STEVEN WAYNE ARRIVED AT THE DESIREE DUNCAN PROGRESSIVE SCHOOL FOR GIRLS AS AN instructor in English. He wound up owning it, and anyone who came in contact with him. A callous rake, he used women to achieve his ends, irrespective of their feelings. His lust knew no bounds, nor his personality any conscience. He was the completely amoral man, one whom L.T. Woodward, M.D., possibly had in mind when, in his work, Sex Fiend, he wrote: "There is a darker side to sex ... channeled into other, darker pathways, far from that honest love of man for woman, woman for man, which is its true fulfillment. It becomes a compulsive force that can transform human beings into monsters."
1
STEVE WAYNE ARRIVED AT THE FRONT GATES OF Desiree Duncan Progressive School for Girls just a little past noon. He stood in the gateway to the campus for a long time, watching the little cunts scurry back and forth to the cafeteria, or to the shaded tables where they could eat food bought at the little outdoor counter the school ran for them.
A lesser man, he thought, might have felt a kind of sweet sting at the sight of all that fine young girl-flesh that he couldn't get into. But not Steve. He intended to get into them. As many as possible.
In his whimsical moments, Steve believed that he was a very old-fashioned man where women were concerned, and that his ideas regarding them were similar. Not the kind of ideas they had about them around 1890, but the really old-fashioned ideas they had about them in Persia and Turkey and places like that. He felt that they were here for just one purpose: to give men pleasure. They should be enjoyed, he thought, without regard to any troublesome ideas of morality or any empathic feelings for them as persons. The chief method of enjoying them, of course, was by screwing. But there were other ways, ways that made the screwing better, as seasoning made a good steak better. He liked to bring them down off of their pedestals, down to the ground, and make them beg a little. He liked to humiliate them. That was the way to show them who was running things.
He started across the campus, toward the administrative offices, pleasantly conscious of the frankly admiring glances of the girls. He walked erect, with his chest thrust out and his head held back, and with just the right mixture of dignity and friendliness; and the girls nudged each other and said things about him and giggled. Some of the girls actually stopped and looked at him the way boys might have looked at a beautiful woman. Steve pretended not to notice.
The administrative offices were contained in the old building, stately and vine-covered and a far cry from the modern architecture of the library and science buildings that, he had read, had been donated by some rich alumna ten years ago.
The receptionist looked up from her typewriter and back at it, and then did a perfect double take. She looked at Steve as though wondering whether she had ever seen him in the movies.
"Yes, sir?"
"I'm Mr. Wayne. I'm here to see Miss Wilson about employment as an instructor." He glanced at his watch, bringing his wrist up in a short, gracefully masculine motion. "I'm afraid I'm a little late. This is the first time I've ever been here, and I had to find my way."
"Yes, sir. Miss Wilson is expecting you." She pressed down on a button on the intercom, announcing Mr. Wayne's presence. A voice sweetly familiar to Steve said to send him in.
The principal's office was old and worn and comfortable-looking. Traditional, he thought, like the rest of the place.
Eva sat behind her desk, which was a massive piece of wood, scarred and stained with time and two score past occupants. She was dressed in a shapeless, black wool dress, and her hair was pulled back in a bun. Instead of the chic harlequin glasses he remembered on her, she wore octagonal wire-rimmed ones. She had no makeup on, except for a very pale shade of lipstick.
Nevertheless, she was beautiful. All the lumpy clothes in the world couldn't hide that fact.
She smiled in a business-like manner.
"Come in, please, Mister. Come in, Steve."
Steve smiled warmly back at her, and stepped close to the desk. This near, he could see that her skin was as fresh and lovely as it had been back at Purnell High.
"Hello, Eva," he said, injecting just the right amount of emotion into his voice. She blushed a bit and looked down at some papers on her desk.
"I've been going over your qualifications, Steve. They're really very impressive. Oh, please sit down."
He sat in a comfortable chair facing the desk and crossed one ankle over the other leg. "Your college grades are really outstanding. And I see that your thesis was published."
"I had a lot of good help, Eva. Most of my instructors were women."
She looked up at him again, and her cheeks grew pink as she looked into his eyes to see if there was any personal meaning in the remark. Steve looked back at her innocently.
"Yes," she said finally. "That would make a difference."
"I selected them on that basis."
"Still, you couldn't have achieved all this without learning something about English. So I suppose well have to conclude that you have the necessary knowledge to be a good instructor. That's why I decided to hire you, Steve. Not for any other reason." She looked straight at him, her eyes locking on his as she said that. Steve looked back at her with just the hint of a twinkle in his own eyes. Finally, she looked down at the papers again, and he noted that the pink in her cheeks had deepened.
"Of course," he said. "I appreciate your faith in me, Eva. I think you ll find me quite satisfactory."
"You're aware that the job is officially just temporary. You're here to replace an English professor who had to have a sudden and unexpected operation. Unofficially, no one expects her to return to her place here. So if you work out, well probably hire you on a permanent basis next year. And if you're as popular as I remember," she said smiling briefly, "well probably have to rehire you or face a torchlight march on the part of the students."
"And I'll be carrying the first torch."
She looked at him sharply, as though wondering whether to pounce on the double meaning of his words and put him in his place right away. But he had left his meaning just vague enough so that she couldn't do it without looking foolish to both of them.
"The job," she said instead, "pays sixty-five hundred a year and your quarters. If you're put on permanently later, you'll get a raise of course."
"Thank you. That's satisfactory."
"You could make more at a state college."
"Money isn't everything."
He found his quarters after the meeting with Eva.
She had given him the keys once he had signed the contract, and had then gone back to the front gate, gotten his car, and driven it around to the access road that led to the instructors' cottages. m
The cottages were small but in pretty good repair. They had four rooms and a small kitchen. Steve brought in his overnight bag and then lay down on the bed for a while before unpacking the rest of his things. He kicked off his shoes and stretched out, his tie undone and his shirt open at the throat. He looked at the ceiling and thought about Eva Wilson. She looked as good as ever. Better, maybe. Or maybe he had just forgotten how good she looked. And how good she was. He could remember, now, the sight of that auburn hair fanned out on a white pillow case, those fine, full lips moist and parted, as she looked up at him expectantly.
He had met her when he was seventeen. She was then teacher at Benjamin Purnell High back in Willow Branch, when he had transferred to there from the school in White, fifty miles away. His father had been transferred there and had received a promotion in Willow Branch. Steve didn't like changing schools in the middle of the year, but he really didn't have much to say in the matter.
Miss Wilson was his English teacher, and he soon found that she was the object of desire and butt of nasty jokes of every boy in the school. No one knew much about her personal life, so naturally the boys felt it necessary and pleasant to make one up about her. Their mild fantasies were nothing as to what she had done in her time.
Steve didn't know it at the time either, of course, but Miss Wilson was engaged to a man who was out of the country on a foreign job, and she was being faithful to him. It was the first time since she was sixteen that she had gone so long without a cock, and she was getting a little nervous.
Steve had had little contact with girls. He was scared to death of them, and he knew that they thought that he was stuck up because of it, but he just didn't have the courage to face them and their apprehensions about his motivations.
The day he came into her class, Miss Wilson asked him to stay after school, since he had her last period, and she would try to bring him up a bit on what had been going on in the class before his arrival.
He came up to her desk afterward, and looked at her with a kind of longing in his eyes. He wasn't aware of the expression at the time, but he knew later that she had seen it there because she told him so.
She told him to pull up a chair and sit by her desk, and she would go over the parts of the text she'd had the students study. While going through the book, he felt her shoulder nudge him a little and smelled the perfume she was wearing, and the clean smell of her hair, and he drew back in a kind of panic, afraid she would think he was getting fresh. She looked up at him for a moment, and smiled.
Afterward she offered to drive him home. She had a nice car, only a year old, and he was so self-conscious sitting there next to her, that he didn't notice that she wasn't taking him to the address he had given her until they pulled up into a driveway next to a nice, stucco house. She flipped a switch under the dash and the garage door opened. The car was inside before he could ask her what was going on, and then the door ground shut again. The light was on. It filtered through the tinted glass of the windshield, and made everything look odd.
"Hey, what's-"
"Shh. Don't worry about a thing, Steve. Just relax and enjoy yourself. I'll do the work."
She leaned across the seat, and he felt her hands at his fly. He jerked in sudden fright at the touch, but before he could react in a more positive way, the zipper was down and his cock sprang out, stiff and rigid. It had been like that ever since her shoulder had brushed against him at school.! Her hand was warm and soft, and at the same time cool and strong on his prick, and as her thumb wandered up and moved over the head of it, he tightened up and cried out with the pleasure he felt. He grasped the arm rest on the car door and pushed his feet against the floor board as his body went rigid with the feeling. Miss Wilson moved her thumb across the deliciously sensitive skin again, and this time he cried out more loudly in the quiet of the garage. She laughed throatily and leaned down, and when he realized for sure what she was going to do, he went even more rigid; but his legs moved apart to give her room.
Her lips, those rich, moist, painted lips that had seemed as remote as the moon back in class, came down on his cock, brushing against it at first, playing with it, just a light kiss, as she might have kissed the cheek of a friend. Then they came down again, and this time the contact was less tenuous, more lasting, and she broke off again, and then the third time her lips were parted and he felt her tongue, moist and warm, slip over the prick. He dug his fingers into the soft upholstery of the arm rest as the sweet feeling swept over him, the kind of feeling he had only dreamed of.
Miss Wilson moved her mouth over the head of his prick, licking and sucking on it, and he arched his back, coming up off of the seat a little with the reaction. His free hand fell down onto her back, and he was aware, even through the flood of new sensations, of her body under his hand, the firm, soft body moving slightly as she went about her self-appointed job of Frenching him. He had never felt anything quite like it before. The feel of a woman.
Then the pleasure in his loins began to spread, in the form of a tingly sensation, up into his belly and down into his legs, and his body shook and jerked in little fits as the pleasure brought on a kind of convulsion in his hips and abdomen, and he couldn't even think of anything any more except that sensation, that ever-increasing pleasure that was filling his body and his head, and lights seemed to be going off behind his eyes, and he cried out more loudly than before with uncontainable joy. And then he spurted into her mouth, and he dimly felt an insane desire to apologize to her, as though he had committed some unpardonable faux pas. Then the lights blotted everything else out, and the pleasure reached a point that he wouldn't have thought possible before, and his hand tangled in her hair tightly, and her teeth grazed the head of his cock as he gave one last, mighty spurt into her mouth. Then it was over.
He sat limply, gathering strength, recovering from the experience, the most powerful experience he had ever undergone.
Miss Wilson lay with her face in his lap for a while, her cheek touching his cock lightly. Finally, she sat up and took his hand and pressed it against her, against the front of her dress where her breasts bulged it forward so startingly.
She reached across in front of him and opened the door, and he slid out and stood on the concrete floor. It felt strange under his feet. Everything felt strange and new.
The house was comfortable and well furnished. Without word, Miss Wilson led him straight to the bedroom where she began to undress. He looked on in silent wonder as her clothing came off and formed a pile in the middle of the carpet. When she was down to her bra and panties, she beckoned to him.
"Come here, won't you, darling? There's just no way to take one of these things off gracefully. Unhook me."
His fingers seemed as thick as sausages, and they were slick with nervousness, but somehow he managed to open the snaps of the bra. He was acutely conscious of the soft, fragrant skin beneath the garment.
When the last snap was free, she moved her shoulders in a graceful kind of shrug, sending little ripples across her back. The straps of the bra fell loose and dangled against her arms. She moved the arms away from her body and the bra dropped away. Then she reached behind her and took Steve's hands in hers and pulled them forward, circling her body with his arms. She cupped his hands over her own naked breasts, and he felt his cock become stiff as a spike at the feel of the soft, firm flesh. He could feel her breathing, the breasts moving steadily, and jiggling a bit as she trembled under his touch. The trembling surprised him. He was aware of his own excited state, but he hadn't thought that she would react so strongly to him.
Then she turned in his arms, swiftly plastering her body against his, belly to belly. Her arms circled his neck and drew his face down to hers. He didn't really know how to return it, and she had to take the lead in that, too, her tongue pressing into his mouth, searching through it wildly. Steve felt the thrills' of passion shoot through his body at the feeling and taste of her there.
Then she released him and stepped back. He felt like moving forward with her, keeping in contact, the wonderful, incredible feel of her body against his, but she was obviously running the show.
When she had opened some distance between them, she stopped and looked at him and moistened her lips, and her hands moved to her hips and hooked her thumbs in the elastic of her panties. The panties were white lace, like the bra, and you could almost see through them. He could see well enough to know that she was a genuine redhead.
The panties slowly inched down as she pushed them a bit in front, and then in back, evening the height, and then moved to the front again.
Then they were far enough down so that he could see her pussy, the soft mound of flesh, the mat of auburn hair; and then she dropped the panties and they fluttered down the length of her legs and lay in a little white puddle at her feet. She stepped free of the puddle.
She helped him undress, opening buttons and snaps and zippers, working unhurriedly, until he was as naked as she. He felt no self-consciousness, and the fact surprised him.
She went to the bed and, turning it down, lay on the expanse of white sheet, her hair invitingly fanned out, her moist red lips slightly parted, and he came to her, his cock jutting out before him like a sword, moving ridiculously fast, almost tripping over the piles of clothing on the floor.
He came down on the bed next to her as she slid whisperingly across the sheet to make room for him. His hands moved over her body with relish, stroking the fine white flesh, the silky skin that yielded to his touch, and he felt the heat boil up inside of him, the pressure of passion that filled his belly with fire.
Her hands were moving over his body too, softly slipping over his skin, now moving slowly, now more quickly, now slowly again, tantalizing and teasing him into a fit of passion. He felt his cock, so hard now it was painful, and her hands moved down through the mat of hair surrounding it and lingered softly on the organ, so softly he wasn't sure at first that she was touching it at all. It was like the touch of a fine piece of silk, so gentle it was.
Then her grip tightened, just a little at first, and then more, and then more yet, and he grunted harshly with the pleasure of those hands there, playing so firmly with him, and he felt the sudden moistness of excitement cover his prick, and then she pulled on him, and he moved toward her, reared up and hovered above her prone body as she spread her legs wide, opening herself to him. And he thought he had never seen anything so beautiful as she was at that moment.
She guided him into her as he came down, and he grunted again with pleasure as his cock moved into her, slipping between her labia and into her belly; he started to move, his body jerking and surging of its own volition, and then he felt his sperm welling up and demanding to be spilled, and he tried to hold it back, tightened his belly against it, but it was no use. The seed spilled into her, hot and sticky, and he cried out and heard her cry out at the same time as her arms locked tight about his neck, holding him to her, their faces pressed together. She was moaning into his ear now, and the sound was like some enormous wind, so close was her mouth to his ear. Then the lights went off in his head again as they had in the car, and then it was all over.
"Oh, wow!" she said. "I needed that. How I needed it!"
He turned to her, lying beside him, her body shiny slick with sweat, and he thought that she was still beautiful, almost as beautiful as she had looked there before, spread open for him, and he reached out and took a wisp of long, auburn hair in his fingers and fondled it. He moved his hand to her breast and cupped it, and she smiled at him.
"Was I any good?" he asked, and hoped the anxiety in his voice didn't make him sound as foolish as he was afraid it did. She smiled again.
"You were just fine, dear."
"No, really. Don't say something just to be nice to me. That's something I want to know. Am I any good?"
"You were too quick," she said gently. "But that's to be expected the first time, darling. You'll get over that with I experience. This was your first time. Don't ask me how I know, dear, but it's obvious. A man is always too quick on the first try. But I'll tell you this, my dear: I've never known a man, no matter what age or experience, who was more virile than you. You came on like gangbusters, sweetie. And right after what happened between us in the car, too. You're going to be phenomenal once you get into your stride."
"Thank you," he said. "I hope you're right. I guess that's something a guy worries about until he knows for sure. And I want to thank you for this, too. I mean it was great, and I never thought I'd ever get so lucky as to have a woman as beautiful as you and everything."
She laughed. It was a silvery sound.
"You talk as thought it were something all over and done with, Steve. Believe me, I'm not finished with you. I've gone to the trouble of starting you off. Now if you think I'm going to stand back and let the groundwork benefit a bunch of high school girls, you're crazy. You're a handsome boy, the handsomest I've ever seen, and I mean to enjoy you."
"You mean it? We'll do it again some time?"
"Not some time, dear. All the time. As often as possible..."
And they did, of course. They met after school and on the weekends, whenever he could get away from his parents without arousing their suspicions.
He would meet her on a street corner, anywhere she said, and then they would go to her house. She would drive into the garage and they would go inside and go to bed. They would play tag across the house, running through the house laughing and grab-assing. They'd take showers together, and then go to bed and start again.
In a couple of weeks he was screwing like a trooper. She couldn't say that he was too quick by then. He could hold it off like an experienced man, could time it so that they reached their climaxes together.
She then taught him other little things, little specialties that he had read about in books he'd gotten from other guys at school, thing that had always seemed wonderful and mysterious, and that now seemed even more wonderful and not mysterious at all.
She took the lead in their relationship, of course, being older than he, though not by as much as it seemed to him at seventeen. Actually, she was twenty-five. But she had been around the bush and found the handle. She was an experienced woman. She knew what to do with it, and he knew that he was getting the kind of education few young men received.
Then one day it changed. Their relationship took on a new look. They were lying beside each other in bed, having just humped away a Saturday morning, and he looked over at her and stroked her belly, feeling the beginnings of soft down above her pussy.
"You know what I'd like you to do for me?" he asked.
"What?" she purred.
"What you did for me that first day, in the car." She had done it for him countless times since, but to him it was always the thing she had done for him on the first day in the car. It was a wonderful thing, something that boys liked to bray about, but that most of them never in reality experienced.
She rose up on one elbow and looked into his face. Her hair hung down, like some kind of robe, past her shoulders. Deep red wisps of it tickled his face.
"Are you asking me to do it?" she asked.
"Huh? Well, sure."
"Then I won't." She lay back on the bed and looked at the ceiling. Her eyes looked far away, as though she had forgotten his existence. There was a kind of sadness in them.
Frantically, Steve thought for a few moments. What had he done to offend her? Or was it simply that she had grown tired of him? He wondered with a sudden panic if this was to be their last tryst.
He rose above her and looked down into her eyes. She seemed to come back with a start from wherever her mind had been, and she looked up at him expectantly.
"Why?" he asked, and it took greater courage to ask that question than it had ever taken him to do anything else in his life. "Why won't you do it?"
"Because you asked me to. I'm the kind of girl who-likes to be told, honey. I like to feel that the person I'm in bed with is a man. A man takes charge of situations. A woman follows his lead, does what he wants. At least that's the way I feel about it. I think that's an arrangement that is becoming to both of them. When I first tied up with you. Steve, I thought you had the makings of a real man. I knew I'd have to lead the way at first, until you got used to things, but I thought the time would come when you'd naturally take your place as the leader. I guess I was wrong."
She sat up and threw her legs over the edge of the bed. She started to get up. Steve felt a sudden rage pour hotly through him. He grasped her arm, his fingers closing about it so tightly she squealed and tried to jerk away. She might as well have tried to pull her arm free of a steel band. Steve jerked her toward him, and her legs twisted under her in an uncomfortable position. She squirmed, trying to right them, and he shook her roughly.
"Sit still, goddamn it!"
She was suddenly still, looking into his eyes with a kind of wonder mixed with a touch of outright fright. Steve kissed her roughly, his lips bruising hers, his tongue moving through her mouth as though it were his right, a place that belonged to him. Then he tangled his hands in her hair and pressed her face down toward his belly, down to the prick that was already hard and stiff for her. She drew back a bit in a kind of reflex action against being pressed by the strength of another. Then, suddenly, she relaxed and went down on him eagerly, her mouth devouring his prick, her tongue moving over it hungrily, greedily, licking and tasting it. Her lips caressed it gently and then not so gently, and he lay back and tried to relax, tried to make his body limp, and felt the muscles tighten up, bunch up like steel springs. His torso almost lifted free of the bed as his belly contorted in the sudden pleasure. He felt the sensations shoot through him, sweeping over his body, and the lights went off as always, and he grunted harshly and loudly, lying back on the limp, damp sheets, his breath a ragged saw.
Eva lifted her face from his crotch and moved up beside him again. She snuggled against him, and he fondled her lightly.
"Hadn't you better go home now?" she asked. "Your parents may be worrying about you."
"You let me worry about that," he said.
When he finally did rise to go, instead of telling him when she would see him again, she asked. "Well, what's next, darling?"
"Next Wednesday, after school. Pick me up in the usual place..."
2
THE DESIREE DUNCAN PROGRESSIVE SCHOOL FOR girls, or "Duzzydunc" as the students and, in their less guarded moments, the teachers and instructors called it, was a complete educational facility where the daughters of better families could receive their education from kindergarten through a Master of Arts degree. It was like a giant womb where girls could be put at an early age and kept most of the time until they were of age. Parents too busy to be bothered with their young charges could be free to pursue whatever course they chose for the paltry sum of a thousand dollars a month including board and room, athletic wear, the works.
Steve Wayne started his job there the day after he arrived. The classes weren't large, or course. That was one thing the parents were paying for: individualized instruction. So there were no more than twenty girls in any one class, with the exception of the physical education classes, of course.
The college instructors at Duzzydunc were required to carry a load of twelve units, or four classes. A few of them had to teach subjects part of the time which were in their minor field of study as opposed to their major, but not many. Steve, an English major, was assigned four classes in English literature.
It was his first full-time teaching position, and he faced it with greater confidence knowing that his classes would be composed entirely of girls. At a boys' school he might have been a bit nervous, knowing that he would be put on trial by the students, at least for a while, until he could prove his knowledge of his subject and his ability to maintain discipline in a classroom. But with girls, young ladies, well, he had nothing to worry about. He had never had any trouble with the opposite sex.
His first class was at ten a.m. It was a survey course in English literature from the beginning through the sixteenth century.
The professor he had replaced had managed to get the class up to Chaucer, and Steve launched directly into the tales called faliaux, those marvelous dirty stories with which Chaucer had delighted people for six hundred years.
As they went through the Miller's Tale, he watched the girls covertly. Some of them blushed furiously, and he mentally crossed them off his list. Some were very deliberately casual, pretending that the stories didn't bother them since they were too sophisticated. He made a mental note to keep an eye on these girls. Particularly on one of them. She was a blonde, about five-feet-two. like the others she wore a mini-skirt, but with her there was a difference. Her legs were lovely. As good as any he had ever seen. For that matter, the rest of her wasn't exactly disgusting. She had skin like a baby's, and her hair, worn long, hung down about her shoulders, barely touching the white sweater she wore. Her lips were just touched with pink lipstick, and she wore no other makeup, and needed none.
Steve waited until halfway through the hour before he very casually called on her to give an answer. He had taken care to instruct the girls to give their names when he called on them so that he could learn who they were as quickly as possible.
"Jenny Read, sir," the little blonde said, and he noted that she had a marvelous, silky voice. He looked at her in the way he had that always got to a girl without giving her any reason to think that he meant it that way. It was a kind of frank, admiring gaze, but filled with friendliness. She blushed a delightful pink and he saw her breasts, large for a girl her size, begin to pitch a little more rapidly. She stammered a bit as she answered the question.
He gave them the last fifteen minutes of the class to write an essay on Chaucer.
That night, back in his quarters, he went through the papers quickly, reading them and marking them. When he came to Jenny Read's paper, he slowed down and read it with greater care. It was somewhat above average, he decided. Definitely "B" work, no better and no worse. He marked a big, red "A" on it, and below, wrote. "Your statements are interesting, provocative and well-written. Please see me after class."
The next morning he passed the papers out before he began lecturing. When Jenny saw hers she looked surprised, then pleased. He saw her reading his note, and then she blushed a bit and turned the paper face down. She seemed to have trouble keeping her mind on the material the rest of the hour. Rut she didn't have any trouble keeping her eyes on Steve.
When the class was over and the other girls were filing out to go to their next classes Jenny remained at her desk, fiddling with papers and books, waiting for the room to empty out. Finally, she came up to Steve's desk. He rose a little from his seat as she approached. She sat in the chair he had placed beside his desk. She looked a little nervous and more than a little flustered.
"You have a considerable talent with words, young lady," Steve said, and smiled his warm, friendly smile.
"O-oh, thank you, Mr. Wayne."
"Have you ever considered going into writing seriously? Professional writing, I mean."
"No, sir. I guess it just never occurred to me. Do you think I'm really that good? You're not just pulling my leg?" She blushed furiously at her own figure of speech. Steve chuckled.
"Now why would I want to do something like that?" He watched her flush deepen before going on. "I was thinking that if you were interested in writing, we might be able to help each other out a little bit. You see, I'm writing a novel. I've been working on it for about three months now, and I could use some help. Decent typing, filing my notes, things like that. If you'd be willing to do that for me, then in return I'd be glad to spend some time teaching you the ropes. Actually, just the work you'd be doing for me would furnish you with a lot of pointers. What do you think?"
"Oh, well, that would be just wonderful, Mr. Wayne. Just wonderful." She hesitated. "Where would we do this work?"
"In my office here in this building. After classes. That is if you have nothing else to do then."
"Well, sometimes I'm in a play, when the drama club puts one on. But we just finished one, and there won't be another for a while. And anyway, this is more important "
"AH right. We'll start this afternoon. My office is number forty." He reached forward and gave her hand a little squeeze, just barely pressing it. He felt a shiver shoot up through her arm. Her hand was slender and soft and cool. The situation reminded him of that day back in high school when he'd sat next to Eva Wilson's desk.
Eva hadn't been kidding about wanting him to take the lead in their affair. She had run things so naturally up until that day Steve had assumed that she liked it that way But when she said that she wanted a man who would run things for her, she wasn't kidding. Apparently, from what he gathered, her previous affair had been like that. She had received a letter from her fianc' saying that he had met a girl in whatever country it was he was visiting, and he was going to marry her. That was when she decided to have an affair with someone else, and it had been just in time, judging from her passionate nature. Now she let him decide everything having to do with their relationship. When they would meet, what they would do, where they would go, were all decisions for him to make. At first the new role made Steve uncomfortable, but gradually he came to like the feeling of power and authority it gave him. He was really the boss here. This woman was really his woman. She did what he told her, and she gave him no back talk. He liked things so much that it was inevitable that he would eventually begin to dream of something completely impossible.
They were lying in bed one day, when he told her what he had decided.
"Marriage!" she said incredulously. She came up on one elbow and looked down at him. She looked as though he had just told her that he had signed up to go to Mars.
"That's right," he said, feeling a bit queasy at her reaction, but still confident of himself. He had become used to being obeyed by her.
"That's ridiculous," she said. She lay back on the bed again, and this time it was Steve's turn to come up. He looked down into her eyes and fought to keep the annoyance and nervousness from his voice.
"And just what the hell is so ridiculous about it?"
"Well, everything. I'm a lot older than you, for one thing."
"Only eight years."
"It's enough to make us look like a couple of idiots, Steve. Look, why do you want to talk about something like that? We don't have to get married. What could we do married that we can't do right now, or that we aren't doing, for that matter?"
"We can't live together, that's what. We can't have the same address. I can't take you places, and introduce you as Mrs. Wayne. That's what we can't do."
"And we never will, so forget it." She started to rise. Steve grasped her arm in a hard grip, making her wince and threw her back down on the bed.
"What the hell is this?" he demanded. "I'm good enough to come here and go to bed with you, like some kind of a male whore, but I'm not good enough to marry you. Is that it?"
"Steve, please. That hurts."
"Answer me. Is that it? I'm just good enough to screw you, huh?"
She turned white with sudden rage and pulled her arm free of his grip. There were red marks on it where his fingers had dug into her skin. Before Steve could react, she was out of the bed and padding across to the chair where her robe was.
"I don't have to listen to that kind of language. Not from a snot-nosed kid who didn't even know where to put it until I taught him."
He caught her halfway to the chair. He twisted her around roughly and threw her against the wall. The anger in her expression gave way to fear. Steve closed in on her, cornered her. He was so close to her he could feel the body heat emanating from her.
"Don't you say that," he said, and his voice was low-pitched and tight. "Don't you ever say that. I'm just as grown-up as anyone else. There's more to a man than knowing how to screw. Just because you've been under more men than shower heads doesn't mean that's the way everybody has to be. Now I want an answer. You say it's ridiculous to think of marrying me. I want to know why. Why is it so ridiculous?"
"Well, it just-"
"You said that before. It's still not good enough." She looked up at him for a moment, and her eyes glistened.
"All right. Let's just say that I'm a very conservative, stuffy kind of a person. Don't laugh. That's just what I am. I like to screw, yes. In fact, I like it too much. I can't do without it. It drives me crazy. I need a man every once in a while. But underneath it all, I'm still a scared, conventional person. I don't want to be a martyr to our great love, or whatever it is you envision. I don't want to lose my job and my position in society, a position I've built up slowly and laboriously. And that's what would happen if I married you.
She looked at him a moment in silence, then eased by him and went to the chair and put on her robe.
"And then there's another point," she said, tying the sash. She tied it loosely, and when she stepped to the vanity to pick up a cigarette, Steve caught a flash of her pussy. He felt his prick stiffen a bit. "How would you support me?" She smiled ironically. "That's right. You hadn't thought about that, had you?"
"Sure I had. I thought you could go on teaching until I got out of school. Then I could support you."
"It wouldn't be that easy. School districts take a dim view of teachers who marry seventeen-year-old students."
"Eighteen next week."
"I'd lose my job, and maybe my credential. Then what?"
"Well, I could quit school and get a job."
"At seventeen? Pardon, eighteen. What would an eighteen-year-old high school dropout do for a living."
"I could find something."
"Oh, talk sense, Steve! The payments on this house run a hundred and ten dollars a month. My car costs seventy-five fifty-two. Then there are my charge accounts, insurance, light, gas, not to mention groceries, of course. It's all I can manage to keep up with it, and I'm a duly accredited teacher with a Master's degree in English. What would you do? Get a paper route?"
"All right, you'd have to do without a lot of those things. You'd have to live a lot more simply than you do now. At least for a while."
Eva stood looking at him for a moment, and gradually her mouth curled up into a smile.
"I'm the only woman you've ever taken to bed, aren't I, Steve?"
"You know you are."
"All right, I'll tell you what. You go out with another girl for a while. Ask Sally Dennis for a date. She's goony you. I've seen her in class, mooning over you like a sick cow. Actually, I've been a little jealous about it. And it hasn't helped her grades any. Ask her for a date. Take her out and screw her."
"Screw her!"
"Then if you still want me to, I'll marry you. I mean it. I promise. But you'll have to do this one thing for me first."
"But, you talk as though it were something really simple, for Christ's sake. Screw her. Just like that. What if she doesn't want to be screwed. Ever think of that?"
"Well, you try Steve. You try really hard."
She stubbed out her cigarette in an ashtray and started for the bathroom. Steve caught her arm, gently this time, and pulled her to him. He inserted his hand under the robe and it fell open. He stroked her body softly, running his hands over her breasts and her ass, and he could feel her body quickening with pleasure and excitement. He kissed her, pressing his tongue into her mouth and slipping it over her own, and her arms came up and locked about his neck, pulling his head tightly against hers.
Steve disentangled her arms and pushed the robe back off of her shoulders. It fell to the floor, revealing her nakedness. He picked her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. He laid her on it and came down beside her, his body partly covering hers. His hands were everywhere on her, her breasts, her belly, her thighs, her pussy, and she began to moan with the familiar sound she made when her body began to take control of the situation and she could no longer say no, even if she wanted to. It was the loveliest sound on earth, lovelier than any music.
Their bodies came together all over, mouth to mouth, belly to belly, thigh to thigh, and Eva's hands began to play over him as his hands played over her. He could feel their softness, their slender gentleness giving way to the need in her, the need that he had put there with his hands and his body.
His prick was so hard it was painful now, and it jutted down between her legs as he lay on her. Eva closed her thighs, pressing the soft flesh of them against it, and he grunted harshly with pleasure. Her breathing was quick and ragged, amplified in his ear, and he could feel the smoothness of her cheek, lubricated by a film of perspiration, against his.
Her groaning changed to words, pleading words, as she begged him to get into her, begged him in soft, shapeless words that ran quickly together, the familiar sound that he knew always excited him more even than the feel of her, and he felt the little convulsions in his abdomen that meant that he was going to cream all over everything if he didn't do it, and now.
He rose above her and inserted himself in her slit. He was slow about it, and she knocked his hands away and pulled the prick into her, and Steve called out with pleasure that was pain, and then he came down to her, pushing his swollen cock into her, and she screamed with pleasure and release as he began to pump and surge above her. Her hands grasped his waist shortly, and then slid quickly up to his chest. Her arms locked about him there, holding him tightly, pressing his chest against her breasts, flattening the heavy globes against her ribe cage.
Then it went off, the explosion of light and heat that filled him, and he cried out with the orgasm just as she screamed, their voices mingling in a coarse and obscene duet as they hit their climaxes together. His sperm flooded into her, and she cried out again, less intensely than before, but still enough to be heard a block away if it hadn't been for the closed windows and doors, the privacy of her home that sheltered them.
When it was past, he got the cigarettes and lighter from the vanity and lighted two smokes. He handed one to her and lay beside her, peacefully, his arm under her shoulders, her hair tickling his cheek.
"Still want me to screw Sally Dennis?"
"Don't be silly, Steve. I never did want you to screw anyone except me. Rut I'm still asking you to. In fact, I still insist on it."
3
IT WAS DURING HIS OFFICE HOURS, THAT TIME OF day when a college instructor is expected to remain in his office so that his students can discuss problems or projects with him, that Steve met Melinda Michaels. He was sitting with his feet on his desk,, reading through some papers, when a knock sounded at his door. He mumbled with annoyance, took his feet down and called out, "Come in."
The door opened and a woman came in. Steve looked at her and thought that here was someone else worth looking into. Or getting into.
She was about twenty-four or-five, he guessed, and startlingly beautiful. She had hair as black and shiny as a new hearse, and legs that looked as though they had been designed for a Playboy cover. She was about five-feet-four, and her skin was creamy and white, a startling contrast to the black hair and also to her eyes, which were just as dark. She had a finely chiseled face, like something found in an Egyptian tomb. The bone structure was prominent, yet delicate. She was really a beauty, and Steve rose, giving her his best smile. The woman came in without reacting to his friendliness. Her hands were in two large pockets in front of her skirt. It was a gray wool skirt, with a jacket to match. She wore a white blouse under the jacket, and with the jacket open her figure was plainly visible. It was phenomenal.
"Hello," she said, and her voice was nice in quality, but very business-like in tone. "I'm Mel Michaels."
"Mel?" Steve raised one eyebrow and smiled a bit quizzically.
"Melinda." Her voice was even more crisp than before.
"Well. Won't you sit down. Miss Michaels." Steve separated the name from the rest of the sentence to emphasize the formality of address. The girl's attitude rankled him. He didn't like smart-ass dames.
She flushed a little and sat in the chair facing Steve's desk. When she crossed her legs, he caught a glimpse of stocking tops and white flesh, and just a flash of panties. So she didn't even wear a panty girdle. Her shape, he thought, was really phenomenal. He eased himself back into his chair and smiled at her again.
"What can I do for you, Miss Michaels?"
"Nothing, really. I just came to introduce myself. I'm the assistance chairman of the English department."
"Well, then, I'd better be on my best behavior."
"I don't know whether Miss Wilson told you or not, but we really don't expect Dr. Russo to return to work. The operation is a serious one, and she's quite old. Shell probably retire. If she does, I rather imagine I'll replace her as department chairman. So I like to know all the teachers who are in the English department."
"Would you like to know this one better? I could take you to dinner some evening."
"I don't believe in fraternizing between teachers in the same school, Mr. Wayne. I think it's bad for the work atmosphere."
Steve felt his hackles rise. The little bitch really must think her shit doesn't stink, he thought.
"I see. Then you just came to introduce yourself. Is that right?"
"Quite right."
"Fine. You've done so." He rose, indicating that the visit was over. Melinda flushed angrily.
"Of course. I wouldn't want to keep you from your work. I'm sure it's all a brand new instructor can do to keep up." She turned and left, banging the door a little when she closed it. Steve smiled to himself. He had got to the little cunt. If he could make her that mad, there was a chance. Just a chance, maybe, that he would get to see how that skin looked farther down. Say, around her ass.
That night there was another knock on another door. He was in the bedroom, drying himself off after a shower, when he heard a rapid and prolonged banging on the front door of his cottage. He said, "Shit!" and put on his robe and went to the door.
Eva was there. She wore a dark blue dress that did a lot more for her figure than the suit she'd had on the day before when he talked to her in her office. It came to just above her knees, and he was glad to see that her legs were just as good as he remembered. Her face was puffed and tear-streaked. Steve stood aside and let her enter.
"Steve, I'm sorry," she said. "I'm really very sorry to bother you at this time of night. Especially when I wasn't very ... nice ... to you yesterday. But I'm just about to come apart at the seams." Her voice was near to breaking. "And I just had to see you. I had to see someone, and you're the only one I can come to."
Steve motioned her to the couch and walked to a book shelf over his desk. He took down what looked like two books but was really a kind of portable bar. He opened it, removed a decanter of Scotch and poured one of the four shot glasses full. He went to the couch and handed the drink to Eva. She hesitated a moment, then took it and tossed it down. He poured her another, and when she tried to refuse it he insisted. She drank that one too, and seemed to relax a bit. Steve put the shot glass on the desk and went and sat down next to her.
"Steve, something awful has happened. I could lose my job. Worse than that, I could go to jail."
"Well, suppose you calm down and tell me about it, Eva. And then I'll see what can be done about it."
"Someone was at my house about an hour and a half ago. I heard a knock at the door, and when I answered it there was no one there. But there was an envelope lying on the mat. So I opened it and-" She hesitated, not wanting to go on. "-there were some pictures in it."
"Pictures?"
She looked at him for a long time before doing anything else. She started to say something else, then reached into her purse and took out some photos. She thrust them at him without looking at either the photos or him. Steve took them and looked at the one on top. He almost dropped his teeth.
It was a black and white photo of two women, naked and on a bed. They were in a most remarkable position. One of the women was masturbating the other with her fingers. The one on the bottom was young and pretty, a student at the school, he guessed. The other was older and also pretty. Beautiful in fact.
It was Eva.
Steve shuffled through the rest of the photos. They were more of the same. Some of them were better. He took his time, looking at each of the photos for a long time. When he was quite finished, he handed them back to Eva.
"Was there anything else in the envelope?"
"Just a note. It told me to stay home tonight and wait for a phone call."
"I assume the call came, or you'd still be waiting."
"About an hour ago. It was a man's voice. I recognized it, too. He tried to disguise it, but I knew who it was a minute after he started to talk. We had a janitor here until about ten months ago. I had to fire him for drinking on the job."
"Well, I can understand that. You can't have someone setting a bad example for the students."
Eva's face seemed to crumple at his jibe. She looked down at her hands, resting in her lap.
"I'm sorry, Eva," he said. "I'm not one to judge. You know that. It's just that I didn't know you worked both sides of the street. I'm surprised. That's all."
"I didn't, until I met this girl. That's the truth, Steve. I swear it. She seduced me. I know she looks innocent, but she was a real Lez."
"I believe you, Eva. Now the only problem is to get other people to believe you if these photos fall into the wrong hands. What does this ex-janitor want?"
"He wants money, of course. More than I have. I told him I didn't have it, but he said that was my problem. He said to meet him behind the administration building tonight at ten o'clock with the cash or he'd turn the pictures over to Mrs. Lick."
"Mrs. Lick?"
"Thelma Lick, the owneii of the school. She's a real prude, Steve. If she got hold of those pictures I'd be out on my fanny in five minutes. And she'd probably call the police as well."
"Wouldn't that hurt the reputation of her school?"
"It would be a matter of principle with her. She's really a puritan. Steve, what am I going to do?"
Steve got up and walked across the room. He stopped at the opposite end and turned back to Eva.
"What did this guy sound like on the phone?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean did he sound drunk?"
"Well, yes, now that you mention it. I hadn't thought about it before. Why?"
"Only a drunk or a madman would make a demand like this. Where does he expect you to lay your hands on a large sum of cash at this time of night? And if he had any brains he wouldn't have you meet him behind the administration building. He'd make it somewhere off the campus." Steve walked back toward the couch, thinking. He stopped in the middle of the room. "Just what did he offer you in return for the money?"
"The photos, of course. And the negatives."
"Judging from the way he's doing things, I'd say he really plans to have them on him. He's stupid enough."
"I'm sure he will. He doesn't have the imagination to try to milk me for more money. To him it's just a matter of selling what he has that can hurt me. I know him that well."
"Fine. But are you sure he's in this thing alone?"
"My God, I never thought of that!"
"What about this girl in the photos with you? Could she be in on it? I can't see how he could have got these pictures without her help."
"From the angle I'd say they were taken from the window of a motel cabin we shared a few times. He could have taken them that way, if the drapes were apart far enough to shoot through. If he used a fast film. Anyway, the girl can't be in this with him."
"Why not?"
"Because she's dead. She slashed her wrists three months ago."
"Ouch."
"Yes. Now you see what I'm up against. If these pictures get out, everyone will think I was the cause of her suicide. But I wasn't, Steve, honest to God. She was queer before I ever met her. I was horny as hell. I've been careful since I got my job here. And besides, I guess I wondered what it would be like."
"Yes, I remember you always were an avid experimenter."
She grasped one of his hands tightly.
"Steve, can you help me? I won't forget it. I can help your career here. And you might want someone to help you out of a scrape some time."
Steve moved closer to her. She didn't back away from him. He put his arm around her shoulders and leaned forward. Her lips were warm and yielding under his, and her mouth tasted as sweet as he remembered it had. The last five years hadn't hurt her at all.
Her arms twined about his neck and tightened just a bit. Steve slipped his hand out of her grasp and slid his palm over her lap until it was below her skirt. He slipped his hand under the hem of the skirt and moved it upward again. Eva parted her knees, giving his hand room to slip between her thighs. The inside of her leg was as smooth and soft as a baby's skin. He slid his hand up beyond the tops of her stockings and stroked the smooth flesh there. He pried open a garter and then another, and one stocking shriveled and wrinkled. He loosed the other one too, and then slipped them down the length of her legs, both of them at once, with the palm of his hand. They fell in a puddle at her feet, and she kicked off her shoes and the stockings. Her thighs jiggled pleasantly with the movement.
Steve removed his hand from under her skirt and began working with her clothing, pushing her jacket off and going to work on the buttons at the back of her blouse. She made no move to help him, remembering that he liked to do these things for himself. He slipped the blouse forward off her shoulders and down her arms, delighting in the fine, fleshy feel of them. He tossed the garment to the floor, then slipped the straps of her bra off of her shoulders, kissing each shoulder lightly as he did so. He embraced her, held her close and worked open the clasp at the back of her bra. When it leapt free of her breasts and fell to her lap, Steve leaned forward and kissed the breasts, and lightly kissed their pink nipples. He could feel her tremble with passion. He stroked the breasts, cupping his hand over one of them at a time and moving his hands gently, possessively over the softness of the flesh. The nipples straightened in his hand, came awake under his touch.
While he was stroking her breasts he reached down with the other hand and opened the narrow belt at her waist. When it was loose he reached under it at her side and opened the snap at the top of her skirt. He worked the zipper down with some difficulty. It was awkward while she was sitting. When he had it open, he slid the skirt down off her waist and opened the top of her panty girdle. He slid the zipper down on that, too. She hoisted her ass free of the couch and Steve pushed both garments down at the same time, down past her hips. He saw her tangle of pubic hair, saw one fleshy cheek of her ass jiggle nicely. The skirt and girdle fell to the floor about her feet. She lifted her feet free of them, and she was naked.
They both lay on the narrow couch, his body over hers. Eva placed one foot on the floor, opening her thighs to him. Steve shrugged off his robe. The sash had come open long since. Eva ran her hands over his belly and down his abdomen to his prick, now hard and stiff for her. Steve grunted harshly with the sudden feeling and centered himself on her. The hands, those wonderful hands he had known so well, held his cock lightly, gently, and guided it into her cunt as he came down on her.
The rhythm of their movement was slow at first, slow and easy and relaxed. Steve felt the pleasure flood up into his belly and down into his thighs, and he felt the softness of her under him, yielding, luxuriously soft, and he heard his own breath and hers, mingling hotly, so close together were their mouths, ragged and quick and shallow, and he felt her hands tighten on his flesh, and then he knew it was coming, the big moment, and he grunted loudly with the approaching climax.
Eva cried out with an agony of pleasure, cried, "Oh, God. Oh ... oh, God, oh God, oh God!"
Steve's voice came out too, loud and harsh in his own ears, and he felt the pleasure plunge up through his body like the mercury of a thermometer, until his scalp tingled with it, and then the lights, the great lights, went off, and he really yelled out with it, and she cried out once more, and his seed boiled into her.
Then it was over.
He gave her a cigarette and lit one for himself and sat next to her with his hand resting easily on her thigh.
"God," she said, and her voice sounded less tight than he had heard it since coming to the school. "God, I needed that. As I say, I've been careful since I came here."
"You ought to line yourself up with something permanent," Steve said, and she looked into his eyes boldly.
"Maybe I will." The way she said it made his skin tingle. "But first I have to find out if I'm still going to have a job here. My only sex life may soon consist of letting the prison matron do it for an extra helping of dessert."
Steve laughed.
"Don't worry about that. I'll take care of this old ass-hole for you."
She looked really relieved.
"Oh, thank you, Steve. You have ho idea what a relief this is to me. How are you going to get rid of him?"
"You leave that up to me. I'll meet him tonight, and I promise you he won't bother you any more."
"You aren't going to do anything really rough, are you:
"I said don't worry. I'm not stupid, you know. I'll scare the shit out of him, get the photos, and that'll be the end of it. Now you go on home and get a good night's rest, baby. I'll have the photos tomorrow. I'll bring them to your office during my first free period. You don't have a thing to worry about. That's a promise."
When she was gone, Steve got dressed in a pair of black pants and a black sport shirt. He went to his dresser and took a snub-nosed .38 from the top drawer, checked it to be sure it was loaded and thrust it in his right hip pocket. Okay, janitor, ready or not, here I come.
The administration building was long and full of little niches and passageways. Steve got there about nine-thirty and stepped into one of the niches. He stood and waited for forty-five minutes, wondering, toward the last, whether the man had gotten cold feet.
But he finally showed up. He came shuffling along the back of the building, muttering to himself in a cracked and muddy voice. He had a pint bottle in his hand, and Steve could smell his breath before he could see his face. He stood stock still, feeling a pleasant tension in his belly, and waited for the man to come abreast of the doorway that hid him. Then he stepped out quickly, stopping directly in front of the little man, towering over him by a good eight inches.
The drunk stopped and looked at Steve uncomprehendingly, craning back his head to look up into his assailant's eyes.
"Wha-who are-"
"Friend of Miss Wilson. She sent me to deal with you."
"I ain't dealin' with nobody but Eva Wilson. Nobody." Steve shrugged and turned.
"Suit yourself. I'll tell Miss Wilson you didn't want the money unless you could get it directly from her."
"Wait!" the man called, and Steve turned back to him. He was scratching a stubbled cheek. "You got the dough with you?"
"That's what this is all about, isn't it?"
The wizened little man stood considering for a moment. Steve noticed that the bottle in his hand was nearly empty.
"Okay," he said finally. "Let's see it."
"Let's see the pictures. And the photos."
He pulled them part-way out of his picket, hesitated, then took them out and handed them over to Steve. Steve took them out of the envelope, looked them over carefully in the moonlight, and stuffed the envelope into his back pocket. He took out another and handed it to the janitor. The man tore it open quickly and shuffled through the bills inside.
"Hey, what the shit is this? There's only a hundred-"
Steve took the gun out of his pocket. He placed it right under the janitor's nose. It gleamed with a blueness in the moonlight. The little man looked cross-eyed at it.
"That's all you get, prick," Steve said, keeping his voice soft and ominous. "That and one other thing." He brought his knee up hard into the little guy's balls. The bottle crashed to the concrete walkway and cheap liquor spread over the ground. Steve caught the janitor's shirt front with his free hand. The other man's hands grasped his fingers feebly. Steve rammed him back against the building so hard he heard a thunk as his head hit the wall. The janitor cried out, finally catching his breath, and Steve brought the gun across in a vicious swiping motion that bared his cheek to the bone. The force of the blow spun the man's head around and rammed it back against the wall again, and Steve brought his left fist up into his belly with a grunt of effort. The janitor bent over double and began to vomit. Steve jumped back in time to keep from being splattered, waited until the janitor's stomach had emptied itself of cheap whisky, and stepped in and hit him on the chin once, then kicked him in the balls again. He had to hold the man in place for the kick, because he was almost unconscious and ready to fall to the ground.
Steve pulled him away from the wall by his shirt front and rammed him back against it again. The janitor cried out and opened his eyes. Steve put the gun in his face, the muzzle touching him between the eyes. The drunken man was suddenly very sober. He tried to look at the gun, then tried to look at Steve. But the black, crow-like shadow of the .38 blocked out his vision. Steve stood that way for a moment, letting the fear build up, and then he cocked the gun, very slowly. The sear made three distinct clicks as the hammer came back and locked. The janitor whimpered and tried to plead.
"Shut your damned mouth," Steve said quietly. "Listen to me. I'm going to give you a little advice, and if you have half the brains of a rabbit, you'll take it. First of all, don't ever bother Miss Wilson again. If you even give her a hint that you exist, I'll track you down, wherever you go, and next time I won't be so gentle. Secondly, I think you'd better use that hundred dollars, or the major part of it, to travel. Move away from here. Go find yourself a job across country somewhere. Bus tickets are cheap. I don't want to see that shitty face of yours again. If I do, or if Miss Wilson does, I'm going to have to blow your head off. Got that, rummy? You got that?" he repeated, when the man didn't answer him. He rammed him roughly back against the wall again as he said the words, and the little man grunted in fear and pain.
"Y-y-yes, sir," he said shakily.
Steve stepped back and let the man fall to his knees. He brought his foot forward into his belly, not as hard as he could, but hard enough to send him into a fit of dry heaves. When they were past, Steve said, "Pick up your money, old man. And get out of town tonight."
"How can I get out tonight? I have to get my stuff-"
"You told Miss Wilson to get the money tonight. How she would manage it didn't seem to concern you. I'm not concerned with whether you get your stuff or not. The bus station is less than a mile from here. Go straight there. I'll be watching you. Get on the earliest bus with a destination more than five hundred miles away. Buy a long ticket, with plenty of bus changes on it."
He kicked one of the man's thighs and spun on his heel and walked away. A good night's work, he thought. A good night's work. As he walked back to his cottage, the photos safe in his pocket, he looked at the large pale moon. It reminded him of the night he first took Sally Dennis on a date.
He hadn't wanted to do it. But Eva had insisted that he take the girl out and try to lay her. Steve wasn't too sure he could lay her. He thought of it as an incredible stroke of luck that he had been seduced by Eva. He hadn't discovered yet how devastatingly attractive he was to woman. He was afraid of them, all except Eva.
He called for Sally at her home and took her to a movie. In the darkened theatre he placed his hand on hers, expecting her to pull free of his grasp. Instead she turned her palm up under his and squeezed. When he looked at her she smiled and leaned against him. He could feel his cock stiffening. Her hair was against his cheek, and he could smell her perfume.
After the movie he took her to a coffee shop and treated her to a Coke and a hamburger. Then he got into the car with her and drove up into the hills that surrounded the town. They were very popular, he had heard, among young daters who had nowhere else to go.
"Where are we going?" she asked casually, and Steve's heart thumped so hard he thought she would hear it.
"Oh, I just thought we'd take a ride." He was amazed that his voice was as steady as it was. He waited for her to object, but she said nothing. She had scooted near him when he got into the car. Now she moved right next to him and placed a hand on his arm.
He chose a spot off the road, with a good view of the town's lights. The sky was strewn with stars, and there was a brilliant full moon. He stopped the car, set the brake and then, without giving himself time to chicken out, he turned and put his arm around Sally's shoulders and kissed her. She melted against him, and when his tongue slipped between her lips she seemed to grow even softer, more yielding in his arms. He was overwhelmed by the warmth of her, the sweetness, the fine smells of clean skin and hair and perfumed body.
He couldn't believe the response he was getting, and now he moved one hand to her lap. She squirmed a bit as though she hadn't expected to be touched there, and didn't quite know whether to put up with it. But she relaxed when he kissed her again, and he took advantage of her acquiescence to slip his hand under the hem of her skirt. She squirmed again and tried to pull away, but Steve tightened his grip on her shoulder and moved his mouth to her neck. That always got to Eva, and he supposed all women were more or less alike. The touch of his lips to her neck sent a shiver over Sally's body. She tightened her arms about his neck and moaned a little. Steve slipped his hand upward, surreptitiously, slowly, moving his mouth lightly, gently, tantalizingly over her face and neck, her throat, and then, pushing her sweater down a bit, her shoulder. Each new spot on her anatomy that he touched brought forth a fresh fit of shivering and another moan of pleasure.
He began unfastening her garters, still working on her face and neck with his mouth. She seemed not to notice at first, but then, when one of her stockings shriveled down her leg, she stiffened.
"No, Steve. Don't do that."
Steve's passions had risen now to the point where he hardly heard her plea. He quickly opened the garters holding her other stocking and then began to stroke her thighs. She pressed her legs tightly together to keep his hand from between them, but Steve pushed his hand down into the soft, warm flesh. Sally cried out with a mixture of pleasure and protest, and started to plead with him again.
"Steve, don't. Steve, please now. I mean it. Steve, I like you a lot, but don't-"
He covered her mouth with his, and she melted against him again. He moved his hand out from under her skirt and felt her relax more, apparently thinking that he had gone as far as he intended. Steve began to open the buttons of her sweater. He had a light touch, and three of them were open by the time she realized what he was doing. Steve slipped his hand into her bra and held the breast inside in his hand.
The effect was electrical. Her body arched suddenly, and her breathing came in short gasps. Steve pulled the breast free of the bra, and she trembled at the touch of cold air. Her nipple was stiff and erect. He freed the other tit the same way, and stroked it into life also. Meanwhile he didn't forget to keep the kisses up, moving his lips over Sally's face and throat and now her breasts as well. Her hands were against the front of his coat as though to shove him away, but they had ceased to work at it. They simply lay against him lightly. He pulled the straps of the loose hanging bra down her arms and the garment fell down as far as the position of her arms would allow. He pushed her gently down onto the seat and opened the zipper of her skirt. She was wearing a panty girdle under it, a light one, thin and frilly and white. He pulled the zipper down and inched the garment down past her hips. She squirmed a bit at first, then began to tremble violently with emotion. Steve pulled the panty girdle down the length of her legs and off. He tossed it to the floor of the car and looked down at her. She was naked except for one shoe that she hadn't lost and her stockings, which still clung like twin masses of cobweb to her feet.
She was a fine looking woman. Not as well-developed as Eva, but still fine looking. And he noted that her skin was nicer. Softer and smoother.
He stripped as quickly as he could in the confines of the front seat. Sally lay and watched him, and when he was naked, his prick as hard as a sword, she pulled away from him a little. He came down on her and began to stroke her body. But it had taken too long for him to undress. She had cooled off, and now she was more frightened than excited. She tried to squirm out from under him and he lay on her with all his weight, pinning her to the car seat. She squirmed and fought and cried. Steve moved up above her a bit and slapped her face, hard. He was in no mood now to take any shit from her.
"Goddamn it, settle down," he snarled, and she lay suddenly very still.
She cried out a little when he penetrated her, but she didn't try to fight him off any more. She was a virgin, and it was a little harder to get into her. But he ripped through the membrane and plunged his cock into her. He began his movement, quick and rhythmical. Sally lay and cried out with pain, and her body was still and unyielding. But it didn't matter. Steve felt the intense pleasure spread through him, the tingling sensation that heralded an approaching orgasm. His own body tightened with it, and he felt her go more tense than ever as his tempo picked up. He was dimly aware that she was crying. His mouth touched her cheek, and he tasted the salt of her tears.
Then it came, the completion, and he grunted loudly and felt his sperm flood into her, and then he went limp with the finished orgasm. Completed.
He sat up and listened to his own breathing return to normal. Sally cried for a while and then sat up beside him. She seemed embarrassed about her nakedness. She took her panty girdle and put it on, and then her bra. She picked up her skirt and climbed into it. She seemed stiff, and she moved as though she were in pain. She was still crying.
Steve dressed and started the car. They didn't say anything to each other until they were down out of the hills and almost back to town. She broke the silence, and what she said almost knocked him over.
"I'm sorry to be such a crybaby."
Steve didn't know what to say to that, so he concentrated on his driving. She seemed to grow more nervous, more frantic. with his silence.
"It's just that it was my first time. You know that it was my first time, don't you, Steve?"
"Of course." He said it as though seducing virgins were a regular part of his life. She slid across the seat and clung to his arm, as she had done earlier. Only now her touch seemed diffident.
"I never did it before, but with you ... well, I don't know. It didn't seem like ... well, I mean, I love you, Steve. Honest."
"Sure. I believe you, honey. You wouldn't have done it if you didn't love me. I know a nice girl when I see one." Steve was beginning to feel better, fie was flooded with elation. He had expected her to accuse him, to threaten to tell her parents; but instead she seemed to be afraid of losing status with him over what had happened between them.
"That's right," she said eagerly. "I wouldn't have done it if it hadn't been that I loved you."
Steve didn't answer her. He was enjoying himself. Let her sweat it out, he thought. Let her worry awhile.
"You'll call me, won't you?" she asked when he had pulled up in front of her house.
"Sure. Of course I'll call you."
"When?" She almost choked on the question, but she seemed unable to keep from asking it. "Tomorrow? I mean, well, I'll be home all day tomorrow, if you want to call me."
"Sure. I'll call you tomorrow. Sure thing. Look, honey, you don't mind if I don't walk you to the door, do you? I'm kinda tired out."
"Oh. Well, no. I don't mind. But-don't you want to kiss me good night?"
"Huh? Oh, sure. Come here." She slid across the seat again and he kissed her, deliberately and sexually, the kind of a kiss a man gives when he has paid for the right. She squirmed a little; then, when he broke off, she smiled at him uncertainly and left the car.
As he drove home Steve thought about Sally. Now that he'd busted her, it wouldn't all that bullshit to get into her again. In fact, she seemed ready to do just about anything to keep from displeasing him. He laughed aloud.
What in Christ's name had made him think it was hard to get into girls' pants? Shit, it was easy. There was nothing to it. He began to think of all the classy bitches in school he would screw now that he had discovered how easy it was to pry their thighs apart.
He didn't even think of Eva that night.
4
NINE O'CLOCK WEDNESDAY MORNING, STEVE went into Eva's office and told her secretary he wanted to see Miss Wilson. A moment later he was sitting across the desk from Eva. She was wearing the same lumpy wool suit in which she had hired him.
"Where are the photos?" she asked right away. Steve lit a cigarette and put the pack and his lighter away in his pants pocket and settled comfortably in the chair again. Eva's hands were clasped before her on the desk, and he could see veins in them from the strength of her grip.
"Where are the photos?" she repeated in a slightly shriller tone.
"In a safe place."
She looked at him blankly.
"What do you mean? You said you were going to bring them here."
"Yeah, well, I lie a lot." He kept his face impassive. He enjoyed the look of slow consternation that crept across Eva's face.
"Steve, what are you doing? You did get the pictures didn't you?"
"I told you. They're in a safe place. That janitor won't bother you any more." She looked a little relieved.
"Well, when will I get them?"
"Not for quite a while, Eva. Quite a while."
"Damn it, will you come to the point?"
Steve sat and looked at her for a long time, and finally she wavered and looked away.
"I'm sorry. Forgive me, please. I'm upset. Steve, believe me, I do appreciate what you've done for me. And just as soon as I get a chance, I intend to pay you back."
"Oh, you ll pay me back, Eva. You'll pay me back, all right." He leaned forward in his chair and smiled at her. "I told you that janitor wouldn't bother you any more, and he won't. But I will. That is, if you ever forget your place."
She went chalky.
"What are you talking about?"
"You forget, Eva. I have the photos now. And I'm not some dumb prick of a janitor. I know how to use those photos to make my life a lot easier and a lot more pleasant. From now on, you're taking orders from me. You're going to do just what I tell you, everything I tell you, anything I tell you. Because if you don't, you're going to jail for corrupting a minor. I won't hesitate to send those photos to the police, the owner of this school, and every newspaper in the county."
She looked at him open-mouthed, a slight smile trembling at the corners of her mouth, as though she weren't quite sure whether he was kidding. But the smile died before it was fully born. She looked at him in terror.
"Steve, what are you saying? You can't really mean-"
"Let's skip all that bullshit, Eva. You know damned well that I mean what I'm saying."
"But why? What have I done to you that you should treat me this way?"
"Not a thing, sweets. Not a goddamn thing. It's just that there are things I'd like to see done. And those that are within your power to do will be done from now on. Don't take it so hard, Eva. Remember once you told me that you liked arrangements in which the man tells you what to do and you do it? Well, you ought to be very happy right now, sweetheart, because that's the kind of arrangement we have, you and I. I tell you what to do, and you do it. No questions, no objections, no hesitation. You just do it."
"And if I don't, you'll send those photos to the people you mentioned?"
"How true."
She raised her chin and tried to look unconcerned.
"I don't believe it. There are laws against blackmail, Steve. If you dare to send those pictures to anyone, I'll reveal just what you're trying to do to me. So we have a standoff."
"What we have is not a standoff, Eva. Sure there are laws against blackmail. But you have to prove it. You know, the Supreme Court, and all that. Civil rights. Innocent until proved guilty. All that bullshit. But in your case, the proof will be right there. And even if you don't go to jail, you'll certainly be out of the education racket for all time to come."
"I don't care. I don't think you have the guts to do what you threaten."
He rose from his chair and smiled at her and turned and started toward the door. By the time he was halfway there, he began to think she was really going to go all the way with it, and he'd have to send the photos off, just to prove to her and to himself that he wasn't all bluff. That would have been a shame, of course, the kind of thing that would do neither of them any good. But just as his hand touched the knob, he heard a kind of strangled sound from her, and he heaved a mental sigh of relief.
"Stop," she said desperately. "Please. All right. All right, Steve, I believe you."
Steve turned back to her and looked straight at her until her eyes wavered and fell to the top of her desk. She had come to her feet, and she stood framed against the big window behind her desk, the light shining through wisps of her tightly drawn hair. Steve sat down again.
"Have a seat, Eva," he ordered casually, and she fell back into her chair.
"What do you want from me, Steve?" she asked dully. She looked older than she had a moment earlier. A little haggard. He reminded himself that she was only thirty-one years old, and that she usually looked just great.
"I don't really know what I want from you, Eva. Not all of it, that is. This is a kind of long range relationship you and I have now. I don't have to make any kind of deal with you whereby I give you back the photos in return for some little favor you do me. I intend to keep the photos, and that way I'll be sure you'll continue to do little favors for me. Whenever I say."
"You've made that point, Steve. But there must be something you have in mind for right now. Some initial orders you have for me."
"Well, as a matter-of-fact, there are, sweets. First of all, I learned the other day that the prof I'm replacing is chairman of the English department. If she doesn't come back, and people seem to be pretty sure that she won't, you'll have to appoint someone else to take over that chairmanship. I want it."
"It will cause a stink. Mel Michaels expects the appointment."
"Yes, it's a shame to disappoint her, isn't it?"
"She's the type who will scream bloody murder about it."
She can scream until she's hoarse, so far as I'm concerned. Anyway, that's your worry, darling, no mine. You just see that I'm the one who gets the appointment."
"Yes, master."
Steve laughed good-naturedly.
"Now you're getting the hang of it," he said. "I have another little order for you, Eva. From now on, you're my private stock. Understand? I'm hanging a padlock on your pussy. And a sign that say 'Private property.' From this moment forward, whenever I want to screw you, I'll just crook my finger and you'll spread your legs. Got that?"
"You're going too far, Steve."
"Am I? Well, then I'll just have to pay the consequences, won't I? In the meantime, though, I think you'd better be
Johnny-on-the-spot when I want you. And don't get me wrong, Eva. I don't mean that I can screw you whenever I want to within reason. I mean that if I should wake up with the itch at three o'clock in the morning and pick up the phone and call you, you'd better get your ass over to my cottage just as fast as you can go."
"You enjoy this, don't you? Hurting people?"
"Sure. You taught me all about a man being the boss and all that. But there's really only one way for a guy to make sure he's really the boss, and that's to make someone do something she doesn't really want to do. From time to time I may just do that, sweetie. I may tell you to do something that's very inconvenient for you and doesn't make any difference to me. Just to show you that I'm still in charge."
"You know something, Steve?"
"What's that?"
"You're a swine."
Steve laughed. He rose from his chair and walked to where Eva sat behind her desk, still laughing as he went. She sat and looked up at him complacently, as though wondering idly just what he had in mind and what he was laughing at. When he reached her, he grabbed the front of her jacket and pulled her to her feet, and slapped her face four times, palm, backhand, palm, backhand. She let out a little screech at the first flap, then stifled her cries to keep her secretary from hearing them. When he was finished slapping her, Steve spun her around and shoved her away. She tripped in the thick carpet, and as she started to fall, he kicked her hard in the ass. As hard as he could at the awkward angle. She let out a little cry and hit the floor and lay there crying.
"Now, that was lesson number one, cunt. You don't say nasty things to me. To me you are just as sweet as pie, no matter how you feel. You are all sweetness and light to me from now on. You can think I'm whatever you like to think
I am, but you just don't put it into words. Not ever." He looked down at her for a moment, then smiled to himself. She looked good down there. He had waited five years for this moment, and he had never really thought that there was much chance of it coming. Rut now she was all his. She would never laugh at him again. She would never pat him on the head and tell him that anything he wanted was just impossible again. And to think he had wanted to marry her. Ridiculous.
"Just one thing more," he said from the door. "I'm busy tonight, as it happens, but tomorrow night I want you to be at my cottage at eight o'clock. No, make it seven. We might as well get an early start. And don't be late. Or I'll really get rough with you."
He winked at the secretary on his way out, and whistled to himself as he walked down the hall.
Three weeks later the school received a written resignation from Dr. Russo. The next day Steve's appointment was announced. Mel Michaels showed up at his cottage that night. He grinned and held the door wide for her.
"I don't know what kind of game you're playing, Wayne," she said in a carefully controlled voice, her black eyes flashing, "and I don't care. But I'm telling you right now that I don't intend to put up with this."
"Put up with what, Miss Michaels?"
"You know damned well what I'm talking about!"
"Tish, tish, Miss Michaels. Such language."
"How did you do it?"
"Do what?"
"Get the appointment!" she shrieked. "Everyone knew that appointment was mine. Everyone. What did you do to get it away from me?"
"I haven't the least idea of what you're talking about, Miss Michaels. I didn't do anything. Miss Wilson called me in yesterday and told me that she'd reviewed the qualifications of everyone in the English department and decided that I was the best one for the job, in view of my grades in college."
"I don't believe you. My grades in college were quite good."
"Yes, well, mine were better than quite good. I graduated magna cum laude."
"She's not going to get away with this. And neither are you. You'll see. I'll get back at you, you bastard!"
Steve walked to his desk and picked up an unsealed envelope. He gave it to her.
"It's really just as well you came by tonight Miss Michaels. It will save me the trouble of having to put this in your mailbox tomorrow morning."
She looked at the envelope charily.
"What is it?"
"Notice to you that I'm replacing you as my assistant chairman. I really think I should have someone who gets along better with me."
She looked up at him, her face white.
"Wait a minute, you can't do that."
"Oh? I must have misunderstood. I thought Miss Wilson told me that assistant chairmen are appointed by chairmen in this institution."
"Well, yes, but no one ever fires an assistant. It just isn't done. At least you can give me a chance to resign the job. That's the least you can do."
"Go to hell."
She looked at him in dumb shock.
"What? I don't understand. Why are you going after me like this?"
"Don't get innocent and hurt with me. You're the one who started this little tussle. You came barging into my office like gangbusters when I'd only been here a day to tell me that you were the assistant chairman of the department and that you were going to be the chairman some day soon and I'd better mind my P's and Q's. That was when I decided to go after this job, sweetie. Well, now I have it, and you are going to have every bonehead English class, every freshman comp class, every Z level lit class I can foist off on n you.
"You can't get away with that!"
"I wouldn't go predicting things if I were you, honey. Your last prediction was that you were going to be the next department chairman. Remember?"
She held herself rigidly for a long time, obviously fighting to maintain her composure, to keep from going into a screaming jag. Her temper was obviously fierce. But it hadn't got her a thing yet except trouble, and she didn't want it to get the upper hand again.
"Look," she said finally. "I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression that day. I really am. I'm just a little tense lately. Overwork. I didn't mean to put you down or anything. If I gave that impression, I'm sorry."
"And this little tirade tonight?"
"I was upset. You can understand that, can't you? I mean, I fully expected to get that appointment, and when I didn't, it just hit me pretty hard. Maybe ... maybe Miss Wilson is right. Maybe you're better equipped for the job." It must have cost her dearly to say that, Steve thought with amusement.
"All right," he said. "I accept your apology." He said it with as much self-satisfaction as he could manage. She hid her irritation well, he thought.
"Thank you." There was just the least bit of tremor in her voice.
"Have a drink with me," Steve said, moving toward the bookcase where his little portable bar was stashed.
"No, I..." she caught herself. "Well, all right. Just one.
He took out the decanter and two shot glasses and filled the glasses and handed her one. She looked at it wryly. No doubt she had expected a mixed drink of some sort. But she touched glasses with him and tossed the drink off with a shudder.
"Have another," Steve said.
"No, thank you, I really-"
"Have another," he repeated, and filled her glass. She looked at him, gazing up into his eyes for a good five seconds. Steve had had enough experience with women to read the expression in her eyes. She knew, now, that he was planning to seduce her tonight. And unless he misread her, she had decided that he was going to succeed. Steve felt his cock stir, and his heart accelerated a bit.
"Have a seat," he said. "There's no hurry."
"All right." She was wearing a suit, and now she removed the jacket and tossed it on the couch. She sat next to it and kicked off her shoes and pulled her feet up beside her. Steve brought the decanter and glasses with him as he sat next to her. He started to pour another drink for them.
"I don't need any more," she said quietly. Steve held his hand steady as he put the decanter down on the coffee table.
When he turned to her, she came against him, warm and soft and yielding. Her hair was drawn tightly behind her head, and he made it his business to release it. It flowed gloriously down around her shoulders, a cascade of blackness that shone in the lamplight, and dramatically framed her finely chiseled, white face.
He placed his mouth on hers, and their tongues came together in her mouth with a kind of electricity that shot through both their bodies. Steve ran his hand under her skirt and up her thigh, stroking the soft skin above the nylon hose, feeling his prick come to attention at the feel of it. He pried open her garters and pushed her stockings down. They collapsed into twin puddles around her feet. Her skirt was hiked up almost to her crotch now, and when he glanced down he could see the lace trim of her panties. It surprised him that she wore panties with lace on them.
His fingers worked busily and skillfully at the buttons in back of her blouse. They surrendered to him one at a time, and then the blouse slid forward, giving way to her breasts that thrust against it with such force. She dropped her arms to her sides and waited compliantly while he slipped the blouse down off of her and tossed it to the floor.
The zipper of her skirt was a little more difficult, and she finally had to hoist her ass off of the couch to allow him to get it down. It opened with a rasping sound. He pulled the button at the top open too, and she hoisted herself again while he pulled the skirt down past her hips and let it fall about her feet.
She rose then, and took off her slip, pulling it off over her head and tossing it aside. She had a magnificent body, a waist as narrow as a wine glass stem, hips that flowed outward generously, and legs that simply wouldn't quit. Her breasts were still covered, but unless she was wearing a lot of padding, they would be well worth uncovering.
She came down to the couch again, and they kissed. He circled her with his arms and began to open the snaps of her bra. They came open easily, and the bra sprung open, thrust there by her breasts. When he moved away from her, the garment slipped away and fell into her lap. She flicked it away and smiled at him with pride. She had a right to be proud, he thought. Her tits were as good as any he had ever seen. They were large and perfectly formed, with rosy pink nipples. They stood away from her, firm and strong, needing no artificial support, and he realized that she was one of those rare women who wear a bra not to improve the line of their busts, but only to keep their nipples from showing through their blouses.
He cupped one of the breasts in his hand, and she caught her breath sharply. Her eyes were growing heavy-lidded. Steve stroked the breast, running his thumb over the nipple, and the pinkness came alive, standing erect as gooseflesh rose over her body. He moved against her again, and felt the firmness of her breasts against him again, but this time with just the right amount of yield, of softness, of life. He could feel her tremble in his hands. He wondered whether she was the most passionate woman he had ever met, or simply the horniest.
Steve's hand slipped down the length of her body, and his fingers slipped into the top of her panties. He ran them around there, feeling the beginnings of pubic hair, and she groaned and writhed a little. She hoisted her ass quickly and he slipped the panties down past her hips. They, too fell to the floor, and she was completely naked.
He stood and began to undress himself. He did it quickly, but paused occasionally to enjoy the sight of her superb nakedness. She sat curled up on the couch looking back at him, waiting for him to come to her again.
But when he was naked as she, he beckoned to her. She came up off the couch without hesitation and he took her hand in his and led her into the bedroom.
She lay down and raised her arms to him. He came down beside her and their bodies came together. The softness of her, the warmth, the incredible sweetness of her body was enough to drive a man mad. He stroked and petted her, running his hands over from her face to her pussy and down to her thighs, and then moved upward again. His prick was ready to explode with tightness, and she was moaning more and more loudly. Her body was beginning to pitch with passion, moving to anticipate his penetration, to be where his hands and mouth were, and he tasted her breasts again and again, savoring the sweet, clean youth of them, feeling the nipples grow harder under his tongue as tremors swept through her superb body.
Then, when neither of them could stand it another moment, he rose above her and she spread her legs and positioned her hands to accept him, and guided his cock into her surely, expertly.
The pleasure leapt through him as he began to move, thrusting and receding, pumping and surging, and she howled with a delight that was almost pain. Their bodies matched rhythms, moving together like matched parts in some finely tuned machine. He could feel her breath, hot and humid, on his cheek, could feel the thrusting, straining wildness of her beneath his body. He could feel the pounding of his pulse and the pressure in his skull; and most of all he could feel the pleasure that flowed through his body, driving all other sensations before it, rising in intensity and pitch until he cried out with it, and Mel answered, her voice riding the scale from a moan to a shriek as his sperm boiled into her and their bodies hit a crazy crescendo of motion and pleasure.
Then it was over, and they lay side by side.
"Christ," he said, stroking her thigh lightly, "I didn't expect you to be so great. I thought you were a tight-snatch little virgin, the way you acted."
She laughed throatily.
"Hardly, darling. I'm a reformed hooker, and they're harder to get into than any virgin."
Steve rose on one elbow and looked down into her face. "Are you kiddin'? "
"Scout's honor. Worked my way through college that way. But when I became a teacher, I decided to be a nice girl and maintain a lily white reputation. I thought it would be easy. Men had always paid me for my ass. I couldn't see that I would miss anything. I damn soon found out differently. Screwing is like air. It only seems important when you don't have it."
Steve laughed and lay down again and turned toward her.
"I haven't been laid in three years," she said. "And believe me it wasn't easy."
He began to stroke her breasts again, and her hands moved to his cock. The doorbell rang.
They both stiffened and listened, as though wondering whether the sound had been real.
"Oh, shit!" Steve breathed. "I forgot."
"Forgot! You mean you knew you had company coming?"
"It's kind of hard to keep one's mind on social engagements when one is getting ready to screw. Get your clothes and take them into the kitchen. When you're dressed, go out the back door."
When she was safely ensconced in the kitchen he looked around the room to be sure there was nothing to give away her recent presence. He picked up the shot glasses and put them in the sink. The doorbell rang. He stashed the decanter in its container and stuck it away in the bookcase. The doorbell rang again, a little longer this time. He had thrown on a robe before leaving the bedroom, and now he adjusted it and padded over to the door.
"Hello, Jenny. Come on in."
She stood framed in the doorway and looked at him.
"Don't mind my attire," he said. "I was just about to take a shower. I forgot how late it was getting to be. Sorry."
"Mr. Wayne, are you sure we should be doing this? I mean-"
"Please," he said, letting just the right amount of impatience creep into his voice. She entered reluctantly. She was wearing a mini-skirt and sweater and low heeled shoes with rolled stockings. The skirt and sweater were red. The shoes and stockings were white. She smelled of soap and shampoo as she walked past him.
"I'm sorry I had to ask you to come over here tonight, Jenny, but I simply couldn't help it. I want to get the work out, and there were things I had to do earlier. I hope you understand."
"Of course, sir."
"Get yourself a Coke. I'm going to grab that shower now.
He ran the shower water hot and shrugged off the robe and stepped into the tub.
He and Jenny had been meeting at least three nights a week in his office to work on his "novel". Of course he hadn't the least intention of writing any novel, but she was convinced that he was another Hemingway. He knew she had a crush on him. He had worked to that end very earnestly, being just as charming and masculine in her presence as he could be. And last night, after praising her work he had leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. He hadn't made a big thing of it, and had kept it a casual act, as thought he had done it without thinking, out of simple affection. From the corner he saw her blush with sudden embarrassment, and also with sudden pleasure. She stammered a little for the next few sentences.
He got out of the shower and began rubbing himself briskly with a towel. He felt great. A piece of ass always does it, he thought. He could feel his strength renewed already. He was ready for little Jenny Read. Primed and ready.
She was sitting on the couch when he came back in. Her skirt was very short, even when she stood, as they all were these days. Sitting, it almost revealed her panties. Jenny had nice legs. Round and tapered, smooth and soft, the flesh on them jiggled as she moved. She was reading a magazine while she waited. A Coke stood on a coaster on the coffee table.
Steve had put on a pair of slacks and a short sleeved white shirt. He had deceided not to wear a T-shirt under the white shirt because he knew that the sight of his bare chest, showing through a shirt buttoned halfway up, was something that appealed to women. He had learned to use every method to get what he wanted from women.
He sat very close to her on the couch and spread out some papers, notes on the novel he was supposed to be constructing. They were so close together their thighs touched, and Jenny had to pull hers away to avoid the contact. She had settled down at the extreme end of the couch, with her right hip against the arm rest. She couldn't move away from him. About the only way she could do anything about their proximity would be to ask him to move, and he was sure she would be too embarrassed to do that. Eventually her leg grew tired from the constant effort of holding it away from his, and she relaxed it. It lay warmly against Steve's.
He talked to her, outlining some changes he had dreamed up for the plot. He leaned forward often, picking something up off the coffee table or putting something back, and then leaning back again, and the constant motion of his body, the rubbing against her, was taking effect on Jenny. He could hear a quickening of her breathing. A slight film of perspiration was forming on her forehead and her upper lip. They were so close together that she couldn't even move her left arm without touching Steve. She apologized several times for it, rather pointedly, as though she were hoping he would take the hint and move away from her. Steve ignored the apologies, acting as though he hadn't heard them and going on about the novel.
By the time an hour was over, she was almost in tears from the emotional conflict in her. The conflict between the emotions she was feeling and her upbringing was tearing at her, and Steve enjoyed it.
He pretended to notice the time on her watch. He picked up her wrist casually and looked at the instrument. He could see the gooseflesh raise on her arm at his touch.
"I think we ought to take a little break," he said. He went to the bookcase, removed the little bar and took out the decanter and the two remaining clean glasses. With his back to Jenny he filled the glasses, then returned and held one out to her.
"Oh, no," she said. "I mean ... well ... I don't drink, Mr. Wayne. I'm under age."
"Hell, you're eighteen, aren't you?"
"Well, yes sir, but-"
"Then you're old enough. Go on. Take it. It'll relax you. I've noticed this evening that you seem pretty nervous.
She took the drink gingerly and he sat next to her again, just as close as before. He held up his drink and they touched glasses.
"To the fruit of our joint effort," he said. He tossed off the drink, and Jenny, with one final moment of hesitation, raised the shot glass to her lips and drank the whisky down in one gulp.
She shuddered violently and tears came to her eyes. "That your first drink?" Steve asked. "Yes sir."
"You get to like it," he said, and refilled her glass before she could refuse. He filled his own, too, but not quite as full as hers. They drank again.
"Beginning to feel more relaxed?"
"Why, yes," she said wonderingly. "It's like sunshine inside of you, isn't it?"
"Something like that. I'm surprised a mature, sophisticated girl like you hasn't had a drink before."
"Oh, I'm not sophisticated, Mr. Wayne. I wish I were. Sophisticated people have so much more fun than others, because they're not afraid to do what they want to do."
"Then just stop being afraid. It's that simple. We live in a very permissive society, Jenny. No one is going to hurt you for doing what you want. As long as you don't want to do something violently antisocial."
"Oh no, nothing like that."
"Then the next time you feel like doing something, just do it."
She looked at him with a kind of little girl attempt at coquettisliness, then leaned forward and kissed him quickly on the cheek. She giggled a little, embarrassed at what he and the whisky had talked her into doing.
"That wasn't what you wanted to do," he said, putting his shot glass on the coffee table.
"Yes it was."
"No it wasn't. What you wanted to do was this." He gathered her in his arms and brought her close to him. For a moment she was too surprised to offer any resistance. Then she pushed against his chest ineffectually, obviously not wanting to win the struggle. Steve leaned forward, and her head tilted back and her lips parted for him.
Her kiss was sweet, warm and clean. She felt superb in his arms, and after a moment the pressure of her hands against his chest entirely disappeared, and then her arms were around his neck, holding them close together, clinging desperately to him, as though she couldn't get enough. Steve congratulated himself on groundwork well laid. Barring some interruption, she was his now. With skill and care he could get her into the sack without a hint of trouble.
He moved his hands up and down her back, rubbing her there through the thin sweater she wore, and then he lifted the sweater and ran his hands over the smooth hotness of her skin. Her arms tightened about him, and he moved his hands over a wider area of her body, working them around to the front, moving his thumbs over her belly. When she didn't pull back, he knew he wasn't going too fast. She was a passionate girl, and he had her whipped up better than he had thought. He laid one hand on her leg and ran it up her thigh. The skin of her legs was smooth as a baby's ass, and he ran his hand all the way up and inserted fingers inside the panties she wore. She squirmed and moaned a bit, and in a sudden little panic tried to push him away. Steve kissed her again, more ardently than before, and she stopped the struggling. He pushed her back gently until she was lying on the couch, her feet still on the floor.
Steve worked his hand up to the top of the panties and pulled them down, working them, one side at a time. When they were low enough he began to work her pussy with his hand. Petting and cupping and rubbing it, he worked his finger in between her labia. She cried out and arched her back with the sudden, unexpected pleasure. As her ass lifted clear of the couch, Steve pulled the panties down to her knees and let them drop. Her skirt, brief as it was, had hiked up now to reveal everything she had. Jenny squirmed with passion, and he knew he had won. There was really no turning back now.
He pulled her sweater up over her head and tossed it aside. The bra came off quickly, and she gasped as the coolness of air touched her breasts. Her breasts weren't as well developed as Mel's, of course, but he hadn't expected them to be. In a way, their comparative smallness made them even more attractive to him. He had always liked them young, he realized. Whatever it was about the young ones he didn't know, but they turned him on.
He unzipped the tiny skirt and pulled it off of her. She was naked now, except for her shoes and sock. He picked her up and carried her into the bedroom. He laid her down on the bed and pulled off the shoes and socks, and then dropped his slacks to the floor together with his shorts. He pulled the shirt open and shrugged it off, too. He wasn't as horny as he'd been with Mel, of course, but that was all right. He knew he'd be able to perform admirably, and in a way it was better not to be too horny. It was like coming to a meal too hungry to enjoy it properly.
He lay down next to her, and her hands grasped him hungrily. She pulled him to her frantically, and he moved his hands over her breasts. They were really very nice breasts, larger than average for a girl of her size, even if not as large as Mel's. He kissed them and tasted them, and stroked them, and brought her to a fever-pitch of desire.
Her nipples stood up straight and proud, and he moved a finger over them lightly, tickling them into even more awareness.
Jenny writhed and squirmed with pleasure, and moaned and cried his name and "Please ... please." He could no longer tell whether she was begging him to stop, or to go ahead and screw her. Probably neither. She probably didn't have any idea of what she was saying. She was that gone, that pumped up.
Steve placed a knee between her legs and moved them apart. He could feel the bristliness of her pussy against his thigh. He moved the leg downward and centered himself on her tiny body. Her legs opened wide for him, as though by instinct, on their own. He took his cock in his hand and centered it on her cunt, then came down onto her and into her.
She was tight and unused, and she screamed bloody murder when he penetrated her and ripped her cherry away. But then, suddenly, she was moving with him, the pleasure that was in him apparently moving through her as strongly. She cried out with joy, her arms clamping about his neck, holding him to her tightly, their heads against each other. She was still writhing, shaking and kicking all at once. Her legs moved like two great snakes, kicking in fits and starts as she tried to work off the power of the sensations that were sweeping over her.
Steve felt the pleasure in him rising to a crescendo, peaking, and then he knew that he couldn't hold back much longer. His sperm spilled into her, and she cried out in unison with his own grunt of completion.
Then it was over. He lay next to her and stroked her belly, her thighs, her pussy. After a while he realized that she was crying. The sound made him impatient. They all thought it was the end of the goddamned world, he thought, when they lost the olive. Shit, virginity had to go sometime.
He caught himself before he gave voice to his annoyance. He could get in trouble if this girl became unhappy enough to want to make trouble for him, or just to relieve her own conscience through confession.
He took her in his arms and petted her and kissed her and said soothing things. She was ashamed of what she had done, of the way she had let her body get the upper hand, and she was afraid he would think less of her. He assured her that he only thought more of her. She said she loved him, which he had expected, of course, and he said the same to her to satisfy her, and perhaps to get her to come back for more. You can never tell about that, he thought. And now that the groundwork was laid it would be a shame to kiss her good-bye. Only they'd have to be damn careful. He wondered whether she knew anything about contraception. He hated to use a rubber.
After a while she was quieter, and then she even managed a weak laugh.
"What's so funny?" he asked, relieved that the moment of remorse was past.
"I was just thinking of what my father would do if he knew about this. He'd have a fit. He thinks I'm something special that no one has one of. I'm the best, just because I'm his."
"Well, you certainly aren't bad."
"Thank you, darling." She traced a path on his shoulder with her finger. "But he'd be furious if he knew I was no longer a virgin." She seemed to say it with a touch of pride, and he knew she had really got past the worst moment. From now on it would be easy to keep her on an even keel. "It's funny, really. Here we can run all those companies and make a board of directors do what he wants, and he can't keep his daughter from flopping into the sack with her English teacher."
"Board of directors?" Steve rose up over her and looked down at her face. "Hey, wait a minute. Is your father Elton
Read?"
"That's right. Didn't you know? I thought everyone knew about me. Everyone here at the school, that is." He flopped back onto the bed. "Holy Christ."
"It doesn't make any difference in the way you feel about me, does ili"
"Huh? Oh, no. No, of course not. Why should it? I have nothing against multi-millionaires. I just wouldn't like to have him decide to squash me like a bug, that's all."
"Hell never find out about us, darling. I promise you that. I'll never tell him."
But to Steve, another idea was already forming. He was pretty sure that her father would find out about them, all right. But not until Steve was ready for the occasion.
5
THERE WAS A RESTAURANT NEAR THE SCHOOL, and it had a bar annex. Steve went there Friday night for a few drinks. Later he planned to have Eva over for a night of pronging.
He went to the place right after school. He sat in a booth and ordered a Scotch on the rocks.
He had been there a quarter of an hour when a man sat down opposite him. Steve looked up in annoyance. The man was medium height, with brown hair and a cheap suit that needed pressing. He could have been thirty-five or fifty-five.
"Mr. Wayne?" he asked, and Steve tried to remember if he had seen the man before somewhere. "Yes," he said slowly.
"You don't know me, if that's what you're wonderin'. Mr. Wayne. My name ain't important. Just call me Tim."
"What can I do for you, Tim?"
"Maybe we can do something for each other." He paused, as thought waiting for Steve to say something. Steve looked at him. "I've heard you mentioned as quite a ladies' man."
"Have you?"
"That's right. And from what I've heard, you ain't exactly kind to 'em."
"You believe everything you hear?"
"When it comes from reliable sources. Now don't get all torqued out of shape, Mr. Wayne. I got no great big affection for women myself. Way I look at it, they're worth just what fun they can give a guy. And that's all."
"Well, maybe I go along with you on that," Steve said noncommittally.
"I work for a kind of hirin' agency. We use a lot of female help. We're international. Send the girls we handle out of the country. We pay a very large brokerage fee for anyone who steers us to some talent we can handle." I see.
"Now, place you work, you just might be able to get us something real nice, Mr. Wayne."
"I'd like to get one thing straight. Suppose the girl you want to hire doesn't want to work for you?"
"We convince her."
"I don't think I'd be interested. You see, if any girls from the school should disappear, Tim, there would be some kind of investigation."
"It wouldn't uncover anything, Mr. Wayne. We're very thorough. And like I say, we pay a good brokerage fee. There's a big demand for young girls, especially when they're beautiful and brought up well. Our customers like that kind."
"I still don't think I'd be interested."
Tim shrugged. He took a piece of paper out of his coat pocket and handed it to Steve. There was a phone number on it, and over the number the name 'Tim" was written.
"Case you change your mind-" I won t.
"Well, just in case you do, you can call me at this number. Any time. If I'm not there, someone ll tell you when I'll be back, or I'll be glad to call you back. We're very considerate of our business associates."
He rose, looked down at Steve for a moment, then turned and walked away.
Steve looked down at the scrap of paper on the table. He picked it up, looked at the phone number. He almost threw it in the ash tray, then thought better of it. He didn't want anyone finding it there in the booth right after he left it. No sense taking a chance, no matter how slim. He put the paper in his coat pocket and tossed off his drink.
On the way back to the school he stopped and looked into the lake. It was a really big one, right across from the school grounds. He had been told that some of the girls used to go there to swim until a couple of them were drowned. It was a deep body of water, that lake. No one seemed to know just how deep it was. The only thing they knew for sure was that the ground under it was very rough and uneven. It could be only a few feet deep in one spot and bottomless a foot away. So it was posted now, and no swimming was allowed. The school had brought that about. There was a bad undercurrent, and they wanted to protect their girls.
He walked along the highway and looked down into the lake just a few yards from the road. He saw the spot where the girls had allegedly been drowned.
It amused him to think of the man in the bar. Tim. Asking him to sell girls to his outfit. It was funny, he thought. A man would have to be out of his mind. Still, it was an amusing idea. Some of these classy little cunts would learn a lesson or two if they woke up in a whorehouse.
He walked in the gate and went straight to his cottage. When he phoned Eva's number there was no answer. He tried three times and still there was no answer. He slammed the phone down angrily. She'd pay for this.
He went into the bedroom and took off his shirt and T-shirt. No Eva. And Jenny had gone home for the weekend. She had cried when she told him she was going to do it. She couldn't bear to think of being parted from him even for two days. She would be back Sunday night, she said, and she would come to him then if he wanted her to. He'd told her that indeed he wanted her to.
He'd been screwing her every night since their first encounter here in the cottage. He kept her in a constant state of desire, using every trick he had ever learned to turn a girl on. She was getting better and better in bed. But he was getting a little tired of her, and when she'd told him that she was going home for the weekend, he had had to pretend a distress he didn't feel. He'd been looking forward all day to a romp in the hay with Eva. And now the bitch wasn't home. Well, that was what he got for being so easy on her. It was time she learned a lesson. He could put her behind bars in nothing flat if she tried this kind of crap again. He had told her to be there when he wanted her, and now he would have to convince her that he meant it.
There was a knock at the door. He walked to it as he was, stripped to the waist, and opened the door wide, still pissed off about the way things were working out for the night.
Melinda Michaels stood framed in the door, smiling at him, with a brown paper bag in one hand. She smiled brightly.
"Hi, boss," she said. "Can I come in? I promise to be good. But not too good."
He looked at her in astonishment. Since that night he had laid her he had decided not to fire her from her post as assistant chairman. They had got along all right in school, but he hadn't thought she liked him any better than before. He knew she had flopped for him just to keep her job. But now...
He stood aside and she entered. When the door was closed, she pulled a bottle from the bag and held it up. It was Johnny Walker, his brand of Scotch. It was a fifth.
"I thought we might put some records on the stereo and drink as much of this as appeals to us, and, well, just see what transpires. What do you say?"
"I say that sounds pretty good. But what's the idea? I didn't have the impression you were exactly partial to me, Mel."
"You're not an easy guy to like. But I managed it." She walked into the kitchen and he heard her taking glasses down. In a moment she was back. She was still wearing the long coat she'd had on when she came in. When Steve had his drink in his hand, she put her own on the coffee table and then faced him and took off the coat. It was quite an unveiling.
Other than a black garter belt, her stockings and her shoes, she hadn't a stitch of clothing on under the coat.
Steve almost dropped the drink. Then, when he had caught his breath, he laughed. He roared. Tears came to his eyes, and he realized that Mel was laughing just as hard as he was.
"I thought you'd appreciate that sort of thing," she said when their laughter had subsided.
"You are the craziest broad I've ever seen. You mean you walked all the way over here from your cottage like that?"
"It isn't so far. And I thought I might as well be dressed for the occasion."
"Well, we both might as well be."
He dropped his slacks, pushed his shorts down and then sat on the couch and pulled off his shoes and socks. Mel picked their drinks up from the coffee table and gave his to him. They drank. She sat next to him, so close he could feel the texture of her skin against him.
He leaned forward and put his glass on the table, and she smiled and did the same.
Steve took her in his arms and gave her a deep an ardent kiss. Her hands moved over him urgently, sliding over his skin, stroking him, exciting him, just as he was stroking and exciting her.
She extricated herself from him and took off the stockings and garter belt. The shoes had been kicked off when she'd sat down. Steve laid a hand on one beautiful thigh and stroked it. Mel came against him again, and they kissed once more. He found one of her breasts and stroked it, cupped it. She began to lie back, pulling back, hauling her to an upright sitting position again. She looked at him in bewilderment. Steve put his hand at the back of her head and pressed her down toward his lap. When she realized what he wanted, she laughed and dived down with no need of pressure from him. His cock was stiff as a board, and her lips touched it lightly at first, her tongue passing over it, sending a shivering thrill through his body. Then she took the prick in her hands and brought her mouth down onto it more firmly. Her teeth grazed the head of it, and he grunted in sudden delight. Then her lips were on it, moving expertly, her tongue moving just as expertly, and he was grunting and crying out in pleasure. He put his hands on her back and felt the smoothness of her skin, and tightened his belly against the culmination that threatened to come too soon. Her hair was spread out on his lap and belly, soft and dark and wild-looking. Steve could smell the perfume she was wearing, mixed with the smell of her excitement, and he felt his legs writhe with a pleasure too great to be held in.
Mel ran her hands over his abdomen, adding to his excitement. Then she took his balls in her other hand, and he knew there was no use holding back any longer. He was coming, and coming now.
His seed boiled into her mouth, and he cried out loudly with pleasure, and with the climax that couldn't be held in any longer. His body pitched in one violent reaction to the sensations that were sweeping through it, and then it was over.
She sat up next to him, laid her hand on his thigh and smiled up at him.
"How was that?" she asked, with obvious pride in her voice. Steve looked at her in a way that needed no words to explain it. She laughed. "Hell, I used to do this kind of thing for a living. Remember that. I know all the little tricks, Steve. I know how to keep a man happy."
"I'll say you do."
"As soon as you recuperate, well get down to the regular stuff."
Her naked presence was a powerful stimulant, and he was capable just a short time later. They got up and went into the bedroom, where they could screw in comfort.
Mel turned down the bed, and they lay down on the cool sheet next to each other. They came together, belly to belly, thigh to thigh. He could feel her magnificent breasts flattened against him, and his cock, already hard, went stiffer, painfully stiff. He ran his hands over her, her thighs, her crotch, her pussy. Their kissing grew more and more frantic, until kisses were no longer enough. Steve rose above her, and her legs were spread for him, ready and waiting. A real pro, he thought. Her hands were positioned to accept his cock and feed it into her, and then he came down on her and went in her belly. He could feel her body come up against his with a slap, the passion in her driving her to him with explosive force.
They struck their rhythm, and he felt the pleasure mounting, and then it was nearing the climax. He held himself back, slowing himself down until she could match his orgasm. It didn't take long. They timed it together better than he had expected, almost as though they had been married for years. He felt the pleasure mount to a peak, and then there was no holding back, and no longer any reason to hold back, because she was shouting in his ear, "Oh, God! Oh, now! Oh, God!"
Steve's seed spurted into her, and he yelled with pleasure. Then, it was over.
"You want to do your old buddy a favor?" he asked when they were lying peacefully beside each other again.
"Your wish is my command, master."
"Why don't you go get the whisky and bring it in here. We might as well have nourishment for the long night ahead."
She came back in a moment with the bottle and glasses.
She had a pack of cigarettes too, with a book of matches hanging by its flap.
When she was next to him again, she lit two cigarettes and handed one to him. He puffed contentedly, running his hand lightly and familiarly over her skin. Suddenly, he burst out laughing.
"What's so funny?" she asked, smiling in anticipation.
"I was just thinking. Before you knocked on the door tonight, I was thinking that I had a dull evening in store for myself."
6
A MONTH LATER JENNY TOLD STEVE SHE WAS pregnant. She came to his cottage on a Wednesday night to help with the novel, and for some more of what they had been doing for the past month. But he could see by her eyes that she had been crying. She seemed nervous and upset, and when he touched her she suddenly flung herself against him and held herself tightly to him, crying great, huge sobs.
"Hey," he said, "What the hell is this?" He had a suspicion of what it was, and hoped he was right.
"I-I-nothing, darling. I've just been nervous lately."
"None of that. Now, I know something is wrong. Don't try to spare me if something is the matter. After all, honey, we love each other. That means we share the good and the bad."
She walked away from him and stopped at his desk. She picked the corner of a piece of paper up between her thumb and forefinger and fiddled with it nervously.
"It may be a false alarm. But I don't see how it could be. I've been hoping against hope, darling, that-" She stopped and turned suddenly to face him. "I've missed two periods."
"I see. Well, that doesn't sound too much like a false alarm, does it?"
"Darling, I'm sorry. It's just that I'm so unaccustomed to this sort of thing. I didn't know how to keep it from happening, and I didn't want to give you up..."
"It's my fault, if anyone's, Jenny. I'm not inexperienced. I should have seen to it that steps were taken to prevent this."
"Steve, don't feel trapped. I love you, darling. I don't want to hurt you in any way. And I promise you that no one will ever know you had anything to do with this. I'll have the baby, and it ll be taken care of. Fortunately, finances are something I don't have to worry about. But no one will ever know you're the father."
"Thanks a lot."
"What? I don't understand-"
"No one will ever know I'm the father. I won't be able to claim my own child. Is that what you're saying."
"Well, I just don't want you to-"
"Feel trapped, I know. You little idiot. How could I feel trapped? We're in love, aren't we? This is the best thing that could have happened. Now you'll have to many me, like it or not."
She looked at him, and he saw sudden tears form in her eyes. And then she came to him at a run, her arms locked around his neck, and she cried again, harder than before. He smiled at the wall behind her and held her and stroked her back lightly.
"Oh, I was afraid you weren't going to say that," she sobbed. "I know you love me, Steve. I do know that. But I couldn't be sure you'd want to marry me. A dumb bunny student in one of your classes. How could I be sure?"
"Look," he said, "the Easter break is ten days off. When it comes, you and I will take a plane to Nevada and get married. That's all there is to it. And as for wondering whether I wanted to marry you, I'm ashamed of you for ever doubting it. Do you think I go around seducing all my students?"
"No, no, of course not, I-" She broke off. "Steve, I just thought of something. What about my father? Hell never let us many."
"The hell with your father. No, I didn't mean that, baby. But you're eighteen, aren't you."
"I just turned nineteen last week."
"All right. We don't need your father's consent. And since you don't think hell want us to marry, we won't take the chance and ask him. Well wait until we're thoroughly spliced, and then well call him from Las Vegas and tell him."
"Oh, I'm so happy! I just can't believe everything is working out this well. It's not possible."
"It's very possible."
"I don't have to be afraid of my father any more, do I?"
"From now on if he wants to give you a hard time, hell have me to deal with."
She kissed him passionately, and he felt his blood heating. But he gently pushed her away.
"You'd better get back to your dorm now."
"What? But I want to spend the evening with you."
"Under the circumstances, I think it's best if we don't see each other outside of class until the big day."
"Oh. But that's ten whole days away."
"It won't be any easier for me than it will for you, darling. But I think it's necessary. We've been careful up to now. But now we have too much to lose. I don't want to take any chances. None at all. So we're going to be extra careful." Besides, he thought, there isn't really any reason to keep trying, now that I've got that thing planted in your little belly.
"Well, all right, darling. But it isn't going to be easy. I just feel like all the time I spend away from you is wasted life."
When she was gone, Steve laughed aloud with enjoyment. Twenty million dollars, he thought. Twenty million good old American dollars. And a father with heart trouble. He had been doing some reading on the subject of Elton Read. He had had something like this in mind when he had come to work at Duzzydunc, but it had never occurred to him that he might hit the jackpot this big. Or this soon.
He got out the whisky and had a double to celebrate. He'd like to see Read's face when he found out that his darling daughter had married an English instructor. He'd bust a vein. Well, that was fine. The more veins he busted, the sooner his money would go to Jenny. And Steve was pretty sure he could handle Jenny. She was crazy about him, and dumb enough to trust him implicitly. That's an unbeatable combination to have going for you, he thought with glee.
There was a knock at the door. It was Mel. She had on a red dress that hugged her shape.
"Well," she said, when he had let her in, "you don't seem particularly happy to see me, lover."
"Of course I'm happy to see you. Mel."
"Well, then, get me a drink, why don't you, and make me feel welcome."
He poured her a drink and brought it to her. He'd been seeing a lot of Mel in the past month. It had gotten to be difficult of late, keeping the three women in his life separate. But that was the kind of difficulty he liked. He was sorry to see the end of his little relationship with Mel, and doubly sorry to see the end of his relationship with Eva. But maybe he could get together with Eva from time to time. He still had those lovely photographs, and that meant that whether married or not, whether he worked at Duzzydunc or not, she was his property.
Mel tossed off the drink, smiled and sat down on the couch.
"I've got good news for you, Mel," he said. "You're going to end up with that department chairmanship after all."
She looked up at him sharply. "What do you mean?"
"I'm quitting. Going to ride off into the sunset, and leave Duzzydunc for the inhabitants."
"Quitting?"
"That's right. I've ... ah ... had a better offer."
"Where?"
"I'd rather not go into that, if you don't mind."
"Are you trying to shake me, Steve?" Her voice was cold and hard. He stared at her.
"Shake you? It hadn't entered my mind. I didn't think there was that much between us, Mel."
"You bastard. Do you think I come over here every night because I like the furniture?"
"I think you come over here all the time because you like to get planked, if you want the truth."
"I could get 'planked', as you so chivalrously put it, by any guy I wanted."
"But not every guy is as good at it as I am."
"Jesus, what an ego!"
"All right, I'll play straight man. Why do you keep your precious ass for me alone?"
"Because I'm in love with you, you son of a bitch!" Steve laughed. "In love? You?"
"Wipe that goddamned smirk off your face. I don't care how it sounds to you, it's the truth. I love you, and I'm not going to give you up for some job you've landed." Her face softened, and with it, her voice. "Please, honey, I mean it. What's the matter with that, anyway? I love you. I want to be your wife. Am I that bad? So bad you don't even want me:
"Let's not get maudlin, Mel. We've had some laughs together, you and I. Let's try to part friends, huh?"
"Baby, please." She rose from the couch and came to him. She put her hands on his shoulders. "I can't bear the thought of living without you. Don't go. Or take me with you.
"What about your job? What about that department chairmanship you wanted so badly a couple of months ago?
"I don't care about any of that. I just want you, Steve."
"Well, that's too bad, Mel. Because you don't have rne." Her face hardened again, and she stepped back from him.
"All right, bastard. If you want to fight dirty, I'll fight dirty. I didn't want to use this as a weapon, but you're just not leaving me much of a choice."
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm pregnant." She said it with such obvious satisfaction Steve had to stifle the impulse to hit her in the face.
"Are you sure?"
"Reasonably. And every day I get surer and surer. If you try to walk out on me, Steve, I'll slap a paternity suit on you so fast you ll wonder what hit you. Won't that be a nice way to start this new job of yours?"
"You're a tramp, you know that?"
"Then we're a good pair, friend. Because you're a ass."
Steve moved toward her threateningly.
"I wouldn't try anything rough, Steve. I'm holding the whip hand now. And there's another little thing that might interest you. Remember that night you shooed me out through the kitchen? Well, I didn't leave right away. I was curious. So I stayed and looked out through the crack in the door. I saw who your guest was, and then I decided to stay outside and do a little peeping."
"You're real nice folks, aren't you?"
"As I said, we're two of a kind. Jenny Read! Poor, innocent little Jenny. Once you set your sights on her, she had about as much chance as a mouse locked up with a cobra. That might look pretty good to your new boss too. The fact that you've been screwing one of the students."
Steve looked down at her for a long time. He didn't dare move at first, because he was afraid that if he gave his muscles movement, he might kill her. Finally, he turned away and walked to the desk.
"Well, it looks as though you've got me, Mel. There isn't much I can do about it, is there?"
"Please, Steve, don't feel that way about it. Believe me, I wouldn't do this if I didn't think I could make you a good wife."
"An ex-hooker? Yeah, that's just what every guy dreams of marrying."
She closed her eyes for a moment, as though he had struck her a physical blow.
"That's all behind me, Steve. I'm going to be a good, faithful wife. You ll see. You ll thank me some day for not letting you throw away what we have."
"Well, when that time comes, I'll thank you. But right now I'm not too happy about it. So why don't you just go home, Mel?"
"AH right, Steve, if you want to be that way about it, I can be just as hard as you. You're going to marry me. You can send me home now, but you're still going to marry me. That's just a foregone conclusion."
"You've already established that."
"When do we do it?"
"Over the Easter break. Well take a plane to Vegas."
"All right. Just don't try to get out of it."
"Now, how the hell could I get out of it?"
"A week from Friday I'll have my bags packed. I'd suggest that you be ready." She started for the door, then hesitated. "Don't you even want to kiss me good night?"
"I'd like to kick your ass. That's what I'd like to do." He watched her until she was at the door, then called her name. She turned toward him, a tremulous, expectant smile on her face.
"Maybe you're going to be my wife in ten days," he said, "but at the moment I'm still your department chairman. There's something I want you to do. Friday would be a good day to do it. One of the newspapers in town wants to run a spread on the school. I got a notice about it a few days ago. They want some pictures. Since you're the best-looking teacher, I thought you'd be a good one to go in. It's just an interview, and the pictures. Take three of your students. The prettiest ones you can pick. And good students, academically. Girls from good family. You know what I mean."
"All right."
"You can go in right after your last class. And there's just one thing."
"Yes, darling?"
"This is kind of an iffy thing. So don't tell anyone about it until we know for sure that the spread will be published."
"All right."
"Don't fail to be there, though. I'm not sure which paper it is, but I'll tell you tomorrow."
"I won't fail. I'm good at my job, you know."
When she was gone, Steve went into his bedroom and tore wildly through everything. He looked in the suit, all the pockets, but he knew in advance that it wouldn't do any good. The suit had been cleaned twice since that night. He looked through his desk, through the waste baskets, but found nothing. He was in a sweat when he finally found the slip of paper on his dresser, under some books. He had almost thrown it out a dozen times, but for some reason he had kept it.
He dialed the number carefully. The line buzz-clicked twice, and he heard the phone at the other end picked up. "Hello?" It was Tim's voice. "Tim?"
"That's right. This my friend from the bar."
"Yes."
"Glad to hear from you, friend. What can I do for you."
"To quote you, there may be something we can do for each other."
"Fine. What have you got in mind."
"Four pieces of merchandise."
"Good. What age is this merchandise."
"Three will probably range from eighteen to twenty. I can't be sure about that."
"Sounds good. What about the other one."
"Twenty-five."
"That's a little older than we like to take them."
"Yeah, well, I'm sorry about that, Tim, but she-this piece of merchandise is part of the deal."
There was a bit of hesitation.
"I see." He sounded as though he really did.
"Don't worry about it. This is prime stuff."
"If it ain't we don't pay you, friend."
"Take my word for it, you ll want it. There's just one little flaw in it."
"Yeah, what's that?"
He tried to think of some way to allude to it, then decided to give up the secretive talk. If anyone was listening, it wouldn't fool them anyway.
"She's pregnant."
"Oh. Now I get it."
"Does that matter?"
"Shit, no. We got plenty of docs working for us who can take care of that. And see to it that it don't happen again."
"Now unless you do this my way, there isn't any deal. When these girls disappear, I don't want there to be any suspicion of what actually happened to them."
"What have you got in mind?"
"They ll be driving along the road near the lake about four-thirty Friday afternoon. Stop them some way. How you do that is up to you."
"Yeah, well, I imagine we can think of something."
"Get them out of the car, then push the car into the lake. Make it sink in the deep part. You know the spot where those coeds drowned a year or two ago?"
"Yeah."
"No one will ever be able to get that car back then.
They ll have to assume the car went out of control, and all four of the occupants drowned."
"Hey, you know, you're a real professional."
"Just get it done."
"You'll have your money by Saturday night if the dames are as good as you say."
"Good. Nice doing business with you, Tim."
"A real pleasure, friend. Any time."
"Not any time. Just this time."
Steve hardly slept Friday night. He finally dropped off about one a.m. The phone rang just a moment later, and he sat up with a sudden, convulsive move that he felt clear along his spine. He grabbed the receiver and groggily said, "Hello?"
"Steve? Eva. I'm sorry to wake you, but something has happened, and I thought as chairman of the English department you should know about it."
"What is it?"
"Mel Michaels took off in her car with three of her students. No one seems to know where she was going. But when she didn't come back this evening, the dorm mother called me up to report the missing girls. Naturally I phoned the police."
"Goddamn it, will you come to some kind of a point?"
"They found her, all right. Or that is, they found evidence of what happened to her. Tire marks leading toward the lake. The spot where those girls were drowned a couple of years ago. I don't know whether you've heard about it."
"Something about it. What about Mel? And the girls?"
"No trace. But that's to be expected. No one even knows the depth of that part of the lake. If the car went in there, and it seems pretty-likely that it did, they ll never find it."
He waited for just the right amount of time before he answered.
"Do you want me to do something? Go somewhere or see someone?"
"No. I just wanted to tell you so it wouldn't come as a complete surprise if some newspaperman calls you about it. They may want to ask you some questions."
"I appreciate that, Eva."
"I didn't do it for you. I did it for the school."
"All right, the hell with you. I don't appreciate it."
He hung up the phone and lit a cigarette. Well, so far so good. Now if no one saw what happened to that car, he was in the clear. He assumed that Tim and his boys were sharp enough at their work to make sure no one saw what they did. Poor little Mel, he thought. All that college work, and she was back to being a whore again. Well, that's what she gets for playing with the big boys, he thought. He stubbed out the cigarette and rolled over and fell instantly into a deep, sound sleep.
7
THE FOLLOWING FRIDAY HE WAS READY FOR the trip. He had his clothes packed in his car. He met Jenny at the airport. They had decided it would be safer if they weren't seen together on the campus. They caught the eight o'clock plane and were married at an all-night chapel while the ink was still drying on the license.
When they got a room in one of the biggest and fanciest hotels in Vegas, Steve ordered a bottle of their best champagne. He had the money Tim had sent him in payment for the four girls he had sold. Twenty thousand dollars. And he didn't dare bank it. So he decided to spend it as the opportunity arose. One way to spend it was making a good impression on his bride. He had to keep her dazzled until he could figure out some way to get his hands on her old man's fortune. And for that he had to wait until the old fart was safely buried.
Jenny wanted to call her father immediately and tell him she was married. It wasn't very late, and the idea appealed to Steve. He only wished he could see the old bastard's face.
The call was put through direct dial to Elton Read's unlisted number.
"Hello, Daddy? This is Jenny. What do you mean, where have I been? Oh, I see. Well, I decided not to come home this Easter break ... Well, I'm sorry I didn't ask you first, Daddy ... That's right, I'm with a friend. What's that? Know her? Well, no, I guess you don't, Daddy. You see it isn't exactly a her." She stifled a giggle and looked at Steve mischievously. Steve grinned back at her. "What Daddy? Yes, you've heard me mention him. It's my English instructor, Mr. Wayne. Well, he asked me if I'd like to come on a vacation trip with him, and I decided to take him up on it."
She paused and choked back a laugh. She held the phone away from her ear, and Steve heard a man's voice shouting something. She waited until the shouting subsided and then went on talking. "No, Daddy, frankly, I don't see anything immoral about what Mr. Wayne and I are doing. Not a thing." She stopped again, and again the shouting came across the wires. Jenny broke into fits of laughter. "Oh, Daddy, I can't go on with it," she choked. "I just can't. You are so funny when you're mad." She laughed again as the shouting rose in pitch. She had to hold the phone away from her ear. A moment later she spoke into it again. "Daddy, Steve and I are married. That's his name, Steve Wayne. And I'm Mrs. Steven Wayne."
This time there was silence at the other end of the wire. Jenny looked at Steve, and then waited for a moment for her father to say something.
"Daddy? Are you there?" Silence for a moment. Then, "Talk to him? Of course. Just a moment." She handed the phone to Steve, then ducked under the cord and came to her feet. "Daddy wants to talk to you, darling. I'm going to go in the bathroom and get ready for bed." She said it loudly enough so that her father could hear it. When she was gone, Steve held the phone to his ear.
"Mr. Read?"
"I don't know who the hell you are, mister," the voice from the next state said. It was a dry, hard voice, the kind of voice that seldom has to say the same thing twice. "But I can promise you one thing. You aren't going to get away with this."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Steve said, making his voice sound bewildered. "Get away with what, sir? Your daughter antl I love each other."
"Don't talk that crap to me, Wayne, or whatever your name is. You think you've found the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Well, I'm not going to let you get away with it. I'm not going to see my daughter's life ruined by some fortune-seeking bastard."
"Now listen, here-"
"You listen here. I've dealt with shysters all my life, boy, and I imagine I can take care of you if I have to. But I prefer doing things the easy way. How much do you want to walk out of that room, wherever you are, right now?"
"You couldn't afford it, Mr. Read."
"Don't give me that crap. I could buy and sell you out of petty cash. How much? I'll give you fifty thousand dollars."
"That's pretty cheap for a daughter, isn't it."
"Okay, now we're getting down to cases. A hundred thousand."
"Listen, Mr. Read. I love your daughter whether you want to believe it or not. And I don't intend to leave her tonight, or any time in the future."
"I'll have the marriage annulled."
"Mr. Read, has it ever occurred to you that there are things even your money can't buy?" He could almost hear the man smile.
"You think so, son? I could have you dead by tomorrow morning if I took it in my head. And no one would even know it was me that did it. Except one or two persons who wouldn't tell about it."
"Maybe you could. But that wouldn't be a very kind thing to do to your daughter."
"I think it would be the kindest thing I could do."
"If you did, you'd have to find her another husband very quickly."
There was a long silence.
"What are you telling me, Wayne?"
"I'm telling you that you are about to become a beaming grandfather. Dad."
"You son of a bitch! How low can a man get? Getting one of your own students pregnant so you could marry her. I'll have the skin flayed right off your damned back. I'll have your guts pulled out and roasted over a slow fire in front of your eyes. I'll-"
"Temper, temper, Dad. You have to watch these little fits. Remember, you're not in the best of health."
"So you know about that, huh? I might have guessed. Really got things cased out before you made your move, didn't you?"
"Mr. Read, I'll tell you once more. I married your daughter because I love her. I'm going to do the best I can to make her happy."
"You? Don't make me laugh!"
"How would you know what it takes to make your daughter happy, Mr. Read? You've never done it."
"Why, you smart ass son of-"
"Mr. Read, I think I'll hang up, now. My wife and I will be out to see you in a few weeks. In the meantime, I think I'd better give you a little time to cool off before I talk to you any more."
"Listen, where are you calling from? That's all I want to know."
"Not-likely, Mr. Read. You're a man of great influence, and if you knew where we are, you might find some way to interrupt us. And I wouldn't like that. I'm about to go to bed with my beautiful wife, and I plan to make love to her all night, off and on. Bye, now."
Steve set the phone back in the cradle, interrupting the flow of profanity that was still bubbling out of the earpiece.
He had to laugh to himself over the conversation. Read had really flipped. Probably shortened his life span by six months. Which was all to the good.
Jenny came out of the bathroom wearing a blue, baby doll set. She looked like the kind of things adolescent boys dream about.
"Do you like it?" she asked with real concern. "It's the only thing I have that isn't all fuzzy. I know it isn't very sexy, but there just wasn't any way I could get hold of a sexy one without making someone suspicious."
"Come here," he said. "Come here, and I'll show you how worried I am about your nightgown not being sexy."
She came to him, a curious shyness in her manner, and when she was close enough, he took her hand and pulled her to the bed. She fell to a prone position next to him, and he began to kiss her, his tongue pressing into her mouth and slipping across her tongue. The shyness quickly left her as she began to respond to his lovemaking. She moaned and squirmed, and her hands began their own tentative explorations.
Steve slipped a hand under the brief nightgown and felt the hot, pulsing flesh of her belly. He pushed the filmy garment out of the way and stroked the softness of her breasts. Her nipples stood up under his touch, and her breathing grew fast and ragged with excitement.
He stroked the insides of her thighs, enjoying their smooth texture, the softness of her flesh yielding to his hands. The filmy panties of the baby dolls were in the way, and he pulled them down slowly, exposing her now-wet pussy. He pulled the panties down her legs and let them drop off onto the floor. Then he pulled the tops of the baby dolls off of her, over her head, and tossed them to the other side of the bed.
Jenny lay quietly, watching him, a smile on her lips as she yielded to the intimacies of her husband. Steve rose and stripped quickly, then lay down with her again.
He embraced her, holding her soft, supple body to his, reveling in the fineness, the youthful sweetness of it. He kissed her face, smelling the clean, shampoo smell of her hair as it lay spread on the bed. Her lips parted, she lay open, excited, ready for him. He kissed her again, and mounted her. She widened her legs for him. He came down on her, penetrating her, and she came up to meet him, passionate, already versed in the ways of lovemaking, and their bodies met with a slapping sound.
Steve began his motions, and Jenny matched herself to him, caught up in his rhythm, and the pleasure shot through him. He could tell from the gasps and moans leaving her mouth that Jenny was also enjoying the experience. She squirmed and writhed as the pleasure mounted within her. Then, as he felt the climax coming, Steve accelerated his movements, sending the sensation sky-high all at once, and Jenny's arms clutched him tightly in a stranglehold, clamping his face next to her. And still the pleasure mounted, and he could feel her body going wild with passion and joy beneath him. Then, finally the peak came, hit him like an explosion that filled his head and his consciousness, and he cried out with her, his deep rasping voice joining with the higher, feminine tones of hers.
When it was over they lay beside each other, and talked about how things would be. He told her that he wanted to go on with his teaching, and not be indebted to her father for anything. Actually, it seemed like a good thing to tell her. The old man couldn't live forever, and the less he had to do with the man, the better he'd like it. When she was alone except for Steve,then it would be the proper time to make his move and get ahold of as much of her money as he could.
They talked about the baby, and wondered whether it would be a boy or girl, and thought up names. Finally, when his strength had returned to him, Steve turned to her, ready to make love again. But then he thought of something. He hadn't ever asked Jenny to do anything bizarre for him, and now, on their honeymoon, he thought, would be a good time to initiate her into such things. He wasn't about to be married to a woman who wouldn't do a little something extra for her husband. "Darling?"
"Yes?" She had begun to respond to his lovemaking, and her voice was thick.
"You're my wife, now. You know that nothing that passes between us is shameful. You know that, don't you?"
"Well ... yes, of course." She spoke hesitantly, as though wondering what he was talking about.
"Well, there are other ways of making love, Jenny. Ways we've never done it. Do you know anything about these things?"
"No, I ... I don't know what you mean..."
"That's all right. You just follow my lead, darling."
He began to make love to her again, moving his hands over her, moving his mouth about, bringing her to a level of passion again, raising her to a fit of desire. She responded beautifully, as she always did, always had, right from the first.
Her body was plastered against his, sucking warmth and pleasure and comfort from him. Steve ran his hands over her back and her ass, stroking and squeezing the fine, soft flesh until she was squirming with need, and crying out with desire, begging him to take her.
Steve moved away from her and pushed himself up higher on the bed, and then took her head in his hands. She looked at him in bewilderment, her mind still fogged with passion, and waited to see what he was going to do.
He moved her head downward, toward his cock, already stiff and erect, and when she saw what he was going to do, she pulled back, resisted him. He said soft things to her, crooned assurances, and pulled her inexorably toward her destination. She fought him for a moment longer, then, as the cock approached her trembling lips, she suddenly dived forward, her mouth closing over it, her tongue moving across it, and Steve grunted with pleasure and arched his back, so swift and unexpected and powerful was the pleasure.
Suddenly she was all over him, her body squirming into contact with his, her tingly hands fluttering over his abdomen and legs and balls, but most of all that wonderful, soft, feminine mouth, working crazily at him, sucking him dry as he pitched and grunted with the pleasure, and his hands clutched at the bed and at his wife's body in a vain attempt to work off the effects of what she was doing, to make the pleasure bearable.
Then, finally, he cried out and his seed boiled into her mouth, and she clutched at him, and he wondered for a moment, before all thoughts were driven from his skull, whether she was actually achieving a climax of her own, and then the explosion came again, and he cried out in pleasure, and fell limp to the bed.
"Was I any good?" she asked a bit later, as she lay next to him. "I mean, if I wasn't, please be patient with me, darling. I have to learn."
"You don't have much to learn. You were great. You know, I think I've married a born wanton."
"You're right. I am a wanton where you're concerned. Of course, I've never had any sexual experience with any other man, but I just know I'd hate it. I love you, Steve, and I'll always do anything you say. Anything at all, whether it has to do with sex or with something else. You just tell me what you want, and I'll do it. I want to prove to you just how far my love goes."
The next day Steve suggested that they check out and travel for the rest of their honeymoon. There was little she could do in Vegas that she couldn't do elsewhere, he said. She wasn't old enough to gamble.
Actually, he wanted to keep moving so Elton Read wouldn't be able to zero in on them. It wouldn't take much intelligence to figure out that the place they'd be-likely to go to get married in a hurry would be either Vegas or Reno. And a man of his wealth would be able to have both cities combed for them. He didn't know whether Read would still try something, now that he knew his daughter was pregnant, but Steve didn't intend to give him the opportunity. They would have to confront Read sooner or later, of course, but he wanted to give the old bastard a chance to cool off. And the longer he and Jenny were married, the less chance there would be of Read trying to break it up.
They traveled for a month, driving from state to state in a leisurely way. Before leaving Vegas he had called Eva at the school and told her that he would be taking some extra time off for a honeymoon. It would screw up the whole schedule, he knew, and she would have to find someone to take his classes until he returned. But she knew better than to object, of course.
Toward the end of the month, he decided it was time to beard the lion and meet his father-in-law. Actually, he was surprised to find that he dreaded the encounter. The old man's shrewdness was legendary. He couldn't have risen from a dirt farmer's shack to a fortune of twenty million dollars without having a lot on the ball. And over the phone he had sounded pretty tough. Still, Steve was confident that he had managed to get Jenny deeply enough in love with him to walk out and never see the old fart again, if it came to that. And if Read was as fond of his daughter as everyone thought, that would be all the leverage Steve would need.
Elton Read lived in a mansion in Beverly Hills, a city in which he was on the boards of directors of four banks. The mansion stood on seven acres of ground, fenced in and guarded. The man at the gate looked warily at Steve's Ford coupe, and then at Steve himself, before he saw Jenny's face. He touched the bill of his cap.
"Oh, good evening, Miss Read. I didn't see you at first."
"Good evening, Carl. It isn't Miss Read any more. It's Mrs. Wayne. This is my husband."
The guard looked surprised. Apparently Read hadn't let the word spread around. The man looked at Steve with a combination of suspicion and respect.
"Good evening, Mr. Wayne. Glad to meet you, sir."
"Glad to meet you, Carl."
They drove up a long, winding drive. By the time they reached the house, there was a man standing in front of it, waiting for them.
"Good evening, Mr. Wayne, Mrs. Wayne," he said into the window when they had rolled to a stop. "Mr. Read is waiting in the library. I'll park your car for you, sir. And I'll take care of your luggage."
"Thank you." Steve got out of the car and the man helped Jenny out and then walked around to the driver's side and got in.
A man in tails met them at the door. He was short and stout and stood like a general from West Point.
"Good evening, sir, madame. Mr. Read is waiting to greet you in the library."
"Thank you, Robert," Jenny said. "We can find the way.
She squeezed Steve's hand and smiled confidently. Steve didn't know quite what he had expected, but the magnificence of the house and this army of servants impressed him. He was beginning to doubt his ability to carry this thing off. His confidence was evaporating rapidly.
Elton Read was sitting at a big desk across a big room, facing the door through which Steve and Jenny entered. He was wearing a white shirt, open at the throat, and with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He looked like a workman who had been dressed up for some special occasion and couldn't wait to get comfortable afterward. He rose when they entered, plucked off a pair of glasses and gave Steve a glance that seemed to take in everything. Then he came around the desk and embraced his daughter. She stretched up and kissed his tanned, weathered cheek.
"Daddy, I want you to meet your son-in-law, Steve Wayne."
The old man released his daughter and turned to face Steve. The two men looked at each other for a long moment, and Steve had to fight to keep from fidgeting. Read had startling blue eyes that looked as though they could penetrate to a man's soul. Finally, the old man extended a hand. Steve took it, shook it.
"Let's us all have a drink," Read said. He put a hand on Steve's shoulder and guided him to a bar in one corner. Jenny sat down in an overstuffed chair. Read poured himself a Scotch on the rocks, and Steve indicated that he would like the same. Read took Jenny a glass of wine.
"Well," he said, standing in the center of the room and facing them both. Steve had taken a place next to Jenny's chair. "Well, here's to the young couple."
They drank. Read asked them some questions about their honeymoon, and they answered them. After a half-hour Read looked at Jenny.
"Honey, I know you must be pooped after all that riding around. Why don't you go on upstairs and freshen up?"
Jenny smiled.
"That means he wants to talk to you alone, Steve." She got up and kissed Steve lightly.
"I told the servants to put you in the white room," Read told her. "I didn't think you'd want to stay in your old room, honey. Too small."
When Jenny was gone, Read looked at Steve again in the way he had when they were being introduced. But this time Steve was expecting it. And Jenny wasn't here to complicate the situation. And the drink had loosened the knots in his belly.
"Well, Wayne, I don't know you, and I don't know whether I like you. But it don't matter a hell of a lot, because it looks like I'm stuck with you."
"Thanks for the warm welcome. It looks like we're stuck with each other."
"I'll be perfectly frank with you, boy. I was planning on trying to break up this marriage. I think you're after my money, and Jenny was the handiest way to get it." . "I'm sorry you feel that way, Mr. Read. I love your daughter."
"Maybe you do and maybe you don't. Either way it don't seem to matter much. I saw the way she's been lookin' at you the past half-hour. Couldn't keep her eyes off you. So it's no use tryin' to break up the marriage. I couldn't blast her loose from you with dynamite."
"Or me from her."
Read ignored the interjection.
"I'm a businessman, son. I come prepared. like I said, I figured on trying to break up this marriage. But I also realized that I might not be able to. So I prepared for that kind of situation, too. I'm a realist. I make do with what the Lord gives me under the circumstances until I get the chance to change the circumstances.
"Now, like I said, I don't know you, and I don't trust you. But the way things stand now I got no choice but to take you at face value. You say you love my daughter. All right, I'll take your word for that. Until you do something to make me change my mind."
"I appreciate that, sir. All I want-"
"Now, I'm not going to offer you a job workin' for me. If I did, the job would be a gift. You know that. There isn't anything you know how to do that I need done. And if you're any kind of a man at all, you don't want to hold down a job just because your wife's daddy owns the business."
"Of course."
"On the other hand, Jenny is used to livin'nice. I don't want her livin' on your salary. Now, don't go gettin' insulted. I know you make enough to live decent. But Jenny is used to more than decent. If I was as mean as some folks think I am, I'd let you go ahead and keep her the best way you can. In about a year, when the orange blossoms were all out of her hair, she'd come runnin' back to me. But I'm not goin' to do somethin' that would make her unhappy. I'm goin' to give you two a chance together."
"Well, just what do you have in mind, Mr. Read?"
"A man who-likes to come to the point, huh? All right, this is what I have in mind, son." He rose and walked to the bar and poured each of them a drink. "I been lookin' into that school you work for, son. It's almost bust."
"What?"
"That's right. Most people don't know about that. But I got ways of findin' out. It ain't that the school couldn't make money if it was bein' run right. It's just the old gal who owns it is kind of stupid. You know what I mean? Inherited the place from her husband, and since then she's spent and borrowed the place into the ground." He handed Steve one of the drinks and returned to his chair behind the desk.
"Now, you're an educator, and maybe a good one, if your college records are any clue. Yeah, I had those looked up, too. I figure since that's your line of work, I'll give you a little boost in that direction. Somethin' that will give you the kind of money that you need to keep a girl like Jenny happy."
"Are you offering to buy me my own school?" Steve asked jokingly.
"I'm not offerin' to, son. I've already done it." He smiled at the look on Steve's face. A smile-looked foreign on that cracked face. "I bought the one you been workin' for. Bought it from the old lady and paid off the bank. Now it's yours, just as soon as you sign the papers." He looked at Steve carefully, and Steve felt the need to object to the offer.
"Mr. Read, that isn't-"
"Save it, son. If you're objectin' because you think I want you to, don't bother. If you're objectin' because you really don't want to be beholdin' to me, don't worry about it. This is a weddin' gift. Every father-in-law's got a right to give his daughter's husband a weddin' present."
Steve looked at the old man and saw that he spoke the truth. There really wasn't any need to pretend to reject the offer.
"All right, sir. In that case, I accept. For Jenny's sake."
"Sure. For Jenny's sake. Now, before you go on up to your wife, son, I just want to say one more thing, since you brought up the subject of Jenny's sake. What I want to say is this: That girl is all I've got since her mama died. I've taken good care of her. Or tried to. Maybe, like you told me on the phone the other night, I haven't been too good at makin' her happy-"
"Mr. Read, what I said was said in anger."
"Never mind, son. Maybe you were right. Maybe I didn't make her happy. And maybe you can. If so, I'm glad you married her. But I want to tell you this. I never hurt her, neither. Not deliberately. And you better not. Now, I don't mean little hurts, the kind a man and woman just naturally run into livin' together. That kind of thing can't be helped. But if you ever really hurt her, son, I'm goin' to make you damn your own mother to hell for ever lettin' you be born."
"I'm sure you-"
"Save it. You just better know that I've been around a little in my day, and I know ways to make a man miserable you never even guessed at. Understand?"
Steve had to work to keep the quaver from his voice.
"I understand. But your threat wasn't necessary."
"Son, that was no threat. That was a solid gold guarantee."
"Daddy was rough on you, wasn't he?" Jenny asked him when he entered their room.
"Well, he didn't leave much to my imagination about how he'd react if I turned out to be a bad husband."
"The old-"
"Take it easy, honey. After all, he's your father. He's only thinking of what's best for you. So am I."
"It's just like you to speak for him. He has no right to be mean to you. He's always jumping into things that are none of his business. Anyway, we're married. He can't do anything about that."
"Actually, he's done something for us."
"What do you mean?"
He told her about the school.
"Oh. And you accepted?"
"That's right. Why? Don't you think I should have?"
"That's up to you. You're the head of the family. I just want to know one thing. Did you take his gift because you believed that I really might leave you if you couldn't give, me all the things he thinks I need to make me happy?"
Steve answered very carefully.
"No, darling. That wasn't it at all. He wanted to give it to us, and it seemed to me pretty foolish to turn him down. Besides, I agree with him that you deserve to live nicely."
She looked satisfied. Relieved, even.
"All right, then, I don't mind. I was afraid you thought you needed something like that to hold me."
Steve smiled at her.
"You know something? You know just how smug and confident I am? I'm absolutely sure that you'd follow me anywhere. Isn't that awful?"
"Awful? I'm tickled to death. That's just how I want you to feel."
They were lying across the bed, propped up on elbows, facing each other. Jenny wore a red nightgown they had bought somewhere in their travels. It was transparent, and he could see her breasts, firm and rose-tipped, through it. He could see the inverted triangle of her cunt, too. He didn't know whether it was the sight of her there, beautiful and available, or whether it had something to do with the things she was saying, or even, in some strange way, with the things her father had said. But, suddenly, Steve was flooded with desire for her.
He took her in his arms and pulled her close against him. She nestled, soft and warm and precious, against him. When Steve kissed her she returned the kiss, not hotly and passionately as she usually did, but softly, gently.
Steve pushed her gently away from him and opened the hooks that held the nightgown together. She lay back and looked up at him while he opened them. He flicked the garment open, this side and then that. Her body lay exposed to his gaze, beautiful, naked, available. He passed his hands over her breasts and belly, her thighs and her cunt. The gentleness in her gave way to passion, to a desire as fierce as his own.
In a matter of seconds he had stripped to the buff and was with her again on the bed. Her need hadn't abated in the least while she waited for him. She clawed at him, urgently pulling him to her. Her mouth hungrily covered his. Her tongue probed for his, found it, and slid across it again and again, striking desire ever hotter in him.
Steve stroked the insides of her thighs, soft, smooth, full and warm. She moaned at the contact and renewed her kisses. Her hands moved to his crotch, took hold of his balls and fondled them, and Steve cried out with desire. He felt her hands move over his abdomen, then slide down to his cock, taking it lightly, fondling it, coaxing it to ever greater hardness.
Steve could feel the pulsing in his belly that told him that he was going too high to hold back much longer. He took Jenny's thighs in his hands and parted them. She eagerly opened them to him, and her body lay spread open, ready to accept him. He mounted her, and she grabbed his prick, guiding it into her belly as he came down on her.
The pleasure was sudden and intense, wringing a cry from each of them, and then the movement came, and she clutched him to her, gripping him tightly, hotly, as he soared to his climax, and their bodies went rigid with a culmination of pleasure, and they cried out together.
8
THEY STAYED IN THE READ MANSION FOR THREE days. The old man was cordial to Steve during the stay, and it was obvious that they could have stayed there a much longer time without wearing out the welcome.
Steve didn't feel comfortable there, though. He felt Read looking at him all the time, taking his measure, reading him like an open book, and he knew that he had to maintain a better facade against the old man than he did against Jenny. Besides, he was anxious to get back to the school and let Eva know that he was now officially in charge, and not just through his hold on her.
They drove to the school on a bright, clear morning. Steve dropped Jenny at his cottage where they had agreed to live until such time as they could find something better Then he drove to the administration building.
Eva's secretary greeted him with the same kind of coy invitation as always. There was nothing new in her reaction to him, so he gathered that they didn't know yet who the new owner was. That was all to the good.
Eva was wearing a black skirt and a starched white blouse that buttoned down the front. Her hair was done in a modish way. He was surprised to see that she was no longer dressing in a dowdy manner.
"Hello, Steve," she said quietly. "You stayed away a little longer than you said you would."
"That's right, Eva. I stayed away a little longer than I said."
"I've had to wire two different substitutes to keep your class going. I'm glad you're here to take over again."
"I'm not going to take over again, sweets. Not in the way you mean, anyway."
She looked at him with a tightness around her mouth that showed she knew he was about to drop a bombshell. Steve had to work to keep from grinning. No doubt she thought that he was just going to make more demands, based on his hold over her. Well, she was partly right.
"What is it, Steve?" she asked tiredly. Steve pulled a sheaf of papers from his inside coat pocket and handed them to her. Eva spread them out on the desk and looked them over carefully.
"I see," she said quietly. "We knew there was a new owner, of course, but certainly no one guessed it could be you. Is this a gift from you new father-in-law?"
"That's right. So now I'm your boss, Eva. Officially. But not for long."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm firing your ass. I want you off this campus by nightfall."
She looked at him for a moment as though she hadn't understood his words. "But ... why?"
"I'm reorganizing the school. The principal isn't going to be such a big cheese any more. I'm creating a new position here. President of the school. And I'm electing myself. From now on the principal will just take care of less important administrative matters. I couldn't ask you to take on a lower job like that. So you're out."
"And if I tell you that I'm willing to take the downgrading?"
"Are you telling me that?"
"Yes."
"Then I'm telling you this. Keep out of the way. Follow orders. Put your signature where I tell you to. Or else you're out on your ass."
"Then all that talk about firing me was just a scare?"
"You might say it was a foretaste of what you have coming if you don't stay in line. And another thing. From time to time I've called you up at night and you weren't there. I don't want to happen again. From now on you're to be available to me at all times."
"And you think I really want to keep my job that much?"
"No. I think the fact that you work for me just cements our relationship. My primary hold over you is still the same as it was before. You want to keep your ass out of prison, and you don't want to lose the right to teach in this sovereign state."
She fumbled with a pen on her desk and tried to look at him. Her eyes kept falling away. Finally, by a supreme effort, she managed to meet and hold his eyes.
"Steve, there's something I have to tell you. I'm married." She held up her left hand, showing him a gold ring, as though the statement required proof. Steve looked at her long and hard, and her gaze fell away again.
"Now, just what the hell made you think you could get away with that? Without even asking Daddy's permission?"
"Steve, please don't ruin this for me. I want this marriage very badly."
"Who is it? Anyone I know?"
"No. A man in town. I've known him off and on for the five years I've been here. He's always had a crush on me, I think. But he was afraid to make a move because he thought I couldn't be interested in him."
"Why? Has he got three heads?"
"No. He has polio. Or he had it as a boy. He walks with a cane. One of his legs is withered."
Steve looked at her in astonishment.
"Wait a minute. Let me get this straight. You married a cripple?"
"Don't call him that!" Eva's eyes blazed. "He's nothing of the sort. A cripple is someone who can't function in society. David owns his own business, a realty office. He does very well. Steve, please don't ruin things. David thinks I'm something very special. I don't want him disillusioned."
"Well, then, you better cozy up to me, sweetie pants. Because I'm the one guy who can disillusion him fast. How special would you seem to him if I fired your ass on moral grounds? How much would he think of you if the vice squad came trooping to your domicile with a warrant for your arrest for corrupting the morals of a minor?"
Eva leaned her head on one hand, her elbow on the desk.
"Oh, Jesus. You'd do it, too."
"You bet your sweet ass I'd do it. In fact the idea appeals to me. It sounds like fun."
Suddenly Eva was around the desk and standing in front of Steve.
"Steve, please. Please don't do this to me. I'll work like a demon for you. But don't ruin this marriage for me. Please."
"I won't ruin your marriage, Eva. As long as you never forget, not for one instant, just who it is that has first call on your ass. And it isn't that cripple."
"Steve, please don't make me do that. It didn't matter so much before. But now that I'm married, it matters a lot. I've been faithful to my husband-"
"For a whole month."
"I want to go on being faithful to him."
"And you're asking me to let you do that?"
"I'm not asking, Steve. I'm begging. You like that don't you? To have people beg you? Well, I'm begging you now. Please don't make be betray my husband."
"You're not on your knees, Eva. You have to be on your knees to beg."
She looked at him for a moment, biting her lip, as though trying to decide whether he meant what he was saying. Finally, she fell forward, kneeling close before him.
"All right. Now I am on my knees. Now I'm begging you, Steve. Please, please, please, don't wreck things for me."
Steve took her head between his hands and tilted it back, raising her lovely face to full view.
"Eva, I didn't know it meant that much to you. Hell, I won't ruin things for you, Eva."
Her face was flooded with relief. Fresh tears ran down her cheeks to mingle with the old ones.
"Oh, Steve, thank you! You won't regret this, I promise n you.
I m sure I won t.
"I promise you I'll work hard for you here. Well put the school on a paying basis. I'll work night and day for you."
"That's fine, Eva. Now, as long as you're down there, how about giving me a blow job?"
The happiness drained slowly from her face as his words sank in.
"What?" Her voice was so soft he could hardly understand her. "But you just said-"
"I just said I wouldn't ruin things for you. And I won't There won't be any need to ruin anything. What the cripple doesn't know won't hurt him, Eva. And there isn't any reason for him to find out, because you're going to do as you're told. You're a clever girl. If he's as goony about you as you say he is, it shouldn't be too hard to keep him ignorant of the fact that you're piling for someone else."
"Steve, pie-"
"Now, I'm tired of all this bickering, cunt. I'm not going to talk to you about it any more. And I don't want any more shit from you. One more word, Eva. Just one. That all it's going to take. I'll have those pictures in the mail tomorrow morning. One copy to your hubby's office, one to the cops, and one each to every newspaper office and TV station in town. And I'll say I got a copy in the mail too. Now there are two courses of action open to you: Suck my cock, or get up and get your ass out of here. But either way, I don't want any more crap." He looked down at her with a hard, cold gaze. She looked back at him for a long moment. Then, with tears streaming down her face, she raised a slender, trembling hand and opened the zipper of his pants.
His cock wasn't hard to get out of his clothes. It practically sprang out at her. She held it in her hands and brought her lips closer and closer to it, hesitating, prolonging her own agony as though there were some hope of rescue. But of course there was no hope for her, and finally her lips touched the head of Steve's cock. He gripped the arms of the chair tightly and grunted with pleasure.
Eva parted her lips and took part of the cock into her mouth, lightly kissing it. Her tongue moved over it, stroking it, tasting it, bringing it more and more alive as her saliva mingled with the lubricating juices of his body.
Steve's body began to jerk and start, convulsing with pleasure that came in wave after irresistible wave. Eva hunched over his cock, her hair falling fan-like over his lap. Steve cried out with pleasure again and again as she brought him along, raised him to higher and higher peaks of joy, and then his sperm spewed into her mouth, and she worked for one more feverish moment, bringing Steve to his climax. Steve clenched his teeth, holding back the cry that forced its way through his throat, afraid of making a noise that could be heard through the walls of the office, a noise that might bring Eva's secretary through the door. His knuckles whitened with the pressure of his hands on the chair arms. His body gave one last convulsive fit that ended in a shudder, and it was over.
He sat in the chair, covered with sweat, while Eva fell in a heap at his feet. Her body shook with sobs. Steve laughed.
"I hope you aren't going to work up to this kind of a state every time you suck me off from now on, Eva. Because it's going to happen quite often."
He got up, stuffed his cock back into his clothes, zipped up and straightened his jacket and pants. He picked up the papers he had given Eva and put them back into his coat pocket and started toward the door. He turned and looked at her huddled there on the floor, and he grinned.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Eva. Oh, by the way, I'm taking this office. And your secretary. You can have one of the smaller offices. You won't need a secretary from now on. You're just going to be a glorified secretary yourself."
"Steve? I'd just like to ask one thing, if you don't mind?"
"Ask."
"Why are you doing this? Why do you want me."
"That's a stupid question."
"No it isn't. In your position you could have any or all of a couple of dozen beautiful women. We have some very attractive young teachers on the staff here. And there are any number of students who are panting for you like bitches in heat. And you have a beautiful young wife. Why do you have to have me too?"
"Well, there are a number of reasons, Eva. For one thing, you are a beautiful woman, and a damned good screw. I can't see passing that up as long as it's available.
"Secondly, there's the fact that you tried to pull a shitty deal on me and get out from under my thumb. I don't like it when someone tries to do that, Eva. So I'm teaching you a lesson.
"And then there's the fact that I just enjoy making people do things they don't want to do."
"You mean you're a sadist."
"Whatever you want to call it. I just know I get one hell of a kick out of it.
"But most of all, Eva, it's you. Remember one day, a long time ago, when I asked you to marry me? You laughed in my face."
"I didn't laugh!"
"Some shit-ass punk had the nerve to propose marriage to you, and you thought that was just the funniest thing in the world."
"No! That's not true, Steve. I wanted to say yes. I loved you. I was just being realistic."
"Screw reality! You put me in my place. Well, ever since then, candy crotch, I've been waiting for my chance. I knew if I kept track of you my chance would come, because you're not the type who can stay pure for very long. I sure didn't expect it to turn out to be this easy. But I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.
"You're mine now, Eva. My property, to do with as I please. And I'm going to devote a little bit of my time from now on, to making you miserable. Even if it's only a few minutes a day."
9
WHEN WORD CAME THAT ELTON READ HAD DIED, Steve felt as though a ton of weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
He and Jenny had been married for seven months, and Jenny was about to deliver at any moment when the telephone rang in the middle of a rainy night.
"Mr. Wayne?" a voice asked, when Steve groggily answered the phone.
"That's right."
"This is John Abbott, sir, Mr. Read's attorney," the voice told him, and Steve knew instantly what the news would be. "I'm afraid I have some very bad news for you, Mr. Wayne. And for Mrs. Wayne in particular."
"What is it?"
"Mrs. Wayne's father passed away about an hour ago of a massive coronary occlusion, sir. There wasn't even time to summon a doctor. It was too quick."
Steve gripped the telephone and fought down the jubilation that swept over him.
"Mr. Wayne?"
"Yes. Yes, I'm here."
"There are some things to be done, sir. Papers to be signed. And then there's the reading of the will. Can you and Mrs. Wayne fly here tomorrow?"
"That presents a problem, Mr.-"
"Abbott, sir."
"Oh, yes, Mr. Abbott. You see, my wife is about to deliver. It could happen any time. Tonight. Tomorrow."
"Yes, that does present certain problems. As I understand it, Mr. Wayne, your wife is a minor. Is that correct?"
"Yes."
"Then perhaps you could take care of things for her, sir. The court will have to appoint someone to handle her affairs anyway. Naturally it will be you, since you're her legal spouse."
Naturally." Things began to penetrate Steve's sleep fogged brain. Handle her affairs. Her twenty million dollars worth of affairs.
"Perhaps, if your wife is that close to delivering, you could put her in the hospital and fly here yourself. I know a man-likes to be with his wife at such times, but we would like to get things rolling on this, Mr. Wayne. Your wife is Mr. Read's sole heir, and aside from a few small bequests to servants, his only assignee. Of course, if you feel that you shouldn't leave her at this time, we can hold things up for a while."
"No," Steve said. "No, that's all right. My wife will understand."
He put Jenny in the hospital the next day. She cried a little, smiled bravely, and told him not to pick up any strange girls in the big city. Steve kissed her and told her not to get involved with any interns.
He flew to Los Angeles and took a cab to the law office. He was there all day. They told him that he would have to meet a judge the next day and get the necessary papers signed appointing him Jenny's guardian. The whole matter would take three or four days, they said.
That night he made a long distance call. He was ready to hang up, but Eva answered the phone herself.
"Hi, sweets. Your lord and master around?"
"He's taking a bath," Eva said. "I wish you wouldn't call me here, Steve."
"I know you do. Now listen. I want you to come to L.A. for a few days."
"What?"
"You heard me. I don't care what excuse you give the cripple, but I want you here tomorrow. Tell him it has something to do with the school."
"My God, I can't leave on that short notice."
"I'll bet you can if you try."
"Steve, please, be reasonable-"
"Look, I'm going to be here for three or four days, and I don't intend to do without it for that long. Now you be here tomorrow or your ass is mud. I'm staying at the Statler Hilton, Room Twelve-o-seven. Get a room here and leave a phone message for me telling me what your room number is." He hung up on her objections.
When he returned to the hotel the next night there was a message in his mail box. It was in a sealed envelope, and it said, "1202". That was all. There was a letter from Jenny, too. He stuck it in his pocket and took the elevator up to the twelfth floor.
"Hello?" Her voice came over the phone crisply.
"I'm home, sweets," Steve said, and hung up.
She was at the door ten minutes later. She was dressed in a red dress and black, high-heeled pumps. Steve stood aside for her, then closed the door behind her and took her in his' arms. She came to him without resistance, and when his tongue pushed into her mouth, he felt a surge of response. It always tickled him the way she tried to fight down the response to his lovemaking and never could. She was just a naturally good lay.
"I'm just about to order some dinner," he said. "Have some with me."
"All right."
"What'll you have."
He ordered a couple of steaks and some wine. "That's a sexy getup," he said when he was finished ordering. "You wear that on the plane?"
"No. I've been here since three. I showered and changed."
"That's too bad. I'm about to take a shower myself. I was going to ask you to join me."
He showered and toweled himself briskly and put on a pair of slacks and a sport shirt. The meal came and they ate and talked about nothing in particular. Steve was glad when the meal was over.
"Now that the furnace is stoked," he said, "Let's get under steam."
She undressed matter-of-factly. Their relationship had been going on too long for any embarrassment. It never ceased to amaze Steve, though, that the sight of her naked body could always turn him on, as though he were seeing it for the first time.
When they were lying together, he asked her, "What kind of excuse did you give your husband?"
"I told him there was trouble with the school's charter, and I had to see someone from the state board of education."
"Very good! I told you could do it if you tried."
He felt wetness on his shoulder, and realized that she was crying.
"Cut that shit out!" he said angrily.
"I'm sorry." Her voice cracked a little as she answered. "I've never lied to my husband before."
"You've screwed like a trooper for me for the past six months."
"I know. But this time, lying to him like that, and seeing how casually he "took my wordI don't know. It's just worse. If only he showed some concern, some distrust. But he trusts me completely."
"Good. That makes things easy."
"You know, you're an easy person to hate."
Steve laughed.
"Sure. You hate me and love the crip. But look around and see whose bed you're in right now, and guess who's sleeping alone tonight."
"You filthy bastard!"
"Now I told you about that kind of talk once before, Eva." He took a fold of flesh on her arm and pinched it hard. She cried out and lay very still. Pulling away would have only increased the pain.
"I'm sorry," she said, her voice tight with pain. "I'm sorry, Steve. Please."
He increased the pressure for an instant, then released her.
"Sorry doesn't get it done, bitch. But just so you can show me how sorry you are, I'm going to let you suck my cock. Right now."
She moved downward on the bed without a word. Steve lay still and waited for the touch of her hands on his prick. In a moment he felt them there. Her slender fingers moved caressingly over the organ, bringing it to instant alertness. He was aware of the warmth of her body, her face, near his genitals. He could feel her breath, warm and light, on him, Then he felt her lips touch the head of his cock, caress it, move over it. Her teeth grazed the tender skin and sent a thrill of searing pleasure through him. Steve grunted with the sensation. His belly tightened and his legs went rigid for an instant. He made himself relax.
Eva's tongue was moving over his cock now, while her hands played with his balls and moved over his abdomen, sending fresh thrills through him. Steve could feel the sweat coming out of his pores, slicking his body. Eva's hair lay in soft folds on his belly as she buried her face against his belly and sucked on his cock. He went stiff again with sudden pleasure, bent at the waist, his body coming clear of the bed for a moment, as the pleasure shot up through his belly and down into his legs.
Eva tongued him, tasted him, and then he was crying out in earnest as the pleasure reached unbearable heights. He took her head in his hands, his fingers tangling in the long, fragrant hair, and pushed her even deeper into his crotch. He could hear her muffled gasps for air, and he felt himself going almost faint with the waves of pleasure that now swept over him, as powerful, as irresistible as the ocean tides. Then he was coming, his sperm filling her mouth, and she worked feverishly for one more instant, draining him as he cried out and fell back to the bed, gasping for breath.
They had both fallen asleep after a long session of sex, when the phone rang. Steve didn't know how long he had been asleep, but he felt a deadly kind of tiredness, the kind that comes from not quite enough rest. He reached across Eva's suddenly tense body and picked up the telephone.
"Hello?"
"Mr. Wayne?" It was a woman's voice, crisp and efficient.
"That's right."
"Congratulations, Mr. Wayne. You've just become the father of an eight-and-a-half-pound boy."
"What? Oh. Oh, yes."
"I know it's late, but Mrs. Wayne wanted you to know about it right away. She's well, by the way. She's sleeping right now. I thought you'd want to hear about things anyway."
"Yes. Yes, certainly. Thank you. Thank you very much." Steve hoped his voice carried the proper amount of enthusiasm.
"Nothing at all, Mr. Wayne. Part of the service. Good-bye."
"Good-bye." He placed the phone back on the hook, his arm brushing the softness of Eva's breasts. "What is it?" she asked anxiously.
"Nothing." He lay back on the bed, his head nestled in the warmth of Eva's flesh. "Jenny just dropped the kid."
10
THE MONTHS PASSED QUICKLY SLIDING AWAY INTO years. Steve and Jenny moved into her father's house. Steve was amazed at how quickly he became used to the trappings of wealth. The big house, the servants, the ability to pick up a phone and order a new car as though it were a meal, all became second nature to him before he realized it was happening.
He gave Eva back her old office and her secretary, but he maintained the title of President. It was a perfect excuse to go back to the school for a couple of days every month or so, providing him with the opportunity to pop the dick to Eva.
He handled Jenny's money with scrupulous honesty. He knew that even with the bank checking things he could have gotten away with quite a little sum. But he wanted more than just quite a little sum. He wanted as much of the money as he could get. He sensed that his greatest weapon was Jenny's trust. She trusted him implicitly. She would have walked into fire if she'd had his word that she wouldn't be burned. He didn't want that trust impaired. He wanted nothing to nibble away at it, because when his chance came, he wanted to be sure she would be unaware that she was getting the shaft until too late to do anything about it.
When Jenny turned twenty-one and his guardianship ended, he felt a mild panic at the loss of control over her fortune. But he hid the feeling, relinquishing his handling of the money with apparent relief, as though the responsibility had been a burden to him. And when Jenny asked him to go on handling financial affairs for the family, Steve pretended to hesitate.
"Please, darling," she begged. "You've done such a good job the last two years. And I'm just no good at that sort of thing. I can't even understand numbers that big. If I try to handle my own money, the sharpers will have me stripped to the bone."
"The bank will take care of it for you, Jenny," he said.
"But I don't want the bank to take care of it. The bank doesn't love me." So he put his arm around her and pretended to yield to her pleas.
"Okay, sweetie. If that's what you want."
For the first time since his early infatuation with Eva, Steve found what it was like to love something. Not Jenny, of course. Steve made it a point never to become emotionally involved with a woman. It retarded the reflexes and killed the instinct for the jugular that was so necessary in the battle of the sexes.
It was his son that he loved. Stevie looked so much like him, a perfect stranger could have spotted them for father and son. Stevie saw in the youngster a copy of himself. He doted on the boy, buying him lavish gifts and allowing him whims that made Jenny shake her head wryly. If not for Jenny's rein on him, Stevie might have been a hopelessly spoiled brat. When she pulled the boy up sharply Steve wanted to tell her to butt out, but he knew better. He had to maintain the relationship between them, keep her trusting him, until he was ready to make his move.
Other women were the hardest thing to give up. Steve had always had it easy with women, and he had never realized just how important sexual variety was to him.
Now he didn't dare play around. The opportunities were plentiful. With his new-found wealth added to his natural physical attractiveness, he found the world well-populated with mini-skirted cuties who weren't reticent about their willingness to drop their laundry for him. Secretaries of people he had to meet in business, bank tellers, airline stewardesses, everywhere he looked there was a tender young pussy available, and it broke his heart to pass it up. The school, of course, presented him with all the opportunities a man needed to fill his time. But he held back, reminding himself that when he was really independent of Jenny's good will he would be able to snap all the garters and maidenheads he wanted.
He carried on his relationship with Eva, of course. Eva had as much reason to keep things quiet as he did. More, really. He was in no danger of going to jail. But with other women there was always the chance of having one fall for him. And he had no intention of letting his future, all the beautiful probabilities he had built up, tumble because of one jealous bitch.
Once while he was making one of his periodic visits to the school, he met up with Tim, the man to whom he had sold Mel. Steve was waiting in the same bar for Eva to show up. They had a date to go moteling, and he had arrived early. He saw the man coming toward him, looking a little older, but with the same sleazy suit he had worn two years earlier, or an exact duplicate of it. Steve hadn't thought about Mel in months, and the sight of Tim shook him up a little. When he did think of Mel, it was always with a little twist of fear that she might escape from Tim's friends, and that she probably had figured out Steve's part in the trap into which she had fallen.
"Evening, Mr. Wayne." He slid into the booth, sitting opposite Steve, without waiting to be asked.
"Evening."
"I hear you're doin' right well for yourself these days."
"Is that what you hear?" Steve was instantly on his guard. He wondered whether Tim was going to have the effrontery to try a shakedown. But the idea was instantly dismissed. Tim would go to jail for a lot longer than he would if anything became known. He wouldn't dare threaten Steve.
"Yeah. I hear you're real rich now."
"That just goes to show you how inaccurate rumors are. Except for what's left of some money I came into two years ago, which you may remember, I don't have a cent to my name. My wife is rich, but then that's not the same thing, is it?"
"It is if your wife is goony about you."
"It's still not the same. What can I do for you, Tim? I'm expecting company."
"Oh, I just came over to renew acquaintances. That was real nice stuff you sold me a couple years ago. I'm almost sorry you're doin' so well, Mr. Wayne. I'd like to do business with you some more."
"Well, if I ever need money that badly I'll be sure to get in touch with you."
"Sure. You do that." He rose from the booth and looked down at Steve for a moment, a dirty smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "By the way, I was out of the country last month. Brazil. Saw an old friend of yours. She's sellin' what she used to give away. I mentioned your name to her, and she asked me to give you her love. She says you gave her the opportunity to become what she is today."
"If you happen to see her again, tell her that it was my pleasure."
His chance came three months after Jenny's twenty-first birthday. It was inevitable that something of the sort would happen sooner or later. Jenny was a beautiful girl, the type men turned and stared at on the street. And she was a healthy girl. No one knew that as well as Steve.
The chauffeur who had worked for old man Read was in his sixties, and he retired soon after Read died. Steve hired a replacement for him. He wondered, later, whether he hired Ronald because unconsciously he saw the possibility in him, or whether it was just good luck. At any rate, it turned out to be one of the smartest things Steve had ever done.
Ronald was a man of twenty-two years, tall, blonde, good-looking. He wore his hair in a crew cut, and he looked like a million dollars in his black chauffeur's uniform.
He walked with a swagger, quite sure of his superiority to the general run of mankind, very much aware of his attractiveness to women. The maids, young and old, would flutter when Ronald walked by. At first this annoyed Steve. He was the type who made women flutter, and he didn't like the competition. But after a while, he began to see that Ronald might well provide him with the chance for what he had been waiting.
He began to find more and more excuses to be away from home. When he wasn't-at the school, he had other things, pieces of business here and there, that would serve as an excuse to be away.
At first Jenny suffered bravely, but finally she began to ask him in a joking way when they were going to get reacquainted.
"Well, after all, honey," Steve said in a mildly reproachful tone, "You did ask me to run things for you. A fortune the size of yours takes some running."
He had her there. She couldn't really get too upset over his attention to her business affairs. And she knew that her father had spent a lot more time at them than he did.
Even when he was home, Steve held himself back from her. Their sexual encounters became less and less frequent.
"Christ, honey, I'm tired," he said when Jenny complained. "I work hard all day and half the night. If you'd find something to occupy yourself, instead of just sitting around all the time, maybe you'd be able to keep your mind off your gonads."
That made her cry, of course, and he apologized, as he had intended doing all along.
But he had planted the thought in her head that he might disapprove of the fact that she didn't do something constructive with her time. Before long she threw herself into several things, the kind of things that a women of her station often did. She joined some clubs, took part in some charities. Naturally Ronald had to drive her everywhere. The way Steve had it set up, she was with Ronald more than she was with him.
Jenny was a passionate girl, and Steve knew something had to give under the circumstances. He saw a nervousness, a reticence, come over his wife, and knew that either she had made the slip or was thinking of it, and losing the fight with her self-control.
He went away on a business trip after the situation had been simmering for six months. He made it a point to come back a few days early, and parked his car off the grounds and walked in. If the gateman thought strangely of it, he said nothing.
Steve went in the house and watched the drive through one of the windows. Before long he saw the Rolls Royce glide quietly up to the front of the house. It went past the house and into the garage without stopping to let Jenny out. He caught a glimpse of her through the back window, dressed to the teeth, well made up, beautiful.
Steve went out the back door of the house and walked to the garages. He opened the door silently and moved with stealth across the concrete floor.
He saw Ronald and Jenny standing beside the car, locked in an embrace. They were kissing, and then their mouths parted and Ronald whispered to Jenny.
"No," she said, her words reaching Steve softly, "he won't be back for two more days."
Ronald said something else.
"Why not, darling? I have to go into town for a bridge club meeting anyway. Afterward."
Steve stepped-into plain sight. He was behind Ronald, and they were kissing again, and when they parted and
Jenny opened her eyes, she was looking straight at him. It didn't seem to register at first, as though she were looking right through him, or as though she had seen something too ridiculous even to consider, Then, suddenly, her eyes stretched wide and she pushed herself away from Ronald.
He held her, laughing, as though he thought she was playing some kind of game with him. But he saw her looking over his shoulder, and he released her and spun about. Jenny stumbled and almost fell. Ronald's eyes were wider than hers. Steve stepped toward them, and Ronald instinctively raised his hands, though he kept them open, as though he were only raising them in a gesture of supplication.
"Mr. Wayne, he said. "Now wait a minute, Mr. Wayne. I know how this looks, but-"
"Don't worry about it, Ronald," Steve said coldly. "I've been around long enough to know that when this kind of thing happens it's the woman's fault. Of course it will be impossible for you to remain here, as attractive as the fringe benefits may be. Get your stuff out of here. Let me know where you're staying and I'll see to it that you get severance pay and a good letter of reference."
Steve spun on the balls of his feet and walked away. He heard a strangled cry from Jenny, heard the clicking of her heels on the concrete floor as she ran after him. He lengthened his stride and left her far behind.
She finally reached him in the bedroom. He had pulled his bag out of the closet and was throwing clothes into it. Jenny looked at him for a moment before she spoke. She was a little out of breath.
"Steve, listen to me."
"Now, let's please not have a lot of bullshit about this, Jenny."
"Aren't you even going to hear me out."
"What can you possibly say? You've already humiliated me by screwing the servants. Don't insult my intelligence too by telling me I didn't see what I saw."
"All right, I won't. I don't suppose there would be any sense in that, would there? What you saw was pretty plain."
"Pornographically plain."
"I don't know what got into me, darling."
"The chauffeur got into you."
"I don't know what made me do what I did, Steve. All I can do is ask you to forgive me."
"Sure. I forgive you." He continued to pack.
"Steve, don't go. Please don't leave me. Please." There was a feverish desperation in her voice. "I'll do anything, darling. Anything. Only don't leave me."
"Don't leave you. What do you think I am? I didn't expect to marry an angel, but Jesus Christ! I did think I'd like to have a wife who doesn't pay the hired help by going down for them!"
She closed her eyes for a moment.
"All right, Steve. I had that coming. And anything else you want to give me. I told you, I don't know what possessed me to do what I did. But perhaps if you'd spent more time at home, If you hadn't been so cold to me lately-"
"I see. It's all my fault. You're screwing with the chauffeur and I'm to blame. Forgive me."
"No, I didn't say you were to blame. I'm to blame, of course. I'm just trying to get you to understand what may have caused me to-"
"Look, Jenny, there isn't any reason to go into this. I really don't care what caused you to do what you did. The simple fact that you did it is enough for me. I have an old-fashioned idea about marriage. I've been faithful to you. I don't expect any medals for that, it's the way things are supposed to be. But you apparently have a more modern approach to the whole thing. I'm sure you're much more enlightened than I am. So go ahead and hose your head off. Put out for every son of a bitch who gets it up.
"But count me out." He closed his suitcase, snapping the catches into place.
As he walked to the door, she grabbed his sleeve, and he stopped. She threw herself against him, holding him tightly, her arms locked around his neck.
"Darling, please. Give me another chance. Please."
He pushed her away, but not roughly.
"Don't come near me, Jenny. Because I'm using just about all the self-control I have to keep from kicking your ass all over the estate."
"Then do it. Do whatever you want to me, only please don't leave me, darling. Please!"
"I'm leaving now, Jenny. Don't follow me into the hall, please. There's no sense in making a spectacle of yourself in front of the servants."
"I don't care about that!"
"Well, it so happens I do care about it. I think you've already done enough to humiliate me, don't you?"
At the door, he stopped again and looked back at her. Her face was streaked with tears.
"I'll get a lawyer. You'll hear from him. I'll let you start the divorce proceedings if you like. I have no desire to charge you with adultery. But start them. Because if you don't, I will. And I'll drag Ronald into court if I have to."
When he left, she was lying face down on the bed, crying.
11
SHE CAME TO HIM THREE DAYS LATER, IN THE hotel in which he was staying. He answered the door when she knocked, sure that it was Jenny.
She wore a white dress and a kerchief tied around her neck. She was really lovely, and Steve felt the stirrings of desire. Cool it, Wayne, he told himself. Control yourself. Don't throw everything away now that you have her coming to you.
"May I come in?" she asked nervously. Steve stood aside without a word. "I had a little trouble finding you," she said, when he had closed the door. "I had to hire a detective."
"I'm not in hiding, Jenny."
"I know, but that lawyer you hired wouldn't tell me where you were."
"Frankly I can't see that we have anything to talk about. Whatever correspondence is necessary between us can be conducted through our attorneys."
"Steve, can't we talk about this? Is that asking too much?"
"Yes, goddamn it! It's asking way too much. Christ, Jenny, don't you know how painful this is to me?" He walked away from her, to the window, and looked outside for a moment. Then he turned to her again. She was standing in the middle of the room, nervous, anxious, her eyes fastened on him. "Just having you here, looking at you, feeling your presence. It's enough to drive a man out of his mind.
She took a faltering step toward him.
"But it doesn't have to drive you out of your mind, Steve. I'm yours."
"That's just it. You're not mine. Not exclusively. Not any more." He began to pace the floor. "I'm not blaming you, Jenny. It's my fault, really. I should have known better than to marry you. This kind of thing never works out. But I loved you so-"
"Wait a minute. What do you mean? What kind of thing never works out?"
"Never mind, Jenny. Forget it."
"No, please. What did you mean?"
"Don't you know? Isn't it obvious? In our society, Jenny, a man who lives off his wife is considered about one step better than a pimp. I haven't got a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out. You're a very wealthy young woman. Sooner or later this kind of attitude in you had to-"
"No! You're wrong! I don't have the kind of attitude toward you that you're talking about."
"You probably aren't even aware of it, Jenny. But the attitude is there. You tell me you love me, and I believe you. So what else can explain what you did? Unconsciously you hold me in contempt. You're in the driver's seat. I don't have dime one that I don't have to thank you for."
"Steve, how can you think I could feel that way? How can you-"
"How could I have thought a week ago that you'd be out screwing the chauffeur?"
She jerked a little at his words, as though he had slapped her.
"Look, Steve, that's ridiculous. Money doesn't mean that much to me. It couldn't possibly affect my feelings toward you. It just isn't that important to me."
"Money, my dear, is like air. It's only important when you don't have it."
"Steve, I don't care about the damned money. I'll give it to you if you want."
He felt a sudden pounding in his chest. His pulse raced. Somehow, he managed to keep from betraying his feelings. He laughed shortly.
"I mean it," she said. "I've never considered it my money, anyway. It's our money. If it will make you feel better to have it legally yours, that's fine with me. You take care of it anyway."
He looked at her for a long time before he spoke.
"Do you mean that?"
"Yes!" There was a sudden eagerness in her voice, as though she felt for the first time that she had a chance of winning him over. Steve considered matters for a moment. He wondered just how far he dared to go. He decided to push his luck one more notch.
"It's no good, Jenny. I'm afraid I just don't trust you. No any more."
"Trust me! You won't have to trust me. You'll be in charge. Isn't that what you want?"
"Jenny, you'd start resenting me. It would be inevitable. Sooner or later you'd walk out on me. And when you did, you know as well as I do that everything would still be yours. The laws of the state of California are pretty plain on that matter. Community property, alimony, child support-"
"I'll sign papers relinquishing all of that. I mean it, Steve. If we break up, you'll have everything. Doesn't that prove that I mean what I'm saying? You'll have me where you want me. I won't dare get out of line."
"You can't sign away child support. Unless..."
"What? Unless what?"
"Forget it."
"Tell me?"
"Would you be willing to sign a paper to the effect that if we ever split up, for any reason at all, you'll relinquish all custody rights of Stevie?"
She looked at him in horror.
"No, I thought not," he said. "But why--? "
"Why not? If you really mean what you're saying, it shouldn't make any difference to you, Jenny. If you really plan to stay married to me."
"All right," she said. "If that's the way you want it, I'll sign that, too."
The attorney leaned across his desk and said, "Mrs. Wayne, this is your last chance. I'm asking you once more to reconsider. Are you sure you want to sign these papers? Once they're signed-"
"I've told you," Jenny said. "I know what I'm doing."
The lawyer sighed, pushed the papers over to her.
"Just a moment, please," Steve said. He turned to his own attorney. "You've examined these papers?"'
"Yes, sir. I have."
"And they're binding?"
"They're pure gold, Mr. Wayne."
"No loopholes?"
"Not a one."
"Okay." Steve leaned back in his chair. Jenny's attorney lifted a pen from a holder on his desk and handed it to her. She took it, stilled the shaking of her hand. She signed each copy of the document and gave it back to her attorney. Steve felt the tightness dissolving in his belly. It was done. He had made it. He hadn't really known how tense he was until the tension was gone.
Jenny's attorney separated the copies of the document, handed two copies to Steve's attorney. Steve and Jenny got up and left.
"Well," Jenny said, when they were home, "You are now married to a pauper. As of this moment I don't own a thing but the clothes on my back."
Steve took her in his arms and kissed her. She felt nice and warm against him, and her lips were soft and yielding.
Together, they walked upstairs to the bedroom.
They both quickly stripped, and when he saw her naked before him, Steve felt his pulse quicken with a desire so strong it took his breath away. He hadn't touched a woman since he'd walked out on her almost a week earlier. It had seemed like a wise idea to keep away from women until everything was signed, sealed and delivered. But it hadn't been easy.
Their naked bodies came together, and he lightly moved his hands over her body, stroking her, feeling her skin creep over her bones with the thrill of his touch. Her breath was coming in quick little pants now, and he felt his own speeding up. His cock was stiff and large for her, prodding her, pressed against her belly, and when she moved the tiniest bit he felt a shuddering flood of pleasure run through him.
He picked her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. He laid her on it and stood looking down at the open invitation of her body. Her legs were parted, her pussy open to him, and he lay down next to her, his hands playing over her breasts. He felt the nipples harden and come to life under his fingers.
She moaned with pleasure and threw her arm over his neck, pulling his head down to hers. She kissed him, and it was her tongue that sought out his, urgently probing into his mouth, sliding over his tongue, sending shots of pleasure through him like electric currents.
Steve slipped one hand down over her belly and abdomen to her cunt. He stroked it, feeling the juices flow to the surface, lubricating her, making her ready for him. He shifted his hand to her thighs, petting the soft flesh there, and her body quivered with a wave of ecstasy. She moaned again, and her kisses became more searching, more frantic.
Steve placed one leg between hers, nestling his thigh up into her crotch. She spread her legs wider. He moved his hands over her, petting her, stroking her, driving her into a frenzy of pleasure and desire. Then, when she was wild with it, her legs thrashing in passion, he rose above her and positioned himself.
Jenny's hands positioned themselves to accept him, guide him into her. He came down on her, feeling the thrill shoot through him as her tiny, soft hands took hold of his prick.
Then he was sliding into her, and he grunted with pleasure. His belly suddenly tightened, his heart racing with it.
He began his movements, striking a slow rhythm at first, letting it build, as hers built with it, and their bodies slapped together, their skin slick with sweat now. He felt her face against his, felt her breasts flattened under his chest. He could hear her voice as from a distance, babbling incoherent words intermingled with simple, animal sounds of pleasure so great that it approached pain. Her arms were tightly locked about his neck, clamping him to her.
The quickness of their movement rose with the pitch of the pleasure, and their bodies worked harder, the slapping of their movements growing closer together, as they drank deep of the pleasure, absorbed it, sopped it up, drew more and more of it into themselves, grew frantic with a hunger that grew with feeding, until their bodies were as one giant, pleasure machine, and their voices went up in unison, crying out in pleasure, and then he felt his body go rigid, his joints locking, his muscles tightening, until it seemed they would rip themselves apart.
When it was over, he rose and went into the bathroom and showered. When he came back Jenny was still lying on the bed, naked. She smiled at him and raised her arms. He went to her and kissed her. Then he went to the bureau and took out a T-shirt and pair of shorts. Jenny sat up and looked at him with bafflement.
"Where are you going?"
"Honey, I've let things slide for too long. I think I'd better get over to the school and look around. And then there are some other things that need looking out for."
"You mean you're going away tonight?"
"You don't want me to neglect anything, do you? I mean, we've done all right so far by following my judgment, Jenny. I don't think I'd better slack off now."
"Oh, darling, I thought we'd have tonight together. It's been so long."
He finished buttoning his shirt and selected a suit from the closet.
I'll try to get back soon, baby. You know how it is. Things pile up."
"Well, can I go with you, then?"
"I don't think it would be too good an idea, Jenny. You have all your clubs and functions here. And you'd be bored to distraction following me around."
"I wouldn't be bored at night."
"That's just it." He zipped up the pants of the suit and selected a twenty-five-dollar tie from a rack full of twenty-five-dollar ties. "You would be bored at night. When I get on business, I don't always make it back before midnight. And then I'm tired. A sexy blonde beside me in bed is definitely not what I need."
"Well, darn it!"
Steve kissed her again and put on his coat.
"I'll try to be back in a day or two, Jenny. And then we'll spend some time together. Okay?"
"Okay. You're the boss," she said ruefully. There were tears in her eyes. "Aren't you going to pack some clothes?"
"I still have the suitcase I took to the hotel with me. And most of the stuff is still clean. It's more than I'll need."
He drove to the school and called on Eva first thing. He arrived there in the morning, and she was sitting behind her desk, looking beautiful in a black sheath. She had changed her hair, and he liked it.
"Hello," she said without enthusiasm. "I figured it was about time for another of your visits."
"I didn't mean to neglect you, sweetheart. But I've been occupied with a very serious business matter." He told her all about what had occurred, leaving out the fact that he had gulled Jenny into the affair with Ronald in the first place. Such knowledge might be used as a counter-weapon against him some time, if he decided to use the photos to whip Eva into line. When he had finished the story, telling her about how Jenny had signed everything over to him and relinquished all rights to everything, including their son.
"Poor girl," Eva said with some feeling. "She's really in for a rough time now."
"Too bad about her. She should have kept her legs crossed when she was with that servant."
"I suppose so. But it still seems like a terrible thing to have to pay for one mistake the way she's going to be paying for this one the rest of her life."
"Yeah, I guess you'd say I'm in the driver's seat now. Of course, she can still walk out on me any time she wants, but if she does she leaves that house naked. And speaking of nakedness, Eva, I'm going to get a motel room somewhere around here. I'll call you and let you know where. I'm giving you advance warning so that you can set things up for tonight. Because I plan to have you in the motel room for quite a while. You look really elegant today."
"There's something I should tell you," she said, ignoring the compliment. "My husband is getting suspicious."
"That's your headache, baby. Quiet his suspicions."
"It could turn out to be your headache, too, Steve. If he finds out about us, you could find yourself in some trouble."
"Yeah, I'm really afraid of a cripple." Her lips tightened at the use of the word, and Steve smiled. "If he comes at me, I'll break his pencils and throw away his tin cup."
"Very funny. What I was thinking was that he might give your rich wife grounds for a divorce."
"Haven't you been paying attention? I don't have a rich wife any more. My wife has a rich husband. And she can have all the grounds she wants. I couldn't care less. Everything is mine, now. Finally, irreversibly mine."
"All right. I just thought you should know."
The woman under Steve writhed and screamed her pleasure, and Steve answered her in kind. The lights went off in his head, and he reached and passed his climax.
The woman lay on the bed while he dressed, and looked up at him with a faint smile on her lips. She was a brunette tall and willowy and with skin like ivory.
"Here," he said when he was dressed. "Buy yourself something nice." He put three fifty-dollar-bills on the bedside table. She looked at the bills and then at him, and managed a grateful smile.
He had been crude. She wasn't the kind of a girl you gave money to in such an obvious way after pronging her. She wasn't a hooker. She was just a girl who didn't mind doing some nice things for a thoughtful and generous man. The money should have been discreetly left in the bathroom, or put into her purse in a clean white envelope. Steve knew that, of course. That was why he had done it the way he had.
"Thank you, Mr. Wayne," she said, working hard to keep from looking away from him. "You're very generous."
"Think nothing of it." He picked up his coat and left the hotel room.
The girl hadn't been bad, he thought, as he rode the elevator down to the garage. Not bad at all. A secretary he had met in one of the offices in which he transacted business.
She thought her shit didn't stink, though. She made him ask three times before she consented to go out with him. He wouldn't bother to look her up again.
He drove home at a leisurely pace. It was past one a.m. when he got there. He left his car in front of the house and went inside.
"Well, hello," Jenny said from the bed when he walked into their bedroom.
"Oh. Hi. I didn't know whether you'd still be awake," he said.
"I thought I'd like to see you for a change."
"Yeah. Well, I've been busy. You know."
"How busy?"
"What do you mean?" He took off his coat and tossed it on the chair, then began prying open the buttons on his cuffs.
Jenny got out of bed and came to him. "Steve, I've heard some rumors lately. I've heard that you aren't spending all your time at business."
"Do the rumors happen to mention at what I am spending my time?" He peeled off the shirt and pulled his T-shirt over his head.
"Yeah they do. Steve, twice in the last few weeks I've heard from friends of mine that they've seen you with other women." She looked at him expectantly, as though waiting to see if he would deny the charges, or offer some explanation.
"Is that a fact?"
"Steve! Is it true?"
"Far be it from me to make your friends out to be liars, Jenny."
She looked horrified.
"How can you be so casual about it?"
"Why not? Sure. I've been screwing other women. And I intend to keep on doing it, too. You'd be surprised at the opportunities that present themselves when a man is rich enough."
"My God, Steve!" She began to cry. Steve dropped his pants to the floor and then his shorts and walked over to the bed.
"As a matter-of-fact," he said, crawling into the crisply-ironed sheets, "I just left one. A little secretary I met a couple of weeks ago. Pretty good lay, too. Not the best I've ever had, you understand, but I'd say she's about as good as you are. So you can understand that I'm pretty pooped right now. If you want to talk about this, we can talk about it tomorrow, eh, baby? Right now let's get some sleep."
"You don't think I'm going to get into that bed with you tonight?"
"I told you, honey, I'm all in tonight. I couldn't care less where you lay your sweet ass. But make no mistake about it. If I wanted you in this bed, you'd be in it all right."
"You know, Steve, there's a limit to how much a woman can take, even from you."
"Is that a fact? Is that a goddamned fact?" He threw the covers back and sat on the edge of the bed. "Well, let's just see how much you will take, Jenny." He rose and moved toward her. She stepped back. Her loosely tied robe parted a bit in front, and she pulled it closed. Steve moved forward with a quickness that overtook her in one stride. He grasped her arm and yanked her to him and slapped her face, hard, three times. She screamed with pain and surprise, and he took her shoulders in his hands and threw her against the wall so hard she bounced back to him. They were standing near her vanity, and Steve held her arm in an iron grip and sat down on the little bench in front of it. He pulled her down across his lap and pulled the hem of her robe up, exposing her ass. She recovered her senses finally, and began to kick. She tried to rise, but she was lying on her belly, the hardness of his thighs compressing her there, and her arms dangled loosely, unable to reach or exert any real pressure against the floor. Her face turned red as the blood rushed to her head.
Steve reached behind him and picked up a hair brush. It was a long handled one with semi-precious stones set into the back. He hefted it, getting the balance. Jenny managed to twist her head around far enough to see it, and she suddenly renewed her kicking.
"What do you think you're doing?" she yelled at him. Steve laughed.
"Think? I don't think I'm doing it, baby. I'm really doing it, wouldn't you say? I'm about to teach you some manners. I'm about to teach you to keep in your place."
He raised the brush and brought the hack of it down hard on her ass. Jenny cried out with pain and began to cry, as much from anger and humiliation as from pain. Steve laughed and raised the brush again and brought it down across the tender skin. This time she cried in earnest. He could feel her tears spilling onto his leg. He laughed once more.
"You son of a bitch!" Jenny shrieked. Steve hit her again, cracking her a good one this time. Her whole body jerked with it.
"Bastard! Bastard, bastard, bastard!"
He raised the brush and brought it down, then, without pause this time, and hit her again and again. She was screaming with it now, screaming from pain. The anger was forgotten.
"Steve! Please. Stop it, please. I can't stand it!"
"Oh, sure you can. You'd be surprised how much you can stand when you have to." He hit her a few more whacks.
"Steve, I can't. Please, please." Her voice was softer now, tireder, more hoarse from her screaming. Steve smacked her another four times, then stopped and let his arm dangle at his side for a moment.
"Boy, a man's arm can really get tired this way," he said in a cheerful voice. "I'll have to rest a minute. You just hang loose, baby." She cried and whimpered a little, but she wasn't struggling any more. Steve waited a moment while the heaviness drained from his arm, then raised the brush and started the spanking again. Jenny cried out with each stroke. Her ass was a cherry red by now, and he could see the little dents in it from the jewels in the brush.
"You had enough?" he asked finally.
"Yes. Please."
"Then I want an apology."
"A what?"
"An apology. For butting into things that don't concern you. I want you to say you're sorry."
"You can go to hell before-"
Steve hit her again, three times in rapid succession.
"All right," she screamed. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I apologize."
"That's not a very nice tone of voice," Steve said. "I want you to apologize nicely. In a nice, soft tone."
"You son of a bitch! I hate your-"
He gave her another three whacks, cutting off her flow of words and wringing a cry from her.
"I apologize," she said again, holding her voice down through an obvious effort of will. "I'm sorry. Please forgive me.
"I apologize, darling," he corrected her. Jenny hesitated a moment, struggling with herself.
"I apologize, darling," she said finally, working hard to keep the sarcasm from her voice. Steve laughed and dropped the brush to the floor. He slapped her ass lightly with his palm and she yelped. Her skin was tender, and felt hot to the touch. Steve yanked her to an upright position. He stood up.
"Well, what do you know," he said. "I've got a hard-on. And here I thought I was all through for the night."
She made a run for the door, but he was quicker than she was, even without the soreness slowing her down. He reached her in three strides, grabbed her arm and jerked her back. She kicked at him, and he dodged, laughing.
"You know, someone would think you didn't love your hubby." He yanked the robe from her body and threw her onto the bed. She cried out as her ass hit the spread. She tried to rise, but Steve threw himself on her and pressed her back with his weight.
She struggled fruitlessly beneath him, the shaking and wiggling of her body only serving to excite him more. Steve drove one leg between her thighs, forcing her legs apart. He moved the other leg in with it, and she was spraddled, her pussy open to him.
She put her hands on his shoulders and tried to push him away, and he laughed at her pitiful efforts. He rose above her and centered his cock with one hand. Jenny cried out with humiliation and frustration, trying to avoid him in a panic as he came down onto her. He drove his prick into her like a ramrod, moving into her with a sudden burst of force that brought a cry of pain from her.
He stuck to his rhythm, moving above her like an enormous bird of prey, and she cried with pain and humiliation.
She tried to keep still, to give him a dead piece, but she couldn't hold back. Her own passion was too strong to be denied, and before long she was responding to him, her body moving with his, and the strangled cries of pleasure forced their way from her throat. When he hit his climax, she hit hers too, and then they lay beside each other, each of them exhausted, crying.
"I'm not going to leave you, Steve," she said finally. "Not because of the money, but because of Stevie. But I won't sleep with you, either. I'm going to have my things moved into one of the guest rooms tomorrow."
Steve took one of her nipples between his thumb and forefinger and pinched it until she cried out.
"Haven't you learned your lesson yet?" he asked. "You're not moving into any guest room, sweetheart.
You re my wife, and you're not going to humiliate me that way in front of the servants. You're going to sleep right here with me, and whenever I want you to, you're going to plank."
"Oh no I'm not! If you lay a hand on me again, I'll ... " She trailed off.
"You'll what? Leave me? Go ahead. But just don't forget, sweetie pants. Our son stays here. And so does all that lovely money. Remember when we made this deal? You said I'd have you right where I wanted you. Well, I have. Now maybe some day I'll get tired of you, Jenny. And when that happens I'll kick your ass out. But until then, I don't think you're going to do any walking. And if you try to move into another room, I won't just beat your ass, I'll peel it off of you in strips."
"You're such a brave man."
Steve laughed.
"What you think of me couldn't matter less, baby. The important thing is I'm holding all the high cards in this game, and I'm making up the rules." She was silent for a long moment.
"All right, Steve," she said finally. "I guess you're in the driver's seat. For the time being." Steve laughed. "Don't hold your breath, cunt."
Steve knew that after that night he would have to guard himself against Jenny. Not that she was in any position to hurt him. It was just that he knew she would hurt him if she got the chance.
He hired a private detective to keep an eye on her. It would be a good idea, he knew, if he kept track of all her actions. He thought that she might be making preparations for some jab at him. She might try to get her hands on part of the money, then take Stevie and skip the country. Something like that. The detective found nothing of that sort. What he did find surprised Steve, although when he thought about it later, it wasn't so surprising. Inevitable, really.
"She's sleepin' with some guy," the detective told him one afternoon in a bar. "Don't know who the guy is, because I've been followin' her, not him. You want me to put another man on the case and tail him the next time they meet?"
"How do you know she's sleeping with him?"
"Well, let me put it this way, Mr. Wayne. They meet at cocktail lounges and bars and such like that. Then they go to hotels and register as man and wife. Then they go up the the one room they registered in, and they stay there alone together for two, three hours. Now, what they do while they're in that hotel room I really couldn't say. I mean not from personal observation."
"Put on the extra man. Find out who he is."
"Yes sir, I sort of thought you'd want us to do that."
12
THAT NIGHT HE FOUND HE: IN THEIR BEDROOM. She was sitting at her vanity, and when he came in she looked at him in the mirror. She didn't say anything. They seldom spoke to each other any more except when it was necessary.
"Good evening," he said.
She didn't answer.
"Did you have a pleasant day today?"
"Pleasant enough. Why are you suddenly interested in my day?"
"Well, I just wondered what you do to occupy yourself all day while I'm working."
"You know perfectly well what I do, Steve."
"Yeah. You inspect hotel ceilings."
She looked at him in the mirror. He was standing directly behind her now, his hands near her shoulders. She looked at his reflection for a long moment, then shrugged her shoulders.
"So you know. I guess you had to find out sooner or later. What are you going to do about?"
"I could divorce you. Adultery is grounds, you know."
"Who are you to complain about adultery?"
"I'm the man who holds all the cards and makes up all the rules. Remember? Well, I'm making a new rule now. The new rule, Jenny, reads as follows: I can screw anything in skirts, but I don't like you playing around. So stop it."
"Go to hell. We don't have a marriage and you know it. I have a right to find some happiness in life, Steve. And if I can find a few hours a month of it with another man, that's none of your business."
"No? Well, I think I'll make it my business, dear heart." He stepped back with one foot and hooked the toe of his other shoe in one of the legs of the bench on which she was perched. He jerked the foot back, and the bench spilled to the floor. Jenny went down with a thump. Steve grabbed her arm and hauled her to her feet.
"Steve, no, please-"
"You haven't learned your place yet, sweetheart. So I'm going to have to give you another little lesson in the pecking order around here."
He brought his hand back and slapped her hard across the face. Her head spun around so hard he heard a cracking sound. Steve folded his hand into a fist and brought it up into her belly, and she bent over double, unable to scream for lack of breath. He brought the fist up into her face, and she went over backward, landing on the floor. When she looked up at him, he saw there was a huge, ugly bruise on her cheek. She moved away from him, scooting along the floor, her face contorted with fear.
"Don't worry, Jenny," he said unevenly. He was a little winded. "I'm not going to smack you again. Not this time. But I'd better not get any more reports about you playing in traffic. Because next time I'm going to take the gloves off."
It was almost a week later that he got a call from the detective to come to a bar on the strip and meet him. The call actually came from a woman. The detective's secretary, she said. Steve hadn't known the man had a secretary. Oh, well, he thought. Maybe he's been able to hire one with the fee I've been paying him. The thought made Steve smile. It was great to be rich.
He found the bar and went in and took a seat in a booth. The detective hadn't arrived yet, so Steve ordered a Scotch on the rocks and sat sipping it while he waited. Suddenly a shadow fell across the booth. Steve looked up.
A large man stood looking down at him with a tentative smile.
"Excuse me," he said. "But aren't you Steve Wayne?"
"That's right. Have we met? I don't think I-"
"No, no, we've never met Mister Wayne. But I've seen your picture in the papers a couple of times. I hope you don't mind my barging in on you, but it's just that I used to be a very good friend of your wife's." He slid into the booth across from Steve.
"Well, actually, I am expecting someone very shortly, Mr-"
"Oh, well, I'll leave when your friend shows up, of course. But I've been wanting to meet the guy who beat my time with Jenny."
"Beat your time?"
The big man shrugged and smiled.
"Well, I used to take her to proms and things like that when we were kids. She saw me off when I joined the Army. Stuff like that. I had a real case on her. Great gal, Jenny."
"Yes. Great gal. How long has it been since you've seen her?" Steve looked at his watch and then at the door. Where in the hell could that guy be?
"Oh, a little more than a week."
"That's nice. Huh? A week?" Steve looked across at the man. He had a cigarette in his hand, about half-smoked down, and now he reached across the table casually and pressed the lit end of it against the back of Steve's hand. Steve jerked his hand away and jumped out of the booth. "What the hell are you doing, you dumb son of a-" A fist smashed into his mouth. The big man was suddenly out of the booth, and Steve hadn't even noticed him getting up. The force of the blow knocked him back a step, and the stranger was right with him, bringing his other fist up hard into Steve's belly. Steve bent double and hugged his wounded midsection. The man pulled him upright and brought his fist forward again, smashing it into Steve's cheek so hard Steve thought his neck would break from the force of it.
Steve tried to raise his arms to defend himself, but he could never seem to get his guard to where the other man's fists were. A fist struck him on the jaw, then another, moving too fast to see, hit his right ear and knocked him to the floor. He lay there, trying to grasp at all the painful spots on his body at once.
"Get up, you dirty cocksucker," the man said.
"Christ," Steve mumbled. A foot crashed into his temple, knocking his head to the side.
"Get up, little man. Or I'm gonna scramble your brains for you."
Steve climbed painfully to his feet. The other man pushed him back against the wall and began working on his belly, blow after vicious blow pounding Steve's midsection until he felt the vomit rise up into his throat. The other man stepped back and let him fall to the floor. Steve vomited, the puke rushing up to his mouth and spilling across the front of his shirt and suit.
"I guess that ll do for now," the big man said. He was standing over Steve, his hands still curled into fists. He wasn't even winded. "My name is John Gill," he said "John Heywood Gill. I live in Coldwater Canyon, just so you won't have any trouble finding me if you want to. In case you haven't figured it out yet, bastard, I'm the guy who's been having an affair with your wife. And I'm going to keep right on having an affair with her. And you're not going to do a thing about it. Jenny doesn't want to leave you because she says you'd ruin your kid without her around to keep some rein on him. Hey." He nudged Steve with his toe. "You listening?" Steve mumbled something meaningless.
"I don't particularly like crumbs who go around beating up women, Wayne. In my book there isn't much that's lower than a wife-beater. So if I hear you've laid a hand on Jenny again, I'm going to get rough next time. Now, I don't mean you just don't beat her, friend. I mean you don't touch her for any reason. Because if you try, I'm going to take you apart right down to the last fingernail paring."
He turned to the bartender, who had come out from behind the bar.
"Thanks for the use of the place, Tim. He's picking up the tab." He walked out of the bar with quick, purposeful steps. The bartender walked over to the booth and picked up the glass from which Steve had been drinking. He threw the remainder of the contents on the floor, wrapped the empty glass in a bar towel he was carrying, and swung it against the table. The glass made a muffled sound as it shattered. He carried it to the bar, leaned across it, and dropped towel and glass into a waste can. Then he turned and pulled Steve to his feet. He did it with disconcerting ease. Steve grunted with soreness.
"The drinks are on me, bastard," the bartender said coldly. "Don't ever let me catch you around my place again."
He didn't go home until late. His face was a battered mess, and he didn't want the servants to ask him any questions. Tomorrow, he thought. Tomorrow III have the strength to think of something to tell them.
He stumbled into the bedroom and switched on the light and fell across the bed with his clothes on.
He awakened some time later and looked around the room. It took his mind a moment to register that something was strange about the place, and another moment to realize what it was.
Jenny's closets were open and empty.
He thrust himself up stiffly from the bed and went and looked stupidly into the long, shallow wardrobes. A couple of wire hangars dangled from the rod, like skeletal remains of the clothing that had been there such a short time before. He could smell the sachet Jenny used.
He turned and stamped into the hall and began moving through it, throwing doors open and looking into the guest rooms.
He found her in the last room, as far from the master bedroom as she could get. She was sitting in an armchair running an emery board across her nails.
"Well, hello," she said casually. "I wondered when I'd be seeing you."
Steve strode to her and grabbed her arms, hauling her to her feet. She looked startled for a moment, but not frightened. And then her eyes regained their former coolness.
"Take your goddamned hands off of me," she said coldly. Steve's hands slipped from her arms. "There," she said. "That's better. Now don't ever do that again, Steve."
"Why, you little-"
"Watch it, little man. You're not quite as good-looking as you used to be, you know. And next time I have a feeling John will really let loose on you."
"You ... know?"
"Of course. I'm the one who put John up to it. He really gave it to you from the looks of your face. And that just warms the cockles of my heart, Steve."
"You put him up to it?" Steve was dumfounded. He hadn't thought that Jenny was capable of such a brutal act. She laughed at his astonishment.
"That's right, Steve. You see, I learn quickly, once I start. I didn't really like using John that way. John and I are very fond of each other. But I had to figure out some way to keep you from putting your filthy hands on me again. So I told John about that beating you gave me the other night, and then I let him prod me into telling him about the other time you smacked me around. And if he got the idea that this has been going on regularly, well, that's really not my fault, is it?"
"Why, you dirty little bitch!" Jenny laughed.
"What's the matter, Steve? Can't you take some of your own medicine?" The smile left her eyes, draining away in a second. "I don't like being this way. I'd rather be the way I used to be. And maybe I can be that way again some day. But not now, Steve. Not while you're around. So you just keep away from me from now on if you don't want John to finish what he started today. All I have to do is tell him you smacked me around again. I could tell him that whether it's true or not. He trusts me. The way I used to trust you. But I don't want to sink completely to your level, Steve. So I won't lie to him. But if you ever touch me again, I promise you I'll have him cripple you. Now get out of here."
Halfway down the hall he thought of Eva. Yes, Eva. She was one person who couldn't defy him, The one woman he could still dominate. He could get comfort from Eva. And he could take it out on her if he felt like it.
When Eva saw his face she cried out-in shock and surprise.
"What happened?"
"Shut up and close the door," he said. 'It's none of your business."
"It looks as though someone-"
He strode across the motel room and hit her, openhanded, across the face. She cried out and fell back against the wall next to the door. Steve slammed the door and turned to her.
"Get your clothes off. You've got a busy night ahead of you."
She stood rubbing her cheek for a moment. Steve made a quick move toward her and she jerked away from him and began opening the snaps and zippers and buttons that kept her dressed. In a moment she was naked. She stood trembling, looking across the space between them with fearful eyes.
Steve yanked open the sash of his robe and shrugged it off. He grabbed Eva's arm roughly and threw her to the bed. She bounced violently on it once, and then he was atop her. There were no preliminaries this time. He thrust his hard cock into her immediately, took her cold. She cried out with pain as he tore into her, and her body stiffened, her muscles pulling taut as he began his movement in her.
Little cries of pain tore from her throat throughout the act. Steve pinched and bit her, taking out his pain and frustration on the one person who was helpless to resist him.
The pleasure mounted swiftly, and he made no effort to hold himself back, but let himself come, flooding her belly with his sperm, his body shaking with little fits of ecstasy.
He got up off the bed and got a cigarette and lit it. Eva lay looking up at him with terror in her eyes, as though she had suddenly found herself in this room with a stranger. Steve looked back at her savagely, daring her to complain about the treatment he had given her.
"You've been getting away with murder lately," he said. "I've been too kindhearted with you. From now on you're going to get some real lessons in obedience, bitch."
"Steve, what are you talking about? What have I done? I've always done what you told me."
He walked to her and pulled her off the bed and shook her as hard as he could. He could hear her teeth clack together. Her hair billowed around her head like an auburn cloud. Steve shoved her back hard, and she fell to the bed again. She was crying.
'T don't like back talk, cunt. That's lesson number one. And today when I told you to come here you gave me some static."
"I only said that my husband is getting more suspicious. I don't want him to find out about us, Steve. That wouldn't do either of us any good."
"It wouldn't hurt me a bit. As for you, I couldn't care less. Now I've told you before, that cripple is your worry. I've got first call on that sweet ass of yours, baby. He comes in a poor second. You've never really understood that, have you? Well, I'm going to prove it. I'm going to drive it home to you, right now. Get dressed."
She looked at him uncomprehendingly. Steve thrust her to where her clothes lay in a heap on the floor.
"Goddamn you, get dressed!"
She put on her clothes, her face streaked with tears. When she was dressed he made her fix her makeup. They went into the cocktail lounge that was attached to the motel. Steve thrust her into a booth and went to the bar and ordered drinks for them. He took his and circulated, walked around the dimly lighted lounge while Eva sat alone in the booth.
A man came into the lounge and sat at the bar. Steve heard him order a bourbon and water. He stepped up beside him and shoved a bill at the bartender.
"I'll get it, friend," he said.
The man looked up in surprise. He was a short pudgy man with a shiny, bald head.
"Well, thank you," he said. "That's real neighborly of you.
"Why don't you come over to the booth with me and the lady," Steve suggested. "We could use some company."
Steve slid into the booth across from Eva and remained near the front. The bald headed man had no choice but to slip in next to Eva. The booth was narrow, and their hips touched.
"You sure I ain't intruding on you and your wife?" he asked.
"Oh, she's not my wife," Steve said cheerfully. "She's just a woman I take to motels occasionally." Eva and the man looked at him in surprise.
"Oh. Well. Lucky guy," the man said, and gulped down his drink. He started to rise.
"You really think so?" Steve asked. The man hesitated long enough to answer him.
"Well, yeah, sure. She's a beautiful woman." He seemed to realize all at once that they were speaking of Eva as though she couldn't hear them.
"Beggin' your pardon, ma'am," he said, with a nod in her direction. But Eva probably didn't even hear him. She was looking hard at Steve.
"Yeah, I guess she is at that," Steve said in the same friendly tone. "She's a good piece of ass, too. But I wouldn't say I'm any more lucky than a lot of other guys on that score. Eva is a very obliging girl. Aren't you, Eva?"
She didn't answer, but her gaze dropped to the top of the table.
"Look, I don't know what's going on-" The man started to get up again.
"Nothing's going on, friend," Steve said. "I'm just telling it like it is. Eva is very accommodating. In fact, I'll bet she'd be only too happy to accommodate you. Wouldn't you, honey?"
Eva looked at him again in horror.
"Steve! What-"
"You'd be very happy to do that, wouldn't you, baby? If I asked you to, I mean."
The other man looked at first one of them and then the other. He seemed to be torn between embarrassment and interest, as though he were wondering whether what Steve was saying were true.
"You'd like to screw a pretty little thing like her, now wouldn't you?"
"Well, look-"
"She feels even better than she looks, too. Go ahead, friend. Take a feel. She has nice legs. Nice, full thighs. Grab a handful." The man was sweating. He looked at Steve closely in the dim light, as though he couldn't figure out whether he meant what he was saying. His hand, resting on the table, twitched a little
"Eva," Steve said, "take the man's hand and put it in your lap." He looked at her hard for a moment, and finally she reached out blindly and took the man's hand in hers. She thrust it down beneath the table. The man sweated even more profusely, and his breath came in ragged puffs.
"Now, was I lying?" Steve asked.
"No, neighbor. You weren't lying."
"Prime stuff, huh? Now, you'd like to prong her, wouldn't you?"
"Yeah, sure, but ... "
"But?"
"What's the tariff?"
"I'm no pimp," Steve said coldly. "I'm not selling the lady's ass. I'm giving it away. I just thought you might like to sample her. Of course if you'd rather not..."
"No offense, buddy. You can't blame a guy for thinking-"
"I guess not. Come on." Steve slid out of the booth. "I'll walk you two lovebirds to the room."
The man stood up, and, after a brief hesitation, Eva followed. Steve led the way, walking at a leisurely pace toward the room. Eva was behind him, next to the other. She stepped forward, coming abreast of Steve.
"Steve, don't do this to me," she whispered. "Please. You've proved your point. I won't talk back to you any more. I promise. But don't make me do this, please."
"Eva, I'm surprised at you. We can't back out now. With that fellow's pants on fire. That wouldn't be very thoughtful, now would it?"
"Steve, please!"
"Shut up, Eva. You'd better get used to this, because I intend to lend you around quite a bit. Until I get you thoroughly housebroken."
They reached the room, and Steve pulled the key from his pocket and opened the door. He pushed it inward and smiled broadly at the man.
"Well, here you are, folks. Enjoy yourselves. Take your time, friend. Keep her as long as you want. She frenches very well. You might want to give her a try in that department."
The man stepped into the room and turned to look back at Eva. His face and head were slick with sweat, and his pants hung baggily from his belt. Eva looked at him for a moment, and then threw a pleading glance at Steve. Steve kept the same bland smile on his face. She dropped her gaze and started forward. She put one foot inside of the room, then stopped. She stood like that for a moment, and Steve felt annoyance well up in him.
"Go ahead, honey," he said. "Go with the man."
"You go to hell!" She pulled back, spun about and ran across the parking lot. Steve stood there a moment, dumfounded, then followed her. He caught up to her at her car. He twisted her around.
"Take your hands off me,'" she commanded. "Or I'll scream. I swear I will." She meant it. He could see that in her eyes. His hands slipped from her arms.
"You leave now, Eva, and those pictures will be in the mail tomorrow morning. I promise you."
"I don't care!"
"Well, I hope you mean that, because they will be, just as sure as shit stinks."
Eva slid into the car seat and started the engine, racing it brutally.
"Eva." Steve leaned forward, his hands on the door of the car. "When you threatened to scream a moment ago, I could tell by looking at you that you meant it. Now you look at me." She turned to him, and he returned her gaze coldly, his face as hard as granite. "I promise you that if you drive away right now those pictures will be mailed tomorrow morning."
"I believe you," she said. She threw the car into reverse and backed out of the space fast. Steve jerked back to keep from being hit by the car as she turned it. She dragged the lever down into the drive position before it had come to a stop and gunned the engine. The car leapt forward, leaving a strip of rubber on the asphalt.
"Okay, bitch," Steve said quietly. "If that's the way you want it, that is the way it's going to be."
He started back toward the cocktail lounge. The bald man watched him sadly from the motel room door.
Steve drank until he was thoroughly drunk, and then got into his car and drove away from the motel. He didn't know just where he was going, but he wanted to get away from that place.
Eva, he thought. You dirty tramp.
He drove to the school and let himself in with his master key. Eva's office looked strange, dark as it was, with no one in it. The secretary's typewriter huddled on its metal table, wrapped in its plastic shroud. He went on into the office itself, slammed the door behind him. He'd give her one last chance. He'd call her up and give her a chance to go through with it. Now that she'd had time to cool off, maybe she was willing to be more reasonable. He'd screw her here in her office, and let her blow him, too.
The lamp on her desk was lit, which surprised him. He walked to the desk and started to pick up the telephone when he noticed a sheet of blue stationery lying on the blotter. It was wrinkled, as though someone had crumpled it and smoothed it out again. It was covered with writing, and Steve recognized Eva's hand.
My Darling, I hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive me for this. Taking the easy way out, I think they call it. Believe me, dearest, it's the only way out.
Even now I can't go into the reasons. I don't know how much you've been able to figure out for yourself, but I'm sure you haven't believed all the
Try to believe that I wasn't as bad as things may make me seem, darling. And please believe that I loved you. And that in the most important and fundamental way, I've always been faithful to you. Good-bye.
Your adoring wife, Eva
Steve looked at the note for a long time, trying to make his mind work, trying to figure out what it meant and how it had gotten here. Then he heard a noise across the darkened office, from the region of the couch.
A man was coming across the room. He was a slight man, with one leg twisted like a gnarled tree. He moved laboriously, leaning on a cane.
"Hello, Wayne," he said in a steel-hard voice. And then his hand came up, and Steve saw for one stupefied second that there was a gun in it, a Service .45 automatic, dull and scarred, with bluing worn off at the edges. "Good-by, Wayne," the man said.
