh, God, no! ... Please, no!" she begged in a helpless moaning voice.
But there was no stopping him now. He pushed his cock into the warm crevice, pushing aside the soft, pink walls in rippling waves, sinking further and further into her tight, resisting cunt.
Damn, is she tight! She feels almost like a virgin ... You don't suppose ... Oh, Christ no, not in her line of work.
Reluctantly the moist fleshy walls gave way, as his thick cock smashed away at their resistance, and he plunged into the very depths of her belly, his balls smacking loudly against her thighs as he shoved in the last remaining inch.
He'd never felt anything so wonderful in his life. Her pussy was so hot that it seemed to be burning his hardened cock like warm liver as it lay buried to the hilt in its warm, wet depths.
Anne was lost in her tears, feeling no ecstasy, no desire, only a continuous dull, throbbing pain as the walls of her pussy stretched to allow his thick cock to bury itself inside her. She cried until there were no tears left, as he rocked into her from behind, every painful jab building the hatred-the nauseating disgust inside her. Until this night, Bob had been the only one to even touch her there. And now, this near stranger, this man she hardly knew was savagely fucking her, like a stallion mounting a mare, with no regard for her feelings, concerned only with his own animal satisfaction.
John loosened his grip on her long enough to reach down with one hand and finish pulling off her panties-they were still around her ankles. He pulled them off her right foot, and with his own foot, spread apart her bare legs, pushing the smooth calf until she opened her legs wide, widening the wet slit of her cunt. He plunged in even harder, smacking against her uterus with his rock-hard cock.
"Oh! You're hurting me!" she screamed as he drove his dick into her belly. The pain was becoming worse and worse with every pistoning lunge.
And then, like a switch being thrown, and in spite of her fear and shame, Anne slowly began to feel something quite different. Just a little at first, then more, as his long tunneling strokes grew faster and deeper. Harder and harder he pumped into her crotch, his wet glistening cock slithering in and out more easily now as her own secreting vaginal juices began to excitedly lubricate the narrow, stretching passage.
Somehow the pain seemed to be easing. And in its place, another unwanted sensation-a warm glowing ember seemed to be slowly building into a red hot flame deep in her insides, a soft ball of heat that seemed to be growing larger and larger, and spreading at it grew-first her belly, then her crotch and finally her whole body was beginning to feel its warmth.
John could sense her sudden change-he knew his long, deep strokes were getting to the little bitch, and he slowed down the rhythm, still just as deep, only slower and smoother. He watched her back arch upwards, and her young, firm buttocks quiver helplessly and thrust back on his lust-inflated cock, squirming to suck every inch deep inside her hot, wet pussy.
"like it, now, baby?" he asked, giving her a sharp lunge at the same instant so she couldn't answer.
"Aaaaaaaggggh," she groaned, unable to speak as the thick fleshy shaft bore into her.
"I said ... do you like it!"
He pounded his prick into her again, enjoying the way she choked on her words when he fucked her really deep. He liked to see her showing it-showing how good it felt, how she wanted all of it deep in her cunt, stretching the moist fleshy walls and burrowing down deep in her belly.
She was fighting it with every ounce of her will-power and determination, struggling helplessly to hold back her desire as the hot, thick shaft slammed into her again and again. But it was no use-every stroke was sending chills of pure pleasure racing along her spine, and she knew then her helplessly impaled body and lost the battle. She could feel nothing but the huge, fleshy shaft inside her, buried deep in her burning vagina.
She knew now that no matter what happened, she would never be the same person again. She had reached the bottom-the lowest pit of degradation and humiliation. Never would she be able to feel the same, her innocence was gone forever.
"Maybe you didn't hear me, bitch," he sneered. "Do you like it ... Answer me!" He grabbed her hip bones like the sides of a steering wheel, and threw his weight into a quick, deep lunge that went all the way to the bottom of her tortured vagina, smashing solidly against the tender flesh deep inside.
"Oh! Oh, God, yes!" she gasped, barely able to get the words out. "Oooooh..."
That was what he was waiting to hear. He stepped up the rhythm again, plunging his thick cock to the hilt, his pubic hairs, wet with her juices, tickling her as they rubbed the soft sensitive crevice of her quivering ass. Faster and faster he pounded into her, until he thought he would collapse from exhaustion before he could finish.
Every muscle of Anne's tortured body was tightened, and he could see the veins in her neck as she held her head back, her mouth open, her hair tossing like the mane of a prize mare as she twisted from side to side.
"Say, fuck me, bitch," he grinned lewdly behind her hollowing back.
"Ohhhh ... Fuck me, fuck me hard ... Harder, oh, God, harder." Her voice was a hoarse gasp as she choked out the words, hardly knowing what she was saying.
Nothing mattered anymore but the delicious bolts of pleasure streaking through her body like lightning, as she twisted her buttocks hard against his thrusts, climbing his hard, thick cock, grinding her fleshy buttocks against his loins as he stroked into her again and again.
He reached under her belly and lifted her up, making the wet passage perfectly aligned with his long, smooth strokes.
"Ooooooooh," she moaned, the new angle making her body tremble as wave after wave of wonderful pleasure flooded her belly.
John was sweating all over, but he didn't ease his pace. Every hard stroke smashed its way through the soft, warm yielding walls of flesh and into her aching womb. His balls were aching as they slapped again and again against the curve of her tender inner thighs, his strokes growing faster each time.
He rubbed his hands along the smooth rounded cheeks of her buttocks-there was no need to hold her any longer. She could only think of getting all of his pric"k in her as she ground back on it, meeting every thrust with one of her own. Her ragged pink lips were locked tightly around his thick cock, holding it firmly as he rocked in and out, pulling him with every in-stroke, and reluctantly releasing him as he pulled it back for another lunge.
Teasingly he fondled the sensitive hair-lined folds of her pussy as his prick rammed ceaselessly into her, delighting in feeling his own cock slide past his fingers and into her belly. He could hear her soft steady grunts of pleasure as he caressed the pink sucking folds, then worked his way along the wide-spread crevice to her anus, still tightly puckered, but working with her buttocks as she ground her crotch rhythmically back against his loins.
She was as ready as he was. He could feel her tighten, ready to cum, and he quickened his deep strokes, each jab bringing new moans of ecstasy from deep in her throat .
"Oooh! ... Oooh ... Oooh..." She punctuated every thrust with a sharp cry, not caring who heard her. In fact, she had completely forgotten about Patricia and Edmund in the next room. She even failed to notice when the bedroom door opened, and two more people joined them in the darkened living room. Pat and Edmund were behind the bar-the same one she had been behind when she watched them on the bed. They could see everything in the light from the huge window-John's buttocks hollowing as he put everything into his long, deep thrusts-Anne's naked, white buttocks waving high in the air, grinding wetly against him, driving upward to meet his every stroke.
Again and again he pounded deep inside her, smashing into the deep recesses of her belly, grunting and gasping as he fought to keep up the killing pace.
And then he made it! But the wildly writhing young girl was not ready...
"I'm cumming! Ooooh, I'm cumming ... Don't stop ... Don't stop, please!" Her whole body was arched up off the sofa, only her palms holding her up, her desperately driving buttocks thrusting hard back against his hairy pelvis, wet and sticky from her own wildly secreting juices.
But, John could hold back the surging, hot load in his balls no longer. Watching this helpless young girl, writhing in complete wanton abandon, grinding wetly at his crotch-it was all more than he could take. He couldn't hold back-his buttocks were clamped tightly, his muscles fighting to contain the hot flood. Suddenly, his body lunged forward, his hard, bulky cock burrowing one last time in the wet, fleshy depths of her cunt. One, two three ... a half-dozen hot, white spurts blasted into her belly, until finally, his balls were empty-all of his fiery hot load oozing far into the depths of her insides, spreading its wet warmth deep into her belly.
Anne was grinding her naked ass fiercely at his hairy loins, slithering back on his rock-hard cock as he made his last deep plunge into her enflamed pussy.
"No! Not yet ... Not yet!" she pleaded. "Once more ... Oh, God ... just once more..." She smashed her buttocks back against him, pumping his emptying cock, fighting for just one more wonderfully agonizing jab. But it was too late-she could feel the thick shaft deflating inside her, its once hard length now just a soft, fleshy piece of useless penis.
She was so close! Just once more and she would have made it! Anne reached behind her with one hand, grabbing the rubbery deflated prick as it slithered from her hungry cunt, vainly trying to stuff it back in ... just for a minute.
But it wouldn't go in-the fleshy knob fell between his legs and dangled there limply.
John backed away from her a few inches, her hungry clasping pussy still thrusting back at him, as if fucking a phantom lover.
"Oooh ... Don't stop ... please don't stop..." Anne's moaning cries fell away to soft whimpering whispers as she lay there doubled over the sofa arm, her ass still high in the air, her pink, ragged vaginal lips grasping hungrily for something that wasn't there.
'What's the matter, old man? This young thing too much for you?"
Anne rolled over on the sofa, pulling her bare legs up against herself. It was Edmund! He and Pat had been standing there watching! She hid her face with her hands, and tried to vanish into the back of the sofa. Never had she felt so completely humiliated; she felt worse than a whore. At least a whore does her lovemaking in private.
John didn't seem at all embarrassed. In fact, he was laughing right along with them. Anne was ashamed to even open her eyes, unable to look these people in the face.
The three of them were standing alongside the sofa, all of them naked, with Pat in the middle. She reached down to Edmund's crotch, and grabbed his still-hard dick, squeezing it affectionately between her fingers.
"You seem to have plenty left, Edmund. Why don't you climb on and show the snippety little thing what its all about." she suggested.
Anne was afraid to react, the words just helplessly echoing in her head. She could feel their eyes on her, like animals eyeing their prey, and she was too terrified to move.
"Well, that's sort of up to John," answered Edmund. "I'm sure Pat can keep you occupied while I finish her off, though." They all burst into roars of laughter.
Suddenly Anne felt a man's hands on her naked body again. She wanted to scream, to kick and yell and make this whole bad dream end, but she couldn't. Her unsatisfied need quickly flamed into a raging inferno as she felt this man's hand force its way roughly between her thighs. She opened her eyes. It was Edmund-leering down at her, on his knees on the sofa, his long hard cock dangling beneath him like a saber on his belt. His eyes were cold-and fiercely hard like steel.
"Come on, baby," he began. "Open it up!" He clenched his fist and shoved it between her thighs, forcing her legs apart. His middle finger slid easily into the warm, wet passage of her vagina, and she could feel the exquisite agony returning, sending shivers of excitement through her ravaged body.
"You'll know what fucking's all about when I get through." Anne could see his clenched teeth as he grinned in the semi-darkness. And then she closed her eyes-it didn't seem to matter who he was when her eyes were tightly shut. It was a man, and that was all that mattered. A man-any man-with a big, stiff cock to fill the aching need burning in her belly. She had sunk to the deepest depths of depravity, and she knew it. She was nothing but a flaming hot receptacle waiting for a man to fill her, her pink fleshy cuntal lips hungrily grasping for a hard cock to lock around and squeeze dry.
Edmund pushed her legs back roughly, pinning her knees into her chest, turning her glistening wet crotch directly up into his gaze. He held her legs back with one hand across the backs of her thighs, and guided his long, hard cock with the other. He slipped it easily between the soft pouting lips of her vagina, but stopped as the throbbing head disappeared in the warm hair-lined folds-between her wide spread legs.
Anne writhed helplessly, pushing her upturned crotch at him, eagerly trying to quench the fire of unfulfilled desire burning in her quivering cunt with his lust-hardened prick.
But Edmund was enjoying teasing her, he slipped in another inch of stiff flesh, then eased it back out until only the tip remained, spreading the soft elastic lips in an oval around the pulsating head of his cock. "Want it, baby?" he teased down at her?
"Oh, God, yes, fuck me ... Fuck me!" She groaned piteously, her body out of control with burning desire.
"Please ... Please!" She arched her back off the sofa, grinding her pussy up at him.
He grinned again, and smashed into her like a two-ton truck, crushing her under his weight as his long, hard penis sank straight into her belly, pushing aside the sensitive fleshy walls of her cunt as he plunged in one deep stroke all the way up to his testicles.
Anne cried out as he smashed against the delicate flesh at the very back of her pussy. He was reaching virgin territory-neither Bob nor John had ever reached so deep.
She moaned a sigh of relief as his huge dick filled her hungry passage, thrusting smoothly into her as she clasped the stiff shaft with the greedy lips of her vagina, slithering voraciously up the length of his cock, eagerly devouring its entire length.
A few short, powerful strokes with the long hard cudgel were all she needed. John had brought her so close before-within seconds of her climax-and as the stiff prick slammed into the depths of her hungry cunt, her body stiffened, her back arching high, her eyes wild with ecstasy.
She grabbed his buttocks, pulling him tightly against her, driving every inch of his long, hard cock into her crotch. Her juices broke free like a long-dammed river, flooding his pistoning cock and flowing down the crevice of her ass, drenching his hard driving balls as they bounced salaciously against her naked, upturned buttocks.
He took her on, further than she'd ever been before. Tiny purple pin-points of light trailed past, then bright flashes of reds and blues. Her legs were bent straight back, her knees smashing her soft breasts beneath them, her crotch like a flat plane as he continued to thrust again and again into her open, steaming pussy. Her juices flowed like a melting flow of hot lava down the rounded cheeks of her squirming buttocks.
Edmund gasped aloud as his sperm burst in flaming hot waves into her gaping pussy, shooting deep up into her belly where it mingled with that already pumped into her greedy womb by John. The hot, sticky spurts pumped into her with the force of a fire nozzle, blasting again and again until she thought it would fill her with its sticky whiteness.
Her hungry wet walls sucked the bucking shaft until there was nothing left, every tiny drop milked into her womb. She collapsed on the sofa, every ounce of life drained from her young body, still quivering uncontrollably as the last glowing coals of wanton desire slowly cooled. Her crotch was so bruised and sore that she couldn't close her legs, the tender flesh throbbing from the savage assault on her loins.
"That was quite a show," she heard John say somewhere in the darkness. "Now let's see if I can top it."
CHAPTER 4
Anne lifted herself half out of bed as the telephone rang for the third ring, but she was unable to make it to her knees. She fell back on the pillow, her head still spinning from the champagne of the night before, and her stomach churned from the unfamiliar assault her body had endured.
But it wouldn't stop ringing. And slowly, and painfully, Anne was able to struggle her way across the room.
"Hello." She wasn't quite sure it was her own voice that came from her throat. It sounded so hoarse and strange.
"Good morning, Anne," came the cheerful reply. But Anne was in no condition for congeniality this early.
"Uh ... hello." The voice was familiar, but she wasn't sure. "Is this Mrs. Horne?"
"Yes, honey. I'm sorry. I should have identified myself," she apologized. "I hope I didn't wake you."
Anne glanced at the bedside clock. It was eleven-thirty. "Oh, no," she lied. "I was already awake. Just taking a little rest." It wasn't very believable, and she knew it.
"Great. I just thought I would check and see how you liked your first night on the job. Did you see all the sights?"
Anne couldn't believe her ears. She doesn't know!
She tried to clear the fuzz from her brain, trying to sound alert-as if nothing were out of the ordinary.
"Oh, yes," she answered. And, as an after thought, "Have you talked to Pat?"
Anne wilted with relief as Mrs. Horne said she had not.
"Uh ... Mrs. Horne..." Anne was trying to bring her mind into shape. She knew she must pick her words carefully. "Mrs. Horne," she continued. "I've been doing a lot of thinking. You know ... about this job and everything. And I'm afraid I will have to look around for something else. I mean, it's just not what I would like to do." She paused for a moment, hoping Mrs. Horne would say something. But there was only silence. "I certainly don't mean it as anything personal," she went on. "I am truly grateful for your offer, but I'm sure now that it's just not the job for me." Anne gripped the receiver tightly, breathlessly standing by for the reaction, whatever it might be. Finally, Mrs. Horne spoke.
"I understand, honey. Some girls are cut out for this kind of work, and others aren't. You aren't the first girl who thought she wasn't suited for this sort of thing. A lot of girls have had a difficult time of it ... I mean, adjusting to the idea of going out with men for money. It just takes a little time that's all. In a few weeks..."
"But you don't understand," Anne interrupted. "I don't want to wait a couple of weeks. Last night was the first and only date ... I'm giving my notice, effective now." Anne was a little surprised at the sternness of her own voice, but she was sure it was necessary. Better to hurt her feelings now, than to let her down later, she thought.
"Well, Anne, I'm sure you want to do what is best. You seem like that kind of person to me. And nobody knows what is best for you better than you yourself. But just the same, why don't you come by my office this morning, and let's talk about it. I'm sure we can work something out."
But Anne insisted. "No, I'm sorry, Mrs. Horne, but my mind made up. I hope I haven't let you down or anything..."
Suddenly Mrs. Home's voice changed. It stiffened with an uncharacteristic severity.
"Anne," she began sharply, "be here at three o'clock. No later. We'll discuss it then."
"But Mrs. Horne..."
"I'll hear about it then. Nothing more now. Three o'clock. Good-bye." And then the line went dead .
Anne couldn't believe it. She heard it, but somehow it wasn't real. like a bad dream. Or maybe a movie. How could sweet, understanding Mrs. Horne talk to her like that. Was it something she had said? She had tried to be as tactful as possible. What caused her to suddenly change like that?
Anne fell back painfully on the bed. She had been so caught up in her telephone conversation with Mrs. Horne that she hadn't even noticed the twinges of pain from her ravaged flesh. Pulling the nightgown over her head-something she couldn't remember putting on-she could see the brown shadings of an enormous bruise forming on either side of her reddened thighs. Her vagina felt as if she had been impaled on a tree stump, and all of the muscles down between her legs throbbing with a steady ache.
Steadying herself with both hands on the edge of the bed, Anne rose slowly to her feet. The aches of a moment ago seemed magnified a hundred times. She made her way unsteadily to the bathroom, and opened the faucets for a long, hot soak. The water was like a doctor's prescription-and she settled down into the sheltering warmth until only her head was above water. like a powerful drug, the water soothed her mind and body-clouding the awful memories of the night before, a night that already seemed a million years ago and very far away.
Anne could not remember coming home at all, or even how she had gotten there. That last bottle they had drank was the closing scene in an awful movie. Everything was a blank screen from then on.
She hoped she would never see any of those people again-that maybe by not seeing them she could forget that one terrible night, and that maybe Bob would never have to know.
And that was the part that worried her most-not what those awful people thought of her, but what Bob would think if he found out. She knew she mustn't tell him, no matter how much she wanted to blurt out the whole, sordid story and rush into his arms-where everything would be all right.
Thinking back, it seemed almost impossible. How could a sane woman allow herself to be conned into such a terrible mess ? That was the question she asked herself again and again. But there seemed to be no answer. There wasn't any easy solution-the quick, simple explanation that Anne searched for was not to be found.
She remembered how she had felt the morning after she first allowed Bob to go all the way with her. It was a month before their wedding, and for almost a year she had been holding him off, and they both agreed that sex was something that could wait until they were married. Only sometimes Bob forgot about his promises, and their kisses became caresses, and soon they were on the brink of doing something they had promised themselves wouldn't happen. That night flashed in Anne's memory-they had been at Bob's apartment, and had been drinking with Bob's roommate and his girlfriend. Around eleven, he left to take his girl home, and they were left alone in the apartment. It had started innocently enough, Anne recalled. They were talking about their wedding plans, and about children-the kind of things most people about to be married talk about. Bob kissed her, and it was very exciting, even more so than usual. She remembered that then too, like last night, the alcohol had fogged her reasoning-and pretty soon she had found herself too far along to stop. like a caged animal finding new freedom, Bob had nearly ripped off her panties in the frenzy of passion that followed, and Anne was powerless, even unwilling, to stop him.
Relaxing in the warm bath, Anne thought back to how it had been that first time. Painful, and frightening, much like last night. Bob had been holding back a flood-tide of desire for nearly a year, and he wasn't in any mood that night for moonlight and roses. She remembered how he had jerked her panties down to her ankles, and pushed her legs back against her breasts. Her dress was shoved up in a wrinkled band around her waist, and she was naked from there down. Her bra was already unhooked, and in a quick move he pulled the cups up and off of her full firm breasts. He didn't take time to remove it, but left it, pushed around her chest, her soft breasts trembling with fear of what was to come, and fully open to his view.
She remembered how she had jerked sharply as a sudden, stabbing pain shot through her abdomen. The pain quickly turned to wonderful delight as his finger probed the secrets of her virginal orifice. Closing her eyes tightly, she forgot all about her promises to herself and to Bob, and allowed her body to take control, and the quivering, nerve-shattering electric surges blasted through her body. The rest was easy-another agonizing torture as Bob's cock, hardened like a steel rod from all the months of frustration, smashed painfully through the thin membrane of flesh that separated a frightened virgin from a woman.
Anne couldn't help laughing as she thought of that night-how the next morning she had tenderly lowered herself into a hot tub, and how she had wracked her mind for an escape. She was so sure then that she could never face Bob again. That he would surely never want to marry her after what had happened.
And now it's happened all over again. Only this time the way out isn't going to be so easy. This time it wasn't Bob, and that's something he would never be able to understand, and something I'll never be able to tell him.
Gingerly working past the bruises, Anne washed herself, and climbed from the tub. She could see herself in the mirror-her firm breasts standing out proudly, her lush blonde hair just brushing her shoulders. The soapy water trickled down over her perfectly flat belly, and dribbled into the sudsy triangle of soft, curly pubic hair at the base. Below, her smooth, gently tapered legs...
She suddenly caught herself and for a moment, was red with embarrassment, though no one was around to catch her looking at her own body. That just wasn't the sort of thing normal people do, she told herself. But still, if only for a second, it was, in an evil sort of way, exciting to know her body could create such a lustful desire in a man. That just the sight of her unclothed could do to a man what she had done to John the night before, without even trying. She knew that even to think such a thing was wrong, but for a few moments, it was exciting ... really exciting.
* * *
Finding the courage to open the door to Alice Home's office was the hardest feat of all. Anne wasn't sure why she had come all the way down town just to tell her again that she was quitting. Of course, she could use the money, even though the advance she had received probably took care of most of what she was due. Anne waited at the door for a moment, half-hoping that someone would open it from inside and spare her the decision.
Summoning up all of her bravery, and working her face into a everything's-fine-with me look, she opened the door and strode into the office. Mrs. Horne was at her desk, with the telephone receiver at her ear, but not saying a word. With a sweep of her hand, she motioned Anne toward a chair. Her face was expressionless, not a hint to tell Anne what was going on in her mind.
"I'll just be a minute, dear," she said, with a trace of a smile beginning to appear. "This won't take long."
Anne sat down and tried to appear nonchalant. It wasn't easy, for Mrs. Horne was still staring at her, punctuating her stare with an occasional acknowledgement to someone on the phone. Finally, the call was finished.
"Sorry to keep you waiting, Anne." All of her usual warmth and joviality had returned. "Would you care for a little coffee or something?" She left her desk and crossed to a tiny refrigerator-water cooler that spouted hot water from a red tap. She filled her cup and added instant coffee. "It's not much, but it's the best I have to offer."
"Oh, no thank you. I just had breakfast." Anne lied for the second time in one day. But she only wanted to get this over and leave.
"Well, then, I won't waste any more time," Mrs. Horne began. "I asked you here to try to persuade you to change your mind about quitting." She paused, but Anne only glanced downward, and said nothing. "I've seen this happen many times before," she continued, "And believe me, it always works out for the best. If you would just wait a few weeks before making up your mind, I'm sure things will look much better to you. The first time is always a little rough, and I know it was hard for you to do what you did last night, but you know it's easy work, and the money is the best you would make anywhere."
Anne tightened like a noose. She must know about last night! What if she knows!
"I've given it plenty of thought, Mrs. Horne," Anne said shakily, "And I'm afraid my decision is still the same."
The warm smile vanished from Mrs. Home's face as if wiped away with a sponge. Suddenly the friendly, receptive eyes were like two gray pools, without a trace of warmth.
"Okay, I gave you a chance to continue on your own. But if this is the way you want to play, we'll do it your way."
Anne was trembling. This wasn't the Alice Horne she had met in the store. Not the nice,-likeable woman she had eaten lunch with. "I'm afraid I don't know what you mean.'
"Just sit tight. You'll see plain enough in a minute." Mrs. Horne pulled a leather covered case from her desk, and a small plastic reel. The case opened to reveal a small tape recorder, and she wound the tape from the reel onto the post. In a few seconds, the tape was in place, and Mrs. Horne pressed a button on top. The tape began to slowly wind onto the empty reel.
The tape wound through slowly for an interminable time, the only sound coming out just a steady, low hum. Anne couldn't think of anything to say, but she was too stunned to speak if the words had been there. A shiver squirmed the length of her body, and she bit her bottom lip tightly, not knowing whether to be afraid.
And then a babble of muffled voices began to whisper from the speaker. At first they were unintelligible, just random sounds, as if listening to a telephone receiver while the other end is choked off with someone's hand.
"What's the matter, old man? This young thing too much for you?
"You seem to have plenty left, Edmund. Why don't you climb on?
Anne's face went ash-white as the terrible realization slammed into her like a high-powered bullet. Those voices are Pat and Edmund. The memory was shrouded and unclear, but there was no question about it. That tape was made last night! The words seemed to blast out louder and louder, until they filled the room and threatened to crush her under their awful weight.
"Well, that's sort of up to John ? Fm sure Pat can keep you occupied while I finish her off?
Drunken laughter, followed by the shattering sound of a helpless, tortured girl, almost as if gasping right into the mike.
"Come on, baby, open it up! YOU'LL KNOW WHAT FUCKING'S ALL ABOUT WHEN I GET THROUGH..."
Those horrible, vile words rolled off the walls and bounced back and forth in her brain like rubber balls. Anne covered her ears with both hands, squeezing them until they ached, fighting to keep the awful truth safely out of range.
"No, cut it off! I can't stand anymore," she screamed. "Please, please!" She started to run for the door, her hands still tightly over her ears. "I can't listen to that!"
But her move had been anticipated, and Alice Horne stood firmly in front of the door, blocking her escape from the terrible memories still so painfully fresh in her mind.
"The recorder is off, Anne. So you can put your hands down and stop acting like a ridiculous schoolgirl." Mrs. Horne gripped both her shoulders and aimed her for a chair.
Anne looked up pleadingly, a shower of tears streaming down her cheeks. She tried to speak, but her throat was filled with dry cotton. She couldn't hold it back any longer. Anne buried her head against her chest and sobbed uncontrollably, until there were no more tears to cry.
"How could you?" she gasped hoarsely. "I trusted you. You knew all along what would happen, didn't you. It was all a set-up! Well, wasn't it!" Her plight seemed to give her an extra boost of courage, and she looked the older woman squarely in the eyes.
"You're exactly right, honey. But don't try to make me some kind of horrible beast. You got a good straddling, and you can't tell me you didn't enjoy it. I've heard all of the tape."
She handed Anne a glass of water from the cooler. "Here, drink this. You'll feel better."
Anne was too numb to argue. She would have swallowed the liquid had it been poison. In fact, she might have been grateful for such an easy way out. She wanted to throw the glass at this despicable animal, and run away. As far away as her legs would take her. But she didn't.
No, I won't run, she thought. The ugliness is all right here, and I've got to face it. I won't let her see me cry again.
Alice Horne was back behind her desk, as if nothing had happened since Anne entered the room.
"I'm sorry to put you through that, Anne. I really am. But I'm sure you don't believe that now."
Anne only stared with her mouth half-open, crushed under one incredible absurdity after another. How can this woman do such a thing, and then sit there and tell me she's sorry!
She continued. "You made the decision yourself. In fact, you made two decisions. First, you made your own choice last night. Nobody dragged you to that hotel room, and I don't think anyone tied you down. And second, I offered you the easy way, but you had to be stubborn. I can't understand you, an evening on the town, a good screwing, and getting paid for it to boot! What the hell more could you want from life?"
"Self-respect!" Anne blurted, a little cautiously. "But ... but I guess that's not something you would understand." Anne was recovering her confidence. "You didn't say anything about going to bed with that man. It was just an innocent night on the town, you said. Twenty-five dollars for an innocent evening-that's how I remember it."
Alice Horne smiled for the first time in several minutes. "You're very right. That's another thing. Your pay is now up to fifty dollars per date. I couldn't tell you that before, or you would have figured something was phony."
Anne jumped to her feet. "I don't care if you pay me fifty thousand dollars a date! I'm through. You don't think I would do it again, do you?"
"Oh, yes, Anne. You'll do it again. And again. And again, if I say you will." The trace of a smile was gone again, and the wrinkles turned to cold, gray steel. "I didn't have that tape made for my own enjoyment-although I should say that it was most entertaining in parts. You're pretty thick-headed, aren't you . "
"What do you mean?"
"Simple. That tape would make for an interesting evening's pleasure with our fighting boys overseas. One in particular ... What do you think Bob would say about this little recording you made last night?"
That was the finisher. One last, devastating blow dropped on top of all the others. It actually hadn't hit her until that very instant. Blackmail! The kind of thing you see in movies or read about, but not in real life.
"You wouldn't! ... Not Bob, he's got nothing to do with this!" Anne cried, but knowing her answer already.
"Exactly. He's got nothing to do with our arrangement. And I'm all for keeping it that way. I'd much rather make money out of our association. And help you make quite a bit yourself. But if you want to go on being stubborn and thick-headed, you'll leave me no choice."
The gray-haired woman rose, and stepped to the doorway. "Now, I think we've both had a trying day. Why don't you go buy yourself a new dress or a pair of shoes. I'll talk to you tomorrow." She nonchalantly held out her hand, with five ten dollar bills in it, and opened the door with the other.
"NO! ... NO! ... I WON'T ... YOU HORRIBLE ANIMAL! I WON'T!"
Anne was screaming at the top of her lungs, her eyes wide with unabashed hatred and contempt. The woman slipped the crisp bills into Anne's purse, just an instant before she ran from the office, her face reddened with tears, past a startled man waiting at the elevator, and down the stairway, out into the street.
She didn't see the people stopping to stare as she raced past-past building after building, block after block-until she couldn't run anymore.
* * *
Just a few short blocks from Anne, Dan Mor-son stood in his corner room at the Downtown Arms Motor Inn, his room phone clutched between his shoulder and his ear, and both hands fumbling through the stack of papers on the desk.
They didn't tell you about this in Management Training, did they Dan?
Twenty-five, eight months with Ferguson Precision Tool. One month in orientation, six months in Junior Executive Management Training, and twenty-eight days in marketing. "The youngest man old Ferguson's ever allowed out alone..." And that was something everyone at Ferguson seemed to enjoy reminding him of. Still, it tvas an honor and a privilege to be chosen for a solo sales assignment so soon out of training. Anderson, in accounting, said that most men never make it out without a senior exec by their side until they've worked at least a year inside.
Outstanding accomplishment wasn't new to Dan Morson. It went back as far as high school-top ten-percent, Merit Scholarship Finalist-that sort of thing. Might have been a Merit Scholar at Harvard Business School or Yale, instead of head of the class at lowly Western State College. The top boys at Ferguson Tool overlooked that little error. After all, they admitted, even the best of us make mistakes in judgment.
Dan Morson could have had his pick of colleges-and his pick of companies. But things just didn't work out that way. Somehow Dan just couldn't fill the shoes of the mighty Daniel Howard Morson Sr. Or maybe he didn't want to fill them. Anyway, the people at the Selective Service System helped him make up his mind. Seven months of indecision and drifting around were all they allowed him. Of course, he had let down the honorable name of Morson, not to mention breaking his mother's heart. But now it didn't seem so bad. He had some good times at Western State, and after all, Ferguson Tool is the second largest in its field, and growing every year.
All that theory in Business Administration had washed away like writing in the sand. Dan was on the phone with Jordan of Jordan Machinery. Not exactly the biggest client in
Ferguson's stable, but one that could quickly get a lot bigger. If only he could pull it off.
Landing a new sales order would surely mean a bonus, and maybe, that new car that Peggy's been harping on for months. Not that he could really blame her. That old Chevy had seen its good days long before Dan even thought about college. But the money just never seemed to be there.
And those two years in the Army had dropped him behind a bit in the race for two cars and a house in the suburbs. Some of his ex-high school buddies were way in the lead. A couple were even way into the five-figure brackets, and it was going to take a lot of extra effort to catch up. Peggy Morson had been foresighted enough to latch onto the smartest boy in the senior class-the one voted most-likely to make it big. And who could blame her if it took a little longer than she had expected, and Jane Lancaster has a $30,000 house in Sherwood Oaks, and Alice Graymer's been to Europe twice with her husband Ed. I mean, you can't really blame a girl for wanting the best out of life.
"...You and I both know that it can be done. You just get on that little hot line and tell that fat ass Ferguson that I said I want 90 day delivery. He can move some of that crap off the line and push this through. Call me when you're ready to deal. Good-day."
Wouldn't you know it? First time out, and I get a winner like this. Dan knew Jordan was bluffing-that he was just throwing his weight around because he knew he had a rookie on the string. But smart salesmen don't tell presidents of client companies that they're full of bullshit.
Dan just left the receiver on the desk. It seemed useless to call the home office. And they wouldn't be too pleased if their star rookie came running back with his tail between his legs after just one time at bat. No, that's not the answer at all.
Better put the phone back on the hook. Four o'clock and just about time for Peggy to call. Got to wait for her to call. That way all those personal calls won't pile up on the expense account ledger. Can't be too cautious.
Damn it, why doesn't she call? I could have left this goddamn room long ago. Probably gone to another one of her country club teas. They couldn't really afford it, but Peggy had pleaded and begged until he had to give in or move out. Dan had only been to the club once since paying their fifteen-hundred dollar initiation fee. And that was for a Under Thirty Dance that he couldn't let Peggy attend alone. He'd said no at first, but he let himself be pushed into it. Being pushed into things wasn't new for Dan either.
* * *
Anne had been holding that pen so long her fingers were getting cramped. But the paper was still a very obvious empty white. It was only natural to want to run to Bob at a time like this. Only how could she even begin to tell him? How could she explain what she was doing in a hotel suite with a strange man in the middle of the night?
What can I say? She asked herself again and again. He's thousands of miles away. How can I burden him with this awful mess?
It was hopeless-the words were impossible to find. Anne decided to end the day the way it had began-in a steaming hot bath. She still felt slimy-as if only a river of water could possibly wash away the filth of last night. Anne knew how it must feel to be a whore-a common streetwalker. And then it hit her-that's exactly what she was.
That awful woman has turned me into a whore! A married whore!
Streaming tears were mingling with the rivulets of perspiration from the hot water all around her, and Anne sank back even deeper, vainly seeking the only warmth in reach.
Oh, God, if only Bob were here!
CHAPTER 5
Anne waited outside the door to room 1101, afraid of what might be waiting for her inside. All she could think of was that night with Pat and those two men-and Mrs. Home's threat to play the tapes for Bob. She had refused at first to come, even when Mrs. Horne renewed her threat, but she had been forced to finally give in. No matter what was waiting on the other side of that door, she knew she just couldn't let that tape recording be played again-not for Bob, not for anyone. Until there was another way out, there was no choice but to follow Alice Home's orders, no matter what.
She reached out to knock on the door, then pulled her hand away, trembling like a frightened animal.
I can't. I just can't.
The steel elevator doors whirred open a few feet behind her. A bellboy dressed in white rolled a cart loaded with covered silver serving dishes, out into the corridor.
Anne stepped away from the door and tried to disappear into the wall.
"Ma'am, could I help you?" he asked, with that certain indefinable inflection found only in bellboys and waiters.
"No! No..." She almost shouted her reply. "No, I'm fine, thank you." Anne turned away, hoping he wouldn't push the point any further.
The bellboy gave her a bewildered look, then rolled his cart on down the hall, looking back halfway down, and shaking his head.
It was then that Anne Hartley remembered again the awful truth: that she was nothing more than a hotel call-girl; that no matter what she called it, it still came out the same-she was a prostitute, plain and simple. She remembered that look the elevator operator had given her when she went up to wait for John Montgomery at the Adler Inn, and now the bellboy here at the Downtown Arms. There was no escaping it-the terrible truth kept popping out at her no matter how hard she tried to escape it.
She thought quickly about the other girls in her classes at school. Some of them working at good jobs, some happily married and raising children.
And that's the worst of all, she thought. How can I bring children into this world? How can
I ever look my children in the eye, knowing what I am, what I have become...
She felt her eyes getting moist, and she knew it was now or not at all.
Either I knock on that door or I get out of here-and face the consequences.
She gave it two light raps with the back of her hand. It opened only a foot and Anne heard a man's voice from inside.
"Come on in, I'm on the phone."
She stuck her head in first, then cautiously entered the room. A young man, not much older than her, she guessed, was standing by the window, his left hand holding the telephone receiver to his head. He was talking to someone about "assembly down-time" or something like that.
Anne stood shyly beside the door, not sure what to do. After a couple of minutes he put the phone down, and turned to her, obviously mentally appraising her as he looked her over from head to toe. Anne felt as if he was undressing her, and she blushed.
"Well, well. So you're my date for the evening. 'A wonderful girl for a simply wonderful night on the town'. I think that's what the lady said ... Right?" he asked sarcastically.
Anne didn't like his attitude or the way he talked. "Listen, mister, I'm not too crazy about being here, so don't rub the wrong way, or you can find yourself another date." She surprised herself with her bravery.
He looked at her with his mouth open. "Wow! What brought all that on ... I'm sorry if I said something to offend you."
"That's okay," said Anne sheepishly. "I guess I'm just a little sensitive tonight. It wasn't your fault."
"Good. We can start over, and do it right this time. I'm Dan Morson," he said, holding out his right hand. "And I hope your name is Anne, or I've made a hell of a mistake."
Anne laughed. "No, I'm afraid the mistake would be mine. But you're right, my name is Anne."
Dan helped her take her coat off, and draped it carefully over a chair. "Is that your whole name-just Anne. The lady at the agency wouldn't tell me any more."
Anne hesitated before answering. There didn't seem to be any reason for not telling him her whole name. She wasn't listed in the phone book, and she certainly wouldn't give him her address.
"There is a last name. It's Hartley. Anne Hartley. I guess Mrs. Horne doesn't give out last names so you have to go through her."
Dan looked surprised. "You know, I didn't think of that. Of course, that's it. She'd be a pretty poor businesswoman if she did it any other way." He stared at her again, not saying anything, just looking. It made her nervous.
"Have you been in town long," she said weakly, desperate for anything to make conversation.
"No, only a little while. I'm here on business ... for the Ferguson Precision ... Oh, hell. You don't want to hear all that. Let me finish getting ready, and we'll go have some dinner. Don't want to waste any of our time, do we?"
Anne wasn't too sure about the way he looked at her when he said that. She knew it was almost hopeless to even think such things, but maybe, she told herself, just maybe this date will be different.
Dinner was at the Stage Lounge. It certainly wasn't the best place in town, but Anne wasn't complaining. It could have been a lot worse. Dan stuck to the small-town favorite-steak and baked potato, but Anne decided to try seafood.
One thing for certain, Anne laughed to herself. At least I won't starve to death working for Alice Horne.
They suffered through a very unfunny second rate insult comedian, then Dan asked for his check. She noticed he asked the waiter to please put it on two separate checks, and he would pay both of them. It didn't seem quite right to ask him about it, but Anne was curious, and the three drinks they had each downed before dinner made her a little bolder than usual.
"I know it's none of my business, but why did you have the dinner put on two checks?"
He looked like the kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Nothing crooked or anything like that. I hope that doesn't disappoint you. It's terribly honest, as a matter-of-fact. The company pays for my dinner but not for yours. I can hardly take you off as business entertainment, can I ? "
"No, I guess not," replied Anne. "But you're the first person I've ever known who was honest about his expense account!"
"I suppose you could say I'm a company man," laughed Dan.
* * *
Later, Anne could feel the cold chill of apprehension returning as they entered the elevator to go up to his room. But it didn't seem the same this time, and it wasn't just the drinks that were responsible. Somehow the prospect of going to bed with this stranger didn't seem as terrible as before. Anne was afraid to admit it, but she wasn't frightened of this man anymore. It wasn't that she had changed her mind about the job-it still was just as disgusting as before, only now she knew for her husband's sake she would have to face whatever happened and then just walk away.
Dan flipped on the light beside the sofa, and turned the television dial selector to the piped music position. The room wasn't really a suite, and hardly compared to the one at the Adler. It was L-shaped, with a living area that occupied most of the space, and a bed and dresser tucked neatly away in the short side of the L.
"Make yourself at home. I've got to write something down before I forget it," he explained, pulling a leather briefcase from the closet. He sat down at the writing desk, with his back to Anne.
Anne was a little tipsy, but she could still think clearly enough to realize how absurd this scene was. They both knew what was next, and there was nothing she could do about it, except run. And that was out of the question. Especially now that this man had spent his money and wanted something in return.
For courage, she poured herself another drink from the bottle of scotch conveniently placed on the table by the sofa and added a little soda water.
My, my, she laughed, he's certainly thought of everything.
She downed the drink in four good-sized gulps, and stood up to see if he was through with his note-taking, or whatever it was he was doing. But he wasn't at the desk; he'd gone into the bathroom. Anne could hear the water running.
That last drink went straight to her head, for the room started spinning crazily when she stood up. She steadied herself on the edge of the table, nearly knocking the scotch over as she grabbed for something to hold herself up.
The room slowly spun to a halt, and she let go of the table and stood erect.
What the hell's he doing in there? He may have paid for my company, but that doesn't mean all night.
Still no sound from the bathroom except the running water.
Anne reached in back and unsnapped the catch at the top of her dress, and pulled the zipper down to her narrow, curvaceous waist.
This is what he paid to see, so I'll show it all to him...
Dan stepped from the bathroom just as Anne dropped her slip to the floor. She was standing in front of the sofa, clad only in her bra and panties; her dress, slip and panty hose lying in a pile at her feet. Her body was a golden brown in the subdued light from the one lamp burning in the room.
Dan stopped short as if grabbed by some unseen hand, his eyes wide as he looked at her half-naked body. She had the figure of a young Venus, and the sheer whiteness of her two remaining garments only doubled the effect. Her firm breasts stood high over the cups of her bra, two wonderfully rounded mounds separated by a deep crevice, her pink nipples peeking ever so slightly over the top of her bra. Her firm, young body tapered gently to a trim, narrow waist, then flared again in the mellow fullness of her hips, with her white panties hugging tightly the outline of her hips and softly bulging buttocks. They were low-slung, and dipped in front as the elastic band crossed her flat belly, a few tiny, light pubic hairs slipping out from the bulging triangle barely concealed by her panties.
Anne didn't move as he explored with his eyes every inch, every crevice of her young body.
"Well, don't look so shocked," she said bravely, her hands on her hips, her breasts jutting straight out at him. "You paid for it ... its yours." She knew this evening would be like the other one, and the sooner it was over the better.
"Now wait a minute ... I didn't expect it to be like this. I mean ... I expected a little fun first, you know..."
"If you want moonlight and champagne," interrupted Anne, "You'll have to find yourself another girl." She couldn't believe the words were really coming from her. She sounded so cold and callous that it must have been someone else talking.
"Well, you make it all sound so mechanical. Put a quarter in the slot, and hurry before your time's up. Is that the way it is with you ? " asked Dan.
"No ... not usually..." Anne was fast building a lump in her throat. The hard-as-nails character wasn't her, and she was fast losing her tough facade. "But that's the way it is tonight ... take it or leave it." She only wanted to get it all over with and get out.
Dan put down his drink. "Okay, sweetheart. We'll play your way. But just remember, it was your idea."
Anne was frightened. Maybe her little game wasn't working.
"What do you mean..."
She was caught short as Dan pushed her roughly onto the sofa. "Just shut up and get ready," he spat at her. "The clock's ticking, remember?"
He peeled off his shirt and undershirt, then his pants, then stood over her, looking down into her frightened eyes. With his crotch just a foot from her face, he pulled off his shorts, letting his long, thin prick hang down just inches from her trembling lips. He took it between two fingers and rubbed it a little. It wasn't hard yet, but he knew it wouldn't be but a few seconds. And his cock was one thing he was sure about-Peggy may have taken away Some of his manhood, and maybe Ferguson Precision took its share too; but hanging between his legs was the one part he had left. He watched her young voluptuous body quivering, lying on her back on the sofa, and slowly, in jerking movements, his penis came to life, snapping up higher and higher until it stood out straight from his hairy loins-almost eight inches long when he had a hard on.
Anne watched it swell into its full, frightening length. She chilled at the thought of taking that long hardened shaft inside her.
My God, that would go all the way through me!
But she couldn't keep from noticing his build
-lean and muscular, rock-hard all over, just like his stiff cock shooting out from his middle. There didn't seem to be an ounce of fat anywhere on his hard body. Anne couldn't remember seeing any man with such an attractive body; in fact, outside of Bob, there hadn't been a man who really turned her on with just his body.
Then she noticed the look on his face as his long cock waved just before her eyes.
Oh, No! Surely he doesn't want me to...
"Get down on your knees, baby. That clock's still ticking."
Blindly obedient, she rolled off the sofa and on to the floor, her eyes not leaving his enormous cock for an instant. Still wearing her bra and panties, she knelt right at his feet. He stepped forward and pinned her with his steel-hard legs, holding her right in front of his cock as it swayed in her face. He gave a short thrust forward, his prick stopping less than an inch from her tightly-closed lips. She turned her head to avoid touching the throbbing head.
"You said it, baby ... I paid for some action, and that's what I want. Suck it!"
She shook her head violently, afraid to open her mouth to say no.
But Dan wasn't in any mood to play games. He reached down and grabbed a huge handful of her soft blonde hair, knotting it tightly in his clenched fist. He could see her face tighten from the pain.
"Now how about it!"
But Anne shook her head again, this time trying to pull away. He twisted the handful of hair until she came off the floor.
"Oh, please ... You're hurting me!" she cried.
"It's nothing to what I'm going to do," he threatened. "Open your mouth!"
She opened her lips just a little, but he tightened his grip on her hair. She could feel it starting to pull out, and opened it wide to ease the pain. As soon as it was open wide enough for the head of his cock, he loosened his painful grip on her hair, and rocked forward, slipping the first couple of inches between her wet lips and into the warmth of her mouth, letting the tip of it rest lightly on her tongue.
"Now, look up at me," he ordered, standing above her like a giant. She looked up, his hard cock still between her lips. "That's better. Now, do I have to hold you by the hair, or will you behave and do this right on your own?"
Anne had learned her lesson already. There was no use fighting it. It was better to get it over with than to put up a struggle. Her crotch ached as she remembered the two men from the night before and all the things they had done to her.
She closed her lips over the smooth rubbery head in her mouth, and sucked on it amateurishly, like a child sucking an all day sucker.
"Come on, you can do better than that. Put a little tongue into it." He pressed another inch or so into her mouth as he spoke, filling it so full she could barely breathe.
Dan was a trifle disappointed. He'd been hoping she'd put up more of a fight. It would have been a pleasure to kick her ass around a little first. But it didn't matter-just watching this gorgeous young girl helpless at his feet, her lips ovaled around his cock was more than enough. Especially after sex with Peggy. With her it was always the straight "missionary position" and nothing else. All he had to do to set her off was to just try and go down on her, or worse still, try to get her down on him. That would be enough for a week of burned toast and few words.
But now he was gonna' make up for all that. He pushed another inch into her mouth, slipping it wetly between her pursed lips. She gagged as he hit the back of her throat, and coughed until he had to ease it back a little. She tried to say something, but couldn't get the words out.
He looked down at her, her blonde head sliding back and forth slowly along the length of his cock. He could see her full, firm breasts and her wide cleavage, partially hidden by her bra. Damn it, that's gotta go...
"Take off your bra, and let's get a better look at those big tits of yours." She started to open her mouth wider and pull back off his prick.
"Oh, no ... You just keep it up. You can reach behind and take that thing off without using your mouth."
Anne slipped it back between her lips, licking around its rock-hard length with her saliva moistened tongue. She unsnapped her bra and brought her arms together in front, letting it slide to the floor. Her full, firm breasts bounced free and swayed from side to side as she sucked on his hardened cock, bumping against each other softly. Looking straight down, he could see her full, young tits clearly, one on either side of his long flesh shaft as it see-sawed relentlessly into her lipstick rimmed mouth.
He placed his opened palms on each side of her head, and held her still as he began to pump rhythmically into her lips, his supersensitive cock sliding over her lower teeth and into the warm confines of her mouth. Her tongue sent chills of pleasure through his lower body as its rough surface rubbed along his prick.
"Oh, baby ... that's good. Use that tongue ... Oh, yes..."
He began to pump a little harder, each long stroke burying a little more of his long, stiff prick between her lips, gagging her every time it hit the back of her mouth.
"That's it, baby. Now I'm gonna' give you some real meat to chew on." Dan was loving every second-this was the first time since high school that he'd really let his hair down and pulled all the stops. All those years of doing the right things, going to the right places, dating the right girls-those were so far behind him now he couldn't remember them. All he could think of was this half-naked young creature at his mercy and sucking hungrily on his aching cock, and he wanted it raunchy-the raunchier and grubbier it got, the better it would be.
Anne was choking and gasping for air. The long fleshy penis slithered across her tongue and down into the sensitive passage of her throat. At first she thought she would choke to death as the long hard cock plunged deeply into her throat, but now the muscles were beginning to relax, and it slid more easily down over the back of her tongue. He pulled it back each time right to her lips, leaving only the tip brushing her lips, then he would lunge forward, tunneling the slippery shaft in until it bumped the back of her mouth where it bent just a little-enough to go down into the sensitive throat passage. It hurt him every time it bent-it was so hard and swollen that the slightest bend made it feel as though it were being broken in half. But it was worth it to slide the long beast down into her warm throat, making her choke and swallow to get it all in. Every time she swallowed the muscles massaged his bursting prick like a thousand little fingers, and he knew it wouldn't be long before it would explode in her throat-already little drops of semen were starting to ooze from the blood-red tips, and she could taste it mingling with the saltiness of his fleshy cock.
He pulled it from her mouth, and held it at her lips, making her nibble at the oozing tip. Her head still hurt from where he pulled her hair, and she knew better than to pull away from him now.
It felt so good he could hardly stand it. His balls ached with the pressure of his hot load, and it was getting harder and harder to hold it back.
He played with her soft, nibbling lips as long as he could. Then let the swollen head slide back between the wet glistening lips and into her warm, eager mouth. He began the long slow movements, holding her head again between his hands and burying his lock cock right up to the brushy hilt in her mouth, his pubic hair tickling her as it brushed against her lips and chin.
"Don't stop 'til I tell you to, you understand? Just keep on sucking ... you're doing fine, baby, just fine."
She couldn't have answered if she had wanted to. The long prick was pumping faster and faster into her mouth, and it was all she could do to keep from choking again, and she knew she had to keep those muscles relaxed or the long, slippery beast would choke her. Again and again he smashed his hard cock down into her throat, past her lips and so deep it seemed to be burrowing right into her belly. She could feel the first twitching beginning deep in his loins, and she knew he was almost there. It was like a rumbling building deep inside him, and Anne knew that any second he would empty his balls down her open throat. But, oh God, there was nothing left to do!
Dan felt the hot semen starting to lap over the floodgate in his balls. He eased his long, deep strokes. He wanted to feel every fantastic drop of his load shoot along the long, hard length of his dick and blast from the pulsing tip into her mouth. He wanted her to choke and swallow and milk him until there was nothing left-until every drop was sucked from his balls.
He leaned back, thrusting smoothly down the soft passage of her throat, holding her head.
Here it comes. Here it comes!
He could feel the white-hot flood rushing out from his balls and up the stiffened length of his cock. He pushed it forward until every bit was buried in her throat, then gave one final lunge.
"Oh, baby ... Suck it! Suck it ... NOW! Oooooh..."
Anne sucked every hot sticky drop of it down her throat like a hungry animal. For suddenly, she thirsted for it like a dying man on the desert. She gulped it down in big swallows as it gushed into her mouth, her hands gripping his muscular buttocks and pulling his loins forward, her wet lips sucking every inch of his long cock into her throat.
Half of her wanted to die-to crawl into a dark cave and never come out. But the other half was pure animal, and that half was firmly in control. There was no stopping her.
She wanted every drop of his life giving sperm, and she sucked him until he was dry, milking wave after wave of the hot, white fluid deep down into her shaking belly.
Dan's cock slithered from her mouth with a wet, sucking sound as he collapsed on the floor. Anne couldn't move-all the strength was drained from her body. She fell back against the sofa, a tiny white trickle of semen trailing from her lips.
And she knew then she'd reached the very depths of depravity. There were no further depths left to go.
CHAPTER 6
"Mrs. Hartley? This is Amos Ryan, with MARS."
Anne answered the voice on the phone with amazement. "With who! MARS? What is this ... some kind of joke?"
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize this was your first call. We're the amateur radio net that works with the fellows in Vietnam. We pick up calls from Southeast and relay them to the folks back home. And that's why I'm calling. Are you the wife of Robert L. Hartley?"
Anne froze with terror. "Oh, no ... Has something happened to Bob? Is he all right?"
"Oh, of course, ma'am. He must be fine; in fact, he'll be talking to you in just a few minutes. As soon as the call is set up."
"Talking to me? You mean, now ... right now!" Anne was leaping up and down like a high school cheerleader. "That's wonderful! Is he on the line now?"
"No, no. It might take a while. You know, it isn't easy radioing telephone calls all the way from Vietnam. You just sit tight, and don't use your telephone. I'll ring you as soon as he's on the line. Okay?"
She tried to sit down and wait, but the tension kept her going like a yo-yo. A few seconds in the chair, and then up for another cigarette. The seconds became minutes, and then an hour passed.
It's been so long. I wonder how he'll sound?
She thought about Mrs. Horne, and the awful mess she was in. But she knew she couldn't tell him. No matter how much she needed desperately to run to him, if only by phone. She couldn't think only of herself. And what could he do so far away?
Those awful movies of the forties that pop up on the late show. She thought of those. How some poor guy had gone out into battle thinking about the "Dear John" he got, or the bad news from Mom. And she knew she wouldn't do anything to add even the slightest risk to the horror Bob was already facing. Even remembering for an instant the total degradation of the two nights she had suffered through made her breakfast begin to creep back up, but no matter how bad she felt, she knew it mustn't show in her voice. This was nothing to the way it would be without Bob-knowing that she might have helped him into a grave.
She tried to clean up the apartment. Anything to make the minutes move even a little faster.
Maybe he can't call after all. What if he's been sent out on patrol or something? It was as if he were so close, yet out of reach.
Anne nearly leaped on the phone when it rang.
"Yes, Bob is that you? Hello ... Hello?"
It wasn't dead. She thought she could hear someone talking.
"Mrs. Hartley, this is Amos Ryan again."
"I'm right here. Have you got Bob yet?"
"Just sit tight. Only a few seconds now ... And since this is your first call-it comes over the air waves, through a transmitting set-up on his end, and is picked up by a MARS operator like me ... And I patch it into the telephone here at my house. So remember ... well, remember you're on the air, and anybody with the right receiver can hear the conversation. So don't ask him any questions about his company, or troop movements or anything like this."
"Yes, sir," Anne replied, "I'll remember."
That solved the problem for me anyway, she thought. I couldn't very well tell him about this on the radio!
"Hello, Anne ... Are you there, honey?"
She could feel the tension unwind like an uncoiled spring. "Oh, darling, I'm right here. It's so wonderful to hear your voice..."
At least she didn't have to hold back the tears. She tried to keep her agony out of her voice. And it was like talking with someone else's voice as she babbled on about the letter from Bob's parents, and how everyone was fine, and how much she missed him. And even about how much she hated working at Har-rell's.
"If I can find something better, I might quit," she lied. It hurt. She'd never lied to Bob about anything. But it was the only way. And then in a few short minutes, he was gone-just as suddenly as he had come.
The phone rang again, but she wasn't so lucky this time. It was Pat Desmond.
"Hi, Anne. How are you?"
"Fine. What can I do for you?" she replied icily.
"Listen, sweetie. I'm sorry about the other night. I was a little drunk myself.. . And I don't know the whole story. Alice asked me to put the tape recorder under the bed. I even let Edmund in on it. She said it was some kind of practical joke. I didn't find out myself until today. One of the girls told me that's how she gets some girls to work for her ... I'm sorry ... I really am..."
Anne could hear her voice cracking. She sounded sincere, but she wasn't about to trust her twice.
"Okay, so it wasn't your fault. Is that why you called-to apologize?"
There was a pause at the other end. "Well, that's the main reason ... But there was something else. I'd rather not talk about it on the phone. Could I meet you someplace for lunch ? "
It was tempting to just slam the receiver down, but maybe the trip downtown would be a nice change.
"Okay, why not. How about that little place by the park. The one with the pastry shop."
"That's fine. I'll be there at 12:30."
It was unquestionably quite a puzzle. First the girl is a friend. Then she sets you up for blackmail. And then all of a sudden she's a friend again.
Anne poured herself a hefty slug of scotch in a glass full of ice. She didn't really like scotch. But it had been in the cabinet over the stove for most of a year. Only lately it was disappearing.
I've got to cut out this stuff. Bob's got a slut at home already; he doesn't need a drunk, too.
She tried not to worry about what Pat wanted to say, but it seemed the smallest worry available-and probably the least painful. There wasn't anything she could do about the danger Bob was in, and there didn't seem to be any way out of her own battle. She knew she should be happy that Bob had been able to call-that for a few minutes, even, they could be a little closer. But somehow hearing him only made things worse. She knew she couldn't go through with another night like the last two. It was like he was nearer now, and that made doing the things demanded of her even more unthinkable. But that tape was never out of her mind-and there was no way out as long as Alice Horne had that tape.
* * *
Surprisingly, Pat looked much prettier than Anne remembered her, even in the harsh glare of the sunlight that splashed onto them from the plate glass window. It was hardly like meeting an old friend. And yet, Anne felt better about it than she had anticipated. At least it was someone she could talk to. Someone who wouldn't shriek and run from the whole sordid story.
Pat was wearing her thick, black hair down again. Just as Anne remembered her when she stepped out into the light that night for Edmund. Only this time she was wearing a blue denim mini-skirt and orange jersey top.
"If you don't mind, I think I will beat around the bush, Anne. This isn't easy for me, and it'll take a little getting used to."
Anne was worried and curious before about this sudden meeting, but now she was afraid. Pat didn't seem the type that needed to summon up courage to speak.
. . why don't you climb on? WHY DON'T YOU CLIMB ON?"
Those words from the tape reverberated in her head. She was trying not to hate this woman. Not to strike out at her for all that had happened.
Their lunches were already ordered when Anne remembered that this was the same table she had shared with Mrs. Horne-only a short time ago. It seemed like a hundred years.
Neither really wanted to talk about the weather, and the latest Presidential press conference. But Pat was staying well back in the safety of the conversation.
"Pat, you didn't come here to talk about this. Now you've had enough time to make up your mind. Do you have something to say to me or not?"
Pat looked a little stunned. "Uh ... I guess you deserve a direct answer. I'm sorry . That seems to be all I can do today-apologize to you."
She waited while the bus boy removed the dishes.
"Christ, I suppose the best place to start is at the beginning ... Well, maybe not quite that far back-but three years ago, anyway. Things got pretty rough for me. No work for five months. And a no-good old man that ... well, that's another story. What I'm getting at is this. I'm not in this stinking business because I was blackmailed into it like you were. I made the choice myself ... Sure, I'd like to blame somebody else, but still, I didn't have to turn a trick to make a buck. There must have been something else."
It didn't make things any better to hear Pat talk like this-like one whore to another.
"Anyway, I got busted. In Cleveland. But since I was up for the first time, the judge gave me a suspended sentence. You got any idea how it feels to stand up in court and be sentenced for prostitution?"
"I'm sorry, Pat ... I had no idea."
"That's not necessary. like I said, there must have been another way. Only this was the easiest ... And then I came here. Thought maybe I could get away from my past, and maybe things would be different. But it didn't work. I got a job all right. Things were going great-and then some busy-body with the bonding company decided to check me out. Well, they found out about my record, and bingo-no job, no money. I'm right back where it all started. Then I found out about Alice's operation. I went to see her, she tried me out, and here I am. You see, it might seem like crawling in the sewer to you. But to me, it's at least one step above where I was."
"But how can you say that? What's the difference?" asked Anne. "At least the girl walking the street is honest about it."
"You're partly right. Only I suspect there's something you don't know ... It's like this-you haven't got to turn a trick with every guy you go out with. I mean, it's up to you. They pay for the date, and that's all."
"What!? " cried Anne. "That isn't the way I heard it!"
"Okay. Okay. Take it easy. Sure the guys kind of expect it. But Alice Horne is no dumb broad. She's not about to get busted by some undercover vice squad John. She never says a word to any of her customers about laying any of her chicks. That sort of thing gets around by word of mouth. But not from her."
Anne wasn't able to say anything. Not that this really changed the picture very much. Even if she didn't have to be dragged down quite as deeply again, Alice Horne still had the tape. And nothing she did in the future could change what had happened in the past. Bob would never believe it if she told him it only happened once, and that the rest of the dates were just nice, clean sightseeing jaunts.
"But don't get the idea that you can wiggle out of everything just because nobody promised these jerks a good screwing..."
"Please, Pat," Anne interrupted. "Do you have to use that kind of language?"
"Sorry. Hazard of the trade, I guess. What I was getting at is that you can't just tell your date to get lost. If he goes back to Alice and complains, she won't be too happy. And she can use that tape anytime she wants to."
"Do you think she really would?" she asked.
"I mean, what if she played it for someone and he went to the police."
"Forget it. I know what you're thinking, and it won't work. She's not about to let anyone get his hands on that tape. And what proof have you got that she blackmailed you at all. What if she tells the police that you're out of your mind? That you're just sore because she found out about you going to bed with one of her clients, and she fired you. Don't forget, she's the widow of one of this town's pillars of respectability. She'd make you look like some kind of nut. And don't think any of the guys you go out with would co-operate. Those guys are all running around on their old ladies anyway. So what would all that get you. Your husband would know the whole story, and he'd hear that tape. And you'd get dragged through the slime by the newspapers. It'd be the biggest story in twenty years. But you would be the one to suffer, not Alice Horne. She'd come out clean as a load of laundry."
"I guess you're right ... but it's still nice to dream about anyway ... Hey, did you bring me down here to tell me there's nothing I can do about this mess? If you did, you won't get any thanks from me."
Pat almost seemed to loosen up for the first time. To become warm and sensitive.
"No, Anne. That wasn't my reason. I wanted to tell you that I feel responsible for this and I want to help. Short of going back to jail-I wouldn't do that for my own mother-I'll do anything you ask to hang that bitch-excuse me, that woman."
Anne was beginning to change her mind about Pat. She knew she mustn't let Alice Horne turn her sour on the whole world. "Thanks, Pat. You don't know how much that means for me. I've been facing this all alone for days, and it's killing me. There wasn't anyone to turn to. Bob called this morning through this radio network deal they have set up. But I couldn't tell him anything. He'd either never forgive me ... or go straight to the authorities. And my life would be over either way."
"Well, don't give up yet. My twisted little brain is struggling to come up with a plan."
"A plan! What is it? Do you know some way we can steal that tape ... Well, come on. Tell me!" Anne had nearly forgotten how it felt to be excited.
"No, that's out. I'm sure it's locked in that safe in the floor. Right under her desk. I really don't have it worked out enough to talk about yet ... How long before Bob comes back from Vietnam?"
"If his tour is the regular length, quite a while. Maybe six more months or so. Why?" asked Anne, puzzled.
"No particular reason. It's just that she'd have a pretty hard time getting the tape to him while he's over there. I mean, you haven't told her much about him, have you ? "
Anne flashed back to that lunch date. "No, not really. Actually, I hadn't thought of that. She just told me she would send it to him if I didn't co-operate."
"Good," said Pat. "The less she knows, the better. I'm sure she could get his military address, but that would take a while. And she's banking on you to play it her way."
"I still don't get it. If Bob were here, I might stand a better chance of explaining this to him. I just can't tell him while he's in Vietnam."
"What makes you think he'd understand if he were right here?" asked Pat. "He'd have to be one hell of an understanding husband to listen to that tape and pat you on the head and say forget it."
"I wish you hadn't said that," Anne said dejectedly. "I was beginning to have a little spark of hope."
"Well, keep that spark fanned. I've got some friends-the sort of guys you probably don't even know exist. Maybe if we put our heads together, we can pull it off. Anyway, that's what I wanted to say. And you'd better believe it's hard for me. I gave up on people a long time ago. But if there's anyway out, I'll help you find it."
CHAPTER 7
There must have been over a hundred servicemen on the stretched jet, but the service was nearly as good as any commercial carrier would have offered. This was a military charter, hired by the Army, and operated by a civilian company-complete with two stewardesses. Both were California girls-but they need not have told anyone. Their rich, brown tans and surfer-length hair, bleached nearly platinum by the sun gave them away.
Bob Hartley was by the window, seven rows from the back. He couldn't help feeling a little guilty about coming home in such luxury. Most of the guys on the plane had pulled their hitches in the combat zone-some had even been back for more. But Bob knew he was one of the lucky ones-he was coming back early. They decided they would have more need for an officer with an engineering degree than an enlisted man with a couple of years of college. It had all happened so fast-he had been scheduled for a patrol, when without any explanation, he was dropped from the roster. Then came the orders to report to headquarters. And it was then that he learned he had been accepted for officer training-on the basis of his college records and his test scores on the OCS exams. But first, they had told him, he would go back to college-with financial assistance from the Department of the Army. Of course, he would have to re-enlist, and agree to serve a couple of years after he finished his education. But that was an easy decision for Bob. The Army had been pretty good to him-with the possible exception of sending him to Vietnam. It had not been nearly as rough as he had feared back when the draft notice arrived. Then, going into the Army seemed like the end of the world. His hopes for earning enough to finish school were smashed with one easy blow. But the hardest of all had been leaving Anne behind, after only three months of marriage. He could still remember her standing there on the passenger ramp at the bus station as he left for basic training. She was trying to be brave, but her strong front was slowly crumbling. He could see the tears about to burst from her eyes as the bus pulled away, leaving her there in the cold, wet morning-bundled under a scarf and a raincoat to keep out the chill.
Looking so frightened and helpless-like an abandoned puppy. Bob had carried that memory through the arduous weeks of boot camp, and now, as he was returning home, it returned to his mind.
The preparations for the trip home were so hastily carried out that Bob had not been able to find time to write Anne and let her know. But his flight was destined for Travis Air Force in California, and he was looking forward to calling her from there.
Bob looked around at the others on the flight. It would have been difficult to find a happier bunch on any plane around. These guys were the lucky ones-they were coming home in one piece. There weren't any war wounded on this flight. Bob was rather glad there weren't. He just couldn't help feeling that he was cheating his buddies back in Vietnam by leaving ahead of schedule, but it was the Army's decision, he knew that.
"Could I get you anything, soldier?" Bob snapped back to the present. One of the stewardesses was leaning over him. It felt pleasant, in a familiar sort of way, to be so close to an American girl-any American girl.
"No, I'm fine. Thank you." He wished she would stay and talk. It would certainly help pass the time on the long flight. But he knew she must divide her time among all the guys on the plane.
Bob peered out the tiny porthole of a window. But there wasn't anything to see. Only endless white cloud cover, broken once in a great while to show a patch of blue ocean miles below.
One of the men told him it would be 0300 hours when they touched down at Travis Field, if the winds and weather held out. That would be awfully late to call Anne, but he figured it would be best. She would certainly be mad when she found out he had been back in the States even a minute without calling.
He recalled how, before they were married, he had driven through the beach resort town where Anne and her parents were vacationing. Then, too, it had been in the wee hours of the night. But Anne had nearly blown a fuse when she found out later. "You should have called no matter what time it was!" she had fumed. No, Bob didn't want to bring down on his head that temper again.
That was the only time he could remember Anne really losing her temper. But she was mad enough that time to etch the memory indelibly in his brain. She was usually pretty even tempered, maybe a little pout here and there, but nothing to complain about.
They had dated for nearly a year before making plans for marriage, and never had a fight. They figured it must have been some sort of record, for all of their friends were continually breaking up and making up, and all of the sort of fights that usually go hand in hand with college romances. But Anne and Bob had seemed to be above that sort of thing. At least they liked to think so.
But they became even closer when they were forced to stand together against her parents, when they did everything in their power to stop the marriage, short of physically blocking the aisle.
Actually, there hadn't been an aisle. Only the hallway to the Justice of the Peace's office. Anne hadn't really wanted a church wedding. And although her father broke down and finally offered to pay for a imagine service in their own church, Anne had stubbornly refused. After all the things they had said about Bob, she wasn't about to go along with any big church wedding, just to salve their consciences.
It was only a month after their marriage that Bob had quit school. Or "withdrawn temporarily" as the form from the records office stated. It was hoped that it would only be temporary, but Bob suspected from the beginning that the draft board would soon be on his heels. And, sure enough, it did not take them long. Three months at a drafting table in his brother's engineering office, and the notice arrived.
James Hartley Company was well respected in civil engineering circles, and it was expected that Bob would join the firm as a junior partner after graduation. Jim hadn't been too pleased with Bob's decision to leave schoolespecially so soon after taking on the responsibility-or burden as he called it-of a wife. James had never married, and was as adept at avoiding the altar as any bachelor around. But he had been the first to remind Bob of the awesome responsibility of taking a wife-of the medical bills, and the food bills, and the clothes. But Bob and Anne had made up their minds, and nothing could change them.
He didn't regret it for a second. Even when the money wasn't there, and they were forced to ration their last jar of peanut butter until the next paycheck. Jim wasn't particularly generous with the pay scale he offered, but Bob had not been in any position to argue. He remembered how he had said over and over again that "no wife of his was going to look for a job." But he had to admit that he had been pretty glad when Anne wrote that she had found a very nice job at Harrell's department store. She seemed pretty happy with it-at least her letters sounded that way. And it had made things a little easier in Vietnam to know that Anne did not have to worry about money.
That last phone call had sounded pretty strange. It was the first time Anne had made any mention of being unhappy at Harrell's. And why all so suddenly?
But that was nothing to worry about now. In just a few hours, he would be landing in California. And not much later, he would be knocking on the door to their apartment. There was still a lot of detail to be worked out about returning to college. The Army doesn't do anything without stacks of forms to be filled out in quadruplicate. But at least there was that month leave before anything else. And Bob would have swam home for that.
CHAPTER 8
Anne looked around the lodge for Pat. It would have been a lot better if she were there, but she could see the other three girls from the dating service, and Pat was not one of them.
This was the strangest assignment Mrs. Horne had handed her yet. Anne hoped she remember her promise-when Anne had protested another assignment, and refused to go, Mrs. Horne had assured her that this was not anything like the other two.
But Anne was anything but certain about Alice Home's pledge, for the first thing she noticed after being let in were the four men sitting at the bar. She felt a cold chill run over her body as she remembered the other two dates. But there was some solace in the fact that there were three other girls here.
Mrs. Home's promise had been that these men were not paying for sex. That she would find out what was expected of her, but that she wouldn't be going to bed with any of the men. It was still quite a puzzle, but after the first two assignments, it didn't look terribly frightening.
The lodge was one of those "rent-it-by-the-night" deals. It had once been a small, private club, and was still lavishly appointed, although the furnishings were showing their age here and there. Anne could see that it had once been fabulously plush, and that the original owners must have had plenty of money. They had spared no expense in setting the place up.
It was basically one large room, with what appeared to be a library connected at one side, and an enormous dining room and kitchen on the other. That side was easy to make out, as the floor-to-ceiling doors to the dining room were opened wide. The main room was easily forty feet square, furnished like most men's clubs anywhere, with rich, comfortable-looking leather chairs sprawled in no particular pattern. The carpet was showing its age more than anything else, but you could still feel its expensive deep pile beneath your feet.
One of the girls from the service let her in. At least she assumed she was from the service. Alice had promised that there would be three other girls there.
She was a pretty girl. Very trim with fantastically long blonde hair parted in the middle of her head. Anne couldn't help thinking she looked maybe a bit hippie. Of course, the jeans and the slightly-oversized man's shirt helped a lot. Even under the fullness of the cotton shirt, Anne could see that the girl was well-built, with the arching firmness that only a teen-ager could have. And two jutting points at the tips of her breasts made it pretty obvious that she wasn't wearing a bra. The jeans were so tight that Anne suspected she wasn't wearing any underwear at all. Anne guessed she was about seventeen, maybe even sixteen.
"Hi. Come in." The girl greeted her cheerfully enough. "You must be Anne. Everyone else is here. I'm Carol. Come on and I'll introduce you to the rest of the gang."
Anne could see the other girls looking at her quizzically as Carol led her over to where they had all gathered. Absurdly enough, it somehow reminded her of her junior prom-with all the boys on one side, and the girls on the other. From what she had come to expect from Mrs. Home's little parties, this was pretty ludicrous.
The other two stood up as Carol and Anne approached.
"Anne, this is Betty and Gayle." They both smiled as they all exchanged the normal pleasantries. It was all getting more and more ridiculous. like a Sunday afternoon debutante tea. All that was missing was a tea service and a rose garden.
"Uh ... are all of you working for Alice
Horne?" Anne asked cautiously. This didn't seem like the right party.
That question seemed to break everyone up. Anne felt like a textbook-case idiot. "Was ... was that not the right thing to ask?"
Betty squeezed her arm affectionately. "No, no," she laughed. "It's just that you are obviously thinking just what we all thought as we came in. We were just talking about this set-up when you walked in ... that's all. We're with the service, all right. And you're right-this isn't quite what we all expected."
"We're all as confused as you are," Gayle added, in a near-whisper. "Those are the men that paid for us all to come. And when Betty and I arrived-we were the first-they just took our coats and told us to make ourselves at home, and just have a good time. That was nearly an hour ago, and they've been at the bar talking about some fight on TV the whole time."
"It's pretty wild, huh?" asked Carol.
Anne felt a little better. At least, if this was the wrong party, she wasn't alone in her error. "Well, let's not knock a good thing. How about a drink?" Anne remembered the night with Dan Morson, and she figured she'd better start fortifying herself early this time.
"You can be the brave one, if you want," said Carol. "We've all been just sitting here behaving ourselves, like we were told."
Anne was about to build up enough courage to walk over to the bar and ask for a drink, when suddenly the conversation there stopped, and the four men turned toward the girls. For a long few seconds, no one said anything. Then one of the men, the youngest one, from his appearance, stood up.
"Well, I see everyone's here. Let's see-Carol, Betty, Gayle, and Anne, if my memory serves me. Right?"
The girls nodded in unison.
"Well, just sit tight. Come have a drink if you like ... and we'll get the show on the road in just a few minutes."
Get the show on the road? Anne thought. What did he mean by that?
She didn't have to wonder very long, for just a few minutes later, one of the men left the bar and began to take some equipment from their cases in the corner. Ann could see a slide projector, a couple of boxes of what appeared to be slides, and a tape recorder.
He seemed to be having difficulty putting it all together, and called for help from another man at the bar.
Anne was talking all this time with Carol, or rather, listening to Carol, and trying to see what was going on at the same time.
But the more the two men worked, the more confusing it all became. They placed the slide projector and tape recorder side by side on a table against the wall. Anne looked around for a screen, but there didn't seem to be one.
One of the men switched the projector on, apparently to test it, and the opposite wall glared with the brilliant light. Everyone stopped talking and stared at the large rectangle of light, waiting for something to appear. But after a few seconds, he switched it off.
Just then there was another knock at the door.
More people! How many are coming!?
Carol started for the door.
"I'll get it!" shouted the youngest one, jumping to his feet.
He opened the door quickly, and only wide enough to step through. But Anne caught a quick flash of at least three people outside. And they looked like girls.
"Carol, did Mrs. Horne say anything about sending more than the four of us?" Anne asked.
"No, she didn't" Carol replied. "I'm sure she said just four-Betty, Gayle, you and me. It doesn't make sense. And I'm going to find out what's going on!"
"Me too!" added Anne.
Marching over to the bar, they demanded, "What's going on here? We've been here much too long already, and now there are some more girls outside. Now we don't care what you've got up your sleeve, but we don't intend to sit here making conversation any longer. Just what is going on?"
One of the men laughed. He was fairly attractive, obviously a desk worker. Anne could see that he wasn't used to hard work.
"Whoa, hold on there, little tiger," he began. "You're right. You are entitled to know. And I don't see any harm in telling you ... To make it short, you girls are the entertainment. Ray's outside talking to our dates. It's just that simple ... no big mystery."
"Entertainment!" shrieked Betty and Carol.
"What do you mean-entertainment?" asked Betty. "We work for a dating service. Not a talent agency."
"Yeah, that's right," added Carol. "I came along for a good time. Nobody said anything about entertaining. And just what did you have in mind, anyway?"
The man doing all the talking hesitated at that.
"Well ... I don't think you'll have any objections. At least, Mrs. Horne said you wouldn't."
Anne could feel the implied threat in his voice. She knew that whatever they had planned, they were expected to go along, or answer to Alice Horne.
"How would you girls like an extra two hundred dollars? That's what one of you will leave here with tonight."
Two hundred dollars! Anne could hardly believe it. That was nearly enough to pay for the surprise she had been planning for Bob when he got home. With that money, plus what she had saved, the two of them could spend a couple of weeks in Hawaii. Anne had dreamed of that for months-ever since Bob left for Vietnam-as a surprise for his homecoming. It didn't matter what the men wanted-for that money Anne was willing to do almost anything.
And why not, she asked herself. After the nights she had been through already, another didn't really seem so bad.
"Ray and Stan have put together a little light show, girls," he continued. "Complete with music-San Francisco rock, even. And you girls are going to be the screen ... if you know what I mean." He laughed again, this time more lewdly.
"The screen? I don't get it," said Betty, puzzled.
Carol was standing squarely before the man, her hands on her hips, her dainty five-feet-four-inches looking ridiculous in front of the big man's hulking form.
"Well, I get it," she said angrily. "What the nice gentleman is trying to say is that we're going to be over there in front of the projector while they cuddle up here with their dates. And correct me if I'm wrong, pal, but I don't think we'll be wearing a whole lot. Right?"
She stood staring at him, waiting for an answer.
"Actually, I had planned to let Ray tell you the details, but since you are in such a hurry-yes, you're right. And the girl who gives us all the best show takes home the money."
Carol shrugged her shoulders and turned away.
"If that's all, why didn't you just say so? You afraid of us or something?"
The big man didn't answer, just turned back to his friends and poured himself another drink.
Ray came in-alone-and told the girls to wait in the library. After a hasty conference with the others, he came into the room.
"Bill tells me that you already know what to do. He said you didn't seem too happy about it, so I'm going to make it a little more pleasant. The money's now up to four hundred dollars. And if you're shy about stripping alone, you can do it in pairs or something. I'll let you work out the details. I'll come for you when we're ready."
For another half-hour, the girls waited in the dimly-lit library, interrupted only once when Ray brought fresh drinks all around. They didn't talk much, only to decide that Carol and Anne, and Betty and Gayle would go on together.
"You know ... it's kind of exciting. In an off-beat sort of way," volunteered Betty.
"Yeah, you're right," Carol replied. "Anyway, it beats being pawed by some drunk aluminum door salesman from Omaha."
Anne and Gayle both nodded agreement.
"Have any of you ever done this before?" asked Anne. "I mean ... taken your clothes off this way. like a stripper?"
The girls looked at each other. "I guess this is a first for all of us," said Gayle.
"One thing I can't understand," added Anne. "Why would anyone pay this much for us to come and take off our clothes when they already have dates?"
That seemed to strike a responsive note in Carol.
"That's been bothering me, too. It does seem a little strange. But I guess we'll find out soon enough..." Carol pointed to the door as it opened wide. Ray was standing there, his right arm around a girl. Anne couldn't see anything but their outlines against the glare of the projector, already flashing strange slides onto the wall. The music came on, after a few seconds of loud pops and crackles from the recorder. Anne recognized it immediately as a big San Francisco rock group. And it sounded like a live recording.
Blinking a few times to adjust to the harsh lighting, Anne looked around the large room. The other three men were sitting with their dates, two couples on a large red leather sofa, and the third sharing a deep Naugahyde chair. Anne didn't recognize any of the girls. They all looked young-maybe even high school girls
-but they were all very good-looking. At least what she could see of them.
Anne felt incredibly embarrassed-like some kind of side show freak. And suddenly she felt the urge to run-that same feeling she had felt when John Montgomery put his hands on her that night in his room. She wanted to race for the door, and down the country road to the highway. To get as far away from all this as she could-but she knew she wouldn't. She knew that whatever was to come would come-as long as those tapes were in Alice Home's safe.
I can't take off my clothes in front of these people!
Anne wasn't sure whether it was knowing there were other girls sitting there watching; but she suddenly knew that she just couldn't do it. To stand in front of these men and these girls and take off all her clothes was just impossible.
"Carol," she whispered, "I can't go through with it. I just can't!"
Carol squeezed her arm reassuringly. "Don't worry, Anne. I think I smell help on the way."
Anne was sure she must have misunderstood. "What! Did you say smell?"
"Oh wow," laughed Carol, "You're straighter than I thought. Just take it easy. Everything's going to be fine. Really fine."
Anne wracked her mind trying to decipher Carol's meaningless words; and suddenly it hit her! That sickeningly sweet cloud hanging over the room! It's marijuana!
Anne had been in the same room with it before, at a party while she was still in college. She remembered how a few of the guests had gathered to themselves in one corner of the darkened room, and how she had tried to steal a glance at them from time to time. She remembered how they began to laugh more and more-how the slightest joke set them off on a fury of giggling and laughing. And how they were the first couples to slip unobtrusively away to the bedrooms. That was the part Anne remembered best.
"Why don't you girls join the party for a while," invited Ray. "We'll have the entertainment later."
The pungent odor grew stronger as Anne walked out into the center of the room. She could see three red-hot pinpoints glowing around the room as the hand-rolled marijuana cigarettes were passed from hand to hand. The brownish-gray cloud hanging over grew thicker and thicker.
Anne didn't really have any strong feelings about grass one way or the other. She knew a lot of her friends smoked it, and she had always figured she might try it one day.
And this looked like as good a time as any.
One of the girls climbed out of her chair and came over.
"Care for a little?" she asked, holding out a thick joint in her left hand.
Carol didn't need a second invitation. "You bet," she replied. "I though you'd never ask."
She held the stubby cigarette between two fingers and took a long, hard draw-holding the smoke as long as she could. It seemed that Anne could actually see her relax from just the one puff. Carol handed it to Anne, almost absent-mindedly, without asking her first.
"I've never smoked this stuff before," Anne admitted. But Carol only shrugged.
"What difference does that make? Take some, you'll feel a lot better."
Anne held it a moment, eyeing it nervously.
"Don't let it all burn away!" exclaimed Carol.
Anne took it to her lips and inhaled slowly and deeply, filling her lungs with the sweet smoke. It burned going down and she coughed a little.
Nothing happened, and again she took a puff. The joint worked its way back around a third time, and Anne took an even deeper drag on the grass.
Then the tingling began-first just the tips of her fingers. And then her toes. It made her want to giggle, but she held it back. And finally-slowly-the relaxing tingle eased its way through her body, releasing all her muscles along its path. She felt very warm and good-like cuddled in front of a roaring fire. And the music began to sound better and better; swelling in a steady crescendo.
* * *
The stewardess from California brought Bob his second vodka and tonic. Somehow it tasted better than it ever did in Vietnam. Maybe it was knowing that he was only two hours from touchdown; and then only a few hours by bus back home.
It seemed that the clock was slowing down more and more the closer he got. Bob adjusted for the time zones-trying to figure out what time it would be at that very moment at home.
Ten forty five Pacific Standard Time.
Bob finished the drink and placed the plastic container on the shelf in front of him. He tried to imagine Anne at that very instant-maybe preparing for bed, her hair in curlers, her young curves completely hidden under that old robe she always insists on wearing. Maybe having a last-minute snack before the late movie, curled up on the sofa.
He glanced again at his watch. Still the same time. Not even ten forty-six!
He was sure the plane was bucking a two-hundred knot headwind. It seemed to be standing still in the sky over the Pacific.
* * *
The lights around the smoke-filled room were out, and the only illumination came from the slide projector against the opposite wall. Ray had adjusted it to automatic, and one by one the weirdly colored slides popped into the projector, flashing a myriad of reds, blues, yellows, and greens and every shade between onto the figures of two young girls undressing to the rhythm of hard San Francisco acid-rock blaring through the twin stereo speakers. Every eye was strained for a better look as Carol and Anne together began to slowly take off their clothes.
There could be no mistake about it-they were both completely "stoned." Anne could see nothing but the harsh circle of light from the projector lens-constantly changing color and intensity. The colored images-ever changing-splashed across the two girls and onto the wall behind them. It was hard to make them out in the crazy maze of colors, blobs of every hue that fused and ran together to form even weirder shapes and colors across their still-clothed bodies.
Anne could hear all the voices in the roombut they were garbled together in her drugged mind as one; and they seemed to be a million miles away. She was staring with glazed eyes directly into the lens of the projector. It was as if the opening were a tunnel-a wonderful, exciting colorful tunnel and she was sinking deeper and deeper into it. And the deeper she sank, the brighter the colors became and the louder the music grew. With each second the rock band seemed more real, as if they, too were right beside her in the room.
She couldn't remember how many joints had been passed around, only that she had taken as many puffs from each one as she could. And the consciousness-expanding drug was certainly taking effect.
Is was as if her body were alive-not alive in the usual sense, but alive on its own, with its own mind and its own senses, completely apart from her own. She could sink comfortably into her own mind, and allow her body to do anything it wished, without any conscious effort on her part.
"C'mon, sweetie, take it off!" yelled a voice from the darkness. "Yeah, let's see some flesh!"
Anne and Carol danced in time to the ever-building music, the drug strengthening its hold on them.
"Oh, Christ I'm wiped out!" exclaimed Carol to no one in particular. "There must have been some hash in that last joint."
Anne didn't know what she meant, but she did know that she was slowly losing all control of her mind and body.
The four men were all on the edges of their seats, eyes wide with anticipation as they watched the two young girls writhing suggestively with the music.
Carol began to unbutton the buttons on her shirt, and the tension tightened in the hot room. One by one she released them, and her teen-age firmness began to come into plain view of the four men and four girls sitting around her.
As she released the last one, she pulled the fabric slightly apart. Not completely open, but enough to expose the creamy whiteness of her ripe, young breasts as she swayed from side to side. She was deep-brown tanned, and the whiteness of the twin firm mounds was accented even more as they stood out on their own from the tanned flesh around them.
They were large, but not overly-large. And with characteristic teen-age firmness, they jutted out proudly, her nipples hard and rigid and pulsing with excitement as she felt every eye glued on her eager young body.
Anne began to lose herself in the lewd fever of seeing Carol undressing in front of all these strangers, and as Carol pulled her blouse down over one shoulder, Anne perversely lowered the zipper of her skirt, letting it fall provocatively to the floor.
Stepping out of it, she tossed it aside, flinging her arms high in the air as the deafening music swelled, as if on cue. She wasn't wearing a slip, and she stood before them now wearing below only her panty hose and panties, her long, supple legs curving smoothly from the whiteness of her panties, barely covering the soft mounds of her buttocks that were half-revealed where they joined her thighs.
As she danced, she leaned back, her hair flying loosely behind her, her long, firm legs spread wide. You could feel the atmosphere tighten as every man locked his eyes on the dampness between her opened thighs, a slightly bulging protrusion fringed with the traces of light blonde pubic hair that curled downward out of the panties.
She stood up straight, her hands in the small of her back, then began to slide them slowly down over her firm buttocks that seemed about to burst through the thin cloth. Down over the rounding buttocks she slipped her hands, catching the elastic band of her panty hose and rolling the transparent fabric down over the mounds of her buttocks, leaving only the thin panties. In a moment, they were at her knees-a few seconds more and they had joined the skirt, leaving her blouse and bra but only the panties below her trim waist-panties so thin that those in the room could see the sparse, soft mound of pubic hair at the junction of her thighs-a fleecy light triangle that showed everyone her blonde hair was real. Her hips ground in time with the music, thrusting first forward, then back in a slow, sensuous circle, taunting ... teasing ... inviting someone-anyone-to step forward and pull down the flimsy material over the warmth of her aroused flesh. The drug and the music had her completely in their power-and now she was helpless to stop.
She wanted to turn away-to grab up her clothes and escape before it was too late. But the time for that had long ago slipped by. Nothing could stop her from what was to come.
Her skin tingled as if a thousand needles were pricking her, and her body trembled at the realization of what she was doing. She singled one man from the group-the one called Bill, and motioned suggestively for him to come to her. She could see that he was already aroused, for when he stood up, his erect cock bulged out in front of him; and he squirmed to maneuver it back into place.
For long seconds she stared at him, directly into his eyes, her lips ovaled and moistened by her tongue that swirled slowly around, her pelvis still sensuously grinding in a tight circle.
"Take them off," she ordered, eyes widening all over the room.
She thrust her hips out directly at him and stretched the elastic band of her panties so there would be no doubt what she wanted.
Bill wasted not a second. He dropped to his knees at Anne's feet, and grabbed the garment fiercely with both hands, ripping it down to her knees. A chorus of gasps went up as suddenly she was completely naked from the waist down, with not a thread between her luscious, eager body and the eyes of the four men watching intently.
She hadn't been prepared for his rough handling, and she stepped back away from him as her panties dropped to the floor, ripped nearly in half.
"No ... no! I can't!" The drug had lost its grip, but only for a second. As she stepped back, an arm shot out from the darkness and pressed another thick joint to her lips. Without hesitation, she took a deep drag. There was safety and shelter in the "grass," and she wanted as much of it as she could get. Another puff, and all was well again.
Anne twirled round and round with the music, watching the kaleidoscope of colors flash by.
Numbly, without even knowing, she began to unbutton her blouse, clumsily manipulating the tiny buttons. She pulled it off and tossed it with the rest, leaving only her white bra. The men were all on their feet, unaware for the moment that their dates even existed, for every gaze was fixed on Anne's inviting young body, and every mouth was dry as they watched her perverse show in eager anticipation.
The excitement was overwhelming. Anne felt as if a million eyes were watching her-as if she were the only woman on earth, and every man was staring at her, mad with desire for her body. The drug had her wrapped in its spell, and her body grew hotter and hotter with maddening passion-a passion that cried out for fulfillment.
She bent over forward, her soft, rounded buttocks thrusting nakedly up behind her, and released the hooks on her bra.
like a broken spring the tension in the smoky room snapped as the one remaining garment fluttered to the floor, leaving her completely nude in front of everyone.
The blaring music was pounding like an air hammer, drowning out everything in its path. And every driving beat was like adrenalin to Anne-pushing her harder and harder, climbing higher and higher, like an orchestra's crescendo.
With every ounce of her soul, Anne danced faster and faster with the music, her arms high above her flailing the air, her pelvis twisting madly, her smooth, tapering legs grinding at the floor. Her eyes were closed, her nostrils flared, and her hair tossed behind her like a wild mane.
Anne could feel nothing but the music and the heat of the projector beaming across the room, her body a quivering mass of raw nerves from the drug.
For a split second, she opened her eyes, and saw that Carol, too, was naked, her body writhing and twisting even faster, like a wild savage.
For a few long, almost endless minutes, everything faded away for Anne, as the music roared in her ears like a new drug, lifting her higher and higher-away from the lodge, away from everything.
When she opened her eyes, she found that she and Carol were not alone in the flickering light of the slide projector. One of the girls, a busty brunette with close-cropped hair had joined them.
She seemed even more "stoned" than either Anne or Carol. And she wasted no time getting out of her clothes. With two quick, deft movements she climbed out of her stylish jumpsuit and shoes, capturing the spotlight for herself as she danced wildly in only her panties and bra, her enormous breasts bulging over the delicate white fabric, the soft, pink crescents of her nipples just barely peeking over the top. She leaned far forward when her hands went in back to release the straining garment.
As the bra dropped to the floor, her large breasts fell free, dangling beneath her, swaying from side to side as she danced, churning with the polished ease of a professional dancer.
Soon they were joined by Betty and Gayle, looking out of place with their clothes still on. But they were quickly caught up in the action, and Anne slipped out of the light as they began to remove their skirts."
Her mind was running wildly, like a movie out of control. A dozen different memories were all at once flashing in front of her eyes-people, places, dreams-all fusing together in one dizzying, whirring kaleidoscope of twisted images.
She thought of Bob-thousands of miles away, maybe caught in a burst of enemy gunfire in some nameless, God-forsaken jungle. And suddenly she couldn't hold back the tears. In a piteous cascade they came-running down her cheeks, already damp with perspiration, stinging her reddened eyes. Anne felt lower and cheaper than ever before, filthy and tarnished and not fit for any decent man again.
Alone in the darkness she stood, unwatched and unnoticed by the others, quivering with shame and self-pity, her naked body trembling from head to foot. But something kept her from running away-it would have been easy to slip out without being seen. No one would even miss her. But some almost unfelt force, some magnetism, kept her drawn to this room-nothing she could pin down, but somehow it seemed terribly exciting. And behind the tears, a part of her she did not recognize was growing inside-a part of her she would have liked to hide away, but couldn't. The drugs, the soul-pounding beat of the blaring music, the girls dancing like harem girls before their master-their young, ripe luscious bodies writhing an invitation that couldn't be misunderstood...
Anne opened her reddened eyes and looked toward the circle of colored light where Betty and Gayle were supposed to be.
Oh, my God! What are they doing?
Anne clasped her hand to her lips to keep from making a sound, but it was all she could do to keep from screaming for them to stop, for something was happening that she wouldn't have believed were she not watching with her own eyes. She blinked a few times, shaking her head, to be sure that it wasn't an hallucination brought on by the drug.
Gayle was bent over at the waist, completely stripped, her taut buttocks thrust out behind her, and her large, resilient breasts hanging low beneath her body, bouncing from side to side and against each other as she swayed. Her mouth was open, her teeth nearly bared, and a long, low almost animal sound was coming from her throat, for behind her, Anne could make out, even in the flashing colors, the form of another girl...
Betty was on her knees, still wearing her white panties, so starkly contrasted against her well-tanned body, her face just inches away from the other girl's quivering buttocks. Everyone was glued to the incredibly arousing spectacle. Even the girl who had joined Anne and Carol earlier was sitting cross-legged against the wall, mindless of her own nakedness, just watching with wide-eyed amazement the two girls in front of the lights.
Dazed, Anne walked over to where Carol was sitting on the carpeted floor and sprawled beside her, her eyes not leaving the two girls for even an instant.
Someone adjusted the slide projector, and the bewildering barrage of colors became one steady hue, first a deep blue, then a near-black purple as the slides changed, and finally, a scorching red, so bright that it seemed to warm the room, turning the two girls into a pair of crimson surrealistic figures.
A collective gasp went up from the ten pairs of eyes watching in astonishment as Betty slipped her tongue from between her lips and brushed it lightly against the shivering, wet folds of soft flesh surrounding the opening to Gayle's open pussy, sending a sharp chill of excitement through her like an electric jolt.
Slowly, up and down the quaking, moist lips she trailed her long, hard tongue, brushing the sensitive flesh tantalizingly, each contact bringing a snapping, reflexive jerk from Gayle's body.
Then Betty picked up the rhythm a little, licking in long, slow movements that lapped from the budding, delicate nodule of her clitoris, along the warm, wet slit of her vagina to the tightly-puckered ring of her anus, the hard, brown circle clenched shut as if to keep out this intruder on its privacy.
All along the sensitive crevice she lightly slithered her probing tongue, slowly and skillfully picking up the tempo, making her long strokes harder and deeper as they grew faster.
Gayle was growing weaker as the hot flames of wanton desire burned away her strength-she was unable to hold herself up in her bent-over position. Suddenly she dropped to her knees, catching herself on her palms.
But Betty didn't miss a beat. Almost as if it were rehearsed, she dropped onto all fours, her face still buried in the moist warmth of Gayle's hungry cunt, probing gingerly at the wet, open hole with her tapered tongue.
What a sight the two girls made for the onlookers-the two of them on their hands and knees, Gayle glassy-eyed with desire, her mouth hanging open; and Betty licking lustily at her inflamed passage, seemingly as wild with passion as Gayle.
Her mouth opened wide as if about to scream, but only a deep, throaty moan came out, as if from her very soul. And in an instant, everyone in the room could see why-Betty's long tongue had found its mark, and was squirming its way further and further into Gayle's hungry, grinding pussy. First, a slow rolling motion around the wet opening, and then deep inside, as far as the long, fleshy tongue could reach, her nose in the warm lips of Gayle's vagina.
like the fleshy forked probe of a serpent, Betty's tongue lashed out faster and faster, each thrust tunneling its way into her yearning young cunt.
Anne looked around her at the others. It was fast becoming an orgy, to no one's surprise. She couldn't make out any of the couples clearly, but from the giggles and squirming movements apparent all over the room, it was only too obvious what was happening.
She felt as though she should be repulsed by all of this, that it should be somehow filthy and disgusting to see so many people giving in to their lust and unbridled desire. But it didn't affect her that way at all-instead of repulsion, she felt instead a dull, aching deep in her belly-the unmistakable pain of a woman in need. She squinted to steal a peek at the couple directly opposite her, and even in the darkness she could see the definite shape of the man's fully erect cock, standing up straight as an arrow from his loins. And in the dim reflected red light, she could see that the girl snuggled beside him was stroking it, up and down its full length, almost in perfect time with Betty's thrusting tongue just a few feet away, burrowing into Gayle's hot grinding vagina.
She could feel the aching of desire grow more intense watching the man's large, thick cock bucking under the girl's grip, her fingers barely circling the heavy shaft. The girl's pumping fist moved faster and faster, up the long cock to the swelled tip, then back to the bushy clump at its base. Harder and harder she pumped his throbbing penis, until finally, after a few minutes, Anne heard a trio of short, staccato gasps and saw the man fall back against the chair, his bulky cock now like soft clay in the girl's fingers. And she could see the tell-tale white puddle on his bare leg, oozing down his hairy thigh-and she knew it was over for the moment, for him at least.
Betty had lowered her head just a little, and now, instead of licking at Gayle's tender, moist passage, she was nibbling on the sensitive bud of her clitoris, rolling the delicate bundle of nerves between her teeth, sucking it into her mouth. Gayle was obviously nearing her climax, her back arched, her mouth half-open, her head tossed back...
Suddenly Anne became aware of a hand on her bare leg, a hand that was gently and tenderly rubbing her naked flesh. She tried not to show her concern, but glanced from the corner of her eye. Carol was still at her side, and still watching Betty and Gayle intently, but her right hand was slowly rubbing Anne's thigh.
Then, as if she had received her cue, Carol began to edge cautiously along the smooth, soft skin of Anne's upper thigh, each gentle stroke moving further and further along the curve of her leg toward the inside.
Anne tightened involuntarily, and Carol's touch instantly became lighter. And when she relaxed, the smooth, caressing strokes began again.
She wanted to stop her, but Anne was too embarrassed. She felt as if everyone were watching, as if she, too, was part of the show.
Her cheeks reddened as Carol slipped her fingers down between Anne's tightly shut legs. Without knowing why, or wanting to know, Anne relaxed them just slightly, but enough to allow Carol's small fingers to slip around the fullness of her tender thigh. And there they stayed for several minutes, delicately caressing the soft flesh just inches below the junction with the rest of her body.
Anne felt a strangeness sweep over her body-a feeling she had never before experienced. Never in her life had another girl touched her in this way. Not even when she was a small child had a girl caressed her like this. And the sensation was entirely new-it wasn't like when a man caressed her, but it wasn't unpleasant, either. It was an overwhelming, totally different feeling, and Anne found it forbiddingly exciting.
She relaxed her legs a little more, and Carol took her signal without hesitation. Further up the soft inner thigh she eased her fingers, gently kneading the delicate flesh between them, until she was only an inch away from Anne's slowly awakening pussy.
Anne felt the wetness growing between her thighs as Carol continued her caresses. She was sure that it would stain the carpet, so great was the dampness.
Carol slipped a finger in the crevice between her upper thigh and her pelvis, and traced the crack down between her legs, until her fingers were gingerly brushing the fleshiness of Anne's buttocks, just beneath her vaginal slit, sending shivers throughout Anne's entire body.
Then, without warning, Carol eased her middle finger up along the slit of Anne's cunt, and shoved it quickly into the tight opening, as far as it would go between the soft, fleshy walls of the waiting pussy.
Anne jerked instinctively, but was ashamed to look toward Carol. Instead she looked away, biting her lip in an effort to regain her composure. In a moment, she could relax again, safely recovered from the initial shock of another girl's finger being buried in her vagina.
In the circle of flame-red light, Betty had her arms locked tightly around Gayle's thighs, her face buried in the wetness of her pussy. Suddenly, Gayle's mouth opened wide, and hung there for a few long seconds as everyone waited for what they all knew was about to happen. And then it all broke loose-Gayle let loose a loud, shattering cry that seemed to literally fill the room. On and on went the scream of ecstasy, as her juices streamed from her wildly quivering vaginal hole, drenching Betty's lips and tongue and coursing down her thighs. As her mournful moan finally subsided, she fell forward on her chest, squashing her large, soft breasts beneath her as she fell, and lay sobbing, in a crumpled heap on the carpet.
Someone cut the music back on, and most were aware for the first time that it had been missing.
Carol wiggled her upraised finger around in Anne's wet cuntal passage, moving it from side to side, curving it upward so that it rubbed against just the right spot.
Anne leaned back on her hands, her legs spread wide on the floor. She had lost the feeling that everyone was watching, and she felt safe and secure in the darkness. No one seemed to care about being entertained, and around the darkened room everyone seemed to be making their own entertainment.
Carol's finger felt good in her pussy, and Anne was beginning to admit it to herself for the first time. It didn't seem wrong anymore, just exciting. And Anne was ready for anything exciting, anything wild and abandoned. For nothing seemed wrong anymore, nothing seemed taboo. Anne felt like doing all the things she had always thought were bad, like a caged animal that had just been let free.
"Ohhh, that's it," she murmured to Carol, not caring who heard. "Oh, yes ... don't stop ... don't stop!"
Anne began to feel it coming-a welling deep inside her that surged in time to Carol's probing finger-each deep, thrusting jab bringing her closer and closer to an orgasm. And then it came, a quick over-powering emotional peak that was gone almost as quickly as it came, but was like gasoline poured on the flames inside her.
"That felt so good ... so good..." was all she could gasp out.
"Sh-h-h ... everyone will hear," whispered Carol in her ear.
"Who cares. Let them hear," she replied, opening her bare legs as wide as she could, her hips sliding back and forth on the carpet, thrusting to meet Carol's probing finger.
She leaned back even further, and her buttocks came off the floor, her back arching toward Carol's exploring fingers.
Someone changed the tape on the recorder, and the mood changed again. This time it was soft and subdued, a harsh contrast to the loud rock sounds. The projector was still beaming a circle of red light against the wall-uselessly, because all the action was elsewhere. Anne couldn't see either Debby or Gayle, but she could easily imagine what they were doing somewhere in the darkened room.
So completely caught up were Carol and Anne that they failed to hear anyone come near them.
"Uh, excuse me ... is this a private party, or can anyone play?"
Carol jerked her hand away from between Anne's widespread lips, snapping her head toward the voice.
"What the hell do you mean sneaking up on us like that?" she demanded, as if what she had been doing was completely normal.
"Take it easy," came the reply, and as the outline of a man leaned forward, then settled beside the two of them. I didn't mean any harm. I was just wondering if maybe you needed a little help."
He didn't wait for a reply.
"Come here, you good looking things."
With one huge arm around Carol, and the other around Anne, he pulled the two naked girls over on top of him, collapsing backward onto the floor. Carol was giggling like a schoolgirl on her first date.
"Hey, what are you doing. I..." Anne was cut short as he planted his lips firmly on hers, his tongue thrusting between her teeth and into the warm shelter of her mouth.
She was lying flat against him, her breasts smashed on her bare chest. With fantastic strength, he pulled her up further onto him. It was only then that she noticed he was nude. It had been too dark to tell before, but there was no doubt about it now. He had Carol pulled against one side, and Anne on the other, as he lay on his back on the floor. Anne could feel his enormously thick penis pressed against her leg. It felt like a thick, lead pipe-and every bit as hard.
His hand slid down her bare back and into the crevice of her backside. He wasn't wasting any time. His reach was just long enough-down the crack of her buttocks and into the warm, wet slit of her pussy.
Anne couldn't see, but his other hand was on Carol's gently squirming nakedness, squeezing the firm, ripe mounds of her buttocks between his strong fingers. Anne felt something moving against her leg, and knew it was Carol's hand clenched around his huge prick. Her tiny fingers barely came together around the thick shaft.
He stopped kissing her, and turned to Carol but not releasing his vise-like grip on Anne. She squirmed to get away, but it was hopeless. He held her pinned with one hand, like a cat holds a trapped mouse before the kill.
"Come on, why don't you just let me go?" she begged. "And anyway, you don't need both of us ... Why don't you let go, and I'll go away and leave you two alone." She figured maybe that line of reasoning would work, and Carol didn't seem to be putting up any argument at all.
Anne felt another pair of hands on her flesh.
"You know, she's right ... why don't you let me have her?"
Anne tried to see behind her, but she was being held too tightly.
"Sure, Ray, why not. Here ... she's all yours."
The big man pushed her away, and she scrambled to get on her feet. But it was too late. Ray grabbed her around the waist and pulled her down to the floor, pinning her nakedness under his body.
"No! Leave me alone ... I'll scream," she threatened, wrestling to escape from his grip. He wasn't nearly as big as the other man, and she was sure she had a chance.
"All you need is a helping hand, good buddy."
Anne looked up, straight into the face of the big man. He pulled both her hands away from Ray, and slammed them down against the floor.
He was directly over her face, leering down at her, a sick, twisted grin spread across his round face.
"I'll hold her arms. You do the rest."
Ray was on his feet, wearing only his under-shorts. He was just an inch too far away for her to kick, but she tried anyway, twisting and shaking like a fish on a line, fighting vainly to escape.
He enjoyed watching her squirm, knowing that in just a few seconds she would be all his, that his aching cock would soon be plunging into that white little belly of hers, right up to the hilt.
Ray just hoped she would be tight. And the tighter the better. That was the way he liked it, when he had to push and push until finally the warm fleshy walls opened up, and he could give that one big lunge and bury his long dick deep inside.
He'd seen the way she strutted around earlier, like maybe she had something special. Something too good for just anybody. Well, he'd show her. Before he was finished, she'd be begging for mercy ... maybe he'd make her blow him first-while the others watched. Yeah, that'd teach her. Down on her knees at his feet, choking and gasping for air as he threw it to her-right down that pretty throat of hers.
He smiled watching her naked young body writhing so helplessly at his feet, knowing what was coming for her. He'd made up his mind ... Something special for her. Before this party was over, she be on her knees begging for more ... and he'd give it to her. All she wanted and maybe a little more besides.
Someone changed the music again, and the acid rock once more filled the room, drowning out Anne's futile pleading.
"Carol ... Carol, do something. Make them stop ... Please!" she half cried, as her voice dropped off to a helpless whimper.
But Carol only smiled, so stoned that it all seemed funny to her. "Take it easy, baby ... What're you getting so up tight about? Nobody's hurting you. They just want a little fun, that's all." She was on her knees, behind Anne so she looked upside down as she looked up longingly, hoping someone would make it all end.
Only no one really noticed. The room was still semi-dark, but Anne could see that nobody cared what was happening to her. She could see a man's hard driving buttocks only a few feet away, and a pair of long bare legs wrapped around his back, and the glistening length of his hardened cock as it tunneled in and out of the soft hair-lined lips of the pussy of the girl beneath him. And she was sure she'd get no help from them.
"Please, please ... oh, please let me go. Please don't do it to me. Oh you can't..." Everyone went blurry as the tears filled her eyes, and there was no way to wipe them.
Ray unfastened the metal snap on his under-shorts, and let them fall to the floor. His long, thin cock was still hanging limply from his loins, but it was slowly coming alive, growing harder, swelling, rising up until finally it stood out straight and hard-like a long fleshy pole growing from his crotch.
He watched her struggling savagely on the floor, completely helpless in Benny Guilio's iron grip, and he couldn't help laughing. Benny was the strongest guy he knew-anywhere-and somehow the idea of this frail, tiny young girl fighting him like a tiger struck him as funny.
But he knew she wouldn't fight for long.
Baby, you might kick and squirm now, but I'm gonna' change all that. You'll be begging me to fuck you till you can't walk ... begging me!
Her long smooth legs flailed vainly in the air, and Ray could catch a glimpse of her upturned crotch whenever they kicked high enough. Even in the weak red light he could make out the soft sparse triangle of hair-the delicate pinkness of her pussy, its warm lips so exposed, so inviting.
I'd like to climb on that sweet little ass of yours right now, baby ... I'd slide into you like a knife into butter.
But Ray only smiled as he kicked his under-shorts aside, standing naked over her body. He caught Benny's eye-this wasn't the first girl they'd shared, and it wouldn't be the last. There was no need for a word to be said. Benny grinned-he had some plans of his own. But he didn't mind waiting.
CHAPTER 9
Bob was asleep for the first time in thirty six hours, sprawled across the back seat of the old Ford, his feet propped on the opposite door. Johnny Sanger and his wife Ellen were in the front, cuddled like newly-weds. Sleep was just what Bob needed, for there were seven hours of driving ahead, and Johnny would be needing a relief pretty soon.
At the airfield, it had seemed that his luck was really holding out. He'd noticed the license plates right away, but hadn't thought it right to horn in on two perfect strangers, especially when they were spending their first minutes together in months. He really hated to miss a chance like that, though-their city plates said Glen Forest, and that was only twelve miles from home. But even a real bastard wouldn't be so presumptuous, he told himself.
How could he help it if they just happened to be standing three feet away when he asked the bus dispatcher for the departure time of the next bus to College Park? He'd felt like a heel, but only for a few minutes, and after first refusing their offer, then waiting for them to insist, he tossed his gear in their trunk, and off they drove.
Johnny would make it in record time, for he had a lot of catching up to do after a year in Vietnam.
* * *
The strange man dropped to his knees on the soft carpet, at Anne's feet. She lay frozen in fear, watching him and waiting-knowing what he was going to do, yet hoping it was all a terrible dream and that maybe she would wake up and everything would be all right. The effects of the marijuana had not worn off, and she was finding it hard to think rationally; although she knew there was nothing she could do.
Chuckling to himself like a crazed lunatic, Ray grabbed her soft legs just below her knees, and pushed them up and over her body until they pressed roughly against her breasts, opening the whole expanse of her upturned crotch to his view like a buffet dinner, waiting to be eaten.
He dropped his head to her crotch, spreading the soft light hair aside with his fingers, and flicked his tongue into the warm wetness of her pussy, wiggling the tip of it into the soft, fleshy lips.
Anne snapped like a whip as the sudden contact sent an electrifying chill racing the length of her spine, as if a hot wire had been touched to her naked loins.
He held her thighs pinned back with his clammy palms, keeping her from closing her legs. She was afraid to look, but when she did, she could see him crouching like an animal, leering up at her across the flat plane of her belly and the twin mounds of her breasts jutting up like bulging mountain peaks. Never had she felt so completely naked, so horrifyingly exposed, as the delicate moist flesh of her vagina lay so defenseless before him, thrust up at his savage, leering face, his tongue moistening his lips as he prepared to take what he wanted.
For a few long moments he watched her, his cruel eyes staring straight into hers, savoring every golden second, as she trembled in abject horror beneath his gaze. Then, slowly, again with his fingers, he gently spread apart the ragged pink lips of her vagina, opening up the moist slit and the bud of her clitoris-like a jewel box containing the finest precious stone. He eyed it hungrily for a moment, then with an animal-like grunt, buried his face in the soft wetness, his long rough tongue squirming its way deep between the quivering walls of her cunt. She jerked again, and this time was unable to hold back a soulful moan from deep inside as she wiggled to escape his agonizing assault on her loins.
"Oh, please! Noooooo..." She begged and whimpered before him like some wretch facing death, watching with unbelieving eyes as his head bobbed up and down between her legs, burrowing greedily into her widespread crotch.
"This can't be happening. No ... please! Nooo..." She fell back on the carpet, too defeated to struggle any more, and the big man loosened his grip on her arms. She had almost forgotten he was there, and she closed her eyes tightly to avoid looking straight up into his huge face.
"Here, take some of this," said the giant of a man kneeling over her. "It'll make it better."
Anne wasn't sure whether he was being helpful, but she defensively took another long drag on the marijuana joint, then another, until she could feel her muscles loosen and her fears ease. He started to take it away, but she pulled it back with her lips. Again and again she puffed the sweet smoke into her lungs, holding it in deeply as she'd seen the others do.
"You'd better be careful, sweetheart," warned Denny. "That's powerful stuff."
But Anne only wanted to be numbed, to make everything fuzzy and then, maybe, she wouldn't be aware of the leering animal licking at her crotch like a hungry dog.
Only she got more than she bargained for. It wasn't noticeable at first, but then she felt again the wild tingling at every nerve ending in her body. Her thighs felt as if someone were tickling her with a long feather, and suddenly her naked body was burning with a hot flame, raging out of control. Every square inch of her body was alive with thousands of tiny pinpricks. She couldn't stay still, her buttocks ground desperately into the carpet.
She fought it fiercely, but there wasn't strength enough in her dazed mind to hold it back; and, in seconds, her hot, wet pussy ached for a cock, and nothing else would satisfy this burning need that had taken her in its grip.
"Oh, God ... That's so good..." she moaned as he rolled his hard tongue around the sensitive bud of her clitoris, ripples of pleasure coursing out across her belly and into the throbbing pink nipples of her firm, young breasts. Slowly the wanton shivers of desire pushed aside her fear and humiliation, and against her will she began to enjoy his lewd hands probing salaciously at her tender flesh.
Harder and harder he sucked on her clitoris, as she arched her back up off the floor, grinding her wet vaginal slit hard against his face. Her entire body was jerking as he burrowed his tongue between the hot, fleshy lips of her helplessly quivering cunt, worming it far inside between the warm, wet walls.
Anne was on fire with flaming desire. Her vagina felt as if it was a gaping hole, big enough to take on every man in the lodge. All reason had left her, driven out by the strong drug, and with it, her self-control. She pulled against Benny's grip, and he let her go. It was obvious that she wouldn't try to escape. Grabbing Ray's head, she pulled his entire face into her hot, squirming loins, pushing his tongue further into her ravenous passage. But it wasn't enough.
"Fuck me ... fuck me!" she gasped, her pussy a raging inferno. "Fuck me hard!"
Ray pulled away from between her widespread legs, his face wet with her cascading sexual juices. "Okay, honey. You don't have to ask me twice!" he grinned obscenely down at her pleading face.
He grabbed her flailing legs and pushed them tightly against her sweat soaked body. His stiff cock was brushing against her soaking wet pubic hair as he positioned himself perfectly, his hands braced on the floor beside her, and her ankles locked tight behind his neck. He looked up and noticed that Benny was grinning with excitement, his face covered with a dumb slobbering leer. He had unzipped his pants and slid his left hand inside, kneeling just over Anne's face.
Both men watched eagerly as Ray eased his throbbing cock up to the hot, fleshy lips of her vagina. Her narrow slit was pulsing with the maddening desire that had swept over her. Anne could see his form hovering over her, but in her drug-heightened euphoria, it didn't matter who it was. It could have been Bob or a thousand other men. All that mattered was that hard, fleshy rod of hardened cock poking teasingly at her hungry cunt as she twisted her hips wildly, desperately grinding her wet crotch up at its throbbing head.
"Now! Please, now!" She would go raving mad without it! "Fuck me with it! Punch it to me! Oh, God, punch it to me!"
She reached down desperately and grabbed it with both hands, stroking it hungrily with her half-closed palm, pulling on it, feeling it grow even larger and harder under her soft touch. She could feel the blood pumping into it, swelling it right in her hand. Her fingers grew sticky as it oozed a tiny flow of warm, slippery semen from the bulbous tip.
And then...! "Aaaaaagggh!" Anne's lust twisting body was smashed hard down against the floor with a loud thud as Ray slammed his hardened cock mercilessly into her belly, pushing aside the soft, fleshy walls of her cunt in one long, deep lunge.
"Oh, God! You're hurting..." Anne was unable to finish her plea, for Ray pulled his long prick almost out of her hot, wet vagina and drove forward again, smashing against her cervix with a grinding lunge. Not for an instant did he slow his unrelenting rhythm, each pistoning thrust seemingly deeper than the one before. Anne could see nothing but bright circles of light flashing in front of her eyes like dozens of flashbulbs exploding.
"What's wrong, baby," he sneered. "Too much for you?" He punctuated his words with another deep thrust, burying his cock to its brushy hilt in the wetness of her pussy.
Lunge after lunge disappeared in the warm, moist depths of her cunt, every agonizing thrust sending bone-shattering jolts of excitement through her tense, naked body. Anne couldn't see the three couples who were standing over her writhing form, watching with wide lust filled eyes as Ray pumped into her like a hot-blooded stallion, holding her legs back over her shoulders so that his powerful thrusts drove his long, hard cock deep into her hole. Six pairs of eyes watched intently as his stiff prick slithered between the grasping, wet lips of her vagina, squeezing it like a fist as it slid deeper and deeper inside.
Again and again his stiff cock tunneled into the hungry, clutching lips of her clenching vaginal hole, and with each smashing thrust Anne was sure she could stand no more. Each time it seemed to be pounding into her very belly, and she could feel the first signs of nausea welling in her stomach.
"Please ... Please. You're hurting me..."
She was barely able to get the words out.
Ray knew she was helpless now, and that she would take whatever he wanted to throw at her, and he cased his pounding pace to a slow, deep rhythm, gently sawing in and out of her warm, wet cunt with long, smooth strokes. His hands were on her upturned thighs, and he could feel the muscles loosen as he slowed his savage thrusts.
The others watched as though hypnotized, not turning away for a second, as he eased his wet, glistening cock out of the eager lips of her cunt until only the tips remained in its warm clutches, then pushed forward smoothly, the shaft disappearing between the hot, moist folds of pink flesh until it lay buried to the base deep inside, his hairy pelvis flat against the soft flesh around her wet opening. With each deep thrust his aching balls slapped wetly in the crevice of her ass, turned up high off the floor by the painful S-shaped position he was holding her in.
He could see that she had abandoned herself to the wild passion brought on by the drugher eyes were opened wide, her head thrown back almost to the floor, her hair fanning out behind her in a soft, blonde swirl on the carpet.
She looked up-and found herself staring at the thick, bulky length of Benny's short cock as he knelt over her passion contorted face. He was working himself into a frenzy watching this beautiful young girl being fucked like a wild bitch in heat right in front of him, and was pumping on his short, fat prick like a pump handle-his eyes glued on the savage ravishment at his feet. Anne felt a hot, sticky drop of his semen drip from the bulbous tip onto her cheek, but in her drugged state it didn't matter.
"Oh, yes ... That's it ... That's it..." she mumbled through her tightly closed teeth. Ray had found just the right pace, and she was urging him on, her own juices lubricating her hot, fleshy passage as he rocked into her again and again. She thought she could see the faces of the others standing around her, but she wasn't sure. Either way, it didn't concern her. The flames of desire were burning out of control in her belly, and there was only one way to quench them. Grinding her crotch up to meet his deep thrusts, she grabbed his buttocks with both hands and pulled him hard into her, forcing his long, hard cock even further into her womb.
Someone held a lighted "joint" to her parched lips, and without hesitation she took a long searing drag that seemed to explode in a burst of color in the top of her head. She took another and the faces around her fused into a greasy smear of pinks and browns. For her nothing existed except her burning pussy and the agonizing need to satisfying its raging hunger.
She heard Benny say something, but the words all seemed to run together, and she couldn't make it out. But she knew he was saying something for the others were laughing.
What is he saying ... I've got to try to make it out ... They're laughing-all of them . . they're laughing at me ... I know they are! They're laughing at me!
Anne was straining to understand, but the words just bounced around meaninglessly in her head. Suddenly she felt strong hands under her body, and more under her shoulders. She was being lifted! The room spun wildly as she was lifted higher and higher.
What's happening to me!? What are they doing to me...
The relentless plundering of her wet pussy didn't ease for a moment as Ray and Benny lifted her bodily off the floor and turned her completely over-her knees touching the floor and her breasts smashed against Ray's hairy chest. He was fucking her in short, deep bursts from underneath as she lay on top of him. His lips locked onto hers, and she felt his long, rough tongue probing into her mouth, as he wormed his way into her from both ends. Her buttocks were sticking straight up, waving like a flag in the air behind as he pumped into her from below, his long cock bending just a little as it pushed its way up into her cunt.
Her ass snapped forward involuntarily as she felt the unmistakable prodding of something against her tiny, clenching rectum. She clenched her buttocks tightly shut, desperately trying to ward off her unseen attacker. But the probing shaft wasn't to be held off so easily. Again it forced its way between the cheeks of her ass and pushed against the tightly puckered opening of her anus. She turned her head numbly-It was Benny! His short, thick cock between both hands as he pushed it between her buttocks, a drooling grin spreading wetly over his lasciviously leering face.
"No ... Ugg ... No..." Anne couldn't make the words come out right. "Not there..."
She squirmed her helpless upturned buttocks defensively from side to side to dodge his hard thrusts, and for a few minutes was able to keep him from entering her tight puckered anus. But Ray pinned her tightly to his chest with his arms wrapped around her, and she was unable to move her hips at all. Benny pressed the smooth rubbery head of his cock against the tight rings of muscle around her anus, pushing with all his strength to get the thick shaft inside her.
Someone yelled from the jumbled haze of onlookers. Anne could make out the words.
"Spit on it, Benny! You'll never get it in that way." Anne cringed at the horrifying thought.
Benny grinned dumbly and spat on his hand, then smeared his bulky cock with the liquid. This time it slipped neatly into her tightly cringing rectum, penetrating the full length-nearly four inches inside the tender passage.
Anne cried out as the short, thick shaft entered her from behind.
She pushed down vainly on Ray's jerking cock, only stopping when she had reached its hilt, but there was no escape from the enormous probing trunk entering her from the rear. As Anne squirmed frantically to escape the impaling cudgel, the elastic skin around her ass-hole stretched wide to accommodate the mercilessly invading cock.
It excited Ray even more to know that another man was fucking this same young girl from the rear, and he started fucking her tight, wet cunt with hard upward jabs as Benny sawed into her from behind with his thick hardened shaft.
She slid upward on Ray's stiff, probing rod, almost to the tip. And as she did, Benny's prick sank deep into her nether hole from behind. The initial pain was slowly vanishing as the fleshy opening gradually stretched to allow this intruding shaft to slide more easily into her backside. She was beginning to enjoy this incredible sensation of being fucked by two men at the same time. The drug had heightened all her senses, and once the pain had lessened, her insatiable desire again took hold, and she began to cry out with pleasure as the men fucked her in a way she had never experienced before.
Ray was getting into his stride, and pumping into her with short upward jabbing movements, grunting with delight as their moist, sweating bellies slapped obscenely together. Benny was punctuating Ray's thrusts with short, powerful lunges of his own into the tiny forbidden opening back between her wide stretched buttocks.
Anne began to slowly and rhythmically grind her hips, making sure that both swelling cocks sank deep to their full length in her front and rear passages. She was now kneeling on all fours, her breasts dangling salaciously beneath her as Ray nibbled hungrily on the throbbing tips, her entire body a mass of wild, quivering nerves.
The ingredients had driven her out of her mind with lust-the drug, the fantastic sensation of being fucked by two men at once, the masculine smell of sweat as they strained every muscle grinding into her again and again. She was oblivious to those watching her-it didn't matter who saw her now. She wanted this moment to go on forever-to never end.
Her orgasm, which had been so long coming, rose up inside her like a tropical fever, making her head swim, her blood boil, a million colored stars exploding before her eyes. She humped up and down on Ray's upraised cock as fast as she could, shoving her ass out to meet Benny's cock wedged in her crack. She couldn't hold back any longer.
With a soulful moan that seemed to fill the room, she collapsed with all her weight on
Ray's throbbing manhood, her toes clawing at the carpet, a great flood of her love juices flowing down onto his belly and trickling wetly around his balls.
Benny was the first to empty his load into her belly, his short, stubby cock quivering with delight as it jettisoned its sticky load in her naked, writhing loveliness. He grunted like a boar pig as it jerked its stream into her tightly clenching rectum. With one final gasp, he pulled the rubbery mass from the tight grip of her rear passage, and fell backwards heavily on the floor, still grinning like a madman.
Ray held back until Benny had jerked his deflated penis from her sperm-flooded rectum, then pumped with renewed strength upwards into her hungry cuntal passage. It only took a few more thrusts; then, he pushed his whole body off the floor for a few brief moments, ramming his lust-inflated cock as far as it would go up inside her cunt. It gave one final jerk, then exploded like a grenade inside her womb, filling her with his hot, sticky semen that mingled salaciously with her own juices and hotly trickled down the length of his rapidly deflating prick and along the crevices of his crotch onto the rug below.
Anne could feel the flood of sperm sloshing inside her, both her passages soaking wet with the warmly mingling sperm. She wearily untangled herself from Ray, and rolled over on her side. Never had she felt so completely satisfied as at this moment. All her deepest, innermost desires had been completely fulfilled.
She offered no protest, no resistance as another pair of hands rolled her back up on her knees. She wanted it again and again! God, how she wanted it!
CHAPTER 10
Bob got as far as the door to his apartment before he realized he didn't have a key.
Oh well, it won't hurt Anne to get up a little early. And this is something of a special morning.
He rapped the door a few times, trying not to knock loud enough to wake the neighbors-just Anne. No answer. He knocked again, this time a little louder, but still not a sound from inside.
Surely she couldn't have gone to work already, he told himself, putting down his heavy duffel bag. He checked his watch to be sure of the time.
I'm sure this is the right time, I checked it with Johnny when he dropped me off. Where could Anne be at five minutes past five in the morning?
Bob left his bags by the door and went downstairs to wake up Mr. Kracowski, the building manager. He could hear someone moving inside, so he didn't have to wake anyone up after all. Mrs. Kracowski came to the door, holding the morning coffee pot in her left hand.
"Why Mr. Hartley!" she exclaimed, her half-closed eyes suddenly widening. "What are you doing here? I didn't think you were due back for months yet!" Her expression changed abruptly to one of concern. "You aren't ... I mean, you haven't been ... hurt or anything?" she asked.
"No, no. Nothing like that," reassured Bob. "I'm going back to school for my last year. At the Army's expense ... I'll fill you all in later. Right now I need a key to our apartment."
"Oh, isn't Mrs. Hartley there. It's only..." She stopped suddenly, as if she knew she'd said something wrong. Bob suddenly felt he should make some excuse.
"She said something about leaving early for work," he lied. "That's probably where she is."
Mrs. Kracowski let her breath out, glad to be off the hook, even if she didn't believe a word of Bob's explanation.
"Come on in, Bob. I'll have Lou get you a key. Won't take but a second."
Bob opened the door to the apartment, hesitating a little as he pushed open the door. Something just didn't seem right. He couldn't quite pin it down, just a strange feeling of uneasiness. The door opened wide, and Bob tossed his bags onto the sofa. The kitchen light was on, as if Anne had just stepped out for a cup of sugar.
"Anne, honey! Anybody home?" He tried one more time, then peered around the corner into the bedroom. Their bed was neatly made up, no clothes scattered around like Anne usually left them; not a sign that anyone had been around all night.
This is ridiculous, Bob told himself. I shouldn't be worrying. Of course there's some logical explanation. Maybe she really did go to work early. She might have stopped for breakfast or something ... That's it! I'll bet she left so early so she could eat breakfast out. She probably got paid this week and felt like splurging a little...
Bob sprawled comfortably on the sofa, propping his feet on his duffel bag. He could feel every muscle in his body slowly loosening for the first time since he left the airfield. All those hours of driving had taken their toll, and in a couple of minutes he was in the midst of a deep troubled sleep.
* * *
Anne climbed painfully from the cab, tossing the driver the money Ray had given her. "Hey, wait lady! This is a twenty!"
Anne didn't even turn her head. "You keep it!" she yelled, trying her best to run up the steps to the front door. Her legs just wouldn't come together-they felt like a block of coarse sandpaper was shoved between her thighs, rubbing her raw, tender flesh as she walked. Her loins were a mass of bruises as she struggled up the stairs, past the Kracowski's door and up to her apartment. She fumbled through the wadded tissues in her purse, damp with tears, and found her key. The sun was well up by this time, and the living room was flooded with the early rays of morning. Anne shielded her reddened eyes from the stinging glare.
And then she saw the tired, motionless form on the sofa, sprawled like an abandoned rag doll over the duffel bag and cushions.
"Bob ... Bob! BOB ... Is it really you!" His eyes popped open as he sat up. "Oh, Bob darling..." She fell on him, pushing him back on the cushions. "When did you get here!? What are you doing back so soon?" Anne rapid-fired the questions at him without waiting for an answer.
"Now, hold on a minute. One thing at a time."
Bob explained about the early release, about the Army's offer, and as much of the rest as he could piece together between kisses and hugs.
But Bob's curiosity had the best of him.
"Honey, where have you been at this hour of the morning? I thought you'd gone to work or something? Mrs. Kracowski thought you were here. As a matter-of-fact she seemed kind of surprised that you weren't ... Anne, there is a perfectly reasonable explanation ... isn't there?" All the excitement suddenly vanished from Anne's face. For a few precious moments she had forgotten all about the awful evening she had just experienced-about all those pawing hands-and about all the other nights; and it all slammed back into her like a truck-load of cement.
Her eyes puffed and watered, but there were no tears left. Anne knew that the time for crying had long since passed.
"Bob ... I..." She couldn't do it-the words just weren't there.
Oh God-How can I tell him ... His first few minutes back and I have to destroy him with this.
She looked into his eyes-deep and trusting, with hardly a trace of doubt.
"Uh ... I was having breakfast with a girlfriend. She goes to work really early and ... and she wanted to talk to me about some problems she's having with her husband. You know-girl talk, that sort of thing." Anne couldn't tell from his face whether he was swallowing her story.
"Oh, I see," he said, "So you came back because it's still too early for you to go to work, right?"
"No, darling ... not exactly," confessed Anne. "You see ... I..."
"Have you lost your job, honey? Is that what you were trying to tell me? Why didn't you just say so? You know how I feel about you working anyway?"
The terrible truth was filling her like a balloon about to burst, but she held it back, fighting the agonizing guilt that was welling inside her.
"I didn't get fired, Bob ... I quit. I'm sorry, I know it was the wrong thing to do, but I just couldn't take it any longer." She hid her face against his shoulder, safe and secure, for the moment, in his strong protective arms.
"Now, now, sweetie," said Bob reassuredly, "That's nothing to get upset about. Plenty of people quit their jobs. I mean, it's not the end of the world. And besides, you don't have to worry about money for a while. I've got plenty coming to me, and the Army's footing the bill for me to finish school. I'm going to see Dean Richardson in the morning, and in a few weeks, if all goes well, I'll be back in class, What'ya think about all that? Pretty good, huh?"
Anne had to force herself to concentrate on what he was saying, for the words seemed to slip right past her. All she could think of was the painful reality that she knew would eventually have to come out like cancer, and every second with Bob made it seem more and more impossible.
"That's great, darling. Just great. Does that mean you won't have to go back in the Army?" she asked hopefully.
Bob squeezed her even tighter to his chest.
"Oh, no-I'll still be in the Army; in fact, I'll be serving an extra hitch. But I'll be right here with you for at least a year. And we'll be together every single day!"
Anne bit her lip to hold back the tears. She wanted so badly to be able to cry, as if crying could wash away her guilt.
I can't tell him...I just can't! No matter what happens to me, I can't allow Bob to find out...
Now she was even more confused and helpless than ever before, for suddenly this moment she had hoped and prayed for so long was here, and Anne Hartley was faced with the awful truth: Bob's homecoming was not the beautiful ending to her endless nightmare, but only the beginning ... they would never let her go ... not with the terrible hold those awful people had over her ... never ... they would make her commit horrible adultery over and over again ... and she knew even now that she would do it. . . or anything else they asked if she could just buy a little time to keep her husband from ever finding out. She had to do it. . . she just had to...
"Darling, take me to bed and make love to me, please make love to me." She groaned to him desperately, tears welling in her eyes it was the only way to forget what tomorrow held in store for her ... the only way!
