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Box Boy ....(93k)    by Cliff Kelly

INTRODUCTION

Like any proper success story, the saga of Perry Clark starts at the bottom, with hustling hero Perry a box boy in a supermarket. But by the time the reader joins his climb up the ladder of success, pushing cans and stuffing boxes have become merely a convenient cover for his real occupation. Boyish good looks and ample virility have become his real stock in trade, and supermarket aisles a convenient place for meeting the love-starved housewives who are his real source of income.

But Perry soon tires of "tract-house dames." Whatever their personal charms, none of them can provide him with money in sufficient quantity to supply him with the really good things of life.

So, as a successful small comer grocer might move up to the carriage trade, Perry moves on to Acapulco and the big money. All his schemes work beautifully. Nothing goes wrong.

Except, somehow, that everything is going wrong. For, like other captains of industry who bury their softer impulses in the pursuit of money, Perry find the honey of success turning to ashes in his mouth. For one thing, attractive ladies with normal taste rarely require paid service. So the ladies with "big money" are both less attractive and freakier than the lonesome little "tract-house dames." Also they are, by virtue of their wealth, accustomed to commanding. They want service for their money, and they want things done their way.

Of course, a man can always have a little fun on his own time. Like a tycoon who pours out his suppressed desires and rages on the golf course, Perry takes up a hobby. Not very surprisingly, his hobby is girls. And since he must earn his money exercising his male charms on ladies in their declining years most of the time, when he wants to relax he likes them young, the younger the better. For a man with money in a poor country this is not impossible to arrange. And, since he must constantly obey the whims of his customers, when he is indulging his hobby he wants to command, to command absolutely. To command, if need be, brutally.

All this, of course, does things to our hero's character. As a small-time con man, Perry Clark is not wholly contemptible. It's un-likely anyone, in the classic phrase, would want a sister to marry him, nor would it be particularly wise to loan him money. But his sins are venial. Like the used-car salesman who sets back a speedometer now and then, or the realtor who conveniently forgets a drainage problem in singing the praises of a house, Perry is not out to hurt anybody-he is just doing what seems to him necessary to make a living.

But he gets caught up in the momentum of his own greed. He can no longer afford to be concerned with the feelings of his customers, except insofar as he can exploit them to his own advantage. He wants what he can get out of them financially. Like a businessman on the way up who constantly revises his circle of friends, dropping out those who are bad for his image, replacing them with those who are more prestigious or offer him better contacts within the financial power-structure, Perry finds that his girls-both the customers and the sources of amusement-become less and less important to him as people. As he gets more successful, he gets progressively lonelier and more brutal.

Lord Acton observed that all power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. By the time Perry's style of life catches up with him, not too much is left of the affable smalltime con-man who was capable of genuine passion and genuine pity. In tycoon or paid stud, the single-minded pursuit of success seems to exact a certain price. In a country which values material success as much as mid-century America does, this engrossing novel should twitch a few sensitive nerve-endings.

Karl Otto Pappenfus, Ph.D. Minneapolis, Minnesota April, 1969

ONE

The familiar tingling sensation at the nape of his neck told him that somebody was watching him from somewhere in the market. He continued putting the cans of vegetable soup on the shelf before very carefully looking around.

She was at the end of the aisle and she was staring at him hungrily. As soon as she realized he had caught her studying him, the woman averted her attention and pretended to be searching for an item on the shelves.

Perry Clark turned back to the soup cans with a sly grin. Well, he thought, here we go again! The same old routine! Glancing at her from time to time, he critically eyed her face and figure. Not too bad. About thirty-five, maybe. Nice set of tits. Tiny waist. Hips that don't quit. And those legs look pretty good for a doll her age. Wonder what she looks like under all that make-up? Probably a hell of a lot plainer and less sophisticated. He watched her begin moving slowly toward him, her hips swaying with slightly exaggerated motion as she pushed the shopping cart down the aisle, her attention fixed upon the shelves.

Past experience had taught him that it was always cool to let them make the first move. That way, later on, he could always remind them that they had shown interest in him. He relaxed, intent upon getting the soup cans into very neat rows.

Stopping behind him, she cleared her throat.

"Excuse me," she said in a husky voice. "But could you tell me where I can find the chili-chili con carne?"

Clark looked straight up into her pale blue eyes, giving her his most intense boyish smile, knowing the effect that his handsomeness and virility was having upon her. She almost winced with the impact of his physical appeal. It, too, was a familiar experience. He slowly stood up, letting her see that he towered over her.

"Why, sure! Second table over, lady." He let his eyes openly run up and down her body so she would have no doubts that he found her attractive. "Want me to get it for you?"

"Oh, I don't want to put you to any-"

"No trouble! Not for a beautiful lady! I'll be glad to get the chili for you!"

She turned coy. "Well, aren't you sweet!"

Heading for the shelf containing the chili, he heard her right at his heels and he just hoped the store manager wasn't digging this action. Finding the chili, he held up two different brands. She nodded toward one of the cans and he put it gently into the cart, looking straight into her eyes. She flushed with self-consciousness.

"Oh, shucks I" he said, feigning disappointment.

"What's the matter?"

"I just noticed your wedding ring. Why is it that all the really gorgeous dolls already belong to somebody else?" He grinned wickedly. "Hope you'll forgive me for being a little interested."

"Well, you are sweet!" She giggled, delighted, a hand going up to smooth the dyed, blonde hair. "And just how do you know that I don't find you kinda nice, too?"

"Really?" He lowered his voice. "That's just my luck. Always finding the right girl with a wedding-ring already on her hand. It's not fair!"

"How do you know-" she preened the short-cut thick hair and smiled, looking away. "-that I'm working at being married?"

"Hadn't thought of that," he admitted.

"Besides, I'm probably too old for a fellow your age-even if you are handsome enough to be on TV!"

He chuckled. "Don't let the face fool you. It may only look eighteen or nineteen but I'm really a lot older than you might think. It can be a real pain, too, when I try to buy a drink without showing my ID. I'm actually twenty-seven." He watched the effect of this half truth upon her. She seemed to relax and become even more interested.

"Well, imagine that! You certainly don't look more than nineteen, that's for true!" She took a pack of cigarettes from her purse, offering him one. Refusing it with a shake of his head, Clark dug his lighter from a shirt pocket, holding its flame at the tip of her cigarette.

"We're not allowed to smoke on duty," he explained. "We have to practice all our vices on our own time!"

She laughed gaily.

Then she stepped closer, smiling up at him with a raised eyebrow. "Would it shock you to know that I've wanted to meet you for a couple of weeks now?"

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yep. Been smitten with the sight of you ever since I first saw you working here. But I figured you probably would laugh me right out of the store if I said anything to you."

"A doll like you?" He grinned, shaking his head. "Well, since it's confession time, I might as well admit that I've seen you every time you've come into the store. And if it wasn't for the policy about getting chummy with customers, I'd have tried to get to know you long before this. Oh, by the way, my name's Perry Clark." He extended his hand and she reached for it with a small, chubby hand that was warm and soft.

"Debra Green, Perry. Call me Debby." Her eyes flashed provocatively, going down to where his tight pants bulged with his genitals. "And what are we going to do about becoming better acquainted?"

He gestured toward her ring. "Are you married or separated or something?"

Caution and a tinge of anxiety appeared on her squarish face. "Well, let's just say that will take some explaining-when we've found the right time and place for explanations without putting your job in jeopardy. Okay?"

He nodded, grinning again. "You just name the time and place, Debby! I'm all for getting much better acquainted!"

"D-Do you live alone?" she asked in a very soft tone, glancing nervously about as she spoke. "It might be better if we went to your place."

"Yeah, I got a pad."

"That all right with you, Perry? I'll explain everything later."

"Sure." He scribbled his apartment's address on a page of the tiny notebook he carried in his shirt pocket, handing it to her and watching her stuff it quickly into her purse. "Just don't go bringing any angry husbands or brothers around. Okay?"

She winked at him. "It's a deal. I'll just bring myself and maybe some goodies. About ten?"

"Ten is cool," he agreed. "I can hardly wait," she whispered, pushing the cart away and giving him a last, hungry up and-down look that told him exactly how much of a yen she really had for him.

A sound behind him startled Clark. Turning, he found Gopher Face, the market manager, standing a few feet distant with a suspicious expression on his rodent-like features.

"And just what was all that about?" he demanded. "I've been watching you and the lady standing there gabbing your heads off for the last ten minutes. Care to tell me why you have to spend so much time with the customer?"

Clark gave him the boyish grin. "Aw, she used to go to school with my oldest sister, and she recognized me-and was asking about my sister. I kept telling her I'd get in trouble, visiting on store time but she's pretty gabby, sir. Awfully sorry. It' won't happen again."

The suspicion in the older man's face melted into irritation. "You bet it won't, Clark. If I catch you goofing off again-you'll be looking for a new job. Remember that!"

"Yes, sir!" Clark tried to look frightened.

Watching the pompous, fat-assed Gopher Face waddle away toward the checkstands, Clark felt an immense contempt for the man. But he knew that if he expected to operate successfully as he planned, he would have to restrain his inner feelings and make every effort to get along with the clown. Returning to the half-emptied carton of soup cans where he'd left it in the aisle, he resumed transferring the cans from the carton onto the shelf. As he worked his mind wandered back over the last few places in which he had operated.

Looking younger than his real age it had never been difficult getting jobs as box-boy in markets. Somewhere along the line he had stumbled onto the fact that many women customers-especially some of the younger, married ones-were lonely enough or dissatisfied enough to find him desirable and often went on the make for him, given the slightest encouragement. It wasn't long before he had been having sexual affairs with one or more women at the same time. Then he made still another discovery. These love-starved women could be sources of money. More money, in fact, than he would ever earn in his capacity of box-boy. Possessing no ambition and detesting work, he suffered no craving to be an assistant-manager or striving to work his way to the higher positions that almost every supermarket offered those willing to work their way up from the lower job classifications.

For Clark, a market was simply a place in which to make contact with women who would give him all the tail he wanted-and money that he conned out of them with one phony story or another. He had made mistakes along the way but he had gradually learned how to maintain going affairs with as many as three women at the same time-and this had been unbelievably profitable.

The best part about it was his freedom to just take a walk when the time came-and it always did-that he was tired of the particular woman he was sleeping with and getting money from, merely quitting his market job and leaving town. For the past three years he had been moving from city to city, operating in this fashion and living like a very fat cat. The late model sports car he drove to work was proof that his system worked like magic. So were the expensive clothes in the closet of his modern, high-rent apartment. Since he made sure that his victims always gave him cash, he only paid income tax on his market salaries.

Placing the last can of soup on the shelf, he glanced at his watch-a very expensive gold one with diamonds inlaid around its face, a gift from an earlier victim-and saw it was almost lunch time. The sudden remembrance that he had a date at a nearby motel with the little housewife who had picked him up a few weeks earlier brought him quickly to his feet. Swiftly carrying the empty carton back into the storerooms, he clocked out for his lunch hour, hurrying through the rear exit to where his gleaming car was parked. A few moments later he was driving toward the motel where he knew Mae Williams was probably awaiting him.

She lay on the bed, her naked body pale against the violet-tinted sheets. A leggy, busty woman in her late twenties whose triangle of pubic hair perfectly matched the long, thick honey-colored hair framing her oval-shaped face on the pillow, proclaiming her undeniably as a real blonde.

Greenish-grey eyes stared up at Clark while he swiftly undressed beside the bed and the smile curving her delicately molded lips was wickedly inviting. When he stood nudely, draping his pants over the back of a chair, she eyed his half-erect penis and licked her lips.

"Hurry up, lover," she said in an urgent tone. "I've wanted you ever since I woke-up this morning!"

"That a fact?" he grinned, sliding onto the bed and taking her warm body into his arms as they pressed closely together. She moaned with desire, undulating her hips, grinding her belly against his and gripping him tightly with her slender hands. "We can't make a production of it, baby. Not enough time. I was almost late getting back yesterday, and Gopher Face is really on my ass these days."

"Stop talking and take me!" Her whispered words were throaty, indistinct with passion. Her long legs opened, lifting high and he positioned himself between the satin-smoothness of her inner thighs, feeling his organ stiffen to full erection. When the tip of it lightly touched the lips of her vulva, she moaned again. Suddenly she arched her back, bringing herself against him and the head of his throbbing shaft penetrated the moist, warm lips-and then he could hold back no longer, plunging his organ into her body and feeling her shudder with pleasure as he entered, going deeply before pulling out a bit, then going deeply again.

"Oh, God, but that's good!" Her voice quavered with ecstasy. "You're so hard ... so big! Oh, God, but I love the feel of you inside me!"

He continued pumping with steady motions until just as he felt himself beginning to come, her body began moving convulsively as she scissored her legs around his waist and emitted a shrill, thin bleat of joy that told him she had climaxed. Seconds later his penis erupted within the warmth and tightness of her organ, making him grunt with enjoyment as he frenziedly moved faster during the orgasm. Then he slumped atop her, breathing heavily and hearing her gasps for air. Rolling off her, he lay on his back, eyes closed, recovering from the tension and effort of the act.

One of her hands grasped his wet, still semi-hard penis, gently stroking it. He accepted the fondling although it mildly irritated him now that he no longer felt any lust.

"Ooh, you're wonderful!" she cooed. "God, you must be twice the size of my husband!"

Opening his eyes and bringing his wrist before them, he glanced at the watch. "Baby, I gotta get back to that goddamned market in a few minutes or risk having Gopher Face throw a fit."

"Can we get together tonight?" She raised up on an elbow, her expression hopeful. "This nooner was nice but I want to have you take your time making love to me-like that first time we went to bed together at my house."

He shook his head, sitting up and pulling his pants on after drying his organ on the sheet. "I know, baby, but I can't make it tonight. I'm due to take an important exam tonight." His story to her was that he went to night school, studying accounting in an effort to better himself. She had bought this lie as far as he could tell, and hadn't given him any static.

"Can't you miss just one exam?" Her voice took on a petulant quality. "I need to have you make more love to me, honey."

Standing, he pulled his shirt on over his head. Grinning down at the anxious face, he chuckled. "Hey, you're getting to be a regular fiend! You know I'd like nothing better than hitting the sack with you and being able to really take my time, but this is one exam I don't dare miss unless I want to louse up my credits."

She sat up, her arms hugging her knees, a pouty expression on her face. "This is sure a hell of a catch-as-catch-can affair we're having," she complained. "Nothing but nooners for almost two weeks now. And here I got everything squared away at home so I can get out at least two nights a week."

"We'll get together some night next week," he promised, putting his feet into his shoes. "Honest, baby, I just gotta make this exam."

"Well ... all right, but I'm starting to hate that school." She swung her long, flawlessly proportioned legs over the edge of the bed and reached for her step-ins. "When am I going to see you again?"

He paused, trying to choose a night far enough ahead so it wouldn't likely conflict with the thing he knew was starting with Debby Green. "How about next Thursday night?"

"That's a whole week away!" she protested.

He shrugged. "Best I can do until these lousy exams are over, baby. By the way, were you able to get any-" His voice trailed into silence.

"Yes, I got you some money but I sure had to lie my head off to get it." She dug into the huge purse on the bedside table, taking out a thin sheaf of bills and handing them to him. He counted them almost at a glance. There was exactly fifty dollars. "John is going to start demanding an explanation one of these days for the way that savings account has been getting tapped."

"You'll think of something." He knelt beside her, holding her face between his hands. "Maybe I'll even be able to have it all back to you before hubby gets wise. Thanks, baby. Now I can get those books I need. Don't know what I'd do without you!"

"Can't we make it before Thursday night?" Her tone and expression were pleading. "I get so hot for you, Perry. I know I'm shameless to admit it but I need you in my life-and more often."

He kissed the finely chiseled lips and felt her melt in his arms. After a few seconds he pulled back, standing up. "It won't always be like this, baby. I guarantee it. About another week or two and I'll be on a much better schedule."

"Promise?"

He nodded. "Did you take care of this pad or shall I pay them?"

"It's taken care of." She watched him go to the door with eyes still simmering with desire. "Remember-Thursday night's mine."

"Right. See you then." He blew her a kiss, grinning broadly. "This same place. About ten. Okay, baby?"

"You just be here!"

"I will, don't worry." He went out, closing the unit's door behind him and heading straight for his car. Stopping beside it only long enough to put the money she'd given him into his wallet, he got behind the steering wheel and drove out of the motel a couple of minutes later.

She's a good lay, he decided, entering the traffic headed in the direction of the market. I know the best thing I got going for me is her king-size yen for me, but it sure gets to be a pain in the ass every now and then. But as long as she can keep coming up with the bucks, I'll go right on punching her. First time she tries to stall me about financial help-it's all over and she can look for another guy. Experience had taught him that it was best to play some broads along slowly, not giving them the all-out lovemaking they craved. Not after the first intimacy during which he really poured it to them, putting all his erotic skill to work in an effort to get them emotionally and physically on the hook.

He was eight-minutes late when he clocked in at the market, but Gopher Face was nowhere in sight and he knew he could square things up by working a few minutes past quitting time before clocking-out for the day.

Putting two heavy cartons of canned goods on a dolly, he hauled it out into the store and stopped when he reached the shelves where restocking was indicated by the absence of cans in that section. As he resumed working his mind went back over his other experiences. Almost all of them had come to an abrupt end when one of the broads found out about another one. The first time this had happened he had naively tried brazening things out, but discovered rather quickly that it was all over when and if any of them got wind that he was playing the field. In Tulsa he had almost been killed by the redhead who had tried to gut-shoot him after she tumbled to the fact that he was laying two other housewives as well as getting into her pants and purse each week. He shuddered, recalling how close those bullets had come to hitting him. Fortunately, the enraged redhead was far too upset to aim accurately and he had gotten the gun away from her, using brutal force to make her drop it before her aim got any better.

He sighed, placing another can into the neat row he was adding to the shelf. Since then, he'd been more careful and had only left El Paso after it became too much work keeping three women ignorant of the fact that he was screwing them all every week as well as collecting slightly better than a grand a month from them, all told.

His memories were interrupted by Gopher Face who appeared in the aisle, coming toward him with a grim expression of disapproval. Shit, he's seen that time-card, he thought. Here's hoping he doesn't bounce me for a lousy eight-minutes.

"You were a bit late getting back from lunch, weren't you?" Gopher Face stood beside him, obviously enjoying himself although he wore a stern expression. "Care to tell me why?"

"Car stalled on me." Clark looked up, trying for a worried look that might mollify this lardy tyrant. "Awful sorry, sir. It won't happen again."

"Well, I like a boy who owns up instead of trying to make useless excuses. May I suggest that you eat your lunch closer to the market after this so you won't be late."

"Yes, sir," Clark mumbled.

"There's a perfectly good cafe just down the block from here."

"I'll-I'll eat there, sir, and it won't happen again. Honest." Inside, Clark seethed with disgust at having to take all this crap from the clown, but it was either make the jerk think he was really leaning successfully on a nervous employee or take the chance of being fired.

"I'm giving you another chance," Gopher Face announced, sighing and making his words sound like a saint's patience. "But only one more chance-and I hope you'll make good use of it because I'd hate to have to fire you. Do you think you can do that?"

Lowering his face in simulated humility to hide the fury he felt, Clark nodded meekly, saying nothing. There was a long moment of silence, then he heard Gopher Face walking away. Looking up, Clark saw the other man's back was just a bit straighter, his head held a trifle higher.

Man, how chewing out people makes that bastard stand tall! he thought angrily. He really gets his kicks pushing employees around. Before I split this town I'll have to figure out some way to chop him down some.

The thought eased his rage somewhat and he got through the rest of the day without feeling too depressed.

TWO

Debby was early.

Shortly after nine that night she rang the doorbell and Clark opened the door to find her, holding a paper sack and wearing a nervous smile, waiting in the hallway.

He motioned for her to enter his pad, noting the skin-tight slack suit that accentuated her generously curved figure. "Come on in and flop. This is where I'd hang my hat if I had one."

She looked about the room. "Hey, this is a cute place. Really classy. You must pay a small fortune in rent, fella!"

"I like your outfit," he replied, nodding at her slack suit. "That bright green really looks great on you."

"Thanks!" She extended the paper sack to him and as he accepted it, he heard the bottle it contained clink softly. "Told you I'd bring some goodies. Hope you're a vodka lover like me because that's what I got."

"Yeah, I dig vodka." He carried the sack into the kitchenette, removing a fifth of vodka and two large cans of tomato-juice from it. "You're a Bloody Mary fan, huh?"

She sauntered into the kitchenette, chuckling. "It's the only drink I can handle. Gee, this sure is a nice apartment!"

He grinned at her as he began making their drinks. "It's cozy enough."

"It looks like heaven after that messy house I just left." She accepted the glass he gave her, sipping at the drink. "Guess I better tell you about me. No point in trying to have too many secrets if we're going to be friends."

"Whatever's right."

They returned to the living room and sat on the couch, facing each other. When she dug into her purse for cigarettes Clark lit one for her and she relaxed against the back of the couch with a deep sigh of contentment. "Okay, here goes. I'm married, all right. Been tied to the same joker for almost eleven years. I've got three children. Two boys and a girl. And I'm tired of just being a good little, hard working wifey and mother, see? Just plain tired of the whole scene!"

Clark nodded sympathetically.

"Maybe I sound pretty terrible-talking like this about my family-but I'm bored. I love my kids. I really do. But I'm so bored with the routine I sometimes wonder if I'm going outa my mind. Does any of this make sense to you, Perry?"

"Sure it does." He leaned forward, patting her knee. "Could happen to anyone, Debby. Maybe you just got married too young or something."

"That's the truth. My husband, Andy, is a nice guy. He works hard and he's good to the kids and me-and I should probably hate myself for the way I feel about him, but somewhere along the line I just stopped being crazy about the poor clown."

"It happens," Clark murmured, shrugging.

"And when it comes to ... us ... well, you know, like making love-he's pitiful. I mean, he just doesn't hack it worth a damn as far as I'm concerned." She gulped the rest of her drink down. "Frankly, he's one of those inand-out types, y'know?"

Clark nodded slowly.

"A woman needs more than just having some guy selfishly thinking of himself-taking her when he needs some sex like he'd take an aspirin for a headache. Andy never was much of a lover and he's even less of one these days." She suddenly smiled, looking mildly embarrassed. "My God, but you're easy to talk to, Perry. I've never talked like this to anyone-except maybe my best girl friend!"

"Better let me fix you another drink," Clark suggested, taking her glass. "I like listening to you talk. Maybe I understand what you're telling me better than you think I do."

"Have you ever been married?"

He shook his head.

"Of course not! You're much too young!"

"Not that young-remember? I told you I'm older than I look." He went into the kitchenette, quickly built her another drink, freshened his own and returned to where she sat, staring moodily into space as she smoked.

"Here you go, beautiful!" He handed her the glass. Raising his own glass, he said: "Here's to it, and here's to it again! If you get to it and don't do it-you'll never get to it to do it again!"

"That's naughty!" she said laughing. "But I'll drink to it anyway!"

For the next hour and a half she gave him many details of her life and how she felt about it. He kept the drinks coming steadily and she consumed them without showing any signs of getting high until, suddenly, from the tipsy way she would giggle he knew the vodka was having some effect.

There was nothing new about her story. He'd heard practically identical stories many times before, but he kept responding sympathetically and she gradually began acting more intimate, shifting so she sat closer to him and frequently putting her hand on his shoulder, squeezing it for emphasis while she talked. This was a boring stage for him but he knew it had to be endured. She was getting ready to convince herself that it would be perfectly justifiable to let him possess her. Again, past experience had taught him that certain types of women needed to work themselves to the point where actual sexual contact was possible-and by now he was hot enough for her lush figure that he didn't want to unnerve her by making a pass too soon.

Abruptly, she stopped talking-right in the middle of an explanation as to why she could no longer stand having her husband even touch her-and stared drunkenly at him with intensity, her lips flickering open and shut rapidly.

"Oh, Perry!" she whispered. "Please kiss me!"

He took her into his arms, skillfully kissing her and feeling her surge harder against him. For a few moments he continued kissing her, gently inserting his tongue into her mouth and feeling her tongue responding in his mouth. Carefully, he put a hand over one of her breasts, realizing from the feel of it that she wore no bra beneath the blouse. She moaned throatily, writhing beside him and putting her hand into his lap, fondling his penis through the cloth of his pants.

"Let's go into the bedroom," he suggested in a soft tone. "We'll be more comfortable in there."

She allowed him to pick her up and she weighed much less than he expected. Carrying her, with her mouth still glued to his, he gently deposited her on the bed-rolling onto it beside her and unbuttoning her blouse as they went on kissing.

Opened, the blouse parted in front, allowing his hands full play with the full, firm breasts while she moaned with pleasure. He unzipped her slacks and she wiggled about, helping him to peel them from her lower body and legs. When she was entirely naked on the bed he stopped kissing her long enough to admire the rounded, smooth curves of her breasts and belly, noting the thick bush of pubic hair that formed a dark triangle below her belly. She lay with her eyes closed, making whimpering sounds deep in her throat. Quickly, he stripped off his clothes and pressed closely against the warmth and softness of her bare flesh.

Her hand reached for his organ which by now had erected fully-a long, hard pole of pulsating flesh. Awkwardly, she fondled and pulled at it. His mouth closed upon one of her taut nipples and he began nursing deftly, his other hand massaging her other breast. Her incoherent sounds were a steady babbling as they played with one another.

Suddenly, she struggled to a sitting position-staring at his unusually long penis pointing upward as he rolled upon his back.

"God but you're huge!" There was genuine awe in her voice as she put both hands on his organ just below the plum-shaped head of it. "I've never seen anything that big!"

"Go ahead," he urged, smiling serenely.

"What?"

"Go ahead and do it!"

"Do what?"

"Put your mouth on it, baby! I love being sucked."

"I've never done that-not even to Andy, and he's been begging me for years to do it to him."

"You might like it."

She hesitated, torn between uncertainty and the desire to put her mouth over the end of his immense penis. "It's not a perverted thing to do?"

He laughed. "Hell, no! It's a wonderful thing to do. People all over the world are doing it right this minute!"

Slowly she lowered herself forward, letting her opened mouth engulf the bulbous tip. To her surprise it didn't taste bad. And the feel of it in her mouth excited her. She heard him gasp with reaction as she began letting her mouth slide up and down the throbbing pole of muscle.

"Goddamn!" he said between clenched teeth, the sensual delight of her sucking making his whole body tremble. "You do that awfully good for a girl who never tried it before!"

She sucked harder, letting her tongue trace designs upon the heated plum in her mouth and hearing him groan with enjoyment.

Clark eased himself around, being careful not to interrupt her sucking, until his face was near her behind as she knelt on the bed still busily sucking and slobbering. He began lightly kissing the rounded cheeks of her behind, twisting his head until he could press his face upward between the buttocks, his mouth greedily searching for the lips of her vulva in the thick hair that grew there. She had no odor and he soon found her clitoris, his tongue darting over it. She made a harsh sound and quivered as, holding her buttocks slightly apart with his hands, he began lapping at her slit, running his tongue over her clitoris and probing into her vagina with it.

She climaxed almost immediately, lifting her mouth from his prick and going rigid with the waves of ecstasy that swept up from where his mouth worked upon her organ. She squealed with pleasure as the climax reached a point where she could hardly stand the sensuality of what his tongue and lips were doing to her. Then it was over and she was too sensitive for more, so she pulled free of his mouth and hands, breathing laboriously, still kneeling on the bed with her head over the erect penis that pulsed visibly before her.

"Wait a minute!" she pleaded. "I've I've got to have a little rest."

"How about me?"

"What do you mean?"

"Aren't you going to let me come, too? That'd be kinda selfish, wouldn't it?" His tone was light but she sensed that he wasn't kidding.

She lowered her mouth over the penis, resuming sucking at it and hearing him hiss with enjoyment as her head bobbed up and down in a steady tempo.

Clark lay flat on his back, loving the sensation of her mouth around his cock and grinning up at the ceiling. Man, if this isn't the way it goes in this screwy world! he thought wryly. Her old man's been trying to get her to go down on him for years-and here she is, gobbling up a storm the very first time we're in bed together! There must be something about marriage that kills sex! If I ever marry anybody, it'll be a rich old bag that I never touch!

Then, his organ erupted its juice into her mouth and he was caught in the urgent spasms of climax, his whole consciousness centered upon the sensation taking place as she drank his load without coughing or gagging. When he had finished coming she raised her head and moved away from him, wiping her lips on a comer of the bedspread.

"Feel better?" she mumbled.

"You better believe it! But what I can't put together is the expert way you do that when you say you've never done it before."

"Well," she sighed, "I lied about it. A boy I once went steady with-before I got married-taught me how to do it to him. But I always felt it was an unnatural thing to do and I never liked doing it-until now."

"Oh, yeah?"

"It's exciting, somehow, with you. But I never did it for Andy and I never will!" Her expression was sincere, intense. "I think I've fallen in love with you, Perry."

"I'm glad you have."

"You don't mind?"

"Of course not, baby. I feel the same way about you-even though I know you belong to somebody else and you have those kids to think about." He got up from the bed. "Hey, let's not bring ourselves down with a lot of gloomy talk. How about a snack and another drink before we have a little more fun? Sound good?"

"Sounds marvelous," she agreed. "God, I haven't felt so free-so much me in I don't know when!" She gestured at a nearby door. "That the bathroom?"

"Every inch of it!"

"See you at the snackbar, lover!" She went into the bathroom, shutting the door behind herself.

Clark wandered nakedly into the kitchenette and built more drinks. Finding some dip left in the refrigerator, he searched through the cupboards until he located a bag of potatochips. Putting all the refreshments on a small tray, he carried it back into the bedroom. She was still in the John, humming happily.

He sat on the edge of the bed waiting for her and musing over the situation. She oughta be good for at least a hundred a month-for awhile, he decided. I wish to hell I could make contact with some married broads whose old men made more money than these tracthouse dolls. This aspect of his racket had been bothering him more and more lately, and he had been promising himself to upgrade the whole action by only getting involved with women who could hand out larger amounts of money. Shit, it's time I went for bigger game! And I gotta drop that Williams broad. She's getting tight with the bucks far too soon. Yeah, it's either take on a goddamned crowd of these nickel and dime cunts or start setting my sights on some chicks who can hand out really fat sums when I tell them I'm in trouble with gambling debts or need money to send my poor old momma, or any one of the shit-stories that have always worked the trick.

He frowned at the carpeting, wondering just how he was going to be able to increase his cash income. Absentmindedly, he raked a chip through the dip, munching it and savoring the avocado and onion flavor. The muted sound of running water through the bathroom door told him that Debby had decided to have a shower before coming back for more jollies. Well, I'll just have to play it by ear and see what comes along, he thought. One thing for sure. That Williams broad gets dumped. She's just not that good a piece of ass and I'm getting tired of having her sound so fucking insistent. Yeah, I'll break it off the first chance I get. Sure glad I never let her know where I live. She'd be camped at the door. He smiled, recalling a similar woman who had caused much difficulty when he had been stupid enough to give her his address. That had been a mess, and he could recognize the same traits in Mae Williams. Some of them are just pure grief from the first time they open their legs. Others are hardly any trouble at all to con and keep conned. Wonder why I can't seem to get that fact through my damned skull. I've been doing this thing long enough to know how to avoid the bitches and go for the real dum-dums. He looked up, shaking his head at the reflected image of himself in the mirror over the dresser.

Debby emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a large beach towel and smiling warmly as she came to the bed. Clark handed her a drink and she sipped it, still giving him the gooey smile.

"Miss me?" she asked.

"What do you think, baby?"

"It's getting late. I'll have to be getting home soon, lover."

"In that case," he said, pulling the towel from her body and pushing her onto her back with one hand while he removed the drink from her hand with the other, "we better just make good use of the time still left, huh?"

She arched her back, spreading her legs and bringing her belly up to rub against his stomach, her arms sliding around his neck and pulling his head down until their mouths were clamped wetly together. He moved around, letting his penis stiffen at the touch of her crotch, and a few seconds later thrust his organ into the moistness and warmth of her vagina, listening to her murmur with enjoyment as he penetrated her organ.

"Like that?" he asked softly, moving back and forth with slow deliberation and feeling her quiver each time his penis moved in and out.

"Oh, God, yes-I love it!" she gasped.

Moving steadily and slowly increasing the rhythm of his thrusts and withdrawals, he kept himself under control long enough for her to climax in a frenzy of threshing and shrill cries, maintaining the undulating pace until she was squirming like a madwoman beneath him in another orgasm, her body shuddering with sensual pleasure, her cries weaker and thinner. Only then did he let himself launch into a frantic driving motion that quickly brought him to his own orgasm as he felt his organ shooting his fluid in jerky spasms of release.

Exhausted and unable to do more than slump upon her as they lay in a tangle of arms and legs, both gasping for air, Clark was confident she had never been so thoroughly screwed. Not if she had a husband who wasted no time getting his own rocks off, leaving her unsatisfied.

"W-Was it good f-for you, baby?" he asked.

"Better th-than I've e-ever known!" she told him in a faint tone. "God, but I'm glad I had the guts to approach you! I never dreamed fucking could be this good!" She hugged him gratefully.

Averting his face and pretending to be resting, he smiled into the pillow. She was hooked. From now on she'd do almost anything rather than have her love-life interrupted. It was an old, reliable pattern.

He felt a quiet pride in himself.

After she had left, urging him to call her the following day and scribbling the phone number on an envelope with the repeated assurance that her husband was safely gone to work between the hours of seven in the morning until four-thirty in the afternoons, weekdays, Clark took a long, hot shower. Standing under the water drumming down at him, he suddenly felt famished. Knowing he was too tired to fool around trying to fix a really decent meal for himself, he decided to just find a restaurant and have a steak and egg breakfast.

Twenty minutes later he was wearing fresh clothing and sitting in a booth at an all-night coffee shop, forking medium-rare rib-eye steak and eggs-over-easy into his mouth between sips of coffee.

The familiar tingling at the back of his neck was something of a surprise-at that late hour and in a public place where he had never experienced it, consequently was startled to find himself feeling it. He looked around the coffee shop, seeing only a few couples engrossed in each other plus a large group of people chatting and laughing among themselves. None of these were watching him. They were far too busy with themselves.

Then he spotted the small, slight man in the expensive looking suit sitting in a distant corner, his eyes fixed upon Clark. Seeing that Clark had spotted him, the man got to his feet and came over.

Clark drew a deep breath to help himself relax and be ready for whatever was coming. He had operated in many towns, left many enemies behind. He always assumed that one day he would be recognized by somebody who might want to give him a bad time. It was just one of the risks that he took, and he flexed his shoulder muscles in an effort to loosen up for fast action if violence was what this clown had in mind.

"May I join you?" The voice was cultured, pleasant.

Clark looked up at the small, thin man standing beside the booth. He regarded him unsmilingly but the man's cheerful if solemii expression didn't so much as flicker.

"Be my guest," Clark told him.

"I'm Randolph Quinn," he said, slipping into the seat opposite Clark. "And you?"

"Harry Carter," lied Clark smoothly.

"Well, it's very nice to meet you, Mr. Carter. I suppose you're wondering why I've intruded upon you like this-"

Clark nodded. "Right."

"-and I certainly intend giving you an explanation. But, first, may I ask you a question?" The beady black eyes searched Clark's face with a weird intensity. The absurdly heavy mouth with its thick lips was pursed thoughtfully.

"Depends upon the question."

"Are you in any way related to Tony Curtis?"

Clark burst into laughter. The other man waited with a patient expression until the laughter was finished. "You mean, Tony Curtis the actor?"

"Yes, that's who I mean."

"No. Not as far as I know, anyway."

Quinn sighed, peering closely at Clark with an expression of undeniable admiration and perhaps something more than mere admiration. "Well, the resemblance is utterly fantastic but, then, you've probably heard that many times."

"A few," Clark admitted. A suspicion had just entered his mind. It was confirmed when he felt the hand beneath the table gently touch his knee.

"Are you a worldly person?" Quinn asked softly. "Mind if I call you Harry? I rather dislike undue formality, don't you?"

Clark broke into more laughter, lit a cigarette and sat back in the booth, moving his leg away so the surreptitious hand could no longer reach it. The guy's a stinking fag! he concluded with some degree of relief. He's hot for my body. Shit, I'm being picked up by a fairy!

"Oh, I loathe formality," Clark assured him.

"Really? Isn't that wonderful!" There was no mistaking the slight lisp, the barely imperceptible trace of something offbeat now. "Well, I bet we have a lot in common."

"Oh, yeah?"

"You're surely one of the most handsome men I've ever seen, if you aren't offended by my opinion." The unseen hand groped against Clark's leg, the fingers squeezing the calf intimately. Clark let the hand have its fun. "I'll bet you probably can have just about any girl you want."

Clark shook his head. Quinn's eyes widened in startled disbelief.

"Nope," Clark said, casually blowing a stream of cigarette smoke up at the ceiling. "I don't dig the cunts. There's something I like better."

"Wh-what would that be?" Quinn's expression was a blend of hope, fear and increased disbelief.

"I love having my cock sucked."

Quinn blinked several times, the expression on his mildly pinched face changing from incredulity to an undisguised hunger. "Did I hear you correctly?"

Clark leaned forward. "Sure, you heard me right. I'm not ashamed of it. I just love having my big, hard cock sucked by anybody who knows how to give a decent blow-job. Anything wrong with that?"

Quinn swallowed hard. In a barely audible tone he said: "Of course not. Certainly not. No indeed. But, you see, I was-"

"You've been playing with my knee and my leg," interrupted Clark, grinning. "So let's stop kidding around and get down to brass tacks. I get the strong impression that you would like-like, hell-love to put my huge, throbbing penis into your mouth and suck on it until I come!"

Quinn nodded, his expression dreamy.

"Well, then, why don't we just go somewhere quiet and you can do just that. You like to do it. I like to have it done. So long as the vice-squad doesn't catch us in the act-everybody is happy with the action." Clark moved out of the booth standing up and finding money in his pocket to pay his check. "Wait'll I've left, then come around to the parking lot in the rear. I've got a car there. We can drive to some dark place."

"God, do you really mean it?" Quinn's voice and face bore traces of anguish. "You're not just making fun of me because I'm-I'm a homo?"

"Hell, no!"

"I'll meet you at your car!"

Paying his check, Clark walked out the rear exit, crossed the parking lot and got into his sports car. Scarcely a moment later Quinn emerged from the coffee shop building, paused a moment looking around and headed for the sports car after Clark blinked the headlights twice.

"I've got a bigger car," Quinn suggested.

"This one'll make a fine lovenest. Get in or forget it." Clark swung the door on the passenger side open. Quinn got in quickly, glancing nervously in all directions as he slammed the door.

"I know a marvelously safe place near here," Quinn said, his voice suddenly low and trembling. "I've-I've been there often and nobody has ever bothered me." He gave a few directions about reaching the place and Clark started the car, pulling out of the parking lot and heading down a quiet sidestreet. "Do you mind if I touch you?"

Clark shrugged. "Just don't make me drive up any trees. Know what I mean?"

Quinn bent over, burying his face into Clark's lap, nuzzling like an animal. The feel of his face there made the lust come alive in Clark's crotch and his penis stiffened responsively. Now gentle fingers had unzipped his fly and were prying into his pants, finding the rapidly hardening organ and bringing it out.

"Wait'll we get to the right place," Clark ordered. "If a cop should pull up alongside right now-we've had it, dum-dum!"

"You're right." Quinn sighed, but continued fondling the now totally erect organ. "Good lord, but you're really a monster, aren't you? Why, that's the biggest, most exciting thing I've seen in a long time! Mmmmmmm!"

Clark thought rapidly. Originally, he had intended getting the fairy to some secluded spot, knocking him cold and rolling him. The expensive suit and watch the guy wore were indications that he just might be carrying a bundle of bucks. Now, feeling the lust roiling in his lap, Clark decided to wait until he'd enjoyed a blow-job and then roll the guy.

Arriving at the place Quinn had described, Clark pulled off the deserted street onto a narrow, unpaved road and drove into a small grove of trees. Here, he killed the engine. The darkness and silence closed in around them.

Quinn's hand stroked the upright penis protruding from Clark's fly. "Relax, dear boy," he said in a tone heavy with lust. "Nobody checks this place out. Not even the police. We're perfectly safe. And now I want to make love to you."

"No kisses or hugs," Clark warned him, settling back more comfortably. "Just suck me off."

With a muttered sound of passion, Quinn bent his head, his mouth going down over the head of Clark's organ, his lips tightening about it. The feeling was sensual and Clark gave himself up to it-enjoying every minute of it. Quickly, his excitement rose until he exploded into the instinctive spasms of orgasm, hearing the greedy noises Quinn made as he swallowed every drop ejaculating from the straining organ in his mouth.

"Okay, give it a rest," Clark ordered.

Reluctantly Quinn's head came up. "Will you let me do it again in a few minutes? Surely, you don't mind getting another-"

He never completed the sentence. Clark rabbit-punched him brutally and the smaller man slumped across Clark's lap, a low moan bubbling from his slack mouth. Dazed, he lay there while Clark hit him again. This time he went out cold. Roughly shoving him out of the car and onto the damp ground, Clark rapidly found Quinn's wallet in his coat pocket, removed the bills from it and tossed the wallet aside. Then he methodically pulled the expensive looking wristwatch from Quinn's wrist, stuffing it and the bills into his pants pocket.

"Pleasant dreams, fruitball!" muttered Clark getting back into the car and slamming the door shut. Moments later he was driving down the quiet street toward the main drag where late traffic moved along in a steady succession of headlights.

Thirty minutes later, he was sprawled across his bed, counting the money he'd taken from the homosexual's wallet. Three-hundred and sixty-one dollars. With a satisfied smirk he slipped the bills into his own wallet.

Just before sleep invaded his senses, he yawned mightily-having undressed and clambered into the bed after snapping off the light, knowing that he would only get a couple of hours of sleep before it would be time to go to work-and grinned to himself. Maybe I should roll queers, he thought, if conning broads ever begins to bore me!

Soon he was sleeping as soundly as a child.

THREE

When Thursday rolled around it was Gopher Face who bailed him out.

As Thursday came closer, day by day, Clark tried to figure an easy way to unload Mae Williams, being certain now that she was going to need more of his time and energy than he intended giving any broad. Plan after plan, gimmick after gimmick, he kept considering them and discarding them. If he was too blunt about it she might really turn nasty and do something rash that might necessitate his quitting his job and disappearing. It had happened before and he knew it could happen again. On the other hand, if he was too subtle, too tactful-she might not read the message and he would be stuck with her for another month. This was something he intended avoiding, now that his mind was firmly made up that she was definitely off his list of active contacts.

He had Debby Green. And there was a brand new doll-a sly-eyed redhead who looked about forty in the face but whose figure was strictly as firm and exciting as any twenty-year-old ever hoped to have-giving him the old eye every time she was in the store; and her visits were getting to be much more often now that he had eyed her back and she clearly saw he was interested.

He just didn't need or want even one more time with Mae. But how to get her off his back? That question had been weighing heavily on his mind as Thursday approached. He even caught himself wondering about it the second time Debby came to his pad to get laid.

Opening crates of fresh vegetables in the rear of the store, he was mechanically doing his work and trying to figure a way to dump Mae when Gopher Face came strutting over to where he was working.

"Perry, I'd like to have a word with you," he said, giving it his usual air of importance. "May I have your attention, please."

"Certainly, sir." Clark stopped working and tried to look properly respectful and interested.

"We've encountered a sticky wicket of sorts on the overtime schedule. There will be a need for several employees to work overtime this evening, after closing, and due to some stupidity or other in Personnel-we haven't gotten the newhire who was supposed to be here by today." Gopher Face frowned at the sheets of paper on the clipboard he always carried with him. "What I'd like to know, is, may we count on you to continue working until the store has been completely restocked tonight. It will mean some admittedly long and tiring hours in addition to your working day but I think the overtime money will look mighty good to you when the payroll checks are issued!" Gopher Face smiled knowingly.

"Well, I had a date-" Clark began, but suddenly realized he was being granted a very logical, legitimate out from the date with Mae. "Sure, sir. The store comes first. I'll be glad to work tonight!"

Gopher Face brightened visibly.

"Why, that's wonderful for you to take an attitude like that, Perry! I'm pleased beyond description, and I'm certainly going to see to it that your cooperation is noted on your employee record!"

"Aw, that's all right," Clark demurred, looking down at his shoes in what he hoped passed for embarrassed modesty. "Glad to do it, sir."

Gopher Face put a hand on his shoulder. "If only some of the other employees had your loyalty, your unfailing reliability! I'm very proud of you!"

He left, looking vastly relieved.

Clark went over to the pay-station phone on the loading dock, dialing Mae's number and hearing her voice a few seconds later.

"Listen, baby," he said evenly. "Bad news. I can't make our date tonight after all."

"You promised!" she wailed. "You promised that we could get together tonight!"

"Yeah, I know. But I'm being asked to work real late. They're having a restock-inventory. That means they practically restock the whole damn place and I gotta be here to help."

"Bullshit!" Her voice grew sharp with anger and disappointment. "You can get out of it if you want to keep our date!"

"No can do, baby," he lied.

"Listen, Perry ... please! Andy's not going to be home until tomorrow night. I've left my kids at my mother's, telling her I was going with Andy on his business trip. We'll have the whole night and the house to ourselves! I've even fixed a very special dinner for you-and I'm lonely, honey! I really need you tonight!"

He grinned at the pleading note. She was lonely, all right. That, translated, meant she wanted to be fucked all night. Craved to be screwed the way he had been pounding it to her. Also, she was hung-up on some of the things that he had taught her to enjoy. Things like sixty-nining.

"I'm sorry, Mae. I've got to work. That's all there is to it." He kept his voice flat, unyielding. If he could break this date with her successfully, there was every chance it would create a gap that would make turning her down the next time-and he was sure there would, unfortunately, be a next time-that much easier. After being turned down two or three times in a row, she just might get the idea and look for another stud. Anyway, he hoped so. She had been slowly getting to be a real pain in the ass, showing up at the store and always trying to talk to him when he was supposed to be working. Also, she was getting slow with the coins. And when a broad started getting tight with the bucks-he turned them off immediately.

"Pl-Please, Perry!" She was crying now. Her sobs only ignited a fiery disgust within him. "Please d-don't stand me up a-after I've gone t-to all this t-trouble to be sure th-that we have a whole night together!"

"Mae, I've got to work tonight."

She dissolved into a series of incoherent sobs.

"Later, baby," he said quietly, and he hung up the phone. Swaggering back to his unfinished work, he felt a sense of relief that amounted almost to gratitude to Gopher Face. Almost but not quite.

Damned good thing I always managed to side-step her questions about my pad, he thought. Once she bought all that crap about me living in a lousy boardinghouse with a landlady who didn't allow me to have visitors, I was fairly in the clear so far as that broad surprising me at home. Shit, that neurotic nitwit would probably kill me if she ever saw the place I live in! One of these days I'm going to learn to spot the nuts long before I get my hand on their pussies. Shrugging philosophically, he resumed transferring the heads of lettuce from their shipping crates to the produce-cart with which he'd wheel them out to their bins in the vegetable section.

Debby Green was going to work out very nicely. He'd already given her a preliminary story about being in hock to a gambling syndicate who might start leaning on his sanity at any time, should they want him to pay off the losses he owed them. She had been mildly shocked at first. Then, quite concerned and sympathetic. Given a few more sessions in bed with him and she'd rob her own bank account in order to protect him. Not only that, but she was a really great lay in the bargain. There was just something about her body-he couldn't exactly make up his mind what it was-that turned him on like he was seldom turned-on. Being new to this extramarital sex bit, she was easy to handle when it came to making dates that were convenient for him. Mae Williams had never been that tractable, and he suspected that she had fooled around on the quiet with a number of guys before getting a yen for him.

"Hey, handsome!" The voice belonged to the broad from checkstand #3, a brash brunette who tried to make up for her skinny frame by being aggressive. At first, he figured her for a dyke from the way she cropped her dark hair so short but it wasn't long before he changed his mind about her taste in sex partners. She'd begun going all-out on the make for him within a week after she'd been hired, and it was nothing short of a miracle that Gopher Face hadn't heard or seen some of the open invitations she had hurled at him on store time. "Come on, lover! It's lunchtime! Gotta eat to keep virile, don't you?"

He shook his head at her. "Elaine the pain! Baby, why are you always bugging me like this? I treat you nice, don't I?"

"Not as nice as I wish you would!" Elaine gestured at him with a toss of her head. "No kidding, I'll pick up the tab if you'll quit molesting those poor vegetables and eat lunch with a sex-starved girl who has eyes for you!"

"That a for-real offer?"

"All my offers are for real, lover!" She looked him challengingly in the eye and he knew she'd give her left tit to have him make a definite pass at her. "We can discuss the matter of exactly where we'll do it in the store tonight! I'm working late, too."

He tossed a head of lettuce onto the cart and pulled off his smock, laying it across the cart's handle. "Okay, mouthy-girl, I'll take you up on that fascinating offer."

"Oh, really? Which offer? You mean, the one about me getting seduced in the store by you?" She grinned hopefully at him.

"Nope. The free lunch."

Leaving the store after clocking out, he went to eat with her, knowing that he would let her pay for his food. Clark enjoyed seeing women spend their money on him. He believed in equality of the sexes.

Especially when he gained by it.

They finished up the restocking at two-thirty in the morning and Clark left the store feeling numb with weariness. It had been one of the longest working days of his life and he was exhausted. As he crossed the parking lot, headed toward his car, his whole body ached with the hours of hard work he had put in-and the thought of just hitting the sack was uppermost in his mind.

Then he saw Mae Williams' sedan parked beside his car. She was hunched in the front seat, watching him approach. He realized that she had probably been sitting there, waiting for him, for hours-and the realization sparked a deep fury within him.

Goddamn, he raged silently, doesn't that bitch ever give up? What the hell do I have to tell her in order to get her off my back? She got out of her car as he walked up to it.

"You really did have to work." She sounded apologetic. "I've been here all night, waiting for you and hoping you might get off work any minute."

"You're outta your mind," he snapped, the fatigue he felt making him too tense to play it cool with her. "I told you I had to work."

"Please don't be angry with me!"

He lit a cigarette without bothering to offer one to her. "Listen, I don't like being checked up on, see? I don't dig it one goddamn little bit. I think you and me had just better call it a day."

Her face crumpled. "Don't say that, Perry. I need you, honey! I really need you!"

"People in south Hell need ice water, but that's no guarantee that they're gonna get it!" He kept his tone hard. "Now get off my back. I'm so pooped I can't see straight. I'm going home and go straight to bed. I may sleep for a week. And when I wake up, I want you to be just a memory. Got that?"

"You're tired," she assured him. "You don't mean what you're saying. I understand."

The fury within him exploded, triggered by his exhaustion and the depressing sight of her sitting here waiting for him. "You understand nothing, you damned dum-dum! You couldn't pour piss out of a boot if the instructions were printed on the heel! Now I'm through, see? Finished! It's all-over with you and me, so buy it and get the fuck off my back!"

"What about the money you owe me?" Her tone was resentful. "How am I going to explain to my husband that I've drawn over five hundred dollars from our savings account in the last few weeks?"

He squinted at her, dragging deeply on his cigarette before speaking. "Well, that's your problem, baby! I'll try to get it all back to you-sometime."

"Sometime!" She gave a brief, bitter laugh.

"Then write me off as a favorite charity. Shit, I'm too shot to stand her arguing with you anymore." He got into his own car, starting the engine and letting it warm up. "Just stop following me around and go find yourself a new playmate."

"Thanks a bunch!" She glared at him, familiar hatred in her eyes. "You were really after the money more than the sex, weren't you?"

"I won't tell if you won't tell."

"You-you bastard!"

"That's me, baby!"

Putting the car into gear Clark eased out of the parking lot and started in the direction of his pad, glancing into the rearview mirror from time to time just to be sure she wasn't following him. There was no way of knowing for sure what a ding-ding like Mae would do in a case like this, but he was fairly certain that she would let it lay right where it was. He knew the last thing she wanted was having her dear husband find out that she had been putting-out behind his trusting back. She was going to have enough to think about just figuring up an alibi for the money she'd been pulling out of the bank. He grinned to himself, wishing he could hear that shit story when she told it.

Once he had reached his pad, had showered and crawled wearily into bed-he thought about the redheaded number who had been giving him the old eye during her last few visits to the market. She would probably be a damned good replacement for the neurotic doll he'd just brushed-off. Being slightly older, she was doubtless more solvent-or had access to a lot more cash-than Mae Williams had been able to pony up. Not being as young or attractive, she was almost certain to try and make up for these lacks by treating him generously, once he started conning her for money. The older ones usually were more generous. He was just beginning to drift into sleep, his mind releasing all these thoughts, when he dimly heard someone knocking at the front door.

Groaning and swearing, he clambered groggily out of bed, grabbing his bathrobe to cover his nakedness. Half-stumbling, half-walking to the door, he opened it with irritated swiftness.

Elaine Hall stood there, smirking drunkenly at him with impudent confidence. She wore a mini-skirted outfit and boots that did nothing for her thin figure. Boldly, she marched past Clark and into the apartment.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he demanded disgustedly. "It's the middle of the goddamned night. I'm pooped. You should be, too, from the way they worked our asses off tonight."

"Well, I just thought I'd stop by and tuck you in, lover!" She shook with silent laughter. "Hell, I've been to a party since we knocked off work-and I'm too keyed up for anything but love!"

He sat down on the couch, lighting a cigarette.

"You're out of your mind, Elaine. Tomor row, you'll be so tired, you'll be fighting to keep your eyes open ten minutes after you go on duty."

"That's tomorrow, lover!" She sat down beside him, grinning into his face. "What interests me is tonight! What's gonna happen tonight?"

"As far as I'm concerned-nothing."

"You're mean, lover!"

"And interested only in sleep."

"Okay!" she said brightly. "So let's go beddy-bye. The sooner, the better!"

"How about you just go home and sleep in your own bed? Doesn't that sound like a good plan?"

She shook her head, her fingers kneading his thigh under the robe. Suddenly he held her wrist as she began groping under the robe for his genitals. "Cut it out, Elaine! I'm not shitting you-I'm too tired for fun and games! Now be a nice girl and head for home or I'll have to throw you out!"

"You better not," she warned him mockingly. "If you try it-I'll scream and scream and scream until everybody calls the police. And I'll tell the dirty old fuzz that you tried to rape me!"

He stared at her. Christ, she's just stoned enough and screwy enough to do it! he thought dismally. I better just play along with her. Maybe she'll pass out and sleep it off.

Stubbing out his cigarette into the ashtray, he got up and walked into the bedroom. She trotted right along behind him, giggling. Dropping his robe on the floor, he got into bed and pulled the covers up, turning onto his side.

"Now we're getting someplace!" she said gleefully.

Squinting over his shoulder at her, he saw that she was clumsily but quickly undressing in the semi-darkened room, her skinny body out-lined by the light streaming in from the living room. Sighing with exhausted resignation, he relaxed and knew she had really decided to have sex whether he was for it or not.

Then he felt her getting under the covers, her nudity warm against his back, small breasts pressing into his shoulder blades. She wiggled and squirmed impatiently. Come on, handsome!" she insisted in a chuckling whisper. "At least turn over so I can do what I came here to do!"

He turned over, lying flat on his back.

"You're unreal," he said flatly.

She got astride him, sitting on his thighs and finding his penis which she began fondling expertly. It hardened to erection immediately. When it was rigid and throbbing, she lifted herself-inserting him into her pussy which was moist, warm and snug. Leaning forward, she bit him on the neck.

"Now you're all tucked-in nice and cozy!" she whispered, the passion trembling in her voice as she began undulating her hips, riding up and down upon his stiffened shaft. "Ain't that beautiful! God, how I've wanted you ever since I first saw you!"

He lay perfectly still, his eyes closed, letting her make all the motion but enjoying the sensation of being inside her. Gradually, he felt his own excitement rising. Somehow sensing this, she moved faster and with stronger thrusts of her body, guttural noises bubbling from her throat as she climaxed with animal intensity.

He came a moment later, the spasm of pleasure forcing him to lift his body to meet hers, and they strained together, each frenziedly clutching at the other at the crest of their excited releases. With passion exploded, they slumped into a tangled heap of sweating flesh.

"Th-that was marvelous!" Elaine panted.

"Yeah." Clark yawned, still breathing heavily. "And now I'm gonna flake-out, no matter what. You've got to get the hell out of here and on your way. So thanks a lot and I'll see you tomorrow."

"I can't stay the night?" She sounded wistful.

"No."

"Well ... okay." She got out of the bed and began putting on the garments that had been hurriedly thrown on a nearby chair. "You just don't really dig anything about me, do you?"

"Afraid not, baby."

"Okay, I won't bug you anymore." She tried for a chuckle but the disappointment in her voice killed the effort. "But we can be friends, can't we?"

He yawned loudly. "Sure ... buddies."

He slipped beneath the surface of consciousness and was immersed in the peaceful greyness of sleep so quickly that he didn't hear the front door close behind her as she left.

Three days later the redhead made her move.

Carrying groceries out to her car-which he was pleased to see was a late model Cadillac-Clark wasn't surprised when she moved closer to him as he placed the grocery bags in the front seat, her hand lightly touching his arm.

"Do you like to swim?" she asked quietly.

"Heck, yes!" He looked into her face, seeing the hunger and anxiety and shame all blended into one expression there. "There's no pool at the place where I live. But I really love to swim!"

"I have a nice pool. With only my daughter and I around the house-and even her friends seldom seem to use it, anymore-it's practically going to waste. Why don't you come over and enjoy a dip?"

"Gee, that'd be great!" He gave her a sly glance that she couldn't possibly misunderstand. "Hey, you're sure that your husband won't mind a stranger getting into his wife's ... pool?"

Relief and excitement changed her expression.

"My husband's in Europe at the moment," she said, smiling knowingly. "What he doesn't know surely can't hurt him! Right?"

"Right!"

"Wait a moment." She produced a ballpoint pen and a card from her mammoth purse, quickly scribbling upon the card before handing it to him. "If you find it possible to drop by this evening, say, after seven, I might even throw in a few goodies to go with that night swim!" The look in her eyes told him what he could expect in the way of goodies.

"Oh, yeah?" He grinned at her. "It sounds like the kind of night-swim I've wanted for a long, long time-" He glanced at her name on the car. "Mrs. Andrews. I'll be there!"

"Please. Call me Willa."

"Okay, Willa. I'll be over sometime after seven."

"Fine!" Her eyes shone with ill-concealed excitement and she fumbled awkwardly with her purse as she got into the car, letting her skirt climb up, exposing a very shapely pair of legs. Goddamn, but she's built solid for her age, he thought, shutting the door for her once she was behind the steering wheel. I'll bet she fucks like a pack of minks-and probably has forgotten more about sex than I've still got to learn!

She drove out of the parking lot without waving to him which told him that she was hip enough to realize they might be watched from the store. When he returned to the checkstand he was too busy helping keep up with the late afternoon flow of customers checking their food out to notice how distant Elaine, who was working the register, was behaving. When he finally did spot her undeniable coolness, he felt a definite sense of relief. It was better not to have any personal things going with another employee. And he had been wondering if she was going to be a problem. Obviously, she was not.

During a lull in the lines that had been forming at the checkstands, Elaine turned to him with a smile. "Guess you wondered why I haven't been at work for the past few days," she said quietly. "Or did you even notice my absence?"

"Yeah, I noticed," he answered carefully.

"Well," she bit her lower lip thoughtfully. "I really tied on a dandy one. I mean, I've never been so bombed in my whole life-or stayed that way for so long! I really got smashed!"

He shrugged. "It happens."

"You're a very cold guy, lover." She stated it in the same tone of voice that she might've told him that his hair needed combing. "Yes, indeed. I know I'm no raving beauty but you must have ice water in your veins."

"Sore because I wasn't slobbering with enthusiasm the other night?"

"Not sore. Just damned rejected."

"I told you that I was bushed. You wouldn't buy it, and you didn't hear any nasty complaints when you got your way, did you?"

"That's true."

"Then forget it."

"I'll do that little thing." She eyed him with open dislike, her smile turning malicious. "Oh, by the way, there was a guy in here looking for you this morning. You were at the warehouse and he said he'd come later. Guess he wants to see you pretty badly. Hope he's a friend of yours because he's the biggest, toughest character I've seen in many a moon, lover!"

"Did he have a name?"

"Sure did."

"It's a secret or something?" Worry began nibbling at Clark's belly but he fought it down, knowing that he couldn't afford to let this dumdum know he was nervous. She might enjoy it too much.

"Yes, John Williams."

Oh, shit! he thought. Mae's old man! Wonder if she spilled her guts? She must have told him something or he wouldn't be looking for me! Worry froze into an icy chunk of fear.

"How about that!" He forced a cheerful grin of enthusiasm onto his face. "Old Johnny Williams, my Army buddy, looking for me!"

"You know him?" Elaine looked disappointed.

"We're like brothers," he said evenly. "Why, we used to share everything!"

"How touching!"

"Did he ... uh ... leave a phone number or address, or any kinda message for me?"

She shook her head, already disinterested. "No, he just said to tell you that he'd be back later because he wants to see you real bad."

"Well, thanks." He made it sound casual but as he went off to help move cartons of canned goods to their shelves he fought to control the fear roiling in his gut. Now he had to make a decision. Should he sit cool, waiting to see if he could talk Williams into a reasonable state of mind? Or would he be safer to pull out, disappearing before Williams could nail him physically or legally? Just when I've got things set up, looking promising as all hell between Debby and this Willa dame-wouldn't you know something lousy would happen? And all on accounta that ding-ding couldn't stand being dumped! Shit, I shoulda busted her goddamn neck, that's what I shoulda done!

He slammed the cartons onto the cart with savage force, splitting one of them-the canned goods spilling noisily out and rolling all over the floor. While he sullenly picked them up he made his decision. If it's only the money he's pissed about, I can get it from Debby or, maybe, this newest old bag. But if he's out to try and beat me to a pulp because his trampy wife confessed her sins-I can either blow town then or take the chance that he's not as tough as he thinks he is. Of course, if the bastard shows up with a gun-I'm in a hot spot. Somehow, he didn't think this would happen.

It had never happened before and Clark had been forced to talk fast to a couple of enraged husbands earlier in his experience.

Suddenly he remembered that he was supposed to meet Debby at his place that night. He went to the public phone and called her, canceling their date and postponing it to the following night. She took the change in plans very easily. No argument and no tears. He realized that she was going to be very reasonable, very easy to handle.

He could only hope John Williams would be, too.

FOUR

The house was no mansion but it was Located in a high-class neighborhood. A single story, ranch-style building that sat behind the privacy offered by a small grove of trees and was well-screened by shrubbery. Behind the shrubbery a cement-brick wall encircled the property.

Parking his sports car in the semi-circular drive in front of the place, Clark got out and sauntered up to the door. When he pressed the large button installed in the door's framework he could hear chimes sounding musically at a distance.

Willa Andrews answered the chimes, opening the heavily inlaid and wrought-iron studded door, a smile of welcome wreathing her face.

"How wonderful you were able to come!" she said enthusiastically, gesturing him into the hallway. "Did you bring some swim-togs?"

Clark held up the trunks in his hand, grinning.

"May I offer you a drink before you change or would you like it served poolside?" She led him through a lushly furnished series of rooms until they emerged from the house, stepping outside to one of the most tropical looking backyards he had ever seen. A large swimming pool glistened under the powerful nightlights. Softer lighting glowed here and there about the yard, diffused behind bamboo stands and bushes. A small building stood at one side of the pool. "Poolside service sounds great," he replied. "Man, this is a fantastic layout! Really beautiful!"

"I designed it myself." She stood close to him, elfin-ish with her short red hair and her full-breasted, broad-hipped figure encased in a tight crimson colored Capri-suit. Her feet were bare. Tiny feet with brightly painted toenails the same shade as the Capri-suit. "That's one of the nice things about having a husband who makes lots of money! It enables a gal to have the kind of surroundings she prefers!"

"Well, it's sure cool!"

"Thank you, Perry!" A small hand waved in the direction of the building near the pool. "You can change over there. I'll get some drinks ready-and join you for a swim."

"Great!"

She squeezed his arm, giving him a sly smile before turning and going back into the house. Walking over to the building he found it was comprised of two dressing rooms marked Gulls and Buoys with a tiny bathroom between them.

Emerging a few minutes later, wearing the trunks he'd bought that afternoon, he went to the deep end of the pool, poised for a few seconds on the edge-then dove expertly, plunging into the water with a very small splash. The water was warm. Like bathwater. Surfacing, he swam the length of the pool twice before resting, letting himself float on his back in the heated water while he stared up at the night sky where a few stars glittered through the haze typical of L.A. even after dark.

Now isn't this classy! he thought wryly. Wonder whether I should play it real respectful this time or make a pass at her? Don't want to disappoint her. But I don't want to rush it either. Guess I better just go along with whatever happens. Maybe she'll run true to type and make all the moves. It'd be safer that way. Yeah, I'll let her set the pace.

Swimming to the chromed ladder with a couple of powerful strokes, he climbed up from the water and stood dripping wet on the concrete deck. A slight breeze chilled his wet body and he dove back into the comforting warmth of the pool. It felt wonderful after the goose-pimpling touch of the wind.

Willa called to him, approaching the pool with a man's robe thrown over her arm, her hands balancing a tray with drinks on it in tall glasses. She wore a robe and he wondered what kind of a bathingsuit she had on under it and how she looked in it.

"I forgot to ask what you prefer so I took a big chance and made Salty Dogs," she said, putting the tray down at the pool's edge and tossing the robe over the back of a nearby chair. "Hope you haven't got anything against gin!"

"I dig gin," he said, paddling over and taking one of the glasses. "Hey, you build a great drink!" He drained the glass.

She sipped at her drink, eying him with a strange smile. "Want another one now or later?"

"Later."

Without a word she strolled to a nearby pole that held a switch-panel and a moment later the bright lights overlooking the pool died away, the entire area pitch black for a few seconds until Clark's vision adjusted to the darkness. By the faint light of a half-moon he saw Willa let the robe drop to the deck. She stood there, totally nude for a brief moment. Her breasts were still high and round. Her belly quite flat for a middle-aged woman. Her legs were short but shapely, and when she ran toward the shallow end of the pool along the deck, he saw that she was firmly fleshed. Even her broad, heavily padded behind just barely wobbled with each step she took. Jumping into the water, she laughed with delight. "God, but this feels terrific! Hope I didn't startle you by dousing the lights but I adore going naked in this warm water! Especially at night!"

There's my clue, he thought. She likes swimming naked at night with a guy she's just met. If that's not an invitation for action, I'll prob ably never see one! He clung to the pool's edge with one hand, pulling off his trunks with the other and letting them drift to the bottom of the pool. Slowly, he swam into the shallow end, reaching her as she crouched in a comer of the pool, her head thrown back against the stone-coping, apparently relaxed.

He put his arms around her bare waist, pulling himself close to her and getting a charge of excitement as their naked bodies met beneath the surface of the warm water.

"Hello!" she whispered.

"I want you," he said urgently. "Right here and now. Right here in the pool!"

She spread her legs, twining them around his waist and pulling him against her opened crotch. His penis went stiff with lust as its tip met the softness of her pubic nest-and when he pressed harder, it slipped into her vagina with slow, exhilarating deliberateness. She moaned huskily as the throbbing organ penetrated her, closing her eyes and clinging to him when he began rhythmically moving back and forth, thrusting the pulsing shaft of rigid flesh and muscle in and out of her organ.

Gradually, she became more passionate until her hips were frantically rotating and undulating in time to his repeated plunges and withdrawals-and suddenly her hands became claws that raked at his back while she mewed gibberish frenziedly and he knew she was climaxing. Waiting until her tension had begun subsiding, he let himself come-the delicious spasms racking his entire body.

Still clutching each other they rested silently in the warm water for long moments, their labored breathing the only sound in the night. Then as if by unspoken agreement they separated their bodies and he followed her up the steps leading out of the pool onto the deck. Handing him the robe she had brought out for him, Willa picked up her own robe from where it had been dropped.

"God, but that was good!" she said earnestly. "And I hope it's just the beginning of-of a long and satisfying friendship, darling boy!" She kissed him gratefully, her mouth hard upon his lips.

"Listen, I better be on my way," he murmured, knowing it was time to back-off so she would want him that much more, enabling him to gradually build a bond of yearning for him within her that would set her up for the stories he would give her later on. Stories that would quickly have her insisting that she be allowed to help him financially. "I hate to leave this early but I'm pretty bushed-and I've got a particularly hard day ahead of me tomorrow. Weekends are always busier at the market."

"I understand, dear. But you'll come back again tomorrow night?" She sounded awfully hopeful.

"Yeah, but it'll have to be after ten. I've got some personal business to take care of earlier in the evening. Okay?"

"Any hour is okay!"

"You really mean that?"

She nodded, holding his face between her hands and looking adoringly up at him. "Yes, I mean it. You're welcome here anytime you can get here-and I just pray it will be often. I need you, Perry. I'm terribly lonely. And I'll want you constantly. You're-you're wonderful to make love with!"

He stepped away from her. "Well, I gotta get dressed, Willa. I'll see you tomorrow night. You can count on it."

"I can hardly wait until then."

"It won't be long," he said in a low voice that he knew would make her tremble with hunger for him. "And we'll take our time-really enjoy ourselves to the fullest tomorrow night!"

"Oh, yes, darling!"

"Only-"

"Only what, dear?" She sounded anxious.

"Well, what about your daughter? Isn't she old enough to catch-on? Maybe figure out what's going on and write your hubby a letter or something?"

"She won't be any trouble. No threat at all, dear. You needn't worry about her."

"How do you know?"

Willa laughed harshly. "You'll understand what I mean after you've met her!"

He was still wondering what she meant and why she laughingly refused to explain it to him long after he'd left and lay in his own bed waiting for sleep to overtake his senses.

For the next three weeks Clark worked both day and night. Days, he maintained a pace at the market that kept him moving without particularly taxing his energies yet enabled him to look busy enough so he drew no critical attention from Gopher Face. Nights, he alternately made love to Debby and Willa, timing his sexual sessions with each of them so that he had one sexless night between Debby's visits to his pad and his trips over to Willa's house.

Gradually, he began feeding shit-stories to both of them. Telling Willa that he was trying to send money to his mother who was supposedly ill with an incurable disease and telling Debby that he needed money to make payments to a gambling syndicate that might threaten him physically were he to be unable to keep his payments upon a large loss-debt coming to them regularly. Both women accepted his stories without suspicion. Both began insisting that he let them help him financially, and when after a pretended refusal or two followed by acting obviously worried-he agreed to take their money as loans to be repaid at some future date, his bank account began fattening up swiftly.

Debby gave him between fifty and a hundred dollars each time she came to his apartment. Willa was solvent enough to make her contributions more impressive, giving him an even two hundred every time they finished having sex and he was ready to leave. By the end of a month he had fifteen-hundred, counting the cash he'd taken off the unfortunate homosexual he'd rolled, stashed in the bank.

Christ, this is beautiful! he gloated, staring at the mounting balance in his bankbook on the nights that he devoted to relaxing in bed, watching TV and resting. Ten more months of this and I'll have plenty to make it outa town and down to Acapulco-and those stupid cunts can go to hell for all I care!

His only worry was the fact that John Williams might show up at any time. Clark had decided that he would not repay the money Mae Williams had given him. Repayment was against his personal code, and as the weeks elapsed without another visit to the store by Williams, Clark's courage slowly reached the point where he knew his self-esteem would be badly damaged unless he figured a way to avoid repaying the money should Williams finally appear, demanding it back. I'll play it by ear if the jerk ever leans on me. Maybe he figured she was lying to him and decided to let the whole thing go. Wonder what that mouthy bitch told him, anyway. Musta been something or he wouldn't have come clear down to the store looking for me. Well, screw worrying about it. I'll just take things as they come.

The same week that Elaine quit her job without saying anything to anybody, Gopher Face, whose real name was Bayless, suddenly began really getting tough with all the employees-and he seemed to take a special delight in harassing Clark, hounding him for the smallest errors and always hovering in the background, apparently ready to jump Clark should he give the manager the slightest provocation for reprimand.

Clark took this treatment with more curiosity than resentment for several days, but eventually he started feeling the constant pressure Gopher Face was putting on him. What had been merely contempt and mild resentment turned into genuine hatred for the older man. And each day that Clark had to endure more of Gopher Face's self-righteous wrath only intensified that hatred until Clark realized that he. was seething with it and might not be able to stand it too much longer. This had never happened to him before. Previously, he'd gotten along very well with store managers, and he knew Gopher Face was gumming up his whole plan by putting the job in jeopardy, keeping him so edgy that it became nothing short of a miracle that he didn't bust the bastard in the face or just walk away, unable to take another shift with the old grouch snapping at him every halfhour.

Worst of all, the tension was affecting his ability to fuck the women he had nicely on the hook. Several times he had almost failed to satisfy them discovering that for some reason his usual virility was lacking. This both frightened and depressed him, although both women were understandingly sympathetic and chalked his difficulty up to being overworked and worried-Debby figuring it was the gambling syndicate and Willa assuming he was feeling miserable about his dying mother.

One night, after Debby had left his pad, smiling happily because he had managed to lay her twice during her evening's visit-screwing her in the doggystyle position that seemed to excite her more than anything else they had tried-he took another long, hot shower and faced some facts.

I'll have to start all over again-someplace else, he concluded glumly. I can't take anymore of Gopher Face's crap and still service those broads like I'll have to if I wanna keep them hot to go to bed with me! Goddamn that stinking son of a bitch! This is something I've never run into before. But getting another job is the only solution, I guess.

He had almost four thousand dollars in the bank now. And he doubted that he would have any trouble getting another job at one of the several chain markets in town. Changing stores wouldn't affect his relationships with Willa or Debby, but he was alarmed by the unexpected necessity to keep himself operatable by switching to a different job-and he loathed Gopher Face for this interruption in his routine which had been going so well.

Emerging from the shower he built himself a hefty triple martini and carried it into the bedroom, clicking on the TV and prepared to watch a couple of shows to give his churning mind a chance to quiet down before trying to get some sleep.

Just as he was settling himself on the bed, the phone rang. He knew it had to be either Willa or Debby because they were the only ones who knew his unlisted number.

It was Willa.

"Listen to me carefully," she said in a tight voice. "My husband came home a few minutes ago-quite unexpectedly and without any advance notice. Now don't get worried. We'll just have to stop seeing each other until he leaves again. I think he has to be back in the London office in a few days."

"All right, baby."

"I've got to go now, darling. I'll call again when everything is-is all right."

"That's cool," he agreed listlessly.

"Bye bye, love." She hung up.

Clark gave this setback some serious thought as he steadily drank three more triple martinis and paced the bedroom. Willa had slowly been getting to be a pain in the ass. She was so damned possessive and he had tired of screwing her weeks ago; but she was still handing out the two bills and that money was helping build up his reserves-adding to the bank balance so swiftly that he had forced himself to continue laying her solely for the purpose of getting the money.

He wondered about her husband's unexpected trip home. He doubted that their daughter

-whom he had been introduced to on his third visit to hump Willa-had anything to do with her father's sudden return. Charmian, the daughter, had been something of a surprise. She was obviously a real dyke-right down to the big wristwatch, the unplucked eyebrows and the mannish way she dressed. Just a sullen-faced, disinterested dyke in her middle twenties who let him know that she didn't give a damn what her mother or father did-so long as she was free to live her gay life without interference.

Willa had smiled bitterly when he told her that now he knew why she had been so sure her kid wasn't going to be any trouble to them. Charmian's sexual deviation was something Willa had accepted but still felt pretty lousy about, even so. Clark had almost felt sorry for the poor old bag. He often wondered how the husband must feel, knowing his only daughter was as queer as a hairy frog for other broads. But he was certain that Charmian hadn't blown the whistle on her mother.

His mind returned to Gopher Face.

Shit, I'll just quit the fucking job in the morning and have another one lined up within an hour after I've taken a walk. He belched loudly, suddenly realizing that he was getting stoned. All's not lost. Willa's old man will split for Europe and I'll still get plenty of bucks outa that horny old redhead before I'm ready to take a vacation from this racket. Meanwhile, Debby's a good lay and still handing out cash and keeping that bank-stash growing! Hell, I've got nothing to worry about, for Christssakes!

He began feeling much, much better.

Gopher Face smiled maliciously.

"I'm rather glad you're giving the store notice," he purred. "It saves me firing you which I intended doing, anyway-and would've done sometime ago if we had not experienced difficulty finding another young man experienced enough to replace you without training him."

Clark stared in confusion at the older man.

"I'm not giving any notice," he said through lips stiff with rage. "I'm quitting here and now, see? You've been on my goddamned back, treating me like I was dirt or something."

"That figures." Gopher Face nodded, still smirking mysteriously. "I gave you every opportunity to advance yourself. Well, I misjudged you, Clark. I'm rather grateful that a certain gentleman tipped me off to your despicable practices. You can consider yourself fortunate that your immorality has only cost you this position and nothing more."

Williams! Clark realized instantly. John Williams musta gone to this bastard and told him that I had been fooling around with Mae!

"What are you talking about?" Clark demanded.

"I think we both knoio what I'm talking about, you young troublemaker!" Gopher Face was no longer smiling. "Well, you're through, here, and I've taken the trouble to notify the managers of the other markets about you. I doubt that you'll get a job in this area. Not with every major chain market clearly informed as to the threat your presence creates!"

"Y-You blackballed me?" Fury coursed through Clark's mind and body, and only the knowledge that hitting Gopher Face would lead to immediate arrest stopped him from smashing that smirking face into a bloodied pulp. "You actually spread this crap to all the other stores?"

Gopher Face nodded. "Yes, I certainly did. And my advice to you is-leave this city. Go someplace else. And if you're lucky enough to get another job for a chain whose managers have not been told about you-leave the women customers alone!"

He turned and walked away.

"Wh-What about my pay?" shouted Clark, quivering with the effort to keep himself from running after the bastard and taking him apart. "I've got some money coming to me!"

"We'll mail it to you." Gopher Face turned, his face stony. "Now get out of this store and never set foot in it again unless you would like us to call the police!"

Clark became aware that a number of employees and customers had been listening to the latter part of the conversation and were staring at him with curiosity. He knew he was licked. There was no telling what John Williams and Gopher Face might do to him, legal ly, if he tried to bluff his way out of this mess. All they'd have to do was bring Mae against him as a witness and he was dead.

Still shaking with rage and dismay he left the market and stalked to his car, careening out of the parking lot a few moments later. Twenty minutes later he sat hunched over a double waterball in a small dark bar, huddled in a booth to the rear of the nearly empty place.

After several drinks some of the fury and most of the panic eased, leaving him numb but able to think more clearly. It's mostly just a matter of changing my plan a little, he decided. The hell with the big chains. I'll find a job in one of the smaller, independent markets. L.A. is a big town. Plenty of small stores where I can get a spot. Yeah, so much for that problem. I'll just have to be more careful-operating in a smaller joint. But I've got to get even with that bastard! Somehow, I've got to dream up some way to even the score with Gopher Face!

Then he remembered the honey-blonde girl who had visited the store, looking for her father a couple of times. She had been really a doll. Only about sixteen but stacked and built like nothing he had ever gotten his hands on. Clark licked his dry lips and motioned to the bland-faced bartender for another drink. He took a deep breath, now relaxing with the help of the booze in his stomach and beginning to feel human again. What was her name? Margorie? No. Marian? Shit, no. Marella-that's right!

Marella! As tasty a piece of jailbait ass as ever filled a sweater or swung her butt when she walked. And with a face that looked still innocent enough to believe in Santa Claus.

Clark began chuckling to himself. Yeah, this was the way to even things up considerably! Just catch that young cunt and pour it to her! It would be a brand new jolly-getting into pussy that young and pretty! She was probably cherry. At least, she acted like cherry. His penis grew rigid as he visualized the honey-blonde Marella's figure, recalling the few times he had seen her and had noted what a sweet little number she was, dismissing her as being too young and too related to management.

She was Gopher Face Bayless' daughter.

FIVE

He pumped steadily, holding her hips as his penis plunged in and out of her vagina. He had mounted her from behind and this position always seemed to bring Debby to a climax faster than any other they had tried. She was whimpering with pleasure now and he increased the speed and strength of his thrusts, feeling her quiver and hearing the shrill cry of ecstasy she always made at the moment her orgasm was reached.

Squirming frenziedly, she pressed backwards toward him, her behind moving up and down in her spasm of animal reaction to the climax she was experiencing. He gripped her smooth flesh more tightly, driving himself into her with savage force and feeling his own orgasm rising to a crest of enjoyment-and then he had finished shooting his load of juice into her, slumping tiredly upon her still trembling, naked body.

Gasping for breath, she slobbered incoherently with her face buried into the pillows. He pulled back, bringing his semi-erect organ wet and glistening out of her body. Wearily he clambered off the bed and went into the John where, after waiting for a moment, he urinated for a long time. When he returned to the bedroom she was lying on her back, quietly resting and in control of herself once more. She smiled sleepily up at him as he pulled on a pair of pants.

"You're absolutely unreal, lover! I mean, I've never known anything like this kind of lovemaking in my whole life!"

"You're giving me a fat head."

"Well, you're just marvelous!"

"Thanks, baby. Like a drink?" He held up her empty glass. She nodded without speaking, still smiling gently at him.

Building the drinks in the living room where they had left the vodka and mix and ice, he sighed deeply. They had been at it for what seemed like hours. He glanced at the wall clock. To be exact, they had been screwing for three hours and eighteen minutes. She had come four times to his two orgasms, mainly because he had kept enough control to let her have all she needed without exhausting himself completely, knowing that he would be wise to leave himself the margin of another two orgasms just in case anything unexpectedly sexual should arise within the next five or six hours. Carrying the drinks back to the bedroom, he found her already dressed and putting on make-up in the bathroom. Setting the drinks down on the bedside table, he sprawled across the rumpled sheets on his back.

"You sure take a lot outa a guy, baby!" He said it in a tone of genuine weariness. "Maybe you were kinda dumb, at first, for a married gal-but you sure come on like gangbusters now!"

She laughed, emerging from the bathroom and going to the bed, picking up her drink. "Yeah, I guess I was pretty inhibited at that. Well, I'd never even heard of some the wild things you've taught me. Honest. That shows you what kind of a man I married. All he knows how to do is jam himself in, get his own pleasure finished and roll over."

"Too bad."

"Having you has made up for all those years that I thought his routine was sex."

"Is he still getting transferred?"

"Afraid so. We're supposed to move in about a week. Any chance you could follow us? I'd give anything to be able to continue what we've got, honey." Her voice was wistful. "I know you don't want to marry me because I have the kids, but I'd leave that clown tomorrow if I thought you would."

"Sorry about that."

"Can't you possibly go to Chicago so we can keep on with our special kind of screwing?"

He sat up, looking directly at her. "Now, baby, we've been all through that ever since you first heard you were going to have to leave town. You know the spot I'm in. You sure as hell should by now, anyway, considering how much you've helped me. I try leaving and those syndicate guys will swarm me like anything. I've been told to stay put until all those losses are repaid."

She reached for her purse. "Well, the best I can do this time is this." She fished a sheaf of bills from the purse, extending them to him. He took them without counting them. "I wish it could be more but that's the last pay check I got-and I can only hope it'll help you get that damned syndicate paid off. Maybe, then, you'll come to Chicago and we can take up where we left off. It's going to be hell for me not to be able to sleep with you, do you know that?"

He stared at the carpet. "I know, I know, baby."

"I'll get another job after we're settled. Maybe I can send you more money from back there."

"Aw, you stop worrying about it. You were sweet enough to go to work just to earn the bucks you've been giving me. I feel like like, well, no guy should ever feel, taking the money from you. But those syndicate characters scare the shit outa me."

She put her arms around him, pressing her cheek against his chest. "God, but I'm going to have a miserable time of it-not being able to make love with you! Please take care of yourself, honey! And try to get back-if only for visits. Okay?"

"You know I will, baby."

She stood up, straightening her dress. "Well, I've got to get home before the good old husband does or there'll be hell to pay if his damned dinner isn't waiting for him."

Clark stood up, taking her into his arms and kissing her hard. She strained against him, her hunger for him emanating from her body's tenseness.

"Oh, I-I love you so much, darling!" Her voice quavered with emotion. "I better be on my way before I come unglued altogether!"

He patted her shoulder. "Don't worry, baby. We'll be together again. It won't take me too much longer to pay them off."

She kissed him again, then left after he went to the front door with her. He could hear her crying softly as she went down the hallway. Closing the door, he counted the bills clutched in his hand. She had given him a hundred and sixty dollars. He grinned to himself, going into the bedroom for his drink and carrying it to the kitchen where he put a TV dinner into the oven.

She had been a very good piece of ass, and when she had gotten a job just so she could give him money regularly without dipping into her husband's bank account, he had been almost as surprised as he pretended to be. But not quite that surprised. After all, he'd seen dolls do some extreme things in order to help him out of the phony problems that he'd shared with them. When the oven buzzer sounded a short while later, he sat down to eat-still not used to the fact that Debby was gone and would be just another remembered experience.

Hope to hell she doesn't hold her breath, waiting for me to shotv up in Chicago, he thought, grinning as he ate. Well, thanks to that clod she's married to, I've got almost five grand in the bank now. A damn sight more than I had when I hit this town.

Finishing the meal, he put the rest of his clothes on and hauling his three suitcases out of the closet, spent the rest of the afternoon packing his clothes and personal belongings carefully into them. He had decided to move to a less expensive pad since weeks had gone by without word from Willa, and he had no intention of meeting the high rent by dipping into what he had stashed in the bank.

A week earlier he had found a job in a small market and had rented a cheaper apartment within walking distance of it. All that remained now was to take the chance of reaching Willa by phone and letting her know that he was moving. He would have the same phone number at the other address but he was getting impatient, wondering why Willa had gone so silent. She had phoned a couple of times, telling him that her old man was due to return to Europe any day and begging him to bear with her until she was free to resume their affair. But she hadn't sent any money to him and he'd made it plain to her that without her help, he would probably have to get a night job in order to finance the hospital costs of his imaginary, sick mother. Willa had sounded helpless when she explained there just wasn't any way for her to get money to him while hubby was stateside-and he had given her the impression that he understood but was getting desperate since his mother was nearing the end.

In truth, Clark's parents had died several years earlier. Neither of them had known his whereabouts since he was twenty-and only a chance visit to his hometown of Yonkers, New York had clued him to the fact they were no longer living.

Lighting a cigarette, he sat down at the phone and dialed the market. A moment later the manager, a meek and unassuming man who was going to be no trouble at all to Clark, answered-his voice as colorless on the phone as it was in person.

"Mr. Rabin?" Clark asked.

"Yes, this is Rabin."

"This is Perry, Mr. Ragin. I think I'm going to be feeling well enough to come back to work in the morning," he lied. The day before, knowing Debby could only come over during the afternoon for their last session together he had faked up a convenient case of intestinal flu which Rabin had bought with no hesitation, insisting that Clark go straight home and stay there until he was well. "I got a flu shot from the doctor and he thinks I'll be okay by tomorrow."

"Well, fine," replied Rabin, concern in his voice. "But you take it easy, Perry. Be sure you're really up to it before you return to work."

"Thanks, Mr. Rabin. I will. But you can pretty well count on seeing me back by tomorrow."

Concluding the conversation, he waited a moment-then dialed Willa's number. It rang several times before she answered it.

"What's shaking, baby?" he asked.

"He's going to be home for a couple of days more. Then he leaves and will be gone for at least three months." Her voice was low, guarded. "I've missed you terribly, darling. You'll never know how much I've missed you. But we have only two more days to wait now. Be patient, darling."

Clark assured her of his patience and informed her that he was moving but that his phone number would remain the same, and they said goodbye.

Shit, yes, she's missed me! he thought, leaving the apartment with the suitcases. I'll just bet that snatch of hers is itching to be banged! If I can just figure a way to get a really nice chunk of money out of her, the old bag'll be past history from then on! By seven-thirty that night he completed moving all his stuff from the expensive apartment to the cheaper, shabbier one. Satisfied that the move had been finished, he got back into his car and drove downtown to the library where Gopher Face's lovely little daughter the delectable Marella-worked evenings as a trainee librarian.

It hadn't been too difficult getting a line on Marella's schedule. Once he found her street address, it had been easy to keep tabs on her daily activities. She went to high school. She worked nights at the library. She had practically no social life except for a few girl friends her own age. Clark couldn't figure out why such a living doll wasn't up to her ponytail in boy friends. He assumed that she might just be naive enough and obedient enough to agree with her parents that she was still too young for dating.

Entering the public library he found a seat at a table where he could pretend to be reading but he actually was keeping an eye on the main counter where Marella usually worked, checking books out or bent over the filing cabinets.

Selecting a book at random from a nearby shelf he sat down, glancing at the main counter from time to time. Finally she appeared, going behind the counter for a few minutes, then emerging from it to push a small, wheeled rack containing books to the shelves at the rear of the large room where she began carefully replacing books upon the shelves.

Clark studied her intently. She was tiny, but beautifully proportioned. Wearing a vivid yellow dress with a mini-skirt, she looked immaculately clean. Each time she bent for ward, the hem of her skirt was hoisted-giving him an exciting view of the backs of her thighs which were firmly rounded and made him squirm with desire to touch them, run his hand up them until he was feeling the nicely curved buttocks out-lined in her closely-clinging frock. Getting up and going to the bookshelves, he found a position from which he could watch her-pretending to be looking for a book from a different angle. Greedily he eyed the high, pointed breasts that jiggled with each motion of her body.

Look at those pretty cans bounce! he thought hotly. She's probably wearing a bra-and they're still heavy enough to jounce up and down. Bet they're smooth and white ivith pink nipples. Probably never been sucked! I'm going to enjoy getting to that broad's body! Cherry if I ever saw one! It's been a long time since I punched a cherry.

He hung around the library, always finding a new angle from which to watch Marella without her or anyone else in the place noticing how avidly he was studying her, until it was closing time. Then he went outside, waiting for her to come out. After a few minutes she emerged from a side-entrance and stood waiting at the curb. Clark sauntered over to her, a pleasant smile on his face.

"Hi, Marella!" he said cheerfully.

She turned, startled.

"Hi," she said uncertainly. "Do I know you?"

"Well, probably not. I used to work in the same store your dad manages. I've seen you in the place a few times but I don't think you ever noticed me."

She smiled shyly. "Well, how did you know my name? You gave me quite a start!"

"Sorry about that. I've heard your dad call you by your name. He probably wouldn't appreciate having me standing here, talking to you though."

"Why not?"

"He fired me not long ago. I had it coming, I guess. You know, just didn't work as hard as I probably should've." Clark shrugged, grinning. "No hard feelings on my part. I guess he was right."

"He's-he's awfully strict."

"You got a ride home?"

She shook her head. "I ride the bus."

"How about letting me drive you home? I've got wheels parked over there." He gestured at the nearby sports car and watched her face brighten with interest as she spotted the lowslung car. "To be honest about it, I've wanted to meet you for a long time. Hoped I might get a date with you."

She actually blushed, a smile of pleasure making her even prettier. "My-my father doesn't let me go on dates. And I don't think he'd like it if you drove me home. B-but thanks, anyway."

"Aw, he doesn't have to know, does he?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I can drop you off a few houses away from your place. He'll never know the difference. How old are you, Marella?"

"Fifteen." Indecision tumbled across her face and she gazed longingly at the sports car. "I don't-I don't know. I've always wanted to ride in one of those. But I don't want to make my father mad."

Clark laughed. "What he doesn't know isn't going to make him mad! Come on, I'll give you a lift and show you what it feels like to take a trip in a really cool set of wheels." He took her arm gently and she didn't resist, following him to the car.

"Golly, I don't want him to find out!" She giggled nervously. "This is the first time I've ever done anything I wasn't supposed to do!"

"It's not fair."

"What's not?" She got into the car, settling herself and looking around its interior with admiration. Clark walked around, getting into the car and easing behind the wheel. "It's just not fair to keep a doll as pretty as you so restricted. You look a lot older than fifteen."

"You really think so?" She seemed pleased.

"Sure. And I know some girls younger than you who are allowed to go out once in awhile. After all, this isn't 1890, y'know!"

She laughed happily. "Y-you're right, but my father is just a terribly strict parent!"

"Maybe we can get around him-if you want to."

She stared thoughtfully out the window. "Like how would we do that?"

"Just like right now." Clark started the engine, pulling away from the curb. "You're not doing anything really wrong. You're just allowing yourself a little social life like other girls have. If you have to be cool about it and not let your father know-where's the big crime?"

"Gee, I dunno."

"Of course, it's up to you, Marella. But I sure would like to see more of you."

"I don't even know your name."

"Jack Jones," he lied smoothly. "Kinda nothing of a name but the one I was given!"

"Glad to meet you," she said primly.

"Look, I'm going to a really great party down at the beach tomorrow night. Why don't you let me pick you up at the library-and go with me? You'd have a real ball! Honest! There's even going to be some movie stars there! I'll bet you've never met a real movie star before."

"Which ones?" She looked dazed, intrigued.

"I'm not too sure but I think my buddy the guy throwing the party-said he might be able to have a couple of kids he went to school with show up." He named several teenage motion picture entertainers, watching the excitement appear on her face. "All it would really cost you is a night of working at the library, and you could tell them that you're not feeling good. They'd buy it, wouldn't they?"

She nodded. "I-I guess so."

"It's a date?"

She looked straight into his eyes with an expression of excited determination. "Yes, it's a date! I'd love to go! I've never had a date in my whole life, and it's time I did something I wanted to do! But I'll have to be home by the time I usually get back from the library, Jack."

"No problem. Have you home right on time and your dad'll be none the wiser!" He grinned at her reassuringly. "I promise you it'll be the wildest night any girl ever had for a first date!"

"It sounds wonderful!"

Stopping the car half-way down a block on a street that she guided him to, he helped her out of the car. "See you tomorrow night," he said in a low voice, holding her hand for a moment. "Right, Marella?"

She smiled trustingly up at him. "R-right, Jack!"

Then she walked quickly away, heading down the street toward her home. He stood, watching her behind waggle as she walked away from him-knowing that its seductive motion wasn't being done deliberately and was just an unconscious part of her normal movements.

Christ, what an innocent little cunt! he mar veled, getting back behind the wheel and driving away from the curb in a full circle that took him in the opposite direction from her house. This is going to be awful, damned interesting-getting into her pants and really sexing up a storm with a doll who probably hasn't even been kissed! Shit, she'll know a lot more than she does now by the time I'm through with her! To think that gorgeous bod is going to be all mine tomorrow night! Wow!

He played with his throbbing erection all the way home to the new pad. When he got there, he phoned Willa. He had a smooth lie all ready in case her old man answered the phone but it wasn't necessary to use it.

"Hello?" said Willa's throaty voice.

"Honey, this is Perry."

"Oh, God, but it's good to hear your voice again! You don't know how much I've missed you-suffered without being able to see you!" Her voice quavered with emotion. "He's asleep. He leaves in the morning for overseas. Isn't that wonderful, lover?"

"Hubby, you mean?"

"I don't mean Mickey Mouse!" She chuckled happily. "God, I can hardly wait to feel your strong arms around me! But it won't be long!"

"Well, it looks like hubby isn't the only one who'll be traveling tomorrow, baby." He managed to put a note of depression into his voice. "Afraid I've got bad news."

"What's the matter, dear?" She sounded alarmed.

"My-My mother died." He almost whispered the words, letting a silence follow in which he simulated a muffled sound that could be misinterpreted for a sob. "She went this afternoon."

"Oh, lover!" Willa was all sympathy. "I'm so sorry-terribly sorry, darling! Is there anything I can do?"

"Well-yeah, but I hate like hell to ask."

"Stop that! You know I want to help you. Now just tell me what I can do!"

"I need money to get there and back, and-and to swing the funeral." He said it hoarsely, hoping she would buy it.

"How much do you need, lover?"

"Aw, I can't ask you to come up with it! It's just not right! I just-just don't know what I'm going to do! I wanted to talk with you because I need to-" he broke off deliberately, simulating another broken sob.

"Now, listen to me!" she told him gently but firmly. "I want to help you! I love you very much and your problem is my problem, darling! So please just tell me how much money you'll need to take care of everything!"

"F-Five-thqusand," he whispered dully.

"You've got it."

"Oh, you're-you're unreal, baby! I don't know how to-"

"Never mind! I'm glad to be able to do it. A boy only has one mother! And you've been so worried about her! I love you so much and I'm very proud of you, Perry! So stop trying to thank me!"

They talked a little longer before the conversation ended. He built himself a drink and carried it into the front room, sitting on the couch and lighting a cigarette. This absolutely wild change in plan had occurred to him earlier while he was planning how to get Marella in a place where he would even the score with Gopher Face by raping the shit out of her. It would be dumb to stick around L.A. for awhile-just in case she gave a good description of him so he had decided the thing to do was collect as much loot as possible to go with the four grand in the bank-and split for elsewhere. He was tired of fooling around with Willa. She disgusted him now.

I'll sell the goddamned car, too, he decided. I oughta be able to get a grand out of it. All told, I should have something like ten-thou when I climb on that plane! Shit, I'm overdue for a vacation! After I've played for awhile, I'll just pick another town and start this gig all over again! Maybe I'll luck-out and get a more solid thing going with better looking dolls! Meanwhile, Mexico-here comes cuntlover Clark, ready or not!

Finishing his drink and satisfied that he had worked out a good plan of action, he went back to his car and drove down to the beach that night, patiently looking for the right spot to bring Marella. It had to be isolated and not likely to be patrolled by the fuzz. After a couple of hours of searching critically, he found a small canyon leading down to the sea. At its lower end the paved road stopped altogether. Beyond lay a small, curving beach studded with rocks. He checked the entire area out on foot and saw it would be perfect. The car could be hidden so it wouldn't be spotted from the highway. And he would lead her far enough from the car that they would still be unseen even if the car were checked out by some cop off the beaten track.

Lastly, she could make all the noise she wanted because the thunder of the surf and the sheer walls of rising rock cliffs would prevent any racket she made from going too far.

He returned to town, feeling more excited than he had ever felt in his life. For one thing, he'd never gotten what he wanted from a woman in this way, using force if necessary. He was certain it would be necessary. Marella would protest and fight, but she didn't stand a chance.

It was so beautiful. He would be getting even with that bastardly Gopher Face Bayless and having a choice, young piece of ass at the same time. A real package deal. By arranging to sell the car before he used it for the last time, he could quickly unload it the day after his night of fun and games with Marella, stop by Willa's for the five-thousand, stop by the bank for the rest of his bucks-and be safely aboard a plane by the time any trouble might be stirring up. And that was assuming Marella would even cop out. He had heard that many broads never reported being raped to the police.

But he would split swiftly, anyway.

SIX

She was almost giddy with freedom.

Walking over the soft sand, still warm from the daylong sunlight that had faded to darkness hours earlier, Clark held her hand and watched her trodding beside him as he led her away from the car and up the deserted beach.

"Golly," she babbled, "this sure is a funny place for anyone to live! You'd think they'd have a driveway or a road of some kind right to their house!"

"The guy likes privacy," he murmured, glancing over his shoulder, seeing nobody and satisfied that the car was safely out of sight now that it had been carefully parked behind some boulders off the narrow road leading down the canyon. "Privacy is a pretty necessary thing, y'know, for a lotta people."

"Is it much farther?"

"No, we're almost there. You getting tired? I'll be glad to carry you."

"Oh, no thanks!" She laughed happily. "I love the feel of this sand on my bare feet!"

After getting out of the car and being informed that they would have to walk a distance, she had gladly removed her shoes and stockings, insisting upon carrying them as they went down onto the beach and started following it along the water's edge. "Besides, I'm no lightweight! You'd get all tired out, carrying me!"

"It might be more fun than you think."

"Oh, really?" She used a flirty tone.

"Sure, it might be very exciting for me, anyway. You've got a beautiful build. I'd love to hold you in my arms on the excuse that I'm forced to carry you to the party." He grinned at her, fighting to keep from starting the whole thing right there since another backwards glance told him that it would be safer to be a bit further up the beach, hidden in the fog that was drifting in over the water.

"Now don't talk fresh," she chided him lightly. "This is just our first date. You'll spoil it if you get fresh!"

"Is that a fact?"

She nodded, smiling up at him. "Listen, it's getting awfully foggy. You sure you can find the house if this fog gets any thicker, Jack?"

"No problem."

"Gosh, I'm getting so excited!"

"So am I," he agreed, thinking: Baby, if you knew how excited I'm getting-and what about-you'd be streaking down that goddamned beach as fast as your gorgeous legs could take you! He glanced at her, seeing the way her body moved in the snug, miniskirted dress she wore and feeling himself get the beginnings of a hard-on from the way her full breasts bounced with each step she took. Shit, I can't wait any longer! I've got to get going-get my hands and mouth on those goodies! It might as well be here as anywhere else! Holding her hand firmly, he stopped and she half-stumbled before stopping with him. He gazed at the clusters of rocks back from the water where the sand was soft and dry and warm. Two huge formations formed a cozy nook where it could happen-and not be seen from ten feet away.

"This way, Marella," he said, starting toward the rocks, pulling her along behind him. "Over here."

"I-I don't see any-any house."

"There isn't any house."

"What? No house? I d-don't understand." She staggered behind him, resisting slightly but unable to keep from being pulled along. "WhWhat do you mean, Jack?" Her voice rose on a note of fear.

Safely surrounded by the rock formations, he released her hand, facing her. "Always I've had to lie and con and bullshit-and I'm tired of it, see? So I'll just give you the straight truth, baby." He grinned into her confused, worried expression.

"I w-want to g-go home!" she whined.

"Forget it! The only party is going to take place right here. Just you and me! Yeah, I lied to you, baby. So sue me. But you're out here with me and we're going to have lots of fun-you and me. Are you getting the picture?"

"Oh, no!" she whimpered, staring at him with horror slowly washing over her face. "You-you m-mean-"

He nodded. "That's right, baby! We're going to have our own party! We're going to suck and fuck and everything!"

She went pale with fear, shuddering visibly. He put his arms around her waist, feeling the warmth and firmness of her body, pulling her belly close against his so she would be able to feel the long, hard penis throbbing with desire. For a moment she was relaxed, and his hands roamed up to her breasts-cupping them gently and feeling the nipples harden beneath his rubbing fingers.

"Hey, little daddy's girl," he said thickly, his fingers tightening around each heavy globe of flesh under her dress, "let's see what you look like without any clothes on!"

He buried his face into her throat, smelling the sweet clean odor of her hair and skin, nibbling at her soft flesh and moaning as he ground her belly into his by pressing harder against her.

Suddenly, she jerked herself free of his embrace, turning and running. He chased her, catching her in no more than a dozen steps holding her from behind as she struggled and fought, yelling incoherently as she tried to free herself again.

"Yell all you want!" he said, laughing. "Nobody can hear you!"

She stopped struggling, panting for breath as she stood tense but motionless. His hands caressed her breasts again, learning their firm softness. "Look, baby," he said softly. "Face it. You're going to let me do anything I want to you, see? You can't get away. And if you put up too much of a fight, I'll just knock you out. You want me to do that? Getting knocked cold hurts like hell, baby. Why don't you just relax and enjoy it?"

"Wh-What are you going to do?" Her voice shook with rage and fear. "J-Just what are y-you going to do to me?"

"I'll show you-just as soon as you take off your clothes. You might even like it!"

Without warning she resumed struggling, her fists flailing at him in an effort to hit him even though he stood behind her. Grabbing her wrists, he held them together in one hand. With his other hand he ripped at her dress, tearing it from the neckline down her back. She screamed as the ruined dress dropped to the sand.

Then he snapped the bra straps with a single, savage motion-hurling the bra away from them and grasping the upper edge of her panties, pulled them down quickly until they were around her knees. Still holding her wrists, his free hand ran across her bare, warm breasts and down her slightly rounded belly, fingers reaching the crisp pubic hair over the fatty mound between her legs-fondling her intimately and hearing her gasp as he touched her slit, feeling for the clitoris. When he found it she began trembling as he played with it standing behind her and chuckling gleefully.

"Man, that's a nice little pussy! So tight and tucked-in! Goddammit but I'm going to love fucking you until you're blue in the crotch, baby!"

Weakly, she struggled again, moaning.

Turning her around, he chopped at her jaw with the free hand clenched into a fist. The shock of the blow stunned her and he let her slump into a huddled heap of naked flesh on the sand. Quickly removing his own clothes while she lay there, now sobbing quietly, he got down beside her.

"Mmmmmm! You're pretty tasty looking, baby!" He nibbled at her breasts, tonguing the tautened nipples and sucking hard as he massaged one breast with his greedy mouth, the other with a hand. She turned from side to side, crying noisily and trying to escape the demanding mouth and hand without actually struggling to get on her feet. She seemed to know it was useless to do anything but submit to him, yet submission wasn't easy for her so she threshed in protest against the intimacies.

After a long while in which he nursed hungrily on each of her pale, firm breasts and let his free hand wander down into the thicket of golden pubic hair where he fingered and fondled her fatty mound with its neatly folded slit

-he shifted position, putting his head between her smooth thighs, his face close to her genitals. He grimaced distastefully.

"You must be a dumb virgin," he said lifting his face and repositioning himself higher until their bellies touched. "You smell a little too musky for me, baby! I can't eat pussy that ripe! But I sure can do something else with it!"

She lay beneath him, her contorted face staring up past him. Gently, he guided the tip of his erected organ until it pressed directly into the lips of her vulva, right at the vaginal opening. She shuddered at the touch of it. Slowly letting his weight push the pulsing penis against her organ, he entered her very carefully. She twitched with the pain of it as his rigidity burst her hymen, gasping sharply in pain as he moved himself deeply into her cunt

-his breathing becoming faster as lust urged him to move faster toward satisfaction.

Undulating his hips steadily he began pumping in and out of her, marveling at the tightness of her pussy and feeling its snugness increasing his own rapidly approaching orgasm as he moved rhythmically against and away from her. She cried steadily, her sobs and moans intermingled with small sounds of pain as he made rotary motions, gradually moving faster as the old familiar frenzy of coming suddenly rose to the end of his penis-explosively flooding her with his hot juices while he slammed into her organ again and again with brutal force.

When the spasms had ceased, he lay momentarily exhausted by them upon her, panting for breath and hearing her heart pound beneath the sweet smelling flesh of her breast under his ear.

"Shit, that was great, baby! I really enjoyed that! I'm sorry I had to hurt you, but then, you wouldn't want to stay cherry all your life!" Lifting himself upon his hands and knees, he moved a few feet away, digging into his pants pocket for cigarettes and lighter.

"C-Can I go h-home now?" she asked in a thin, small voice. "I w-want to go home, plplease."

He laughed. "Hell, the night's still young, baby. You don't want to be a party-pooper, do you? Why, we've still got lots of things to do!"

"Pl-Please let me g-go!" she begged, crying.

"Nothing doing, baby. Not until I've had all I want of you, see? And that may take a long while yet because I've still got three or four really good fucks left in me tonight." He blew a cloud of smoke at her, grinning. "You've come this far. You might as well go the whole route. Why don't you make up your mind to just enjoy it?"

"I-I h-hate it!" Her tone was cold.

"Too bad. I happen to dig screwing you and it'll be over when I say so."

"If y-you'll let me go now, I promise not to tell anybody what you've done. Honest. I won't ever tell anybody about this if you'll just let me g-go now. You don't h-have to drive m-me home. Just let me go!" The pleading tumbled out of her mouth in a torrent of frightened sound.

"Hell, I don't give a shit whether or not you make a big secret out of tonight, baby! Nobody's going to be able to find me, anyway."

"Pl-Please don't make me do it anymore!"

He moved atop her, silently forcing her legs apart and easing his body between them, rubbing his penis against the wetness of her organ, ignoring her pleas and sobbing protests.

"Here we go again, baby!" he grunted, jamming the now-hard penis into her yielding organ and hearing her long, shrill scream as he plunged deeply into the warmth and tight moistness.

Resting, he studied her. She sat opposite him, slumped against a rock and staring dully at the sand. She looked like a beautiful, naked zombie. And she had stopped crying sometime earlier, submitting to everything he had done with a slackness to her body that told him she was probably in shock of some kind.

Never heard of just getting fucked ever killing a broad, he thought uneasily, exhaling smoke. Wonder if she's got a bad ticker or anything like that? If I ask, she'll only say she does in order to have me knock off sexing it up with her.

"You feeling all right?" he demanded.

She didn't look at him or speak.

Going to her, he pulled her onto her hands and knees. She knelt that way, still silent, still staring down at the sand with a face empty of all expression. Getting between her legs, he pushed his soft penis up into the crevice formed by her buttocks, feeling himself grow hard with excitement as he worked the organ further up until its end was throbbing against the greasy lips of her vulva. He entered her with a single thrust of his body, his hands holding her around the waist to steady her against the motions he was making as he ruthlessly drove his straining penis in and out, the excitement rising but not as strong now. Having already climaxed five times that night, he was reaching satiation. When the orgasm was reached, it was little more than a weak repetition of the earlier ones.

Withdrawing from her body, he wiped his penis on her panties. Rising to his feet, he dressed quickly. She was slumped on the sand now, her face buried in her arms but not crying or making a sound.

Better get the hell out of here, he decided, and turning, walked away. No telling what the fuck may be wrong with her. I've heard of some dolls going ding-ding after being screwed. Maybe that's what's wrong with her. Well, tough titty. I enjoyed every minute of it. I got even with her old man. Now I've got to split. He stopped, listening. Still no noise from where she lay behind in the darkness. If she stays right there, quiet like that, she won't be found for a week. Maybe she'll come around and start stumbling down the beach after daylight.

He quickened his pace and reached the car a few moments later. Starting the engine, he swung the car around and drove at a sedate speed up the canyon, not seeing any other traffic. Even the coast highway was exceptionally quiet with only a few scattered cars going in both directions. Easing onto it he glanced at his watch in the light from the dashboard. It read: eleven-forty-five.

An hour later he was pulling into a parking space in front of his apartment house. Quietly going to his pad, he began packing the best of his clothing into two suitcases. Between trips from the dresser and closet to the suitcases, he fixed himself a drink and sipped at it thoughtfully, finally deciding it might be pretty cool to drive his luggage to the airport, check in for a morning flight and be all set to leave the moment he had the money from Willa and from selling the car. He'd phone for a cab to take him back to the airport.

Once he found himself wondering if Marella was still sprawled silently on the sand or if she had finally pulled herself together and was walking back up from the beach.

Later, returning from the airport with his luggage already being flown ahead of him on a late night flight and his ticket-a one-way fare to La Paz, Baja California-in his pocket, he made himself comfortable on the bed without removing his clothes. Setting the alarm-clock for nine, he fell asleep with no difficulty. His last thought was: Christ, after all that screwing tonight, I probably won't be able to throw a fuck into anybody for a week! Well, now I know what jailbait is like. Very tender stuff. I'll have to see if the Mexican variety is as enjoyable.

His dreams were populated with young Mexican girls.

Willa was all sympathy.

"You poor boy! I wish there were more I could do to ease your pain!" She slithered over from the couch where she had been seated while she had given him the five-thousand dollars in gorgeous green cash. Now she wiggled her ass around in his lap, obviously trying to excite him and apparently hoping he would lay her before he left. He had no intention of doing anything so sickening. With her money safely stashed in his billfold, he found himself nauseated by the sight and sound of the old bat.

"I better go," he mumbled. "Don't wanna miss the plane."

"Isn't there time for-for at least-" She searched his face with pleading eyes. "I mean, I know you're terribly upset, lover, but it's been so long since we made love. And I won't see you again for several weeks."

He shook his head. "Sorry, Willa. I'm too shook to be very good in bed."

"Just let me be the judge of that," she begged.

"No, dammit!" He rose, almost spilling her off his lap and onto the floor. "I'm not going to screw you and that's final!"

She stared at him, stunned by his abrupt change in manner. Anger began smoldering in her heavily made-up eyes. He looked at her, wondering how in hell he had ever been able to stomach the redheaded old cunt. She was disgusting. That potbelly. Those flabby tits. The gnarled legs with veins lacing them.

"You needn't be so crude about it!" she snapped. "I know you're upset but, after all, I'm helping you at a time when damned few people would be willing to involve themselves in your problems. I've been helping you for a long time. The least you might do is-'is take care of my need."

He studied her, thinking: It'd be a gas to just tell her the truth. I wonder what that stupid broad would do if I just stood right here and admitted I have no mother. That I'm not going to any funeral. That I've just conned her out of a lot of bucks-and that I can't stand the sight of her, anymore! Shit, she'd be on that phone and blowing the whistle to the cops in ten-seconds. Better just back outa here as quiet and quick as possible.

"Yeah, you're probably right," he muttered, going to the front door and pausing there. "But I'm just not in shape for it, Willa. I'll make up for today when I get back."

"I want to go to bed now!"

"No can do," he said flatly and left the house, hearing her flood of profanity and angry abuse explode behind him. She burst onto the porch just as he was pulling away from the house, her face a mask of fury and bitter frustration.

She was still yelling when he turned the comer and headed toward the used car lot.

SEVEN

Clad in brief trunks and lounging lazily in the deck-chair, Clark squinted against the blazing sunlight, watching the Sea of Cortez glittering a few hundred feet distant. Above him a flawlessly blue sky with only occasional gulls violating its emptiness. Behind him the spacious house he'd leased for a ridiculously low price. After a two-week stay at the hotel in La Paz he had found this house was available and had taken it immediately. Located on the beach fifty miles north of La Paz, it offered him a great deal of privacy and luxurious solitude without entirely isolating him from the bright lights and excitement of La Paz only a half hour drive away.

Footsteps interrupted his sunbathing and he slipped the sunglasses over his eyes, expecting to see either Juan or Isabella Cantu-the middle-aged couple who ran the house for him bringing his mid-morning tall, cold drink.

Instead, he looked up to find Emilio Murphy standing nearby, smiling his oily smirk. Clark had met the enterprising Murphy at the hotel in La Paz. Half-Mexican, half-American, Murphy was a small, smoothly articulate man who specialized in obtaining various services for the wealthy women tourists who came to La Paz seeking adventure and romance. He had quickly spotted Clark for being exactly the sort of young and handsome man who might best help his bored and restless clients, providing paid companionship in every activity from skin diving to muff diving. They had talked a few times, with Murphy making a business offer, but Clark hadn't been ready to get involved with any kind of racket and they had agreed to discuss it at a later date. That had been almost a month ago. Now Murphy was obviously here to resume the discussion.

"Park it," Clark invited, motioning at an empty chair. "What's shaking in merry La Paz, man?"

Murphy sat gingerly on the chair, fanning himself with his hat. "I have a client."

"Yeah, so?"

"She's tired of the social pace and wants to get out of La Paz for awhile. I described your place to her. She's interested in meeting you. The lady will gladly pay five-hundred American dollars per day for-" Murphy's smile widened oozily, "-for a virile and charming escort who will accompany her on skin diving trips or any other diversions that may ease her ennui."

"Lemme guess," murmured Clark staring straight up into the cloudless sky. "She's about fifty. She looks like a sack of potatoes with the face of a painted mummy. She's bitchy. In short, she's a real pig. Right?"

"Wrong, my friend. Mrs. Sheila Youmans is perhaps thirty-five and looks twenty-five. Her figure could win beauty contests. Her manner is quite sweet and reasonable. She is no beast."

"And what about her old man?"

"Too busy being a captain of industry in the states to keep track of his poor little wife who takes constant trips to ease her loneliness."

"Sounds like a good thing."

"We'll split the daily fee. I'll bring the lady here in three days. She owns a nice little boat. We'll come up by water." Murphy gestured at the boat-landing extending from the nearby shore into the almost surfless water. "Look for us to appear there in three days and prepare to be a charming host and companion."

"We don't split the fee. You'll get a hundred a day for finding her. Even if she doesn't eat like a glutton or drink heavily there will be expenses. So forget the fifty-fifty plan, man."

Murphy's broad face went blank. "A hundred a day isn't quite fair, my friend."

"Take it or leave it, buddy-boy." Clark grinned maliciously at him. "I'm not rich but I've got enough bucks to live here for a long time without doing a damned thing to get money. You need me worse than I need you. That's a fact, man."

Murphy nodded, his expression dour. "Yes, I can see the logic in that, even though your greed saddens me considerably. Make it a hundred and fifty a day."

"Keep haggling and it drops to seventyfive."

Murphy sighed deeply. "Done-at a hundred."

"Want a drink?"

"No, I must return to La Paz. There are other irons still in the fire. You drive a very hard and disappointing bargain, my friend." Murphy stood up, dabbing at the sheen of perspiration on his face with a handkerchief. "You may expect Mrs. Youmans in three days, then. I know I can depend upon you to see that she's treated-uh-most effectively."

"Yeah, she'll be taken care of."

Murphy left the sundeck and a few moments later Clark heard the muffled sound of his car as it pulled away from in front of the house. Staring thoughtfully at the sparkling sea, Clark wondered what Sheila Youmans would be like. Probably bitchy, he figured. Bitchy but richy. Well, to see four-bills a day rolling in I can put up with a lot of bitchiness, that's for damned sure! She'll probably want to screw around the clock for the first few days-and since I haven't had any ass in over a week-not since I laid that cute barmaid from the cantina in the crummy little village up the road-I should be able to pour the cock to the lady without getting pooped, no matter how much she wants. I just hope to God she's not a gung-ho skin diving enthusiast. Guess I'm getting lazy or something, but that all-day underwater crap is a drag. Maybe I'll luck out and she'll be hung-up on indoor sport activities and sunbathing!

Remembering his night of passion with the barmaid sparked his lust and he rubbed at his penis, feeling the need for release urgently again. He thought about one particular girl she couldn't be more than twelve or fifteen even though she had a fully developed body that really turned him on-whom he had seen during the few times he had visited the small village a mile north of his house. She worked in the kitchen of the cantina. He had asked about her and had been told she was called Josefa Martinez. She made the barmaid look like an old hag, and the barmaid was a sexy-plus doll.

Juan appeared, bringing the cold drink and as he was putting it on the tiny table beside the deck-chair, Clark cleared his throat.

"Juan, tell me something," he said.

"Si, senor."

"You know anything about Josefa Martinez?"

Juan paused for a moment, his bland expression covering his thoughts. "Si ... senor. She is the youngest daughter of Porfirio Martinez. Hardly more than a little girl, senor."

"What if I wanted her?"

"Senor?" The bland expression grew blander.

"I want to lay her, Juan. I dig the little chick. I'm willing to pay to have her."

"She is no puta, no whore, senor. She is a good girl. She works hard to help her family. Profirio has fathered many children. He is not a rich man."

"Cool. So I'll pay him a hundred Mexican pesos if he'll agree to send her over here when I want her." Clark studied Juan's face. "And you get the same amount if you swing the deal for me."

Juan's face brightened.

"She is very young, Senor Clark. Only thirteen years in this world. And a virgin."

"Yeah, so?"

"Porfirio is an honorable man."

"Okay, make it two-hundred pesos all around."

"I shall do my best, senor!" From the broad smile of confidence on Juan's face, Clark knew it was in the bag. "I shall discuss your offer with Porfirio."

"Yeah, detail the deal. I won't hurt her. I just want to introduce her to the mysteries of life and all like that."

"Mi esposa, my wife will not approve of this. I must keep it from her."

"Do that little thing, amigo."

Juan nodded, grinning conspiratorily and silently left the sun-deck. Clark sipped the icy drink, savoring the bite of its tequila base. Shit, all I have to do now is keep from jackingoff until Mrs. Rich Bitch gets here. Which won't be easy, knowing I'm going to have that Josefa soon. But I better save the lead for Rich Bitch. I can get around to the Mexican cherry later on, after I'm tired of the client! He lay back, removing the sunglasses and feeling the heat glow against his eyelids, knowing the tropical sunlight was deepening the already bronzed tint of his skin. Man, this sure beats sacking groceries in some fucking market and playing around with a pack of horny housewives!

She arrived right on schedule.

Juan spotted the sleek, white cruiser as it came in from the sea and by the time it pulled alongside the seaward end of the dock, Clark was there waiting, hands on his hips, grinning cheerfully and catching the bow-line tossed to him by the Mexican deckhand who hopped upon the dock, busily securing the stern-line. Stepping aboard the compact but expensive boat, Clark watched Mrs. Sheila Youmans-wearing short-shorts and a halter vividly yellow against her deeply tanned flesh-emerge from the cabin. She regarded him solemnly, an undeniably beautiful woman with ash-blonde hair, green eyes, a thin face but whose body was amply endowed-the waist tiny, the breasts high and full, the hips wide and seductive, the legs beautifully shaped and tapering to delicate ankles and small feet. He held out his hand and she grasped it firmly, a faint smile easing the seriousness of her expression.

"I'm Perry Clark," he said. "Welcome, Mrs. Youmans. As the clowns around here put it, my house is your house."

"Perry, you're a sight for eyes weary of the jerks infesting La Paz. I'm Sheila. Never call me anything else unless you're pissed at me!"

They both chuckled briefly and she eyed him with obvious approval. He knew he looked pretty primitive wearing only cut-off khaki pants, sandals and his heavily bronzed tan. He could see the effect that his handsomeness was having upon her: the hunger had sprung into her face the first second she saw him. Confidence flooded him. He had passed the most important test or she would be reserving judgment, behaving more formally.

With the boat secured they dismissed the deckhand, who headed immediately for the nearby village, and Clark, linking her arm in his, walked her to the house where he gave her a detailed tour.

"That's your room," he said, showing her the simply but comfortably furnished guestroom.

"Oh? Where's your room?"

"Just down the hall."

She smiled warmly up at him. "Then, it's now our room. I loathe being alone. Especially at night. Particularly in bed."

"Sounds wonderful."

"It probably will be-unless you're inhibited." She put a hand lightly over his penis, squeezing it gently beneath his pants. "I want a shower, a drink and you-in just that order."

"Right!"

Twenty minutes later he lay on the bed, nude, his arms behind his head, watching her head bobbing up and down as she sucked his penis, her naked body writhing with the pleasure performing the act gave her. He relaxed, feeling her expert mouth sliding up and down over the organ's sensitive head, her tongue moving teasingly as she nursed with greedy enthusiasm. He hadn't even kissed her yet. She had simply returned from the shower-breathtakingly naked and beautiful-found him waiting on the bed and had gone down on his stiffened organ without a word. Her lips tightened, bringing the lust within the pulsating penis rising fast-and he exploded within her mouth, the enjoyable spasms of climax making him squirm. She drank the discharge with noisy relish, moaning as he completed the orgasm.

"Hey, that was nice!" he said softly.

"All my pleasure." She wiped her mouth on the edge of the sheet. "I suppose you'll think I'm terribly warpy, but that's what I like best"

"My turn?" He twisted around, ready to burrow his face between the creamy thighs, ready to seek her pubic mound with its neatly tucked-in slit.

"No thanks."

"How come, baby?" He regarded her with surprise. "Rather have me in the saddle?"

She shook her head. "I'd rather have something else to eat now. Like steak and eggs with a good cup of coffee."

"You're kidding!"

"I kid thee not."

Getting off the bed, Clark shrugged. "Steak and eggs and coffee-coming up. Just as soon as dear old Isabella can produce them. But I sure don't understand this routine."

"You will-eventually."

Her smile was steady and mildly unnerving. Somehow, it made him feel a little less in control of the whole situation. He didn't like the feeling at all. Only the fact that she represented so much income to him prevented him from showing his real reaction to her strange poise.

In the days that followed he quickly learned that she only desired one thing: to go down on him, sometimes several times a day. She steadfastly declined to have him do anything else.

After a dozen unsuccessful attempts to lay her, he finally became curious enough to just ask straight-out why she deftly-sometimes even rudely-avoided letting him have any form of sexual intercourse with her other than the fellatio she performed upon him with intense enjoyment.

"Okay," she said, smiling more to herself than at him, as they sunned themselves on the flat, white beach between the sea and the house, "I'll tell you why I'm not interested in having you attempt to excite me by putting your mouth on my breasts or my box, and why I'm even less intrigued by the thought of having you hump the hell out of me. I don't dig that kind of sex. I never did, really. Oh, sure, I put up with it for a long, long time-pretending I didn't know there was something-something different about myself. The notion that I might be perverted really was scary ... then. So I buried it. For years, I just pushed it down, trying to hide it from the whole damned world but mostly myself."

There was a long moment of silence during which she stared at the sea with a bitter solemnity, gently biting at her lower lip.

"Go on," urged Clark softly. "I dig-so far."

"Well, the time finally came-to cover a lot of ground without going into a lot of meaningless details about years and people-when I was faced with the chance, the necessity even, of sucking a cock." A dreamy expression eased over her face. "I found I loved doing it. It made me feel as though-as though, well, I were in control. Perhaps that won't make sense to you, but it's true."

"I dig it."

"Best of all, I had an orgasm to end all orgasms while I was sucking that cock! That's when I learned what was most enjoyable for me!"

"I've heard about dolls like that."

"Well, you've heard true, Perry. There are some of us on this wicked old planet who just don't swing like the rest of the kids. Our pleasure is derived differently. We're not homosexual, exactly, but we're not heterosexually inclined either. We're just in a special category of our own." She raised up on an arm, looking into his face. "I'll bet I've probably given more blow-jobs to men than you've laid girls."

"Wouldn't doubt it."

"And enjoyed myself more."

"Well ... I don't know about that!"

"So now you should understand why I just want you to be the sweet, comforting companion you're being-and let me do what I like, when I like! Okay?"

He nodded. "Hell, yes, Sheila. No prob. I dig being blown. And you do it with more skill and class than any broad who's ever gobbled clyde."

"Do I get a medal?" She grinned at him.

"Do you think you need one, baby?"

She shook her head, negatively, grinning back.

Wonder if I'd be safe in telling her that I'd like to educate that little village virgin? he wondered, studying her expression. Shit, she might not mind me fooling around with another doll since she knows her own hang-up and doesn't want to screw. Wonder if she'd understand I'm getting a trifle bored with just being gobbled? Naw, I better keep my goddamned mouth shut. She's four-bills a day for just keeping her company and she's not gung-ho for any outdoor action so I better just play it cool while it lasts.

"Penny for your thoughts!" she whispered.

"Aw, they're not worth a tenth of a penny. I was just mulling over some of what you told me, trying to understand all of it."

"Going to let it worry you?"

"Hell, no, baby."

"Good!" Her hand crept up his leg, finding his organ under the trunks, squeezing it coaxingly. "Why don't we just go back to that nice, cool house?"

"Let's go," he agreed.

Inside the dim coolness of his air-conditioned bedroom, Clark assumed the position she seemed to like best-simply sitting on the bed with his back against the headboard while Sheila snuggled up between his legs, her face burrowing into his crotch as she nuzzled and kissed his testicles, nibbling at the rigid pole of pulsing flesh that stood up erectly from his naked lap, protruding from his thick patch of dark pubic hair. The nibbling stopped and her mouth closed warmly over the bulbous tip of his penis, his excitement climbing as her mouth slid up and down the organ, wetly fondling it. The harder she sucked, the faster his lust gathered until he could no longer control it-and as it spewed from his throbbing penis into her greedy mouth, he watched her body squirming fitfully as she climaxed, too. Head bobbing, frenziedly, writhing madly, she sucked on and on until his sensually exploding organ was numb and going limp with satisfaction.

Reluctantly, her head rose as she let the softening penis slide out of her mouth.

"God, but I enjoyed that!" she murmured hoarsely. "Think you could stand another time around?"

"Gimme a minute to rest."

Despite his sexual depletion Clark felt a stirring of excitement as a blurry picture of little, innocent Josefa Martinez swam across his mind. Wonder why in hell the little broad gets me so hot when I've got a suck-happy doll still lying between my goddamn legs, he mused, smoking a cigarette. Maybe it's because this cocksucker represents bucks where the little Mex cherry is symbolic of pure pleasure-and I haven't had her yet. Yeah, that must be it. I'm getting bored with this pud-hungry screwball. Never thought I'd see the day when I'd be getting tired of having head as good as this damned nut gives! Shit, I hope she splits for somewhere else before I get too bored and have to make her mad in order to move her on her way. He chuckled aloud, suddenly realizing that he was putting pleasure before money. It was a strangely good feeling.

"What's so funny?" she asked, watching him lazily.

"Nothing I can explain."

She caressed his penis, gently tugging at it and crooning softly as it began hardening beneath the touch of her fingers.

"This is the biggest, nicest lollypop a girl ever had all to herself," she mumbled in a low, thick voice. "And I'm going to suck it and suck it and suck it!"

Her lips opened around the tip of his penis and her mouth descended over it moistly. Clark relaxed, knowing he could hold out longer this time-giving her a more lengthy go at the prick-since she had already taken the edge off his desire.

He forced his thoughts away from Josefa.

Fifteen days from her arrival Sheila Youmans left after a long-distance phone call summoned her away upon business or pleasure that she preferred to keep to herself. She paid Clark in cash, assuring him that she had truly enjoyed her stay-and hoped to return again in the future.

He stood on the small dock, watching her boat cruise toward the open sea and feeling really free for the first time since she had shown up. For fifteen straight days she had been sucking his tool at least twice everyday some days more often than that. Mentally, he added up the financial aspect of her stay. Fifteen days at four-hundred a day was six-grand. Less Murphy's cut of a hundred per day, it came to a fat forty-five-hundred. Which would bring his bank balance well up over the twelve thousand mark. Strolling back across the hot sand to the house, he thought about it. Sweet Satan in a burning whorehouse, this is the best thing I've ever had going! Twelve-thou in the goddamn bank and all this gorgeous geography, too! No more taking shit from market managers. No more screwing around, conning ugly, horny housewives out of peanuts and forcing myself to endure the sickening bitches so I can make a few bucks. I'll give myself a short wild vacation before I take-on the next client Murphy wants to send me. Really have myself the kind of time I want. Yeah, that's a good plan.

Sprawling into a deck-chair, he waited for Juan to respond to the buzzer-signal. When Juan appeared, carrying a cold drink on a tray, Clark squinted up at the man with a sly smirk.

"Thanks, Juan," he said pleasantly. Extending a ten-dollar bill to the startled Juan who took it with a bewildered-but pleased-expression, Clark sipped gratefully at the icy drink. "That's for you and your wife. A little bonus for being so great around here while I had a guest. Hell, I hardly knew you guys were in the house and Isabella got meals on the table like magic."

"Por nada, it was nothing, senor!" Juan shrugged casually. "We enjoy serving you."

"Say, listen, Juan, I've been meaning to ask you about that little Josefa. Did you ever manage to have that talk with her father?"

"Si, senor. Yes, we talked."

"What's the verdict?"

"Verdict, senor? I don't understand."

"Well, what did her old man say?"

Juan's eyes gleamed slyly. "Oh, he is very interested, senor Clark! He understands-being a worldly man himself-your natural desire for his youngest daughter."

"You made it plain no marriage is included?"

Juan nodded briskly. "He realizes that, senor. And he needs the money badly enough to ignore the formalities, the conventions."

"How much does he want?"

"A thousand American dollars, senor Clark."

Clark thought about it. She was easily worth a grand, especially since she wouldn't just be his for one night. He wasn't too sure how cool it would be to have the toothsome little wench around the place when the next sexhungry client showed-up-and he was positive Murphy would want to send another rich woman to him as soon as possible. Still, he might be able to pass her off as household help. Paying a full grand for her was something that bugged him. He knew it would be worth that much to get his hands on such a naive little cunt and have the fun of teaching her all about sex play.

"Doesn't her father know she can find a lover and give herself for nothing?" Clark stared hard at Juan who shifted uneasily, looking discomfitted. "A thousand is an awful lot to pay-even if she is untouched."

"H-he will take less," Juan admitted.

"Tell him I'll pay five-hundred American dollars and no more than that. There are other virgins in the village." Clark drained the glass, holding it out to Juan who took it immediately. "Please get me another drink-and bring the extension phone out here. Five hundred for Josef a. Okay?"

"Okay, senor Clark." Juan hurried away to get the ordered drink and returned a few minutes later with a fresh drink and the phone. Plugging it into the nearby phone-jack, he departed as silently as a slightly-bent, brown shadow.

Clark dialed Emilio Murphy's number. A few seconds later Murphy's voice came to the line, sounding sluggish, weary.

"Bueno?"

"Hello, Murphy. This is Clark."

"What's on your mind, my friend? I was sleeping off a very large and debaucherous night."

"I'm mailing you a check for fifteen hundred. She left today. Damn near pooped me to death with her mouthy behavior."

Murphy chuckled briefly which told Clark the guy knew what Sheila preferred and had probably even had gone down on the little creep. "Yes, she is very fond of-ah, certain things and you must admit she has a very talented tongue in her mouth! She called me, yesterday. She seemed very pleased with her stay and plans to visit you again."

"So I'm told."

"Well, now," Murphy sounded more awake.

"There will be another lady. An equally generous and pretty lady whom I'd like to-"

"Hold it. Not for a couple of weeks, man. I want a vacation. I'll call you when I'm ready for more company."

"B-But this lady is-"

"Forget it, man. I'll call you." Clark hung up abruptly, yawning. Stretching himself, he stood up and finished the drink while he scrutinized the now flat and empty sea glittering in the hot sunlight. Absent-mindedly, he rubbed his penis under the trunks he wore, feeling it stiffen more from his thoughts than the stimulation of the pressure against it from his hand. Now he could think about dumb, shapely little Josefa. About how great it would be to have that wide-eyed, innocent little doll stripped naked and ready to learn all the wild things he would teach her to do. The penis began throbbing mildly as he visualized what she probably looked like stark naked and waiting for whatever he was going to do.

No point in rushing the bit, he decided, yawning again and suddenly feeling more tired than he had in several days. I want to be really ready for Josefa. Better just take it easy for a day or two and build up sexual energy again.

Humming tunelessly he went inside the cool house and took a long, refreshing nap as a starter toward getting in topnotch sexual condition for his seduction of the virginal Mexican girl.

In his sleep, he moaned out his lust for her.

EIGHT

He returned to the house from the beach where he had spent a couple of hours, swimming in the tepid surf and sauntering along the wide, flat sands; and he was mildly surprised to find that the young girl had been delivered to him.

She was sitting quietly in the long, cool living room, a small bundle of pathetically worn clothing beside her and an expression of uncertainty upon her heart-shaped face. Clark stood in the doorway, eying her closely. She was tiny but beautifully proportioned-a woman's body with the innocent face of a mere child. Her full breasts filled the faded blouse to bursting. Her legs were unshaven. Her bare feet kept rubbing together, the only sign of nervousness she showed.

Isabella Cantu crossed the room, her broad face a mask of disapproval but she said nothing to Clark or Josefa, disappearing silently in the direction of the kitchen. As the older woman left the room, the girl turned her head-looking up with a startled expression and obviously noticing Clark for the first time since he had been standing there.

He grinned at her. "Hi, honey!"

She dipped her head in a hesitant bow of greeting, her features still solemn, her eyes widening with undeniable fear.

He crossed the room and sat down beside her, still grinning reassuringly at her. She lowered her gaze to the tiled floor. "Hey, you haven't got anything to be afraid of, baby!" he told her cheerfully. "I'm not going to hurt you. I want to be your friend."

She was trembling visibly.

Christ, she must have figured I was going to rape her the minute she got inside the house, he thought, and she's so damned scared, she can hardly see straight! Wonder what the hell her father or Juan told her? I better take it real easy. Go slow with her. From the way she's shaking, she might go right into hysterics on the spot if I get chummy.

"Listen, Josefa," he said, keeping his voice as gentle as he could make it sound. "You're my guest. Do you understand? My guest. You're welcome here."

She nodded silently, her eyes still fixed upon the floor. Her trembling seemed to lessen a bit.

Clark stood up. "I'll show you your room if you'll follow me. You might want to take a shower or have a little nap or something. Okay?"

She nodded again.

He led her out of the room and down the hallway to one of the guestrooms where she paused for a second before entering it. "Just make yourself at home and I'll see you later. If you want anything to eat-or you need anything at all, just tell Isabella."

She stood like a shapely statue with her back to him, her head slightly bent.

He closed the door and went to find Juan. The older man was working behind the house, kneeling as he weeded around some shrubbery. His face was blank as he looked up, nodding respectfully.

"Buenas dias, senor Clark," Juan murmured.

"Listen, Juan," Clark squatted on his heels beside the gnome-like man. "What the hell was that little broad told, anyway? She's scared to death."

"Si, she is frightened."

"Well, what the shit did you or her father tell her about coming over here? She acts like I'm some kind of a monster!"

Juan shrugged elaborately. "She is young. She has never had a lover. She knows only that her body now belongs to you."

"You make it sound ordinary enough."

"It is not uncommon in these parts, senor."

"Okay, so I guess she's just a little cherrier than I figured." Clark stood up, tucking his shirt into his pants. "She probably just needs some time to get used to the whole idea. Okay, so I'm not in any big hurry. It just makes her that much more exciting-knowing I'll have to take my time with her. I just wanted to be sure nobody had put any screwy notions into her head, man."

"Virgins and fear, senor." Juan shrugged again, a trace of a smile upon his weathered face. "You cannot have one without the other-when the man is a stranger to the girl."

"I dig. Yeah, she's only seen me a couple of times over in the village."

"She is yours now."

"You better believe it." Leaving abruptly, Clark went back into the house where he began his campaign to make friends with Josefa, not quite understanding why it seemed so important to him to ease her fear when he knew he could just force her to submit to him and wondering why he didn't want her to be so frightened at the prospect of surrendering her virginity to him-something that was going to happen, one way or the other. Eventually, he pushed the question out of his mind entirely and simply concentrated upon trying to win her over, bring her out of the shyness and fear.

In the three days and nights that followed, Clark used every bit of his natural charm to mollify the girl's uncertainty. Days, he took her swimming-after finding a bikini, during their brief trip to La Paz to buy her some new clothes, that barely held her delectable shape and he introduced her to skin diving in the shallow, clear water of the nearby cove. At first, she was silent and obedient, doing everything she was told with the same docile manner but looking downcast. Slowly she began taking an interest in the water, the brilliantly colored fish she was seeing for the first time in their natural environment, and before very long she was laughing at his jokes, opening up a bit and he discovered that, while not the brightest kid on earth, she had a definite flare for humor and was beginning to act more like a girl her age.

He had a difficult time convincing her that she should shave her legs and armpits, using the small, electric razor he bought her. She was bewildered, then embarrassed but she did as she was asked-and the smoothness of her brown legs, which were about the tint of coffee with a lot of cream in it, enhanced her appeal to him. Nights, he taught her to play checkers and they went for long, quiet walks at the water's edge, neither of them saying very much. He could sense that she was much more at ease around him now. And he knew he couldn't restrain the lust that he felt for her much longer. Twice he had almost gone to the guest room where she slept, determined to have her no matter how much she might cry or scream but the knowledge that she was slowly coming around and might be even more fun to teach sex to if she weren't as resistent enabled him to control his desire for her.

Until early in the morning of the fourth day.

She was curled up so tightly under the covers, she had assumed almost a prenatal position.

Quietly, Clark closed the guest room door behind him and went to the bed where he stood looking down at her in the faint light of dawn glowing into the room. Her long, black hair tumbled glossily over the pillows. Her eyelashes lay thick upon the smooth brownness of her cheek.

He eased himself out of his pants and climbed into the bed, feeling the warmth of her naked back as he snuggled up to her. His hand went lightly over her bare flesh, the fingers exploring, estimating. Her breasts were round and heavy, the nipples well defined and tautening to his touch. She stirred restlessly, mumbling something incoherently. His hand paused while she resumed the regular breathing of deep sleep. Then he continued the exploration by feel, caressing the smoothness of her belly and thighs, fingering the thick pubic hair over the fatty mound of her organ-and suddenly she was awakening, her body tensing as she realized she was no longer alone in the bed.

He buried his face into her throat, nuzzling it and finding that she smelled of soap and water. Her reaction was to struggle, during which she turned over toward him, her hands pushing at him, trying to ward him off. Sleepy protests with an undercurrent of terror poured from her mouth as she twisted and turned in her efforts to keep him from touching her intimately.

He shifted, getting between the moving thighs and holding her down. She stared up-fully awake now-at him with an expression of fright. It made her all the more desirable and he realized that the waiting had been nothing more than self-torture he had inflicted upon himself.

"I-I have never lain with a man!" she whimpered. "Pi-Please don't make me do this thing!"

His reply was to lower his head over one of the high, pointed breasts, his mouth closing greedily about the pale pink nipple as he nursed with lustful enjoyment, simultaneously wedging himself even more securely between her legs.

"Don't ... Don't ... do ... that!" She spoke between clenched teeth as he transferred his mouth from one breast to the other, enjoying the excitement of his erected penis rubbing into her vulva's lips as she writhed beneath him. "I ... don't care ... what ... you paid! I ... will ... not-"

Swiftly, he reached down, grasping his stiffened organ and guiding it expertly until he felt its tip pressing against the vaginal opening. Quickly, he thrust his hips forward-feeling the end of the penis penetrate into her organ, feeling the end of the penis penetrate into her organ, feeling her body go even more tense as she gasped. Then he slid both arms around her shoulders, holding her firmly, and with another savage thrust of his hips-which produced a shrill cry of pain that nearly deafened him-felt his throbbing shaft plunge through the hymen and go deeply into her.

Impaled upon his organ, she quivered and squirmed as her cries became a steady background of sound against his sensual grunts of pleasure, driving himself in and out of her with steady, brutal force-delighting in the tightness of her organ and feeling his first orgasm rising, knowing that he would be unable to hold it off.

When he came, he pounded himself madly against her, groaning gutturally and harshly as his senses were engulfed by the orgasm which seemed to never end until, at last, spent and panting, he slumped heavily upon Josefa who was sobbing softly, her pain and fear replaced by despair.

"Sorry about that, baby," he told her after a few moments. "It kinda got away from me. You felt so good, so tight-and I haven't had any ass in some days. Sorry I had to hurt you but that's part of losing your cherry."

"Now I am no longer pure," she whispered dully, her face averted as she stared stonily at the wall. "Now I am a bad woman."

"You're not bad at all, baby!" Pulling her to him, he felt the lust once again heating his loins, aching within his penis and balls. "Hell, you're just fine! And with a little practice, you'll be one of the best!"

Rolling her upon her stomach, he muttered: "On your hands and knees, baby! I'll show you a different way to do it! It's one of my favorites-it's called doggy-style!"

Silently, obediently, she assumed the position he demanded. Kneeling behind her broad span of buttocks, he inserted the pulsating penis once again, the rear entry into her vagina making her wince with pain but she clenched the sheet with fists that tightened until her knuckles whitened as the long, hard penis slid into her organ again-and she only moaned this time instead of shrieking.

He undulated his body slowly, enjoyably making the act last and loving every sensation of it as he moved his rigid penis in and out of the snug wetness-feeling her quiver with each penetration and withdrawal. Then the climax was once more gathering until it became an explosive need that shot from his organ in spasms of pleasure that doubled him up, pumping himself frantically against her warm, fleshy behind.

When it was over, she seemed strangely quiet and calm. She refused to look at him but stared dully into space with a face empty of all expression. He decided she was just depressed, and he figured she would get over it in due time.

Only when he was back in his own room did he suddenly realize that he hadn't kissed her on the mouth-not once.

I'm getting to be a crude bastard, he decid ed. Better watch it. A habit like that can cost me bucks with the older broads who dig a lotta preliminary smooching before we get down to the horny action. Yeah, I better stay in practice with the lover boy bit. But it's sure cool to be able to just get right to the sucking and fucking without fooling around, leading up to it.

He thought about Josefa for a long, long time. It was fine, knowing that anything as young and tasty as she was, was his anytime he wanted her-anyway he wanted to have her-and he looked forward to teaching her to suck. He assumed that sooner or later he would get tired of her. And he knew there were plenty more-just as young and tender

-where she came from. His only regret was that they were all brunettes. It would be nice, he reasoned, grinning up at the ceiling with his hands behind his head, to have some redheaded or blonde young-stuff now and then. Well, shit

-maybe I can make enough from humping the rich oldies to finance lotsa youngies! Let's face it, man: you really dig the young stuff. The younger the better. And this part of the country is jammy-packed with poverty-stricken virgins whose folks'll sell their asses. Hell, I'd like to have a rotating string of young stuff a regular harem of tender twats!

An hour of thinking about orgies involving more than one dumb, young cherry at a time reignited his lust and he went back to where Josefa lay, drifting into an exhausted sleep, awakening her and taking her firm, smooth body a third time she submitted groggily, dutifully.

It was even better than before.

The next client to be sent by Murphy was an ugly woman with a beautiful body who arrived in a long, black limousine driven by a sullen-faced, female chauffeur. The wealthy client-Enid Overman-was a pocked-face, busty number of about fifty whose foul mouth and brash manner told Clark she probably had a difficult time finding acceptance among the idle and sensual rich. The chauffeur-Joan Gill-was a tall, skinny blonde whose ill-concealed masculine manner made Clark pretty sure she was a dyke employee/companion. He greeted them with warmth and hospitality, ignoring the tall dyke and giving the auburn-haired client his fullest attention.

Nor was he particularly surprised when Enid casually announced that she would share the same room with Joan. It figured.

Within twenty-four hours three things had taken place. First, Enid got loudly drunk and insisted that Clark go to bed with her-which he did, only to quickly discover that she was a clumsy lay for a broad her age with presumably at least thirty-years of sexual experience. He did his best but he sensed that just having a younger man screw the hell out of her wasn't likely to keep Enid content. Secondly, Joan left to her own devices while Clark was in bed with her employer-discovered Josefa, who now worked around the house in the capacity of maid-immediately tried to lure the girl into a room and when that failed, boldly made a lesbian's pass in the kitchen which caused instant hell to break out. Isabella threatened to quit on the spot. Josefa was once again terror-stricken. Even Juan was frozen-faced with anger and disgust. Thirdly, Clark was forced to risk losing the client by laying down a few laws to her.

"Get that dyke off the help's back, baby," he told her firmly, smiling as he said it. "Good servants don't grow on trees down here, no matter what anybody stateside thinks. So put that dyke on a leash or I'll have to ask you both to haul-ass out of here."

Enid eyed him curiously over the rim of the glass she held as she sat, sprawling nakedly on the bed, scratching her flat, firm belly. "Just like that, huh? Who the fuck do you think you are-some kind of moral critic? I'm paying four-bills a goddamn day to stay here."

"Make the dyke leave Josefa alone or take your money and split." Clark grinned even more broadly. "This is a private residence, not a commercial hotel. You're a guest. You're paying for the privilege of being a guest, dummy. That doesn't include letting your pet pussy licker harass the help."

"Jesus, you talk real plain!" A reluctant smirk of admiration rearranged the deeply pocked areas in her badly marked and pitted features. "Okay, get Joan in here and I'll give her the word."

Moments later, a furious Joan stalked out of the room, hate brimming in her pale eyes as she shot Clark an enraged glance just before she went through the doorway.

"Better?" asked Enid, holding out her glass for a refill. "Happy now, mine host?"

"Happy now."

"Okay, lemme make a deal with you."

"So deal."

"Joan wants that little Mex cunt, see? And I'd like to watch them make it. I suppose that'll shock the shit outta you but I happen to enjoy watching all kinds of people doing it to and with all kinds of other people."

"I dunno. Josefa's practically a virgin. She might come unglued if I made her submit to an experience like having that dyke gnaw on her." He poured himself another drink. "But, of course, I suppose I could force myself to arrange it if the price was interesting enough."

"Man, you sure don't shock for shit, do you?"

He shook his head, sipping at the drink. "How much?" He shrugged. "A bill?"

"Don't be absurd."

"Two bills?"

"Now you're still in the ridiculous area. Hell, I thought you wanted to watch that dyke seduce the poor little thing."

"I do. Three bills, you bastard?"

"Then for Chrissakes either offer a decent fee or forget it!" he snapped. By now Clark didn't care whether she stayed or not. And a few minutes more of getting hacked with her was going to have him ready to throw her and the dyke out. "I paid five bills just to bust her cherry."

"A grand-no more."

"A grand does it."

"Okay, get her in here." Enid settled back on the pillows, her eyes wildly gleaming with anticipation. "I wanna see her stripped before Joan comes in for the show."

"Two things," Clark said flatly. "You'll have to let me get her bombed before you can turn that goddamned dyke loose on her. And I want to feel the grand in my hand."

"Get started pouring booze into her," muttered Enid, reaching for her purse on the bedside table. "I've got the cash, you fucker."

He went to get Josefa.

For a full hour he sat patiently with the girl, insisting that she drink the tall glasses of fruit juice fortified with two-fingers of tequila. She was completely unused to alcohol and it only required three glasses before she was glassy-eyed, giggling and safely smashed. Gently, he removed her clothing and she submitted, assuming that he was merely going to make love to her again as he had so many times since she had moved into his house. He fed her a fourth drink just to be sure she would be thoroughly confused before he led her back into the room where Enid still sprawled nudely on the bed, Joan perched nakedly on the edge of the bed with a hungry look on her thin, predatory face.

Josefa regarded them owlishly, still giggling.

"God, lookit the body on her!" moaned Joan.

"She's built beautifully," decided Enid, staring intensely at the flawlessly smooth and sensually shaped Mexican girl. "All right, Joany, she's all yours!"

"Just don't hurt her," Clark cautioned. "I want her to just have a poor memory of this-and no teethmarks or bruises."

Enid held out ten one-hundreds to him. "Sit down, pour yourself another belt, shut up and watch the fun times, bastard! Joany's as gentle as can be. Why, by the time she's finished loving up that little chili-eater, she'll probably never let another guy ever get in the same bed with her!"

Joan was gently pulling a bewildered but giggling Josefa to the thickly carpeted floor strewn with pillows for padding. Clark pocketed the cash, thinking: Well, screw it. There's my five bills for Josefa's cherry back-and that much again. This experience won't warp her for life. Even if she manages to remember it, and I got doubts about that, she hasn't been hurt. But I better send her home tomorrow.

He settled back into a chair, building himself another drink from the bottles and ice on the table. Now Josefa was protesting mildly as she dimly perceived that a girl was kissing her, fondling her-and her initial gasp of pleasurable shock as Joan's greedy lips opened over Josefa's vulva and the skilled tongue of the dyke went to work on the young girl was the only sound other than a steady moaning that she made during the entire performance.

Clark watched the two girls-Joan's skinny body pale against Josefa's brown flesh entangling on the floor as Joan sucked and nuzzled upon the girl's organ while Josefa threshed about, her face contorted in ecstasy, too drunk to fully realize that it was another girl whose mouth was creating the pleasure that Clark had taught her.

He glanced at Enid. She watched the action with narrowed, green eyes, her scarred face tight with enjoyment. And as she watched, she masturbated herself almost unknowingly.

Clark took a healthy swig of the drink he held, and lighting a cigarette, continued watching the dyke maul and nurse, fondle and writhe while Josefa twitched and shuddered in mounting spasms of sexual reaction to what was being done to her.

Shit, this is a wild switch, he thought, glancing amusedly around the room. Three naked broads-and I've still got my pants on! That's something brand new in the way of a scene!

Without warning, Enid uttered a low cry of anguish and clambered down from the bed, drunkenly joining the tangle of arms and legs on the floor. Clark bent forward, watching this addition with fascination. Enid was now shoving her ugly face between Josefa's plump breasts, her hand reaching for the dyke's crotch.

Clark laughed aloud.

Murphy stared suspiciously at Clark across the table in the fierce sunlight. "Are you sure you didn't charge her extra for the Mexican girl?" he demanded.

"Hell, no. I told you I didn't. But I had to pay off to the girl to make sure she wouldn't spill her guts to her family. And I even had to pay off the Cantu's. Shit, man, they were ready to leave when they finally caught-on to what that freaky old bitch and her dyke-chauffeur wanted." Clark lay back in the deckchair, his face raised to the heat of the tropical sun, eyes closed tightly against its relentless rays. "Just like I told you, she was here five days. That makes your cut exactly what's in front of you: seven-and-a-half yards, baby."

Murphy scooped up the bills, counting them rapidly before stowing them away in his billfold. He sighed deeply. "I still think I'm taking a genuine stiffing. I have all the work of lining these clients up, getting them interested in coming here. I should be making more out of this whole thing."

"Start that song again and I'll take a long, restful vacation," Clark said barely moving his lips. "If you think I'm bluffing-just keep bitching."

"Ready for another one?"

Clark hesitated, wondering if he wanted another client so soon. Enid had only been gone a few days and he had planned to find another innocent broad in the village to play with until the next client arrived. He wondered if Murphy wasn't pushing just a little too hard.

"Aw, I dunno," Clark murmured sleepily. "Who's the broad and what's she like? Not another weirdo like that last one I hope."

"No, Mrs. Johnson is real class."

"Missus who?"

Mrs. Anna Johnson. Married. About forty. A good looking, well built woman. Real quiet and refined. She took one look at your photo and was straining to get up here. Even without much of a pitch about the seclusion, the romantic setting and the rest of the horseshit I usually give them."

"Yeah, I been meaning to ask you about that crap of showing these broads my photo. Is that really necessary, Murphy?" Clark turned his face toward the other man. "I mean, it makes me just a little nervous. You don't hand out copies of that photo to these sex-mad broads, do you?"

"Hell, no! But it helps when they get a look at the handsome devil whom their host will be at this romantic guesthouse. Don't think for a minute it doesn't help a lot."

"Okay, if you say so. But be careful how you flash that photo around."

"I'm always careful."

"Well, tell you what, man. Lemme have another week to get the taste of that last experience out of my mind and to give my cock a rest-and you can send this Johnson broad up. Be sure you phone ahead of her arrival though."

"You can depend upon it."

"Groovy."

After Murphy had left to return to La Paz, Clark shook with silent laughter. He had made seven-thousand bucks during the five-days in which Enid and her dyke had stayed. They'd kept poor little Josefa drugged and drunken so Enid could go the whole route with everybody-even Clark-having a whirl at the orgy action. It had been a very hungover and bewildered Josefa who had been sent back to the village with a hundred American dollars in her hand.

Man, how that funky weirdo hated shelling out a grand for each sex-session, he remembered. God, I almost thought she and that damned dyke might plan to knock me off in order to have Josefa anytime they wanted her. Cluing the Cantus was smart business-even if it did mean another two-hundred American to quiet them down and all. Shit, it takes money to make money! Well, I'm six-thousand, nine-hundred and fifty buck richer for enduring five-days of that ugly bitch. It was worth it. I just hope to Christ she never complains to Murphy about it or he'll probably cut off the incoming trade!

He seriously doubted there was much chance of that happening since all the women seemed anxious to avoid recontacting the greasy little character, and were usually headed out of Mexico, anyway, after their stay at his place.

However, if it ever did come to a showdown, he was still in a pretty good position since all transactions were in cold cash, making it simply a case of his word against that of the client's should Murphy ever wise up or be clued by some pissed visitor.

Clark yawned, feeling hunger roiling in his belly. Sleepily, he got up out of the deckchair and went below into the cool dimness of the house, calling to Isabella to start lunch.

As he showered, he thought about those days when he was hustling housewives for tail and money. The sums that he had gotten were like small change to what he was seeing pour in now. And if the broads weren't any younger or better built-at least he had a thing going for him in the village.

Part of the thing was a sly-eyed kid about ten years of age named Juanito Montoya. It had been pure luck running across the kid. Clark smiled happily as he thought about what lay ahead of him that night-thanks to a few bucks and the kid's know-how locally.

Juanito was lining up another virgin. He claimed to be able to find them by the dozen and Clark tended to believe the enterprising little bastard. After all, it seemed that the younger the girl--the easier it was for the kid to arrange things.

Never having laid an eleven-year-old doll, Clark thought excitedly, tonight oughta be something else! It's fantastic the way these little Mex broads are so well-developed for their age. Young and tender, and built like real women. What a cool combination that is! Wonder if this doll, tonight, will be as good as that last one the kid lined-up?

Two nights earlier Clark had gone to the village where he met the kid and had been taken to an adobe hut. There, waiting for him, had been a thirteen-year-old beauty named Socorra. The kid had stood guard outside the hut while Clark proceeded to make love to the girl. She, too, like Josefa, had been a genuine virgin-but she hadn't been frightened and had seemed to enjoy the sexual acts he insisted they perform, once her cherry had been broken and the initial pain was over. They spent the entire night, Clark showing her various positions and things to do to each other, and when he left in the morning he had put ten American dollars into the kid's hand as he climbed into his MG for the short drive back to the beach house.

Now the kid had an even younger, more tender little piece of ass lined-up.

Clark could hardly wait to get to her.

NINE

Her name was Serafina and she was eleven. A very unusually appealing and budding eleven with small, sharply-pointed breasts just beginning to protrude and legs that had lost their little-girl's shape but weren't entirely the limbs of a fully matured woman yet, either. Her narrow face with its huge, brown eyes and broad, heavily-lipped mouth were framed in the long, thick hair cascading darkly to well below her shoulder blades. She wore a thin blouse of cheap cotton and a neatly patched, faded skirt that had been a hand-me-down from an older sister. She was freshly bathed and even her bare feet were clean. Serafina was a little doll.

Sitting on Clark's lap, giggling shyly as he talked to her haltingly in Spanish-the only language she spoke or understood-she chewed vigorously upon the candy he'd given her.

An hour earlier he had picked her up in the village where the kid and the girl had been waiting for him. After paying Juanito the agreed-upon ten-dollars, he had helped Serafina into the MG and taken her back to the beach house. The Cantus were gone, having been given a week's vacation with pay, visiting with relatives in La Paz. Now Clark was alone with the young girl in the house.

Slipping his hand under her skirt, he caressed the satiny flesh of her leg, his fingers moving upward until he was fondling her firm little thighs. She merely shifted restlessly, giggling and eying him with curiosity.

"You are very nice," he said in Spanish. "You feel very nice."

"I would like more candy," she replied, swallowing the well-chewed mouthful. "I like candy. I could eat all the candy in the world!"

"You shall have all the candy you can eat, but I would like to play with you."

"Play with me?" The eyes widened innocently.

"I would like to teach you things-things that are fun and feel good. After we have done them, you can have much candy."

"Good!" She clapped her small hands together in a sudden gesture of delight, smiling happily. "And must I leave soon?"

"No, you can stay in this house-for awhile. Later, we can play on the beach. Would you like that, Serafina?"

She nodded enthusiastically.

Lifting her and getting to his feet, he carried her to the bedroom. Gently putting her down upon the neatly made bed, he knelt be side her. She only giggled when his hand went beneath the full skirt again-this time caressing her thighs and going higher until his fingers touched the light fuzz of her developing pubic mound. Serafina gasped as he fondled the fatty mound, finding the slit and toying with its lips. She closed her eyes, still giggling.

Clark carefully lifted the skirt, greedily peering at the physical perfection of her nakedness. He wasn't surprised that she wore no underclothing. Few, if any, of the village girls did. Slowly, firmly, he pushed her thighs apart and slipping his hands under the chubby, warm buttocks-bent forward, his mouth reaching the plump, firm organ, his tongue licking at it with hungry relish as he began sucking upon her with increasing lust. She tasted and smelled very clean. And she submitted, being very still as he noisily mouthed her organ.

"Do you like that?" he asked, raising his head. "Doesn't that feel very good?"

"Yes, very good," she said in a tiny voice.

"Now I will teach you something else that's even more fun." Sitting on the bed edge, he quickly removed his clothing. She watched him with intense interest, giggling whenever he smiled at her. Moving around so he faced her genitals and she faced his erected organ, he told her softly: "Now you put your mouth upon me while I do it to you again."

She stared at the pulsing, rigid penis with uncertainty in her face.

"Go ahead," he urged. "Just put your mouth over the end of it."

Slowly, grasping the shaft of flesh with a small hand, she lowered her head until her lips opened over the head of his penis, and she closed her lips around it hesitantly.

"Oh, that feels very good!" breathed Clark. He searched for more Spanish words to tell her how he wanted her to suck upon his organ and a few moments later she was doing it quite expertly. He buried his face between her thighs, slobbering and sucking at the little pussy so firm and chubby in his mouth.

Abruptly, her body began squirming and he knew she was getting excited-maybe even excited enough to have an orgasm. Fighting to keep his control so that his own climax wouldn't come just yet, he jabbed his tongue against the small clitoris-knowing this would bring her to an orgasm if she were old enough to experience one, cherry or no cherry.

Then, helpless against the cresting lust that was gathering upward in his penis-he felt himself going into the pleasurable spasms of ejaculation as the organ spewed its load into Serafina's busy mouth. She lifted her head, coughing with the unexpected mouthful of semen-some of which had been violently shot into her throat, gagging her and making her retch. At the same time, her orgasm arrived and she groaned as she coughed, her body writhing in the grip of the sexual climax.

After a few moments-during which both of them lay quietly recovering-she wiped her mouth with the back of a perfectly formed arm.

"I-I don't like doing that," she declared.

"Okay, baby, we'll just have to find something else to do." Clark spoke dreamily, the blissful torpidity of temporary satisfaction putting him almost asleep. "Let's just have a short nap. Then we get something good to eat and go for a swim."

"Can I have candy?"

Clark chuckled good naturedly. "Sure. You can have candy. Why not? You gave me some of the sweetest little candy I've ever had."

"I did?" She sounded puzzled.

"You sure did, baby!"

That night, both of them safely naked since there was nobody else around, they swam in the tepid water of the sea under the lewdly winking stars and when they had tired of frolicking in the surf, they took a long walk down the beach. By the time they returned to the house, Serafina was a very tired girl. Even Clark felt the results of the hours they had spent outdoors but he also felt a craving now to possess her innocence, to invade that fine, flawless body into which no man had previously gone. So he fried two delicious steaks, made fresh coffee and they finished the meal with large bowls of strawberry ice cream. By now, Serafina could hardly keep her eyes open. Clark's fatigue was vanishing, replaced by the growing desire he felt every time he looked at her. They were both still nude, not having bothered to put on any clothes since entering the house.

When she lay down on the couch, flat on her back with her smoothly curved legs sprawled just far enough apart to reveal her chubby private parts, lightly covered with the silky fuzz of pubic hair, Clark could no longer wait.

Going to where she lay, already half-asleep with an arm thrown over her face, he spread her thighs with his hands, easing himself between them and lying down atop her. She stirred uneasily, mumbling a protest but he ignored it-grasping his hardening penis and rubbing it against her organ, letting the precoital lubricating fluid he was emitting moisten the lips of her vulva and the vaginal opening. When they had been smeared until they were slippery, he guided the tip of his organ to the opening and began pushing it into her straining as he did so because she was so small and the entry required more effort than he thought it would. Instantly, she was awake and struggling to get away from the hard shaft probing into her body. He held her tightly, pinning her down and restricting her frantic movements while he thrust more savagely to penetrate her organ.

"Th-That hurts!" she cried shrilly. "Stop it! Stop doing that! It hurts!"

"It won't hurt very long," he grunted, still pressing the penis deeper into her. "Hold still and it'll stop hurting soon!"

She screamed loudly as the penis ruptured her hymen, plunging past its torn tissue and stabbing half its throbbing length into her body. Again and again she screamed in pain and fear. The sound was deafening but Clark remembered that no one would hear her screams so he began drawing back and driving forward with steady regularity, ignoring her cries and holding her helplessly still while her legs and feet flailed at the air above him.

Now her screams subsided to a constant groaning but her struggles ceased. She just lay quivering as the penis was sent in and out of her organ, her eyes tightly closed and her face contorted with the discomfort she still suffered.

Clark shifted her position-lifting her round little buttocks with his hands-until he found a better angle from which to continue thrusting his organ into her yielding flesh. Within a few seconds he reached his orgasm, frenziedly driving himself more deeply, more brutally into her moist warmness as the explosive spasms came-bringing relief and satisfaction to him. When he was spent, he pulled himself out and free of her. To his surprise there was very little blood. Hardly any at all. She was sobbing brokenly now and groaning as she cried, her head turned away from him.

"It's only bad the first time, baby," he told her, flopping upon his back and rubbing her heaving little breasts with a hand intended to comfort her. "It'll never hurt like that again-honest."

She rolled over, pulling away from him and pushing his hand from her hard, budding breasts. Gradually her sobs and groans quieted. By the time he had gotten his breath back, she was lying perfectly silent. He leaned over her, studying her face. Eyes still closed, her expression was one of distress and tears still rolled from her lowered eyelids.

Hell, he decided, getting off the bed and reaching for some pants. I better give her time to pull herself together. Another cup of coffee would taste damned good about now. Shit, but that was a great fuck! I guess I'm getting hung-up on cherry or something but it sure beats anything else I've ever screwed!

Going into the kitchen, he heated the coffee and poured a cup of it for himself. While he drank it, perched on one of the stools at the counter, he gave some thought to his general situation.

He knew he must get Serafina out of the house before Juan and Isabella Cantu returned from their visit to La Paz or risk losing a pair of excellent servants because he knew they would disapprove of his having young girls especially as young as Serafina-in the house for sexual purposes even though they were perfectly willing to accept all the other aspects of his existence.

Also, he knew he must resume the business of playing lover and host to the lonely, bored and sensual women so necessary to his growing bank account. As much as he dug sex, he still valued the money a great deal more. It was security. It enable him to have many things he would otherwise not enjoy. There had been too many years of painful poverty and the humiliations accompanying it for him to ignore the value of his female guests.

Finishing his coffee, he decided he wanted another go at Serafina before sleeping. Returning to the bedroom, he dropped his pants and got into the bed with her, finding her sleeping soundly despite the experience she had endured of having her virginity removed so painfully.

He bent over her breasts, lowering his mouth and sucking gently on the pointed nipples tipping the budding mounds of flesh. She offered no resistance even when he pried her legs apart and once again positioned himself between them, her only sound a muted whimper of dismay. When his organ was hard and pulsing with urgent need for release, he inserted it into her vagina-enjoying the tightness of her organ and moving his hips expertly back and forth while she squirmed beneath him, her eyes half-open and staring up with sullen annoyance. He continued screwing her for a long, long time-successfully holding back his own orgasm and delighting in the pleasure of the act-and, finally, she began arching her back and writhing madly as her own excitement brought her to a climax. When she was fin ished, he allowed himself to come-pumping wildly as his penis expanded and discharged its load into her organ, his grunting of animal satisfaction the only sound in the room.

In a short while, lying closely to her with their legs still entangled, he fell asleep with his face buried into the soft, firm flesh of her neck and the last thing he remembered was the way she was still trembling and sighing.

For the next two-days he frequently laid the girl whenever he wanted her and she submitted to the sexual acts-no longer suffering discomfort or even any degree of fear-with a stoic quality that somehow robbed their intimacies of excitement for him. After having tried a number of positions with her and finding his enjoyment decreasing with each performance, he gave her a few dollars and drove her back to the village, leaving her on the same comer where she had been waiting for him with the kid who had found her and arranged everything.

Maybe I need another rest from all this humping, he thought, driving back along the narrow, badly paved road that led to the beach. Hell, I'm not made of steel, that's for sure. And I want to be ready for this Johnson broad when she arrives. I'd better try taking things easy and start building up some strength. After all, screwing for money isn't the worst way in the world to make a buck-and I'd only be kidding myself if I didn't realize that my whole thing is nothing more than he-whoring! The thought amused him and he laughed into the wind as he approached the coast. The only difference between this action and the setups I used to work is the size of the take and the fact that I don't have to work my ass off, trundling canned goods around while some shithead of a store manager leans on me. What a difference! Shit, I've got it knocked!

Anna Johnson lounged in the deckchair, her body gleaming with the sweat that glistened on her arms, legs and face, staining the conventional, brightly-colored sunsuit she wore. Every now and then she lifted a slender hand holding the towel spread across her lap and dabbed at the rivulets of perspiration running from her upswept, stylishly grey and black hair down her high forehead. Clark glanced at her with interest from time to time. She's a strange broad, he thought for the hundredth time since she had arrived. This sunlight is killing her but she's going to bask in it even if it gives her sunstroke. Yeah, a really strange and stubborn broad. He eyed her trim figure, approving the not-thin-not-fat legs, the tiny waist, the large, high breasts threatening to pop out of the sun suit's skimpy top.

"Holy Mother of God!" she exclaimed in her throaty voice. "Even the south end of Hell can't be as hot as this sundeck!"

"Rather go inside?" Clark suggested.

"No." She shook her head firmly. "I'm as brunette as you are, lover. And I want a tan as beautiful as the coating you're sporting. If it means roasting a little-then I'll roast. It'll just teach me to not spend quite as much time indoors after this." She turned her face, smiling at him, her eyes hidden behind the dark glasses she wore.

"No point in overdoing it." He glanced at the expensive watch on his wrist-a gift she had brought with her. "We've been out here almost two-hours."

"I said, I'll stay for awhile longer."

He shrugged. Shit, sit there and burn up for all I care, you stubborn cunt! he fumed to himself. It's no blisters on my hide how scorched you get!

She chuckled, still peering at him. "You don't like having your ideas rejected, do you, lover?" She had been calling him 'lover' ever since she stepped out of the late model Jaguar and into the house, but so far it was just a name that he hadn't had to prove or live up to-neither of them having made the first advance toward physical intimacy yet.

Fighting down the rage that bubbled up inside, he managed a cool smile of indifference. "Oh, I can take a turn-down without dying, baby."

Her smile vanished. "I've asked you not to call me that sickening name. Call me by my own, real name-Anna."

He pretended to study his new watch, thinking: Why, you mouthy bitch! If you weren't worth four bills a day, I'd belt your goddamned smart mouth right off your fucking face!

"Sorry about that," he mumbled.

Her hand touched his shoulder. "I hope I haven't chopped you too hard, but I just loathe that name, 'baby', and I want to be sure you understand why. I've been called 'baby' in some pretty lousy places by some even lousier people and-and I guess I just associate it with bad memories."

He nodded, still faking out interest in the watch.

"Now you're mad," she accused.

"Nope. Just trying to memorize the fact that you prefer to be called by your own name." He worked up a very convincing grin for her and he knew she was buying it from the way her mouth relaxed. Man, what a feisty cunt she is-every damn minute on an ego-trip that never quits. I hope to Christ she hasn't got me so uptight that I can't get a hard-on for her when it's time to lay her.

"Well, I'm glad you're not offended," she murmured.

Clark yawned, getting up from his chair. "Mind if I go for a swim, Anna? Think I've had enough of this baking routine for one day."

She studied his face. "No, I don't mind. You go ahead. I want to bake for awhile yet."

"Okay, see you later."

He strolled down the stairway, across the heated sand and plunged into the warmish water, swimming hard for a few strokes until he was in deep water, then flipping over and floating, completely relaxed, upon his back. The tepid water held him up, lapping softly around his body. With the sunlight beating down upon him and the comfort of the water beneath him, Clark found his emotions beginning to ease, the hard knot of anger and disgust in his belly starting to unravel. Man, talk about therapy, he thought idly. This combination does the trick every time. Now all I have to do is be careful I don't crash out here and wake-up fifty miles beyond the goddamned horizon!

His mind settled-more calmly now upon Anna. It had been an emotional touch and go, parry and lunge ever since she arrived-and he couldn't quite understand the whole scene. Usually, they were coy or sexy or doing their damnedest to be friendly but this broad seemed determined to have a war-or at least chop him to the ground every chance she got. He had been waiting for her to make some kind of sexual invitation but there hadn't been even the slightest provocation shown. Several times he had almost made a casual pass but something in her manner reached his deep instinct about women and he had restrained the urge to see if she was waiting for an advance. He was positive now that she wasn't, that she would be the one to indicate when she was ready to be laid. This was perfectly all right with Clark. It didn't hurt his ego although it fascinated him. He was ready-not having had any sexual release for several days-to go the moment she showed a definite desire for sexplay of any kind.

Languorously rolling back over on his belly, he began swimming slowly and lazily toward the beach. There was really nothing for him to do beyond holding his temper in check as long as he could; and, maybe, hope that she would either behave like the rest of the love-starved or oversexed clients, or split before he was pushed into a fury that he knew could only result in his taking a punch at her.

A few more days and that could be a very expensive sock in the kisser! he thought, grinning as he reached shallow water, stood up and waded ashore. Like maybe a two-grand sockeroo! And she looks just like the brand of broad who would not only refuse to pay her bill but complain to the local fuzz in the bargain! It was something to try and remember if she goaded him into danger of blowing his top.

He was staring up into the darkness that night, having listened to Anna chatter rather boringly all during the good dinner Isabella had served and continue blathering away about her sophisticated friends, her husband-whom she seemed to contemptuously regard as little more than a moneymaking moron-and various instances in her personal history. They had quite a few drinks during the evening and he found himself eying her, as she yakked incessantly, with increasing hunger, knowing that it was more having done without sex than her own appeal.

Abruptly, she had announced that she was bushed and going to bed, leaving for her room almost immediately. He had a couple more drinks, wished he could get into the village and find a young girl but knew he might get himself stabbed if he tried to line up anything but one of the hag-types who were known putas, recognized whores.

Disgruntled and hotter than he had felt in a long, long time he finally retired to his own room and was now sleeplessly peering into the darkness, wondering if he should masturbate just to get some relief from the throbbing need between his legs where an erection was rigidly and impatiently keeping him reminded of his overdue sexual activity.

Suddenly the door opened quietly and Anna-her lithe body wearing a thin, gauzy nightgown-slipped into the room and stood beside his bed, looking down at him with a strangely excited smile.

"You're not asleep, are you?" she said.

"No, I'm not."

She threw the sheet back that covered his nakedness, revealing his huge penis standing straight up. She sat down on the edge of the bed, staring at his organ. He lay very still, his arms behind his head, wondering what her next move would be.

"God, you've got a mammoth prick!" she stated. "I've never seen one-a real flesh and blood one-quite that large before."

"Well, thanks."

"You're hot, aren't you?" He nodded.

"If I take care of you-will you-" she hesitated, lifting her eyes to meet his, "-will you do what I want to do?"

He paused, trying to guesstimate just what the hell her favorite sexual pastime was before committing himself to it. He decided it couldn't be anything that he hadn't tried.

"Sure, Anna."

Quickly, she grasped his organ with both hands, her head bending swiftly and her mouth closing over the bulbous tip of his aching penis. Skillfully she began sucking it, lolling her tongue around it with expert care, her head bobbing rhythmically as she slid her wet lips up and down the pulsating length of the stiff penis. Despite his best efforts to hold back as long as possible in order to enjoy as much of the exquisite pleasure her mouth was creating, he found himself unable to wait very long and a few seconds later was climaxing violently into her busy mouth, almost doubling-up with the urgency of the orgasm. She kept right on sucking and drinking the semen down until he was no longer erect but merely a limp noodle that she still nursed upon with steady concentration.

"Hey! Enough!" he laughed. "Getting a little sensitive now, Anna!"

She lifted her head, wiping her mouth on the edge of the sheet. "Enjoy that, lover?" she inquired.

"Sure did. You give great head!"

"So I've been told."

"You suck like you're enjoying it, too." She shrugged. "I don't dislike it and I know it's very popular with most men."

"You better believe it!" he chuckled.

"I'll be right back." She rose from the bed and left the room, reappearing a few moments later and snapping on the light. Clark froze when he saw what she was holding in her hands-a wicked looking whip and a couple of short lengths of clothesline. She smirked at him with intense excitement flooding her face. Unconsciously she gently beat the whip against her own thigh. Clark felt a chill go up his backbone.

"Guess what I like best?" she giggled.

"Forget it!" He rolled away from her in a single motion, leaping to his feet on the far side of the bed. "I don't play that game, baby!"

"You promised you would do any-"

"So screw the promise! I'm not about to let you tie my hands and feet, and beat the living shit outa me with that thing! Okay, so you dig the bondage bit. I don't. That's all there is to it!"

"Goddamn you, you promised!" Her face twisted with her frustration, and she suddenly looked quite ugly. "You son of a bitch! You're going to keep that promise! Like it or not, you're going to do exactly what I say!"

"Up yours, baby!"

With a shriek of mingled rage and frustration, she raced around the bed and began slashing at him with the whip. It stung-then it cut into his flesh with knife-like sharpness. He threw up his hands to protect his eyes, feeling another slicing, stinging blow on his bare shoulder-and glanced long enough to see a thin line of blood oozing where the whip had bitten into his hide.

Fear turned into savage anger.

Feinting, he dodged the next two blows of the madly flailing whip and-rapidly stepping toward her, taking a third slashing across his chest-slammed his fist into her belly. As she doubled-up in agony, dropping the whip, he brought his hand down across the nape of her neck, karate-fashion. She went down to the floor instantly. Grabbing her thick hair, he yanked her face up and saw she was out cold. Still almost insane with pain, fear and rage, he smashed his fist into her face. With satisfaction he saw the blood gouting from her nose and split-lips as he released her hair, letting her head drop heavily back upon the carpeted floor.

For a few seconds he stood there, panting with the exertion and feeling the pain increasing where her whip had chewed his flesh bloody. Then he stepped over the unconscious woman and got to his pants hanging over the back of a chair. Ten minutes later he had broken the whip, taken over three-thousand dollars in American bills from her oversized purse and returned to his bedroom to find her weakly vomiting as she knelt on her hands and knees where she had been lying a few minutes earlier.

"You've got exactly a half-hour to pull yourself together, get your things into your goddamned car and get the hell outa here," he told her in a steady, cold voice. "Give me the slightest bit of trouble or even an argument and you won't be in any condition to drive when I'm through kicking the hell out of you! Do you hear me loud and clear?"

She nodded, still retching.

He waited until she was able to get to her feet and stagger erratically into the bathroom off her bedroom. She was in there for twenty minutes. When she emerged, the blood had been washed from her face but she looked pale, weak and shaken.

"Emilio's going to hear about this!" she muttered, gathering her belongings. "You're going to be very, very sorry that you hurt me!"

"You want more of the same?"

She finished packing in silence and he carried some of her baggage out to the car. "I'm not going to pay you a single dollar," she told him defiantly after getting behind the steering wheel. "And if you force me to hand over any money, I'll get it back if I have to hire somebody to do it."

He jerked a thumb at the nearby highway leading toward La Paz. "On your way, weirdo!" he snarled. "Hit that road while you can see it!"

She drove off without further conversation.

Returning to the house, Clark dialed Murphy's number, hearing the man's oily voice answering after a few rings.

"This is Perry Clark," he said crisply.

"What's wrong?" Murphy demanded. "You wouldn't be calling at this hour unless something-"

"Anna Johnson just got her ass thrown out of here. She tried to cut me up with her little play toy-and I was forced to cool her by roughing her up some."

"Pl-Play toy?"

"The crazy bitch digs the bondage and punishment bit. When I refused to cooperate, she went nuts and started whipping me, anyway. So I belted her a few good ones to change her mind." Clark sighed wearily into the mouthpiece. "And, by the way, old buddy, she didn't pay a dime."

"She didn't!" yelled Murphy.

"Nope. Said she was going to take her complaint straight to you. She was here exactly three days. So it's up to you to try and collect the twelve-hundred she owes." Clark grinned at himself in the mirror over the phone as the lie left his mouth. "I won't even charge her for the damage to my hide, man!"

"She'll pay-don't worry! She's alone down here. And I've got ways of making a stubborn client pay up. Especially since I happen to know she has no dangerous friends even in the states." Murphy's tone was chilly, grim with determination.

"Fine. Just be sure the next client you send me is no weirdo, man. I'm getting tired of these rich screwballs. Let's just screen them out at your end and only have us a nice, sex-hungry parade of broads who dig the more peaceful, less troublesome forms of fun times, huh? Otherwise, I may get suddenly took with disinterest in this whole setup."

"Relax. The next one will be no trouble. I've already checked her out pretty good-but I'll go even further before I send her along."

"Give me a couple of weeks for these whip cuts to heal. Okay?"

"All right."

"Incidentally, what makes you so sure the next one will be just anxious for romance and grateful for love, old buddy?"

Murphy chuckled. "Wait'll you see her. Name's Ramona Smith. A typical case of menopausal lust if I ever saw one. She took one look at your photo and almost had an orgasm on the spot, judging from the expression on her face. She won't be any trouble. Not unless you can't pour enough stick to the poor old nympho!"

"She's old?"

"Old enough to be your mother, but not repulsively aged or anything like that. Just no beauty and so hot she can hardly see straight."

"Well, tell Ramona Smith that her future host has to recover from the goddamn flu or something, and don't send her up for a week or two." He talked for a few more minutes, then terminated the conversation.

After cleaning the whip-cuts and liberally dousing them with disinfectant, Clark went into the kitchen and assembled everything he needed for some steady drinking, carrying it outside so he could sit under the stars in the cool, night air while he eased the pain of the whipping with booze.

Hell, he thought, sipping at the first water ball, I'm getting tired of this whole scene. Why not just take the next client and make her the last one? I can always come back and get this thing going again when I want. Shit, I've got damn near fifteen grand in the bank. And I'm homesick to see something besides this stinking hotbox of a country. He drained the glass and poured himself another, stiffer drink. I'd like to get the hell out of here for a few months. Maybe see San Francisco or L.A. Christ, yes. It's probably time to close shop for awhile and just drift around, hunting better action.

Six drinks later, the alcohol having eased his pain and settled his nerves into a peaceful euphoria of confidence and practicality, he had talked himself into staying for as many more clients as it might require for him to amass a goal of twenty-five-thousand dollars before leaving the beach house.

He decided to ignore his dissatisfaction by just having a few more village girls between clients as a choice reward for the rigors of the racket.

TEN

She was screeching hysterically.

Clapping a hand over her mouth, Clark stifled her terrified cries and thrust his hardened penis deeper into the vagina he had just entered with violent and urgent force. She threshed wildly beneath him, her legs kicking convulsively. Shifting his position so he could hold her still enough to continue screwing and still glance up from time to time, checking to be sure they were still undiscovered in the gully he had selected as the place to have her, he drove the penis forward and backward, again and again, the pleasure of each movement bringing him closer to the orgasm he knew must explode any moment.

Suddenly, she went limp-slumping completely under him, her legs thudding into the sandy loam of the gully. He stared at her face without interrupting the savage motions of his undulating body, realizing she had fainted. Then he was coming with intense enjoyment and he forgot everything except the spurting release of juices spasmodically pumping from the tingling end of his organ into the tight, slippery little pussy under him. When he had completed the orgasm and was still panting for breath, she opened her eyes with a few fluttering blinks. Grunting, he withdrew his still semi-stiff organ from her body and lifted his weight from her.

She stayed sprawled on the ground, her legs still opened, revealing the gaping lips of her bloodied organ that he had just violated. Her eyes were glazed with pain and shock, her mouth slightly open and a thin stream of saliva oozing from one comer of it.

"Shit, you really put up the best fight I've had yet, baby! I thought I was never going to get my stick into you!" Pulling his trousers up, he shook sand out of the crotch before hoisting them all the way up and belting them on again. "Yeah, and you sure were worth the struggle, too!"

"I-I feel much ill," she moaned in Spanish.

"It'll pass, baby. You pull yourself together and I'll drop you off at the bus station in the village." He helped her to her feet where she swayed weakly while he steadied her. She was somewhere between twelve and fifteen years old. She came from a village further south. Juanito had gotten her to make the trip, promising her a good job as a maid for a wealthy American family. She was the third such girl her age that the kid had conned into leaving her home village to travel to the nearby village where he turned them over to Clark who simply took them into the hills and raped them, putting them back into Juanito's mercenary care for the return bus ride homeward-knowing that there was practically no chance of reprisal, legally or otherwise, since Juanito assured each little victim that the man who had forced her to submit was a dangerous American gangster, meanwhile pressing more Spanish pesos into their hands than they had ever seen in their entire, poverty-stricken lives.

So far it had worked beautifully. Every other day Clark received a phone call from the energetic Juanito who had conned still another village innocent into arriving. From there, it was a simple matter of getting her into the car, taking her to an isolated spot and getting the young tail that he had learned to crave with an almost frightening need.

No longer did Clark pet them or ply them with candy or wait patiently. Now he just began pulling their pants down-when they wore any-or pushing their pretty brown thighs apart and brutally ravishing them while they screamed in terror and pain. He knew he liked to do it this way. It seemed to add something extra to the act to not only have a virgin but have her against her will.

Leading this one back to the car, Clark helped her into the seat, got behind the wheel and thirty minutes later was transferring her back into the hands of the enterprising Juanito who now received fifty American dollars for each virgin he produced from distant villages, including their safe return and inducement for their silence.

The kid was waiting under the bridge at the edge of the village as usual. Clark stopped the car and helped the still-trembling girl out. Juanito appeared from beneath the stone bridge.

"Okay, senor?" he asked, grinning.

"Just fine." Clark handed him the fifty in small bills. "You better give her a little time to pull herself together. She seemed to take it harder than any of the others. A real wildcat."

"I will comfort her," he snickered.

I bet you will, you pint-sized pimp! Clark thought, getting back into the car and watching the kid lead the dazed girl under the bridge. I just bet you'll comfort the shit out of her messy little cunt before you get around to putting her on the bus! Well, you're welcome to seconds as long as you can keep the tender young stuff coming my way.

Heading back toward the beach house, he counted the number of girls he had deflowered in the past two weeks. Exactly six of the little, wide-eyed darlings. And what if they did smell a bit sweaty? Or really stunk like a couple of them had? They were almost all the same in the box department-untouched, tighter than a gnat's asshole and the best goddamned lays he'd ever had because they fought and yelled and sobbed and wiggled up a frenzied storm each time he got between their legs. He smiled, recalling the one he had forced to sit on the peg. Wonder if that's a first? he mused. I've never heard of a broad getting raped while straddling a guy's lap. I'd have never been able to shove it to her that way if she hadn't been the docile type who just sat there, crying her head off but not really fighting! Who would have ever thought-back in the days when I thought I was doing great to get into a goddamned loose-boxed housewife-that I'd ever be having this kind of fun!

Then he remembered that his next client Ramona Smith-was due to arrive the next day. Regretfully, he sighed, knowing he would have to stop adding the village cherries to his growing list until the old bag had left-and the prospect of having to fart around, playing the great lover to some rich old hag depressed him immensely.

"Shit, I hope she can't afford to stay more than four or five days," he muttered, bringing the car up to the house and killing the engine. "Business before pleasure but not too much business before the cool pleasure I've got going back there in the hills!"

Going into the house, he was heading for the shower to wash away the sweat of the afternoon's romp when Isabella appeared at the end of the hall.

"Senor Clark, your guest has arrived." Her expression was dour as always. He knew she had a very low opinion of him and the women who arrived with regularity but she knew which side of the taco her beans were jammed into and restricted herself to merely looking disapproving. "The senora awaits you aboard her boat."

"What?" He stepped to a bedroom window that overlooked the beach. A sleek, fair-sized cruiser was tied up to the small dock. Nobody was in sight on the boat's deck. "Well, what's she doing here now? She isn't supposed to arrive until tomorrow."

"I do not know, senor. She sent word that she wishes you to join her as soon as you have returned." Having delivered her dutiful message, Isabella promptly vanished into another part of the house. Clark stared at the boat, bewildered.

"Well, she can just goddamn well wait out there until I've had a chance to clean up and get a drink in my fist!" He stomped off to shower, seething with annoyance at this unexpected early arrival, knowing he was reluctant to have to begin being charming a day ahead of time. When he had enjoyed a long, refreshing shower, changed into clean clothes and sat quietly sipping a tall, tinkling drink of tequila and grapefruit juice-he finally wandered out to the dock. Strolling onto its weathered, bleached plankings, he slowly approached the boat which rode the inrolling swells with a gentle rising and dipping. A brown face appeared, peering at him from the cruiser's cockpit. It vanished momentarily only to reappear, and a short, muscular Mexican man about his own age stood on the fantail, gesturing him to come aboard.

"Senor Clark?" he asked politely.

"Yeah, I'm Clark." He stepped over the gunwale, shading his eyes against the sun with a hand, trying to see into the dimness of the cabin. "Where's Mrs. Smith-the lady I'm expecting?"

The man indicated the cabin.

Clark walked into the comparative coolness of the air-conditioned cabin, sliding the glassdoors closed behind him.

"Hello, you miserable bastard!" said a female voice.

Clark whirled around, fear blossoming in his belly as he recognized the woman seated, holding the gun pointed straight at him. She smiled unpleasantly.

Ramona Smith was none other than Willa Andrews.

"How did you find me?" Clark asked the question, trying to control the way his voice tended to quaver. She was still pointing that gun at him. He glanced out a port-window, watching the water race by as the boat headed to sea. "You must have really spent some time and bucks tracing me clear down here, and I still don't understand how it could be done."

"Stop flattering yourself. It was pure accident." She lit a cigarette without offering him one, her hold upon the gun-which looked like a .38 revolver-never wavering. "I came down here for some sun and fun. Ran into that creepy Emilio Murphy."

"And he showed you my photo!"

She nodded, solemnly. "Just like that, you rotten son of a bitch! So I gave him a phony name that would keep you put until I could get here, since Murphy refused to give your whereabouts for two weeks."

Goddamn that photo! he thought despairingly. Here, I had two solid weeks to get the hell out and split for someplace else! Christ, what lousy luck!

"I'll-I'll give you the five-grand back right away, Willa." He tried for a beaten, ashamed expression, hoping it would soften her up. "I know I did wrong. I won't even try to explain any of-"

"Shut your stinking mouth!"

He gaped at her. The viciousness of her tone made his flesh crawl with fear.

"B-But I only-"

"Shut up or I'll blow a hole in you right now!"

He went rigid with fear, trembling with it, feeling his guts roil with nausea caused by it. He fought against an insane urge to start crying.

"Now hear me good, Perry. All my life I never was able to have what I really wanted. My husband turned out to be a hell of a disappointment. You've seen my queer daughter. And every time I saw a man I wanted-it just never seemed to work out. And after awhile I began to give up hope. Sure, I had money like you wouldn't believe-and everything money can buy! But I still didn't have somebody who needed me, wanted me just for me!"

"L-Listen, Willa, let me ex-"

"SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH!" she yelled.

"Oh, God!" he moaned, the bitter taste of bile in his throat and mouth as the fear frantically expanding in his belly sent the vile stuff upward. '

"Now I've got more money than you could probably steal in the next ten years. But when I met you-I went a little nuts. You were handsome. Understanding. Modest. Gentle. And I actually let myself believe that you needed me. That meant that I was really happy for the first time since I had been just a little girl! Do you have any idea what that meant, you shitty fake?" She had begun crying but the gun held steady.

He didn't dare speak and he was afraid to stay silent. Forcing his eyes away from the barrel of the revolver, he glanced out the window to see they were completely out-of-sight of land now.

"Look at me while I'm talking to you, you piece of human puke!" Her voice was ragged with fury.

He snapped his attention back to the gun.

"So you used me just to get a few dollars-and, worst of all, you cruelly took off before I could even tell you just how important you were to me. I almost went crazy, trying to find you. I checked out the town where you were supposed to have gone. Nobody ever heard of you or your mother. That was just a crock of crap, wasn't it?"

He nodded, lowering his eyes-not from shame but simply because he knew he was going to vomit with fear if he had to look at that gun any longer.

"Yeah, it all figures." She sounded weary. "I guess you must have laughed about it quite a lot-about the screwy, sex-happy old bag who was just hotted-up enough to let you take five-thousand dollars off her." She sobbed quietly but, when he glanced up, she still held the gun steadily.

"May I say something, please-Willa?"

"Wh-What, you dirty bastard?"

"Pi-Please don't shoot me. Please! I know I've hurt you badly-and I'll try to make it up to you if you'll let me-but don't sh-shoot me, Willa! For God's sake, don't shoot m-me!"

"Take your clothes off." Her tone was flat.

"Wh-What?"

"Strip, you mean bastard! Now!"

He began undressing, his hands shaking so violently that he could hardly manage it. She began pulling her blouse off. She wore no bra beneath it, and her large, full breasts fell out heavily as the blouse opened. Shrugging it off, she stood up, tugging her slacks down. He watched her carefully, hoping for even the smallest chance to jump her and possibly get that gun away from her but she stepped out of the slacks and panties, kicking them away and still keeping him covered with the menacing weapon.

Then they faced each other, naked. "Sit down!" she ordered. He sat.

She came to him, letting the tip of the revolver's icy barrel touch the side of his skull and he almost fainted with fright at the cold contact of the steel against his head.

"Make one dumb move to get this gun and I blow your brains out before your hand gets half-way to it, see?" Her voice was soft, deadly soft and he knew she meant every word she was saying. "Now you just work up a nice, hard erection. When it's all ready-I'll sit on the peg and you'll hold very still while I have fun sliding up and down your fine, long stick! But try to get this gun-and you're a dead lover, Perry-boy!"

He had some difficulty achieving an erection but he finally managed to get one after she reached out and fondled his organ for a few seconds. Then, very slowly and very cautiously she positioned herself over the upright, quivering tip of his penis-and she lowered herself upon it, impaling her body upon its rigidity. Despite the fear, he felt the familiar sensation of pleasure as her moist, warm vagina closed over his throbbing shaft and she began slowly moving up and down-holding the revolver's barrel to his head. She started breathing faster with each motion her body made, and Clark suddenly wondered if she might not accidentally pull the trigger when she climaxed. The thought paralyzed him.

"Wh-When you come-d-don't pull th-that trigger, will y-you, Willa?" He managed to get the words out of a throat constricted with fear.

"I'll try not to, darling boy!"

To Clark's utter disbelief and astonishment, they started coming together, each of them tensing with their respective orgasms and for a few seconds he forgot the gun-intent upon the spasms of urgent pleasure exploding from his penis as she frenziedly pumped herself up and down upon its length-tiny moans of ecstasy dribbling from her slack mouth.

"Oh, that was wonderful!" she panted.

"W-Willa, can we-" He never finished the request to talk things over because his head suddenly exploded with brilliant pain and he toppled into total darkness.

As semi-consciousness returned-a greyness that held him numbly, helplessly-he was vaguely aware that somebody was tying his feet together tightly. And he could feel something hard and cold beside his bound feet. Twice, he slipped back further into the greyness, escaping the terrible agony in his head.

"You're fine, dear boy, just fine!" Her voice penetrated the greyness, pulling him back to the pounding anguish in his head. "Now you're never going to belong to anyone except me again-and as long as you live, darling lover!"

Blinding pain cleared his senses enough so he saw that his feet were securely tied to a large, steel anchor. Another wild glance through squinted eyes, fighting the agony, brought Willa into focus: She was opening a section of the railing just beyond his feet where the sea sparkled and leaped so prettily.

"Wait a minute, Willa-Pl-Please!" he begged.

She pushed the anchor over the side of the deck and he had one last, fragmentary glimpse of her pale face and the sunlit world before he plunged into the warm, green water. Then the noise of his plunge faded away and he felt himself being dragged deeper and deeper into the greenness. There was no time to think. No time to feel fear.

Perry Clark was too busy drowning.

THE END
Box Boy ....(93k)    by Cliff Kelly




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