Luana was a good girl, just ask her fiance. He had been going with her for three years, and she would barely let him kiss her. It was unthinkable, then, that Luana would wind up as a member of a Lesbian-oriented, call-girl con racket. But there she was, in a certain motel cottage at the wrong time that certain day. ... Dr. Harold Greenwald, in-his study. The Call Girl, tells us: "Because of their special problems, most of these girls had not been able to adhere to the pattern of sexual conformity necessary to membership in most social groups. Most women avoid friendships with girls who participate constantly in promiscuous sexual relations. Therefore these girls, to have any friends as they grew up and as they began to participate in promiscuous sexual behavior, had to find groups of people like themselves, to whom their sexually deviant behavior was acceptable. Such associations are formed in that gray area situated halfway between respectable society and full criminals-an area where drug addicts, shady businessmen of various kinds, bookmakers and large numbers of other people who seem to have lost their attachments to normal society form a society of their own. It was within this world that the girls made their first contacts with other call girls. None of the girls interviewed decided to become a call girl without having someone make the suggestion to her. By becoming call girls, they gave themselves some sense of belonging in this gray world."
CHAPTER ONE
THE GIRL IN THE NEXT ROOM WAS LIVING PROOF THAT the adage about men seldom making passes at girls who-wore glasses was palpably cockeyed. As she stood facing the mirror atop her dresser, her saucily upstanding, round, dimpled buttocks lovingly hugged by snug, white-satin panties, the elegantly sculptured column of her smooth pink-skinned back breathtakingly bare except for the narrow bandeau of the matching bra, Luana Matthews adjusted her harlequin-framed glasses and dispassionately frowned.
NO susceptible member of the opposite sex could have ignored her, seeing her in this scanty deshabille. A sculptor would have hailed her five-feet-six-inch figure as the perfect model for a statue of a modern Venus. From those captivatingly eloquent buttocks flowed the long, gracefully rounded curves of womanly thighs and piquantly trim, firm calves. Her knees, which to a connoisseur of feminine pulchritude would have been a prime criterion of beauty, were suavely rounded and delightfully dimpled. The fashionably low-cut bra, really unessential save for decorum's sake, armorously cupped two high-set deep-valleyed round globes whose broad coral circles were centered by pert, crinkly buds that thrust against the thin satin at each breath.
She had large, widely spaced blue eyes, a trifle myopic, which was why she wore glasses. But although she was a senior at McDougal College, just three months past her twentieth birthday, and a virgin, it would have been wrong to infer that her glasses denoted a bluenose. Even though she had maintained a B average through her four years at McDougal, her sorority sisters at Delta Kappa Phi never once had thought of her as a "greasy grind." One indication of that was that Luana herself, when informed at the age of fifteen that it would be beneficial for her to wear glasses for reading and studies, insisted that the frames be harlequin style. "I don't want to look like a dope," she had stoutly declared. And she had gotten her way.
Leaning toward the mirror, she pursed charmingly full red lips and touched her dimpled left cheek with a slim forefinger. There was just the hint of a pimple there, she had noticed before breakfast. Too many milk shakes at Denby's, the crowded off-campus hangout, she told herself. But it was hardly visible, and it was certainly the only flaw on that glowing complexion. Luana used almost no make-up, except eye-liner on the occasions when she dated Phil Corcoran, McDougal's all-state tackle, and, like herself, a senior.
She straightened, the frown disappearing, and she smiled at herself. The mirror reflected a bewitchingly heart-shaped face, with dainty little ears, a capriciously turned-up nose with broadly flaring, thin wings, contrasting with the firm chin and jawline that denoted determination. A student of physiognomy would have said that her features merged impulsiveness, rich femininity and independent will-and he would have been entirely accurate.
She gave a playful pat to the new "doll" hair style which Bessie Josephs, her favorite beautician at the Emerald Beauty Salon, had urged her to try. It added still another and divergent note to her appearance, for it had left her pale-golden hair short with the cut made in layers to give the coiffure a little height. The bangs were thick with deep waves at either side, and provocative guiches curled forward with a sophisticated flair. The back was sleekly tapered. It was the coiffure, she thought, of a youthful society matron engaged in a whirlwind of fashionable parties, or that of a smart career girl who could be heartlessly a femme fatale or an imaginative siren with a secret lover. At any rate, she concluded, it was a welcome change from her usual pageboy. And it did seem to give her face a little more strength; at least, it didn't make her look so "sweet and angelic," to quote her doting mother. She made a face at the mirror, just thinking of that remark. Mom was a darling, but she had the darnedest habit of breaking out in company with some such remark just like that and embarrassing you to pieces.
But then, most of her life she'd been Mom's favorite. Dad's too. She'd always tried to show she didn't want to be, if only for Don's sake. Don was her seventeen-year-old brother, just finishing high school, and something of a problem. He was a bug about stereo, and sometimes she had to pound on the wall to get him to turn down the volume on the Berlioz Requiem or Prokofieff's Scythian Suite. He spent all his allowance on long-playing records, as well as most of the money he made working after school and Saturday afternoons as a service attendant in a neighborhood cleaner's shop. He was tall, wiry, with touseled, black hair which he rarely combed. His face was sensitive, thin-lipped, aquiline-nosed, with a high forehead, and melancholy, brown eyes. He was soft-spoken, and inclined to periods of silent sulkiness and moroseness, especially when she chided him about blasting his stereo set. What he needed, Luana concluded, was a girl. But so far he hadn't shown the slightest interest in the opposite sex. Mostly, he palled around with Joe Maxon, a plump, stocky, brown-haired youth of Don's own age, who shared his enthusiasm for stereo and tennis. Luana had little use for Joe, considering him cheeky and snobbish. And Joe had the nastiest way of looking at her, sweeping her from head to toe with a silly grin that made her want to slap him. Joe didn't have a girl either, she knew.
But tonight she didn't have time to worry about her brother or his friend. She had a date with Phil, and she was looking forward to it. It was Friday night and he was going to take her to La Hacienda del Sol, that wonderful new Mexican restaurant over in the Old Town section. Phil wanted her to try their camarones al carbon, jumbo shrimp, charcoal-broiled and served with a unique Mexican sauce and Spanish rice, and, for dessert, apple baked in flan, which was a rich kind of custard. It sounded heavenly. Also fattening-she patted her tummy. No, really, she didn't have to worry about putting on weight, thank goodness. And after dinner, they were going to the Town Theater to see a new French film that Phil said was marvelous, with Jean-Paul Belmondo and Claudia Cardinale.
She smiled happily. Phil was a perfect lamb. And the surprising thing about him was that for a campus football hero, he wasn't just the muscular type. He had brains too, and his B plus average showed it. And in the three years they'd been dating, she'd found him a clever conversationalist, thoughtful and very flattering to a girl's ego, and physically exciting. He wasn't the rough mauler type at all. His kisses and caresses sometimes left her gasping for breath, they were so subtly demanding.
She flushed, thinking of last Friday. They'd agreed to become unofficially engaged. Phil was going to go into his dad's automobile sales business after college.
Kenneth Corcoran ran the biggest dealership in their town, and it was no secret he was grooming Phil to take over. A year on the floor as an ordinary salesman learning the ropes, another year in the service department, and then maybe a chance to work with the factory and handle paper and orders. So they wouldn't get married right away, but as far as Luana was concerned, he was her guy.
Phil was beginning to get eager about marriage lately. Of course, she couldn't blame him, not when they'd agreed to be engaged. Phil said that was almost as good as marriage, though she didn't agree. One thing was for sure, she was going to have to calm him down if he started to get ideas about living together. When he'd kissed her good night at the door last Friday, he'd come out with a sheepish grin and something about had she ever read what Judge Ben Lindsey said about people who loved each other and planned to get married but couldn't right away. She hadn't, not then. But just the other day at the library, she'd asked Miss Hewes, the assistant librarian, if there were any books by this Judge Lindsey, and Miss Hewes had brought her one. And after reading it, she knew she was going to have problems with Phil. Nice problems, of course, the kind a girl who loves a guy doesn't mind having, if she can handle them. Because the fact was, she wanted to go to bed with him, although she knew it would be a mistake. Suppose they didn't get married for a few years, till Phil actually took over as sales manager at Corcoran Rambler? They might get involved, and then maybe decide they didn't want to get married at all. And as far as she could tell after reading that book, if you let a fellow have you all the time, you didn't have any real hold on him if he decided he could find a sexier girl to take your place. And he might figure you as cheap and easy, not the kind he'd marry.
Well, there was time to worry about that when it happened. And she looked forward to tonight. That was one nice thing about Chicago, you didn't have to travel to get the atmosphere of foreign countries. Like having Mexican food in an elegant restaurant that was built like a real hacienda, with a courtyard and all, and murals on the walls, and then seeing a witty new movie right from Paris.
She'd better get dressed. Phil would be calling for her in about twenty minutes. Maybe she'd better put on a panty-girdle, too. For one thing, it might shape up her buttocks so they wouldn't wobble. Well, maybe that wasn't the word, but she'd heard enough whistles on campus to realize that when she just wore panties and a garter belt, she undulated a bit too much for modesty. Besides, a panty-girdle had double powers of restraint; besides holding her hips in cheek, it would do the same for Phil in case he got carried away.
Swiftly stooping, she slipped down the white satin panties, stepped out of them, picked them up, then pulled open a middle drawer, and took out a white satin panty-girdle. Tugging it up till it fitted without a wrinkle, she examined herself in the mirror. Yes, that was much better. Next, she sat down on the edge of her bed and drew on a pair of smoke-colored nylons, smoothing them out and then hooking the tabs to their tops. Rising, she glanced down to inspect them. If there was anything she hated seeing on a girl, it was sloppy, sagging stockings.
Now for the slip and dress. She pulled open the second drawer of the chest and chose a white satin slip. Holding it in one hand, she rummaged with the other under the neatly stacked pile of slips and petticoat till she found what she'd hidden under them. Her diary. Luana had kept one since she was fifteen. She filled it with a chronicle of what happened but also with such philosophical comments and spiritual thoughts as occurred at random moments. Often these were useful when she had to do a theme for school. Nobody else knew about the diary, not even Mon and Dad. It was, in a way, her own secret bid for privacy, a protection against those embarrassing times when Mom started getting so possessive and doting when company was around. She could express her views on everything in there, without worrying about lectures from her folks. She could write down how Phil's kisses affected her, without worrying whether Mom would get all excited and insist on giving her a lecture on what every girl should know after the selfishness of fellows. That was one of Mom's pet subjects, anyway. Every time she read in the papers about some teen-ager getting in any kind of trouble, she would start talking about the modern generation's lack of morality and the dangers of getting into trouble if a girl or boy wasn't careful.
She pushed the diary farther back under the pile of lingerie, closed the drawer. Then, standing in front of the mirror, she drew on the slip and adjusted the shoulder straps. Bessie had done a lovely job on her hair. She hoped Phil would like it. Now to apply a bit of perfume and then put on her dress. She disappeared into the adjacent bathroom and closed the door.
In the room next door, Don Matthews, face flushed, carefully let himself down from the top of his heavy mahogany dresser, groping with his sneaker-shod foot for the chair which he had drawn up against the dresser. He was perspiring from the exertion of huddling op there, holding his breath and making sure the dresser didn't creak, as it sometimes did.
Luana's parents had bought an old house on Bosworth Avenue ten years before, when Edwin Matthews had been transferred from running a huge furniture discount chain store in Hyde Park to his firm's new outlet on the North Side. It was a two-story house, with a big, fenced-in yard, and plenty of room for the children, who hitherto had had to live in a five-room apartment and take turns with the other bathroom. Here, Luana had her own room and bath, and so did Don. But Don's room had originally been built with a door which opened into Luana's. When the Matthews' moved in, Edwin Matthews had the movers put his old chest of drawers up against the door; when Don grew up, it would be perfect as a storage place for shirts, socks, underwear and all the other casual clothes a boy wears.
The door had been stuck long before the Matthews moved in. And it had been badly fitted when the house was built. There was a wide crack all along the top. When he was 12, Don, kept home from school one day by a sudden, severe head cold, had started to explore his room for want of anything better to do. And he had found the crack, and discovered that by putting a chair against the chest of drawers and crawling onto the top and crouching there, he could look right into Luana's room.
When he had realized the possibilities, he put them almost immediately to the test. Locking his door that night at about the time he estimated his sister would be getting ready for bed, he had crawled onto the top of the chest and peeped in. He had almost let out a loud gasp when he saw that Luana was in the process of taking off her clothes and getting into her pajamas. He had also discovered that the heavy chest would creak if he shifted his weight, which meant long, motionless periods of suspense-filled waiting. But his view was well worth the temporary aches and cramps of that posture.
Not only had he seen her naked many times, but he had discovered that she kept a diary. What was more, he had found it and read it several times. And he was going to do I-t again tonight, as soon as she left for her date with that football star of hers.
He waited till Luana had turned out the light and closed the door. He tiptoed to his door and crouched there, waiting, his head cocked, a smirk on his thin lips broadening as he heard the sound of her footsteps down the hall and down the old-fashioned, winding staircase to the first floor. A moment later, he heard the doorbell. That must be her boy friend in his red convertible. Pretty soft to have a dad who owned a dealership. Having a car didn't cost you a cent, not even upkeep. Not that he wanted a car. He had better ways for spending his dough. He'd be needing a new diamond point for the Stanton pickup on his turntable. Some of his newest LP's were starting to sound fuzzy. That meant the needle was wearing out. And one of these days he wanted to swap his two 12-inch Quams for a pair of Jensen three-speaker, two-way systems. Then he'd really be able to hear that low organ pedal point in Strauss' Also Spach Zarathustra, in that super Victor album with Fritz Reiner conducting. Maybe Joe Maxon would buy his Quams when he got the Jensens.
And another thing he needed was a good tape recorder. A good one cost real dough. He'd seen a new all-transistorized Pentron when Joe had taken him over to Jack Carter's house. Jack's folks were really heeled. His old man was a vice president or something like that in a big ad agency, and his mother ran a fancy interior decorator service as a hobby. A pretty profitable hobby too, considering that all her customers were society friends with as much dough or more than she and her hubby pulled in. That Pentron was a really beauty. Four-track stereo or monaural, and it had built-in stereo speakers and monitoring and you could make it start or stop with the sound of your own voice. You could tape your favorite programs on WFMT or transfer your pet records to tape to preserve the sound. Trouble was, if you played the tape back through speakers that didn't have any real bass, it didn't sound right. That's why he wanted the Jensens. But the Pentron cost about $200, and the speakers would take another $130. And even his allowance and the money from the cleaner's wouldn't add up to an outlay like that, for a long time. By then there'd be new stuff on the market.
There. Now Luana was gone with her boy friend. He'd heard the car drive away. And Mom and Dad were downstairs in the living room watching Run For Your Life. That'd keep 'em busy for an hour. He'd have plenty of time to sneak into Luana's room and read up on her diary-especially about last Friday night, when she'd had a date with Phil.
He had to be careful, though. In the middle of her room, the floorboards creaked, and they were right over the living room. A good thing he had sneakers on and knew where the squeaky floorboards were. He opened his door carefully, then closed it. For a moment he listened at the top of the stairs, and he could hear Ben Gazzara's resonant voice. There wasn't any other sound. His folks were eating it up. Nobody would be coming upstairs till the show was over.
Turning the knob of Luana's door, he entered her room and quietly closed the door. There. Now to move along the side of the wall straight to the end, then cross over in a straight line to reach her dresser. That way, the floor wouldn't creak at all.
Let's see now-it ought to be in the drawer with her slips and things. It had been there the last time he'd checked it. Yes, there it was, on the bottom of the drawer. A nice, thick, black book. It had a strap around it with a snap fastener, not a lock. He was glad she didn't have a lock on it That would have been a little difficult, and even when you forced a lock carefully, you were bound to leave scratches that would give you away.
He opened the strap and thumbed the pages back to the entry for Friday, February 5th. He chuckled as he opened the diary to the first page. She'd really had something to say about the date ... four, five, six whole pages all under that one day. Bet it was hot stuff, too. Not that Luana wasn't a nice girl, but after all, she was twenty and she'd been seeing a lot of Phil Corcoran, and it was a cinch a football hero wouldn't want to stop at playing post office with his best girl.
Don sat down in the armchair with the diary, and began to read. Philosophy. Boy, Luana was sure the intellectual type. The significance of modern marriage. Come on, Luana, skip the flowery junk and get down to bedrock. Wait a second, here it comes!
Well, I'm engaged. Phil asked me if I'd be his girl and marry him some day, and I said yes. But I told him we'd keep it a secret for a while, because neither of us is ready yet. He can't support a wife till he makes good in his dad's place, and he admits that. But he doesn't want to wait very long. I suppose a man has different feelings about sex and love and marriage than a girl does. The way I feel is that I want to marry the man I love and make a lasting go of it and not play around and be cheap. With a man, it's different. He can get excited about any pretty girl and kid himself along that he's got a yen for her till he believes it. Then when he's had his fun, he can get bored and look for somebody else. I don't want that to happen with Phil and me.
But I can see we're going to have problems. Because Phil asked me tonight if I'd ever heard of trial marriage. I hadn't. I'm going to look it up at the library next week. If it means what I think it does, the answer's going to be no. I won't go to bed with a man till I'm married to him. Not that I'm a goody-goody or a prude, I just don't want a man to think I'm easy and cheap. He won't respect me or want to marry me. Even Phil, and I love him more than I've told him. I do want to be in his arms and do everything married people do. I'm certainly old enough to get married. Old enough to have had a couple of affairs, like Kitty Drew, in our sorority. And if Elinor Darby, our prexy, ever guessed that I was still a virgin, she'd laugh me out of the sorority.
He kissed me awfully hard before he brought me home. And he put his hand on my breast the way he's been doing our last few dates. Only this time, he wanted to slip his hand down inside my bra and I wouldn't let him. It's awfully hard for a girl who's going steady with a fellow she likes to say no to him all the time and not sound like a teaser or a Puritan, but I know what would happen if we both got too excited. I want to wait till my wedding night. It'll be beautiful and exciting because we both want each other very badly, and that's the time for passion, not now.
I found out what trial marriage means. There was a Los Angeles judge who wrote a book on it. His theory is that people should have relations to see if they're suited to each other before they make a permanent union. To me, that sounds awfully good for the fellow, but the girl has everything to lose. I love Phil very much, and I just hope he's really man enough not to ask me to prove I love him by doing a thing like that. Because then I'd know he'd just be wanting what he could get for his own selfish pleasure without considering my feelings. If he really loves me as I'm sure I love him, we can both wait till the right time comes.
"Aw, c'mon, sis, you can do better than that," Don sniggered to himself as he closed the diary and locked the strap back into place around it. "Let's have some real hot entries for tonight. I'll be in to check up again." He tucked the diary back under the pile of lingerie and closed the drawer. "Boy, I wish I could find her old diaries, but she's probably got them locked up in that metal index file she keeps on her desk. I better not try to monkey with that, or she'd find out."
He eyed the file box longingly, then chuckled. "Sure wish I could watch my big sister holding off that great big football player tonight. Bet she's gonna have trouble on her hands." Then he grimaced. "Women! They give a guy a pain. Guys can have more fun without them anyhow. Joe and Eddie have the right idea-why waste your money on a girl? You've got nothing left to show for it. Me, I'd rather put mine into stereo and records, and have something."
He turned out the light and opened the door, then closed it very slowly. On the way back to his room, he heard his father call, "Don! Where are you?"
"Uh-up here, Dad!"
"Come on down. Didn't you hear me call you before?"
"Uh-no-I-I was doing homework." Quickly he came down the stairs and assumed a concerned look. Edwin Matthews, paunchy, gray-haired, stocky, looked around from the TV chair where he was sitting beside his wife. Corinne Matthews, at 45, was still an attractive woman. Her light-brown hair, worn in a mature upsweep, showed only a few streaks of gray, and her skin was still a youthful warm carnation. Perhaps her waist wasn't quite so slim as when Edwin Matthews had courted her, but her full breasts and well-rounded hips were still the envy of her bridge-playing neighbors of the same general age.
"Are you sure you weren't fiddling with your hi-fi, Don?" Edwin Matthews demanded.
"Gosh, honest, Dad. I was working out some of those darn geometry problems."
"Let's hope you get the right answers. Those grades of yours last semester didn't please me at all. You've got brains, and you did fine your first two years. Now, all of a sudden, you seem not to care anymore. I don't get it, Don."
Don lowered his eyes and shifted his feet uncomfortably. He ran a hand through his touseled hair and grimaced, a mannerism to which he resorted whenever he was on the carpet. Some of his teachers described it as indicative of his "uncommunicative nature." His father put it down to impertinence.
"Look at me when I'm talking to you, Donald." The youth's face reddened. His father only called him Donald when he was in a bad humor.
"Y-yes, sir."
"That's better. Frankly, I'm not happy with your attitude lately. When do you get your first reports?"
"About the fifteenth of March. They'll be okay, though."
"I hope so. But in the meantime, you'll devote less time to your hi-fi and your friends Joe and Eddie. There'll be no more going out with them on school nights. Just Fridays and Saturdays, understand? And if those reports aren't satisfactory, maybe I'll curtail even those outings. You'll be graduated in June, and I want a decent average out of you, especially if you have any plans about going to college. C and C-minus won't get you in, you know."
"Yes, sir. But I haven't spent too much time on my stereo lately-"
"No, I'll give you that. But you've been running over to Joe's or Ed's a couple nights a week. And it's to stop till I see those first reports, that's final. And if they come over here on a school night, you're to tell them you're busy with homework. Is that clear?"
He nodded sulkily.
"Get that unhappy look off your face, Donald. You're not martyr, you know. What's got into you anyway?"
"N ... nothing."
"Oh, Edwin, you shouldn't be too hard on him," Corinne Matthews said.
"I'm not being hard on him. But his first two years in high school, he had A's and B-pluses all over his report cards. Now he's slipping, and I can't figure out why. He doesn't go out with girls, he works after school and Saturdays, and he doesn't have any bad habits, not like some of the young hoodlums in the neighborhood. And he's got a bright mind when he puts it to work. It's his whole attitude. All right, Donald, you can go back to your room."
"Yes sir."
Lips tight, face flushed, Don smacked his hand on the banister and took the stairs two at a time. When he reached the landing, he looked down and clenched his fist.
Then he went into his room and slammed the door. As he flung himself down in the chair before his desk and dragged the geometry book over, he was scowling. A wave of self-pity flooded him. "It's all right for Sis to go gallivanting out all night with her boy friend. Sure. They don't keep tabs on her. The Little Princess can't do any wrong. They make me sick. She does too. Someday I'll let her have a taste of what it feels like to be treated like-like a criminal. That's what they're doing, all because I spend an hour or so over at my friend's place. I suppose if I were dating a girl, it'd be fine. Maybe Dad would think I was okay then. What does he know? Girls! Who wants them? Who needs them, anyhow?"
Angrily, he opened the book, and, hunching his shoulders, started to read the page with eyes that had suddenly become blurred with resentful tears.
Dinner had been delightful. The food had been first-rate, and the atmosphere colorful, yet quiet. And there'd been plenty of lighting. Luana liked to see her food as well as the surroundings in which it was served. Lots of fancy restaurants had the lights so low you couldn't even see the check when the waiter brought it. That was supposed to be romantic, but for her part, romance wasn't for public display and she'd much rather see what was going on. And then Cartouche had been marvelous. Swashbuckling satire except for the tear-jerking finale where Claudia Cardinale gets shot by the police chief's soldiers, and all because Jean-Paul Belmondo had to ignore her and fall in love with the police chief's wife. There was a moral there she hoped Phil had absorbed: not to go looking for greener grass when you had it in your own back yard.
It was almost a letdown to walk out into the street and see the drab panorama of Clark Street, which even neon lights didn't much improve. After a movie like that, Luana sometimes had the feeling she wanted to go right home and dream out a sequel to it, to continue the exhilarating mood it had stirred in her.
"Now where, honey?" she asked her fiance and escort, who of course had every right to dictate their itinerary. She was struck by his slight resemblance to Belmondo. At first glance, indeed, no one would ever take Phil Corcoran for a football star. True enough, he was six feet tall, weighed about 195, with an athlete's trim waist and hard, compact hips and sturdy chest. But his face was rather more that of a thinker's than a doer's: curly and unruly, dark-brown hair that always looked as if he'd been too impatient to comb it-or else as if some girl had run her fingers through it and no other girl had better try:-clear, blue eyes which had a piercing intensity or a good-natured twinkle depending on his mood; a classic Roman nose that had been made interestingly crooked as the result of having broken it during the first game of last season; a frank, humorous mouth and a firm, determined chin with an exceptionally deep cleft. He was neither a pretty boy or a bruiser just, very satisfyingly, her guy.
"How about my place, Luana? Mom and Dad are taking an overdue vacation in New York this weekend. And you've never seen our house," was Phil's answer.
Luana bit her lip, quickly reflecting. No, she'd never seen the huge Corcoran house in Oak Park's best residential section, though Phil, had once shown her a photo of it reproduced in Oak Leaves. Kenneth Corcoran was a patron of the arts, a contributor to Lyric Opera and the Chicago Symphony, and owned a Degas, a Manet and two Picassos. Helena Corcoran, his youthful looking, platinum-blonde wife, was a directress on the board of trustees of a childrens' hospital, a former amateur tennis champion, and her name frequently appeared in the society columns in connection with organizations prominent in civic charities such as the Chicago Boys' Club.
But it was just a bit too pat for Phil to want to take her to his house the very weekend his folks would be out of town, especially after his oblique reference to trial marriage the week before. Still, if she turned him down, he'd want to know why, and that might lead to words both of them would wish they hadn't said. Besides, she told herself, if she couldn't handle the situation with the fellow she was engaged to and intended to marry, then neither of them had very much character. And if he didn't, it was high time she found out before they went any further into an emotional relationship.
"Okay," she tried to keep her voice light. "You're right, I haven't. Are those famous paintings on display?"
"In the library, sure, Luana. The whole house is quite a place. Sometimes I think it's like a mausoleum, and it's for sure too big for just the three of us, the cook and the chauffeur who doubles as butler when Mom and Dad throw a shindig for their friends. They live in, though."
That much was reassuring. With domestics around the house, even unseen, there'd be a degree of chaperoning.
"A chauffeur?" she quipped. "I should think with your dad the head of a big dealership, the last thing he'd need would be somebody to drive for him."
"Oh, Dad doesn't use Claude hardly at all. It's Mom who can't drive. Besides, Claude was a war buddy of Dad's-saved his life, matter-of-fact, in the Remagen push. So Dad paid his debt by giving Claude a job for life. Tried to make a car salesman out of him, but Claude was a flop. So when Dad bought this place, he hired Claude as a kind of jack of all trades. Does a little gardening, some maintenance-makes himself useful. A swell guy. Okay, let's go see the house. And you can meet Claude and Dora-she's the cook."
"I'd like to," Luana said, her face lightening. When Phil talked this way, everything was on the up and up. One of the many things she liked about him was his family loyalty. He was openly an admirer of his father, without being saccharine about it. And from the quick insight into Kenneth Corcoran's character which Phil had just given her about the way a place had been made for a wartime buddy, she had even more respect for Phil's father. She'd actually only met Kenneth and Helena Corcoran twice since Phil had started dating her. Once, she'd gone to the Art Institute to look at a Manet exhibition and she'd recognized them from their pictures; the second time had been three months ago, when Phil had taken her to hear Turandot and his parents had been in the lobby during intermission. She'd been formally presented to them then. They had their own box as contributors, while Phil had bought first floor seats for the two of them.
"Feels like rain or maybe sleet," Phil said, glancing up at the heavy, starless sky.
"It does, at that. That's a biting wind, too."
"They don't call Chicago the Windy City for nothing, Luana," Phil chuckled as he got behind the wheel. "But it's a great old town, and I wouldn't want to try to sell cars anywhere else. Well, here we go."
The Cocoran house on Kenilworth Avenue was really imposing. On a corner lot, two stories, of red brick with the stately Colonial portico formed by white columns over the doorway with its three marble steps led to by a newly cemented walk, it proclaimed fastidious good taste and wealth. One look at it, Luana thought, and a gold digger on the make for a guy like Phil Corcoran would latch onto him for keeps, no matter what it took.
There was also an ornate garage, atop which Luana could see curtained windows, indicating living quarters. She mentioned this as Phil parked the car. "Oh, sure," he said, "that's where Claude lives. Dora has a room near the kitchen on the first floor."
The lights were out. Luana concluded that either the chauffeur was out on the town or asleep. In either case, he would hardly be present as a chaperon, and yet Phil had said she would be able to meet him and the cook. She frowned.
"Come on, honey, I'll give you an escorted tour," he took her arm, looking at her with an eager smile. He was really such a swell guy, Luana reminded herself, you couldn't get mad at him. And maybe he hadn't really misrepresented. Anyway, she was here, and it was a long way from home and midnight, and there wasn't much else she could do except go along with him. After all, she was a big girl now and she'd agreed that she wanted to see his house. She knew darn well they were going to neck. They had done it before they'd got engaged last Friday, and a fellow expected it even more from his best girl when they got engaged.
Phil proudly unlocked the front door after handing her up the marble steps with as much gallantry as any girl could ask. Another thing she liked about him was his good manners, which seemed to be instinctive. He didn't seem to try to go out of his way to make an impression; it just came naturally. Undoubtedly, a lot of the girls at college would think him a square for observing such niceties as coming around the car and opening the door for her to get out and walking with her on the curb side of the street, but she liked him for it. And for once she had to agree with her mother, who invariably and mournfully proclaimed that good manners were a forgotten relic of the past and that everybody was boorish and selfish these days. When she was with Phil, she felt extremely feminine, and it was a nice feeling.
It was really a magnificent house, with a huge fireplace and marble mantelpiece in the living room. The library, with its cherry wood secretary in one corner and wall-to-wall bookshelves on two sides, housed the pantings she'd read about. There was an elaborate dining room, with a table that easily served sixteen, two small bathrooms down the hall, a guest room and a kitchen that would have been the envy of the most demanding and gadget-minded homemaker. Right off the kitchen was a built-in back porch which looked out onto a huge yard and garden.
"I see what you mean when you said it was a mausoleum. It's huge. But it's beautiful," she exclaimed as they came back into the kitchen. Phil had demonstrated that by turning a switch on the back porch, outdoor lights fixed along the six-foot-high wire fence and in several of the ornamental trees at the back of the yard could almost turn night into day. That was in case of prowlers, he'd explained. Two weeks ago their next door neighbors, the Courtnays, had had their house ransacked by a gang of teen-agers and when he'd been awakened by the noise they made and went out to the back porch to turn on the lights, they'd beat it.
"Oh, sure, it's that and all, and it's big enough. If we got married, Luana, we could live on the second floor-there's an extra master bedroom there I want to show you. Only I'd like to have my own place."
"So would I, Phil."
He turned to her with that boyish grin of his, put his hands on her slim waist and kissed her gently on the mouth. Her pulses quickened. Even if he was only two years her senior, he had a smooth approach, all right. If she hadn't known him better, she would have suspected that he had got it from plenty of practise with other girls. Only, she knew better. In their three years of dating, they'd come to know each other's habits and mannerisms pretty well, and they'd been particularly open and aboveboard with each other. He'd had a few dates with Terry Lockwell and Pat Prentice the first year they'd gone together, but from then on she'd been his only girl, just as he'd been her only guy. Just the same, there weren't many in school like Phil, not from the reports her sorority sisters perennially gave her about their dates. Most of the fellows started as smoothies, then stepped on the gas and tried to score as fast as they could. Phil had always been gentle and considerate with her, even when they necked. All she'd ever had to do was frown or shake her head when he got a bit too daring, and he'd stop right away.
"You're sweet," she told him with a pretty moue. "Only don't let it go to your head. I'll bet all your girls tell you that."
"You're right. They do."
"So that's the way it is!" She pretended to be jealous, turning her back on him and folding her arms. She tried to hide her smile as he eased the heavy cloth coat off her shoulders, bent his head and kissed her nape. It sent pleasant shivers up and down her spine.
"Uh-huh," he murmured, his lips still brushing that sensitive spot, "that's the way it is. You're all my girls, all of them wrapped up into one gorgeous package."
"That sounds more like a major in advanced wolfing than a star football tackle, Phil Corcoma," she giggled, squirming as his lips began to move all over her slim neck, then nuzzled at an ear. She was thinking that Bessie must have been operating on radar when she suggested this new style to expose the neck and make the ears look especially saucy. Phil certainly seemed to go for it. And his next remark confirmed the value of her investment at the beauty shop.
"Hey, that's a new hairdo, isn't it?"
"You're a mighty observing male for a football star, I'll give you credit."
"Is that all you'll give me, the back of your neck? I'm used to having my girls smooch back."
"Oh, you are, are you?" she whirled, hands on hips. He took that opportunity to remove the cloth coat and pretty cloche hat and deposit them on the kitchen table. "That's a lot better," he breathed, his eyes roaming her enticing figure.
"What's a lot better?"
"I like that dress, and what's in it."
"Hm. I don't know exactly how to take that."
"As a compliment, natch. No, honest, Luana, that's a snazzy dress. Looks like velvet. And red's your color, all right."
She had to agree with him, and once again, she was secretly pleased with him. The average collegiate boy friend, from what all her sisters at Delta Kappa Phi told her, didn't notice whether you'd changed your hairstyle or fingernail polish and couldn't care less what sort of clothes you were wearing, their major aim being to remove them, not to praise them. And she was glad he liked the dress. She'd got it at Field's Monday, just for their date tonight. It was a one-piece affair, with bohemian blouse on over the straight, A-line skirt, with three big, jeweled buttons down the middle of the blouse. It was styled so that the blouse looked detachable but wasn't, and it had a double collar of red with shorter white over-top. The touch of white was very vivid against the overall ruby-red color.
"Take off your specs, honey."
"Here? Why?"
"I want to kiss you good and hard, and they'll get in the way, that's why."
"Is that for the dress, or my new hairdo-or just for me?"
"For all three."
"In that case, all right." She took off the harlequin glasses, laid them down on the sink and smilingly looked up at him. Phil took her in his arms and kissed her hard on the mouth, his hands roaming her slim back, pressing her tightly against him. He'd taken off his hat, but still had his coat on. His breath was quick and erratic, and the fierce, hard, bruising contact of his mouth made her quiver and respond instinctively. Her arms went up round his neck and she kissed back with fervor.
"That's more like it," he murmured huskily, his eyes intent on her flushed face.
"I'm glad you approve. I was wondering if I'd lost my appeal."
"Oh? Why?"
"For once, you didn't hold hands in the movie. You were too busy eating popcorn and ogling Claudia Cardinale in that low-cut smock she had on. I'm not in her league, I'm afraid:"
"I like you better anyhow. And in a low-cut smock you'd be just as terrific."
"That deserves a kiss."
"I thought so, too," he chuckled as he held her close again and their mouths met. "Phil."
"Huh?"
"Wasn't I supposed to meet Dora and Claude?"
"Oh. Sure. Only it's awful late, and Dora's asleep. That guest room door was closed, you noticed. That's her room. Mom and Dad are up on the second floor, and I'm at the end of the hall."
"What about Claude?"
"I-I guess I forgot. This is his Friday out. He gets every other Friday."
She eyed him steadily. "So you really didn't bring me out here to meet Dora and Claude, did you, Phil?"
"Aw, Luana. Don't be that way."
"What way, Phil? We've known each other for three years, and by now we ought to be able to say what we mean. What you really wanted to do was bring me out here because you knew nobody'd be home, and you figured on having a party-am I right?"
He turned a brick red and looked down at the floor. His forehead was wrinkled and he had the fair makings of a scowl, just like a little boy crossed in getting his way. Phil, was absolutely transparent. And for her part, that was much easier than if he'd been the Machievellian type. You usually knew exactly where you stood with someone like Phil.
"I'm not mad, Phil," she said softly. "We're not kids and we're engaged and after what you said last week, I get the general idea. Only the answer's no, darling."
"No what? Hey, you're going off on a tangent. I haven't even said anything," he protested, giving her that wide-eyed look she knew so well, one of his invariable mannerisms whenever he was accused of something of which he believed himself to be utterly innocent.
"You didn't have to say anything, honey. I told you I was a big girl now. And you led up to this last week when you started giving me that talk about trial marriage. Level with me, Phil honey-you really want to have an affair with me, don't you?"
He scowled again, uneasily shuffled his feet, then suddenly grabbed her by the elbows and hauled her up against him, his fingers biting into her flesh. "Yes, if you want to know, Luana, that's exactly what I want. Now don't get sore-I don't just want to go to bed with you. You know I'm going to marry you. But if we can't get married for a year or so, are you going to hold me off all the time? That's what I want to know."
"I always want you to be frank with me, darling. That way, there can't be any misunderstanding."
"Don't hand me a line or a lecture, Luana. Is it yes or no? And I think after three years, you know me well enough to know I'm not just handing you a fast order of bull to get you to give. Don't you think a guy that's known you all that time, and that you're engaged to, has a right to make love to his girl?"
"That sounds sort of dictatorial, honey. Please let go. You're hurting my arms."
"Okay," he muttered sulkily, stepping back and regarding her with a frustrated look. "So what's the answer?"
"Phil you know I love you and I want to marry you, with all that means-kids and the fun of being to ourselves and discovering each other. Only I think that now would be wrong to start something we mightn't be able to finish."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Luana tilted back her head with a sort of indignant defiance, her cheeks coloring, and she retorted, "It means exactly what I said, Phil. You know that if I let you have me, you'd want to do it again and keep it up till we got married. And maybe then something would happen and we wouldn't get married. Do you think that'd be fair to either of us?"
"Nothing's going to happen. I'm not that kind of a guy, and you know that."
She nodded. "I know you're not a chaser, darling, and that's one reason I love you so much. And I know it's not as if I were a teenager in high school. I'm old enough, and there are plenty of girls at school who've already had affairs. And I'm not a prude either, no matter what you think."
"What's bugging you then, Luana? If it's getting pregnant, I know the score-there's pills and-"
"Don't you think I know about such things, Phil darling? That's not the question, being safe."
"Well, what is it then? Maybe you don't have the same yen for me I have for you-well, if that's the case, we might as well find that out before we get married."
"And that sounds like a typical male line, if I ever heard one. You don't have to worry about my yen, as you call it. We've done some necking on our dates, as I recall, and I wasn't exactly standoffish, if you'll remember."
He made a grimace. "That's not what I mean. That's not the point-"
"Oh, but it is, Phil. Look-you're always quoting books to me, just like you told me about that companionate trial marriage thing. So I read it. And I'll tell you something I read in another book. And it says that sexual relationships bring harmony and fulfillment to both partners. It also says that if a girl starts sex with a man she loves and loves him, she expects and wants long-lasting fulfillment. Girls aren't like men, always wanting a one-night stand, Phil. That's why I say no right now. We'd both be starting something we couldn't continue-"
"You're just afraid-"
"And that's not true either!" she flashed angrily. "You just want your own way and you won't listen to reason from anybody else who's as concerned about it as you are. Do you honestly think that if I want to be with you, just once, as you put it, to show you I could make you happy, you'd be content to stop there and wait? Of course you wouldn't, and I wouldn't either. But I don't intend to have a long, secret affair and have to hide our love from our folks. That's why I won't start it now."
"Damn it, I'll make you want it, Luana," he exclaimed hoarsely. Quickly stooping, he caught her up in his arms and carried her out of the kitchen, back through the house, up the stairs and down the hall to his room. Luana didn't struggle or protest. She lay passively in his grasp, looking calmly up at him. "Is this what you really want?" she asked as he shoved open the door with his foot and promptly laid her down on his bed.
He didn't answer as he tugged off his overcoat, then his suit coat and tie, stooped down and untied and removed his shoes. Then he pulled off his shirt, flung it down on the chair near the door and turned to the door, locking it.
"Are you going to take your clothes off or do you want me to do it for you, Luana?" His voice was heavy and inflexible as he approached the bed.
"Neither one. You're being silly, like a child, Phil, and it's not at all becoming."
"A child, huh? I'll show you!" He flung himself down on the bed beside her, turned and pulled her to him, his mouth crushing hers, his right hand thrusting down to open the three buttons, of the soft, red blouse, then insert his rough fingers into one of the bra-cups, squeezing and fondling her naked breast. Luana closed her eyes and waited, lying inert against him.
She winced at the angry harshness of his fingers against her breast, and caught her breath when his other hand, pinned between them, delved to the hem of the cotton velvet skirt and groped up under it and the slip. Her legs tightened as she felt his fingers surge along her thigh, onto the bare skin above the stocking top, thence to stroke the soft, but quite dry cunt, through her panties.
"I hope you're enjoying yourself," she said icily, as he stopped the kiss enough to stare down hungrily at her.
It was like a douse of cold water. Red-faced, Phil Corcoran got down from the bed and unlocked the door. His lips tight and thinned, he put on his shirt and suit coat. "I'll take you home. Maybe we better not see each other for a while, at least till we both cool off."
"Maybe we better not," she agreed. She didn't tell him, as she swung her legs down from the bed, how close she had been to letting him go ahead. The touch of his fingers on her pussy had stirred her.
CHAPTER TWO
DON STILL DOING A SLOW BURN OVER HIS FATHER'S rebuke, hadn't been able to sleep. He'd tackled his geometry for an hour or so, enough to finish the assignment due Monday. Then he'd taken a shower and gone to bed. Even though he knew he ought to get a good night's sleep so he'd be alert and on the ball at the cleaner's shop tomorrow afternoon, he just couldn't drop off. He kept hearing what his dad had said and he found himself thinking up answers he ought to have given. For once, he should have spoken up and let them know he wasn't going to be pushed around and play second fiddle to Big Sister anymore. Besides, from all he'd read in history and mythology and sociology, the son was the most important person in the family. He represented the future. Girls were all right, but they got married and didn't carry on the family name. Yet here he was, being told off like a little kid all because maybe his grades hadn't been so sensational the last term or two. So what? If he really wanted to, he could be valedictorian. And even when he'd had those good grades, it hadn't made much difference. Luana still hogged the spotlight and got all the attention. Well, he was darn good and sick of it.
He got out of bed and groped his way to his own dresser and pulled open the bottom drawer where his corduroy trousers and sweat shirts were kept. Squatting down, he took out the last pair of trousers in the pile, felt for the left-hand pocket, and grinned. The pack was still there. Well, if Luana thought she had a secret with her diary, she was all wet. But he was the one who really had a secret; neither Dad nor Mom had ever guessed that he smoked. Dad had told him he couldn't till he was at least eighteen and ready for college. He tiptoed over to the window and carefully pushed it up a few inches. That way, the smoke would blow out and not smell up the room when Mom came in to clean, as she usually did about noon Saturdays.
He took out a cigarette, lit it, stuffed the pack back in the trousers pocket along with the packet of matches. Then he moved the chair from his table over to the window and sat down with a sigh of content. He inhaled luxuriously and blew out a wreath of smoke. Joe'd be proud of him. Joe had taught him how to smoke and told him a guy had to show his independence as early as he could to keep from getting pushed around. Of course, Joe's situation was different from his. Joe's parents had busted up and both of them had left the country and gotten married to other partners and left Joe with a couple of old-maid aunts. And they'd left enough dough with the aunts to see Joe through college, so he had it made.
The cigarette tasted especially good. Maybe it was because he'd been feeling so low about Dad's bawling him out, and here he was doing something Dad didn't know about. Hey, there was a car coming down the street looked like Phil Corcoran's convertible. Sure enough, it was. The Little Princess was coming home in style, and well after two in the morning. But nobody would give her hell about that. She was a privileged character. Just let him stay out that late and there'd be sermons and ultimatums all over the place.
Crushing out the cigarette and throwing the stub out of the window, he cautiously peered out. The car door opened and Luana got out. She didn't even turn back to look at Phil, but kept walking straight to the house. And then the car started up and shot down the street as if Phil were in a helluva hurry to get back home. Hm. They must have had a quarrel. Otherwise they'd have been staying in the car and smooching like all get out. Now this might get to be interesting. Maybe he'd better take a looksee and find out what he could.
He heard the front door close, and hurried to push the chair up against the dresser. Then he climbed onto the top and crouched down. Muscular twinges ran up and down his thighs, and his heart was pounding. He could feel beads of sweat gathering in his armpits.
He heard her footsteps coming down the hall. She was walking quickly and not trying to tiptoe in, not that she had to, with the leeway Mom and Dad gave her. But it was a sign she had something on her mind. She'd probably put it down in that diary of hers. He was willing to bet it would be a specially juicy episode, but he might have to wait till Monday to read it. He usually got home from school forty-five minutes before she did, because Kenmore High was only four blocks from the house, while McDougal College was out on Addison.
There went the light switch. She was mad, all right. She had a frown as black as a storm cloud on that snooty face of hers. And there was something else. The top button on that slinky red dress of hers was torn off. It didn't take a mental giant to figure out what had happened on their date tonight. Phil had probably tried to score and the Little Princess wasn't having any. And the big football hero had torn her dress and she'd got mad at him and had him bring her home pronto. And that's why they hadn't parked for an hour and necked like crazy. Maybe, for all he knew, Phil was S.O.L. from now on.
Luana was facing her mirror now, her back to him. But he could see her reflection in the mirror by squinting hard. And it looked as if she were about ready to cry. She'd put a hand up to the place where the button had been, and then she bent her head and her shoulders shook. Yep, she was bawling, no two ways about it. And he'd been right about his guess. Phil had tried to make the grade and been shot down in flames.
She was taking off her dress now, going into the closet to hang it up, and then came back in her slip. Again she looked into the mirror. Then she pulled open the drawer and took out her diary, walked over to the armchair, sat down in it and turned to the little round walnut table which was beside it. She began to write, and Don smirked with pleased anticipation. She was still frowning and her cheeks looked wet and he was willing to bet his next month's pay from the cleaner's that she had really broken up with Phil and was writing down all the lurid details. He hoped she'd go into them with no holds barred. He got a big kick out of reading about sex the way his sister experienced it. It was such a big production with her. He didn't know why fellows got themselves involved, really. You could get satisfaction enough just by thinking about it or talking about it with a couple of guys in the know like Joe and Eddie. And if you got excited, they knew ways to ease the tension. Exciting ways that didn't run the risk of getting you a dose from some free-and-easy female. You could even have fun by yourself without nobody's ever finding out.
Boy, Luana was practically filling up the diary. She'd been writing almost fifteen minutes, and she still had a mad on. You could tell from the way her mouth tightened up and the hard, angry way she was staring down at the diary. He wouldn't want to be in Phil's shoes right now. From the looks of things, Phil was going to have to find himself another girl. And that was all right with him. Because if Luana had broken up with Phil, she wouldn't go around the house acting as if life were one big bowl of cherries. And maybe she'd be so worried about the breakup that she'd act snippy or disrespectful to Mom and Dad. Then they'd be down on her for a change instead of always on him. What he'd really like to see would be Luana told off-even better, spanked just like a naughty kid for something she did. He'd give anything to see that, even the chance of getting those new speakers. And maybe he could help the cause along and get her into trouble so she would fall down off that pedestal of hers.
A warm, tingling excitement stirred him at the thought. He felt as if his toes had gone to sleep, hunched down as he was in this squatting position. Holding his breath, he got down onto his knees, putting his palms up against the wall to steady himself. The chest didn't squeak. He didn't want her to know he was still up. The good thing about this long crack in the wall was that if she had her light on in the next room, he didn't need a light in his, because there was just the slim chance that someday she might catch a glint of light from his room and maybe put two and two together. And he never yet had forgotten to put the chair back in place so that when Mom cleaned up, she wouldn't see it pulled up against the chest and maybe figure out why he needed a chair there.
There, now. She was done. She flung down the ballpoint and got up and put the diary away, slammed the drawer shut. Then she tugged off her slip, and went into the bathroom. Don began to shiver. His fingers were trembling as they pressed hard against the wall.
He'd forgotten to close his window, and the cold February air was pouring in. He could feel it on his bare feet, and even through the thin pajamas. And yet he felt strangely warm. The contrast was really exciting.
Now she was coming out of the bathroom-she was naked, in her slippers. She'd taken off her glasses, and now he could see that she'd been crying. Her eyes were red and swollen. Boy, she had a shape. He couldn't blame Phil for wanting to score. Any guy who went for girls would be crazy for a dish like Luana.
Now she was standing in front of her dresser again, looking at herself in the mirror. Her hands were smoothing her sides and hips. Unconsciously, Don eased his right hand down from the wall and slipped it to his pajama trousers. The warm feeling in his loins had become oppressing. A sickening throbbing in his temples now merged with the quickened pounding of his heart. The air seemed to have grown colder, yet it did nothing to alleviate the hot, heavy sensation which had taken furious hold of him.
She opened a drawer and took out a yellow nightie, then drew it over her head, smoothed it down over her body. As she moved to the door to flick off the light switch, Don followed her with narrowed shining eyes. The nightie was sheer and through it he could see the shadow of her cunt, and in back, the sinuous cleft between the cheeks of her ass. His fingers tautened and quickened on his cock, and as the light went out, his head fell back and he ground his teeth to hold back his hoarse cry of agonized delight.
CHAPTER THREE
TWO WEEKS HAD PASSED SINCE THAT EVENTFUL FRI day. Phil had phoned Luana a few evenings later to apologize. She had told him she'd forgotten about what had happened but she still thought it would be a good idea if they let a few weeks go by before their next date. Besides, if she wanted to be graduated with good marks this June, she'd have to concentrate on school work for a while. And then there was the "Mad March Midnight" frolic of Delta Kappa Phi. As vice president of the sorority, she had to make plans for the initiation of the new pledges.
Delta Kappa Phi was headed by Elinor Darby, twenty-one-year-old, brown-haired autocrat who was engaged to Cash Hanson. Cash, an easy-going, red-haired, gangling stalwart of the McDougal basketball team, had just graduated and was working as a law clerk in his father's office. In the fall, he was slated to go to Harvard Law School and in due time would eventually join his father's firm as a junior law clerk, assuming he passed the bar exam. There wasn't any question that he would, for Cash was an all-A student and his placid, friendly nature camouflaged a quick, brilliant mind.
Elinor Darby's father was the president of a big plastics company whose legal business was handled by Cash's father. Elinor and Cash had been dating since early high school and it was a foregone conclusion they'd be married in the next few years, even before Cash finished law school. Both families had money, were on the friendliest of terms, and heartily approved of the match. Luana happened to know, however, that Elinor wasn't exactly faithful to Cash. The brunette sorority prexy, discreet though she always was, liked sex, and had had at least two affairs-of which Cash knew nothing.
"The Mad March Midnight" provided Elinor with an ideal opportunity to demonstrate her authority as head of the sorority and also to vent the somewhat sadistic quirk of her haughty nature on those girls who she sensed might prove rivals to her on campus. Carla Dornell was one of these, and Carla, as a new pledge, was to be initiated on the 15th of March, the annual date set by Delta Kappa Phi for its hell week.
Most of the sororities staged hell week twice a year, about three weeks after the fall semester opened and again about the same time after the spring quarter began. The college authorities had officially frowned on hazing, and so Elinor, upon being elected president last June, proposed that Delta Kappa Phi limit its welcoming of new sisters to once a year. "But we'll make that week one they'll never forget. And besides, girls," she had explained, "that way we can take in the sophomores and junior transfers too, and put them through the mill just as if they were frosh. It'll be lots more fun all around." And the vote had sustained her proposal by nearly two to one.
Of course, the elaborate rituals Elinor was dreaming up couldn't very well be staged in the sorority house. First of all, you had the house mother around to cope with, and elderly Mrs. Jessica Duncan frowned on even a bawdy joke. So Elinor had persuaded her widowed father, who could deny her nothing, to take his intended spring vacation to New York a little earlier than usual, thus leaving the big Darby house in Forest Park at her disposal. It had a huge cellar which she planned to convert into an initiation center. And Luana and Jane Maxwell, the tall, black-haired, twenty-two-year-old secretary of Delta Kappa Phi, were to help her get things ready.
A dozen girls were on the list as pledges. Eight of them were freshmen, two were sophomores, one a junior who had transferred from a college in Memphis, and last, but far from least in Elinor's plans, was Carla Dornell.
Carla, just turned eighteen, was a willowy coppery-haired green-eyed sexpot. Her lissome curves were modeled over a five-foot-six-inch frame in a way that turned the fellows' eyes unerringly in her direction and had already produced some of the shrillest wolf whistles ever heard on McDougal's staid, old campus. Carla had entered McDougal last September, having just moved into Chicago with her mature and sophisticated aunt from Louisville. Her parents had died in a particularly sordid scandal which had made headlines in the Louisville press. Carla's father had come home early one day from his job as sales manager of a whiskey firm and found his wife in the arms of their negro chauffeur. He had shot and killed them both, then turned the gun on himself. Carla's mother's sister, Madge, a divorcee of thirty-six, had been named guardian and executor for the young girl. Carla's father's will had stipulated that in the event of his and his wife's death, Carla was to receive her inheritance when she became twenty-one. So Carla was to be dependent on her aunt for three years, a fact which exasperated her.
For Carla Dornell had inherited her mother's wild blood. Though still a virgin, she was only such by force of circumstance. She had already devoured all the pornography she could find in some of Louisville's more esoteric bookshops, whose owners, knowing her father's reputation and wealth, looked the other way when it came to selling to a minor so long as she had the cash to pay for libidinous literature. She had necked and petted her way through high school. And if her father's chauffeur had not been slain for his illicit affair with her mother, she would undoubtedly have been initiated into the exciting pleasures about which she had so avidly read-he had already promised her a rendezvous in a cheap little hotel on the other side of town just before his violent death.
But if she had not as yet achieved the fulfillment she sought from the opposite sex, Carla Dornell had already tasted the perverse delights to be obtained from her own sister sex. In one of her surreptitious visits to a bookstore which provided her with scabrously illustrated and lasciviously written books, she had met a stunningly handsome, golden-haired woman of about twenty-seven, named Dolly Janes. Dolly had been a friend of the bookshop owner and had been introduced to her. A week later, Dolly phoned Carla and invited her to dinner and a movie. Carla's parents were out for the evening and Aunt Madge was dating a married man from out of town whom she had known intimately before his marriage. So Carla eagerly accepted Dolly's invitation, was duly dined and entertained, then driven to Dolly's apartment where, after a glass of wine and spicy conversation on the unusual phases of erotica, the blonde seduced her and taught her the lovemaking of Lesbos.
When the tragedy broke and Carla found that Aunt Madge wanted to move to Chicago, she communicated her disappointment to her beautiful Sapphic lover. But Dolly told her not to be too heartbroken; there was a fair chance they would meet again in the Windy City. And then Dolly explained something of her background. She had been a would-be movie starlet who had gone out to the West Coast six years ago, made the usual rounds of the casting studios, and lost her virginity as well as her paltry capital to an assistant producer who had given her nothing more than a few extra bits. Then she had become a photographers' model and a waitress in a swanky Beverly Hills restaurant where she had made contacts. And she had discovered that women were attracted to her and were willing to pay her handsomely for a night of love. She found the experience less taxing than consorting with men and also emotionally more satisfying. And she had come back to Louisville to recruit three of her best girl friends from high school into the racket. It flourished in the big cities all over the country, she told Carla. She, Edna and Bonnie and Dale could book dates with society women whenever they wanted to. Her little black book was worth a fortune, and she knew how to use it. And so, if Carla went on to Chicago, they were sure to meet again, because she and her girl friends had the Windy City on their intinerary within the next year.
Dolly and her trio of Lesbian girl friends had another racket which was unusually lucrative. Two of the girls, Dale and Bonnie, though in their mid-twenties, could be taken for teen-agers when they did their hair a certain way and wore adolescent-styled clothes. Dale and Bonnie would date fellows they had cased in advance and knew to be well-heeled; then, at the crucial moment, cry rape and profess to be under eighteen. They had worked this stunt in New York a couple of times and made a real killing. And the two young women had a special zest for this effective blackmail; both of them were confirmed man-haters and sadists as a result of their own high-school experiences. A group of boys had taken them out in a jalopy and gangbanged them.
Carla didn't know about this phase of Dolly's money-making activities. But she was still infatuated with her golden-haired tutor and longed to be reunited with her. She took readily to the change of scenery, for Chicago was much bigger than Louisville and there was lots more action going on all the time. Aunt Madge, too, welcomed the change. There would be more good-looking men to date and have fun with. And there was money in the bank so that she and her niece could live high on the hog. Of course, she didn't dare touch Carla's share, but there was still enough to let her enjoy life without having to work.
So Carla had arrived on the McDougal campus with an education far ahead of that of the average freshman and a determination to accomplish that which fate had prevented back in Louisville: the eager donation of her virginity to a plausible and acceptable male candidate. And when she had met Cash Hanson at Denby's, having a milkshake by himself, she had immediately decided that he would fill the bill very nicely. She had promptly seated herself at the table, introduced herself and started to flirt with him.
Cash, though he hadn't as yet bedded his beautiful fiancee, was no prude. The fact was, he had had as much experience as Elinor and discreetly managed to keep it a secret from her, just as she had let him go on thinking she was saving herself for their wedding night. Cash's father had taken him on a trip to New York two summers before and paid a reputable and very beautiful call girl to make a man of him. And then, last summer, Cash had worked as a camp counselor in Wisconsin, and he'd met a twenty-seven-year-old bru nette counselor for a girls' camp coming into the little town for supplies, and they'd met a few times after that and had a thoroughly satisfying if short-lived affair, no strings attached.
However, on campus, Cash had his reputation to maintain. Any flirting with a freshman would be reported back to his fiancee, and there'd be hell to pay. Elinor was jealous, as he had had frequent occasion to discover. So he'd stalled Carla, at least till after he was graduated. Once he'd left campus, it was a different story.
The trouble was, Elinor had spies everywhere. And so, two weeks ago, when Carla had phoned him at home and brazenly asked him for a date, he'd agreed. They'd gone out to the South Side, where he figured nobody from McDougal would be hanging out. And they'd parked near the promonitory at 55th Street and done some hectic necking, which might have had the denouement for which Carla yearned if a police squad car hadn't driven up and turned the spotlight on them. And then, to make matters worse, when he'd driven her back home and had stopped for a red light at Granville Avenue, Maxine Fisher, a sorority sister and one of Elinor's best friends, had seen them in the car and reported this to Elinor. Last week she had given him a real tongue-lashing and told him he'd better quit playing around with freshmen if he expected to stay engaged to her. And since Carla had received a bid to join Delta Kappa Phi, Elinor Darby planned to make her initiation something of a personal vendetta, to teach her once and for all to stay away from her guy.
Carla wasn't entirely ignorant to the state of affairs. Elise Denton, a nineteen-year-old, sandy-haired sophomore who had become a friend of the redhead had told her that Cash Hanson was decidedly off bounds. But after having spent a full semester at McDougal without having had the sexual adventure which had become al most an obsession with her, the willowy redhead was frankly bored. Aunt Madge had all of a sudden become old-maidish, making her study and laying down the law about no dates on school nights. And when she'd wanted to buy a whole new outfit that she'd seen at Bonwit Teller, Aunt Madge had informed her that just because she had a trust fund didn't mean she could go off the deep end; that she'd just have to wait till she was twenty-one, as the will said, and would have to make do with the few new things Aunt Madge felt she ought to have and which would come out of Aunt Madge's own money. It made her feel beholden. And to be beholden and bored wasn't a feeling she enjoyed the least bit. So if Elinor Darby wanted to make things tough on her, it would be a welcome change.
It was to be a change that would alter a good many lives, but principally Luana's.
CHAPTER FOUR
IT WAS THE NIGHT BEFORE THE "MAD MARCH Midnight." Daniel Darby had left the day before on his pleasure-bent New York trip. Two of his warehouse employees had come out to the house the night before to do the necessary manual labor which would turn the spacious area of the basement into a suitable arena for the initiation ceremonies. Japanese shoji screens had been used to section off part of the basement to turn it into a kind of antechamber where the pledges would await their ordeals till summoned by their worthier sisters.
Elinor was readying herself for a date with Cash, and Suzanne was helping her. Suzanne Mercier was a piquantly svelte Parisian, about twenty-six, with jetblack curls styled in a chic flip-do, a sophisticatedly oval-shaped face with large coal-black eyes and prodigiously thick, curly lashes; a dainty button of a nose and a languid, ripe rosebud of a mouth. In her black satin dress with maid's lace-trimmed apron and cap, gunmetal-gray nylons and smart tapering-heeled black leather pumps, she was absolutely mouth-watering. Daniel Darby had engaged her as maid, and her husband, suave, tall, brown-haired Henri, some four years older, as chauffeur, along with a plump, genial flaxen-haired German cook named Gretchen, to run the household after his wife's untimely death. And Suzanne and Elinor had become great friends. Elinor had studied French in high school and continued it at McDougal, so that she and the brunette Parisian could gossip to their hearts' content about intimate matters without being understood by any trespasser.
Suzanne was worldly wise, as regards attire, morals and matters of the heart. There were times when Elinor had asked for and taken her advice, and tonight was just such an occasion.
"Dites moi done, Suzanne," Elinor leaned forward toward her boudoir table-mirror to assure the deft touch of mascara to her long lashes, "If you had un bel ami you were fond of and had gone with for a long time, and some younger girl started to flirt with him, what would you do?"
Suzanne regarded her young mistress with a mocking smile, though her sparkling eyes definitely admired the entrancing picture Elinor made in her beige satin slip-which was no smoother than the pale, milky skin of her bare, beautifully rounded arms and shoulders. She put a tentative hand out, ostensibly to tuck back into place a wayward, light-brown ringlet which had strayed down to Elinor's soft nape, her eyes studying the elegantly patrician planes of the brunette's deeply columned, supple back. "Ticns," she at last replied, "I would scratch her eyes out, moi."
"Well, I can't exactly do that, Suzanne, more's the pity," Elinor retorted. "But tomorrow night that little vixen's coming up for initiation into my sorority. And I want to think of something really drastic that'll teach her a good lesson to keep her panted claws off my guy once and for all."
She bent to the mirror again, large, wide-spaced hazel eyes narrowing as she studied the effect of the tangerine lipstick she had begun to apply to the curves of a full, sensually insolent mouth. Her delicately thin nostrils, the imperious wings of a finely chiseled, aquiline nose, flared and shrank in a way that intimated a mercurial temperament. The mirror gave back the portrait of an arrogant coquette in provocative deshabille, with her high-set cheekbones and the broadly arching forehead. Even the pageboy coiffure was severely styled, to give her a maturity beyond her age. The slip's bodice was low-cut, enough to show the outline of the snug, strapless, white-satin bra which tightly hugged her two narrowly spaced upstanding round globes. Her supple waist, trimly narrowed as if by a rigorous corset, flared into sleek, rounded hips poised above long, gracefully slender thighs. It was no wonder Suzanne's eyes were brazenly applauding.
"Eh bien, in that case, Ma'am'selle Elinor," the pert French maid contributed, "I would give her une belle lessee."
"Oh, she's going to get paddled, never fear. All the pledges do, Suzanne. No, I want something really mean. She's much too uppity for a freshie, and I know she's been told whose property Cash is, but she keeps after him. Maxine Fisher saw them out in Cash's car last week. She's boy-crazy, that's all she is, the little tramp."
"Apres la guerre, Ma'am'selle, they used to shave the heads of the poulis who collaborated with les sales Boches, and sometimes use un fer re chaujje on them," Suzanne declared with relish, watching her mistress' haughty face for a sign of approval.
"A branding iron-hmm, that's not a bad idea. Of course I'd use ice, but we could have a real iron heating in the fire, just to scare her," Elinor mused. "Shaving her hair off would be a wonderful idea, but I'm afraid the dean of woman would clamp down on the sorority if I ever pulled a stunt like that." Suzanne suddenly giggled.
"Qu'as tu done?" Elinor demanded, turning round to look at the saucy brunette.
"I had just thought of something. But no, e'est trop vicieuse, Ma'am'seUe!"
"Let's hear it I'm open to any suggestions regarding Carla Dornell, believe me, Suzanne. What's cooking in that Gallic brain of yours?"
Suzanne's giggle answered her again, and the maid shook her head. "Vraimcnt non, e'est trop audacieuse."
"I said out with it. You don't have to be afraid to make me blush, you know, Suzanne. Maybe I haven't been to Paris, but I'm hip to your fun and games. What did you think of?"
Suzanne bent to her mistress and whispered. Elinor's eyes widened, then her lips curled in a pensive, malicious smile. "Hey now, that sounds terrific. But where would I find a thing like that? Oh, but that would really pay her off-the man-crazy little poacher!"
"But I have one, Ma'am'selle Elinor. Mon epoux Henri, he wanted to play a joke on me and got one in a special shop in Paree. I think he will lend it to me for zees initiation, vraiment."
"Suzanne, you're a living doll. You tell him I want it for tomorrow night. I'll be extra-careful with it. Fact is-I'll use it myself."
Suzanne exploded into shoulder-quaking laughter, in which her young mistress joined. But it was mirth with the overtone of vindictive malice which echoed in the sorority president's voice....
CHAPTER FIVE
A NEAR-BLIZZARD HAD HIT CHICAGO THE DAY OF DELTA Kappa Phi's secret initiation, but it did nothing to change Elinor Darby's plans for Carla Dornell. To make certain that everybody would be on hand, the sorority sisters "invited" the dozen neophytes to come along to dinner at Elinor's house, thereby assuring themselves of the freshmen's presence in ample time for the start of the ceremonies. Gretchen grumbled loudly at the enormity of the task set her-serving dinner for not only the twelve pledges, but also her mistress and some twenty-five of the latter's sorority sisters. A twenty-dollar bill and Elinor's sweetest smile and cajoling plea sufficed to bring a smile to the plump German cook's face. She at once pressed Henri and Suzanne into service, as well as the neighborhood butcher and grocer. A tasty meat loaf with tomato sauce, salad, and her famous chocolate ambassador cake comprised a filling meal. The pledges were served in the Darby dining room, and oohed and ahhed over the monogrammed damask linen tablecloth and matching napkins, the superb Royal Dalton chinaware and sterling silver service, while Elinor and her colleagues ate at the huge rectangular table in the basement, which was later to serve as tribunal when they sat in judgment on the pledges.
"Now listen, girls," Elinor rapped a spoon on her coffee cup for attention. "We'll be starting the initiations about an hour from now, so there are a few things I want to get straight from the start. Each of these pledges is to have a big sister. That's a Delta Kappa Phi rule. Luana, you're to take Carla Dornell under your wing, savvy?"
"If you say so, sure, Elinor," the lovely, bespectacled blonde agreed. She had found classwork and preparations for tonight's festivities a welcome distraction from her differences with Phil.
"I do say so. She goes last, and she gets the works. I've saved up a special stunt for her, which just Luana and I are going to handle after everything else is over. None of the rest of you is to watch it. You can help the other pledges wash up and dress and maybe see them home, if any of you live near them. Is that understood?"
"What's the special stunt, Ellie?" Maxine Fisher ingratiatingly demanded. "You can tell me, I won't blab, honest-I sort of have a right to know-if I hadn't tipped you off that I saw Carla and Cash-"
"Can it, Maxine," Elinor cut her short tartly. "I'm grateful and all that, but you still don't get to watch. Only the two top officers of the sorority, and that means me and Luana. Anyway, I'll say this much when I finish with that man-chaser, she'll wish she'd never set eyes on Cash Hanson. Now then, let's check up on the props we're going to use. Mabel, did you start getting that curling iron ready for the branding stunt?"
Mabel Alston, an auburn-haired, buxom senior who would have been a leading contender in a freckle contest, giggled and nodded. "Oh, sure, Ellie. It works. I already plugged it in and it gets red-hot in no time at all."
"Good. And you brought down that long extension cord. We'll tie the girls to that narrow middle column right in the middle of the initiation ampitheatre proper-" Elinor was fond of impressing her associates with a high flown vocabulary-"and we'll hide the box with the dry ice right behind it. We'll take off their blindfolds and show them the iron heating, then blindfold 'em again and give 'em the ice, savvy?"
"What about the worms?" Diana Brant, an intellectual-looking blonde of twenty-two, wanted to know. Diana might have posed for a statue of her mythological namesake, but in her own private life, hardly emulated the goddess' chastity. At the moment, she was involved in two affairs at the same time and was already casting amorous eyes on a third, potential male suitor. She was also one of the most brilliant students of the sorority, so Elinor didn't lecture her too much so long as Diana handled her affairs with discretion. High scholastic averages were a good recommendation for a sorority's continued existence.
"Aw, that's grammar-school stuff, Di," Elinor retorted. "Gretchen helped me whip up a real foul witches' brew they've all got to drink. And hold down too, or they'll go through the mill again."
"What's in it?" asked Lucille Prindiviile, a tall, Languid-featured brunette who was womens' tennis singles champion of the college.
"Oysters, sauerkraut juice, Worcestershire sauce, stale beer and limburger cheese, mostly," Elinor replied. "And a few odds and ends Gretchen found."
"Won't it make 'em sick?" Lucille frowned. She was one of the humanitarians of the sorority, always chicken-hearted when it came to prolonged and arduous initiation pranks. Yet as a freshman herself, she had grimly and stoically taken the worst punishment the then proxy could dish out, and for nearly the same reason that Carla Dornell was destined to expiate tonight
"Of course it won't. Worst that'll happen, they'll up-chuck, and then they'll go through the mill again, which is what we want. Don't worry about the freshies they're stronger and more pushie and smarter than they were when you were a pledge, Lucille," Elinor teased, and Lucille flushed and looked down.
"Are we going to take them one at a time?" tall, black-haired Jane Maxwell, the DKPhi secretary, queried.
"Sure. It's more fun that way. What we'll do, Janie, is blindfold them and tie their wrists behind their backs before we bring 'em down here. Then well put 'em behind that one big screen off near the door, and the first girl due for initiation will be led into the screened off area to wait our call, get it?" Elinor explained. Jane nodded.
"Everybody got their paddles?" the brunette prexy drawled, and a chorus of "We sure have-all ready to let fly, Ellie!" greeted her.
"Okay, it's seven-thirty now. Let's have a cigarette and some more coffee, and then at eight, Luana and Jane-and you too, Lucille-go up and blindfold 'n tie the pledges. It'll do 'em good to wait-adds to the suspense. Don't bring 'em down till nearly eight-thirty. Then herd 'em all behind that big screen over at the entrance, savvy? Boy, are we gonna have fun tonight!" Elinor got excited and anticipated the autocratic privileges of her sorority rank in dealing out discomfort to neophytes, she lost her drawling, affected accent and a good deal of her elegant verbiage. But as she lit her cigarette now, her eyes narrowed with a glowing foretaste of the particular ordeal in store for just one particular member of the newcomers to appear before the sorority. And Luana, seeing it, couldn't help shivering.
"Wh-what do you s'pose they'll do to us?"
In the elegant dining room of the Darby house, twelve girls sat at the ornate table and most of them looked properly apprehensive. One of them didn't. It was Carla Dornell. She'd made up her mind that if it came to a showdown between herself and Elinor Darby, she'd take anything Elinor could dish out. It was worth it, just for the excitement of trying to flirt with that handsome specimen of college big-shot, Cash Hanson, and make his girl friend jealous. If she wanted to, she could probably take him away from Elinor Darby. Maybe she would, too. Anything would be better than just following the rules and being bored to tears. She had a sneaking notion Aunt Madge was starting up an affair with a guy and that was why Carla was being treated like a poor relation.
So she spoke up to answer Margaret Burnish's plaintive query. Margaret was a freshman too, just two months older than she was, with a heart-shaped face, big, timid blue eyes and a Cupid's-bow mouth and remarkably creamy skin for a sandy-haired blonde, and a perfectly gorgeous, ripe figure. But Margaret, unlike Carla, had no interest in any current male student on campus or alumnus either, for that matter; she wore the pin of a Michigan State junior and they were going to be married in June.
"Scare us, mostly, Margaret. That's what they always do at hazings. I know. In high school back in Louisville, we had a secret society-they weren't allowed in high school-and all they ever did was paddle you and maybe make you step in spaghetti and told you it was worms. I don't figure they'll have any worse stunts than that. And nobody ever got hurt from a little paddling. With the natural padding you've got, you wont even feel it."
Margaret blushed to her throat at this reference to her sumptuously curved ass. But Mavis Lorrimer, the gamin-featured, brunette junior who'd transferred from Memphis, shook her head. "I wish I could be as confident as you, Carla. Back at the college I went to in Memphis, the sorority girls were real mean. They paddled you raw and made you drink something positively vile and then for the rest of the term, you were assigned to a Big Sister and had to keep her room clean and run her errands, and if there was the least little thing she didn't like, you had to bend over and let her use the paddle on you all she wanted. It was fierce, I tell you!"
"Oh, gosh!" Genevieve Tremoyle, a petite eighteen-year-old freshman with an unruly shock of black hair and a breathtakingly opulent bosom that contrasted to her boyishly slim waist and compact hips, let out a scared gasp. "I hope they don't do that here. I'm awful when it comes to tidying up-Mom says so all the time." Her companions greeted this avowal with nervous giggles.
"Well, if we want to join, we have to prove we can take what they dish out, that's all," Carla declared.
"I sure wish they'd get started. They've just let us sit here and mope about it," Paula Dexter, a Junoesque, platinum-blonde sophomore, complained.
"That's to keep us in suspense, dummy," said her best friend, Nora Carmody, also a sophomore, a tall Amazon with long dark brown hair that fell to her shoulder blades.
"Will they take all of us together?" Alice Benson worried. Alice was another of the freshmen, of whom it was already being said by male connoisseurs on campus that she had a body by Fisher and a brain by Tinker Toys. Of medium height, she had a vapidly pretty face with deep dimples in her cheeks and chin, wide, innocent big brown eyes, a full, ripe mouth, pert snub nose, and wore her reddish-brown hair in a long pageboy. She wore tight pullover sweaters and tight, short skirts out of an unconscious narcissism about her voluptuous figure. Her grades were just enough to get by, and it was everybody's opinion that she was at McDougal to snare a husband as quickly as possible, a fact which Alice's gregarious and indiscriminate dating habits did nothing to discourage.
"My guess is not," Brenda Underwood, another freshman, but the exact antithesis of Alice, spoke up. Not quite eighteen, she had been valedictorian at Senn High, wrote poetry and had won a national high school essay contest. Yet her spirited, pretty face and athletic figure hardly suggested the oil-burning scholar, and she was well--liked because of her unvarying friendliness.
But their growingly uneasy speculations were suddenly cut short by the appearance of Luana, Jane and Lucille.
"It's time, pledges." Luana eyed them all with an encouraging smile. She bore no animosity toward any of the candidates for sorority sisterhood. And she remembered her own initiation as a freshman. Her Big Sister had been a junior, very much like Lucille in attitude, who had told her just to take things in stride. And it had worked. She was just a little concerned about Ellie's vindictive plans for Carla. After all, the prexy shouldn't abuse her powers to carry on a personal feud with one of the pledges. It was undignified and really not worthy of her. Of course, she privately agreed that Carla Dornell ought to have had better sense than to pick Ellie's own fiance to prove how attractive she was to the opposite sex. If Carla had made a play for Phil, she knew that she herself would have been miffed about it, though she probably wouldn't resort to settling accounts with Carla at a sorority initiation, which was supposed to be more for testing character and courage and the ability to be a good sport. Anyway, as Carla's Big Sister, while she was bound by the rules not to let on to the pledge what manner of initiation Carla was in for, she could at least give her some friendly advice.
"Now the first thing, girls, before you can become worthy of membership in Delta Kappa Phi, is to admit that you're just novices and not yet tested and tried and found eligible. Which means you have to defer to your Big Sisters at the outset. You're all to obey the orders Lucille, Jane and I are going to give you. While the initiation goes on, all of us regular members and officers will be making notes about the way you act and show that you're all good sports. And then next year, when you're all DKP girls, it'll be your turn to put the new pledges through what you're going to experience tonight. Understood?"
She saw by their nods and tentative smiles that most of them had taken her welcoming speech in the spirit in which she had tried to give it. She gave them all a friendly smile and went on: "First, you're to put your wrists behind your backs to be tied, and then blindfolded. Then we'll take you in and leave you in the isolation room till you're called for testing. So all of you come out into the hallway and we'll prepare you. There's no need to get alarmed-we'll not throw you to the lions, or anything like that."
A few nervous giggles told her that for the most part, the dozen pledges were going to be adaptable, one of Ellie's pet terms for a neophyte who didn't make any fuss. But there were always a few timid souls and once in a while a real troublemaker who began to quote you school rules that hazing wasn't legal and that you had no right to lay a finger on her. You had to look out for those. Scanning the pretty faces attentively turned to her, Luana felt reasonably sure this group would be smooth sailing-except maybe for poor Carla. She'd tried her best to talk Ellie out of being too severe, though of course she didn't exactly know what the final stunt was going to be. But she knew that Ellie had a temper when crossed. She'd seen the sorority prexy slap Lucille's face and almost draw blood from the tennis champion's gentle mouth when Ellie had thought Lucille hacT purposely opened a letter addressed to her, though she hadn't at all.
"All right, you heard the vice president, girls. Out in the hall and line up in single file," Jane briskly ordered. She was much more energetic than Luana about sorority rules and ceremonies, and had often accused the bespectacled blonde beauty about being too lenient on the pledges. Jane took her office very seriously. For her, the sorority was a way of life that compensated for her own unhappy childhood and impoverished family background. She'd won a scholarship to McDougal and then the unexpected death of a distant aunt had given her a legacy of a few thousand dollars, enough to enable her to pay her DKP house fees. So Luana didn't hold her officiousness to much against her; being a DKP officer meant so very much to the tall brunette.
There was a faint murmur of apprehension as Jane and Lucille now proceeded to tie and blindfold each pledge in turn; while Jane applied the cord round the neophyte's wrists, Lucille, stepping in front of the girl, tied a black bandanna around her eyes and tightly knotted it in back. Carla was last in line, and accepted this preparation with a good-natured shrug. Luana shot her a glance of admiration.
The girls were led down the hall and into the kitchen, then brought down the stairway to the basement one by one, Luana, or Jane or Lucille taking charge of each pinioned and blindfolded neophyte. They were ushered into the huge, converted cellar room, and herded behind a wide shoji screen. Elinor Darby had directed that while initiation rites were proceeding for one pledge at a time, the others should have wax ear stoppers so they couldn't hear what was going on and thereby derive any clue as to their own individual ordeals.
Slightly in front of the wide screen which concealed the dozen nervously waiting candidates, was another, smaller screen. Elinor had already established the order in which the girls were to be brought before the sorority tribunal, and Margaret Burnish had been selected as the first to undergo her test of worthiness. Lucille gently grasped the apprehensive young blonde by an elbow and whispered that she was to follow her, then directed her behind the smaller screen, directly opposite the huge, rectangular table at the back of the other wall. To guarantee that none of the pledges should see what was going on if their blindfolds proved ineffective, a wire had been strung across the huge room and long, wide, white sheets had been draped over it to act as curtains.
All was in readiness. At each end of the tribunal table, a tall, silver candlestick stood, with a thick, red candle glowing. Several brass candle holders had been fixed into the walls, and black candles placed in these. For the atmospheric purpose of the ceremonies, these candles provided the only light, a flickering, eerie glow.
Elinor, Jane and Luana sat at the table facing the curtains. The other girls stood around them, all armed with paddles of varying sizes, taped at the handles for secure wielding. Jane, as official secretary of the sorority, had steno notebook and ballpoint ready to keep official records of the meeting, which Elinor now opened with a pretentious introduction, using her most arrogant tone of voice to impress the pledges:
"Neophytes, lowly pledges, freshmen and other candidates for the exclusive honor of membership in Delta Kappa Phi-we are gathered here this night to test your worthiness in your commendable but perhaps misguided quest to join our illustrious ranks."
From inside the smaller screen, Margaret uttered a stifled gasp. The waiting sorority girls exchanged a gleeful look; their imminent first victim was duly awed.
Elinor went on: "First, all of you in turn, by the rules of our organization, must swear humbly to accept whatever penance, trial or test of courage we, your superiors, may set before you. If you fail to complete any of the ceremonies we have designated to determine your right to become one of us, you will face immediate rejection. Let me add that even if you so fail, you will endure the rest of your trials as a lesson in discipline, lest you dare again to aim so high without merit. All of us of Delta Kappa Phi have faced just such trials and emerged victorious, and we demand a similar success from you."
Lucille looked at Luana and rolled her eyes meaningfully; the lovely, bespectacled blonde fought the impulse to titter. Elinor was reading from a typed sheet of paper, and was quite proud of her prefacing speech; it would never do to show the slightest levity.
"We are ready to begin," Elinor now intoned. "Let the first neophyte be brought before this tribunal. Madame Secretary, whose name heads the list for trial?"
"That of Margaret Burnish, Madame President," Jane promptly responded, and Margaret, behind her screen, uttered a frightened little "Oh gosh!"
"Will the Big Sister responsible for Pledge Burnish's introduction to our exalted ranks escort her before us," Elinor now directed.
Harriet Tilman, a buxom junior whose brown hair was upswept and coiled in a thick braid round the top of her head, approached the screen and led the quivering Margaret out as the sheet curtains were drawn aside by Lucille. She turned Margaret to face the table, then whispered to the frightened blonde, who awkwardly knelt down.
"Candidate Burnish, you will take the oath of trial by ordeal," Elinor resumed. "Madame Secretary, you will read the Delta Kappa Phi oath for neophytes."
Jane inclined her head and drew a typed sheet before her. "Candidate Margaret Burnish, do you solemnly swear to submit humbly and courageously to whatever tests we have in store for you tonight?"
"Y-yes-"
"Do you agree without mental reservation of any kind to endure bravely your ordeal and to swear faithfully on penalty of future dire punishment by all of us, never to reveal to a living soul outside of our exalted and secret group the nature of those tests you are about to face?"
"I-I do," Margaret stammered, squirming on her knees, while Harriet put a hand on the girl's shoulder to keep her in position.
"The first trial will be that of pride, Candidate Burnish," Elinor declared. "You're very proud of your wavy permanent, aren't you?"
Margaret's sandy-blonde hair was done in a coquettish flip-do, with wavy, lustrous curls. "Y-yes," she quavered wonderingly.
"We find it unbecoming and rather dingy, if you want to know," Elinor commented insolently. "In fact, it shows signs of not having been washed for weeks. In my opinion, Candidate Burnish, you need a shampoo and rinse."
"But I had it done last week, when-" Margaret began tearfully.
"Silence, pledge! Big Sister Harriet, attend to it," Elinor decreed.
Harriet bent down and whispered to the distraught girl, making her crawl forward on her knees toward a wide, wooden washtub placed nearby. Two of the sorority sisters at once came forward, and while Harriet squatted down to grasp the victim's hands with one of hers and put her other palm on Margaret's back, the other girls pushed her head downward into the tub and proceeded to break half a dozen rotten eggs over her head and rub the ill-smelling yolks vigorously into her sandy-hued curls, then to rinse out the nauseous mess with a liquid concocted from maple syrup and vinegar and sauerkraut juice, which they scooped up from the washtub.
By now Margaret was crying and struggling. When the tub was finally pushed away to one side and she was allowed to kneel up, there was no evidence left of the vivacious permanent, only straggling, touseled curls sodden and discolored from the "unprofessional" ingredients applied. But this was only the beginning of her ordeal. There followed the test of courage.
Margaret's wrists were untied and she was instructed to get down on all fours and crawl forward. Under no circumstances was she to stop till told she might, or she would fail the test. Meanwhile, all twenty-six sorority girls, with Margaret's Big Sister Harriet at the front and Elinor Darby as the last in back, formed a single line, straddling their legs and gleefully brandishing their paddles. Harriet urged her sponsored pledge to begin, and as soon as poor Margaret had timorously crawled forward a few steps, brought down her paddle with a vehement crack across the snuggest sector of her ass, molded out by the pretty blonde's black-satin toreador pants. A wail of pain at once responded to this rude greeting and Margaret hesitated, only to be goaded on by Harriet's second spank and the latter's harshly whispered directive to keep going if she wanted to be accepted by the sorority.
Even the ear stoppers didn't completely deafen the other eleven waiting neophytes to Margaret's wails and sobs and pleas to be spared as, one by one, the paddles rose and fell with loud, emphatic sonorities against her juttingly upturned and temptingly ample posterior. When Elinor, having delivered the final swat, told her she might kneel up, the tearful beauty plunged both hands to the seat of her toreador pants and frantically tried to rub out the furious conflagration kindled by her enthusiastic peers.
"Next, Candidate Burnish," Elinor resumed her place at the tribunal table, while Harriet stood beside the still-sobbing blonde, holding her down by the shoulders, "you must drink the toast of loyalty to Delta Kappa Phi. Madame Vice-President, bring the sacred goblet to the lips of the neophyte!"
The "sacred goblet" was a beer mug. Luana dipped it into an authentic, silver-plated Russian samovar which Elinor had borrowed from the dining room for the occasion. And the samovar did not contain the traditional Russian chai; it was full to the brim with the halfviscuous liquid that combined oysters, stale beer and the other catalytic agents which Elinor and her cook had devised. Luana, sniffing it, made a face. She was glad she didn't have to drink it.
Harriet now drew Margaret's wrists behind her back, keeping her on her knees, as Luana approached with the mug.
Jane rose to read the toast: "As a pledge under consideration for membership in Delta Kappa Phi, I do hereby quaff this bumper to the very dregs in token of my unswerving future loyalty to all my sisters, should I be accepted as one of them. Just as I shall leave not even the lees of this toast, so shall I leave nothing undone to prove my eternal fealty to those who sponsor me this night."
Elinor had read up on feudal history and adapted one of the oaths of thralldom for her ritual. Margaret was made to repeat the words, and then ordered to down the entire contents of the beer mug. After the first hesitant sip, she choked and spluttered, but Harriet, keeping hold of the novitiate's wrists with her left hand, resorted to her paddle and a few well-aimed spanks convinced the unhappy pledge that drinking the unpalatable mixture was the lesser of two evils. A second empty washtub had been provided for those with quesy stomachs. Margaret had to make use of it almost immediately.
Elinor reprimanded the unhappy candidate for this failure, which had to be atoned for by submitting to the secret brand of the sorority. At her order, Margaret was tied to the column in the middle of the basement facing the tribunal table, with her wrists bound behind her, and Harriet removed the blindfold just long enough for the now thoroughly woebegone victim to see Mabel Ashton beating up the curling iron. Harriet then unbuttoned Margaret's short-sleeved, white-satin blouse amid frantic pleas to be spared this harrowing ordeal. The blindfold was restored, and Margaret writhed and twisted in a desperate attempt to get loose when Elinor solemnly commanded, "Let the sacred mark of Delta Kappa Phi be emblazoned on the timid flesh of this unworthy neophyte!"
"Ohh, noo-no, please, don't burn me-I-I don't want you to-oh, no, you'll sc-scar me-it'll hurt-oh, I can't stand any more-please don't!" Margaret implored hysterically.
Behind the column to which Margaret was tied, Mabel Ashton, donning a rubber glove, pulled down the zipper of a plastic picnic container, took out a long sliver of dry ice and came around to face the feverishly struggling and pleading captive. "Get ready for the brand, pledge," she hissed, and slowly applied the tip of the ice to Margaret's creamy tits. A wild, prolonged shriek resounded, and Margaret sagged in her bonds.
The blindfold and the pinions were removed, smelling salts revived her and she was led forward to kneel down before the tribunal table, congratulated by Elinor as having passed her trials and welcomed into the sorority. And as if by magic, her tears and discomfort were forgotten, and it was a happily smiling freshman who was allowed to leave the basement and go back home where she examined her tits fearfully.
In turn, the others waiting behind the wide shoji screen were summoned before the sorority, one by one. Most of them endured a similar ordeal with commendable stoicism. Mavis Lorrimer, however, became indignant at being forced to drink the toast of loyalty, got up from her knees and tried to fight with her Big Sister and the other girls taking part in the ritual. She was stretched over the table, skirt and slip pinned up, and while two girls held her wrists from the other side of the table, two other girls including her Big Sister applied their paddles to her quivering ass till she acknowledged herself ready to obey.
And now only Carla Dornell was left to be initiated. Elinor's eyes gleamed with sadistic anticipation as she ordered Luana to lead the redhead forth for judgment.
CHAPTER SIX
JANE READ THE SORORITY OATH AS CARLA KNELT, blindfolded, wrists tied behind her, Luana standing beside her in the latter's role of Big Sister. Elinor's thin nostrils twitched with a sensual impatience as she studied the kneeling freshman. If looks could have killed, Carla, despite her bandanna, would have vanished from the face of the earth. Instead, she knelt with head upright and shoulders back, in a courageous attitude that continued to win Luana's admiration.
Her attire purposely called attention to her bewitching tits, and it served further to inflame Elinor Darby's hostility. She wore a sleeveless, blue sweater in a heavy shaker stitch of orlon, with openwork detail across the top and bottom, and burgundy-colored stretch pants and thong sandals. Every exciting curve of her voluptuous body was set into titillating relief, and it was no wonder that Cash Hanson's eyes had wandered. Any man's would have, in such a costume. Her coppery toned hair was shaped in a helmet bob with a fringe all the way down the forehead, almost to the eyebrows and the bridge of her classic nose. The sides of this coiffure thus cupped a piquantly oval-shaped face, noteworthy for the deep dimpled cleft at the saucily firm chin, the slantingly set cheekbones, and the very widely spaced, large, dark-brown eyes, and the full, generous mouth. Her long slim arms, beautifully and gradually rounded toward the shoulders, exposed a smooth, warm tawny skin.
Her voice was a soft, husky contralto as she took the sorority oath. The calm assurance of her "I do!" was a further irritant to the sorority president.
"What a silly, kid's hairdo," she drawled. "I do believe I've never seen one like that before. Look at how it droops all over her face. And it hasn't been washed in ages, you can tell. Candidate Dornell, I suppose you're proud of it?"
"If I hadn't liked it, I wouldn't have worn it," was the pert answer.
"I suppose the same thing holds true of that tight sweater and stretch pants?"
"Well, you know what they say. Girls are supposed to dress for men, so that's what I'm doing."
"That's what they say, all right," Elinor spitefully flashed back, "and it's all right so long as they dress for their own men, not for other girls' men. All right, give her the shampoo and rinse she needs so badly."
Carla took the ritual in good grace, though she made a wry face at the smell of the eggs as they were broken and rubbed into her hair. Then her wrists were untied and she was made to get down on all fours while the gantlet formed in a long line ahead of her.
Luana was about to start her off through it when Elinor suddenly interposed: "I'll bet she's not even wearing panties, the brazen hussy! Look how tight those stretch pants are, they show off everything she's got! You can just about see her cunt!"
"I've got panties on all right," Carla spoke right up, with a rueful little laugh, "and if I've guessed right about what's going to happen next, I'm beginning to wish I'd padded them."
That whimsically brave ad-lib made many of the sorority sisters giggle with an approving endorsement of the freshman's courage. But it served only to antagonize the fuming brunette prexy of Delta Kappa Phi.
"Let's find out, girls! Luana, Lucille, take her stretch pants off and see if she's lying. If she is, she goes through the mill an extra time!"
Luana helped Carla to her feet and whispered hurriedly, "I'm all for you, Carla, but watch your tongue, you're only getting Elinor mad at you and it won't help you any!"
Carla herself aided by drawing the zipper and helping the two girls pull the skin-tight pants down over her pretty ass while she whispered back to Luana, "I know she hates my guts, but I'll take everything she dishes out. Thanks anyhow, Luana, you're swell!"
Carla hadn't lied. Her jouncy, well-spaced, oval-shaped ass-cheeks were encased in beige-colored panties, whose short legs left bare practically the entire, long, gracefully moulded columns of tawny-smooth thighs.
"All right, go on through, Dornell," Elinor commanded, her full insolent mouth twisting with spite. "You must be freezing with so little on. Let's warm her up good, girls!"
Luana, standing at the head of the paddle-line with her legs straddled wide, leaned down and whispered, "Go through as fast as you can, Carla. Don't stop!"
"Come on, come on, start her off, Luana," Elinor called angrily.
Carla drew a deep breath and, lowering her head, scrambled forward. Luana let her paddle fall lightly on the saucily upturned beige-sheathed ass as she felt Carla pass through her legs.
The coppery-haired freshman had taken Luana's ad vice and moved quickly forward. Moreover, the other girls had found Carla's self-deprecating bravado a welcome constrast to the attitude of her predecessors, and they had already initiated eleven girls before her. Consequently, their paddles did not fall with the enthusiastic vehemence of earlier. Elinor's lips tightened and her eyes narrowed as she observed this leniency. When Carla came through her legs, she dealt the redhead a wicked smack that made Carla squeal "Ouch!" and at once ordained, "She didn't feel a thing, you girls! She's got to go through again. That wasn't any test of courage. Now put some oomph into those paddles, hear?"
"She went through just like anybody else," Lucille defended the courageous freshman. "It's getting late, Elinor, and from the looks of the weather, we'll all have a problem getting home."
"I don't care! If Dornell wants to become a member, she's got to prove herself, and I as president say that wasn't any fair test at all. Luana, take her back and try it all over again! And the rest of you, remember what I said about whamming her!"
Luana drew Carla to her feet and, an arm round her waist, led her back to the head of the line. Carla's cheeks were flushed, but her head was still high. "I told you she was down on you, Carla honey," Luana whispered, "I wish I could help you, but I can't."
"She's taking it out on me because I dated her boy friend, that's all. It's not your fault. I told you I could take anything she can dish out, and I meant it," Carla whispered back as she got down again on all fours.
"Come on, Big Sister, start her off right, I want to hear that paddle ring out," Elinor called.
"Sorry, Carla, but I guess I have to. Start any time you're ready," Luana murmured.
"Now!" Carla breathed, and, again lowering her head, crawled forward. This time Luana applied the paddle with sufficient gusto to make it collide resoundingly, and Carla gasped and squirmed forward to the next girl in line.
This time, Elinor was satisfied. Carla did not move through so quickly as she had the first time, and there were enough resonant smacks to authenticate the severity of the ordeal. There were also sufficient squeals and loud gasps to indicate that the stoic, red-haired freshman was not emerging unscathed. Elinor herself delivered a swat with all her might and Carla, clenching her jaws, suppressed all but a shuddering groan, her nostrils convulsively flickering and shrinking. Elinor had aimed the blow uniquely, and the sting of it had reached underneath, to Carla's cunt.
"All right, pledge, you can kneel up now," the brunette decreed grudgingly.
Carla slowly obeyed. But to Luana's mounting admiration, she clenched her fists instead of at once rushing her hands back to her furiously inflamed ass, the angrily splotched condition of which could be glimpsed vaguely through the tight beige-hued panties.
"Let her drink the toast of loyalty now," Elinor said, with a pleased smirk as she took her place at the tribunal table. Luana dipped the beer mug into the now well-depleted samovar, and approached Carla, who, still blindfolded, fists at her sides, faced the table. Lucille came up, ready to lend a hand, but Luana shook her head. "She'll drink it by herself, won't you, Carla?"
"If the others did, I will too," Carla responded, in a slightly unsteady voice. And she shifted uncomfortably on her bare knees. The hard, cold floor hardly alleviated the pangs of the paddling.
"It's customary to hold the candidate's wrists behind her back while she drinks the toast," Elinor cut in, with icy sarcasm.
But Luana had already cupped the mug with both hands and put it to Carla's lips. The redhead, groping with her slim hands, found it and steadied it herself, then drawing a long breath, titled the mug back and drank it down quickly, swallowing as often as she could to force the odious concoction down. Finally, pale and perspiring, she lowered the mug and compressed her lips with an heroic determination, resolved not to disgrace herself as almost all the others had done by ejecting the brew into the second washtub. A murmur of approval rose through the room, at which Elinor's eyes narrowed.
"To the branding post with her," she snapped.
"You're doing fine, don't worry, honey," Luana helped Carla to her feet and took advantage of this proximity to whisper.
"As long-as I don't-get sick-ugh-that was horrible-I hope it doesn't-p-p-poison me," Carla's teeth were chattering.
"Take off that sweater, Luana. You can't brand her through it, you know," Elinor ordered.
The sweater doffed, Carla now revealed her magnificently lissome body to matching bra and panties, and sandals. Her tits were bold pears, narrowly set and high on her tawny chest; through the thin fabric of the bra, the hard, dark-rosy nipples pushed with a shuddering rhythmic surge, indicative of the physical stress of her prolonged ordeal.
"Heat the iron," Elinor hissed, while Luana made Carla stand with her wrists behind the column and tied them, taking care not to draw the knots too tight.
Mabel Ashton plugged the curling iron into the power outlet, and when it began to turn red, moved forward; the long extension cord conveniently ran from the wall to the column. But Elinor left the table and took the iron away from Mabel. "I'm going to administer the brand myself," she exclaimed. She stood facing Carla, who continued to stand with the head held high, though from time to time the convulsive shaking of her tits testified to the heroic struggle she was waging against her protesting stomach, as did the beads of perspiration that ran down her sides.
Luana, closely watching Elinor's taut, avidly sadistic features, grew more and more uneasy. She quickly squatted down, opened the plastic container and took out a long sliver of dry ice, then moved beside Elinor. From the glitter in the brunette's eyes, she was afraid Elinor was really going to use the curling iron. Slowly, the red-hot iron approached the tawny chest, near the narrow cleft between the two surging, firm tits ... nearer and nearer still, till Carla could feel the heat on her bare, perspiring skin. She arched her back against the column, her teeth bared in a rictus of defiance.
Elinor drew her breath, and Luana swiftly reacted; with her left hand, she seized the brunette's wrist and turned the iron away, while with her other hand, she directed the tip of the ice against that sensitive cleft. The other girls, spellbound by the tension of the scene and by its realism, let out a simultaneous gasp of relief.
At the touch of the ice, Carla stiffened. Her head was flung back against the column and her nails had dug into her palms almost to the blood.
Elinor's eyes met Luana's; for a long moment, the brunette stared at her second in command. Then she chuckled humorlessly. "All right. Now you and Lucille can lead Dornell to the special room to undergo her final test." Turning to the others, she dismissed them arrogantly: "I shan't need the rest of you any more. You can go home. I'll let you know Monday if Dornell passes. So far, she'd done fine. Now I'm going to see just how much guts she's really got."
As Elinor stood at the door, taking a kind of regal leave of her departing subjects, Lucille, standing beside Luana near the column to which Carla was still bound, shook her head and whispered, "I don't get it, Luana. What's this "final test" business? We've never given any pledge more than Carla got tonight."
"Don't ask me what's in Elinor's mind, Lucille. All I know is, the way she's been acting tonight, I wouldn't put anything past her."
"Well, I don't really want any part of it. For my money, that cute redhead has already shown us all enough guts to qualify for membership. She's got my vote," Lucille declared fervently.
Elinor turned back from the door now, having said good night to the last of her sorority sisters. "All right, untie her and take her to my bedroom, you two," she ordained haughtily.
"What's this final test of yours, Ellie?" Lucille asked.
Elinor tossed her head angrily. "That's my business. You just do what you're told. Since when does a DKP member refuse her president's orders?"
"Since right now, Ellie. If you want to know, I didn't vote for you as president last year, and the way you've thrown your weight around tonight is one of the reasons. I don't want any part of this."
"You're just chicken, and you've always been that way," Elinor sneered. "Okay, run along home. Luana'll help me. And thanks for not voting for me and telling me where you stand."
"You're quite welcome. Good night, Luana." Lucille turned on her heel and walked out of the basement.
"Let her go, Luana-honey. The two of us can get Carla ready, can't we?"
"I ... I suppose so. But she's really gone through a lot-" Luana hesitatingly defended the courageous freshman.
"Look, don't you go getting soft on me now you're my vice-president, and don't forget it." Luana sighed and nodded. She'd better stay around and see just what was going to happen. Poor little Carla could use a friend and ally.
Elinor roughly untied the captive's wrists, tugging at the cords more strenuously than was really necessary. "Leave that blindfold on, pledge," she snapped, when Carla tentatively raised a slim hand to her eyes. "Lead her up the stairs, Luana. All right, pledge, move!"
Carla walked unsteadily. But her shoulders and head were still stoically erect, and when Luana gently took her by the hand and whispered that the stairway was just ahead and to feel her way slowly, she whispered, "Thanks, you're swell, Big Sister."
In the deserted basement, the dwindling candles still flickered. On the huge tribunal table, the pinewood paddles lay strewn about. The "Mad March Midnight" had ended-for everyone but Carla Dornell....
Elinor Darby's bedroom could have been taken out of a photograph in House Beautiful. It was dominated by a huge four-poster bed with canopied top and curtains. It had been her mother's bed, and Elinor had been born in that bed. It was of a rich, dark mahogany, and a matching dresser at the opposite wall reflected the glow of the softly diffused ceiling light set in a modernistic, globe-like fixture.
The curtains had already been drawn aside, and on the sheets, four lengths of cord had already been laid out. Elinor had made her preparations well in advance.
"Get her onto the bed and make her lie down on her back-I'm sure she's used to that position," was the sorority president's malicious jibe. Luana's eyes widened, having spied the cords, but Elinor intercepted her unspoken question with a curt, "Do as I say if you want to stay in office, Luana!"
"It's all right, Luana," Carla murmured, "remember what I told you."
With an uneasy sigh, Luana led the blindfolded, scantily clad redhead to the bed and helped her get onto it. When Carla lay on her back, Elinor commanded, "Now stretch your arms out beyond your head and spread your legs-that too oughtn't to be too hard for you to do!"
Carla's cheeks reddend, but she silently obeyed.
"Now tie her wrists and ankles to the bedposts," Elinor said to Luana. "Tie them real tight, so she can't get loose!"
"Elinor, I really think-"
"I gave you an order, Madame Vice President!"
"I want to know what you're going to do first, Elinor. You almost used that curling iron instead of-"
"Why-you stupid blabbermouth, you! There you go telling initiation secrets! All right, if you're not going to help, leave me alone with her. I'll do it myself, I don't need you anyway!"
Luana hesitated, biting her lips in indecision.
"You heard me-if you're not going to help, you can leave!"
"Only if you promise you won't hurt her. I want your word of honor!"
Elinor uttered a metallic laugh, but there was no laughter in her eyes. "You're as chicken as Lucille is. All right. I give you my word of honor I won't hurt Carla. What I'm going to do is what I'm sure she'd love to have done to her. And that's all either of you has to know. Now you can go, Luana."
"I will. But I'm staying in the hall, just in case-"
"That's up to you. But once you go out of here, don't come back in till I tell you to, savvy?"
Luana gave the brunette an indignant look, paused to look down at Carla, then turned and walked out of the bedroom, closing the door behind her.
No sooner had she gone than Elinor rummaged under a pillow, took out a pear-shaped rubber gag and, pinching Carla's nostrils shut with left thumb and forefinger, inserted it into the redhead's mouth; then she swiftly wound a hand towel, which she had placed under the pillow with the gag, around the victim's mouth and tied it tightly at the back of Carla's neck.
"There now, we're all ready," she hissed. "Do you know what I'm going to do with you now, you man chaser? You're so crazy for a man, I've persuaded one of the fraternity guys to hide in my closet and wait till we got finished tonight. He's waiting for you, Carla honey. You like to play the teaser, don't you, with my steady? Well, see what luck you have with the boy friend I've picked for you."
Carla stiffened and jerked at her wrists, rolling her head from side to side. But Elinor had tied the cords mercilessly tight round the redhead's slim wrists and ankles. And the rubber gag effectively silenced all but a few unintelligible whimpers and moans.
"Patience, darling," Elinor mocked the helpless captive. "He'll be worth waiting for, I promise. Maybe this'll teach you not to go around campus stealing fellows that don't belong to you. And if you dare snitch to the dean about tonight, I'll have a couple of my sorority sisters swear on a stack of Bibles that you've been the most promiscuous freshman ever to enroll at McDougal. So just lie there and relax and save your strength-you'll need it!"
She walked back to her closet, opened the door, and entered, partly closing the door. Carla, raising her head, tried to strain her ears, but she heard only a rustling sound. The moments passed. Her pear-shaped tits rose and fell with an erratic turbulence, and her lips were parted and quivering. Long tremors rippled along her smooth, sleek belly with its deep, narrow kiss-nook indenting the flawlessly tawny flesh.
The door of the closet swung back. A figure emerged, wearing a man's cap, shirt and bow tie, and brown corduroy trousers and flat-heeled loafers-stood for a moment staring at the bed, then moved slowly toward it.
"Oh, no-untie me-please untie me!" Carla tried to cry out, but the gag turned that plea into a long, inarticulate moan.
The bed creaked as the other figure's weight mounted upon it and crouched down over the spread-eagled redhead. A slim hand reached for Carla's panties, grasped the waistband, then ruthlessly ripped them off. Carla uttered a strangled scream of terror, her flesh cringing. Her head rolled from side to side, nostrils flaring and shrinking convulsively, and her tits rose and fell with a frenetic turbulence.
Slim fingers crawled on her thighs, pinching and stroking, while Carla tried with all her waning strength to clench her legs against the inexorable grip of the cords which forced her ankles wide apart.
Then she felt hurrying, prying fingers exploring her cunt-flesh, while she arched and strained, shaken by fitful tremors that surged from the very core of her being. Despite her fear, she was beginning to become aroused.
Then the crouching figure leaned forward, covering her. Carla's fingernails bit into her own sweaty palms, and as her head rose, a wild cry welled up within her. But it was choked off by the gag, and died a-borning in her throat. A sudden, stabbing agony had transfixed her pussy, delving where she had never known such sensation. She ground her teeth in exquisite agony, moaning in the torment of that searing, rending penetration.
Then she lay inert, covered by the dominating conqueror upon her. And only then did her ravisher commence to ply her with a rhythmic battering. And at first there was renewed pain, till suddenly, as evidenced by the sobbing moan that began in Carla's throat, an indescribable, exquisitely benign attunement heralded its approach. The movements of the figure atop her quickened, as did her body's enervating, compelled responses. And then the gathering tumult burst within her being, and Carla arched and twisted in the savage dynamism of assuagement. In short, Elinor had screwed Carla's brains loose-and Carla had popped her cookies.
The final test had been achieved. By travesty and by simulacrum, it had been perpetuated. But the victim had not guessed that, despite her secret longing to sacrifice her virginity, she remained still a virgin-you figure that one out-for truly, Carla had been screwed.
Luana paced restlessly back and forth in the hall, her senses keened as never before. The bedroom was so thickly carpeted and draped, the door so heavy, that sounds did not emanate clearly. Try as she would, she could hear almost nothing except faint, stifled moans and gasps. Her mind raced with terrifying thoughts she'd been wrong to leave the vindictive brunette alone with poor Carla. She ought to have stayed there and prevented any further torture. In the four years she'd been at McDougal and a member of Delta Kappa Phi, she couldn't remember a more prolonged, spiteful initiation than the redhead had endured tonight. And now this. She had half a mind to go in and stop Elinor She reproached herself for not standing up to the haughty sorority president. Lucille had been right in accusing Elinor of using her office for selfish purposes. Even if Carla were guilty of poaching on the brunette's romantic preserves, that didn't give Elinor the right to use the traditional ceremonies of pledging and initiation as the medium for a personal feud. That sort of thing ought to be settled outside the sorority.
What was Elinor doing? Now she could hear nothing at all. Yes, she ought to have stayed in there. She was Carla's Big Sister, the one who'd sponsored her as a new pledge to DKP. She ought to have The door suddenly opened, and Elinor came out, dressed in pajamas and sandals. Her long pageboy was rumpled and she raised a languid hand to smooth out the curls.
"I've finished with her now, Luana. You can look after her and see she gets home. Or if it's too late, you can stay there all night with her, I don't much care. I'm going to sleep in Dad's room. 'Night."
"You-you didn't hurt her-I should have been in there to make sure you didn't hurt her-"
"Calm down, chicken-and I do mean chicken. You and Lucille are the same kind. No, I didn't hurt her, the tramp-" Elinor's face twisted with contempt-"matter-of-fact, she might even have liked it."
"L--liked it?" Luana gasped incredulously.
"Honey, there are times when I think you're not the big girl you pretend to be. Yes, I said liked it. In my book, that redheaded man-stealer's a common, garden-variety of masochist, and if you don't know what that is, you don't belong in the senior class. Well, it's been a long, interesting night-me for bed."
With this, Elinor, affecting a sleepy yawn, nodded and disappeared down the hall. Luana stared after her a moment, then shook her head and entered the bedroom.
"Carla!" Her eyes widened, seeing the lovely captive's head turned to one side. Quickly she untied the blindfold, then the towel, and drew out the cruel gag.
"You poor darling-I'll untie you right away-ohh, there's blood-she hurt you-I ought to report her to the dean-she's gone too far-"
"N-no-Luana-it-it didn't h-hurt-not really-and she didn't do it!"
"She didn't-what do you mean?" Feverishly, Luana began to try to unknot the cords around Carla's slim wrists and ankles, but they had been tied much too tight, and the redhead's frantic struggles had made the cords dig viciously into her tawny flesh. "Wait, I'll get something to cut them-oh, it's awful, Carla-tying you and-and hurting you like that-" She ran to Elinor's dressing table, picked up a pair of manicure scissors and came back to the bed. Hurriedly, she cut the cords. "Now don't you move, I'll get a towel and some warm water-you-you're bl-bleeding-"
To her astonishment, Carla giggled as she glanced down at herself. "That's what usually happens when a girl does it the first time, Luana. Now don't you fuss so much, I'm all right, truly I am."
"Carla, what-what are you saying-?"
"She-she had a fellow hiding in the closet. He he made love to me. The funny thing is," again Carla giggled and stretched her limbs warily, wincing slightly, "she didn't know I've been wanting to find out what it's like with a man for ever so long."
Luana was speechless. What a perfectly horrible thing to do to a nice girl-a man hiding in the closet but-but nobody'd come out of the bedroom except Elinor. Wait-the window was open-maybe he'd climbed out that way.
"Th-then you d-don't know who it was?"
Carla shook her head. She was slowly sitting up, reaching back to prop the rumpled pillows behind her. Luana hurried to the bathroom to dampen a towel in warm water. Then she came back and began to sponge the red-haired freshman's thighs and loins.
"No he-he had scratchy trousers on, though
-I guess they were cords-and he didn't say a word
-now don't you go getting worried about me, Luana honey. You-you treated me just swell for a Big Sister, and I appreciate it. Maybe now Miss High 'n Mighty Darby'll call it quits. But if she thinks she was punishing me, she's all wet."
Luana was dazed by Carla's cheerful, matter-of fact acceptance of what struck Luana as the supreme indignity. And she couldn't help thinking of the difference the intangible quality of virginity made with some people; for herself, it wasn't so much the possession of it as simply not letting Phil think her easy and amoral. For Carla, it was something to be traded for exciting new experience.
"There-that ought to be better. Can I get you anything? A glass of water, or maybe an aspirin, Carla?"
Carla threw back her head and laughed, her firm tits jouncing in the snug bra. "Honey, you look more beat and frazzled than I do, and I'm the one it happened to. You're mighty sweet. No, I don't need anything. But I heard her say we could stay here tonight. I know it's awfully late, and the weather's awful. I'd just as soon stay here-it's a nice, comfy bed. Would you-would you stay with me, Luana?"
"Sure-I-I better use the phone and tell my folks, though. They'd be worried."
"You go do that, Luana, and hurry back. Oh-if you could find a cigarette, I'd like that. Otherwise I'm just fine."
"I-I'll see if I can find any. And I'll be right back."
Carla eyed her smilingly. The redhead made no attempt to cover herself, though she wore only her bra and sandals. Now she put her hands to the back of her neck and arched like a cat. Luana felt her cheeks flame at the bold, yet breathtakingly beautiful display of the tawny-fleshed thighs, the smooth, flat, deep dimpled belly, the supple loins marked by the dark red thatch guarding Carla's cunt.
"I-I'll be right back," Luana repeated. Carla's warm-toned, virtual nudity was like a potent magnet drawing her gaze; she had to force herself to put her hand to the doorknob and open it. And the strangest thing-just before she went out, she had the curious feeling that Carla was looking at her with a knowing, affectionate look....
"It's all right, I can stay. I called my folks and let them know where I was. Carla, do you think I ought to call yours, too?"
"No. There's only my aunt. And if I know her, she's out late herself tonight on a date. She knows I can take care of myself. Did you find any cigarettes?"
"Yes. One of the girls must have left almost a whole pack in the dining room. I hope you like Tareytons."
"Not enough to fight instead of switch, but they'll do just fine. Thanks, Luana."
Luana held out the pack, and Carla plucked one out with slim fingers. Luana struck a match and leaned over to light it for the redhead. Carla had drawn a thin, decorative blanket over her and was still sitting up. She put her hand on Luana's wrist and held the match till she had the cigarette glowing, but her fingers didn't at once release their hold; she leaned forward and blew out the match, then eyed the bespectacled blonde. "You're so nice. I'm glad you're my Big Sister. I knew I'd get a fair shake from you, Luana."
"I didn't really do anything."
"Yes, you did. You tried your best to get me off lightly. And I think you got the other girls to see just how mean Elinor Darby was. She's a jealous cat, and just between us, I'd like to take her boy friend away for good. It would serve her right."
"If you're going to stay in the sorority, Carla, that wouldn't be very smart."
"She couldn't do anything, once I've passed the 'nishiashun. And I did, didn't I? Didn't I tell you I could take everything she could dish out?"
Luana nodded. Carla's fingers were still holding her wrist. They felt soft and affectionate. It was strange how she found herself shivering now. Maybe it was an aftermath of this disgusting vindictive thing Elinor had done to poor Carla.
"Luana?" The redhead's fingers seemed to tighten, and again Luana felt herself flushing.
"What, Carla?"
"Whyn't you get ready for bed and come keep me company'n smoke a cigarette? Or are you sleepy?"
"It's been a long night, that's for sure. And you certainly ought to get some rest."
"I told you I felt fine. Now that it's over, I can look back and laugh. Maybe I was just a little scared-"
"Well, I should hope so!" Luana expostulated as she straightened.
"But I'm not now. Not that you're here with me. Go get ready for bed, okay?"
"All-all right." Luana went into the bathroom and began to undress. She'd go to bed in her bra and panty girdle-she wasn't going to use any of Elinor's things, just on general principles. She closed the bathroom door and turned on the shower. She was still bewildered at the casual way Carla was taking that-rape-that's what it was. And suppose there was a baby-it would be a horrible scandal for the sorority-maybe she ought to ask Carla if-she was just all mixed up.
She dried herself with a big Turkish towel and decided to sprinkle herself with some of the Houbigant Chantilly dusting powder she found in a big box on the window ledge, so that her skin wouldn't chafe sleeping in her undies. Then got back into the bra and panty girdle, opened the bathroom door and clambered into bed.
"That's nice," Carla breathed, her eyes starry as she lifted up the sheets and made room for Luana, then squirmed under them herself, throwing the blanket to the foot of the bed. "Here, have a cigarette too. I like company. I sort of feel like it tonight."
"I ... I know. Thanks." This time it was Carla who struck a match and held it to Luana's cigarette. "Carla-I-I don't want to embarrass you or-"
"What's the problem, Big Sister?" Carla teased, her voice husky-so ft, as if the roles had been reversed and she were the freshman's sponsor. "What's worrying you?"
"It's about you. I mean-I don't want to ask you about-about-but maybe-that is-"
Carla burst into hilarious giggles, her head shaking with amusement. "Oh, Big Sister, you're priceless! So you think maybe I'll be a ruined woman with a dreadful secret, huh? I don't think so, Luana. Don't get me wrong-I never had a guy before, though heaven knows I wanted it bad enough to find out what it was like but I've read enough books and talked to gals in the know, enough so I'm pretty sure I won't get pregnant. You are sweet to worry about me like that, Lu-honey."
"Oh. Well, I was worried for your sake. Because Elinor could just about get expelled for what she did if anything happened to you-and if you brought charges against her anyway, I think-"
"I don't want to get revenge by being a tattle-tale.
When I give that hellcat what's due her, I'll do it on my own, and one of these days, you'll see the orneriest hair-pulling fight that ever happened on good old McDougal campus. But let's forget all about her now. Tell me about you, Luana. You got a fellow?"
"Yes. We're engaged."
"That's nice. Known him long?"
"About three years."
"Do I know him?"
"I don't think so. His name's Phil Corcoran, he's a senior. We're both going to graudate this June."
"I know of him. Isn't he the terrific lineman on the team, who made all-state?"
"That's my boy."
"Sure. I read about him in the school paper. And I think I saw a write up in one of the Chicago papers' sports section last fall. And you're going to marry him?"
"If things go right. But that's a ways off. He's going into his dad's automobile sales business and he wants to get somewhere on his own. I figure it'll be another two years before we can think of marriage."
"That's an awful long time for a girl to wait for a fellow. Unless she has an affair with him till they get married."
Again Luana felt her cheeks burning. On the defensive, before Carla's whimsically quizzical gaze, she blurted, "Well, we aren't having that, I can assure you. There'll be time enough when we get married."
"You mean, Luana," Carla's eyes wereingenuously wide, "you and your guy haven't been ballin' in all these three years? Boy, you're a rare pair, I'd say!"
Again Luana felt herself thrown on the defensive and obliged to explain what was really none of the redhead freshman's business. "You make it sound as if we're a couple of characters out of the Mid-Victorian ages, Carla. It's not that way at all. It's just-well-sure, I've done my share of necking and petting-I don't even know why I should be telling you this-but we just don't need to get too involved. It wouldn't be fair to either of us."
"Is that your idea, or his?" Again that naive, wondering stare which had the inexplicable power to disconcert Luana. And this question deepened her blushes, because she was remembering their last date and how Phil had tried to force the issue.
"We both feel that way," she fibbed. "Hey, where's the ash tray?"
"Over on this side. Reach over me."
Luana leaned over Carla's nude body under the sheets and crushed out the butt. She was conscious of the warmth and scent of Carla's nakedness, of the friction of Carla's naked tits against her own, bra-sheathed. As she quickly tried to retreat, Carla put her arms round Luana's shoulders and murmured, "You know, you've got a simply gorgeous figure, Lu. If I were your guy, I wouldn't let you go three years without laying you."
Carla's lips were inches away from Luana's, and her eyes fixed Luana with a glowingly ardent stare. "Lu-know something?"
"Wh-what? Carla-I-I'm not comfortable this way-let me slip back next to you-" Luana stammered.
Carla reached up with one hand, deftly removed the harlequin glasses and set them down on the night table. "Oh, now you look lots younger'n cuter, Luana!" she breathed.
Then she put both hands to Luana's armpits and kissed the startled blonde full on the mouth. "I'm so glad you're my Big Sister," she murmured. "So awfully glad. Please kiss me back, Lu, won't you, honey? So I know you like me too?"
Awkwardly drawn across Carla's torso, her swelling, bra-sheathed tits mashing against the tawny-sheened, dark-tipped, naked pears of the redhead's vivacious bosom, Luana found herself pinned by Carla's slim, winding, naked arms. To extricate herself, she decided to comply, and kissed Carla, a kiss without emotion or ardor, a kiss of simple friendship. Then she tried to wriggle loose.
But to her stupification, Carla's arms, instead of releasing her, tightened all the more, and the naked redhead squirmed against her, murmuring huskily, "Oh, Lu-Lu-I wish-I wish it had been you who made love to me just now. 'Cause-want to know a secret? I'm crazy about you."
"Let me go, Carla, please-"
"I don't want to, ever, Lu. Because-having you next to me like this-just about drives me wild-"
"Carla!"
"It does so! Do you really mind being next to me like this, in bed, do you?"
Flustered and scarlet-faced, Luana uneasily gasped, "You-you're upset-f-from what happened. Please-let's try to get some sleep. I-I like you very much, of course. Now please let go, Carla."
"Know what, honey? I'll bet you're really scared of being with a guy-that's why you haven't let your boy friend go all the way with you. Three whole years my gosh, I'd go crazy if I didn't have some loving in all that time. And I know you're not a dried-up, old maid prude. Know how I can tall, Lu honey?" One of her hands had slipped behind Luana now, and the blonde uttered a startled cry and tried to break loose-for Carla had just unfastened the hooks and eyes at the back of her bra, and Luana felt it drop to the sheets. And then Carla's arms fairly crushed her, till she felt her naked tits pantingly merge against the redhead's, felt Carla's hard, swollen nipples prod her own quiveringly sensitive lovebuds, and a violent shudder rippled through her.
"Please stop-Carla-I don't want you to-to act this way-Carla-you-" she gasped.
"Yes, you do," Carla throatily murmured, agilely twisting so that she turned onto her left side and made Luana turn to face her, "and you know why, too, Lu honey. It's 'cause inside you're really wanting to be loved something fierce. And if it wasn't with your guy because you're not a cat in heat like that nasty Elinor, it's got to be with someone you like a lot and who likes you and who won't get you into trouble."
With this, her supple, soft fingers pressing hard into Luana's quivering armpits, Carla brought her tempting, humid mouth toward the blonde's softly curved, pink throat, artfully fusing her lithe nakedness against Luana's palpitating body. And once again the clash of their bare tits acted like an overpowering, erotic stimulant to the older beauty. Closing her eyes, she tried to push Carla away, whispering brokenly, "Don't-no, Carla, you-you mustn't-please-it-it's not right-"
"But it's not wrong for us to like each other don't you see, Lu? Don't you know that girls can make love to each other ever so tenderly-that sometimes it's even better than with a fellow? And we're both excited from-from the 'nishiashun-and I'm all worked up because of what Elinor had done to me and you're excited too, I can feel you are, Lu honey, 'cause you've held off so long from any loving-let me show you how sweet it can be!"
The husky, persuasive murmur of Carla's voice was interspersed with guileful, quick, enervating kisses. Drawing back and squirming down farther under the sheets, she bowed her head and Luana uttered a sobbing little groan, "Oh, n-no, don't!" as she felt Carla's warm lips brush one of her nipples. A twinge of delicious torment seared through that firming coral bud. Again, feverishly, she tried to push Carla away, then to try to grasp the girl's slender but surprisingly strong wrists to push away those maddeningly titillating fingers which had now crept to the outer curves of her erratically heaving tits.
But the redhead was not to be denied. And as she moved, the palpitating warmth of her tawny, naked body frictioned and caressed Luana. Now her left hand cupped one of Luana's breasts, the other hand reaching round to caress the pink-sheened satiny back, descending to the bold flare of the blonde's quivering ass.
Now she raised her provocative, flushed face to Luana's, the eyes wide, luminous and questioning. And her hands cupped the blonde's shudderingly swelling tits, like a votary paying homage to the high priestess. The tremulous curve of her humid, red lips was like that of a trusting childs, guileless and devoted, affectionate and ardent, naive and yearning. And in her mind's eyes, Luana, more stirred than she knew, beheld the hostile, selfish, ruthless glitter of Phil's eyes when he had tried to demand and take what she was not yet ready to accord. Whereas Carla wanted only to be close to her, sought only compassion after her ordeal....
"You're so nice, so lovely, Luana darling." The young seductress plied her with tenderness where Phil had sought to gain her by force. And the warm, slim fingers curling around her pantingly shuddering breasts evoked sensations that seemed even more enervating than any Phil had roused in her.
"Oh, Carla, Carla, what am I going to do with you?" she groaned helplessly.
"Just love me and let me love you too, dear Luana," the redhead breathed. And now her warm, young mouth was nuzzling Luana's aching, firming nipples till waves of swooning ecstasy began to besiege the blonde's control. It was wrong, unnatural-yet it felt so heavenly to bask in this appreciative, amorous warmth, to accept this fleshly homage that subtly probed for her innermost narcissism and made her joyous in knowing herself to be woman and well-made and capable of all delights without pain or harshness.
Her eyes still closed, Luana put her mouth to Carla's. found it, and implanted her first true kiss of carnal emotion. Then slowly, her arms went round the lithe, warm, naked body.
"Show me how, Carla darling ... oooh ... show me how," she heard her own voice, faint, trembling, beseeching. For an instant, Carla moved away, reaching to turn off the lamp on the night table. And then again Luana felt that artful, supple, seething body come against her own, felt burning kisses dart along her flesh. And in her turn, her hands began to grope, to feel, to caress and encounter in the adventuring of beauty that sought beauty in return ... And finally, nipple to nipple, cunt rubbing cunt, they banged away blissfully to oblivion.
CHAPTER SEVEN
LUANA WOKE EARLY THE NEXT MORNING TO FIND herself in Elinor Darby's huge bed, with Carla still peacefully sleeping nude beside her. As she turned her head to see Carla's serenely lovely face on the pillow next to hers, she sat up with a stifled gasp, feeling her blushes spread from ears to throat. And she remembered.
Hastily she got out of bed, donning bra and panty girdle and straightening her rumpled stockings, then went into the bathroom to wash her face. The cold water cleared the feverish, confused thoughts which swirled through her. And yet she found it singular that amid all these, there was none of guilt. After her first, startled reaction to the redhead's affectionate and amorous initiative, what had taken place had seemed so inexorably logical, so exquisitely thrilling and appeasing, that she had escaped the festering rancor of shame. Even now, as she glanced back at the bed where Carla still slept, a charming smile formed on her soft red lips as blushes were evoked by the memory of her own passionate responses. Intuitively, as Carla had wooed her, she had communicated her own grateful and pent-up longings; she had solaced the younger girl for her hurts and humiliation, and in so doing, she herself had known solace, perfect, uninhibited, complete.
Yes, it had been wrong. Now, in the light of the new day, in aftermath, coldly and analytically, she could tell herself that she had rationalized her behavior last night. For in all honesty, she had denied Phil the culmination of his desires on moral grounds, yet here she had turned to the embraces of one of her own sex for fulfillment of her own yearnings. She had been angry with Phil because he had sought a natural and understandable unison with her, the girl he loved. Yet she had been a wanton last night, with a girl who was virtually a stranger, with whom she had had no such affectionate friendship over a length of time, as with Phil. In a word, she realized that in a sense she had been a moral hypocrite, and she was angry with herself for having blamed Phil for perhaps recognizing in her an inherent capacity for passion, for having given Carla so freely and impulsively what she had calculatedly forbidden him.
She remembered, too, Dad's often-repeated, pompous declaration, whenever the topic turned to the modern outlook on sex. "In my book, St. Paul said it is far better to marry than to burn." Dad didn't hold with offbeat attitudes on the basic moralities, and Mom didn't either. She'd never really thought of them as straitlaced, but in a way, she supposed they would be judged as such by people her age. At least she would never have dared to discuss with either of them the proposition of "trial marriage" that Phil had dreamed up; they would undoubtedly have been shocked enough to insist that she break off any further relationship with him.
Better to marry than to burn. There was a great deal of practical wisdom in that archaic homily. Of course she wanted to get married, and of all the fellows she'd met, either in high school or at McDougal, Phil was the one who most appealed to her on all counts. She really owed him an apology for getting on her high horse. Sex was a natural, logical, inescapable phase of love-for some people, inseparable and almost synonymous. If she had accepted his kisses and his sometimes bold fondling of her as their regimen of necking and petting, she could not really have been ingenuous enough to think that he would draw a demarcation line between the prelude of lovemaking and lovemaking itself, after three years of what she was certain was abstinence. It had been that for her, of course, and she knew him to be in no way promiscuous or flagrantly carnalminded.
This experience with Carla was a warning sign from nature itself; if this younger girl had been perceptive enough to declare that she, Luana, was inherently yearning for passion, then it was time she re-examined herself in the light of her responsiveness. Perhaps she had been too practical in being ready to refuse marriage with Phil simply because economically, things were not so rosily secure as she might have wished. After all, he was sure to inherit his father's business; his record at college had been that of a fine student and honest athlete, and he was seriously dedicated to proving his worth on the lowest level in his father's business. These were qualities that argued loudly and well for his qualifications as good husband material. On the other hand, he was only twenty-two, and though at twenty she knew herself to be mature enough for marriage, Phil's age was still too young. At least that was what Mom had once said. Mom held that a woman matured much earlier in life than a man, and that a man wasn't really mature for responsibilities till he reached twenty-five or twenty-six.
Actually, if it hadn't been that Phil had taken off one whole spring to help his dad out in the repair shop, and because he wanted the feeling of working with his hands, he might have been graduated at twenty-one instead of this June. She had sailed through college, with the head start of having finished high school nearly a year ahead of girls her own age. There was an awful lot to think about when you thought of marriage. And the state of the world, what with cold wars and piling up nuclear weapon stocks, was one tremendous factor in getting young people to want to live today and not plan for tomorrow, because tomorrow might never come. She could understand that, and in turn realize that this was still another argument in Phil's favor.
At any rate, she was going to do some serious thinking about the whole situation with Phil. And the next time he called, she'd accept a date and try to patch things up.
She felt better already for having made that decision. Now for some breakfast, and then to get home. Fortunately, there wouldn't be any recriminations from the folks; they'd known the past month all about the Delta Kappa Phi initiation and that she was second ranking officer and would be expected to be on hand for the ceremonies.
The first thing to do was find Elinor and simply follow the amenities of thanking her for her hospitality, without the least reference to what had happened last night. She'd drop Carla off in a cab, then go on home. After putting on her slip and dress, she tiptoed quietly out of the bedroom and walked down the hall to the room where Elinor had said she would spend the night.
The door was open, and the bed had been made. Elinor was nowhere in sight. She went downstairs, and found Suzanne tidying up the living room. The pert French maid informed her that her mistress had already breakfasted and gone out. "I think she has gone to meet her fiance, tu crois," Suzanne smilingly volunteered. Luana thanked her and asked if she might impose on the hospitality of the household for breakfast for herself and one of the pledges who had been initiated last night. At this, Suzanne giggled, rolled her eyes and exclaimed, "Mais oui! I am sure Ma'am'selle Carla will want a hearty breakfast after last night. T will tell Gretchen-she is the cook-and she will prepare something for you both. Do you wish me to bring it up, Ma'am'selle Luana?"
"Oh, no, please don't go to any bother for me. I'll wake Carla up and we'll both come down to have it. Even in the kitchen would be fine."
"It is no bother, Ma'am'selle, it ees my job. As you wish. I will go tell Gretchen now." Suzanne curtseyed and disappeared into the kitchen.
Luana hurried back upstairs, just in time to see Carla slip out of bed. The provocative redhead was as bare as Eve, and unconcernedly greeted her with a gay, "Hi, Lu honey! My gosh, I really slept round the clock, didn't I?"
"It-it was good for you. How-how do you feel?"
She stood, shameless as Lillith, hands on hips, roguishly eyeing Luana, whose cheeks promptly crimsoned as, averting her eyes from that tawny-sheened statue of vibrant girl flesh, she heard Carla saucily parry: "How do you feel, Lu darling?"
"F-fine, th ... thank you. Elinor's already left her maid said she went to meet Cash. And the cook is fixing breakfast for us both."
"Great! I'm starved, aren't you? I always am after--you know."
Luana felt as if she were blushing from head to toe. And Carla's impish flaunting of her exquisite body didn't ease the situation one little bit. Seeing the blonde's confusion, Carla laughed softly. "Why, Lu, you'd think you were the one without clothes, not me. Look at how you're blushing, darling!" Then, her voice very husky, she came swiftly to Luana, linked her slim bare arms round the blonde's waist and nuzzled her lips against Luana's trembling mouth, murmuring "It was wonderful, wasn't it, Lu, sweetheart?"
In all honesty, Luana, distracted though she was, quivered and stammered, "I-yes-now please go dress. I've got to get home, and I'll drop you off in a cab."
"All right," Carla pouted like a pretty child, "whatever you say, Big Sister. I'll go dress right now."
If the "Mad March Midnight" had been a night of destiny for Luana, it had been one of doldrums for her brother Don. He had come home that Friday afternoon with his first scholastic reports for the new semester. Edwin Matthews had demanded to see them as soon as he entered the house. And after one look, he had laid down the law to Don: no outings with Joe and Eddie except on Satudays after the job at the cleaner's was finished, and then home no later than ten-thirty. And Don was to phone him from whatever house he was visiting, first when he got there and then just before he was ready to leave for home. Also, he was to tell Eddie and Joe that they would not be welcome at the Matthews house on school nights under any circumstances. And finally, Don was to try to get his geometry teacher to let him take a makeup test the end of April to pull that disastrous grade up if he intended to go to college in the fall. And Edwin Matthews didn't want to hear those loud records blasting from Don's room at all hours; if Don forgot his hi-fi till school was over in June, it wouldn't do a bit of harm.
Back in his room, he viciously kicked his study table his face tight and pale, tears of self-pity beginning to sting his eyes. He'd show them all, treating him like that. He'd get a full-time job after graduation, earn his own living and have his own place where Eddie and Joe could visit whenever they darned pleased. He'd go riding with Eddie on that snappy Vespa out to Old Town and see some of the exciting places Eddie had told him about. Places where fellows with talent and sensitivity met for intellectual conversation and espresso and reading poetry and talking about things like Zen and yoga and existentialism, things that really mattered, not the silly routine of going to school and brushing your teeth and doing what the squares told you was right.
With the resigned sigh of a Christian martyr being led out to the torture stake, he sat down at the table and angrily slammed open his geometry book. His day would come. It just had to.
He finished studying about ten. He felt utterly miserable. Everything was going wrong. The new hi-fi set was farther off than ever. Mr. Caruso, his boss at the cleaner's shop, had told him that the manager was thinking of closing down this unit. Business had been falling off, and the chain was thinking of consolidating Don's unit with another farther northwest. In the meantime, Mr. Caruso said he could still come in Saturday afternoons and Thursdays, but that would be all for the time being. Naturally, as Don had been a good worker, he'd recommend him to the big boss when the new consolidation went through. But that probably wouldn't be till July or August. All of which meant a considerable slash in Don's spending money, since his father permitted him to keep and spend as he liked whatever money he'd been earning.
Just about everything was going wrong. But not for the Little Princess. She was out tonight with her girl friends. He wished he could be there. He'd like to swing a paddle on those silly girls and make them yowl for mercy. Girls got the best of everything. Their folks shelled out for snazzy new clothes all the time, gave them every break in curfew, let them do just about what they pleased. And here he was, darn near eighteen, treated like a kid and made to stay in his room and study on a Friday night!
He washed and got ready for bed. Then, out of force of habit, he climbed onto the chest of drawers and peeked through the crack. The room was dark. Luana wasn't home yet. Affairs like that wound up late. It might be two or three in the morning before she came home. Yes, girls had all the luck. He could just see himself being allowed to stay out that late with Joe and Eddie....
Luana got home about noon Saturday, just in time to have lunch with her parents and Don out in the kitchen. Don mumbled something about wanting to get to the cleaner's shop early, and left a few minutes later. Edwin Matthews shook his head. "I don't know what's got into that boy lately," he looked over at Corinne for confirmation. "The last year, he's letting everything except his personal hobbies slide. Schoolwork, manners, even communications with his family. He's turning into a sullen delinquent."
"Edwin!" Corinne Matthews protested.
"Well, he is," Edwin got up from the table, shook his head. "He's becoming a loner. Look at how few friends he has, just those two, Joe and Eddie. And I'm not so sure they're the best influence on him. Ever since he started getting thick with those two, he's been unrecognizable. I've already cut him down to Saturdays with them, Corinne. And if he doesn't do well in that makeup geometry test next month, I might be even more drastic."
"Edwin, he's just going through an adolescent stage. All boys his age do."
"I know about adolescence. But I don't agree that all boys go through the stage he's taking, Corinne. At his age, I had a steady girl and was working hard in school so I'd keep my dating privileges, you can bet. And that's another thing. Don hasn't once shown the least interest in girls."
"Sometimes boys don't for quite a while, especially if they have sisters at home in the limelight," Corinne Matthews said with an unusual flash of insight. "Call it jealousy or whatever you like, but that might have something to do with it."
"Nonsense! Luana's not in the limelight-are you, baby?" Matthews looked affectionately over at his daughter, who flushed and took up her coffee cup to sip it and thus avoid getting involved in another of her father's lengthy dissertations on modern behavior patterns of the younger generation.
"Now don't be getting upset, Edwin," his wife placated, "give the boy another year. When he gets to college, he'll have new interests. I don't think Joe or Eddie will go on to college, so he'll be free of their influence by then."
"And a good thing too, if you want my opinion. Well, now, let's change the subject to something more cheerful. How did the initiation go, Luana, baby?"
"All right, Dad. I-we had twelve pledges and they took them one by one. That's why it was so late when we finished, and I thought it was better to stay at Elinor's house."
"I'm glad you did, baby." Matthews' twinkling blue eyes warmed at the sight of his blonde daughter. For him, even at twenty, she was still the baby of the family. He had always been fond of her, because she was his first and because she'd never given him any problems all these years. He only wished Don could straighten out. It would make it a family that would be everything any father could want.
Later that afternoon, Phil called. He asked for Luana for a date for that night, and she accepted. It was with a sense of almost joyous relief. Now she could make amends for their misunderstanding. She understood herself better now-after what had happened last night. She too had impulses, just as he had, and so she couldn't blame him any longer for wanting to fulfill them. Because he was paying her the compliment of wanting her, not just any girl. He could easily have dated half a dozen girls at school who'd be eager and willing to show their gratitude for his attention, girls who wouldn't say no. But he hadn't asked them out, he'd come back to her, his fiancee....
Don decided that he'd better cool Dad's mad off. He could have gone over to Eddie's that night, because Eddie had phoned just after Phil had called Don's sister, to tell him he had a new stack of stereo platters. But the way Dad had been acting, it would be playing it smart to turn Eddie down this time. And he made a particular point of telling his father what he'd done, explaining that he figured it was better to brush up in his studies. Edwin Matthews had beamed and nodded. "That's the kind of sound thinking I like, Don. I don't mean to ride you into the ground, son. It's just that you've got a real potential, and I want you to live up to it."
"Sure, Dad, sure. I understand."
"Hit the books for a few weeks, son, and you'll be surprised what improvement your grades will show. And if they do, well, we'll see if you can't have a little more liberty. This isn't a jail, son, it's your home. And you can't blame me for wanting to get you to do your level best."
"No, sir."
"Tell you what. If you like, when you've finished with the books, why not treat yourself to a movie on me?" Matthews reached into his trouser pocket, took out a wallet and extracted a dollar. "There. You see, my bark's worse than my bite, eh, Don?"
"Sure, Dad. Thanks. Thanks a lot." He'd gone back upstairs, trying not to laugh in Dad's face. Big deal. Buying him off for a lousy buck, when he was going to lose at least ten bucks a week because Mr. Caruso was cutting his hours of after-school work. He just had to make some real dough fast, or he'd never get the hi-fi stuff he wanted.
Even Saturday, Mr. Caruso had only let him work from one till four, instead of from twelve-thirty to five-thirty. Right there was two and a half bucks cut off at the source. No, there had to be a quicker way to make money. If only he could invent something, like that Junior Achievement genius he'd read about in last Sunday's Sun-Times, organizing a group of babysitters in the suburbs and booking them like an employment agency. The guy'd made a pile in just six months.
Well, he'd finished his schoolwork for all the following week, that was one good thing. Sunday he could sleep late and loaf around. It looked like a cold, rainy weekend without any letup. At least Eddie wouldn't be riding his Vespa. Some guys had all the luck, like Joe and his old-maid aunts who thought Joe could do no wrong and never said a word about the hours he kept or the places he went. Joe had some weird ideas about sex, too. But they were exciting, just the same. Joe had told him that one of these days he was going to let him in on how to really have fun without bothering around with stupid, man-crazy girls. Joe had said, too, that there were times when, if you found exactly the right type of girl, she could give you more of a thrill than the regular way. He wondered what Joe meant. Joe had read a lot of books they sold under the counters in certain stores on the North Side. A fat chance he'd have of keeping anything like that in his room. Mom was forever messing around the drawers to see that he kept his clothes neatly stored away. But she never bothered with Luana. That was why Luana could hide a diary and not have Mom or Dad find out about it. What a laugh on her, though, thinking she was the only one who read it.
Hey, now. Last night they'd had that initiation for the new pledges. Bet Luana wrote down all the gory details. That ought to be fun reading. And she'd be out late tonight with her football hero. Maybe she was going to patch things up. From what he'd last read, she'd have to let Phil into her panties to do it, and he didn't figure the Little Princess would go that far. Sis wanted to wait till she got married. Well, that was her business. Meanwhile, it would kill some time to see what she'd had to say about last night. Girls sure were catty, gossiping about one another. Not like fellows. They could keep secrets, the way Joe and Eddie did.
Mom and Dad would be watching TV all night long. News, and then Perry Mason and then a fairly new John Wayne movie. He'd be all to himself upstairs. He could take Luana's diary into his room and read it without worrying about her coming home too early. And by Monday, there'd be a new, spicy entry in that thick book, all about her date with Phil. He wondered if Phil would try to go even farther than he had that night they'd had their little breakup. Boy, if he'd been Phil, he wouldn't have let the Little Princess get away with murder the way she had.
He waited in the hallway, making sure the TV was booming and that no other sound was coming from the living room. He'd seen them settle into their chairs. They'd watch straight on through. About nine o'clock, Dad would get up and go to the kitchen and fix a snack. But he'd have Luana's diary read and back in place long before then. Now to get it.
He was careful to notice exactly how she'd replaced it. This time, it was between the next to last and last slips in the pile on the left in the drawer. He would remember that, and just how far in between them she'd wedged it. That way, when she went to get it again, she'd never notice it had been taken out and put back, not if it was in exactly the same place she'd left it.
He went back to his room and closed the door. One good thing about Mom and Dad, they always knocked before they came in whenever he had the door closed. That would give him plenty of warning in case he was still reading the diary. Now let's see-wait, maybe she hadn't had time to put down what happened last night. She'd come home at noon and gone out around six. Maybe No, there it was. About four pages, too, in that fine, fancy script of hers. She had a much fancier handwriting than he did, and for sure it was easier to read. Twelve pledges got the works ... hmm ... paddling, shampooing, branding, then drinking a toast. That was pretty rugged for a place like McDougal. Bet the deans didn't know what was going on. Hazing was supposed to be banned these days. And then-hey, here was something. Wow! This Carla broad, and how Elinor Darby had paid her off for playing up to her guy. Had her tied down and raped-boy-oh-boy, info like this ought to be valuable to somebody-wait a minute the broad actually liked it! Said she wouldn't snitch to the authorities. And of course the Little Princess felt just awful that she had to be around-what was this?
His eyes dilating with excitement, Don Matthews gripped the diary with both hands, staring avidly at the elegant blue script that covered the pages:
I comforted Carla the best I could. But the strangest thing was, she didn't seem to mind at all. She said she'd secretly always wanted to know what it was like with a fellow. I decided, in view of what had happened and because it was so late and such rotten weather, that we'd spend the night together. Elinor had gone down the hall to sleep in her father's room-I didn't want to see her again tonight, not after the horribly cruel way she'd taken out her spite on poor little Carla. I got undressed and went to bed. And then....
Dear Diary, I don't exactly know how to explain what happened then. We were smoking cigarettes and I'd reached over to put mine out when all of a sudden Carla grabbed me and kissed me and said she'd wished I had been the one who'd been in bed making love to her. I was just absolutly flabbergasted. And it was embarrassing the way she held me against her, because she was naked and didn't seem to care at all. And she started to kiss me and stroke me, and she told me I really wanted to be loved and was afraid of it. And before I knew what I was doing, I'd begun to kiss her back and to-to touch her, as she was touching me. She had such a beautiful, slim body, and it was so tender and sweet. And I felt, in spite of myself, that I was getting just as excited as when Phil used to neck and pet on our dates. Before I could do anything about it-we were holding each other like lovers. And it was beautiful and exciting, and I can't explain it, but I didn't feel ashamed. I'm not sure even now that I do. Because maybe Carla was right, about my being passionate and needing love. And if I wouldn't let Phil love me and got angry with him because he tried, then I don't have any business condemning either Carla or him after the way I acted with her. I want to see Phil again and make it up with him, because I understand him better now. And I understand myself lots better too.
Don emitted a low whistle. Then he closed the book and snapped the catch back in place, his lips twisted in a crooked, knowing, little smile. All of a sudden he wasn't worried about Mr. Caruso's cutting down his working hours. He had a hunch he was going to come into some real money before very much longer. Money that wouldn't involve any hard work at all, just keeping his mouth shut about certain things to certain people.
CHAPTER EIGHT
"It's just marvelous that all three of you are A in town. What wonderful times we'll have!" Carla Dornell, eyes shining, hugged the knees of her gleaming, black-satin toreador pants. She leaned forward in the big, comfortable armchair of Aunt Madge's living room, across from the wide davenport on which Edna Marlowe, Dale Hoff and Bonnie Savage sat smiling back at her. It was Sunday afternoon and Aunt Madge had gone out with her newest boy friend. They seemed to have quite a crush on each other, and only last night Aunt Madge had ecstatically hinted that maybe one of these days Carla would have a new uncle. It was just dandy with Carla. This affair had made a changed woman out of her aunt. Now she wouldn't have to worry so much about toeing the mark and not asking Aunt Madge for money for cute new things, like these slinky toreador pants. The fact of the matter was, Aunt Madge had actually picked them out for her two weeks ago. And now that Dolly's friends had unexpectedly come to Chicago all at once, with Aunt Madge out a lot of the time, they'd be able to have the fun they'd had back in Louisville. Everything was working out just fine.
Dolly Janes herself wouldn't be coming to Chicago. Edna had just told her the awful news about poor Dolly. She had lined things up for all of them in Chicago and then gone down to Atlanta to keep a date with a forty-year-old society woman who had been a preferred customer of hers for several years. And the woman's husband had come back from out of town two days earlier than scheduled, walked in on both of them making love in his bed, and shot and killed them both, then committed suicide. It was just dreadful. Carla had cried a little, because Dolly had been the one who'd taught her the sweetness of woman-love. But, as if fate were going to make that up to her, Edna, Dale and Bonnie had decided to come on ahead and set up their racket in Chicago just as planned. And they'd found Carla's address from a letter she'd written to Dolly just after moving there.
"Where will you be staying?" Carla asked.
"We're at a motel downtown for the time being, honey," Dale Hoff replied. She was twenty-five, with dark-brown hair in an adolescent pony tail, a heartshaped face, big brown eyes, small ripe mouth with petulantly fuller upper lip, and a dainty snub nose. When she wore a short-skirted dress, usually with very short sleeves or none at all, and left all makeup off except eye-liner, she could easily pass for sixteen or seventeen. Her pale skin with girlish freckles on neck and cheeks, her small, apple-round breasts, very slim waist and boyishly compact hips and slim legs helped augment that illusion.
"Most likely we'll take an apartment on the Near North Side, though, Carla sweetie," Bonnie spoke up. "Dolly had this town pretty well cased. It'll be in a nice building, not one of the kind that keep call girls. The flatfooted boys are always checking up on newcomers in a place like that. Dolly wrote down exactly what joints to skip like poison, and we'll go by her say-so. She was a living doll and a smart operator, Carla. A dirty, stinking shame some stupid man had to do her in like that."
"Yes. I-I liked her so terribly."
"She liked you lots too, Carla baby," Bonnie smiled. She was twenty-four, auburn-haired, petite, with a vivacious smile and a soft, eager voice. She affected the helmet-style hairdo, wearing it very long at the neck, and often wore bobbysocks and loafers in her under-eighteen shakedown role. Bonnie's figure was on the plump side, but beautifully proportioned, with large, soft, round, widely spaced breasts, a surprisingly slim waist, and ample hips and thighs. But her use of high-school slang, her hairdo and attire enabled her to pull the statutory rape gag any time she wanted, once she set up her easy mark.
Bonnie had just come back from a highly profitable week in New York, and she had regaled Carla with a hilarious account of how she had bamboozled a rich college guy, got him in his hotel room and was peeled down to the buff and he was ready to score when she'd piped up in a thin, small voice: "Y-you won't get me into trouble now, will you, Paul darling? I-I'm only seventeen, and I never did anything like this before." Boy, had the guy turned white as the sheet on the fancy bed they were on, and hustled her out of there-not without first shelling out two juicy Cnotes to keep her from blabbing to the law. His dad was in New York on business and had brought him along. She'd picked him up in the hotel lobby and given him a real song and dance about being stranded in the big city and all that malarkey. He was about twenty-one or twenty-two, given her his right name you could always tell when a John was faking that kind of info. She'd been at the hotel two days watching for suckers besides fining two girlie dates with some of Dolly's rich housewife customers, and the kid had been giving her the eye every time he walked through the lobby. She'd had on a short skirt and bobbysocks and given him an eyeful. He'd told her he was from Chicago. But the chance of his ever seeing her again was just about nix in a town that size.
"Maybe you can help us out on some business, huh, Carla?" Edna purred. Edna was the sophisticate of the trio, with the air of a born dominatrit. Jet-black hair braided in a circle at the top of her head, almondshaped, green eyes, an aquiline nose with thin, supercilious wings, a prom thin-lipped mouth. About fivefeet-seven, with a svelte figure and mouthwateringly pale ivory skin. Edna was twenty-six, despised men, and most of her revenue came from the playing the stern tutor to masochistic and pampered society women, to whom she taught the lore of bondage and fetisishm. On occasion, Edna was not averse to accepting a date with a male masochist who yearned to be brutalized and spurned under her pencil-thin high heels and to feel her ivory-handles, purple-leather whip's kisses as he groveled under her feet. Edna had had two years of college and was indisputably the cultured lady of the trio. In her opinion, the more intellectual a man was, the more he secretly loved to be subjugated. Edna was still a virgin to the male; in high school, a boy friend had very nearly raped her, and she had been consoled by an attractive substitute teacher who had happened to be walking by, who took Edna to her apartment and there made love to her, thus initiating her into the raptures of Sappho. Every time she had a male customer under her spurning heels, she relived the terrible moments of that near-rape, and she flogged with pitiless, savage fury to the very blood.
"Sure," Bonnie chimed in with a sly wink at the redhead, "you're going to college, aren't you? There ought to be just lots 'n lots of horny college boys whose daddies are loaded enough to bail them out of hock when they get in trouble. College boys are cute, 'n Dale 'n me know just how to get them eating outa the palm of our hands, don't we, Dale, baby?"
"You said it in spades, Bonnie," Dale giggled. "How about it, Carla? You gonna tip us off to some hot prospects-the hotter the better, 'cause from what I hear, this new police superintendent they got in town is makin' life tough for B-girls and hustlers all around. When that happens in a town, the poor guys pay any old price just to get their wheels greased-if you know what I mean!"
"I suppose I could," Carla said doubtfully, pursing her lips and frowning with concentration. Then she brightened. "Hey-I think I got one for you. I've dated him, myself."
"Hey now, what gives with you, baby doll?" Dale purred, nudging Edna at her left. "Didja hear that, Edna? After the way poor Dolly and us learned you right, how come you're going the AC-DC route now? Don't you know men are just plain no good?"
Carla giggled, rocked back in her chair, drawing her knees up with her hands, and shook her coppery head. "Well, I wanted to find out for myself. The guy I'm dating is a real cutie-pie, and his dad's heeled. Big corporation lawyer."
"Oh oh," Edna spoke up, "lay off that kind, Dale and Bonnie. A lawyer's son's likely to know his rights better than you do and you might wind up in jail for extortion and blackmail. You'd never get away with yelling rape with a guy like that. Carla, you can do better than that for the girls, I'm sure. Just see if this boy friend of yours knows any big fraternity men on campus who like a little harmless fun they can't get in school. Or keep your own eyes peeled for them in your classes."
"I don't want to work the madam racket now, Edna," Carla declared primly. "I'm not arranging any dates, if that's what you mean. But what I will do is find out from my girl friends about guys who look for play for pay. Then you can make your own contacts with them once I find out who the guys are. I know a girl in my sociology class is dating a senior. They're going to be married in June when he graduates, but she won't go to bed with him till it's legal. And she knows he's getting it once in a while from a callgirl. She doesn't mind, not like she would if it were from some girl on campus."
"That figures," Edna drawled. "All right, honey, you do what you can for us all. We're in town to make a bundle and then head on out west to Vegas and L.A. But if things work out good here, we might be around four-five months."
"Wonderful! Then I'll get to see you lots!"
"Whenever you want, if we're not working, baby doll," Edna smiled. "But what's wrong with right now?"
"Nothing!" Carla's tongue moistened the corners of her soft mouth. "I know Aunt Madge won't be back for hours. And just seeing you three again has got me all hot and bothered."
"We can fix that, can't we?" Edna rose languidly, patting the back of her neck, and Dale and Bonnie gigglingly nodded as they stood up.
"My-my bedroom's this way-ooh, I can't wait-hurry, darlings," Carla breathed as she arched on tiptoes to hug Edna and press her humid mouth to the brunette's sensuous, thin lips.
Luana's date with Phil the night before had been uneventful. A quiet dinner at the Maison Michele on North Clark Street, where the beef cooked with burgundy and the chocolate mousse were memorable even for the most calorie-conscious young woman, and then dancing at a new discotheque on Walton Street. Phil held her very close, and Luana felt that she had made her peace with him. Too, she felt herself stirred by his male nearness and his embrace of her as they danced the latest steps, including the Watusi and the frug. Dances like that went a long way toward breaking down a certain coolness which Phil had maintained rather warily through the first part of the evening. And when he brought her home, they kissed and necked for about half an hour in the Rambler before, breathless, flushed and trembling, Luana reluctantly told him they'd better say good night right then and there.
"There you go again, Luana." Disgustedly, he moved away from her and got behind the wheel, "so far and no farther. If I didn't know you better, I'd call you a teaser."
"Phil Corcoran! That's a horrible thing to say to me! You apologize, or we shan't see each other again," the lovely blonde's eyes misted with sudden tears of chagrin.
"Aw, damn it, Lu, you know I didn't mean it," he groaned. "It's just that I've got to the point where I'm getting tired of going down the same dead-end street, that's all. You said yourself earlier tonight that you understood that a guy had feelings and that I'm not just on the make for you. I told you, we're going to get married, just as soon as I can figure out a way to pull my own weight with Dad. Sure, I could ask him for a handout right now, only I'm not about to. Another year, maybe, and I'll know enough about the operation to be worth a decent salary to him-the kind of salary that'll let me ask you to marry me. Can't you take my word for that, honey?"
She put a placating hand over his. "Of course I can, darling. But don't you see? I'm thinking about both of us. How could we have an affair now, even if I wanted to? I'd certainly never bring you to the house even if my folks were out, and I wouldn't want you to sneak me into yours-like that other time-"
His face reddened with anger. "I thought we'd agreed to let bygones be bygones."
"Of course we did, darling. And I told you before I'm not angry at you any more for-for wanting to make love to me. I know it's a compliment, and I love you and I want you to have me. But only when we can both be open and honest about it, and that can't be till we're man and wife."
"We could always go to a motel or-"
"No, Phil. I just won't be sneaky about love, or it's not love. It'd become something sly and dirty that way, hiding it from everybody. We'd both go into that kind of a thing feeling guilty in advance, and that's not my idea of real love. I-I know I-I'm not frigid-" her face crimsoned as she hastily searched for the right words, remembering only too well the incredible wakening which Carla had procured for her-"and I want just as much as you do to be able to prove it to you-on our wedding night."
Phil was slightly mollified by this sincere avowal. "I guess it is tough on both of us, sweetheart. It wouldn't be if I really didn't love you, you know that."
"Of course I do, Phil. Maybe it'll work out. I don't want to wait any longer than you do. After all," she gave him a flirtatious wink, "you might just decide to find another girl, and I'd have wasted my three years' investment."
"No chance of that, honey. You're still the only one I want. Next Saturday then-hey, I just remembered. Dad gave me two tickets to a new musical at the Blackstone. It's for the matinee. How about taking it in with me? Then I'll drive you back here to doll up and we'll go to the Edgewater Beach for a fancy dinner."
"Sounds grand, Phil. And it's a date. I love you." She leaned to him, offering her lips, her eyes soft with affection. He was really a wonderful guy. And she knew he'd been really decent about their problem. So many other fellows would have got their pleasure elsewhere, even with a pro. If Phil was willing to wait for her, he deserved her. She only hoped it wouldn't be too long before she could deserve him too.
That next Thursday, Edwin and Corinne Matthews got a telegram from Davenport, Iowa that was to set the wheels in motion for a completely unexpected direction to the lives of their daughter and son, as well as to those of the latters' closest friends. Corinne's sister's husband had been killed in a car crash, together with their five-year-old son. Emma Arniston, numbed by the sudden tragedy, had wired her sister imploring her to come down and help her readjust her life. Corinne hadn't seen Emma in ten years, except one summer when Harry Arniston and Emma had driven through Chicago on a vacation trip. Harry had been the sales manager of a tractor firm and his death would not leave Emma in economic straits. But Emma had loved him dearly, and the blow of losing not only him but also her youngest child-she had a girl of thirteen and another boy of sixteen-was bitterly cruel. Corinne asked her husband to go along and do whatever he could in making funeral arrangements and taking care of those other innumerable details which are imperative and yet seem so unnecessarily burdensome at such a time.
The Matthewses flew out to Davenport early Thursday evening. They had told Luana and Don that they probably wouldn't be back for a week. Don could hardly conceal his anticipation-now he could cut loose and see Joe and Eddie. There was lots of catching up to do. Edwin Matthews, aware that his son had been rather harshly restricted of late and that an uncomfortable breach had been raised in their rapport, told Don he'd put him on his honor. If Don's schoolwork was done, he could visit Joe and Eddie over the weekend. However, he didn't especially want to have the boys over at the house. Don eagerly promised he'd do what his father wished. And hardly had his parents left for the airport when he was on the phone to both of his friends, asking if he could see them Friday night. He could hardly wait till then. Joe had told him he was gong to let Don in on some of the new books and magazines he'd got from that bald old book dealer over on Howard Street. And in turn, he'd told Joe he had some really hot news about his sister-all the details of a real secret initiation, sizzling stuff. And Eddie had told him that maybe he'd take him on a ride on his Vespa if the weather stayed okay. Boy, this was going to be a real weekend for a change!
On Friday night, Luana heard the phone ring as she was washing dishes in the kitchen, after having prepared a simple supper for Don and herself. Don had torn out of the house to see his friends as soon as he'd bolted down the beef stew and salad and chocolate pudding. Nor had he bothered to comment one way or the other about his sister's domestic talents. But then Luana hadn't expected anything. It was strange, she thought, that you could be related by blood to someone, live in the same house with them for years, and yet be almost total strangers. At least, Don's usually surly and introspective manner seemed to have brightened now that he was getting the chance to visit those two pals of his. And that was a welcome relief from his customary sneaky, silent behavior. It was wrong of her to have such notions about her own brother, but she couldn't help it. Even if he'd never really got into any trouble, there was just something about his makeup that made her uneasy. Most likely it was his moroseness, and the feeling she got when he was around that he was inwardly sneering at her and thinking thoughts about you that you'd just as soon not want to know about.
"Hello, this is the Matthews house," she answered the phone out of breath, having been busy wiping the big service platter when the phone had first started to ring.
"Luana?"
"Yes, this is she."
"Oh, good! This is Carla. Carla Dornell."
"Oh-hi, Carla. I've been wondering how you were."
"Couldn't be better, Luana-honey. Some dear friends of mine from Louisville, where I used to live, came to town and are staying for a while."
"That's nice for you."
"Uh-huh. Luana-I was wondering if you'd like to come to a party at my house tomorrow night. They'll be here. You'll like them-they're wonderful girls. I could even fix dinner-"
"Oh, I'm sorry, Carla. I've got a date with my fiance. We're going to a musical in the afternoon and probably have dinner out. But thanks anyway. Maybe some other time."
"Oh, that's a shame, Luana. I had hoped so you could come. You know where my aunt's house is, don't you?"
"Oh, sure. You gave me the address when I dropped you off in the cab I was taking home after the-" she hesitated, remembering what had happened that Friday night.
"After Elinor Darby arranged that special test for me, huh?" Carla giggled. "Tell you what-if you should change your mind, or anything happens and you've got some time tomorrow night, come on over anyway. My girl friends want to meet you. I told them all about how nice you've been to me at college and how you stuck up for me as my Big Sister."
"That's very nice of you, Carla. But I really don't think I can make it at all tomorrow night. Maybe we can get together later on. Do call me again, won't you?"
"Sure, honey. I want to see you. I like you a lot."
"T-that's very flattering, Carla. Thanks so much for inviting me. We'll be in touch. I'll probably see you on campus. Well, I'd better get back to my dishes."
"Well, if you do come over, I promise you won't have to wash the dishes. We'll show you some real entertainment, Lu honey. 'Bye now." Carla giggled again, and rang off.
"Hi, Don. Gee, we'd about given you up for dead," Joe Maxon swung open the front door. "C'mon in. Eddie's here 'n my aunts went downtown to see the movie at the Oriental. We got the cotton-pickin' place to ourselves."
Don grinned, nodded and entered. Joe Maxon lived in a big, old, brown-brick, one-story house on Ashland near Bryn Mawr. It was a quiet residential neighborhood, and that suited his old-maid aunts just fine. It suited Joe, too, because they left him pretty much to himself, and as long as he brought fair report cards back from high school, they didn't bother him much. Nothing like the way Don's folks were always picking on him.
Joe's room was the biggest in the house, right off the living room. The aunts had the other big bedroom near the kitchen out in back. And they liked music, so they never yelled at Joe to turn the volume down when he was playing a Tschaikowsky symphony or even Grofe's Grand Canyon Suite. Boy, his system was real neat. You could hear the kettledrums roll out the thunder in the storm section of that Grofe thing on his speakers.
Joe was wearing slacks and a blue T-shirt. His face was noticeably flushed, and as he led the way to his room, he glanced back at Don and sniggered, "Betcher sure glad to shake the dust off that mothball dump o' yers, Don. Eddie 'n me was just starting to look at the new books I got. Real hot stuff."
"Don't your aunts ever go through your room?"
"I'd like to see 'em try," Joe defiantly declared. "Naw, I gotta hand it to the old gals, they're pretty good eggs, they don't bother me none at all, long as I keep up my grades. Hey, Eddie, here's Don."
Eddie Perkins was Don's age, give or take a month. He was six feet tall, wore horn-rimmed glasses, had curly, black hair and unhealthily pale skin, blotched at chin and forehead by acne. He was stoop-shouldered and hollow-chested. At school he was known as a "greasy grind," but the fact that he owned a Vespa somewhat elevated him in the critical opinions of his classmates. His father had died when he was six, and his mother had remarried. His stepfather was a direct opposite: a philanderer, a drinker and a devotee of high-stake poker, whereas his father had been a quiet, uncommunicative though devoted husband. Also, his stepfather traveled three weeks out of every month as a district manager for a merchandising consultant firm, while his father had been a high-school teacher whose notion of a wild night was sitting at home correcting compositions while listening to FM. And his mother let Eddie have his own way because he was her only child. She had bought him the Vespa herself, with her own money. After the disillusionment of finding out that her second husband was a chaser, her devotion to her son, who never bothered with girls, seemed to have increased. Eddie, like Joe, had it made, so far as Don was enviously concerned.
"About time you made it over here, Don." He greeted Don with a languid wave of his hand. He was sitting on the floor, tailor-fashion, head tilted back, a dreamy look on his face as he listened to the finale of Ravel's Daphnis et Chloe. Don recognized it as the Victor recording with Munch conducting. It, too, was one of his favorites. And that wordless chorus at the end, that was just hair-raising. Boy, listen to those flutes-not a blur and no peak in the amplifier, you could tell. That was the sort of system he needed for his room. And maybe he'd found the way to raise the dough for it, too. At least, he'd talk the idea over with Joe and Eddie.
Joe closed the door, then turned the key. "Just in case," he chuckled, with a lewd wink. Then he went to a writing desk in the corner near the chest of drawers, pulled open the middle drawer, and took out three paperback books. Each of them had a lurid cover, cheaply printed with a sleazy multicolor process, but the subject matter was what mattered, not precise engraving. Besides, the cover illustrations gave you the idea right off. One of the books was called Delilah Dominates. It showed a beautiful, haughty-featured, raven-haired Amazon in high-heeled boots and leather uniform posing her heel on the back of a man crouching at her feet.
"Here. Take a gander at these, Don boy," he swaggered over to Don.
"Aw. Dames. You know I don't care about 'em."
"No, no, this is different. Eddie knows, don'tcha, Eddie boy?"
"Uh-huh," Eddie contributed without opening his eyes, as he used a stubby-nailed forefinger to help Munch conduct the coda.
"How's this different? It shows a dame stepping all over a guy. Don'tcha think I get enough of that at home, Joe?" Don's voice took on a plaintive whine. "My Mom and the Little Princess-boy, if that's what dames are like, no wonder I don't want anv part of them."
"No, but you never read Venus in Furs, didja, Don?" Joe persisted. "Boy, it's terrific. Take a look that's the second book there."
Don sat down in an overstuffed armchair, frowning as he leafed through the three paperbacks. The second was Venus in Furs; the third, entitled Submission to Satana, showed a handsome young man wearing only an athletic supporter, bound on his back on a long wooden bench, wrists and ankles corded under the bench, his face adoringly staring up at a masked, full-bosomed blonde in a black-rubber, one-piece costume and thighlength, pencil-thin-heeled boots. The object of his desires was smiling cruelly at him, showing strong, white teeth, and her right hand thrust out the stiff leather handle of a whip toward his loins.
"Gee!" Don breathed, his face reddening.
"Yeah-now you see what I mean, kiddo," Joe winked. The record had ended, and Eddie got up to play it over. A changer would have done that for him, but anybody who knew anything about stereo knew that a manual turntable preserved your lps, and the arm and pickup tracked those tiny grooves a lot more accurately than any changer arm could do. Joe had an "Audio Troubadour," and it was pretty darn good.
"But I don't exactly get the pitch," Don was puzzled as he flipped through the pages, pausing at every picture, his frown deepening.
"Oh, cripes, Don-wake up and live for a change. You know darn well we three guys don't want to go the regular route with a broad. It's messy, and you might pick up a dose or get her in trouble. All a guy wants is-you know. Relief. Well, sure, but suppose you had a smart doll that didn't go to bed with you, but played and teased you-like in that picture of the guy tied to that bench. It's called, 'the bench of Tantalus.' You remember who Tantalus was from your mythology, don'tcha, Don?"
"Sure, sure. He was tied up so he couldn't get to the water or the grapes when he was dying of starvation and thirst."
"That's the guy. Well, that's the idea of the guy on the bench, too. He's hot and dying for it, but this broad's got him tied down and she dominates him and keeps him on edge and uses her whip or her foot or her gloved hand-know what I mean?"
"Jeez!" Don breathed as a flaming new world of lascivious torment was suddenly opened by Joe's sly description.
"Boy, what I wouldn't give to find a broad like that Satana-that's the babe with the whip there," Eddie suddenly spoke up, his eyes wide and glassy. He was no longer conducting the record; his hand had disappeared from view, and he had clenched his legs together as tightly as he could. The cords of his scrawny neck stood out with convulsive jerks, and now tiny, inarticulate moans began to edge from between his thin lips.
"There must be dames around who are like that," Joe said, his voice soft and husky. "Not just the tramps that hustle on Clark Street, either. These broads have class. Prob'ly charge plenty, too. You couldn't take a broad from school where we are 'n' train her, though. She wouldn't have the brains or the feeling for it. You gotta find a born dominatress-that's what the books say."
"I never met any girl like that, that's for sure," Don admitted, his voice uneven. His eyes were still avidly fixed on the cover of Submission to Satana.
"Maybe we never will, any of US, But we can keep lookin'-sometimes you can tell 'em by what they're wearing. Like these broads in the books-black leather, long gloves, boots or real narrow, long, highheeled pumps. Now if I met a broad like that, I'd let her do whatever she wanted. Mmm!" He rolled his eyes, conjuring up lewd imagery. Don, absorbing it in fancy, shivered with a mounting enervation.
"'Course, that sister of yours isn't a broad like Satana, I don't guess," Joe smirked.
"Naw, she's got that boy friend o' hers, Phil Corcoran."
"Think she's puttin' out to him?" Joe licked his lips, walking over to the chair where Don sat, leaning over him to stare down at the cover of the book which had drawn his friend's almost hypnotized attention.
Don looked up, his cheeks hotly reddening. "Not Lu. I know. But I know somethin' else."
"Dish the dirt, kiddo!"
"She keeps a diary, see? I get a chance to sneak a look once in a while," Don boasted, eager for acceptance as a person of iconoclastic initiative among these his best and only friends. "They've been engaged just a couple of weeks after goin' steady three years. And Phil's getting anxious for it. Only Lu won't give till she gets married. But she's not so lillywhite pure, the Little Princess."
"Whaddya mean, Don?" Joe's hand grasped Don's shoulder, the fingers strangely gentle.
"Well, she's a bigwig in that sorority she belongs to at McDougal, see? So they had an initiation of some new gals coupla weeks ago. And one of the newies was a dish by the name of Carla. A slinky redhead. She's been making a play for the sorority president's steady boy friend. So she got the works-and something else they don't usually do at a shindig like that."
Now the Dance of the Warriors rose to a crescendo midway through, and Eddie, rocking back and forth, uttered a choking cry and flung himself onto his side, face twisted and perspiring.
Joe's fingers crept under Don's sports shirt, stroking the long, thin neck. "What was it, Don, huh?"
Don squirmed in the chair, a silly grin on his flushed face. "Well, from what Luana says in the diary, this Elinor Darby-she's the sorority boss-had a guy hiding in her closet and she had this Carla tied and blindfolded on her bed, then let the guy come out and give it to her."
"Wow! She could get kicked outa college for that and maybe go to jail-"
Don shook his head. "U-huh. You don't get it yet, Joe. Funny thing, this Carla broad liked it. She told Lu she did. And the two of them went to bed together right in Elinor's house."
"Well?"
"Don'tcha get it, Joe? I said, 'went to bed together'-and that means they had fun. The kind girls have with themselves, see?"
"Holy cripes!" Joe whistled, eyes widening. "So your sis's a dyke, huh?"
"A what?" Don had never heard the term before.
"A dyke, I said. That's a girl gets her kicks playing with her own kind, see? Just like fruit or a gay boy or a fag's a man who has his fun with men."
"Nobody better call us that, Joe!" Don sat up straight, eyes angrily alight.
"Calm down, Donnie boy, I was just tellin' ya what other people call 'em. Not us, no. We're just well, sorta different-and we're smarter than the poor saps that get thrown in the klink and beaten up, 'cause they go around in public lookin' for it. Eddie'n me, we keep to ourselves. It's more fun that way. It's just what you do when you're by yourself, Bonnie."
"Oh ... yeah. I see what you mean." Don was red to his ears, and shifted nervously in the armchair. "But what I'm gettin' at is, if my folks ever found out the Little Princess was a-what you said she was-I bet they'd whale hell outa her. She's got it comin', for my money. But, speaking of money, maybe she'd pay me off good to keep my mouth shut to the folks. Then I could get those neat Jensen speakers. Betcha that it'd sound just as good on my system then as it does on yours, Joe."
"Could be. This Carla sounds like a hot broad, though. Any chance o' your meetin' her?"
Don shrugged. "Prob'ly not. She's never come out to the house, and she goes to college, only she's a freshman an' Lu's a senior."
"Maybe your sister'll bring her to the house, or go to see her at her place."
"Maybe."
"Whyn't you keep your eyes open and watch 'n see what happens?"
"Sure, Joe."
Eddie had disappeared into the bathroom, and now returned, face serene and languid. "Want to ride on my Vespa tomorrow, Don?" he proffered.
"I sure would."
"Well, I'm gonna go out to see Ken Frawley in Skokie right after lunch. Then I'll gas up and come back and pick you up around five-thirty, maybe. We can have half an hour or so. Whatcha gonna do tomorrow night?"
"I'd sure like to be with you guys," Don said eagerly.
"I'll have my aunts fix us some chow when you two get back from your ride," Joe volunteered. "Then we can play some new platters 'n' chew the fat 'n' look at some o' my cartoon series. I sent to Los Angeles for some real terrific pictures. They're like cartoons, see, only the artist sure draws those slinky gals in leather'n rubber like they could speak out and crack a whip atcha, boy!"
"Boy-oh-boy," Don enthused. "I'll make it. My folks won't be back till late next week."
"Maybe," Joe intimated with a lewd wink, "you might even run into a dish like that Satana by then. Boy, wouldn't that be somethin', huh?"
Saturday, the next to last day of March, was unseasonably warm and sunny. It couldn't have been better weather for Don's long-awaited ride on the back of Eddie's neat little Vespa. And Mr. Caruso suddenly had a change of heart and phoned Don that morning to ask if he could work from noon till five. There'd been a sudden upsurge in the cleaning business that week. Five hours at a buck and a quarter per was six and a quarter, a good start toward saving for one of those Jensen speakers. The rest--well, maybe the Little Princess would help out. He knew Luana got a regular allowance from Dad, and she'd salted away several hundred bucks in a bank account. He knew, because he had once found the bank book lying on top of her dresser.
The musical was enjoyable, and it let out at fourthirty. Phil had worn a tux because he was going to take her out dining and dancing at the Edgewater Beach that evening. And she was glad he'd made the suggestion about taking her home to change, because the warmth of the afternoon would have made her rather heavy, green satin evening gown, the one really decent formal dress she had, just a little too uncomfortable to wear through the show.
They drove up to the Matthews house in Phil's Rambler at about twenty after five. Don hadn't come home yet from the cleaner's shop. She invited Phil in, asked if he'd like a cup of coffee while he waited for her to change, showed him the most comfortable chair in the living room, brought him the coffee and gave him a quick kiss to flavor it, then hurried upstairs.
Phil sipped the coffee, his forehead furrowed with thought. He'd had a chat with his dad the night before, and he'd let it slip that he wanted to get married to Luana just as soon as he could. And the program of a good three years of apprenticeship before he was ready to take over as Kenneth Corcoran's right-hand man seemed as far off as the millenium right now, the way Luana had been holding him off.
His father had been very fair about it all. He'd said he thought Phil was still a bit too young to think about taking on a wife, but that he certainly approved of Phil's choice, from all he'd heard. But if that was the way he really felt, his father would try him out as a salesman this fall. If he showed anything at all after three months, he'd be put on base salary and commission. He could spend two evenings a week in the service shop, and another going over the books, learning about credit and dealer markup and the policy on trade-ins. And if by next June Phil showed the stuff, then he'd be paid $100 a week and he'd be pushed along as fast as he warranted it.
That meant about fourteen months, and by then he could marry Luana. He was sure they could live on that money. And maybe Luana would even want to get a part-time job, so they could be absolutely independent. He'd told his father he didn't want any help, he wanted to do it on his own. And that had been the right thing to say, too.
Fourteen months was a darn long time to wait for a boy in love with a girl who looked so goslidarned lovely every time he went out with her that it was all he could do to remember she was a decent girl and not a floozie you could maul around whenever you wanted to. But it was a lot better than waiting three more years.
He put down his coffee cup. He was going to tell Luana about his father's offer. He'd kept it to himself so far; maybe the good news would make things easier between them. Maybe even She'd be in her room right now, taking off that cute cotton print and getting into her formal. He was alone with her, the first time he'd ever been alone with her in her own house. Her parents were out of town. Her kid brother wasn't around. There was a certain excitement to being alone with your best girl in her own house, when you knew you wouldn't be bothered by anybody else. Just the two of you.
He walked quickly up the stairs and turned down the hall. He glanced quickly at the open door to his right-it was Don's room and nobody was in it. The next room, with the door closed, must be Luana's. He could feel his heart quickening its beat, feel the warm, slowly stirring blood throb in his stomach, lowering till he felt the almost agonizing ache of desire-a desire the significance and goal of which he now recognized with a torturing awareness. It was for Luana, not just smooching or the kid stuff of necking and petting. But making love as a man and woman did. As a husband and wife did. And now, now that they'd made up after that quarrel, now that she'd as much as told him she knew what wanting him was, now with the good news he had to tell her, maybe she'd His hand was trembling as he turned the knob and entered. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn't help himself-she was so lovely, and they were engaged, and she was the only girl he ever wanted He stopped short, his mouth dropping, his eyes widening. Luana stood with her back to him, rummaging in her dresser for a slip. She had on just her strapless white silk bra and brief matching panties, and he could see the thin, taut tabs of a narrow garter belt pressing along her lithe, smoothly curved thighs to catch hold of sheer, smoke-hued nylons. The glossy pink sheen of her bare back and shoulders, the breathtaking swell of her buttocks so snugly caressed by those frail panties, made him dig his nails into his palms....
Don glanced at his watch as he ran up the steps of the house. It was five-twenty-eight. That meant Edde would be buzzing along on the Vespa any minute now. Don had worked hard and Mr. Caruso had said some nice things. Maybe he'd get two afternoons a week and a five-hour shift on Saturday. Mr. Caruso was going to ask the big boss. Of course, it would still take a while before he could save up enough for all the hi-fi stuff he needed. But he wasn't worrying. Luana would come across with the rest of it. He'd pick the right time to tip her off what he knew about her being a dyke. Dyke. That was a new word, an ugly one. Maybe not descriptive, but according to Joe, no decent girl would ever let herself be called that. And the folks thought the world of the Little Princess. She wouldn't want to see herself toppled from the pedestal they'd built for her. She'd come through, all right. After all, what was a couple hundred bucks to her when she was going to marry a guy whose dad was as flush as Phil's was? And if she backed off, he'd remind her that he could phone the dean and have them investigate the sorority and cause an awful stink. No, she wouldn't dare say no. And he'd have the dough before the folks got back home next week. , Hey, there was Phil's Rambler. The two of them must have come back so she could primp herself and doll all up to go out to some fancy spot for dinner. Hey-maybe they were even taking time out to do a little smooching. He'd let himself in with his key as quietly as he could. Maybe he'd get an eyeful.
No, there wasn't anybody in the living room. That meant they were upstairs in Luana's room. Hey now, how about that?
Very cautiously he went up the stairs, holding his breath. As he reached the landing, he saw that his sister's door was closed, but he heard voices. Swiftly he strode into his room, closed the door, and without bothering to take off his jacket, drew up the chair against the chest of drawers, hurriedly climbed to the top, and, crouching, peered through the crack. Then he had to clap his hand over his mouth to suppress the excited cry that was wrested from him by what was going on....
Instinctively, Luana had sensed the presence of an intruder, without seeing him. She whirled, and recoiled, a hand to her mouth, her eyes dilating.
"Phil Corcoran! That's a gentlemanly thing to do, I must say!"
"Lu darling-please-I-I had to come tell you what Dad said last night-it's about us-we-we can get married-maybe a year-not as long as we thought-Lu, don't get mad-you-you're so beautiful-I-I need you, Lu darling-please-" his voice broke with the furious emotions battling for supremacy within him, as he took a step forward, then another.
"You could have waited till I came downstairs, couldn't you? This is sneaky, Phil, and I don't appreci ate it, not one bit. You knew my folks were out, that I'd be alone-so you came up to get yourself a free peepshow, isn't that it?"
"No, damn it, that's not it at all!"
Her face was flooded with hot color as she stood, her back to the dresser, confronting him, her magnificent breasts erratically rising and falling, her hands reaching back on each side of her to grip the edge of the dresser, like an embattled Sabine virgin against the Roman hordes.
"Then what is it? No, don't tell me-I know. You want us to start that trial marriage idea of yours. That's what you meant, isn't it?"
"No, I said-will you listen to me for a second?"
"Maybe. If you'll go back downstairs and wait till I've finished dressing. And apologize to me first for coming in unannounced."
"Luana, what's so wrong on wanting to look at you and love you? Last night I talked things over with Dad and he's going to give me a chance to earn a decent salary inside of a year-then we can get married please-I need you, Luana, I'm not after any other girl just to-to go to bed with, you've got to believe that-it's you I want-is that wrong?"
His voice was agonizedly earnest, and the torture in his eyes was unmistakable. She might have given greater credence to his sincerity if he hadn't suddenly moved forward and grabbed her by the shoulders. She didn't stop to think that the sight of her proud young tits in their tight cuirass and the revelation of soft, pink, warm flesh would have goaded him to desperation.
"Let go of me, Phil! Stop it! Breaking in on me when I'm undressing and then trying to get me to do what you want isn't right, that's for sure!"
"I love you, Lu-damn it, don't you know that by now?" Frantically, as his fingers dug into her soft shoulders, he buried his mouth in the soft cleft of her heaving tits.
"You-you're hurting me-get out! I mean it! I'm not going out with you tonight. No, nor any other night, maybe. If this is the way you treat me after you promised to behave that last time, then I'm not sure I want to go on being engaged to you!"
He slowly raised his contorted face, his eyes angry and cold. "You mean that, don't you?"
"Yes. Now will you get out of here?"
His hands dropped to his sides as he straightened. He took several deep breaths to regain his control. Then he said sneeringly, "You know, Lu, I read a play by Jean Paul Sartre last term. Know what it was called? The Respectable Prostitute. Know what Sartre said? I'll tell you. He said that a woman who sells herself on the street is a helluva lot more honest and respectable than one of these prissy, virtuous broads who lead a guy on and tease him till he's about ready to explode and then tell him he can't go any farther."
Luana caught her breath, then slapped him with all her might across the mouth. "Now will you get out of here?" she demanded, her eyes glistening with angry trears.
"Gladly!"
He turned and went out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Luana buried her face in her hands and burst into convulsive, racking sobs. After a long moment, she turned and went to the closet, took out the green satin formal with its fitted slip sewn inside. Then, defiantly, she put it on and stepped into her black kid pumps. Then she appraised herself in the mirror. Next, going into the bathroom, she took a washcloth and dipped it into running cold water, patted her eyes till the tears and telltale red had disappeared. Then she put the harlequin glasses back on.
Again she studied herself in the mirror, then she nodded with satisfaction. As Don watched through the crack, she turned and left the room. He heard her go downstairs, just as the doorbell rang. It must be Eddie with his Vespa-he was late.
Hastily he clambered down from the chest, opened his door as quietly as he could, just in time to hear Luana say, "No, he's not in. I thought he'd be back by now from the cleaner's shop, but-"
"Hey, Eddie, is that you?" he called from the top of the landing.
Luana whirled, startled. "Don-I-I didn't know you were home, I didn't hear or see you-"
"I-I got home early, Sis. Took a nap," he flung out casually as he sauntered down the stairs. "Be right with ya, Eddie, okay?"
"Yeah. It's getting dark. Sorry I was late, but I stayed longer out at Skokie than I figgered. We better make it fast if you wanna ride."
"Excuse me, boys. I-I have to make a phone call," Luana stammered and left them. Don put a finger to his lips as he approached Eddie. "Keep it down, Eddie. Boy, did I catch some action just now-the Little Princess was in her room and her boy friend decides he'll come up and take a looksee. Finds her in her scanties-so he tries to make her-boy, did she tell him off. But now she's all dolled up 'n' goin' out ... whaddya say we follow her, jist to see where she's goin' after breakin' up with Phil, huh?"
"Yeah, that might be interesting at that," Eddie agreed with a knowing smirk.
"Tell ya what. Well go park down the block, see if she gets a cab or what. Then we'll stay behind her so she doesn't figger we're tailin' her, okay?"
"Yeah. I'll go move the vespa. You wait'n see if she calls a cab, huh? Then, when she's gone, I'll come back up here'n you git on fast so's we don't lose her."
"Great! Now beat it!"
Eddie sniggered, nodded and ran back down the walk to the curb where the Vespa stood. Scrambling on, he revved up the motor, made a wide U-turn in the empty street and veered off to the north. Don watched him, then turned back into the living room. Walking quietly to the door, he looked down the hallway. Yeah, Luana was still on the phone. Now she was dialing another number. He waited a minute, heard her hang up, then, sticking his hands into his trouser pockets, walked slowly back just as she came up beside him.
"Oh-Don-I--I'm going out. I just called a cab. Can you fix your own supper? There's stuff in the refrigerator-"
"I'll be okay, Sis. I'll be just fine. Eddie 'n' Joe 'n' me's gonna eat at Joe's place."
"Fine. Only-remember what Dad said, Don dear. Please don't stay out too late. You know he doesn't think those two are the best kind of influence on you."
His face was blandly masked as he retorted, "I can take care of things okay. I'm not as much of a kid as you think, Sis. Better go get your cab."
"All right. Have fun. I don't know when I'll be back."
"I'll have fun all right. I hope you do, too. But then, you always do, don't you?"
"I'm ever so glad you changed your mind and decided to come, Luana honey. Come on in. I want you to meet my best friends."
Carla's aunt had rented a modest little house on Sangamon Street, near Granville. It was in a very quiet, middle-class residential district, with some foreign groups, mainly Germans and Poles, who minded their own business. Edna had already remarked that a place like this would make an ideal hangout for select clients, and that if business went well in Chicago, she and the girls might just consider leasing in the area. There wasn't any heat on there, that was for sure, not like on the Near North and the Howard Street and far South Side, where the vice-squad boys were out in full force. One good thing about their particular profession was that the cops weren't so likely to suspect call-girls who serviced their own sex. If a handsomely dressed society woman was seen entering a house where women were staying, no one would think twice. But just let the boys in blue spot a procession of men, and the heat was on till it blistered.
"Th-thanks. I-I hope I didn't make ' you change your plans, by deciding to call so late," Luana faltered as Carla closed the door behind her. The pert redhead was in a black-satin bolero jacket which left her midriff provocatively bare, and a pair of matching black-satin toreador pants limned the svelte columns of her thighs and the saucy contours of hips and her ass. Thong sandals shod her dainty feet, and Luana's nostrils detected a curious melange of scents, some of which she couldn't identify. Carla had on Shalimar cologne, that much she could recognize, and there was cigarette smoke and liquor-the proof of which was a half-empty bottle of Chivas Regal on the buffet table near the wide, davenport on which two women sat, holding hands and eyeing her with interest. A third woman sprawled in the armchair across the room, wearing red-silk pajamas with black dragons sewn over the jacket, and high-heeled, red-leather pumps. She was petite and auburn-haired, and she wore her hair in helmet style.
"Girls, you've heard me talk about my ever-loving Big Sister at the sorority. This is Luana Matthews." Carla linked an arm round Luana's waist as she directed her to the davenport. "This is Dale Hoff," as the pony tailed brunette, who wore green satin shorts and white satin blouse with low-cut bodice, stood up to offer her hand.
"I'm pleased to meet you, Dale."
"Me too. Carla's told us so very much about you. You really went to bat for her at the initiation." Dale was holding Luana's hand and staring into her eyes with an affectionate smile.
"I ... I didn't want to see her get hurt because the president had it in for her." Luana embarrassedly freed her hand.
"And this is Edna Marlowe," Carla quickly chimed in, giving Dale an almost imperceptible shake of her head.
The brunette dominatress was breathtakingly impressive as she rose to acknowledge the introduction. She towered over Luana because she was wearing four-and-one-half-inch-heeled, black-leather pumps. And her lithe, voluptuous figure was vividly limned in a black leather dress reaching to her knees, and the bodice of which was boldly open down below the breasts, with a narrowed lattice-work of rawhide laces which exhibited her pale-ivory skin down to the navel. The inner curves of her high-set, narrowly spaced, hard, round tits were exposed, since the dress was held up by two narrow shoulder straps. At the back, it was cut down to the waist. She wore black leather gloves to match, gloves which rose to the suave curves of her upper arms. Gray nylons gauzily clung to her slim, high-set, sinuous calves. And the contrast between those boldly upstanding round love-cantaloupes and the startlingly slim wasp waist, the long slender thighs and calves, made her imperious stature seem still more dominant, still more insolently authoritative.
"I'm very glad to meet you, Miss Marlowe."
"And I you, Luana dear." Edna purred as both her black-gloved hands took Luana's, her almond-shaped green eyes narrowing as they contemplated the blonde's lovely, flushing face. "You've very striking features, if I may say so."
Her lips curled almost derisively as she saw the blushes deepen in Luana's cheeks. "And now you must meet Bonnie. Wouldn't you take her for a teen-age girl, Luana dear?"
Still holding Luana's hand with one of hers, Edna circled the blonde's shoulders with her other arm and turned her toward the armchair opposite. Auburn-haired Bonnie giggled, and playfully leaned back in the armchair, catching hold of her slim, bare ankles and drawing them up to pose her heels on the edge of the chair, as she slid down the back in a highly suggestive, yet child-like pose.
"But with those harlequin glasses of yours and that hairdo, lover, no one would take you for anything but a delicious and very desirable young woman," Edna whispered in Luana's ear.
Luana trembled. The possessive emprise of that leather-sheathed arm around her shoulders and that of the other hand still grasping her fingers had begun to react on her senses, already sharpened by the hostility between herself and Phil. And with this enervation, there came a curious awareness of that melange of scents ... for the supple, gleamingly lustered leather cast off a particular fragrance-indefinable, sensual-blended as it was with the elegantly subtle perfume with which Edna bad sprayed the valley of her pale-white bosom, her throat and armpits.
"Hi, hon," Bonnie chirped mantaining her role as a juvenile. She had worked it only last night on a paunchy, florid wealthy Texan in a North Side motel.
She had gone to O'llare International Airport and hung around the gift shop near the exit for United Airlines planes, dressed in bobbysocks, loafers, a middy blouse and short skirt that exposed a good inch or so of strawberry-flecked, creamy thigh; a sailor straw hat with red ribbon around its crown, and a short, cloth coat. She had spotted him going to the newsstand for cigars and sidled up to him. Her voice piped affectatiously high like a child's, she told him she was lost and that she'd flown in from New York. He'd made a pretense of trying to find her "parents," and when that failed, had got chummy. She'd known he would; Bonnie could spot a big butter-and-egg man on the make with a glance. And sure enough, he'd told her he was going to look after her, that he had a little girl at home in Dallas just like her. And in the cab he'd started-though very slyly-to run his fat hand over her knee. Bonnie had simpered and giggled and snuggled up closer to him. So when he took the room for himself and "daughter," she'd known what to expect. And he'd made a pass after having had supper sent in for the two of them. Then she'd told him she was going to call the police, she was only fifteen. And he'd begged her not to scream or tell anybody, peeled out a bulging wallet and crammed five hundred smackers into her hot little hand. Served the fat old fool right. If she'd thought about it, she'd have gone for the whole wallet.
"How-how are you, Bonnie?" Luana felt Edna's arm slip down from her shoulders to her waist, felt those slim, leather-sheathed fingers covertly press into her side. The room was terribly hot. She felt her cheeks burning. And the smell-there was something more than the perfume and liquor and cigarettes and this curious dress Edna was wearing ... something she couldn't recognize at all.
"Hungry. Which reminds me, Carla, didn't you have supper about ready for us when Luana here popped in?"
"Sure. And it's lucky you came so early, Lu honey," Carla giggled. "Come on in and let's feed our faces. Then we can get better acquainted."
"I'd love to," Edna drawled, giving Luana's side an extra little squeeze, then releasing her, much to the blonde's relief.
Supper was chicken salad, Parker House rolls, coffee and Jello. Carla was very proud of herself for having prepared it all by herself. Luana found she was starved, and ate ravenously. She couldn't help ruefully reflecting that if things had gone as they ought to have, she and Phil would be enjoying a porterhouse steak at the Edgewater Beach right about now. Darn him anyway, to put her in a situation like that! It would be a long time before she forgot how sneaky he'd been, creeping into her room. Suppose she'd been naked-she might have had a real battle on her hands. The way he'd looked at her, even in her undies She forced herself to make conversation with Carla's three friends. She was surprised how pleasant they seemed toward her, as if they'd known her for years instead of having just met her for the first time. But whenever she seemed to hint at this, Carla would always speak up about having told them so much about "my very best friend at McDougal, and that's you, Lu sweetie. Dale, Bonnie and Edna are sort of like my aunts, and they're not happy unless I am, see? So they love everybody I love."
It was pleasant enough, yes. But Luana had never really been the kind of girl who could be content to spend a whole evening making conversation with a bunch of girls. Even at the sorority meetings, she didn't go in for the coffee-klatch-type of gossiping and catty dissections which the Delta Kappa Phi girls performed on absentee associates and acquaintances. So, after about an hour, she rose and announced that she thought she ought to be getting back home.
Edna eyed Carla, her brows knitting, and a look passed between them. Then the raven-haired dominatress purred, "But it's early yet, Luana, dearest. Tell you what, have a drink with us and a cigarette. Then if you really have to go, I'll call a cab for you."
"I ... I'm not much of a drinker, really. And I don't smoke as a rule."
"Well," Edna said lightly, "you can take just a token puff to keep us company. I was in Paris this winter and I brought back some simply divine cigarettes. They're not the strong tobacco everybody uses over here. Wonderfully mild, and you hardly know you're smoking. I do want your opinion on them, Luana dear. Carla, pour Luana a drink. Make it bourbon and ginger ale-there's still a full bottle in the kitchen. I think she'd rather have that than Scotch, wouldn't you, Luana?"
"More ginger ale than bourbon, please, Carla," Luana called as Carla, her hips undulating in the most enticing way, ambled to the kitchen.
Dale had got up from the davenport and gone over to perch on the arm of Bonnie's chair. Leaning down to the petite, pajama-clad beauty, she whispered something and playfully nibbled Bonnie's dainty earlobe. Edna, seated on the davenport, reached up and caught hold of Luana's hand. "Sit down here next to me, darling." Her voice was mysteriously husky, almost a kind of intimate whisper in the dark. "Tell me more about yourself."
"There really isn't much to tell. I'm in my last term at college, and-and that's about it."
"What about love interests, darling? A beautiful girl like you must have dozens of admirers," Edna pursued, her left arm circling Luana's waist, but very gently, so evanescently that at first the blonde wasn't aware of it.
"Oh, no. I ... I'm engaged-or, I-I was, that is."
"Oh?" Edna sensed a conflict of emotions. "You mean, you just broke up with your boy friend?"
Luana, lowering her eyes, nodded.
"But why, darling? It sometimes helps to tell friends about what's bothering you."
The scent of the leather dress was heady. It seemed to have invaded Luana's senses, like an insidious narcotic. She felt herself leaning back against the davenport, relaxing. She felt, suddenly, a calming force take hold of her, easing her nervous, distraught mood. Why not, for a change, stop worrying about what had happened and just take things easy? They were all so friendly and concerned with her, thanks to Carla. And Carla had been such a wonderfully courageous girl at the initiation-she hadn't even tried to get even with Elinor yet for that dreadful thing Elinor had had done to her. She didn't want to go home to an empty house Don would be sure to stay out most of the night, and of course she wouldn't tattle on him to the folks. But this was Saturday night and Phil and she were to have had a dinner and dancing date and gone out on the town. Instead "Here's your drink, Lu, honey." Carla was back, with a little service tray and a tall glass filled to the brim. She set it down on the small, glass-covered table in front of the davenport. Then she sat down at Carla's left. And thus Carla found herself sandwiched in between the pert redhead and the tall, exotically dressed brunette. Carl's spicy cologne had been very liberally applied. And Carla's sleek thigh was pressing tightly against hers, making her move that much closer to Edna.
"Thank you." She reached for the glass, lifted it, took a tentative sip, and set it back down on the coaster. Usually, when she went out with Phil, she drank wine, and almost never cocktails or hard liquor. But the ginger ale had made it very refreshing. She reached for the glass again, and this time, took a longer drink before she set it down.
Edna made a sign to Dale, who nodded and walked to the end of the room. Edna's smart black coat was hanging from the coat rack in the corner. Her two-strapped, big leather purse was also there, and Dale, glancing back at the brunette imperatrix, opened it and took out a silver cigarette case, closed the purse and returned to the davenport.
"Here you are, Edna, dear," she cooed.
Edna clicked open the case. "Here, Luana, try one with me. Just a few puffs. It's not like anything you've ever had before."
"All-all right. You know, it's funny. I ... maybe I've smoked half a dozen cigarettes all my life, I don't even know how to inhale."
"I'll show you. These are so fragrant, so unusually mild, it won't hurt you at all when you do. Here, I'll light it for you. Carla, do you want one?"
"Oh, yes!"
Her left arm returned round Luana's slim waist as Edna, turning to her, offered the open case. Hesitantly, Luana took one. The cigarette seemed somewhat shorter, the paper somewhat grayish-white, the tobacco unusually dark. Edna leaned across Luana to offer the case to Carla, and as she did so, her flamboyantly exposed bosom brushed Luana's, making the blonde girl shiver.
Edna straightened and put the case down on the table before them. She picked up a packet of matches and lit Luana's cigarette, then Carla's-again reaching across the blonde-and finally her own. She looked directly across the room at Dale and Bonnie, and her lips curved in a faint smile. Then she winked and said, "Have one, you two. You've had them before-my own particular brand. And you've liked them."
"Uh-huh, we sure have," Dale blithely replied, coming to the table to pick up the case and extract two cigarettes. She went back to the armchair, again snuggling on the arm and leaning to Bonnie to hand her one of the short, grayish-white tubes.
Carla put her right arm over Luana's shoulders, her cigarette in her left hand.
"Now, Luana," Edna instructed, "just draw the smoke in slowly-don't force it ... that's right. Now don't open your mouth, but try to direct it out-it'll come out of your nose ... that's the way, darling!"
Luana coughed as a brief wreath of smoke dribbled out of her nostrils, and doubled over, fighting for breath. Instantly solicitous, Edna and Carla soothed her, stroking her neck and back, till she had been restored. "You did it too fast, darling," Edna purred. "Now try just one more time."
"No, really, I-it-it's funny-it-it doesn't taste like tobacco at all."
"Do it for me, dear," Edna murmured, her gloved hand gently rubbing Luana's soft nape. "Just once more, please? Now draw it in with a deep, deep breath ... that's the way ... now don't think about it, just hold it, and keep your lips tightly shut ... ah ... now, let it go, slowly, easily-there, you see?"
This time, Luana's attempt at inhalation was eminently successful. A sweetish-pungent odor rose. Carla put her cigarette to her lips and took a brief puff, her eyes glistening and eager.
In the armchair, Dale and Bonnie were puffing luxuriously at their cigarettes, and now Dale had slipped down onto Bonnie's lap, was leaning back, turning her flushed face to tender her humid, parted lips to Bonnie's full-blown, ripe mouth.
The room seemed to grow closer than ever, its warmth almost oppressive. Yet a strange, tingling sensation began to rise in Luana's body. Edna's gloved hand continued to caress her neck, and Carla, snuggling closer than ever, cupped Luana's chin in her right hand. Turning her flushed face, she softly pressed her lips on the blonde's quivering mouth.
"I ... I've never smoked anything like this, ever. What--what kind of tobacco is it?" Luana asked wonderingly. Her voice seemed, in her own ears, to come from very far away.
"It's called pot by some, tea by others," Edna drawled. "Do you like it, honey?"
"I ... I don't know. It smells-so-so funny. And I-I feel so--so dizzy."
"That's because you're not used to it and not a regular smoker anyway," Edna's response was swift and glib, "try just one more puff. Then you can put it out, honey."
"I ... I'm thirsty, though."
"Fine. Then finish your drink, and then take the last puff. It'll be even better, that way." Edna's luminous eyes caught Carla's, and again the faint, mocking smile curved the dominatress' lips.
Luana reached for the glass. Her hand was trembling as she brought it to her lips. Her throat felt suddenly parched, and she felt a giddy sensation, as if the room were beginning to turn this way and that. The cool liquid seemed to revive her. Thirstily, she drank down the rest of the contents with almost a single gulp, then set the glass back down with a clatter and leaned back. "Oh-that-that's better."
"Look out for your cigarette, honey-you'll burn the davenport," Edna cautioned. Luana's eyelids fluttered open. Blankly, she stared at her right hand. It was very near Edna's skirt.
"Oh-I-I'm sorry. Excuse me. I'll put it out-"
"After the last puff-for my sake, darling, please?" Edna cajoled. Her hand once again had begun to stroke the soft nape. And again Carla cupped her blonde friend's chin and gently turned Luana's flushed face toward hers, this time fusing her mouth in a lingering, demanding kiss that drew a stifled sigh and a convulsive shiver from the bespectacled blonde.
"All-all right. I will." Carla had released her. Luana's right hand, trembling more than ever now, moved toward her parted lips. The cigarette mouthpiece seemed to have grown very large, almost as large as a cigar. She blinked uncertainly.
"A little more, just a little more-there now. Draw it in, the good, rich smoke ... hold it ... close your eyes ... there ... now let it go," Edna's voice was husky-soft, almost inaudible ... yet Luana seemed to hear every tiny inflection. Her senses had never been so sharpened. Even when she closed her eyes, she somehow seemed to be aware of light radiating inside her very eyeballs. And her body was glowing, vibrant, alive....
"I'll put it out for you, shall I, darling?"
"Please. I ... feel ... so ... nice now."
Edna took the glowing butt from Luana's limp fingers, and crushed it out in the green porcelain bowl that served as an ash tray. Then she took a brisk puff at her own cigarette, another-longer this time-and then extinguished it in the bowl.
Over in the armchair, Dale and Bonnie had crossed wrists, so that each puffed at the other's cigarette, amid slurred, ecstatic giggles. Then, dropping the still lighted butts into a copper ash tray, the two Lesbians turned to each other and Bonnie, cupping the back of Dale's head, drew the brunette's face down against the large, soft donures of her swelling breasts, moaning and squirming as Dale's avid lips nuzzled their firming buds through the thin, mandarin jacket.
"I'm-so-warm!" Luana breathed, her head slowly rolling back and forth on the back of the davenport.
"Of course you are. But that's easy. Just take off your pretty formal, darling," Edna coaxed. "Here, I'll help you, shall I?"
"If ... you ... want to...." Luana had no will. But she felt as if she were soaring on a cloud. Everything was so peaceful, so lovely. And she was so terribly warm. She could feel her armpits moistening. She could even feel the flesh along her quivering thighs grow strangely damp.
"Let's take her into your bedroom, Carla. Give me a hand with her," Edna's voice was crisply authoritative, suddenly.
"Yes ... oh, yes," Carla breathed, her eyes very bright, her nostrils flickering like a mare's at a stallion's approach. Together they lifted Luana, her body relaxed and inert, and helped her walk into Carla's bedroom. There was a single, big bay window, and the shade was drawn down nearly all the way. It looked out into a small, vacant lot and a tool shed; next to the lot was another brown-brick house, the lights out.
"Put your arms over your head, darling," Edna coaxed. "We'll make you nice and comfy."
Obediently, Luana raised her arms. They had no weight. The room still seemed to be reeling about her, but not unpleasantly. She could hear everything, even their breathing.
At the sight of Luana's delicious figure in white silk briefs and bra, and the shadowy outline of the garter belt with its taut, narrow tabs kissing those suavely curved, pink thighs, Edna sucked in her breath, her eyes narrowing to pinpoints of sensual exacerbation. Carla looked at the brunette, her eyes pleading. "She's mine, I brought her to you, don't forget," she whispered.
"All right. Then earn her. Is everything set for the show? We'll make this a profitable one instead of just keeping it in the family for our own amusement."
What were they whispering about? Luana wondered. They didn't need to whisper. She could hear everything. Even the silly giggles in the next room. And outside, there was something moving about ... she didn't know what. And she didn't care. She didn't care about anything at all. She was so happy, so peaceful that way. She could soar and fly into space, and she would, too, if they let her go. And she wanted to take off all the rest of her things, because it was so warm, even in there, where they'd said they'd make her more comfy.
Carla had gone to the closet and opened the door. She stepped onto a stool, reached up to a shelf, turned a movie camera's round, squat lens out to face the bedroom. Then stepped down and took the dangling cord and thrust the plug into a wall socket near the baseboard. There was a whirring sound and the beam of a light. Luana blinked, for it was aimed at her.
"Hurry, darling," Edna whispered, beckoning to the young redhead. Carla nodded, and, crouching down at Luana's feet, ran her hands greedily over the smooth calves and thighs, onward to the waistband of the blonde's panties, while Edna, an arm round Luana's waist, deftly unfastened the hooks and eyes of the thin bra and let it flutter to the floor.
"Oh ... that feels so much better ... I'm so warm ... so awfully warm," Luana whispered.
"I'll make you feel lots, lots better, I promise, Lu, darling," Carla's voice was trembling. Her eager fingers rucked down the panties, and she uttered a feverish little moan at the secret beauties thus left unadorned. Her mouth clambered up Luana's shapely left thigh, on to the top of the stocking, applying stinging little kisses, till it reached the quivering, moist, pink flesh, and moved yet onward, upward, toward the furry grotto of Venus....
"Ohh ... ohh ... it's lovely ... ooohh, I'm so very that's so nice ... so ... very nice...." Her voice trailed away, her head fell back, and the dominatress, her eyes brooding and dark, cupped Luana's panting, naked breasts with black-lustered hands and buried her avid mouth in the pulse-hollow of the blonde's palpitating throat....
CHAPTER NINE
"Do you see what I'm seein' eddie?"
"Jeez, I sure do. Now keep quietfer a second there, I thought those broads were gonna hear us when you slipped offa that box. Don't stick yer head up too high, they might see you-oh, brother-that sister o' yers is sure built-lookit that sexy redhead climb all over her!"
"Yeah ... yeah...." Don was trembling, his throat dry, his lips twitching.
"See that brunette in that tight leather dress? Manoh-man, that's what Joe was showin' us in those books, huh? Boy, would I like her to go to work on me-"
"Shut up, not so loud-hey, look-two other broads-they're naked too!"
"I wish t had a camera-Joe'll never believe what we're seein'!"
"I believe it. The Little Princess isn't as pure 'n' high 'n' mighty as she tried to make out-"
Eddie let out a cackling little laugh. "She's sure makin' out now-look-now that brunette babe in the leather dress is havin' them stretch her out on her tummy, they're holdin' her-lookit-she's got a whip-oh boy!"
Crouching against the brick wall, gripping the edge of the stone windowledge with feverish fingers, arching on tiptoe on the wooden crates they had found in the empty shed in the vacant lot, Don and Eddie stared through the two inches of unshaded window into Carla's bedroom, their breath quickened, their eyes goggling, till, roused beyond endurance as the Sapphic scene unfolded, each lowered one hand to fumble with his clothes and vicariously savour those forbidden delights within that room given over now to indescribable rapture and perverse attunements....
He had had to wait a long time out there in the vacant lot, but it had been worth it. And it didn't matter what the Little Princess wrote in her diary. He'd seen what she'd been up to, with his own eyes. And so had Eddie.
The rumble of a car down the quiet street had frightened both boys away from their vantage points, and Eddie and Don had jumped down from the crates, moving quickly through the lot to come back onto the sidewalk. Eddie had parked the Vespa against a tree. He would have liked to watch some more, but Don didn't mind. Besides, he wanted to get home ahead of Luana-if she got home at all. And tomorrow, he'd see if he couldn't get her to shell out enough for the hi-fi stuff he wanted. She would, or else he'd blab to Mom and Dad....
Luana didn't get home at all that night. And fortunately for Carla, her Aunt Madge didn't, either. About midnight, when Carla was getting just a bit worried that her aunt might walk in and find her three friends in a rather compromising condition, the phone rang. Aunt Madge was on the line, radiantly excited. She was eloping with her boy friend to Crown Point. They'd go .on to New York for a week's honeymoon. Carla wasn't to worry. Madge would be in touch, and she was ever so happy. "Now you be a good girl at school, dear. I want to be proud of your grades in June," she cautioned, as a twinge of recollection that she was, after all, still Carla's legal guardian intruded on her own connubial euphoria. "I hope you'll be very happy, Aunt Madge," Carla gleefully volunteered, nodding and smiling to Edna, who had emerged from the bedroom, still holding her whip, a worried look on her arrogant face.
"Oh, I will be, darling You've no idea! I only hope some day you'll know what it's like to be married. Well, I've got to go. Take care, now," Madge giggled, and hung up.
Carla echoed that giggle and she walked toward Edna. "It's my aunt. Of all things, she's run off with that guy she's been dating. I'll have a new uncle."
"Oh?"
"She's so funny, Edna lover. Know what she said?"
"Uh-uh."
"She said she only hoped someday I'd know what it's like to be married. 'Course, she doesn't know I just was. To Luana. Isn't Lu the darlingest little wifie you ever made love to, Edna?"
"Oh, yes," the brunette huskily agreed. "But let's go back to her. Dale and Bonnie might try to steal her away from us."
"Oh, we mustn't let that happen! She's-she's so passionate, Edna darling. And such a beautiful body. Can you imagine some nasty boy spoiling all that beauty? But you know what?"
"What, Carla, sweetheart?" Edna's black-gloved hand reached up to cup one of Carla's saucy, dark-tipped breasts, the hand with the whip reaching round to press the black leather thong tightly against the redhead's jouncy, contracting, nude buttocks.
"Ohh, that's so good! I wish you'd been there to
'nishiate me, Edna, instead of those silly girls!"
"I'll make up for it, now that your aunt'll be away. You'll see, pet. But what were you saying about our newest little wifie?"
"Oh yes! I was going to say I'm ever so glad he had a breakup with her tonight-or we might never have had such glorious times as we did.
"The night's not over, pet. Let's go back and make sure Dale and Bonnie don't get too greedy."
Luana wakened to find Carla beside her, just as she had been that night at Elinor Darby's bouse. Both of them were Eve-naked. Carla was still sleeping, again just as she had been that unforgettable night.
The sickening-sweet after-fragrance of marijuana lingered in the room. In the overflowing ash tray on the night table beside Carla's rumpled, wide bed, half a dozen grayish-white butts mingled with the lipstick-marked butts of brand-name cigarettes.
Luana sat up slowly, wincing. She felt as if a violent migraine had gnawed its way into her brain. She drew away the sheets and swung her slim legs down to the floor. Her eyes scanned her body, and she gasped, then blushed. On her breasts and belly and thighs, there were the lipsticked traces of amorous kisses ... nor was the shade of lipstick the same for all those kisses. And there were other marks, curious marks. A tentative finger glided over them, but they did not rub off. And where they stigmatized her soft pink warm skin, there was a tingling sensation.
In the bathroom, a full-length mirror inside the door enabled her to stare over her shoulder. And there were many other such marks on her hips and thighs and buttocks, some of them faint and already receding, others darkening. Her flesh was exquisitely tender, but there was no pain.
She showered hastily, making the water as warm as she could stand it, and soaped and rinsed herself vigorously. Then, toweling herself, she looked for her clothes. They weren't in the bedroom. Where had she put them? She couldn't seem to remember anything, not after she'd finished that cigarette and the drink. And these marks ... the marks of kisses and those others. How-?
"Oh!" Her eyes had fallen on the carpet just outside the bedroom. A black-leather whip lay at her feet. Intuitively, she knew now how those other marks had been caused. She had to find her clothes and get back home. She felt so languid and relaxed-everything was wonderful except for that throbbing headache. She knew one thing; she'd never smoke again, or drink hard liquor. There must have been more bourbon in that drink than she'd realized. From now on, she'd stick to wine at meals with Phil No. Not with Phil. She remembered. They had broken off, and it was probably for good. And she'd called Carla and asked if the invitation still held, and come out in a cab. And she'd met Carla's three unusual friends. And the brunette, the tall, haughty-faced brunette in that breathtaking leather dress had paid her so much attention. Had she-had she been the one who'd used the whip?
"Oh. Hi there, Lu."
She whirled. Carla, yawning luxuriously and stretching her beautiful arms above her touseled head, was sitting up and smiling at her.
"I-I was looking for my clothes, Carla."
"Oh, those. I guess maybe Edna put them in the closet."
"Oh, fine. I'll get them. I'd better get back home. Ouch, my head aches something awful!"
"I'll give you a benny. It's a pep pill. That and an aspirin, you'll feel like a new woman." Carla got out of bed, once again heedless of her exciting nudity, and darted into the bathroom, emerged with two pills in her hand and a Dixie cup of water. "Here. Down the hatch. And then we'll rustle up some breakfast before you leave."
"I don't know about the pep pill, Carla."
"Don't be a silly willy. It's the best thing you could take after-" Carla had the good grace to blush.
"After what? What-what did I do last night, Carla?"
"Don't you remember-anything?"
Luana shook her head, then groaned as she clapped a hand to her forehead.
"Here. They'll make it go away, honest they will," Carla urged, holding out the pills and the paper cup. With a sigh of resignation, Luana put them into her mouth, then washed them down with a sip from the cup. Then, conscious of her own shameless nudity before Carla's boldly flaunting, unadorned beauty, she turned a fiery red and stammered, "I'll get my clothes."
"I never saw a girl with such a figure who didn't want to show it off. You ought to go around like that always, darling," Carla giggled.
"That's probably a compliment, but right now all I want is to go home." Luana moved toward the closet.
"Let me, honey." Before Luana could protest, Carla had sinuously moved in front of her, opened the closet door, reached up to the shelf-hurriedly pushing the movie camera far to the dark side-and took down the neatly folded pile of Luana's things. "Here they are, honey. Everything but your shoes. They must be in the living room."
Luana established a speed record for getting back into her clothes. Oddly enough, by the time she had finished, her headache seemed almost to have vanished.
Carla put on her satin blouse and toreador pants and led her out into the kitchen, where she prepared toast and coffee and orange juice. Edna, Dale and Bonnie were in Aunt Madge's bedroom, the redhead casually explained. She had peeked inside, and they were still sleeping.
"Now don't be such a stranger any more, darling," Carla pouted prettily as the cab Luana had called drew up to the curb. "Whenever you want to see me, just call and come on out. I know Dale, Bonnie and Edna will be dying to see you again."
"I'd be grateful if you'd forget last night, Carla. Honestly, I would. I was on the rebound from Phil, and I wanted to relax-and I sure did," Luana said, with grim self-criticism.
Carla pressed herself against Luana, her hands stroking the blonde's trim hips as her mouth sought an amorous au revoir. "Of course I'll forget. It was beautiful. There's something between us, Lu, and even you can't deny it. I'll be waiting-whenever you need me again."
In the merciless light of day, such affectatious avowals seemed as offensive now as the sight of that coiled whip on the carpet. Luana bit her lips, drew a long, shuddering breath, and walked out toward the waiting cab.
CHAPTER TEN
"THAT you, Sis?"
Luana just let herself in with her key when she heard Don call from the top of the landing.
"That's right, Don. Did-did the folks call?"
Don, still in his pajamas and slippers, his hair uncombed, a smirk on his unwashed face, came slowly down the stairs. "Nope. I was asleep till about half an hour ago."
"My goodness, you must have stayed out all night with Joe and Eddie, then. And you know what Mom and Dad said."
"Yeah, I know what they said. But at least t got home. And you're just now coming in."
There was something gloating in his voice, something offensive and impertinent in his tone, that made her look up sharply.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
He pursed his lips and ran a hand through his unruly hair. "Oh, nothing special. You know, Luana, I've been wanting to get a pair of Jensen speakers."
"What you've got is good enough. And loud enough, the way I always have to ask you to turn your volume down."
"No, it's not good enough. I need speakers with lots more bass. And they don't cost much, really. About a hundred-thirty."
"Well, you earn money at the cleaner's, plus your allowance from Dad. Just save up for them if you really have to have them."
"But that'll take too long."
"Well, really, it's not my problem."
"It might be."
"Look here, Don, I don't understand what you're trying to say."
"And you're supposed to be a college brain."
"If you're going to be rude, I don't have to stand here and listen-"
"No, you don't. But Mom'n Dad will."
"Don Matthews, say what you mean so I can understand it, or else go back to your room and get dressed!"
"You're a fine one, telling a guy to get dressed!" he sniggered.
Luana stamped her foot with irritation. "I've had about enough of your nasty little remarks. Sometimes it's hard for me to believe you're my own brother."
"Yeah? Last night it was jist as hard for me to believe you were my goody-goody sister."
She recoiled, her eyes dilating, her face pale. "Last-night?"
"Uh-huh. Boy, did you have a time out on Sangamon and Granville."
"Sangamon and-and Granville?"
"Gee, Sis, you sound like little Sir Echo," he jeered. "Yeah, that's where. In that house next to the vacant lot. Eddie'n me followed you there on the Vespa. We hadda wait a long time to see the action, but it sure was worth the wait."
"Wh-what are you t-talking about?"
"You know what, Lu. You sure go for girls, don't cha? In your bare skin. 'Smatter, don't you think Phil can give you whatcha need?"
"You-you horrible little beast-" her hand flashed out across his cheek.
He grinned, baring his teeth like a cowardly jackal. "That's gonna cost you extra, Sis."
"If you want another slap, keep on talking!"
"Oh no. It's not slaps I want. It's dough. So I can buy my stereo stuff, see? An' you're gonna give it to me-as a kinda present. Anyhow, my birthday's in September, so you can just celebrate it early by forkin' over now. Otherwise, I'll spill the beans to the folks when they get back home."
Luana was trembling. She forced herself to stand erect, facing him, her face taut with contempt. And she said hoarsely, "They'll think you're making it up. They won't believe you. And even if they did, they'd think, as I do, that you're a nasty, sick-minded little spy."
"Yeah? Wait till I tell 'em how you loved gettin' whipped by that dame in the leather dress. How you were kissin' that cute little brunette that was helpin' hold ya down. Then, when they rolled ya over, how-"
"Shut up! You-you-"
"Yeah, I saw it all. So did Eddie. Through the window o' that bedroom you were havin' all the fun in, Sis. All we hadda do was stand on a coupla packin' crates 'n' wait till somebody showed. And they sure showed plenty-you, most of all. Now, do you lemme have the cash I need? I wanna get a tape recorder too, and a new diamond-point stylus-"
"You-you'd blackmail your own sister? What kind of a boy are you?"
"Aw, come off it, Little Princess! I don't like your guts any more'n you like mine. So don't pull the same flesh-and-blood routine on me. Just answer my question-do I get the dough?"
Grinding her teeth, her face red with shame and loathing, Luana struck him across the mouth with the full force of her palm, mashing his lips against his teeth. A' he toppled back and sat down heavily on the stair, clapping a hand to his bleeding mouth, she said in a voice that was choked with commingled tears and abhorrance, "That's what you get. Does that answer your question?"
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CORINNE AND EDWIN MATTHEWS GOT HOME THURSday afternoon, just a few minutes before Don made it back from school. Mr. Caruso had told him to make it Friday afternoon this week instead of Thursday. And he was glad Mr. Caruso had changed the schedule, because he wanted to get to Mom and Dad before Luana did.
She hadn't said a word to him since that showdown on Sunday. On Monday, he'd waited for her to get back from campus, and as soon as she'd come in, he'd put it to her straight again: either she kicked in with dough "and he knew she had enough in her saving? account to handle the amount he wanted" or he'd tell Mom and Dad what he and Eddie had seen through the window in that house on Sangamon and Granville. The Little Princess had just given him a look and gone on upstairs to her room. Well, he didn't have to sneak any more looks at the secret diary of hers. Secret! That was the laugh of all time. Nothing she did from now on could top that swinging Saturday night.
On Tuesday, he had a still better idea. And again he'd waited for her till she got home from McDougal. He wanted to know what she thought Phil Corcoran would say if he found out the real reason his dream girl didn't want to come across. And all she'd said was, "Go ahead, tell him. You'll just show him what a filthy little moron you are. I'm not going to marry him anyhow, so you won't gain a thing. And the answer is still no. And now I'd appreciate it if you'd keep your dirty mouth shut from now on, unless you want me to close it for you again the way I did last time."
Well, that had done it. She could stew in her own juice, he didn't give a damn. If he couldn't get the cash out of her, at least he'd have the satisfaction of showing her up to Mom and Dad. Then maybe she wouldn't rule the roost any more. And that was almost as good as money. Almost.
"Well, Don, did you miss your mother and me?" Edwin Matthews chuckled as Don walked into the living room.
"Gosh, yes! Was-was everything all right back there?"
Matthews sadly shook his head. "Your Aunt Emma's pretty badly broken up. It'll be a long time before she gets over the shock. Your mother and I did the best we could to make things easier for her. A terrible thing. A whole family shattered just because some drunken fool got behind a wheel and didn't think of the consequences. That's the trouble with the world today, nobody considers other peoples' rights. We're all too selfish."
"Now, Edwin," Corinne remonstrated wearily. He had been sermonizing ever since they left for Davenport the week before. He was a good-hearted, generous man and a wonderful husband, but he never quite seemed to understand that raking over the past and talking generalities never really did any good.
"All right, Corinne. Well, now, let's talk about something more cheerful. How's the schoolwork going? Behave yourself while we were away?"
"Sure, Dad. I just went out once, on Saturday night, over to Joe's place for supper. Eddie was there too. But that was the only time. And Mr. Caruso says he's going to have more work for me. And I did all my geometry homework for this week, and as far as I can tell, it's okay."
"Glad to hear it, Don. I knew you could do it if you put your mind to it. Now, how's Luana? I hope you didn't make her any extra work around the house while we were gone?"
"Nope. I fixed my own meals. Anyway, I didn't see much of her. Especially Saturday night."
"Well, I suppose she was out with Phil," Matthews chuckled. "One of these days, Don, you might just have a brother-in-law for yourself."
"Maybe so, but it won't be Phil."
"What's this?"
Don shrugged, flushing. He wasn't exactly sure how to break the news, and he didn't want to incriminate himself any more than he had to.
"Don't you be impertinent with me, Donald," his father scowled. "I can't read sign language, so suppose you explain what you meant by that last remark of yours."
"Okay, Dad, okay I'll try. They-well, they had a breakup."
"How do you know that?"
"Now, Edwin, don't be harsh on the boy," Corinne uneasily put in.
"I'm not being harsh on him, Corinne. He volunteered a piece of information, and I simply want to know how he came by it, that's all. Well, Donald?"
Don looked down at the floor and nervously shifted his feet. "I-I heard them quarreling. And she told him to get out."
"I see. That's too bad. I wonder what could have caused such a misunderstanding. They've been going together for three years now."
"Dad."
"Yes?"
Don licked his lips, hunched his shoulders, glanced back at the living room door, as if fearful that Luana might enter at any moment. "I know what happened. I saw it."
"Well, what then?"
"Sis was in her room, dressing. And-and Phil went on in and saw her-undressed. And then he tried to-well, to kiss her and stuff like that. And she told him to get out."
"Donald!" his mother gasped, rising from her chair.
"You say you saw all this? How?"
He fidgeted, his face growing a dusky red, looked down at the floor, cracked his knuckles soundly behind his back.
"I'm asking you a question, Donald. I want an answer."
"There-there's a big crack up at the top of my room, right where that door is, where you put the chest of drawers. I-I looked through it when-when I heard them qu-quarreling."
"Eavesdropping isn't a very honorable thing to do. I wouldn't be proud of it if I were you, Donald. I'm going to have to plaster up that crack." Then, as a sudden suspicion seized him, Matthews added, his face stern and cold: "Have you ever taken the time to look through it before?"
"Gee, no-of course not, Dad-whaddya think I am?"-Don blurted, trying to hide the sudden, agitated pounding of his heart.
"Well, I can only hope you've told me the truth. If I thought for a minute-"
"Edwin, please," Corinne gasped, regarding her son, then her husband, with a horrified expression. "Dad-"
"Now what is it?"
"It's about Luana, Dad."
"Then you've been looking through that crack a good deal more than once, is that what you're about to tell me? I ought to thrash you within an inch of your life, you-" his father's face was mottled with indignant anger.
"No, honest, Dad, it's not that-it's what she did Saturday night-"
"Well? Speak up!"
"You're bullying the boy, Edwin," Corrine put out a hand to him, her eyes pleading.
"I want to clear the air around here, Corinne. If he's got anything to say, let him say it. All right, Donald. Say what you were going to say. And don't try to hide anything-that's an order."
"Okay." Don took a deep breath. You were supposed to obey an order when your father gave you one. Okay. So he didn't have to hold anything back. "I-I was worried about Sis, because she tore out of here after Phil had left, see? She-she took a cab. And Eddie called for me on-on his Vespa-"
"I've told you I didn't want you riding on the back of that contraption, not on these dangerous city streets, Donald! So you weren't the obedient, dutiful son you said you were while we were gone, eh?"
Aware that he had already trapped himself, Don vindictively struck back in the only way he knew. "Okay, okay, so I broke my promise. Okay, but I was thinking about Sis, and that's the truth. I told Eddie I wanted to see where she was going in such a huff. So he took me along and we followed the cab-"
"And now you're playing Sherlock Holmes. All right. Let's hear the rest of it."
Don shifted his feet again, rubbed his hands against the sides of his trousers, covertly glancing up at his father, then at his mother, seeking some comfort. But he found none in his father's stony gaze, nor in the troubled look on his mother's face.
"All right, young man. You've started this, now finish it. Where did she go and what happened, since you thought it important enough to follow her like a spy?" Matthews' voice was irritably curt.
"Out-out to a house on Granville and Sangamon. I-I didn't know whose it was. B-but Eddie and I waited there ... there's a vacant lot next door and we .. sort of waited and-"
"Yes, go on!"
He grimaced and looked down at the floor. Damn the Little Princess anyhow-if she'd come across with the dough, he wouldn't be on the spot like this.
"You'd better tell me, and it better be the truth!" Matthews half-rose from his chair.
"It is the truth, Dad. Eddie saw it too. She Luana-I-"
At this moment, the front door opened and Luana came in. She turned toward the living room, saw her parents seated there and Don standing before them. Her lips tightened and she turned very pale.
"Luana, come here, dear," her father called. Then, to Don: "Now we'll get to what's what. And if you've made this all up to make me forget you broke your promise about not riding on that confounded motor scooter, you'll regret it, I can tell you!"
Luana approached, her face imperturbable.
"Luana, I-I don't want to pry into your affairs, dear," Matthews hesitantly began, "but Don has come up with some wild, cock-and-bull story about your having broken up with Phil Corcoran-"
"That's true, Dad," she said quietly. Briefly, she glanced at Don, and she sent him an extremely cold look full of loathing.
"I'm sorry to hear that. And it's none of my business, either, why you two had a spat. Only Don seems to have taken it on himself to be the family chaperon and follow you around like a private detective. Did you know about that?"
"Yes, Dad. I know all about it. And I wonder if he told you that he tried to get money out of me to make him keep quiet about the whole thing. Money for his hi-fi."
"Why, the-Donald, is that true?" Matthews stood up, his face somber with menace.
To the last, Don hadn't dreamed that Luana would admit to what he'd been leading up to tell his father; but now her accusation swept the very ground out from under him. He had no other way to save himself but to tell what he had seen. At his father's threatening gesture, he recoiled, then shrilly exclaimed: "All right, so I did ask her, so what? It wasn't as bad as what she did! Just ask her!"
"Luana, I don't know what this is all about. If your brother's making something up-please don't misunderstand-" Matthews was beyond his depth.
But again Don, having staked all and lost the gamble, with nothing more to lose, felt his father's goad in seeing him take his sister's part almost in advance again, and cried out: "There you go, thinking she can't ever do anything wrong! It's always been that way-I always get the blame! Well, this time I won't take it, see, Dad? I'll tell you what Eddie 'n' me saw-and you can call Eddie up and ask him if it isn't so! She went to see some girls, and we waited around outside, and after an hour or so, there she was in the bedroom without any clothes on and there was another girl with her in bed, and a woman in a leather dress with a whip and they were-"
"Shut your filthy mouth!" Matthews thundered. He drew back his arm, thought better of it, then turned to Luana, drawing a deep breath. "Honey-I-I don't know what to say-why your brother should invent such a vicious lie is more than I can fathom-and I'm only sorry you had to stand here and listen to it he'll be dealt with-"
"God damn it, Dad, there you go again!" Don whined. "I told ya what I saw. And Eddie saw it too, every single thing. There were four dames there in that bedroom with Sis. And Eddie said Sis-Sis acted like a real dyke, that's what!"
"That's enough, boy!"
Don played his final trump card. "And it's not the first time she's acted that way, if you wanna know somethin', Dad!"
"I told you-"
Don backed up as his father advanced toward him, hand drawn back. Frantically, he yelled, "I'm not the one oughta get smacked! Couple weeks ago, at that 'nishiashun, she went to bed with one of the freshman-she wrote it all down in her diary-just read it for yourself, Dad-owww-hey, cut that out-I told ya the truth-oww-stop-"
His father had cuffed him furiously and Don, bowing his head and hugging his arms over his contorted face, tried to defend himself.
"Edwin, don't-please don't!" Corinne sobbed, wringing her hands.
Luana bit her lips, her face taut and pale. "Dad don't hit him-he told the truth-" she blurted suddenly.
Edwin Matthews stopped, thunderstruck, his hand falling to his side, while Don whimpered, still cowering with his arms about his face.
"Luana-you-what did I just hear you say?" his voice was hoarse and halting.
"That Don told the truth. I despise him for it. For reading my diary-he must have gone into my room and looked for it. For peeping in on me in my own room-" she uttered a convulsive, stifled sob, her eyes closing for a moment-"for trying to blackmail me. I don't think I can ever think of him as my brother again. But ... I did what he said. Don't ask me why. I'm not-"
She got no farther. With a groan of horror and incredulity, Matthews seized her by the wrist, pulled her back toward him as he sat back down in his chair, and flung her across his lap. Then, pinning her waist with his left arm, he began to strike her buttocks with the flat of his right hand, dealing furious, hurried blows with all his strength. Corinne Matthews uttered a stupefied cry: "No, Edwin, for God's sake, don't be brutal wait-try to understand-"
"What's there to understand?" he shouted, his face red and warped with abhorrence, as he continued to strike her with all his force. "To think my daughter would turn out to be a pervert-my God, what have I done to deserve this? And my son a blackmailing sneak-" His hand rose and fell again and again. Luana, eyes closed, grinding her teeth, endured the punishment as stoically as she could, but stifled groans attested to its painful violence. Don, openmouthed, watched with a silly grin.
At last Corinne, hysterically sobbing caught her husband's arm and pleaded with him to stop.
"Get-get out of my sight," he panted as Luana painfully arose, seized by a crisis of nerves that made her tremble as if with ague.
She turned and without a word, falteringly went up the stairs.
"See, Dad? I wasn't makin' it up, I-" Don whiningly began.
His father looked at him with savage hatred, his lips curled. "And you, get out of my sight too. I don't want to see your sneaky face around for a while. Go to your room and study. And you won't see those friends oif yours again, at least till school's out. Maybe even never. Now get out of her. You make me want to vomit"
CHAPTER TWELVE
LUANA PACKED A SUITCASE OF HER MOST ESSENTIAL clothes, took her bankbook and diary, put on her cloth coat and left the house an hour later. Her mother had gone to her room, hysterically upset by the ugly scene which had torn the entire family asunder. Edwin Matthews, brooding and distraught, had gone for a walk and perhaps a drink in a neighborhood tavern. Luana left a note on the living room table. It said only that she was going to stay by herself till her parents felt different about things and were able to listen to what she had to say. She was deeply sorry to have caused them such pain.
She wasn't sure what she should do. Rut she knew that she had to find out about herself She remembered very little of what had taken place Saturday night at Carla's aunt's house, yet Don's revelation of what he had seen had shocked her nearly as much as it had her parents. And she meant to find out from Carla herself. What peculiar, unknown trait in her makeup had let her lend herself to acts which, when matter-of-factly described by a witness-even such a Judas-like, inimical one as her own brother-spoke of orgy and debauchery?
Honest with herself as ever, she admitted that the experience with Carla on initiation night had been curiously satisfying to her physical senses, at the same time realizing that it was suspect and that the charge of "dyke" which Don had hurled at her could well be justified by her acceptance of Carla's overtures. But the best way to iron out. a problem was to face it squarely. And that was why she took a cab to the house on Sagamon and Granville....
"My gosh, what a nice surprise!" Carla effusively greeted her at the door. She was wearing the blouse and the toreador pants she had worn Saturday night. "Come in, Lu honey. What's the suitcase for?"
"I-I'm going to live away from home for a while, Carla. I don't know where yet, but-but I wanted to see you first and-and talk to you."
"Sure. Come on in. Edna's here-she'll be glad to see you. Dale and Bonnie are back at the motel."
Edna rose from the davenport, her eyes sparkling at the sight of Luana. She wore a tight-fitting, black satin dress, slashed at the left side halfway up her long, sinuous thigh and a pair of Piemonte pumps, made of soft, black, patent-leather with a cut-out motif on the vamp. The narrow tapering heels were nearly five inches high.
"Darling Luana! I was just thinking of you!" she purred. Her green eyes fixed on the suitcase in Luana's hand. "What's this, dear? Are you going on a trip?"
"She's left home, Edna," Carla proffered.
"I see. Well, Carla, she could stay here for a while, couldn't she?"
"Oh, no," Luana broke in, "I-I just came here first because-because I wanted to talk to Carla-"
"I think I can guess why, darling," Edna's smile was almost gloating. "You've found you're in love with her, not that fiance of yours. So you want to tell her-"
"Oh no! That-that's not it at all!" Luana's cheeks blazed.
"Darling, you needn't try to hide it. Not from me. Not after Saturday night," Edna drawled, seating herself and carefully crossing her slim long legs. The charcoal-brown sheerness of her nylon stockings seemed like a second skin over the pale ivory of her elegantly chiseled calves and thighs.
"Carla-I-I want to know something." Luana set down the suitcase and turned to face the redhead, who had seated herself in the armchair across the room.
"Ask away, sweetie. I've got no secrets from my Big Sister, you know that."
"It-it's about Saturday night. I-I know what happened after-after the initiation. But-I can't remember anything from Saturday. Not after I had that drink and-and that cigarette."
"A pity," Edna huskily murmured. "Because you were so very passionate, and I was sure you were really enjoying it. We all had a simply glorious time with you, darling."
"All of you-" Luana repeated, shivering with self-loathing. Then it was true....
"Oh, yes, darling," Edna casually retorted, buffing her long nails against her skirted thigh. "You seemed to like Carla most-which is understandable, since she was your love teacher. But you found my whip and glove very irresistible, too."
"I-I don't believe it-"
"No? But if you'd like to see a movie made of the way you carried on when I spanked your pretty bottom, darling, I know Carla would love to show it to you."
"A-a movie?"
"Oh, yes. We often take movies of our own little friendly sessions. A kind of a souvenir d'amour, so to speak." Edna was critically examining her nails, a little smile playing on her sensuously thin lips. "Sometimes we take them of our clients, too. Of course, you're not that, darling."
"You mean-you-while I-a movie was-was being made?" Luana incredulously stammered.
Edna raised her eyes and fixed Luana with a mocking stare. "A very spicy movie, darling. If I wanted to, I could probably get a fortune for it. And your parents and your boy friend and the authorities at your college would be amazed at it, I assure you."
"Oh, my God-you wouldn't-"
"Of course not, pet," Edna's voice was reassuringly purring. "Not if you're a sweet, sensible girl. I was just thinking, as a matter-of-fact, about having Carla get in touch with you. But now that you've left home and come to see her, it's so much easier. Now, Carla's aunt will be getting back this Saturday, I think, so it might not be too wise to have you move in with her. But the three of us, Bonnie, Dale and myself, are staying at a motel. There's room enough for you, Luana, dear. You could go to school in the daytime, just as you usually do. And evenings, we could be together."
"Oh, no! I-I'm not-that way-"
"Oh, but you are, as that movie would convince you. Maybe you ought to see it. Carla, get it out. The screen's in the back of the closet. I'll turn out the lights and draw the shades."
With a sickening, numb terror, Luana, unable to speak, watched Carla bring in the portable screen and a movie projector, while Edna turned off the living room lights and drew the shades. And then, as the whirring sound and the beam of light began, she fixed dazed, incredulous eyes on the screen.
Carla had aimed the lens with fortuitous skill. The film showed her bed and the writhing, naked, entwining figures on it with pitiless clarity. Before it was over, Luana had bowed her head, and, hiding her scarlet face in her hands, was weeping in her shame and despair.
"Are you convinced now, darling?" Edna rose and went over to the armchair in which Luana crouched, shoulders shaking in her emotional upheaval. Gently, her slim hand caressed the soft nape.
"That movie-I-I'm begging you to destroy it
-please-I-I haven't very much money of my own-but if it's money you want-"
"Darling! I said you weren't a client. I wouldn't think of charging you. And you can have it, to keep or destroy, whatever you want-without paying a cent at all."
"Oh, thank you, Edna, I-"
Edna's slim fingers brushed he blonde's dainty earlobe, and Luana shivered. "On one condition. That you move in with us for a week or two. We'll get along just fine. And you'll have a chance to meet some wonderful new friends."
Luana looked up. "F-friends?" she repeated, dazedly.
Edaa nodded, her smile deepening. "Oh yes. Very fashionable women who'll be wild to meet you, just as the three of us were, darling."
Vaguely, Luana comprehended. She uttered a cry of revulsion. "No-oh, no!"
"Oh, yes, darling. Otherwise Carla will have prints of this very informative little film made and sent to your parents and your fiance and the people at college. I'm sure you're going to be sensible about it. After all, what's a week or two among dear friends, when you can save yourself all that nasty publicity, and have fun
-the kind of fun we know you love-in the bargain?"
Carla had betrayed her. Her own compassion; her own mixed-up emotions, stemming from the demands of Phil, demands which had attuned her more deeply than she had guessed, had betrayed her. And now Carla stood beside her, her pert face radiant with that treacherous triumph. She had walked unwittingly into the trap of an amoral, scheming little slut, whose hypocrisy had been so artistically camouflaged that she had not guessed Carla's true intentions. And now she was caught in that trap.
"Well, dearest?" Edna's hand was stroking her curls now. "What's your answer?"
She bit her lips and slowly looked up at the dominatress. "A week or two, you said. And then you'll give me back the film-and not make any copies?"
Edna nodded.
"All right. I've dirtied myself by trying to act decent, and I've lost everything. I haven't any choice. But-but I want to know one thing."
"Of course, darling. Now you're being a wise and very practical girl."
"That drink-and-and that cigarette. Why did they make me forget everything? I don't remember anything of-of what that horrible movie shows-"
"Oh, that's easy, dearest. The cigarette was pot. It's also known as marijuana. And there was mescaline in the drink. You were high as a kite. But it was good for you. It stripped away all those silly, prudish notions and let you express yourself as you truly are. Face it, Luana-you're a Lesbian. A very passionate one. And you oughtn't to deny your truest instincts. Now, Carla, if you'll call a cab, Luana and I will go out to the motel. Dale and Bonnie will be so surprised!"
"Hey, Phil Corcoran, what are you doing in this neck of the woods?" Cash Hanson walked over to the Walgreen soda fountain. Phil looked around from his stool. "Cash, you old son of a gun you! I could ask the same question."
"Well, I'll tell you before you ask, then. Dad wanted me to deliver a transcript of a brief to one of his clients in the neighborhood. A widow who's been neatly done out of some property by an over-ambitious sales manager she hired to run her husband's carpeting firm after he died. From here I'm going over to see Elinor. We've decided to be married the day after her graduation."
"You lucky stiff," Phil chuckled. "C'mon, sit down here and I'll buy you a malted to celebrate."
"Okay, I'll take you up on that." Cash swung his lanky legs over the stool and squirmed around. "They didn't make these stools for rangy guys like me. Or you either, you big bruiser."
"Well, when the time comes you can't get onto one, you'll know you're either musclebound or senile, Cash boy," Phil clapped him on the back. "A double chocolate malted for my friend here, Miss. Now then, Cash, so you've really gone ahead and done it, huh?"
"Sort of in self defense. Elinor's been reading me the riot act lately. Seems some sexy freshman's been making a play for me and Elinor told me she better not catch me playing around-or else. And that goes both ways-she's a living doll and I don't want some other guy to snap her up."
"Good for you, boy! But how're you gonna support a wife? You're supposed to go to Harvard this fall, aren't you?"
"That's right. But you know what? When I told Elinor I'd marry her in a flash if I had a steady job, she said it didn't matter, because she's going to go to work herself right after graduation. She's quite some punkins when it comes to dress designing, and a department store downtown offered her a full-time job after seeing some of her sketches."
"Hey now, that's something! But, Cash, won't you feel sort of-you know-having your wife support you-"
"Take it easy. I thought about that, too. But in the first place, I've got five thousand bucks of my own from a legacy my aunt left me last year. And Elinor says I'm going to pass the bar and make a darn good lawyer. She says it'll be an investment in our future, and she wants to make sure she's around to share it with me."
Phil wonderingly shook his head. "She really loves you, then, Cash. To go to work, I mean. I always figured her-excuse me for saying it, but we've always been buddies-I had her pegged as always wanting her own way."
"So did I, if you want to know something." Cash chuckled as he stirred the thick malted with his straw, then took a generous swig. "But we had a kind of showdown the other night. I guess maybe I ought to be grateful to that little redhead. Elinor figured that if I went East to law school, I'd be exposed to too much temptation away from her control. So that problem's settled. Now what about you-how're you and Luana doing?"
"Not good at all, old buddy," Phil gloomily picked up his coffee cup and took a half-hearted sip. "We've just about split up, looks like."
"How come? I thought you two were the perfect team."
"Aw-we had a misunderstanding. And now she's left home. I can't get her folks to tell me where she is or why she left. It's been ten days, now. Even they don't know where she is. But I know she's still going to school, because I saw her on campus yesterday, going into Sociology IV. I yelled to her, but she pretended not to hear me and kept going. And I'm not about to get down on my knees and ask her to forgive me."
"It's none of my business about what broke you two up, Phil. But you've been going with Lu now for three years, and everybody had you down as man and wife."
Phil uttered a curse. "Shit! That's a hot one' T" like nothing better. And we got engaged a couple weeks back. Then, when I wanted to get serious-"
"Level with me, old buddy. By getting serious you mean you wanted to boff her, don't you?"
"Aw, skip it, Cash." Phil uneasily squirmed on his stool.
"I think I get the picture, Phil. And she wanted to wait for marriage, so you tried to force the issue, and she got mad. It figures. Lu's a fine, decent girl. Don't you think maybe she wants you as much as you do her?"
"Damn it, she sure didn't act like it-"
"All right, so maybe she's a little old-fashioned. I've played around a little, I don't mind telling you. And I don't expect Elinor's a virgin either. But some girls happen to believe that going to bed with the guy they love is the most important thing there is, so they won't do it to prove anything or just have a fling for themselves, and that's the way Lu is. I admire her for it."
"Okay, you know something? I do too. And I'm sorry as hell I was off base. You know something else, Cash? What you said about Elinor just gave me an idea. I mean about her getting a job. And maybe I'm going to try to do something about myself in that department. I could wait till Dad okays me as a producing salesman, but maybe I can make it on my own somewhere else. I'm a pretty fair mechanic around cars. And as soon as I graduate, I'm going to get me a job and see if I can't earn enough to marry Luana."
"Now you're talking, Phil boy!" Cash applauded.
"I'm glad you didn't go off the deep end yet and try to get yourself another girl, or maybe some easy lay. Like my buddy Paul Ames. Boy, was he taken!"
"Oh, sure, I know him. What happened, Cash?"
"He's had a sort of understanding with that cute junior, you know, the black-haired cunt who writes for the McDougal Daily-what's her name?-oh, yeah, Florence Suttridge. So I guess he was feeling his oats some and propositioned her and she told him to go fly a kite. So his dad took him to New York on a business trip, and what does Paul do but meet some juvenile delinquent in the hotel lobby and pitch to her. He gets her up in his room and she yells rape and he has to shell out every cent he's got. His dad was fit to be tied. Told him if he didn't have good sense enough to know when a pro was over legal age, he ought at least to stay with a good thing when he had it. So now he's back with Florence, and they're engaged and he's going to wait till the knot's tied."
"Whew, that was a narrow escape! He might have got sent to the pen for that."
"You said it, Phil. But that broad was a hustler. My guess is she wasn't under age at all, just dressed like it. The old shakedown. There are plenty of hustlers like that in Chicago. Paul says he just hopes he runs into that tramp again. He'll press charges. And even my dad would take his case. At least scare her so she wouldn't try that stunt again very soon. Well, I've got to be moving along. Good luck with Luana, boy."
"Thanks. I'll need it."
Luana had heard Phil call out to her on campus the day before, and she'd wished she could sink into the ground and be swallowed up. It had been ten days since she had moved into the motel with Edna, Dale and Bonnie. Ten days and ten torturing, guilt-ridden nights. Only the thought of regaining that damning movie had sustained her. And Edna had promised that Saturday night, after one last "date," the movie would be hers to destroy.
On the very first night Luana had moved in with the trio, Edna had demanded "proof" of her cooperativeness by forcing her to undress and submit to skilled and perverse caresses. And with the whip an ever present threat, Luana had been compelled to pay fetishistic homage to the dominatress' glisteningly mirroring boots and gloves. Worst of all, to her own furious chagrin and despair, she had felt herself unable to withstand the salacious enervation which Edna's reciprocal caresses had evoked.
And then, two nights later, a handsome society matron in her late thirties had visited the motel. Edna had ushered her into the room which she and Luana occupied, Dale and Bonnie being in the next cottage. And Kate-a robust, sandy-haired, married woman with four children, introduced to Luana only by her first name-had taken her into the bedroom, fondled and undressed her, with Edna watching, whip in hand, and then made ardent Lesbian love to her till once again Luana's physical urgencies had betrayed her.
And while she lay, trembling, half-swooning, naked on the bed, she had seen Kate rise and walk to the dresser where the matron had laid her alligator-skin purse, open it and take out a sheaf of bills which she handed to Edna. And then she realized that the trap she had unknowingly entered had even more vicious, stigmatizing jaws than she had dreamed. And when, after Kate had dressed and left, she had denounced Edna for prostituting her, Edna had laughed and hissed, "That's my business, darling. Movie film costs money, and after all, if I'm to make you a present of that little show of yours, I expect to get my prifit somehow. Now you just keep your mouth shut and continue to be a good, obedient girl, and I'll keep my bargain on Saturday. We're going to move out of this dump anyway, first thing next week, as soon as Dale and Bonnie finish with their special clients this weekend. Bonnie's down at McDougal today, with Carla, lining up a real big date for herself this Saturday night."
Bonnie Savage was doing exactly that. Pickings had been disappointingly slim the past few weeks, and she, Edna and Dale had just about decided to give Chicago another two weeks at most and then move on to Vegas and L.A. as they'd originally planned. Carla was brokenhearted at the thought of losing contact with Dolly's dearest friends. So Edna had put it to her straight: "If you want us to stay around, honey, the only way to make that possible is for you to help us line up some dales. Now what about some of those wealthy kids you know at college? Bonnie could work her New York gimmick with some stupid young punk with more money than brains, and we'd have a stake that might let us stay on another week or so with you, baby."
Carla had reluctantly agreed. She didn't really want to play the role of procuress, but she was just wild for Edna. In fact, she had discovered that being servile and submissive to the brunette imperatrix excited her more than even her most fervent trysts with poor Dolly.
She had heard that Cash Hanson was going to marry Elinor Darby right after graduation. So he wouldn't be a prospect at all, and she couldn't even expect to get anywhere with him herself. That was too bad, but there'd be others. Besides, right then, she was more interested in having fun with Edna than with any guy.
Nevertheless, she knew of a couple of fellows who came from rich families and were really on the make.
Her friend Elise Denton had been talking about that very thing just last week. There was a junior by the name of Ed Fursley whose folks were always traveling to Europe buying fancy antiques and who himself drove a new Thunderbird and flashed a big roll. He had made a play for Elise, but she wasn't having any. She had also spoken her mind about what she thought about campus wolves who weren't man enough to get themselves a girl but had to rely on money, background and fancy cars to do it for them. So Carla had seen the opportunity to get Bonnie a handsome hunk of that roll and at the same time teach Ed Fursley a lesson in feminine psychology, with an assist from Elise.
It was child's play for her. All she did was agree with Elise and express the opinion that maybe this Ed Fursley needed to be shown up for what he was. Elise, smarting from the egotistical junior's insulting tactics, heartily endorsed the idea. Carla then casually mentioned she had a friend who would like to meet him, and Elise cooperatively pointed him out. He was a big sulky-faced brute wearing clothes that loudly pronounced how much he'd spent on them. And he ogled every pretty girl who walked by, making no bones about it.
So Bonnie, wearing a pullover sweater, short skirt and a beanie Carla had lent her, visited McDougal campus the next afternoon. Carla, having found out what classes Ed Fursley took, arranged for Bonnie to be outside Carder Hall when Ed was leaving his last afternoon class. He paused to grin at her, and from there on, Bonnie took over. Of course Bonnie played it straight. It was for love. It would be Saturday night. She'd told him she'd just transferred from out of town and was staying in the motel, that her folks would be in Sunday. His face lighted up like a Roman candle.
"Boy, will I shake that big blowhard down, Carla," Bonnie boasted. "I wish you could be there to see his face when I spring the statutory rape gag on Mm."
"I better not. Aunt Madge and her new hubby are back now, and he's starting to keep tabs on me, sort of. But maybe I can see you Monday, after school I'll go right out to the motel. Give Edna my love when you get back, Bonnie."
Bonnie winked and gave Carla's arm a squeeze. "I'll do that little thing. And you con do it in person, Monday, baby-doll. See you. Wish me luck with the chump, huh?"
"Take him for every cent he's got. It'll keep you and Dale'n Edna around all that much longer," Carla called. She watched Bonnie walk quickly away through the arched passageway between Jennings and Allison Halls, out to the street.
A brown-haired serious-faced senior who had been reading a letter from his father as he sat on the circular stone bench in front of the War Memorial Fountain, looked up. His eyes widened. Then, stuffing the letter into his pocket, he jumped up and called out, "Hey, wait!"
Carla turned. She saw him running toward her. Panic-stricken, she turned and ran through the passageway, pushing her way through a group of students, crossed the street and disappeared down the walk leading to the garden of one of the professors' houses.
"What's the excitement about, Paul?" Phil Corcoran shouldered his way through the meandering students and patted the angry senior on the back.
"Phil-hi! Say, I just saw a ghost. Well, not a ghost, but the broad that shook me down in that New York hotel a couple months ago. You remember, I told you."
"Oh, sure. You mean the cunt that lured you on and then hollered rape."
"That's the one. She was wearing a beanie, and she was with a sexy redhead. I've seen the redhead before. She's a student here. Now what the hell do you think the two of them were doing together?"
"Beats me. But let's try to find out. Got any idea who the redhead is?"
"No. Say, wait a minute. Come to think of it, Florence might know her, Phil. Florence is a DKP, you know. And she was telling me a while back that Elinor Darby was mad as hell at some red-haired pledge who'd been making a play for her boy friend."
"That'd be Cash Hanson. All I have to do is ask Cash. He'd tell you soon enough if it was the same gal. Why don't I call him at his dad's law office? Maybe he can help us out."
"No doubt about it, Paul. From the way you describe her, that Carla Dornell. Yep, she's the freshie that tried to get me to leave Elinor in the lurch."
Phil Corcoran had given Paul McHenry Cash Denton's number. And Cash had agreed to meet them both downtown after work. They were enjoying the featured mutton chops and a yard of ale at King Arthur's Pub on Wells and Adams, just a block away from where Cash worked.
"What do you think we ought to do, Cash?" Phil asked. "You know how Paul got taken by that little bitch. And he's sure it was the same one he saw talking to Carla this afternoon."
"Simplest thing is to find out where she lives and go out and see her and get her to tell you where this friend of hers is staying."
"Tomorrow's Friday. But the dean's office wouldn't give out anybody's home address just like that," Paul scratched his head perplexedly.
"I've just had a brainstorm. You know, my fiancee's prexy at DKP, and this Carla Dornell was one of the pledges they initiated during their Mad March Midnight. Every pledge's address and phone number is in the sorority roster. All I have to do is oill Elinor and she'll give it to me."
"Good boy!" Phil chortled. "Then maybe the three of us can pay a little visit to this cute little conniver and find out where she comes in being palsiewalsies with a tramp like that."
"My dad hasn't let me forget what a sucker I was, ever since it happened," Paul dolefully declaimed. "If I could catch up with her, even if I didn't get my money back, he'd sure have more respect for me. And I would for myself too. But I'm sticking to Florence from now on. Soon as I get me a decent job next fall, I'll marry her if she'll still have me."
"I guess marriage is in the air, all right," Phil chuckled. Then he sighed. "I wouldn't mind it myself, now that you mention it. If Luana'll still have me."
"I'll go call Elinor right now," Cash offered, getting up from the table and making his way down the narrow aisle past the open grill where white-hatted chefs were broiling steaks and mutton chops and where an eye catching glass tank full of live lobsters stood next to a broad wine rack....
"Hey, I struck pay dirt, guys!" Cash flung himself down in his seat, his eyes sparkling.
"Did you get her address?" Paul eagerly asked.
"That and a lot more. Phil, did you know your girl friend Luana was Carla's Big Sister and sponsor for that initiation?"
"No, I didn't."
"Elinor says she made it real tough on the redhead. And Carla and Luana got real thick. They spent the night together at her place after the ceremonies. In fact, Luana almost told Elinor off because she was so mean to poor little Carla."
"Then maybe Carla might know where Luana's staying-it might just be Luana's in touch with her," Phil blurted.
"Whaddya say we go pay the redhead a visit right now?" Cash proffered.
"I say yes," Paul rose, his lips tightening.
"Oh-h-hello, Cash," Carla quavered as she opened the front door.
"Hi, Carla. My two friends here want to talk to you. Can we come in?"
"I-I guess so. My-my aunt and uncle are out to a movie-"
"We won't take long. All we want is some information."
"All-all right." Carla stepped back, her eyes nervously shifting to each of the three young men who entered.
"Now look, Carla, I want you to level with me," Cash went right to the attack. "This is Phil Corcoran-Luana Matthews' fiance. You've heard of him, haven't you?"
"Yes...."
"And this is Paul McHenry. He's got something he wants to ask you first. Go ahead, old son."
Carla, in a red satin bolero jacket and matching toreador pants and high-heeled sandals, backed away. She had just recognized the man who had run after her that afternoon.
"I--I didn't do anything," she quavered.
"There's a guilty conscience if I ever saw one," Cash declared.
"That's your legal training, boy. Give the poor girl a chance," Phil chuckled. "Carla, we didn't say you did anything at all. But Paul here saw you with a girl on campus this afternoon. He thinks he knows her. Do you know where to find her?"
"No-she-she was just visiting this one day-"
"I don't buy that," Paul interrupted. "She had a beanie on and you two were thick as thieves. And then when I yelled at you because I wanted to talk to you, you ran as if I'd yelled 'Stop thief.' Now what gives?"
"You-you've got no right to force yourselves in here and-and-bully me!"
"If you're in cahoots with a dirty little hustler that shakes guys down for dough, we've got every right, and you might find yourself behind bars too," Cash warned.
"Now what's her name and where's she staying?" Paul pursued.
Carla frantically looked around for a way to escape. But Cash had planted himself behind her, blocking the exit from the living room, and the two others faced her.
"And where's Luana?" Phil tersely asked. "I-I don't have to tell you a thing. I don't know-"
"You know," Cash grimly declared. "Elinor tells me she gave this pledge the works. I'm for giving her another initiation right now till she speaks her piece."
"You-you wouldn't dare-"
"Wouldn't we?" Paul chuckled, behind her. And seizing her by the shoulders, he hustled her over to the davenport, sat down and flung her over his lap, holding her down with both hands. "Swats, fellows!"
"Noo-oww-stop-ouch-ohh, that hurts owweeel Please-ahrr-oh, you're hurting meee Owwwwwwwooooo! let up-I'll tell, I'll tell!" Carla screamed as both Phil and Cash began to spank her in unison.
"Don't let her up till she gives us all the dope we want," Phil commanded, continuing to bring down his heavy right hand with solid impact on the tightest curves of Carla's clinging black satin pants. Paul had flung his right leg over the redhead's wriggling calves, using both hands to pin her down.
"Eyakrrr! Owww, please, no more, I'll talk, I'll talk!" Carla shrilled as a pair of particularly violent smacks flattened her upturned hindquarters.
"Go ahead, then! We've only just warmed up," Phil warned. "Now, where's Luana?"
"And who's that girl you were with today?" Paul added.
Carla began to sob, trying to get her breath. But Phil and Cash mistook this for hesitation, and resumed. They didn't have to, for long. Carla was ready to talk and talk plenty. Even about the setup Bonnie Savage was preparing for unsuspecting Ed Fursley.
"That must be my sucker now," Bonnie giggled. She had her hair in pony-tail, was wearing white satin pajamas and high-heeled black leather pumps. Dale, fully dressed, giggled and nodded. "I'll hide in the closet till you give the high sign, honey. Make it good."
"I'll have him panting for it when I yell, sweetie," Bonnie promised as she walked to the door of the motel cottage to answer the knock.
"Who is it?" she cooed, her face against the door.
"It's Ed, baby. Open up. Haven't we got a date?"
"We sure have, honey. There we are-hey-who's that other guy-?"
She stumbled back as big Ed Fursley and Paul McHenry pushed their way in. "Dale, help," she yelled. But it didn't do any good. There was a policeman with the two of them, and he came in just as Dale came out of the closet with a toy gun in her hand.
"I'll handle this myself, Cash. And thanks a mil lion," Phil said as he walked to the door of the adjoining motel cottage.
"I'll stay outside just in case. If that Edna dame is holding Lu prisoner, you might be in for a rough time."
He knocked. A vibrant contralto voice wanted to know, "Who is it, please?"
"She's a lady, anyway," Cash whispered.
"Sure. A lady from hell, from all that kooky little cunt told us. It's Phil Corcoran. I want to see my fiancee, Luana."
"She's not here. I don't know whom you mean. There's only myself in this cottage. Now go away and don't disturb me."
"Like hell," Phil grated. "If you don't open the door, we've got a policeman here'll break it down for you."
And just then he heard a girl's voice cry out, "Oh, Phil, help me-please!"
"Come on, Cash, let's go through left tackle for dear old McDougal," he turned to his friend. And the two hurled themselves against the motel cottage door. On the third try, it gave way and they entered just in time to grab Edna, who was trying to run away. She lacked and cursed at them as they held her and dragged her outside, where the policeman who had arrested Dale and Bonnie was putting the two fuming beauties into a squad car. Edna was quickly handcuffed and invited to ride along with her two associates. Paul was going along to prefer charges. And Cash, after one look at Phil's face, decided he'd furnish legal advice to Paul....
Luana lay on the bed in only her panty girdle and bra, her wrists tied behind her back. And Edna's leather whip lay beside her, bright weals on her slim thighs and pink-sheened back attesting to its very recent usage.
"That vicious bitch-my poor Lu-and it's all my fault," he groaned as he untied her bonds. She flung her arms around him and burst into hysterical sobs.
"It's all right, baby, it's all right," he soothed her, holding her close and kissing away her tears. "Carla's told me the whole dirty story. It wasn't you at all. They put stuff in your drink and got you to smoke pot, and you were all upset because I was a pigheaded idiot just forget all about it."
"Oh, Phil-I c-can't-I-I was a shameless shit, just like-"
He silenced her with a kiss. "I don't ever want to hear that kind of talk again from my wife."
"Your w-wife?"
"That's right. Look. I want you just as much as I ever did, maybe even more. And I know you want me."
"But we can't-"
"Listen, you gorgeous, mixed-up little piece Cash and Elinor are getting married right after Elinor graduates. She's going to get herself a job. And you know something better?"
"T-tell me, darling," she sniffed, her brimming eyes adoringly fixed on his purposeful, handsome face.
"I went to see Al Evarts, the big Chevy distributor, this morning. I'm a pretty fair mechanic if I do say so myself. Anyway, he's offered me a job at a hundred-ten a week, starting in July. I'll go in late afternoons and some evenings and learn the setup, so I'll be ready full-time when he starts me on the payroll. And if we need more dough than that, you can always get an office job or something, can't you?"
"Oh, yes, darling, yes!" she breathed.
"So now that's settled. Are you going to marry me? I won't be such a stupid sap as a husband as I was lately, I can promise you that."
"Phil...."
"What, beautiful?"
"Would you like to prove that statement right now?"
"Lu-don't tease a guy-I can only take so much."
"But-but this time, Phil, I want to give. So very much. I want to show you I wasn't just holding out till I got the ring, so you'd know I wasn't a little gold digger-"
"Lu-we better not ... because if I start something I can't finish, we'd only break up again-"
"Who said you wouldn't finish it? Unless you're not the man you've been trying to show me you are all this time, darling."
With her own quivering fingers, she unhooked the bra. Phil Corcoran uttered a cry of dazzled amiration and desire.
"Better make sure that front door stays closed, darling. You once accused me of being a tease, and I accused you of wanting a free peepshow. Well, right now, I don't feel like a tease and I want to give you and only you a peepshow nobody else will ever see."
"I'll make sure it's closed, you beautiful, four-eyed blonde baggage, you!"
He got off the bed and walked into the living room. The door closed. Perhaps the key didn't work any more, but there was a bolt which could be drawn. And it was.
And then the bedroom door was closed, too. And by the time that detail had been taken care of, Phil found his fiancee awaiting him, wearing just her harlequin glasses.
