"Get out, you phony ass!" she snapped, lashing at him in sudden fury. "You're not getting me in the sack!"
Dave swallowed hard. He was looking at an exotic redhead who wasn't going to put out for him, because he didn't have the money she wanted. He glowered at her as the terrible rage triggered by her remarks burned brightly in his brain and consumed his body.
"Get your clothes off before I rip them off!" he snarled, his voice menacing. "You gonna fight me some more or are you gonna lay for me?"
"You can have me," she said, her voice breaking.
He moved into her embrace and pushed her back on the bed. His lips mashed greedily against hers, and his tongue penetrated her mouth. His hands filled with the fullness of soft breasts and he molded them eagerly in hot hands. Her legs spread and raised, and he fell between them and felt her hands on him, guiding him. He gave a lunge and felt his body penetrate hers.
Then her hips were moving automatically, beneath him, couching his thrusts, timing them to her own. He rammed his body at her and felt a giddy sensation flow through him, as the soft body beneath him grew warm and trembling.
He was a little man in one department but a very big man in another, and he knew he had surprised the prostitute. He could tell in the quickening of her motions and the growing warmth of her body.
"Take it easy," she hissed.
He grunted and forced her legs over his shoulders. Then he leaned his weight over her doubled-up body and slammed his loins at her taut buttocks.
She quivered and jerked and then her body grew hot, and demanding hands clenched his buttocks and pulled him toward her in an ever-increasing tempo. He covered her lips with his and pounded away at her body. He felt her muscles contracting deep within her body, closing around him like a tight, punishing fist.. . .
CHAPTER ONE
Sunlight drenched the shabby bedroom, heightening the stale odor of unwashed diapers coming from the connecting bathroom.
Dave Gourmley turned over in bed. His arm struck flesh. Soft flesh. He opened one eye and stared at the thrusting creamy breast that poked out over the top of the low-cut silk nightgown Patsy wore.
He opened his other eye and raised himself on his elbows and stared at the inviting mound of flesh bared to his gaze. He licked dry lips and felt a soft tingling warmth begin in his loins and slowly enflame his entire body. He shot a glance at his wife's face.
She lay on her back, her mouth hanging wide open, snoring in her sleep.
He wrinkled his nose in disgust and with one hand threw off the covering sheet. Bare thighs greeted his gaze. Fleshy thighs spread apart, the nightie pushed up around her waist. Spread open thighs inviting attack.
Dave Gourmley licked dry lips and moved carefully so as not to awaken Patsy, his body throbbing with passion. It had been over a week since he had made love to his wife and that was six days longer than he could wait. Dave Gourmley was a man who thrived on sex. Once every morning and once every night.
He was on his knees now, straddling her prone body. He positioned himself and then made a deep thrust, joining their bodies together.
Patsy did not awaken. She groaned in her sleep and her head lulled to one side.
Dave let out his breath and began to piston slowly and easily against her flesh, his weight resting on his arms. Her breath hit him in the face as she moved her head, and he swore softly to himself.
Nothing had been right since the kid had been born, he thought. Before the kid, Patsy had been extremely passionate and willing to make love whenever he wanted to. In fact there had been times when he'd been too tired to make love, but she'd wanted to, anyway. Now those days were gone forever. Since the kid had been born six months ago, Patsy had lost all interest in sex.
She complained she was tired all the time. She didn't feel like making love. Nothing he did brought about the desired results. And as the months rolled by, Patsy began to put on added weight in all the wrong places.
She had always been a stocky, big-boned woman but one with a nice figure and an abundance of breast and buttock. She had kept herself clean and sweet smelling for him. Now she was fat and slovenly and her looks were dissipating. She was no longer the pretty, clean, sweet-smelling girl he had married. She seldom took a bath or used cosmetics. She was too tired to care how she looked to him. As a result they had been growing farther and farther apart.
All these thoughts raced through Dave Gourmley's mind, as he began pistoning his hips lightly against his sleeping wife's body.
It's hell when a man has to stoop to raping his sleeping wife, he thought with sadistic pleasure. Well, he had needs that had to be satisfied. He craved sex. He couldn't do without it. All his life sex had been his greatest need, and during his carefree bachelor days he had never gone longer than a day or two at the most without a good old-fashioned sex romp with a dame.
Patsy stirred and her head turned. She opened her eyes.
He held his breath and thrust his loins hotly against her fleshy body. He moved his lips to cover her mouth, ignoring her foul breath that filled his nostrils. His hands cupped cool buttocks.
Patsy broke the kiss and shoved him roughly off her.
He rolled to one side and cursed her under his breath.
"What the hell you think you're doing?" Patsy said, sitting up in bed and pushing her breast inside her nightie.
Dave wiped his mouth off.
"What the hell you think I'm doing?"
Patsy stared angrily at him and wrinkled her pug nose in sudden distaste.
"You know I don't feel like doing it in the morning."
"You don't feel like doing it at night, either," he said sharply.
Dave felt his body throb with passion. He curled his hands into tight fists and glared at her.
"Maybe tonight," Patsy said. "We'll see."
Dave laughed gutturally.
"You've been saying that for a week!"
Patsy shot him a look of pure anger. Her double chin trembled, as she opened her mouth to speak. She looked like she was ready to cry. Then, without speaking, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and lumbered to her feet.
Dave sat up and watched the folds of the nightie slide down across mammoth hips and fleshy buttocks.
"It's late," Patsy said, as she moved into the connecting bathroom. "You better get ready for work."
Dave fumbled on the bedside stand for cigarettes and lighter. He poked a cigarette in the corner of his mouth and lit it casually. Then he leaned back against the headboard and dragged the smoke deep into his lungs and exhaled slowly.
He crossed his legs and looked down at his toes and almost laughed at the ludicrous sight he made. The throbbing passion raging throughout his body tormented him. He cursed Patsy angrily and smashed the cigarette out in the ash tray and got wearily to his feet.
He waited in the open bathroom doorway until Patsy lumbered out, stifling a big yawn with one hand. He held his nose as he moved by the diaper bucket and reached into the shower and turned on the taps. After regulating the water he stepped into the shower stall and soaped his body thoroughly and then let the hot water rinse him off.
He was ready to step out, when he noticed the hot shower had stimulated his already enflamed desire. He groaned and turned on the cold water full force and meshed his teeth together, as the icy spray beat at his feverish body for several minutes. Slowly the desire in his loins ebbed and the fire went out in his belly. Then he turned off the water and stepped out of the stall and dried himself off with a fluffy white towel.
The smell of fried bacon and eggs drifted into the bathroom, mingling with the putrid diaper smell, as he was shaving. The odor made him wretch. He mentally damned Patsy again and patted after-shave lotion on his face, combed his hair, and then moved into the kitchen.
Patsy was still wearing the wrinkled nightgown. She was pouring his coffee and putting the mug on the table beside the plate of unappetizing bacon and eggs, as he sat down at the table.
One look at the burned food was enough to curdle his stomach. The bacon was burned black and the eggs had been fried a solid brown. They suddenly made him think of something else and he gagged.
"You want anything else, honey?" Patsy inquired in a sleepy voice.
He picked up his mug and sipped the scalding hot coffee.
"No, thanks. This is fine."
"Think I'll go back to bed," Patsy said, as she leaned down to kiss him on the cheek. "Baby's not due to wake up for half an hour yet."
Dave nodded and held his coffee cup in one hand.
"You do that, honey. See you tonight."
He raised the cup to his lips.
Patsy waddled out of the kitchen, swinging the door shut behind her.
Dave drank his coffee slowly. Then he picked up his untouched plate and moved to the sink and turned on the tap and washed the food down the garbage disposal. He flicked on the switch, destroying the evidence, then he stacked the dishes in the sink and moved to the back door.
He drove quickly to a nearby coffee shop and wolfed down a plate of pancakes. He was on his second cup of coffee and third cigarette, when the redhead sat down on the stool next to him.
Dave looked at her and choked. Hot, blinding passion ripped through his loins, as he took in the too-tight red dress, low-cut bodice and slit sides of her skirt. Big, thrusting breasts filled the bodice of her dress, and bare tanned legs greeted his quick appraisal. The redhead was a bundle of screaming sex. Dave reached for his coffee cup and noticed his hand was trembling.
The redhead turned to him, a cigarette dangling between painted lips. She flashed him a warm smile.
"Hi," she said. "Got a light?"
Dave fumbled in his coat pocket and drew out his lighter. She leaned over as he ignited it. The bodice of her dress fell open and he stared down into the lush valley between her bobbing breasts and choked.
"Thanks," she said, straightening up on the stool.
"My pleasure," Dave said, smiling.
She looked at him. Blue eyes twinkled. Red lips curved in a bright smile.
"You're nice," she said, a lilt in her voice.
Dave Gourmley had been around. He'd known a lot of women in his young lifetime, and he recognized a hustler when he saw one. This girl was a pro. Everything about her screamed it. And right then she was exactly what Dave Gourmley needed most.
"May I buy you a cup of coffee?" Dave asked, still smiling.
She met his gaze and he could see her pondering the idea in her simple brain.
"I don't know you," she said demurely. "We ain't been introduced."
"I'm Dave. Dave.. . Gordon."
"Shelly Mazurski," she said. "Pleased to meet you."
"Now about that coffee?"
She threw back her head and laughed easily.
"We're acquainted," she said. "So why not?"
He laughed with her. He liked her laugh. It was soft and melodic and vibrating.
Hot passion pulsated within his body. Perspiration beaded his brow and soaked his tight collar. He knew Shelly was a working pro and he wanted her. Hell, he needed her.
They drank their coffee and made small conversation. When he suggested perhaps he could drop her somewhere she accepted his invitation and walked out to his car with him.
"Gee, I like these little foreign cars," she said, as she climbed inside the five-year-old Alpha.
"Where to?" he asked, getting behind the wheel. "You name it."
She watched him, blue eyes guarded.
"Where would you like to go, Dave?"
Her voice vibrated with undertones of intimacy.
He met her gaze sharply.
"I'd like to go to bed with you."
She flashed him a bright smile.
"It'll cost you."
"How much?"
"Twenty bucks," she said, without batting an eyelash.
Dave gulped. Twenty bucks was fifteen more than he had in his billfold, but his need was too great to deny. He turned the ignition on and the car roared to life. He pulled the Alpha out into traffic.
"Tell me the way," he said quickly.
She gave him the address and settled back on her seat while he drove there.
Then he helped her out of the car and together they walked into a brownstone building and up to the second floor, where she opened her door with the key and led him inside.
The building was old and run down, and garbage cans littered the dark hallway, but inside her flat it was bright and cheery.
Dave moved around the small two-room flat as she locked the door. Then he followed her into the bedroom.
"Nice place," Dave said.
She turned to face him, her face showing no emotion.
"Pay me," she said.
Dave pretended not to hear her. He'd known broads before who had put out for money, but who liked to yell and scream when they didn't get paid. He couldn't take any chances with this one.
He moved to the portable radio by the windows and snapped it on.
"Let's have some music while we make love," he said, turning the volume high.
She moved to him.
"There won't be any love without the twenty bucks," she said, her voice hard. "You got it?"
He faced her and laughed softly. "No," he said.
She cursed him crudely.
He stood and stared at her and felt his smile growing wider and wider.
"Get out!" she snapped, lashing at him in sudden fury. "You phony ass! Nice car and clothes and no money! Well, you're not getting me in the sack! Now get your cheap ass out of here before I call the landlord."
Dave threw back his head and laughed softly. The landlord was her pimp! That was a new one. Well, he wouldn't give her a chance to call anybody.
"Get undressed," he said, shrugging out of his coat. "I want you."
She placed her hands on her wide hips and spread her long legs and glared down at him.
"You're a little runt," she said, sneering. "I'm an expert at karate. Now you can try and force me and end up with your face pushed in, or you can get the hell out!"
Dave swallowed hard. He was a small, mild-looking little man, and his size had always been a thorn in his ego. He'd always had to look up at people, and it had never failed to gall him.
Now he was looking up at an exotic redhead who wasn't going to put out for him, because he didn't have the money. And now she had threatened him with karate!
He glowered at her as the terrible rage triggered by her remarks burned brightly in his brain and consumed his body, "Get your clothes off before I rip them off!" he snarled, his voice menacing.
A flash of fear shone in her blue eyes momentarily and then was gone. She stood her ground and watched him undo his tie and throw it on the floor.
Then he unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged out of it. He wore nothing beneath the shirt. He watched her eyes light up as her gaze flitted across his well-developed hairy chest. He grinned lewdly.
"Get with it!" he snarled.
"Make me!"
He feinted his left shoulder and saw her right hand stiffen and chop down toward his neck. He whirled and caught her wrist and pivoted quickly, letting her momentum carry her flying across his shoulder.
She crashed headlong into the side of the bed and fell to her hands and knees, momentarily stunned.
He pounced on her back like a cat, one arm snaking around her neck, forcing her head back, as his legs locked around her waist in a tight scissors hold.
She screamed low in her throat and tried to throw him off, but he tightened his neck hold and the scream died in her throat and the fight went out of her. She began to sob convulsively.
"You gonna fight me some more or are you gonna lay for me?"
"Let me up," she said, her voice breaking. "You can have me."
He unlocked his legs and got to his feet, dragging her with him, his arm still crooked around her neck.
"Try anything funny and I'll really work you over," he grated, the threat evident in the harsh deadliness of his voice.
He let go of her and stepped away.
She began fumbling with zippers and buttons and stripping off her clothes.
When she was down to bra and panties he opened his belt buckle and unzipped his pants and pushed pants and shorts to his ankles and stepped out of them. Then he kicked off his shoes and moved toward her.
She turned to face him, full thrusting breasts swaying, her arms opening.
He moved into her embrace and pushed her back on the bed. His lips mashed greedily against hers, his tongue penetrating her mouth. His hands filled with the fullness of soft breasts and he moulded them eagerly in hot hands. Her legs spread and raised, and he fell between them and felt her hands on him, guiding him, He gave a lunge and felt his body penetrate hers.
Then her hips were moving automatically beneath him, couching his thrusts, timing them to her own.
He rammed his body at her and felt a giddy sensation flow through him, as the soft body beneath him grew warm and trembling.
He was a little man in one department but a very big man in another, and he knew he had surprised the prostitute. He could tell in the quickening of her motions and the growing warmth of her body.
"Take it easy," she hissed.
He grunted and forced her legs over his shoulders. Then he leaned his weight over her doubled-up body and slammed his loins at her taut buttocks.
She quivered and jerked and then her body grew hot, and demanding hands clenched his buttocks and pulled him toward her in an ever-increasing tempo.
He covered her lips with his and pounded away at her body, until he felt her muscles contracting deep within her body, closing around him like a tight, punishing fist.
She bucked once and then the explosion wracked his body, and he collapsed weakly atop her.
"You're quite a little man," she said softly in his ear.
Anger gnawed at him. Little man struck a nerve. He didn't like it.
"Not so little when it comes to sex," he snapped. "You haven't had 'em much bigger!"
"Only a couple of times," she admitted. "Big, brutish guys. I don't usually take on the big ones unless I'm hard up."
He began to move his hips again as a new wave of desire coursed through his body. He saw her smile and her eyes lit up.
"My," she said. "Been a long time for you?"
"Too long," he said, grunting, as he labored to achieve the second rush into ecstasy. "Single?"
"No. Married. To a slob. She doesn't like it any more."
"Any girl who doesn't like what you've got is nuts, honey," she said, her hips lifting him off the bed and then cushioning him as he slammed her back into the mattress.
"I'm gonna see you again," he said, as he reached a blinding climax and spent his life force in her.
He rolled off her, spent and weary.
She sat up in bed and leaned over him so that her large thrusting breasts dangled over his face.
"Not without twenty bucks you're not," she said.
He reached up and caught her shoulders and pulled her down to him. A hard erect nipple grazed his cheek. He turned his face, his lips gobbling the stiff nipple and biting it gently with his teeth. She yelped and jerked away, but he drew her down to him again and inhaled the warm sweet smell of her flesh. He suckled her breast, drawing as much of it as he could into the cavern of his mouth.
She smiled at him, her eyes gleaming, and let him have his way.
He moved to her other breast and worshipped it longingly with his lips and tongue.
Passion reared to life within his body and her hands massaged him to a pulsating readiness. This time she moved to hands and knees, and he crawled behind her and filled his hands with her breasts. She lowered her head and spread her legs, and he thrust his passion into her ready body and took her quickly.
She lay on the bed and watched him dress when he was finished.
He took the five-dollar bill out of his wallet and extended it toward her.
She looked at him, a smile curving her lips.
"Here. This is all I've got. Take it." She shook her head.
"This one was on the house. Next time bring twenty bucks or forget it."
He put the money back in his wallet and lingered in the doorway of her bedroom, his eyes flitting over her nude body. She was really built and as good in bed as she looked.
He knew he wanted her again but twenty dollars was more than he could afford. One hundred and ten dollars a week just didn't stretch very far. Not with groceries, baby food, doctor bills, rent, utilities and car payments. He couldn't afford more than five bucks a week.
"I can't afford it," he said quietly, with regret. "I wish I could."
She nodded, the hard look back on her face again.
"It figures. Married to a fat slob. Kids too?"
"One," he said. "Six months old." She frowned.
"The old rat race. A wife who doesn't care enough for you to take care of your needs. A kid neither one of you really wanted. A job you hate and a house that keeps you broke. Right?"
Dave sighed and nodded.
"On all points," His eyes lingered on her exquisite body. "I wish I could come back, but I know you wouldn't consider another free handout."
She shook her head.
MI like you, Dave. You're a real expert at lovemaking, but I'm a practical girl. I enjoy sex, but I like the money a lot more. It's strictly business with me except now and then when I find a stud like you. And when I do I stop it the first time out. A girl could get used to having a man like you around, and I can't afford it. Know what I mean?"
He nodded wearily. The prostitute didn't want to get hung up on him.
"Yeah," he said. "I'm sorry."
She got to her feet and glided across the rug toward him.
He watched her naked body move sensually. The palms of his hands perspired. A tiny pulse beat in his temple. He wanted her again, but his body was without capability of acting.
"Goodbye, Dave," she said. "Call me any time you get the loot." He turned to go.
"I'll never have twenty bucks I can call my own," he said harshly, feeling helpless in his own inadequacy. "Maybe I'll find another hooker like you."
She spun him around to face her. Her face hard, her eyes cold, glittering gems.
"Don't ever try what you did with me on another pro!" Her voice was icy. "Prostitution in this town is well organized. We've got protection! The other girls wouldn't hesitate a second in putting the finger on you! The muscle boys would really stove you in! Those goons keep welchers from cheating the girls. You got lucky this time. I've got a soft spot in my heart for guys like you who can really turn a girl on. The other hustlers in town aren't like me! So if you're gonna pull this little caper again, you better make sure your mark isn't a working hustler!"
Dave stared at her, feeling empty and deflated. The idea had been a good one. He had pulled it off successfully with her. He was sure he could do it again to another hustler. Now he realized it was no good. The word about the goons had sobered him. A piece of tail wasn't worth a smashed body.
"You know I can't touch an amateur," he said, scoffing. "That would be rape!" Shelly laughed.
"So it's rape. So what? You'll be doing some nice little virgin a favor. Believe me! I know!"
He thought about it long after he left Shelly's apartment and went about making his rounds of the grocery stores in his territory.
He mechanically checked the stock on the shelves, set up new displays, wrote out orders and dutifully had the store managers sign them.
Why not? Hell, he could sweet talk the babes. He used to do it in the days before he'd met and married Patsy. And that had been only two years ago. Hell, he was short, but he wasn't bad looking and he had a gift of gab. He could dance with the best of them and turn on the old charm and romance the dolls again.
Then he groaned. Romancing the babes meant working capital, and he was strapped. He had five dollars a week he could call his own, and most of it went to buy his lunches and put gas in his car. The rest of his salary went for the necessary expenses he had been saddled with since marrying Patsy. So romancing the chicks was out.
Hell, he couldn't even walk into a bar and have a couple of drinks and make a pickup. Even that took money, and he couldn't afford to cut down on his car or business expenses. To do that would be sheer folly. Sales were in direct proportion to calls made and his sales were already at the danger level. He just couldn't take the chance.
He moved into the daylight and got inside his car and drove slowly toward home. There was only one other solution. Patsy. He would have to romance his wife and try and recapture the rapture and thrill of their first year of marriage before she got pregnant.
A twinge of pleasure shot up and down his spine, as he thought about Patsy the way she'd been that first year.
Naked and desirable and eager to make love. She had always been ready for a good sex bout in bed. Morning and night on week days and morning, noon and night on week ends. She'd given him plenty of loving then. And she'd gotten his system used to it. Now she practically cut sex out of their lives altogether, and he was craving it madly.
Shelly had fixed him up this morning. He had lucked out with her. Now he had to find a way to fire Patsy's passion again and keep it flaming.
Either that or become a rapist of young women.
Suddenly he felt buoyant and full of power. A power like he had never felt before.
He had raped Shelly, hadn't he? He had raped her and made her like it. So why couldn't he find other women and take them by surprise and rape them and make them enjoy it too? A prostitute was the toughest nut in the world to crack. He had cracked Shelly. She had really enjoyed making it with him. Other women would enjoy it too.
The thought left him giddy. He drove quickly home, anxious for another day to begin.
I'll give Patsy a good try, and if she doesn't come across and start putting out regularly again, then I'll put operation rape into action, he told himself.
Dave Gourmley, the rapist!
He chuckled as the picture filled his mind's eyes. Hell, it would be a new kick!
As he drove the Alpha into his driveway he almost hoped Patsy would be her old cold bitchy self again tonight.
CHAPTER TWO
Patsy was in the kitchen feeding the baby, when Dave walked into the house. She was still attired in the wrinkled nightie, and the baby was wearing a dirty, stained diaper and nothing else.
Patsy frowned as he came up behind her and planted a kiss on her cheek.
He pushed his body lightly against her protruding posterior and felt a jolt of passion rock through his body.
"Hi, baby. What's for dinner? I'm famished!"
"Nothing till you go to the store," Patsy commented crankily. "The baby's had the colic all day, and I've been jumping ever since I got up. Haven't even had a chance to get dressed."
Dave turned away from the sight of his unkempt wife and baby and felt his stomach churning. He gripped the edge of the sink with both hands and steeled himself to turn around and look at his slovenly wife and force a smile on his lips.
"What do we need?"
"I made a list. It's on the drain board," she said.
He found the list soaking in spilled milk and grimaced, as he dried it with a sponge and then folded it neatly and put it in his suit coat pocket.
"I'll be back in an hour," he said, moving toward the back door without looking at wife or child.
Patsy made no comment.
He drove quickly to the nearest supermarket and methodically bought the items Patsy had scrawled on the dampened list.
A cute little blonde popped up in an aisle before him, bending over to reach a lower shelf. Her skirt pulled against taut buttocks and firm, shapely legs.
Dave stopped and felt his eyes bug out, as he stared at her tempting flesh. He felt his passion boom to life and he caught his breath and swore softly to himself, as the blonde raised up and deposited the cans into her shopping cart.
She turned to rake him with a sharp glance, and he caught sight of firmly chiseled features and arching breasts before she turned and moved away, saucy buttocks winking at him, as she swayed gracefully down the aisle.
Dave licked dry lips. Sweat beaded his brow as he followed the blonde down the aisle and around a corner and into another aisle. He forgot his shopping list, as his gaze riveted to the blonde's shapely buttocks and trim young legs and juggling breasts moving tantalizingly before him.
The blonde caught him following her and frowned.
Dave quickly covered his embarrassment by taking a jug of red wine from a shelf and placing it in his basket.
The blonde spun to face him, hands spread across the curve of her hips, breasts poking out like howitzers.
Dave did the only thing he could. He flashed her his sexiest smile as he moved his cart by her and went on down the aisle. He felt the blonde's eyes on him until he turned a corner and raced for a check stand.
Patsy was still in the wrinkled nightie as he entered the kitchen with two sacks of groceries. She brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes and began putting the groceries away.
Dave stood and leaned against the door and smoked a cigarette thoughtfully, as his eyes played on fleshy thighs, meaty buttocks and thrusting breasts juggling softly with her movements.
It was all he could do to stand there and know she was naked beneath her nightie and not take her. He willed his body to remain quiet and be patient.
Tonight, he thought, after dinner. We'll drink the wine and get in the mood, and then maybe she'll want to do it.
He changed clothes and took a cold shower to dampen his ardor and make the waiting easier. Then he dressed in casual sport slacks and shirt and moved out onto the front porch to pick up the evening paper. He came back inside and sprawled on the couch on his back and read the newspaper from cover to cover.
Once or twice Patsy moved through the room, but he ignored her and she paid him no attention.
A cool breeze sprang up near dusk and the baby quieted down and went to sleep for the night.
Patsy put on the spaghetti sauce and cooked it slowly and then asked him to stir it from time to time, while she cleaned up.
Dave felt his heart leap in his chest. He had a good feeling all of a sudden. Patsy was going to take a bath and perfume her body and be ready for lovemaking tonight!
Dave hummed to himself as he stood before the hot stove and stirred the meat sauce and listened happily to the sounds of Patsy splashing around in the tub in the bathroom. Just the thought of her naked in the tub was enough to arouse his passion again. He wanted her. He needed her. Lord, he had to have her! It would be all he could do to wait until the time was right and Patsy had drunk enough wine to put her in a loving mood.
Dave tasted the sauce and found it delicious, just the way he liked it.
He thought of Patsy and recalled the numerous times when they had been first married, and he had always made her drink wine with him until she had been carried away to a point where she got all hot and bothered and practically raped him.
Those had been the good times, the times when they had gone at each other like a pair of animals in lust and had made love two and three times before falling exhausted into a deep sleep.
Hell, Dave thought, I should have remembered the wine bit long before now!
Patsy came into the kitchen dressed in a print dress and sandals. . She had brushed her hair back and tied it in a pony tail, and her eyes were clear and her face almost pretty.
Dave looked at her and felt a bolt of passion reverberate through his body. He smiled at her, took her into his arms and kissed her on her red lips. Her breath was fresh. She had even brushed her teeth.
Patsy served the meal and they ate slowly and drank the red wine.
Patsy flashed him a smile once the meal was over.
He refilled her wine glass and glowered, as he recalled that the third glass of wine had always been the one to trigger her passions.
"Let's have some more wine," Dave said lightly, leaping to his feet.
Patsy drained her glass and held it out as he picked up the jug and refilled her glass.
"It's good, honey," she said. "I always did like wine."
Dave refilled his own glass for the fourth time and drained it quickly. His head buzzed, and he knew he had reached the plateau he had been searching for. One more wouldn't hurt anything. One more glass and he could make love to his wife all night long.
Patsy stifled a yawn and grinned at him foolishly as he stared at her in surprise.
"I'm tired, honey," she said, getting up from the table. "You won't mind if I go to bed early, will you?"
Dave grinned broadly. She was going to bed. That was a good omen. Patsy had never been one to openly come out and broadcast her desire for sex. She had always been coy and demure. Going to bed early was her signal to him that she was ready for love.
Dave grinned.
"Sure, honey. You go ahead. I'll be along shortly."
Patsy frowned and moved out of the kitchen.
Dave lit a cigarette and savored the wine slowly. Tonight he was going to make love to his wife and reawaken the fires of passion that had been dormant for too long. Tonight he would reclaim Patsy as a woman of fire and passion.
Hell, why hadn't he thought of the wine bit before now?
He poured himself another glass and lit another cigarette and forced himself to wait fifteen minutes. Patsy would be in bed now, waiting for him, naked and desirable and ready for love.
He laughed softly as he drained his glass and put out his cigarette. Then he weaved unsteadily to his feet. He began unbuttoning his shirt, as he staggered toward the doorway, the laughter bubbling softly out of his throat.
Hell, the wine really had a kick to it, he thought as he tore off his shirt and draped it on the floor in the dining room. His fingers moved to his belt buckle, and his pants dropped around his ankles.
His passion immediately flaunted its aroused state of readiness, and he laughed as he looked down at himself. Then he kicked out of his pants and shorts and padded barefooted into the dark bedroom.
Patsy lay in the middle of the bed, on her back. It was too dark to see whether or not she was naked, but Dave didn't care. He moved onto the bed and over her body, and his hands slid up bare thighs to her waist. His hands came into contact with the blue nightie and he cursed as he pushed it above her waist.
Patsy stirred and he thought he detected a moan of passion. He felt giddy as he spread her thighs and moved in between them, probing for her passion center. His fingers moved inside the moist wetness of her body and she moaned and shifted her buttocks. He felt elated, on top of the world, and he wanted to shout at the top of his lungs.
He rammed his body against her loins and felt her jar awake. She moaned as he penetrated the warm, musky flesh. His hands grasped and squeezed her mammoth breasts. Her head turned and his lips mashed down on hers, his tongue probing deep inside the cavern of her mouth.
Hands pushed against his chest, shoving hard, Dave reacted in hurt surprise and attempted to thrust his hips against his wife's uncooperative body, as she bodily lifted him into the air. He cried out in shrill anger, as he felt himself twisting and falling to the hard floor. His shoulders and hip struck hard wood, simultaneously, and the blow jarred him to full consciousness and cut through the hazy edge the wine had given him.
"What the hell!" he yelled in hurt agony.
"You leave me alone!" Patsy shouted in a shrill voice. "I told you before, I don't want sex right now. It's too soon after the baby!"
Dave climbed unsteadily to his feet. He stared angrily at Patsy, sitting up in bed now, breasts heaving in exertion.
"It's been six months!" he protested. "How long do I have to wait, for crying out loud?"
Patsy shrugged beefy shoulders.
"I don't know. When I feel like doing it again, I guess."
Dave's lips twisted into a sneer.
"And I'm just supposed to wait until you're ready? What the hell you think I'm made of?"
"Maybe you better go out and get it somewhere else before you flip your lid again," she said thoughtfully.
Dave stared at her, anger coursing through him like a festering sore. The nerve began beating like a tom-tom in his forehead again. He squeezed his eyes shut and clasped one hand to his head and tried to ward off the thundering pain.
"Maybe I will," he said, his voice grating.
"I guess you better, before you have to go back to the loony bin again."
Dave felt his nerves tauten. The pounding in his head thundered like a drop hammer. He squeezed his fists into tight balls and shook them furiously in anger as he stared at Patsy.
"Don't ever say that again!" he shouted, moving toward her, watching her back away in fright on the bed. "Don't ever remind me of that place."
Patsy hugged the sheet to her breasts and stared wild eyed at the sudden transformation in him.
"I'm sorry," she whined. "Honey, I'm sorry! I won't mention it again!"
Dave turned from her and slammed balled fists against the wall, trying to drown out the horrible banging sounds of the drop hammers pounding in his head. Again and again he slammed his fists against the lath and plaster wall, feeling the sting in his arms and shoulders, reveling in it, trying to drown out the pain in his head. Still, the pounding persisted. He moaned and crumpled to the floor and held his head tightly in his hands.
Bedsprings squeaked as Patsy got out of bed.
He heard her rummaging in the medicine chest in the bathroom and then came the sound of running water. He squeezed his eyes shut and ground his teeth together and fought to still the drop hammers in his head.
She leaned down before him, a glass of water in one hand and a little yellow pill in the other.
"Here," she said softly.
Dave took the pill and placed it far back on his tongue. Then he swallowed it with the water. He sat and stared at the glass and waited for the drop hammers to stop the horrible pounding in his head.
"Honey, I'm so sorry," Patsy said, hovering over him, squatting on her legs, her nightie indecently over her knees, exposing her most private parts to his vision. "I won't ever remind you of that awful place again."
He forced his gaze away from her and waited for the pounding to cease. Already the drop hammer blows were softening.
"Gimme a cigarette," he said in a weak voice.
Patsy lumbered to the bed stand and lit him a cigarette and brought it back to him.
He nodded his gratitude and dragged deeply on the filter tip and then let the smoke drift lazily out of twin nostrils. The drumming in his head seemed distant now.
"I'll be okay," he said, getting to his feet.
Patsy moved with him, her big body quivering.
"I'm so sorry," she said again, whimpering.
He reached out and touched a breast through the flimsy material of her gown, but her body was cold to his touch. He withdrew his hand and turned away from her. He didn't want her now. He needed a woman who was warm and alive and eager the way Shelly had been earlier that day.
"I think I'll go for a walk," he said, picking up his pants and stepping into them.
Patsy stood and watched him buckle his pants and then move to the closet to slip on a shirt and a pair of thongs.
"You can make love to me when you come back-if you still want to," Patsy said, her voice faltering.
He nodded, not looking at her, moving out of the bedroom and then out of the house.
The night air chilled him, but he felt good. The pounding in his head was almost gone, and he knew he would be all right. Half an hour out in the cool night air and he could go home and sleep and forget all about his illness.
He thought about the sudden attack as he walked down the dark, deserted residential street.
Suddenly he was back in Viet Nam, in the jungles, on patrol. The Cong hit them, attacking in full force from ambush as was their way. A bullet whistled by his ear as he dived for cover. Another bullet struck the side of his head, and he felt sharp pain and then a deep fog closed in over him and shut out the horror of the night.
When he awoke he was in an Army hospital in Saigon, where he learned he'd had a close call. The bullet had pierced his skull and dug a furrow through the top back part of his head, but there had not been any brain damage.
The medics had cleaned him up and placed a small protective metal plate in his head to cover the bullet-shattered area of his skull. Then they had sent him home to the states to recuperate.
And then the headaches had started, the pain like thundering horses' hoofs coming out of nowhere in loud, vibrating sound, shattering his eardrums, causing him to scream in pain. The medics had given him drugs that killed the pain and allowed him to sleep, and he had passed the next six months that way.
Gradually the pain diminished and went away, and he had been discharged from the Army. The doctors had told him to expect headaches and sharp pain from time to time, especially while under severe mental or physical or emotional stress.
The doctors had prescribed the little yellow pain-killing pills for him but had warned him not to take them except when absolutely necessary. And, since his discharge, he had been forced to resort to the pills only on rare occasions.
The last time had been three months ago when he and Patsy had had a big fight, and she'd packed to go home to her mother.
He had been unusually sexy that night, and she'd had her period and sex was impossible, but he'd stripped her anyway and forced her into bed and had taken her anally against her will.
She had finally shaken him off before he could complete the act, and he had fallen to the floor and hit his head sharply on the edge of a chair leg, and the pain had arisen sharp and thundering in his head. He had screamed shrilly and suddenly and had run against the wall, banging his head until he blacked out.
It had been the first time Patsy had been aware of his injury, and she'd been scared and shocked by his actions and had tried to leave him. He had talked her out of it and promised never to make love to her that way again.
Now the headaches and the pain were back. His driving need for sex had triggered the last attack. He had to have a woman. He couldn't do without sex. He had to rape a woman if that was the only way to get any physical satisfaction. He could not afford any more sudden attacks. There was no telling what he might do if he came under an attack at the moment he was raping a woman. He might even kill her!
Sweat bathed his body, and he shivered against the sudden clammy feeling gripping him.
There had been one time in the V.A. hospital when another inmate had angered him and he had jumped the man and put his hands about his neck and squeezed and squeezed until the man went limp in his arms and white faced. The other patients in the ward had finally separated them.
He had been restrained and put under drugs again to ease his pain.
The doctors had warned him on his release never to lose his temper because of the consequences. He was fully capable of killing another human being while under severe pain. He would have to be very careful the rest of his life. He would have to keep the pills with him so he could take one and kill the pain before it could get a grip on him and send him hurtling over the edge into temporary insanity.
Dave turned back toward home and walked quickly now, knowing Patsy was waiting for him, knowing she was going to let him have his release.
Passion jarred to life in his body as he neared his house. He broke into a trot, then a run.
He entered his darkened home and tore off his shirt and pants as he raced into the bedroom.
Patsy was asleep on her back and her legs were spread wide open. He moved onto the bed and placed his hands on her buttocks and held her up toward him as he jabbed into her body, piercing her flesh expertly.
Patsy stirred and awoke and for a wild second he thought she was going to fight him. Then she relaxed and let him have his way.
He rejoiced by slamming his hips against her huge body, taking her savagely and quickly, not caring how she reacted, knowing only that he had to have release.
And then came the sweet agony, the sudden eruption of passion, the drowning of his cursed need, the fulfillment of his pent-up desires. He sighed deeply and collapsed atop his wife's body and closed his eyes, suddenly very weary.
CHAPTER THREE
Dave made his rounds of the supermarkets the next day, methodically checking the shelves, rearranging displays, taking orders. He felt tired and lacking in pep and energy all morning, and he did not notice anyone unusual until after lunch. Then he began perking up, and his eye started roving again. All afternoon he watched the sway of hip and jiggle of breast and bareness of shapely leg as he worked.
Women were everywhere. Young women, old women, middle-aged women, all wearing the briefest of clothing. The day was hot and the weather humid, and women wore no more than absolutely necessary to cover their breasts and buttocks.
Dave whistled as he worked and observed the various women moving up and down the store aisles.
The day was almost over, and he had put in a good eight hours' work and secured several nice orders when the blonde came into the BMY Market in the southern part of his territory.
One look at the platinum blonde hair caressing lovely cream-colored shoulders, the switch of firm young hips in white shorts and the tanned legs pumping was enough to stop Dave's breathing. He caught sight of two perfectly rounded breasts jiggling within the tiny halter and wet his dry lips with the tip of his tongue. He stared after the blonde, eyes focused on her gently twitching buttocks. He caught his breath again and felt a wild surge of passion jolt through his body like a charge of electricity on a hot, rainy night, Dave licked his lips. The blonde was beautiful and really built. He wanted her. Hell, he had to have her! She was the most gorgeous, desirable woman he had ever laid eyes on. He had to have her!
He kept one eye on the blonde as he repacked his briefcase and shoved his order forms into it and snapped it shut. Then he quickly completed his display and moved toward the checkstands just as she moved into line with her cart.
He choked as he inventoried her assets again and almost swooned as she looked his way and flashed him a blue-eyed, red-lipped smile. He smiled back and hurried by her to the manager's office, where he obtained a quick signature on the order and then moved out to the parking lot to his car.
He lit a cigarette and felt the passion throbbing wildly in his body. He tried to ignore the demanding pulsating need in his loins but knew he was lost. He watched the blonde carry a large sack of groceries to her white convertible before driving slowly out of the lot.
Suddenly the overpowering urge to rape the blonde came over him. He swore softly and tossed his cigarette out the window and turned over the motor and eased the Alpha into gear and crept out of the parking lot into the street, keeping the white convertible in view. He drove slowly, following the convertible, keeping it in sight half a block ahead. Traffic crawled and he felt the blood rise to his head and pound at his temples.
He licked dry, salty lips, and his thoughts dwelled on the platinum blonde. He knew she would be wonderful to make love to. His hands perspired on the steering wheel, and his clothes stuck to his feverish body. Passion pounded in his loins, and he realized he could no longer control his emotions.
He trailed the blonde down a quiet, shady residential street and watched her drive into a driveway before a pink and white stucco house. He pulled up a few houses down the street and sat quietly, motor running, his eyes glued to the rear view mirror. He could see her tanned legs flashing as she opened the car door, scooped up her groceries and purse and then moved smartly, high heels clicking on cement, to disappear inside the front of the house.
Dave lit another cigarette and smoked slowly and gathered courage for what he was about to do. He smoked thoughtfully, his brain pounding with desire and anticipation. Then he flicked the cigarette out into the street and climbed out of his car and looked carefully up and down the street before moving toward the house the blonde had entered.
He moved onto the porch and poised his hand to knock on the front door but stopped in time. Knocking on the door would be useless. The blonde was not going to let him in. What for? To be raped? He chuckled softly and tried the door knob and eased the door open.
He sucked in his breath as he slipped quietly into the house. He closed the door carefully so as not to make any noise and leaned back against it to catch his breath. So far, so good.
He tiptoed across the deserted well-furnished living room and into the dining area and then the kitchen, but the blonde was nowhere in sight. The bag of groceries sat on the drainboard.
He moved back into the dining area and then into a hallway. Three doors opened off the hallway. Two were wide open. The third partially closed. He turned toward the third door, his heart beating loudly. He licked dry lips and moved to the door and pushed it open.
The blonde was in the bedroom, her back to him. She was clad only in panties and bra. The halter and shorts were clenched in one hand as though she had just removed them. She did not see him as he moved toward her. She did not hear him until a board squeaked under his foot and then she spun to face him, uttering a sharp gasp of surprise.
The gasp was the only sound she made. Dave pounced on her, one hand cutting off her outcry, the other hand clamping her behind the neck, holding her like a vise in his two hands. The blonde fought wildly, hitting at him with tiny fists, kicking at him with sharp-toed high-heeled boots. Dave cursed and slammed one balled fist against the side of her jaw. She went limp in his arms, sagging like a dead weight against him.
He pulled the bra off her body and sucked in his breath as creamy, full breasts, high-arched breasts sprang from their confinement, the nipples red and firm. He moved his free hand to caress a breast and found it firm and soft to his touch. A wave of passion coursed through his already enflamed body.
He pulled her panties off and ran his hands over the silky texture of her skin and then laid her down on her back on the king-size bed. He paused momentarily to admire the beauty of her form and figure. She moaned and he knew she would come to in a moment and most-likely scream her head off. He spun around, searching the bedroom quickly, spotting a half-open dresser drawer jammed with nylon stockings. He moved to the dresser, grabbing a handful of silk nylons. Then returning to the bed, he knotted one silk stocking about her mouth, gagging her effectively. He blindfolded her with a second nylon so she could not see him clearly. Then he tied a stocking to each wrist and ankle and secured the ends to the four bedposts.
She moaned and began to struggle, but she was tied securely and unable to move. He laughed as he tore out of his own clothes and then moved onto the bed in the nude. His hands caressed her legs and thighs and then he inserted a finger between her thighs and felt her body jerk and twist, as she tried to avoid his probing finger. He chuckled as her body began to warm with heat and desire and her' hips began to undulate. Then she began moaning deep in her throat, wanting him, needing him.
He moved his hands expertly over her body, caressing her everywhere, watching her writhe beneath him in ecstasy. Then his hands filled with her breasts and he stroked them lovingly before moving his lips to capture a nipple and raise it to erectness beneath a darting tongue. Then he gently bit down on each nipple until she was thrashing under his body in heat.
He untied her ankles and her legs parted and snaked about his waist and drew his nakedness down on top of her. She fought against her wrist bonds, but he did not release them. Instead, he moved his hands to her buttocks and spread her thighs and then rammed deep into the sizzling heat of her flesh and pistoned against her wildly undulating hips, matching her strokes with his own, then flooding her with a sudden bursting of ecstasy.
The blonde trembled as he rolled off her body and stood up, suddenly feeling sorry about the rape. He dressed quickly, his hands shaking, as he looked down at the nude body of the blonde on the bed.
He felt bad about it suddenly, now that it was over. Why had he done it? He shook his head. Patsy! The damn cold bitch! His own wife couldn't even warm up to his love-making and give him satisfaction! He had to go out and rape other women. Hell, he could go to jail for rape!
He finished dressing and lit a cigarette and stood staring down at the creamy body of the little blonde. Her breathing had slowed now and she lay still, still gagged and blindfolded with her wrists secured by nylon hose to the bedposts. She lay with thighs parted, waiting for whatever came next.
He felt sorry for her all of a sudden. He wanted to cut her loose but he was afraid to. She might call the police. He didn't want that.
"I'm sorry," he said, his voice croaking. "I saw you and I wanted you. I just had to have you."
She nodded her head slowly. Dave felt his heart skip a beat. He moved to her side and sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled the gag out of her mouth. Then he waited, ready to clamp down on her if she screamed.
"Please don't hate me," he said, feeling miserable suddenly, regretting his act of lust and violence. "I am sorry. I just couldn't help myself."
"It's all right," the woman stammered in a low voice.
"Will you forgive me?"
The blonde nodded her head slowly.
"Yes."
Dave got to his feet.
"I have to go now. I'm sorry I raped you. I'm awfully sorry."
"I'm not," the blonde said.
Dave reached over and loosened one of her wrists enough so she could free herself in a few minutes. Then he turned and moved quickly out of the house and down the street to his car. He climbed behind the wheel and turned over the motor and looked carefully up and down the street before driving off. He saw nobody. The street was deserted.
He shoved the Alpha into gear and zoomed out of the neighborhood. He breathed a sigh of relief as he reached the main boulevard and headed for home.
I'm a rapist, he thought. A miserable, stinking rapist!
It was bad enough taking a whore. He hadn't felt bad about that. But a young woman like the blonde represented rape! He had entered her home without permission and forced her to have sex with him. Hell, he had committed a felony!
He could go to prison for twenty years.
Sweat rolled off his body freely as he clamped the wheel with sweaty hands and forced his mind off the rape scene.
That's all I need, he thought. Prison! Boy, oh, boy! I'll have to hope for the best. Maybe she won't say anything. Maybe she won't report it!
Lord, what if she recognized him from being in the store? She could place him there and he would be caught! Then he would be in a jam!
He skidded to a halt in his driveway and sat, shaking like a leaf, in his car. Lord, he thought, I've gone and done it up good this time!
CHAPTER FOUR
Dave forced himself to remain calm that night and during work the following day. He prided himself in being able to concentrate on his job and forget women for one day. His loins swelled with desire, but he refused to look up at the women customers who moved up and down the aisles in shorts and halters, pushing carts before them. It took willpower to resist stealing a look at them, but somehow Dave managed it. The dark glasses he hid behind helped immeasurably.
It was five o'clock before he left his last stop and mailed in his orders for the day. He felt good. He'd stuck to his job all day long, put in eight hours, and accomplished a lot. At least he didn't have to worry about losing his job.
. He left the outside pay-phone booth and moved to his car, carrying his bulging briefcase and sample case kit. People scurried around him, but he did not pay them any attention. The trick of keeping his eyes off women was paying dividends. His body cried out for sex, but he would have to make Patsy give into his needs tonight. Maybe he could fake another head attack and get her sympathy and get her to let him have her. It had worked once. It ought to work again.
Somebody bumped into him, jarring him, knocking his briefcase out of his hand. He heard a feminine squeal and caught a scent of an intoxicating perfume, as he automatically reached down to pick up the briefcase.
"I'm sorry," the voice said apologetically.
Dave looked straight at trim ankles and allowed his gaze to flit along the lines of well-developed bare legs to brief shorts. He straightened up, smiling, glad he was wearing dark glasses. He caught sight of the tanned lushness of the woman's midriff and the bulging halter filled with arching breasts. Desire flooded into his body quickly. Passion burned in his loins. He cursed his need. He couldn't help himself. He had to have her.
"I said I'm sorry," the brunette repeated, her voice showing a trace of annoyance.
Dave smiled at her and shrugged his shoulders.
"Forget it. No damage done."
The girl flashed him a quick, red-lipped, white-toothed smile and then turned and moved across the asphalt parking lot, heels clicking, buttocks churning inside the too-tight shorts.
Dave watched her move away from him and felt an insane, overpowering urge coming over him. Suddenly he wanted her. Bad. Worse than he had ever wanted any woman. His body ached with desire to know her intimately, to hold her against his naked flesh, to caress her breasts and buttocks, to bring her to fruition in his arms.
Dave cursed his helplessness and moved quickly to his own car and tossed his briefcase and sample cases onto the back seat. He turned in time to watch the girl in shorts climbing into a big Buick, thirty feet away from him. He turned and moved swiftly toward her car, feeling his loins throbbing hungrily, knowing he was going to ravish this girl.
She turned to look at him as he opened the passenger door and slid onto the seat beside her. She gripped the wheel with both hands and just stared at him.
He reached for her and took her clumsily into his arms and found her lips with his own. Instantly the girl stiffened in his arms and her lips were cold as ice. Dave ground his lips against hers and forced his tongue into her mouth, but she was hitting his back with balled fists, trying to break his hold on her.
"Let me go!" she hissed angrily.
Dave swore and let go of her. His glance darted about the parking lot, but there were cars parked on all sides of them and nobody in any of them. That was good. He turned back to the girl and dragged her back toward him, just as she opened the door on her side. She opened her mouth to scream, but he slammed his fist against her jaw and she went limp in his arms.
He closed the car door and then picked up the girl in his arms and moved her onto the back seat. He followed her quickly, checking to make sure nobody had seen them. Then he pushed the locks down on both doors and turned his attention to her body.
She was lovely. Her breasts surged with her breathing and his hands trembled, as he unhooked the halter and pulled it free of her body. Her breasts bobbled in the fading light of day, shimmering with loveliness, full bodied and spreading on her chest like two giant grapefruits. The nipples were soft and pink, and Dave shuddered as a jolt of desire shot through his body.
He stripped off her shorts quickly and ran his hands over the soft, sweet-smelling skin and then spread her legs and cupped one hand over the downy-covered passion center of her body. He felt her stir and moan softly. He moved his hand like a suction cup against her loins and then fumbled his zipper open and took out his manhood and held it in his free hand, as he caressed her body. His finger slipped into the heart of her passion center, and her hips began to undulate slowly as he increased the speed of his motion. Then he moved over her, spreading her thighs, inserting his manhood into her body with a deep thrust that penetrated her to the center of her being. Her groaning increased, but her hips continued jerking spasmodically as he covered her body with his and glued their lips together. He pumped his hips at her body, until he felt the sudden agonizing release of passion like a damn breaking. He collapsed atop her supine form, breathing hard.
The girl was still unconscious as he zipped up his slacks. He checked her pulse to find her breathing normally. He looked out the windows quickly, but nobody was in the immediate area. Two of the cars near them had moved, but apparently the drivers had noticed nothing or they had put it down to a love tryst that was none of their business. Dave breathed a sigh of relief and rolled the girl to the floor of the car where she lay on one side, long dark hair spilling over one shoulder.
He moved quickly back to the front seat and sat there for a minute, then slid over and opened the car door and got out and moved nonchalantly to his own car.
He slid onto the seat of the Alpha, turned over the motor and backed out into a lane and zoomed out of the parking lot. He was conscious of a lot of cars in the lot, but nobody seemed to take a second look at him.
He began to breathe easier as he hit the street and headed for home. Maybe he would get away with the rape. He had heard nothing about the first rape, and apparently the woman had not reported him. Maybe this one would not, either. She would wake up naked in the back seat of her car, find her clothes and dress. Maybe she would be angry and mad enough to report him. Dave shivered. He didn't like the odds. The girl bumped into him, knocking his briefcase to the ground.
She'd had a good look at him and could describe him to the police. He could be spotted as a salesman calling on supermarkets. He could be picked up and jailed for rape. Then where would he be?
And where would Patsy and the baby be? He had to think of them.
I better go see the doctor, Dave thought, as he turned into his driveway. And take Patsy with me. Maybe the doctor can give her something to make her more passionate, so I won't have to get sex elsewhere. Maybe.
CHAPTER FIVE
Dave took Patsy and the baby to the doctor the next morning after another night of rejection in bed. Patsy stormed and raved all morning, but in the end she cleaned up and dressed herself and the baby and went with him.
Dr. Patterson was an older man, graying at the temples, with a smile on his wrinkled face. He ushered them into his private paneled office and asked them their problem. Patsy glowered at Dave and held the cooing baby against her shoulder. Dave winced and looked down at his hands and then back up at the doctor, his face screwed up with indecision.
"Patsy's changed, Doc," he began hesitatingly, searching for the right words. "She used to love sex as much as I did. Now she never wants to do it any more."
"That's quite normal after the birth of a child, Dave," Dr. Patterson said calmly.
"See!" Patsy interjected with malicious delight. "I told you I didn't feel like it."
"Of course, your baby is six months old," the doctor went on gravely. "It is time you began an active sex life again, my dear."
Dave turned to stare at his wife. Patsy's face fell apart, and she stared at the doctor out of glassy eyes, her cheeks sunken in, her mouth pouting. Dave grinned at her and then turned back to the doctor.
"Is there anything you can give my wife that'll make her want to have sex again? I mean-something that will reawaken her desire?"
Dr. Patterson drummed a pencil on his desk top and frowned.
"It's better for the husband and wife to stimulate and arouse one another's passions. I suggest you both try and be very nice to one another and respect each other's wishes and only attempt to make love when both of you are in a good mood and ready for love. Many young couples with new babies will attempt to speed up things and then trouble can start, and the couple can get off on the wrong foot and be farther apart than ever before. So take it easy and be as much at ease under the circumstances as possible, and then the time will come when you and Patsy will once again be lovers. All you can do is wait and give Patsy time, my boy. Some women just take longer than others to get back into the normal routine of life. Some women fear pregnancy and have a harder time than others. The act of sex leads to pregnancy, so the more women dislike pregnancy, the longer it will take them to revert to their former selves in so far as their sex lives are concerned."
The doctor rose and reached out a firm hand. Dave shook his hand and then turned toward the door, Patsy following with the baby gurgling in her arms. They moved out of the office and building and to the Alpha, quietly. Then Patsy let him have it.
"Fine husband you are," she scolded, anger riling her voice. "Making the doctor think there's something wrong with me, when there isn't!"
"Oh, shut up!" Dave snapped, slamming the car into gear and inching it forward into motion.
"Just wait until you want some more loving! You won't get it from me!"
Dave cursed angrily and clamped his hands tightly on the steering wheel and drove home as fast as possible. He did not look at his fat wife nor speak to her. He tried to close his ears to her wild ramblings, but some of her irritating messages sank home.
"Maybe I should've told the doctor about your problem! That plate you got in your head and the way you flipped your lid in an Army hospital and.. . "
"Shut up!" Dave screamed at her. "Dammit! Shut up!"
Patsy quieted and said nothing the rest of the way. Dave felt a pulse beating a warning in his forehead. He tried to quiet it, but it would not go away. It beat steadily, like a tom-tom in the jungle, the message clear. He knew the drop hammers would start soon, and then he would be banging his head against the dashboard.
"You better take a pill," Patsy said, her voice softening.
Dave slammed into the house and entered the bathroom, opened the medicine chest, fumbled a pill out of the bottle, and gulped it down with a glass of water. Then he stood, hands clenching the basin, head lowered, teeth grinding together, until the pounding in his head slowly subsided. Sweat rolled off his body in rivers. He pulled off his shirt and grabbed a towel and wiped his body dry. Then he moved into the bedroom and put on another shirt and moved toward the front door.
Patsy was in the living room with the baby. She looked up from changing a diaper, as he opened the front door.
"Where you going?"
"Out!" he snapped, slamming the door behind him.
He drove to a neighborhood bar and parked the Alpha and moved into the comforting semi-darkness and sat on a stool at the end of the curved bar. He ordered a Scotch and water and sat there and stared into the amber liquid. The bartender moved down to the other end of the bar where a couple sat together, talking and occasionally laughing. Dave paid them no attention.
He thought back to his Army hospital days. The months he had spent lying on his back and the nurses that had hovered over him and around him. The cute little nurses who wanted him for sex, because they'd heard from other nurses that he knew how to use what he had and could guarantee them satisfaction.
A stir of desire warmed his loins. He shifted on the stool uncomfortably, as a hot flash of desire slowly crept into his loins, enflaming his entire body. He felt his passion grow to life size and bulge indecently in his pants. He cursed and crossed his legs and tried to ignore the wanting beat of lust pulsating throughout his body.
The nurses, he thought, remembering them fondly in detail. Those hot-blooded little wenches at the hospital. How they loved it! Man, how they loved it!
The nurses had aroused him in those days by letting him cop a feel of thigh or breast now and then and then laughing and teasing him with their eyes. And finally the night came when he caught the cute little redhead by one arm and pulled her onto the bed with him and refused to let her go until she satisfied him.
She was small and busty and scared. She told him she couldn't make love that night, but still he refused to let her go. He had an arm lock on her, and he threatened to break her arm unless she had relations with him. He'd kicked off the blanket and exposed his hard, throbbing instrument of desire to her. She had wet her red lips with the tip of her pink tongue and then ducked her head and surrounded his passion with her lips and seared him with the touch of her darting tongue. And then she had taken all of him into her mouth, and he had closed his eyes and held onto her arm, until a racking climax shattered his body.
There were other nurses after that, nurses who had heard about the huge size of the little man with the steel plate in his head. They had come into his room in the dead of night to mount him and have sex with him quietly and furtively. He recalled them one by one. Six in all. Six lovely, desirable, nymphomaniacal nurses. And many a night he'd taken all of them on, one by one.
After one nurse would raise her uniform dress and mount him in bed for a quick joy ride, she would clean him with a scalding hot washcloth and by so doing, prepare him instantly for the next object of his passion. Then, one by one, the nurses would mount him and take him, then clean him up and make him ready for the next one. And by the time the sixth nurse took him, he was pooped and sure he would never be ready again the next night.
He was always ready, of course. Sleep and good hot food always made him ready for sex. The headaches were beginning to decrease and his libido powers increased in proportion. By the time he was up and around and humping the nurses in his bed and on the floor and out on the hospital grounds, he was ready to return to civilian life. The nurses he knew would be sorry to see him go.
There had been one nurse, a beautiful little brunette, who had not indulged in the fun and sex games with him. A busty, sweet little thing that appealed to him. He had asked about her and been told by the other girls that she was out of bounds and didn't indulge in sex. They all thought she was a virgin. Dave knew he had to have her. He couldn't leave the hospital without boffing her at least once. He had to do that much for her.
One night he caught her in a supply closet and closed the door behind them, before she knew he was there. She turned to face him, her mouth wide open to scream, a stack of clean towels in her arms. He only grinned at her and pulled open the cord of his robe and exposed his nude, flaunting body to her. He was fully aroused, and she took one look at him in the harsh light of the naked bulb overhead and promptly swooned and fainted. He caught her in his arms before she hit the floor and quickly stripped her uniform, bra and panties from her body and then laid her on the cold floor. He shrugged out of his robe and mounted her and forced an entrance into her tight, unyielding body. She came to just as he forged deeply within her, and the sharp, tearing pain caused her to black out again. And when she came to again he was reaching a climax in her. Again she passed out. Dave put on his robe and went back to his room to sleep.
Two hours later he was in the guard house and charges were being levied against him. One of the M.P.'s struck him across the head with the blunt end of his night stick, the hard wood ringing against the metal plate. Excruciating pain caused him to flip his lid and run, screaming, down the corridors, naked as a jaybird. The M.P.'s chased him. Doctors and nurses came out in time to see him darting down the corridors, screaming at the top of his lungs, seeming as wild and crazy as a rabid animal.
The screaming saved him from the guard house, and he was returned to his room at the hospital. The next morning the pains in his head were so severe the doctors had to drug him heavily. M.P. guards hovered outside his room day and night. Still the nurses managed to enter his room and make love to him. Most of the time he was out of his head with pain and doped up to the point where he could only hazily recall what was happening to him.
One night he remembered three nurses all naked at once in bed with him. One was riding him like a jockey, while another one mounted him and pushed her warm downiness close against his face. He remembered trying to turn his head, but the nurse urged her body closer to him and held his head cradled in her hands, as she moved her sweet-scented flesh against his lips. He tried to throw her off, but the third nurse had strapped his arms and legs to the bed and he could not move. Then he felt a sweet headiness filling him, and he gagged and the nurse laughed softly and rolled off him.
Suddenly his loins were triggering their desire into the girl riding him, and the third naked nurse was spreading out across his still jerking, spasmodic body, as the second nurse moved off of him. This time he felt the downy softness of her body graze his lips, and her lips surrounded his manhood and took him into the moist cavern of her mouth. And within minutes another flood of sweet agony flowed into him and out of him at the exact, crazy, mixed-up second.
Then the lights came on and he blinked suddenly. The startled nurse rolled off him, uttering a cry of alarm. Dave blinked and spotted the doctor and two startled M.P.'s and the little nurse he had raped that night. They were all gaping in shock at him and at the three naked nurses in the room. Then the pain in his head mercifully blacked him out, and he remembered no more.
It was touch and go for several weeks. Test after test was made on him. Finally the Army termed him a psychotic, after weeks of grueling examinations and psychiatric tests. The Army processed him out of the service on a section-three discharge and sent him home.
The blinding headaches had haunted him for a while, but the little yellow pills brought relief and, as time went on, the pain lessened and the attacks grew farther and farther apart. Emotional tension and strain brought them on, and he had learned to control his emotions. Then he had met and married Patsy and gradually told her all about his past life.
And now he was drinking in a sleazy bar and trying to forget the stinking fat, sloppy bitch of a wife he had at home who wouldn't give him any loving. He scowled and finished his drink and got up and walked outside to his car.
He bought a newspaper and scanned the headlines for any word of the parking-lot rape, but there was no mention of it. Dave breathed a deep sigh of relief. He had to be careful from now on. He didn't want to be picked up on a rape charge. This time the authorities would really throw the book at him. Then it would be prison for a long time, with no sex at all.
CHAPTER SIX
Dave drove home, his loins on fire. All the way to his house he cursed Patsy. Damn the bitch, he thought. Tonight she's gonna put out! Tonight I'm gonna strip her and take her. Tonight we make love all night long.
He stormed into the house. The baby was asleep, and Patsy was watching television. She was clad in an old dress with her hair tied back in a bun behind her neck. He looked at her, but she ignored him, concentrating on the melodrama on the tube.
The hell with her, he thought, as he ripped off his shirt and dropped it on the floor. Then his hands dipped to his belt buckle, and he dropped his pants and shorts with a clatter of sound and felt his passion rise to full erection.
Patsy turned around in her chair, startled by the noise. She saw him and blinked. Her eyes filled with revulsion. Dave laughed softly and kicked out of his clothes and moved, naked, toward her.
"Take your clothes off," he ordered in a harsh voice, as he stood, legs spread, hands on his hips, taunting her with his aroused state of desire.
Patsy stared at his manhood, licking her lips with the tip of her tongue. Fear shone briefly in the corners of her small eyes. Then she slowly shook her head.
"No," she said, her voice trembling. "I ain't gonna do it."
Dave took a step toward her, his fists doubling. "Yes, you are," he said defiantly. "If I have to rape you!"
Patsy gasped, and he grinned as a thrill coursed through his body. Rape, he thought. The magic word. Why hadn't he thought of raping his own wife before? Other women came alive for him when he raped them. Maybe Patsy would too.
"You heard me," he said, snarling, shaking one fist in her face. "Either get naked by yourself or be raped! I don't give a damn which!"
Patsy nodded her head and got slowly to her feet. She backed away from him as he advanced on her. She pulled her dress high over her head and tossed it to the floor. Then she reached one hand behind her and unsnapped her bra and let it slide to the floor. Her thumbs hooked in the webbing of her panties, and she pulled them down.
Dave's eyes riveted on her gently swaying breasts. Huge, trembling, fleshy breasts. Big, unshapely breasts covered with stretch marks. Breasts milky white and so big both his hands could not completely surround one of them. Breasts like no other woman ever had.
He reached for her, one hand closing around the underside of one breast, pulling her toward him. Patsy shivered and took a step closer to him.
Her body was cold. Icy to his touch. He cursed and moved both hands to her fleshy buttocks and pulled her against his enflamed body.
"I don't feel like doing it," she said, her voice trembling.
"The hell with you," he snarled, pulling her hard against him, letting her feel the swelling throbbing between his legs. "I want you, and I'm gonna have you whether you like it or not!"
"You can have me," she said, her voice flat without emotion. "You won't like me this way, but you can have me."
Dave pushed her back on the couch, and she lay down and spread her thighs. Dave fell atop her and thrust deeply into her cold body and began pistoning his hips against her un-moving loins. His hands moved to cup her buttocks, his fingers probing deeply into the skin. She lay there, unmoving, not helping him at all, watching him out of slit eyes.
"Damn you!" Dave cursed her, as he labored. "Can't you warm up a little?"
Patsy did not answer him. She lay still and let him reach a climax and spend his sperm in her body. He fell across her breasts, breathing heavily, feeling strangely cheated and totally unsatisfied.
"I told you it wouldn't be any good," she said, her voice mocking him.
He snarled at her and balled up one fist and feinted with it and watched her eyes widen with horror and heard her gasp. Then he laughed harshly and got off her and trotted into the bathroom where he ran a cold shower. The sting of the icy spray relieved him somewhat and he went to bed to sleep.
Sunday turned out to be a miserable day. He tried to arouse Patsy first thing in the morning without accomplishing it and again that night. Passion reared up in his loins, keeping him on edge all day long.
He deliberately moved naked through the house, letting her see his throbbing passion as a reminder of how much he needed her. She didn't pay any attention to him. He cursed her and told her she was a cold bitch of a wife, and that she'd better start giving him what he needed before it was too late. That puzzled her and he shut up, realizing he had almost admitted that he had to have other women, even if he had to resort to rape.
He tossed and turned that night in the throes of physical agony. His loins burst with want and need, and it was all he could do to stop from forcing himself on his wife. The night before came back into his mind with cold clarity, and he knew that taking her by force was not good. She would only lie there and be unmoving, and that was worse than no sex at all.
Tom-toms began beating in the back of his head again, and he got up and took a pill to quiet his nerves. Sweat rolled off his body in rivers, as he clung to the wash basin and squeezed his eyes shut and fought off the attack. Hell, he knew there had to be a connection between the return of the headaches and his crying need for sex. The Army doctors had told him not to let anything disturb him emotionally. Well, Patsy was disturbing him plenty! He had to have sex. He had to find another woman who would relieve his sex urges. Only sex on a steady diet could stop the headaches from reoccurring and let him retain his sanity.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Dave awoke in a cold sweat. Passion jarred to life in his loins, and he cursed his need as he stepped under an icy-cold shower. There had to be a way to reach Patsy, he thought. There had to be a method that would make her want sex with him again. How could he reach her?
He thought about it all through his morning calls, and, just before the noon hour, he felt he had the answer. Hell, in the early days of marriage he had always brought small gifts home to her. Nothing elaborate or expensive, just tiny little tokens of appreciation. And Patsy had always been overcome with joy and happiness, and she had immediately gratified him sexually. Those had been the days when she had liked sex as much as he had. So maybe a gift would have the same effect on her now? Maybe. It was worth a try.
He drove to a nearby department store and rode an elevator to the fifth floor. He was the only passenger in the cab, and the hippy, busty girl operator turned and smiled at him. Dave stared at her breasts and felt a shock wave course through his body. Suddenly his passion flaunted itself and fierce desire burned inside him.
He saw the flash of fear in the blonde's eyes, as he stepped toward her and put his hands on her magnificent breasts and felt the heat of her body through the thin cotton blouse. The girl opened her red-lipped mouth. Dave pushed her against the side of the cab and quickly covered her lips with his own and stabbed her deep in her moist mouth with his tongue. The girl shuddered as he drove his body hard against hers, pinning her against the side of the cab.
The cab stopped, but the doors did not open. Dave grunted and moved his hands down over her hips and legs and then under the hem of her dress. The girl shivered in his arms and the heat of her enflamed body scorched him. His hands moved inside her dress and up bare thighs to her panties. He ripped them off her body and then opened the fly of his trousers and pulled his huge throbbing phallus out for her to see. Her eyes grew big and round, and she shuddered. Then she spread her legs apart and he cupped hot buttocks in his hands and held her against the wall of the cab, as he surged deeply inside her burning body. Her legs clamped around his waist and locked behind him. Broad hips began to undulate against his body. Muscles tightened against his surging passion, then relaxed only to tighten once again.
His hands moved to her blouse and he unbuttoned it clumsily and pulled it down over her arms. He unhooked her bra and pulled it free of her body. He could not touch or kiss her breasts, but he could watch them jiggling enticingly against his chest as her hips rose and sank down on him, muscles clenching and releasing, pulling away for another assault on his manhood. The hard nipples dug into his chest, and he felt the heat of her body through his shirt.
"Now!" the girl cried out. "Take me now!"
He felt her muscles spasming against him as he plunged deep into her body. Then the heat of her passion center fired his passion, and he felt an explosion rip through his loins. The girl sighed deeply and sank against him, her body trembling. Dave waited until the moment was over, then gently released her.
"I'm sorry," he said, meaning it, as he watched her dress. "Something came over me, and I just couldn't control myself."
The girl flashed him a bright smile.
"Me too," she said. "I see a guy I want, and I guess I let him read my mind. I can't help it, either."
Dave smiled and lit a cigarette and gave the girl a puff, as she moved the elevator back down to the fifth floor, where Dave got off. A crowd of waiting people, looking slightly annoyed, moved into the cab. Dave chuckled softly and made his way into the gift department.
He looked at a lot of things but finally decided on a box of chocolates for two dollars. He had it gift wrapped and then waited for the elevator with the sexy blonde to take him back down to the main floor.
He had a fifteen-minute wait before her cab opened and he got in. This time there were two other people aboard, and he stood in the corner and rode up and down twice before he was alone with the girl again. This time she stopped the cab on the top floor and told him she was breaking for lunch.
"I know a real good place," she said, leading him into the stockroom filled with high shelves and narrow aisles as far as he could see. "Way back here in rugs and carpets. Come on."
He followed her saucy buttocks all the way back to the dark, narrow little section where rolled carpets and rugs were shelved and leaning against the cold stone wall of the building. There were no lights here and it was dark. Dave looked around him, then heard a rustle of clothing. He spun back to find the blonde discarding blouse, bra, skirt and panties. She kicked free of her sandals and faced him in the nude.
"I want to do it right this time," she said. "Get naked, honey."
Dave gulped. Undressing in a stockroom of a downtown department store was crazy. What if they were caught?
Still his fingers moved to unbutton his shirt, and he slipped off his suit coat and shirt and dropped his pants and shorts and kicked out of them. The girl sighed as her hand moved to stroke his passion to life. Just the touch of her hand on his most private parts aroused him to fever pitch.
"You're so huge," she said, her voice trembling. "I knew in the cab that you were bigger than any man I ever had. That's why I kept hoping you'd get back in my cab so we could get together and really make love like this!"
Dave pulled her into his arms and felt the heat of her body sear his flesh. His hands roamed over her back and down across velvety buttocks and satiny hips.
"Isn't this a bit dangerous?"
She shook her head.
"Nobody ever comes back here. I know. I come here every day with somebody. By now I'd have an audience if anybody knew about me and my love trysts."
Dave lowered her to the rug on the floor beneath them. The blonde sank into the thick texture of the carpeting on her back, spreading her thighs wide open for him. Dave moved between her thighs, and his lips kissed a trail of fire across her mammoth breasts, his tongue arousing her nipples, his teeth gently nipping at them. The girl writhed on the rug beneath him, her body afire with passion.
"Kiss me all over!" she hissed, arms urging him lower.
He moved his lips and tongue across her stomach, stopping to circle her navel, then dipping to her lower stomach and finally to her inner thighs. Her hands moved into his hair, urging him toward the center of her passion.
"Kiss me there!" she hissed.
He resisted her movements and shook his head.
"No," he said, moving over her again. "I don't care for that."
"I do," the girl said, her voice whining. "I want you to."
"No," he said, his fingers finding her lips, inserting deeply within the confines of her passion oven.
She moved beneath his caresses. He loomed over her, inserting his manhood into her waiting body, feeling her receive him easily. Then her legs were closing about his back and her arms were clinging to his shoulders, and her lips and tongue were wild on his mouth.
He slammed his loins against her arching, pistoning body, driving her down deep into the texture of the rug. She lifted him high again only to be slammed viciously to the rug beneath them. Their tempo increased and their breathing grew harsh and ragged as they labored together. Then he felt powerful muscles clenching him, forcing him to explode, draining him of all desire and passion in a shattering climax.
He rode it out, glorying in the lust they shared, knowing at long last he had found a woman who dug sex the way he did. Insatiable. Needing sex constantly. He knew he would have to see a lot of this girl in the future.
He sat up and leaned back against a standing rolled carpet. He fished in his clothing for cigarettes and matches and put one in his mouth and lit it. He dragged the smoke deeply into his lungs as the girl watched him.
"You're great," he admitted, flashing her a smile. "I'm gonna need you often."
She smiled, her eyes bright.
"So are you. A real stud!"
Her eyes flickered over his nakedness.
"My name's Vera."
"Jack," he said, taking a deep drag. "Jack the ripper."
She laughed softly, a tinkling, musical kind of laugh. "You're funny," she said. "I like you."
He smoked thoughtfully and watched the girl get on her knees. She crawled toward him on all fours, breasts jiggling like overripe fruit dangling from the vine. Her eyes filled with lust and greed, as she inventoried his naked form.
"I want you," she said, her voice trembling. "Can you do it again?"
He looked down at his limp form and slowly shook his head.
"Not now. Maybe in an hour or so."
Her hands reached for him and found him.
"I'll get you ready," she said. "Just lie still and smoke."
He relaxed and dragged slowly on the cigarette. She bent over him, blonde hair trailing across his stomach, tickling him. She worked with her hands and then with her lips and tongue. Her touch thrilled him, and the sweet sensation of hot lips surrounding his flesh and the darting stab of her tongue on his flesh aroused him quickly. She continued with tongue and lips, until he was fully aroused and ready for love.
"Now we'll make love my way," she said, her eyes bright with lust as she met his gaze. "Okay?"
He shrugged and smashed out his cigarette.
"Okay," he said, not really caring what position she wanted to use, so long as he got his satisfaction. That was all that counted.
She moved around and quickly covered him with her thighs. Soft downiness covered his face, and he blinked and moved his hands to her hips to roll her off, but she was strong and determined and her thighs closed about his head, temporarily imprisoning him. Her hips bucked down at him, and the musky odor of her body filled his nostrils. Her lips and tongue hungrily surrounded and thrilled him. He bucked wildly beneath her. Still he fought to free himself from her thighs, without success. The girl was strong, and she had surprised him with a quick, deft move that held him prisoner.
And then, quickly, suddenly, suffocatingly, he felt the sudden meeting and explosion of their twin lusts, and he gagged and fought for breath as the sweet nectar of her body overpowered him and forced his surrender.
Tom-toms beat in his head. Loud, angry tom-toms. Jungle sounds came alive in his brain. He shoved against her with tremendous force, pushing her to one side. Suddenly his brain was on fire and the drop hammers clanged in his head. He put his hands to his ears and squeezed his eyes shut and ground his teeth together and tried to close out the horrible pounding sound in his head. The beat of the drop hammers echoed up and down the corridors of his brain.
"What's the matter, honey?"
The touch of her hand on his shoulder heightened the intensity of the sound. He snarled and struck at her with one closed fist, catching her on the side of her head, knocking her backwards. She cried out in pain. He opened his eyes and snarled angrily.
"What's wrong with you?" she stammered, her voice trembling.
He rocked to his feet, the drop hammers banging loudly in his skull, his face screwed up in pain. He moved toward her, suddenly wanting to smash her, to beat her with fists and feet, to render her unconscious. The physical exertion would help quiet his ringing head.
"Get up!" he ordered through clenched teeth, fists doubled.
Vera trembled as she rose to her feet, holding her arms over her breasts. Her eyes were big and round and filled with fright.
"I'm sorry I made you do it," she said. "I won't make you love me that way again."
He cursed her suddenly, slamming a right fist against her jaw. The girl cried out sharply as her knees buckled. Then Dave was on top of her, fists digging into her breasts and stomach, slashing blows cutting her face and mouth to ribbons. His weight held her against the rolled carpeting and his fists beat her into helpless submission. Cuts opened on her cheeks, under and over her eyes. Her nose broke with one punishing fist and blood spurted out all over his chest. Her lips turned to raw hamburger and two teeth fell to the rug at their feet. The drumming in his head slowed down as excitement and fever gripped him. He stopped hitting the girl, staring down at her, as his eyes focused again on her body.
She lay crumpled on the carpeting at his feet. He stared down at her, the red haze of anger lifting like a dark cloud, allowing him to reason once again. The pounding in his head slowly diminished.
He spun around, searching the darkness surrounding them, listening to his heart beat loud in his ears. Suddenly he knew he had to get out of there.
He reached down and picked up his shirt and pants and put them on quickly, ignoring the blood-her blood-covering his body. He dressed quickly, slipping into his suit coat, snapping his tie shut, putting on his shoes. Then he side stepped around the unconscious girl, moving quietly down the corridors of rugs and carpets, until he reached a main aisle. He made sure the stockroom was deserted before dashing toward the elevator. He spotted a door beyond the elevator and ducked through it quickly and pounded down the stairwell.
He ran down the nine flights to the street level and then slipped back into the humming throng of customers on the main floor and out to the parking lot to his car. He suddenly remembered the box of candy, as he started the Alpha. He had left it upstairs with the girl. He swore softly and momentarily panicked. Then he remembered he had paid cash for it. Nobody could tie him to that telltale bit of evidence-or with the girl.
He drove home quickly and tiptoed quietly into the house. The house was unusually quiet. He peered into the bedroom. Patsy was sound asleep in bed. The baby lay in her crib nearby, also asleep. He took off his clothes and spotted the smear of blood on his white shirt. He inspected his suit pants and coat closely but found no spots of blood there.
His tee shirt and white shorts were a mess. Blood all over them. He swore softly and knew he could never explain the blood to Patsy. He would just have to get rid of them.
He doubled up his shorts, tee shirt and white dress shirt, shoved them into an empty grocery sack, then entered the bathroom off the den. Quietly he turned on the shower taps and got into the stall and rinsed the blood down the drain. Then he lathered with soap and scrubbed his body thoroughly and rinsed himself off before stepping out and toweling himself dry.
He tiptoed into his bedroom and quietly removed a fresh tee shirt, shorts and white shirt and then moved back to the living room where he dressed. He inspected his appearance in front of the full-length mirror in the hall closet and knew he could pass anybody without showing any signs of the beating and rape.
He left the house and climbed back inside the Alpha and drove back to his territory and began methodically checking shelves, stocking them, fixing and arranging displays and taking grocery ordors from harried managers. At five o'clock he drove toward home.
The radio announcer flashed word of the nude, blood-splattered, horribly beaten young elevator operator found unconscious on the floor of the stockroom, the victim of a modern-day Jack the ripper.
Dave listened to the details and shuddered. I must have flipped my wig, he thought. Gone crazy with pain or something. He shook his head slowly, trying to recall what had set him off, failing to learn what had made him do it. He could recall how it had happened. One minute he and the girl had been reveling in lust and making it big together, and the next minute he had been beating her brutally like a savage.
I'll have to be more careful, he thought to himself, as he parked the Alpha in his driveway and entered the house. I'll have to watch my step.
Losing my head over a dame and half killing her is not the way to stay out of jail.
He felt a sadness course through him as he dwelled on Vera. She had been insatiable, just like he was. They could have had a fine sex relationship together, if only something hadn't set him off and made him beat her into a bloody pulp.
He shook his head, still not sure why he had mutilated the girl with his punishing fists.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Dave followed the news reports of the raped girl avidly during the next few days. The thought of being caught and jailed by the police sobered him and kept his mind off sex and women, while he dwelled on it. Then the news pieces trailed off as the police had no new leads nor clues. The box of candy apparently had been the lure used to get the girl back into the dark stockroom area. The police were still checking out store employees who might have had a desire for the blonde.
Vera was recuperating nicely in the hospital. She had engaged an attorney, and there was talk about suing the department store for a hundred grand. It began to look like an open and shut case of assault by an unknown assailant and a big-dollar civil suit by the girl against her employers.
Dave breathed easily and forgot the matter. The girl was okay, he was not identified, and he could go on his way without worry. Still, that store was not one he intended to revisit at any time in the near future.
Two days and nights without sex were more than he could stand. He couldn't keep his hands off Patsy. Passion choked his loins. He had to have release. He could not wait another day.
Patsy fought him silently that night with tooth and nail, but he slugged her into submission with hard punishing blows to the kidneys and ribs that took all the fight out of her. She stopped struggling and allowed him to strip her naked. Then she lay down on her back on the bed and spread her thighs and watched him mount her, out of slit eyes.
"I hate you," she said in a voice devoid of emotion.
"Shut up!" he snapped, as he rammed his throbbing manhood into the soft flesh of her body. Then he was plunging him in her with powerful strokes, feeling the warmth of her flesh enveloping him.
"Hurry up and get done," she said.
Anger consumed him. He wanted to belt her, but he thought better of it and concentrated on reaching a climax. He closed his eyes and thought of the fair skin of the women he had ravished. Hot desire coursed through him and then the flood gates opened, and he raced down the swiftly flowing stream to find peace and contentment at last.
It was early the next morning, when he spotted the long-limbed, breast-swaying woman in the market he was in. She wore tight hip huggers that fit her snugly and a short blouse that ended just below the line of superb, high-arching breasts. She moved tantalizingly down the aisle in a hip-swaying walk that brought the lust rising in Dave's loins. He looked at her and felt his body en-flame with desire and knew he was going to have her.
He waited until she left the store and then he ducked out, informing the assistant manager he would return later for the signed order. He climbed into his Alpha and drove slowly after the woman in the Grand Prix and followed her to her home. He parked across the street and gave her five minutes time to get into her house and put her groceries away. Then he moved quickly out of his car and across the street and down the tree-shaded driveway to the rear of the house.
He could hear movement in the kitchen, as he entered the unlocked screen door, and then he saw her bending over in front of the combination refrigerator-freezer. She had wide, pronounced hips and a shapely bottom. Desire pulsated in his loins, as he moved toward her.
She raised up and turned, startled, to face him just as he made a move to sweep her into his arms. Her hazel eyes grew big, and she sucked in a lungful of breath but made no sound. He met her gaze and smiled and put his hands on twin surging breasts and squeezed them through her blouse.
"I want you," he said, his voice quivering, his eyes locked with hers. "Naked in bed. Now!"
She shuddered but did not move, as his hands forced the blouse up over her breasts. Then he moved his hands behind her back and unhooked her bra. The lace bra came away in his hands, and huge breasts jiggled beneath the cotton blouse. He chuckled and undid the four buttons in front and pulled the blouse back over her arms and let it slip to the floor at his feet.
She had big breasts that shook like two huge melons. The tiny nipples were surrounded by large reddish-brown aureoles. Dave wet his lips and moved his hand to encircle the warm flesh.
"Please don't," the woman said, her voice breaking.
Dave ignored her. His hands clasped and squeezed her breasts rhythmically, and then he put his lips on a nipple and gently applied suction on it and moved his tongue over and around the nipple. The woman sighed deeply and leaned back against the closed door of the refrigerator, and he felt her relax beneath his touch. He moved to her other breast and repeated the action, his free hand massaging the trembling mound he had already kissed.
"Please," she said again, her voice quivering as desire slowly came alive in her body.
He felt the warmth of her flesh and knew he was going to make her. The thought made him feel giddy with power, and he slid his hands down over her bare skin to her hips and then unbuckled her belt and forced the tight clinging hip huggers down over creamy hips and lush thighs, pulling her briefs off at the same time. She shivered as his hands touched her private parts, but she made no sound nor did she attempt to escape him.
He zipped open his trousers and withdrew his swelling manhood. He grinned, as her eyes bugged out at the size of him. She whimpered and drew her thighs tightly together, but he worked one hand in between them and let the fingers of his hand whisper across the soft hair covering her love center and then slowly inserted one finger between the lips of her vagina.
"Don't fight me, honey. I'm going to have you. You might as well give in and enjoy it."
She nodded, her eyes riveted to his throbbing phallus, as he pushed it against her body and then slowly entered her. She let out a tiny cry, as he plunged home in her and then she spread her legs and slid her arms about his neck. Her lips parted, and a glazed look filled her hazel eyes as they kissed. Dave grunted and cupped her warm buttocks and lifted her off her feet. Her legs scissored around his back, and then she sank down on top of him, impaling her body on his.
The heat of her body thrilled him. He kissed her hungrily with lips and tongue and rammed her buttocks down onto his aroused state of desire. She pumped quickly against him, closing against his body, muscles squeezing and caressing, her body burning with the heat of passion, every movement thrilling him and bringing him closer and closer to completion.
"Don't stop!" she cried out. "Don't stop now!"
He grunted and pushed her back against the cold door of the refrigerator and held her tightly against him and met her thrusts with his own, until he felt their passion trigger and fuse. The moment of release filled him with the wonder and ecstasy of their lust. She collapsed against him, crying softly against his shoulder.
He held her for a moment and then lowered her to the floor and watched her turn from him, as she bent down to sweep up her discarded clothing with one hand. She turned and moved out of the room, naked hips swaying. He moved mechanically after her.
He followed her down a hallway and into the huge, master bedroom. He quickly peeled off his shirt and dropped his pants and shorts and kicked out of the tangle of clothing. He removed his shoes as she lay on the king-size bed. He moved to cover her naked form with his own, ramming immediately into her waiting, wanting body. Her legs closed around his back, drawing him deep into the wellspring of her body. Their hips began pumping in unison again. This time they made love slow and easy and took their time, letting the moment build, waiting for the moment to come when their passions would be at their peak. Then she cried out and dug her sharp nails into his bare back, and he felt the blind, sheer agony bursting like an atomic explosion in his loins, tearing him up with the sudden shattering fusing of their mutual need.
Twice more they made love before they parted. Dave felt drained. The woman whose name he did not know begged him to come back again, and he promised he would. He let his gaze linger on her perfect body, knowing in his mind he would never risk a second time with her or with any of his other rape victims. She had been willing, but still he had broken into her home and raped her. She could always put the finger on him, and that would be the end of his freedom and of his sex.
Dave left the house and drove quickly out of the neighborhood. There would be other women he could prey on. There were a lot of eager, lusting women walking around every day of the week. All he had to do was find them and take them. Hell, they liked it. He was doing them a favor. Adding spice to their love life.
Women loved to be raped. Some of them fought him in the early stages, but all women wanted to be dominated and subdued and forced to give in. It was a natural thing for a woman. A woman wanted a man stronger than she was; a man who could force his will on her and make her like it; a man who would break her in to his ways and make her cry out with passion and rapture. And raping women was right down his alley.
Rape a woman and have a willing love partner. Hell, yes! Why hadn't he thought of that before? He could rape Patsy and maybe then she would enjoy sex with him again. He'd been too easy on her, letting her have her way, giving into her wants and desires because of the kid. It wasn't any wonder she hated his guts. She thought he was a softie! He wasn't the man he'd once been in her eyes. She wanted to be dominated. She needed to be raped. Well, he'd start being that man again! like tonight!
He stormed into his house at six-fifteen, bent on having his wife. Already he had recuperated his physical stamina, and he could feel the pulsating desire in his loins. It wasn't strong yet, because of the exertion that afternoon, but he knew a shower would help revive him. Maybe he'd make Patsy take a shower with him. Then she would at least be clean!
He grinned at the thought as he stripped off his clothes and went looking for Patsy. Hell, yes, he thought. She'll take a shower with me and like it!
Patsy was in the kitchen, seated at the kitchen table drinking a cup of coffee. She turned disinterested eyes on him, as he entered and stood spraddle legged, flaunting his aroused state of maleness at her. She scowled and calmly sipped her coffee.
"You're a sex maniac," she said coolly.
He grinned. He felt good. Real good.
"And you're the object of my desires, baby," his grin broadened. "Come and get it."
Patsy wrinkled her nose in distaste. "You're out of luck. It's that time of month."
Anger coursed within him. He clenched his fists and tried to fight down the sudden feeling of irritation that gripped him. He stared at Patsy, knowing she was reveling in this moment, knowing how much she loved to make him feel helpless and incapable of doing anything to her. He wanted to bend her to his will, to beat her and make her submit to him, despite any obstacles.
"You bitch!" he snarled through clenched teeth.
Patsy smiled. Her eyes lit up like twin beacons in the fog.
"At least I'm safe for five days. I'm glad too."
Anger consumed his brain. The tom-toms in his head began to beat out their tune. He shook his head fiercely, trying to clear the cobwebs, realizing he could not brutally beat his wife the way he had clobbered the blonde in the department store.
"Get undressed!" he snapped harshly. "Now!"
"But we can't.. . "
"Now!" he screamed, embroiled in a sudden rage. "I'll take you when I want you, and I want you now!"
There was a new look in her eyes. A frightened look. She got up from the table without a word and moved into the other room, unbuttoning her blouse as she went. Dave followed her and felt some sense of satisfaction as he watched first her blouse and then her bra float to the floor while she was in route to the bedroom.
She stripped naked in the bedroom, and he saw that she was wearing her belt. For a moment he wanted to gag, but then his eyes focused on her heart-shaped lips, and a wild idea struck him. Suddenly he knew what he was going to make her do to him.
"Come on," he said, his mind made up. "Into the shower."
She flashed him a startled glance, then turned and proceeded him into the shower stall, without a word. He let her turn on the taps and adjust the water, and then he handed her a bar of soap and stepped into the small cubicle with her.
They soaped their bodies thoroughly and then rinsed off. Patsy started to step out of the stall, but Dave blocked her exit with one arm. Their eyes met and he flashed her a broad grin.
"Down on your knees," he said, the smile never leaving his face. "You know what to do."
Patsy gulped and blushed, but she dropped to her knees before him and put her hands on his hips. He stood spread legged and watched, as her lips surrounded his manhood and her tongue stabbed him with tiny little darts that fired his passion. He sucked in his breath and leaned back against the wall and let her have her way with him.
She worked slowly, taking more and more of him within the hot confines of her moist mouth, until the pressure of her lips and the caress of her tongue were driving him insane with passion. Tiny needles of delight shot through his body until, suddenly, he felt his loins explode. Passion swelled out of him in an agonizing wave of torture that both delighted and thrilled him to the essence. He held Patsy against him until the moment was gone and a calm peace slowly filled his body.
"That was good," Dave said, as he let Patsy lumber to her feet and turn and stumble out of the shower stall. "Real good, honey."
He stood under the hot spray and lathered his body with soap before toweling dry and moving into the bedroom to collapse in bed.
CHAPTER NINE
The morning was hot and sunny. Dave worked until noon, completing calls and service stops at four supermarkets in the west side of his territory. The orders were large and the day's work was accomplished smoothly and in stride. He grinned as he drove to Hamilton Park and lounged in the shade of friendly elm trees and picked at his tuna salad sandwich Patsy had made him for lunch. He washed the sandwich down with coffee from his Thermos and then lit a cigarette and sat back in his seat to relax for half an hour before going back to the grind of working for a living.
A young woman moving down in the shaded, wooded area in front of his car caught his attention. She was small and compactly built, wearing shorts and halter. She had nice firm thighs and shapely legs, and she moved in a manner that suggested a proud carriage and good ancestry. Her breasts pushed out against the flimsy halter. Long, wheat-blonde hair cascaded down over her bare back. Red lips parted in the sunlight streaming through the trees.
A surge of hot desire arrested him. Dave tensed his hands on the wheel and sucked deep on the cigarette between his lips. His eyes riveted to the girl's shape as he watched her spread a blanket down in the hollow near the trickling stream. It was cool and sheltered there, and the draw was protected by high banks and a forest of spreading elm trees.
The girl bent over, showing Dave perfectly rounded, taut buttocks. He sucked in his breath and found his body building with lust and desire. Suddenly he knew he had to have this girl. He wanted her. He was going to take her!
He pushed open the car door and stepped out, aware of the pounding need enveloping him. He looked quickly around. The area was deserted. There was nobody with the girl. All he had to do was walk down into the little draw by the stream and take her. It would be easy.
He closed the car door quietly so as not to alarm the girl, as she moved onto the blanket on her stomach, facing the stream. He moved carefully down the steep little hill to the shaded glen at the bottom and then tiptoed toward the unsuspecting girl. Blood pounded in his head. His body was on fire. He needed her. And he was going to have her!
A twig cracked like a pistol shot under his foot. The girl flipped over and met his glance, a terrified look spreading across her pretty face. She raised up on one elbow, her lips forming a sound. Dave lunged himself in a dive toward her. "Oh," she yelled.
His weight slammed her to the ground, flattening her on the blanket, his arms pinning her spread eagled, his body holding her beneath him. She struggled against him, kicking him with bare feet and wriggling beneath him. He snorted and then found her lips with his own and mashed greedily down against them, savoring the taste of ripe cherries, stabbing her deep with his tongue.
The girl attempted to turn her head, but he held her helpless beneath his weight, his tongue striking hers. Fire ripped loose in the farthest depths of his body, and he kissed her greedily with lips and tongue, suckling on her tongue, as she pounded one tiny fist against his back.
His hands moved to her flimsy halter, and he wadded the cotton material in both hands and cruelly ripped it free of her body. Tanned, creamy colored breasts sprang into view. He uttered a pleased oath, as his hands filled with the hot flesh of her rounded breasts. He squeezed them gently, applying pressure as he worked, rubbing the nipples to life between thumb and forefingers. They grew hard as the girl continued struggling beneath him.
His hands moved down over soft, bare flesh to her hips. He moved to her bottom, found the zipper, plunged it home. Then he peeled her shorts and panties off. She kicked out at him, catching him in the thigh, momentarily tilting him off balance.
"I'll scream!" she hissed, as she rolled away from him, grabbing her shorts and panties and attempting to pull them back on.
Dave laughed and leaped at her. She opened her mouth to scream, but his right hand cut off her cry. Blood spurted out of her torn mouth as flesh ripped and gave. One tooth loosened, and the girl cried out in pain and bewilderment. He laughed and mounted her waist and deliberately hit her twice, hard, in the stomach. The girl jerked with the blows. A low moan escaped her bleeding mouth. Her upper lip swelled like a balloon filling with air.
He tore off her shorts and panties, and she made no further move to resist him. He chuckled in anticipation, as he stripped off his own clothing and then mounted her lush, naked body. He knew it was foolhardy to take her in broad daylight, naked, but he knew this was the way it had to be. He wanted her. He wanted to be naked with her. Half the thrill of making it with a chick was to take her naked and be naked with her. The touch of her bare skin against his, the contact of warm bodies in the raw, the thrill of the mating-these were the pleasures he sought. Raping a girl wasn't enough. He had to have her naked and be naked with her at the same time.
He squeezed her breasts, and she moaned and tossed her head back and forth. Her eyes were closed now, and he grinned and gave into his desires to kiss and suckle her breasts. His tongue traced the tanned globes of desire, and then he nipped the nipples with his teeth, causing her to jump each time. He laughed softly, deep in his throat, and then lipped a nipple, teasing it with the pressure of his tongue. She moaned and writhed beneath him.
He repeated the action with her other breast and then traced a trail of fire and desire down over her stomach to her navel and then down across her flat belly to her lush inner thighs and then to the bulging lips of her down-covered vagina. She writhed under him in heat now, lost in completely wild abandon. She wanted him now. The heat scorching his lips rushed out of her body like steam from a radiator. He knew she was ready to receive him, but still he lingered, savoring the moment, wanting to achieve the utmost of desire from her.
"I can't stand it any longer," the girl whispered. "Please.. . "
Dave chuckled and moved to mount her. He straddled her with his knees and then palmed her buttocks and pulled her up to meet him, lifting her buttocks high off the ground. He inserted his manhood into her yielding love center and plunged deep within her hot body. The girl screamed shrilly in sudden shock and pain. He laughed harshly, as he felt his flesh penetrate unexplored territory.
"Hang on, baby. You'll love what I've got for you," he gloated, grinning broadly at her.
She shivered and a tremble shook her entire body. She closed her eyes, as he pulled her deeper onto his instrument of torture. She clamped swollen lips shut and tightened tiny hands into balled fists and pounded them against the ground, as he forced his way farther and farther into the depths of her body.
"You love it, don't you, baby?"
Tears ran down her cheeks. He stared at her and plunged deep into her body. Then she nodded. A slight, almost imperceptible nod of her head. He grinned and bent forward over her body, doubling her legs over his shoulders, as he fell forward on top of her spread-eagled body, ramming into the very depths of her young body.
She screamed loudly, piercingly, then a tremble shook her body and her hands moved around his back, sharp nails ripping into his flesh, stinging him, drawing blood. He pumped his hips at her, meeting her suddenly urgent, thrusting demands, savoring the pain and the sting of her ripping nails, loving the moment, knowing this girl was one of the best he had ever taken by force.
"I love it! I love it!" she cried out, nails digging a bloody furrow down his back.
The moment stood still. The only sound was their harsh, ragged breathing, as they labored to reach fulfillment. The girl's eyes were open now, glazed over, regarding him with compassion and wonder. He met her gaze, flashing her a smile, not missing a stroke, as they plunged down to earth together and then rose high off the blanket before slamming down against the earth once again. Faster and faster, hotter and hotter, the passion building, threatening to explode in his loins. Still he held back, wanting it to be right, wanting to receive the sign from her that she was ready to meet a climax.
He read it in her eyes when the time was right, and he bent and kissed her passionately with tongue and lips and then slammed into her willing body and felt his loins trigger a flood of desire into her. Muscles clamped against him, gripping him tightly, then releasing him, only to grip him again. Then a warm flood of passion seared his flesh, and he knew they had reached completion together.
They lay quietly in one another's arms until their bodies cooled. Dave tried to get up, but the girl clung to him, her eyes begging him to take her again. He met her gaze and shook his head slowly, sadly. He was shot. The sex binge he'd been on in the last week had all but drained him of strength and energy. He was not capable again.
"Maybe I'll see you later, baby," he said, as he got to his feet and reached down to pick up his clothing.
"I don't even know your name."
He stuck a cigarette into his mouth and lit it and then turned to face her. She was staring at his limp maleness, her face sad and forlorn.
"I don't know your name, either, baby. So what?"
She moved to hands and knees and moved over to touch him gently with one hand.
"I want to see you again. We're lovers now. We're real good together. The best ever. That can't end."
He pulled on his shorts, disengaging her seeking hand from his spent flesh. Then he donned his slacks and stuffed his shirt into his trousers. He zipped up his pants and slipped into his shoes and then picked his tie off the ground and tied it expertly around his collar.
"Sorry, baby. Today was it. You're good, and I'd like to have you again, but I can't take the chance."
The girl got to her feet and surged tantalizingly before him. A ray of sunlight filtered down through the branches of the trees, bathing her tanned lush body, enveloping her with an aura of loveliness. She touched his arm, smiling sweetly, despite the swollen upper lip.
"You'll see me when I want you to, or I'll holler rape!" she barked, smiling sweetly in her victory. "I can describe you and your car. There aren't that many foreign jobs like yours around L.A. The cops will find you and you'll get twenty years to life, mister." Her smile broadened. "I'm under-age-seventeen."
Sweat beaded his forehead. For a wild moment he just stood there and stared at her. Then he felt the dull pounding in the back of his head. He sucked in his breath and squeezed his eyes shut and willed his body to move, but he felt rooted to the ground. He put his hands to his pounding temples and tried to quiet the sudden echoing of the drop hammers in his skull. No! He thought. Not again!
The girl moved up to embrace him, her arms slipping about his neck, her naked breasts and torso fitting snugly against him in a teasing manner.
"You raped me, mister, and I liked it. Now you're stuck with me. We're going to be lovers. Maybe I'll even make you marry me."
Something snapped in his head. The drop hammers crashed through the barrier of sanity, slamming full blast inside his skull. He cursed her suddenly and shoved her roughly away from him, his eyes filling with pain and anger. He doubled his fists and advanced toward the suddenly startled, frightened girl.
She backed away from him, her body trembling. He stalked her, knowing he had to hurt her, knowing it was the only way to shut out the awful pain in his head.
She opened her mouth to scream, just as he jabbed a left fist toward her, catching her flush on the mouth, cutting off her cry. She spun and fell to the ground.
He moved toward her quickly, as she came back to her feet. His right fist sank into the pit of her stomach and the breath whooshed out of her, as she doubled up. A hard left to her jaw and a right to her breast sent her reeling and falling to the ground. He pounced on top of her, pinning her arms to the ground as he fell across her body, his fists pumping at will. Flesh gave and bones crunched and blood spurted. She fought him with nails and kicking feet, but he ignored her feeble assault and pumped his fists and beat at her battered face and body, until she lost consciousness and lay still.
He shook his head, the drop hammers softening their blows in his skull, the pain diminishing. He shook his head harder, blinking his eyes, as he stared down at the mutilated form of the naked girl. Then he got shakily to his feet. The bloody hulk of the girl made him gag. Her face was like a shapeless, twisted mass of pulp. She would never be pretty again. He had changed her features, flattening them, ruining her for life.
He turned and gagged and felt his insides exploding. He leaned over, vomiting suddenly, desperately ill. Good lord, he thought, what have I done? She may be dead! I've killed her!
He turned and stumbled up the rocky hillside to his car and fell behind the wheel. Then he looked slowly around the area, but there was no sign of life. Methodically, he checked his pockets to make sure nothing was missing. Satisfied, he started his car and drove slowly out of the park, holding his speed down, knowing that any sudden burst of panic might make somebody remember seeing his car at the scene.
He drove home in a fog. This time he had lost his head and gone berserk. He had beaten a girl half to death. He had ruined her face for life. She would never be the same again.
Patsy was out when he got home. He mentally thanked her for that, as he stripped and stepped into a hot shower. The cuts on his back burned as hot water beat against them. He grimaced and waited until the sting was gone. Then he soaped his body thoroughly and rinsed himself off and toweled himself dry.
He studied his back in the mirror and decided the cuts were not deep enough to worry about. He would just have to wear a tee shirt around Patsy for a few days. She wouldn't care. She didn't want sex with him, anyway. And it would let him cover up the wounds.
CHAPTER TEN
Bold black headlines and pictorial evidence splashed the story of rape and violence on the front pages of the city newspapers the next day. Dave sat stiff and trembling in a coffee shop and gulped down the hot brew, as he read the article. The girl was in shock and very incoherent. She had sustained broken bones and loss of blood, in addition to the rape. She would recover, but it would be a long time before she would be emotionally and physically competent again.
He gulped down his coffee and shook his head, as he fumbled a cigarette out of his pack and lit it. He had gone too far this time. Sooner or later the police would catch him and then there would be hell to pay. He would go to prison. And what about Patsy and the kid? They would be hurt by the publicity and notoriety and left on welfare. He had to think about them too. He couldn't let them suffer for his mistakes.
He puffed on his cigarette and stared at the blood-splattered pictures of the girl on the ground with a blanket covering her nude body. He had to quit raping women. He had to force Patsy to accommodate him, even when she did not want to. It was a wife's duty to take care of her husband's needs. And she was going to take care of him whenever he needed her. Hell, he had to vent his lusts on Patsy. Otherwise it would mean a long term in prison.
There were women all around him that day. Sexy women, dressed in tight-fitting shorts and halters, pedal pushers, hip huggers, blouses that showcased full-bodied, high-arched swaying breasts. Dave swore and felt the driving need bursting to life in his loins. He gritted his teeth and stuck to his work, refusing to give the women a second look, knowing he could not afford the temptation of taking another victim.
I can't do it, he repeated over and over again to himself. The cops will catch me. I'll go to jail. I can't take the chance. Patsy has to take care of me. I'll force her to give me sex. I'll beat her into submission. I'll make her lay for me when I want her.
He went home at five-thirty, his loins on fire. He rushed into the house, his body burning with desire. Patsy saw him coming, and the look in her eyes gave away her fright. Dave didn't say a word. He started peeling off his clothes as fast as he could. Patsy shrank back against the couch.
"Get stripped!" Dave shouted in a frantic voice. "I want you!"
Patsy got up meekly and moved before him into the bedroom. She methodically took off her dress and bra and panties, as he shrugged out of the rest of his clothes. Her head hung low and she kept her back to him. Dave cursed and kicked off his last remaining garment of clothing and moved up behind to cup his wife's big breasts. She shivered slightly but made no move to aid him.
He came up close against her, bare flesh touching bare flesh, and squeezed her large breasts gently. Her body was cold against his palms, and he cursed angrily. The one woman in the world he had to be married to, and she had to be cold!
He deliberately moved so that his aroused state of passion pushed between her legs. The warm moistness of her passion center triggered his desire, and he suddenly shoved her back down. She sighed deeply and bent over and spread her legs and gripped her ankles with her hands. He grabbed her by her inner thighs and plunged home in her body. She squealed once, and then he rammed deep inside her and began pistoning wildly against her flesh. Patsy stiffened and let him have his way. He plunged against her until an explosion ripped loose in his loins and fused his passion. Then he swore softly and pushed her to the floor.
"You don't have to treat me like a dog!" Patsy whimpered from a curled-up position on her side on the bare floor.
Dave snarled down at her.
"You don't have to be so damn cold, either," he snapped.
Patsy sat up, running one hand through her hair, her breasts jiggling with her movements.
"Maybe if you tried arousing me first, I wouldn't be so cold."
"I've tried that! The truth is that you don't like sex. You never did!"
Patsy slowly climbed to her feet, her cheeks flaming with anger. She met his piercing gaze but backed safely away from him, toward the bathroom door.
"The honeymoon's over! We've got a kid now and responsibilities! We can't go having sex all the time, and more kids we can't afford, and that's why I can't react to you! You don't make much money, and I don't want to have kids every year, and that's exactly what'll happen if we keep having sex every time you want it!"
Dave doubled his fists. The nerve began beating a warning in his forehead. He ignored it and advanced on Patsy who retreated into the bathroom.
"We'll have sex whenever I want it from now on!" Dave shouted at her in a loud, angry voice. "And that's going to be every time I need it! Get that straight right now!"
Patsy slammed the door in his face. He heard the bolt lock snap into place, He cursed and tried the door, but it was locked.
"Open up!"
"No!" Patsy shouted through the protecting barrier. "Leave me alone! Go away!"
He pounded his fists against the door. The drop hammers in his skull began banging away again. He closed his eyes and gave into the consuming anger, screaming loudly at his wife.
"You better start leaving me alone or I'll have you put back in the looney bin!" she shouted back at him. "I mean it this time!"
He turned and groped blindly for the bed and threw himself across the mattress. Pain wracked his head. He ground his teeth together and put his hands against his temples and pushed hard. The pain was unbearable. The deafening noise of the drop hammers echoing in his eardrums was frightening. He couldn't stand it. Something had to give.
Then he remembered the pills. He got to his feet and returned to the locked bathroom door and beat his fists against it.
"My pills!" he screamed in a pleading voice. "Gimme my pills!"
"You're not pulling that old one on me," Patsy said, determination rising in her voice. "I'm no dope."
Dave sank to his knees, his voice begging now.
"Patsy, for God's sake! My pills!"
He groaned and pounded his fists against his head, grinding his teeth together, squeezing his eyes shut, hoping he could hang on. He heard the door open and then Patsy was there with a yellow pill in one hand and a glass of water in the other. He downed the pill quickly, and then let Patsy help him to his feet and back to bed.
He lay back on the pillow and waited for the drop hammers to quiet. He clenched his fists and waited for the sound to diminish. Time was what he needed. Time to hang on, to let the sound die. Time to sleep.
Time would take care of everything.
The newspapers were full of the rape-beating again. The police were following clues. Dave began to panic. What clues? Had he dropped something at the scene that could lead to him? Has the girl positively identified him?
He shook his head and fought to calm his nerves. The girl could not recognize him. She had not seen his car well, other than to know it was a foreign car. And how many foreign cars were there in L.A.? Dave chuckled. Thousands and thousands, that's how many. All the girl could tell the cops was that a short, dark-complexioned young man driving a small foreign car had raped her. That description could fit thousands of young men in the L.A. area. There was nothing to be worried about.
He worked hard all day, ignoring the thrusting breasts and wriggling hips that moved by him up and down the store aisles. He fought down his passions and restrained himself from thinking about the women. He began playing a game, trying to see how many of the women he could not even think about sexually. He knew that to think about even one female that way for the barest of fleeting seconds would be disastrous. Then he would have to have them, and he couldn't afford being caught by the police and prosecuted on a rape charge. No, he had to keep hands off.
He finished the day's work and stopped downtown and went into a small, dimly lit theater and sat down in a balcony seat. The movie on the screen was boring, but he didn't care. He wanted to unwind, to think about himself and his future, to reassure himself that he could resist women and stop raping them. The words Patsy had said the day before about going back to the looney bin were not idle ones. He well knew the danger the threat represented. He had to regain control of his emotions and passions, or he would be headed back for a long stay in a nut house.
A young woman moved to a seat a few chairs from him. He regarded her curiously. She was tall and shapely, with silken-clad limbs and long hair that cascaded down her back. She seemed oblivious of his presence, as she crossed her long legs loosely and settled back in her seat.
Dave concentrated on her shapely limbs and felt a stir of desire growing in his loins. He cursed himself and fought to jerk his glance back at the screen, but he couldn't. Her legs were nice and shapely, and he could see up her thigh to her garter belt. A surge of desire ripped loose in his loins. He sucked in his breath as perspiration dampened his palms. He wanted her, but still he forced himself to sit and fight against this thing taking hold of him.
This is crazy, he told himself. I can't do anything in a movie theater balcony. I can't rape this girl. Not now or here!
Still he found himself looking around them, surprised to find the balcony deserted except for the two of them. The thought made him feel giddy. They were alone. He could force his attentions on the girl. Hell, maybe that was why she had sat down near him. Maybe she wanted him to make a play for her!
Maybe that was it!
He rose and moved and erased the three-chair distance between them and sat down next to her. She looked up, startled, her red-lipped mouth hanging open in surprise. He flashed her his best smile and draped one arm about her shoulders. His free hand caressed her nylon-clad limb.
"Hi, baby. Want some company?"
The girl shivered but did not say anything. Her eyes grew big and focused on him. He leaned over and kissed her full lips, letting his tongue dart inside her moist mouth. His free hand slid quickly up her leg to the panty line.
She kicked out at him, the toe of her pointed shoe catching him in the hip, stunning him with the force of the blow. Hands pushed him away, sharp nails digging into his face. He cursed and balled one fist and swung blindly at the girl, catching her alongside the neck. She screamed, the sound loud and piercing and echoing throughout the theater.
Dave froze for just a fraction of a second. The girl used that moment to rise out of her seat, dashing for the aisle, screaming again and again as she ran. Down in the theater proper, he could hear the rising murmur of startled voices.
He rose, turning around him in bewilderment. Then he spotted the neon sign and moved toward it quickly. His heart pounded wildly in his chest. He knew he had to get away. He couldn't afford to get caught.
"Hey!" a man's voice shouted at him.
Dave turned and saw a big, barrel-chested man looming into the balcony from out of the projection booth. Dave turned and ran blindly for the exit door, reaching it, shoving violently against the double handles. Behind him he heard the pounding of the man's feet, as the distance narrowed between them. Dave shoved hard at the door handle, but the door would not give. He sobbed and exerted a superhuman effort, putting all of his strength and terror behind his push. The doors squeaked protestingly and then plunged open, hurtling him into the late afternoon.
"Hold it right there!" the man shouted from close behind him.
Dave stumbled and ran blindly down the alleyway, looking back once over his shoulder to see the broad man watching him from the open doorway of the exit. He turned and ran out of sight and then slowed to a walk a block away.
He turned down a side street and forced himself to remain calm and walk quietly. Behind him the wail of a police siren split the air. Dave sucked in his breath and looked about for a haven of escape.
A bar sign winked at him. He crossed the street at a jog and entered the bar and took a stool at the far end. His breathing was returning to normal and the panic feeling was gone. He smiled at the bartender and ordered a beer and forced himself to sip it slowly.
A frowsy-looking brunette swaggered over to him, hands on hips. He looked her over, read the cheap clothes and reeking perfume and flaunted breasts and bare legs as an invitation. The girl sat down on the stool next to him, a bright smile on her face.
"Buy me a drink, honey?"
Dave shrugged and then nodded. Why not? Maybe he could get the woman outside for a quickie. And she would be good cover in case the cops came nosing around. He was only two blocks from the theater. The girl had not seen him well enough to make an identification, but the guy chasing him had had a good look and had probably described him accurately to the fuzz. This barfly would be a way of walking out of a possible trap.
He turned on the full charm.
"I've got a bottle at my pad. Let's go there."
The brunette eyed him suspiciously for a moment, then nodded and swayed to her feet.
"Drink up, honey. I'm ready. You look like a right guy. Besides, you can't do anything to me a lot of others haven't done."
Dave chuckled as he downed his beer. He got up and paid his bill and took the brunette's arm. Their hips rubbed together as they made their way to the street and moved toward where he had parked his car.
The brunette appeared older in the fading light of day. She was hard, and makeup on her face covered layers of dirt and grime. She wasn't clean. He knew before they had walked half a block that he would take her, but he also knew he wouldn't enjoy her. Dirty women were not for him. Still, the' fire in his loins had not gone out, and he would quench it with this woman.
They reached his car, and she squealed as she slid onto the bucket seat. He got behind the wheel and drove down to the warehouse district, where it was dark and lonely. Then he turned to the woman and put his hands on her breasts. She did not fight him but let him have his way. She watched him coolly bare her breasts and examine them. They were big and soft and warm. He squeezed them in his palms and felt his passion grow.
"It'll cost you ten bucks, honey," the brunette said softly.
He laughed and squeezed her breasts hard. The woman sucked in her breath sharply and fought to disengage his hands. He twisted her breasts cruelly, gripping the flesh firmly, bringing a cry of pain to the woman's lips.
"It won't cost me nothing, baby," he said, enjoying the woman's pain and discomfort. "Will it?"
Tears came into her eyes. She bit her lower lip and met his gaze and slowly shook her head.
"Please don't hurt me any more. Take me any way you want, only don't hurt me!"
He laughed and gave her breasts one more cruel twist. The woman cried out in pain.
"Any way I want?"
She nodded, blinking the tears back.
He released her breasts and reached down and zipped open his pants. He withdrew his throbbing instrument of desire and nudged the woman with his free hand. She opened her eyes and sobbed once before nodding and then moving down to the floor of the car. He opened his legs and sat back in his seat and calmly lit a cigarette, as the woman's hands moved over to fondle him. Then her lips slid over the head of his manhood, and he relaxed.
He smoked thoughtfully and watched the woman caress and nourish his desire expertly with lips and tongue. She brought him along slowly, letting the passion build, until he couldn't stand it any longer. Then he tossed his cigarette out the window and gripped her head and held her to him, as his passion exploded in her.
He pushed her out of the car and drove quickly out of the area and home. The house was dark, and he parked the Alpha in the garage and let himself into the house. The thought struck him that maybe Patsy had packed up and gone home to her mother. He shrugged his shoulders, as he fumbled for the light switch in the kitchen. Maybe that was what he really wanted-to get rid of Patsy. Then he could really go back to living it up with the single babes and making out with new ones every night.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Sunlight filtered into the bedroom. Dave groaned and rolled onto his back and opened his eyes. He reached one hand across the bed for Patsy, but she wasn't there. He opened his eyes wide and sat up, suddenly very alert.
The sheet was not wrinkled on her side of the bed. She had not slept with him. He cursed and threw back the covers and got out of bed. He moved to the wall closet and slid the door open. Her things were gone.
He moved quickly to the baby's room and found the baby, crib and baby's clothes missing. Suddenly it dawned on him. Patsy had left him!
He swore softly, as he showered and shaved and dressed. He moved about the house looking for a note of some kind. There was none. Patsy was not the type to leave a note. She had gone home to her mother.
He left the house and drove slowly to a nearby restaurant for breakfast and ate a leisurely meal of pancakes and drank three cups of hot black coffee. The food filled his stomach and stifled his hunger pains, and he sat and doodled over his last cup of Java.
The thought that Patsy had left him did not bother him in the slightest, except in the sex department, and she hadn't been much good there lately, anyway. The knowledge that there would be no more sex at home did not discourage him. Patsy would be back in a day or two. She hated her mother more than she hated him. He would just have to force himself not to think about sex, until she returned home. And then, if she followed previous precedents, she would be more than willing to have sex with him every night for a month. And maybe by that time he could curb his sudden wild impulses and passions that had caused him to lose control of himself and rape other women.
He left the restaurant and called his office and then began the methodical round of stores he had to service that day. He checked shelves, arranged displays and filled orders and mailed them to the home office that night. He ate out twice more during the day and retired before the television set in the nude and drank red wine and smoked and tried to think of nothing at all.
And for most of the evening he succeeded.
Sex did not rear its ugly head. He began to feel elated about his sudden resolve not to give into his sexual needs. I can beat this thing, he thought triumphantly. I can lick it!
A movie came onto the small screen, starring one of the early sex symbols of films. The blonde siren was dressed to showcase exquisite breasts and swaying hips and long legs. Desire crept into his being, as he watched the star move across the screen. He began to curse his helplessness to do anything about the sudden overwhelming need building up in his body. Angrily, he got up and shut off the television set and went to bed.
He tossed and turned in bed for more than an hour, his passion swelling his prick out of all proportions. He cursed and put a hand on himself and closed his eyes and tried to imagine he was making love to his wife. Then quickly and in a frenzy, he moved his fist until an explosion shattered his body. Then he got up to clean himself before going back to bed.
Sleep came hard. It was early morning, before he dropped into a fitful, restless sleep that robbed him of needed vitality and energy. He arose late the next morning and went to work, fiercely determined to whip the driving need for sex bursting inside him.
The day dragged and scantily clad women, showing too much breast and buttock, moved by him in waves throughout store after store. He tried ignoring their charms, but there was about the sway of a hip and the jiggle of a breast that forced him to look, and it drove his burning need to the bursting point. All day long his body was on fire, and he knew he could not go another night without fulfillment. Still, he did not want to chance forcing another woman into submission.
He called Patsy at her mother's on his way home from work and begged her to come back to him. Patsy was cool and determined not to return. He pleaded with her, telling her he loved her and needed her. She refused to believe him.
"You want me in bed, and that's the only way you want me," Patsy said coolly. "Barefoot and pregnant, that's how it'll be if I come back to you."
"No, you won't!" he promised in a rush of words. "We'll get the doctor to give you the pills! Honest, Patsy! I promise."
Patsy remained silent for a few minutes. Dave felt his pulses pounding in his forehead. He fought to still his beating heart. Hell, he needed her. He really needed her! He couldn't let her stay away from him.
"All right," Patsy agreed slowly. "I'll come home in a few days."
"A few days!" he said, exploding with anger. "I need you now! Tonight!"
"For sex?" Patsy said, mocking him cruelly.
He glared at the receiver in his hand but held back the words he knew could end everything between them. He counted to ten and then let his breath whoosh out of his lungs. Finally he put the receiver back to his ear.
"Okay," he said wearily. "A few days. Only don't stay too long. Eating out is expensive. And I miss you."
"I miss you too," Patsy said, meaning it. "But I want us to get a good start this time. I'll get an appointment with the doctor and get the pills. Then I'll come home."
They talked for a few minutes, and then Dave hung up and got in his car and drove aimlessly for a while. His mind was cluttered with thoughts. His prick swelled and his body burned with desire and need for a woman. He knew he could not fight it off. He had to have a woman. Now!
A young teenage girl strolled down a dimly lit street just ahead of him. He caught her in the lights of his, car and slowed down, letting his glance take in the swaying hips and nice, shapely young legs. Suddenly he knew he had to have her. Something wild and insane possessed him, making him stop his car beside her, rolling down the window on the passenger side, calling out to the girl.
"Miss," he said in a pleasant voice, "can you direct me? I'm lost,"
The blonde teenager turned and scrutinized him sharply. He sucked in his breath, as he stared at her full breasts filling the loose sweater. She was a pretty girl with a round face and heart-shaped lips. For a wild second he was afraid she was going to run off, but then she moved toward him, swaying in a tantalizing, hip-shrugging walk that excited him beyond control.
"What address you looking for?" the girl asked in a disinterested tone of voice, as she moved against the car and then folded her arms on the window and looked through at him.
Dave slid over on the seat and flashed her a bright smile. One hand moved quickly to clamp on the girl's arm in a tight hold. She jerked back, eyes wide open with terror, red lips parting. He snaked his free arm out and caught her across the mouth and stifled her scream and then kicked the door open with one foot. The girl fell away from the car, as he moved out and around the door to secure his hold on her. She struggled against him, as he forced her inside the car and closed the door without letting go of her. She kicked out at him, catching him in the hip. He cursed her and slammed her on her back on the car seat. She squirmed beneath him, fighting him with flailing arms and kicking feet, as he let go of her arm in order to take a handkerchief out of his coat pocket and tie around her mouth, gagging her so she could not scream. Then he fished in the glove compartment for some wire and bent her arms behind her back and tied them securely.
He pushed her down on the floor of the front seat, where she sat huddled with her legs drawn in under her, wide-open eyes staring at him in the semi-darkness of the car. Dave put the car in gear and drove slowly out of the neighborhood, eyes flitting over the street, intent on seeking out anyone who may have seen them.
He drove slowly, cautiously, out into the country and then turned down a canyon road and drove for fifteen minutes before pulling off into a cow path obscured by weeds, and then into a heavily wooded area, where he knew they would be completely alone.
He shut off the motor, doused the car lights, then went back to open the trunk and take out a blanket and spread it on the ground. Then he returned to the car and hauled the girl bodily out and quickly removed her skirt and panties and shoes. The girl lay still on the blanket, shivering, the fight gone out of her. Now she was willing to give him what he wanted, in the hope he would let her go free. He smiled and unbuttoned her blouse and pulled it back on her wrists. He took her bra off and delighted himself with feeling and pinching her breasts. Then he stood up and removed his own clothing before lowering his body on top of hers.
He kissed her lips and found them sweet and salty tasting. He poked his tongue into the warm moistness of her mouth and struck her tongue, as his hands moved down over firm, high-arched, full-bodied breasts and then down over slender hips and lush thighs, and finally to her passion center. The girl whimpered, as he forced entrance into her body, but she spread her legs and lay quietly and let him have his way. He grunted as he felt the tearing in her vagina, but he forced his way deeper, until the girl began moving sideways violently in an effort to receive him.
He began pistoning his hips against her, holding her by the smooth flesh of her buttocks, forcing her legs over his shoulders, driving deeper and deeper into her with every stroke. The girl's body warmed and then fired with passion, and she pulled the gag free and wrapped her arms about his neck and claimed his lips with her own. Her tongue
I'll darted wildly into his mouth, and he caught it between his lips and suckled greedily on it.
Soft breasts cushioned him, as they moved in unison, wildly, toward the race to fulfillment. Hard-pointed little nipples bore into his chest. Now they were making it big, and Dave reveled in his lust, glorying in his ability to make his victims really want sex with him.
Maybe rape is what a woman really wants a man to do to her. Dave chuckled as he moved faster and faster with the willing girl writhing beneath him. Maybe a woman needs to be raped to feel passion for a man. Maybe this is the thing that makes a woman a good sex partner. Perhaps women find that rape brings the wild animal out in them and releases their pent-up passions and frustrations and overcomes their normal reluctance to give into a man during the sex act. Sure, it was probably fear at first, then the sudden, frantic need for sexual gratification. Every woman he had raped had fought at first but then had given in and become wildly erotic and more passionate than anyone else he had ever known. All of his victims had been desperately eager to gain satisfaction, and by satisfying them he had completely sated his own tortured and frustrated desires.
An explosion wracked his body, and he felt the girl's answering climax as muscles clenched and squeezed him, and the overpowering heat of her body seemed to sear his flesh. He hung on and began pumping furiously at her again, and in a few moments she was answering his driving need with her own. She was matching him, fighting him in a way he needed, giving to him as well as he was giving to her.
A second shattering climax fused their bodies, and still they labored against one another, until they spent their passions a third time.
The girl moaned softly and lay still. Dave rose to his elbows and dug in his clothing for cigarettes and matches. He put a lighted filter tip between the girl's lips, and she dragged the smoke gratefully into her lungs. They smoked silently for a moment. Dave studied the girl in the flickering light of his cigarette and judged her to be about seventeen. She was pretty and equipped with a beautiful, well-formed body. He bet she would be the hottest article in her school in the future. She had been close to a virgin, if not a virgin, and tonight had been her first real awakening to sex. Dave felt a warm glow of satisfaction flow through his body. He was glad he had been the first real man for her.
He climbed stiffly to his feet and got dressed and then sat in the car, until the girl got dressed and climbed in beside him. He drove her to within three blocks of where he'd abducted her and let her go free. She didn't say a word but just huddled aginst the far door and remained absolutely still. She got out of the car and disappeared quickly into the darkness. Dave accelerated the Alpha and roared out of the neighborhood. He drove home by a devious route.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The morning newspapers were full of the rape story. Dave choked on his coffee as he stared at the headlines, then read the text. The girl had called the police and described him and his car. The police were tying the two rape cases together. They knew his description and method of operation and the type of car he drove.
Dave felt his hand shake, as he lifted his coffee cup. He swore softly and put it down and fumbled a cigarette out of his pack and lit it clumsily. He looked slowly about the restaurant at the other diners, but nobody was paying any attention to him. He sucked the smoke gratefully into his lungs, exhaling slowly, fighting to get hold of himself.
The fuzz doesn't know I'm the one, he told himself grimly. Ten thousand other guys in town fit my description and probably drive foreign cars, to boot.
He left the restaurant and began making the rounds of his markets, but his mind was not on his work. Every time a police squad car would patrol by him, he would get the shakes. Somehow he managed to ignore the observing officers, and they did not stop him. Still, he had the feeling the cops were giving his black Alpha a close once over.
Lush breasts and wriggling thighs moved by him all day long, and passion built in him, but there was fright within him now, and he knew he could not chance forcing another woman to bend to his will. He had been lucky. Nobody had recognized him nor identified him. Only two of his rape victims had gone to the police. He was way ahead of the game. Now was the time to quit.
Still his penis pulsated with need and want, and it was impossible to deny his needs any longer. He called Patsy at noon to determine when she would be home.
"I don't know," Patsy said over the phone. "Two days maybe."
Dave felt helpless frustration grip him. He could not wait two days.
"I need you, honey!" he begged. "I miss you."
They talked a while and then Dave hung up and went back to work. His throbbing need kept his mind on sex and his driving need for sexual fulfillment. He could not handle his work without making slipshod errors, and twice he had to rearrange displays in markets because of his cursed need.
That night he ate dinner in a drive-in and then went home and stripped and stood in a cold shower for half an hour, until the burning desire subsided. Then he opened a can of beer and watched television, until he fell asleep on the couch.
He awoke in the morning on the floor, feeling stiff and sore. He forced himself into the shower and ran the hot water until the soreness ebbed, then he shaved and dressed and bought a newspaper, before entering a restaurant for breakfast.
This time he sucked in his breath as bold black headlines screamed out at him. The L.A. rapist had struck twice last night!
Dave lit a cigarette with trembling fingers, as he read the two new stories. Anger burned within him. The nerve of some creep horning in on his field! And the guy had used a small, foreign car and was short and dark and wearing a business suit-just like him! The cases were parallel to the two reported rapes he had committed!
One woman had been raped in an alley and the other in her own apartment. Both cases were hours apart, and it was assumed that the same rapist had hit both women and beaten them up and left them lying nude and unconscious. Witnesses had seen a short, dark little man in a business suit climb into a foreign automobile and speed away from the scene of both crimes. Police were searching for the rapist and hoping for an early capture.
Dave ate his breakfast woodenly. The thought about another guy copping his act irritated him. He couldn't put his finger on the reason, but he knew he didn't like it. Still, he had to admit there were some benefits, because only he and the guy masquerading as him knew there were two of them. The cops were only looking for one guy!
He went to work determined to keep his mind off the babes, and for once he was able to accomplish the task. All he thought about were the two rape cases he had nothing to do with. And after a while he began putting himself in the place of the second rapist and then imagining how the women had been in bed. Passion came to life in him and he cursed his own need and tried to focus on his work, but it was useless.
All day long his prick remained hard, and not even a cold shower at home could dampen his ardor. He wanted a woman. He needed one. He had to go out and find one.
He went out to eat dinner and bought a late edition of the newspaper. The rape stories were still on the front page, but this time the address of one of the victims was printed. Dave stared at the address and felt a new throbbing. A wild idea crystalized in his mind. He had not touched this woman, but yet he had been accused of the crime of rape. Hell, he had the name so he might as well have the game.
The idea became more appealing, as he ate his dinner. Returning to rape a victim a second time the following night would be a move not even the police could predict. It would be the last thing they would suspect. And the woman was a good-looking, dark-haired beauty. She would be nice in bed with those big breasts and broad hips. Hell, he wanted her. He had to have her. The newspaper had even printed her address! All he had to do was go up and.. .
He paid his check and left the restaurant and walked to his car and then drove down to the woman's neighborhood and looked it over very critically. Darkness enveloped the city, and he drove a few blocks away and left his car in an all-night parking lot and then walked six blocks to the apartment house the woman lived in.
He double checked the apartment number and then rode the elevator to her floor and peeked up and down the carpeted hallway before getting out. There was nobody in sight. So far, so good.
He moved cautiously down to her door and, after listening for a moment, rapped sharply on the oak-paneled door. He heard muted footsteps moving toward him from within the apartment, and he held his breath.
The door opened a crack, and a sexy looking black-haired woman stared out at him. She was wearing a black robe that hugged the lines of her shapely body. Her glance was cool and emotionless.
"What do you want?"
He flashed her his broadest smile.
"I sell insurance. After what happened, I figured you could use some."
The woman blinked, startled, then a smile slowly curved her red lips.
"You carry rape insurance?"
Dave felt his cheeks flush. He tore his eyes away from the bountiful display of breast and coughed to cover his embarrassment.
"No, not exactly," he said, his voice weak. "I just thought you might be a good prospect."
The woman chuckled softly and closed the door. Dave's heart missed a beat. He thought he had flopped. Then he heard the rattle of the night lock chain, and the door opened wide and the woman beckoned him inside. He moved into the well-furnished apartment, clicking the door shut behind him. He watched the woman sway across the room, then she sat on the low-slung eight-foot divan.
"Have a seat," she said, lighting a cigarette. "And sell me some insurance."
He sat down on the edge of the divan near her. He could not take his eyes off the lush lines of shapely leg and ample thigh displayed by the half-open robe. She was really built. Lord, what a prize! What a dirty shame another guy had gotten to her first.
He lit a cigarette to cover his embarrassment and fought for just the right words. He wanted her, but first he had to check and make sure the apartment was empty. It wouldn't do to find police staked out in the other rooms.
"I wonder if I might use your bathroom?"
The woman shrugged and casually lifted one arm and pointed toward a hallway.
"Help yourself."
Dave moved down the hallway, being careful to peek into other rooms, as he passed them. There was nobody around. The place was clean. Dave breathed a sigh of relief and used the toilet and then wandered back to the living room. The woman had not moved.
"Coffee in the kitchen if you care for some," the woman said, "Help yourself."
Dave nodded and moved into the kitchen, off the dining area. He poured a cup of coffee and came back to the living room and sat down on the divan beside the woman. He felt good. She was alone and apparently vulnerable. He could take his time with her and really ball it up. The thought of having sex with her fired his passions and set his body aflame.
"I'm with Cross States Insurance," he said, sipping his coffee. "We sell all types of insurance, but the policy I have in mind for you covers all types of accidents and injuries, in addition to providing medical and hospital expenses."
The woman smiled. White teeth magnified full red lips. Gray eyes twinkled merrily.
"You mean, just because some guy raped me last night, I ought to take out insurance?" She threw back her head and laughed softly. "Chances are it'll never happen again, so why bother with insurance?"
Dave flicked his glance over her ample body.
"I'd say there was an excellent chance something like that may happen again."
The woman eyed him suspiciously, her laughter dying as suddenly as it had started.
"What do you mean by that crack?"
Dave reassured her with a smile.
"You're very beautiful. Any man would want you. Therefore you're a walking target for sex."
She smiled wanly and settled back on the couch.
"I like you," she said easily. "Go on. Maybe I will buy a policy."
"I can understand what must've come over that guy last night," Dave said, wetting his lips, feeling his way carefully. "You're very desirable. Easily the most desirable woman I've laid eyes on in a long time."
The woman blushed. Her lips pressed tightly together. She fixed him with a hard stare. Anger glinted in her gray eyes, "I think you came here just to see if you could get me to go to bed with you! Well, I won't! I hate sex! That creep last night really hurt me! He made me do things to him that sickened me!"
Dave saw his chance fleeing. He got to his feet, arms outstretched, pleading.
"Miss, I didn't mean.. . "
She leaped to her feet, anger written all over her pretty face.
"Get out!" she snapped. "Get the hell out of here, you little creep!"
A nerve beat a tattoo in his forehead. He doubled his fists, trying to ignore the sudden release of drop hammers pounding in his skull. The woman swayed before him, jabbing a stiff finger into his chest. He cursed, knowing he could not take any more.
"Get out, you creep! And don't ever come back! You remind me of that other thing last night!"
He snarled and brushed her finger away. Then he reached out with a free hand and grabbed hold of the flimsy material of her gown and yanked hard. The silk material gave, ripping down the front, exposing one creamy, full-blown breast to his hungry gaze. Passion fired his senses, as he moved in on the suddenly alert and alarmed woman. He wanted her. He was going to have her.
"Hold it right there, buster!"
Something metallic glinted in her right hand. The command in her voice was strong and sure. Dave blinked and stared down at the snub-nosed automatic pistol in her hand. The gun was steady. The look in her eyes told him better than words that she knew how to use it.
"Don't move, buster," she said crisply, as she moved sideways toward the phone on the table next to the couch and quickly dialed a number. She flashed a tight-lipped grin at him as she waited for an answer. "You're a sucker," she snapped. "Falling for the oldest police dodge in the world!"
Dave felt the blood drain from his face. The woman laughed harshly, mocking him. He shook his head, trying to relieve the pounding in his skull, but the drop hammers continued banging away. He gritted his teeth together and steeled himself against the pain. There was nothing he could do.
"Creeps like you" always fall for the old con game," the woman repeated, mocking him. "You read about your own victims in the newspapers and you get a sadistic kick out of it, but let you read about somebody you're supposed to have raped, and you can't stand it until you've managed to rape her too! You maniacs are all alike. You have to have your kicks!"
Dave stared at the business end of the gun. He knew he could not let this woman take him prisoner. He had to find a way out. Any way he could. Gun or no gun. Still, jumping her would be risky. She might blow a hole through him.
"I've got the rapist," the woman said crisply into the phone. "I'm holding him at gunpoint." She paused for a moment, listening to the speaker on the other end. Then she nodded and turned toward Dave again. "Take out your wallet and hand it here," she said, waving the gun menacingly at him. "The Chief wants to know your name."
Dave felt the breath whoosh out of his body. His right hand moved automatically to his rear pocket and withdrew his wallet. He knew he'd had it. Now the police would know his identity, and he would go to jail for years. Maybe he'd never get out again.
He handed his wallet toward the woman in an outstretched hand. She turned to take it from him. The gun angled down at his feet. He realized in that split second that this was his chance.
He dropped his wallet just as the fingers of her free hand came into contact with it. She tried instinctively to catch it, and he reached out and grabbed her gun hand and savagely twisted the gun out of her hand. She screamed once, then moved at him, clubbing him on the shoulder with the phone receiver. He ducked and slipped around behind her and grabbed the phone cord in both hands and wrapped it around her neck. She spun on one heel and reached for him again, as he pulled the ends of the phone cord tight against the soft flesh of her throat.
Voices raised in alarm shrieked out of the telephone, but Dave ignored them. The woman fought to relieve the pressure of the cord tightening about her neck. A gurgling sound escaped her throat, as he yanked hard on both ends. She swayed and went limp and crashed to the floor. He reached down to scoop up his wallet with one hand and spotted the snub-nosed police special on the rug. He grabbed it and spun toward the front door and left the apartment quickly and ran down the two flights of stairs to the street.
Police sirens split the night air, as he ducked into an alley and ran a block to a side street, crossed it, and continued running down another alley and still another, until the sound of the sirens was lost behind him. He slowed down to a jog and then a walk and reached the lot where his car was parked. He slumped behind the wheel and breathed hard and fought to silence the panic building within him. Then he started the Alpha and drove slowly home.
Perspiration bathed his face. His clothes stuck to him. Drop hammers beat wildly in his brain. Tonight "had been too close. The police woman had made a slight slip up, and he had escaped. Otherwise they would have him in jail, and he would be facing a stiff prison term. He had to stop attacking women. He had to vent all his lusts on his wife. There was no other way.
Lights were on in the house. He sighed deeply. Patsy was home. Maybe she would be receptive to him. He hoped so. His body was on fire. He needed a woman bad.
Any woman.
Even Patsy.. . .
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Patsy was in bed, wearing a nightie. The lights were on, and her face was made up. She flashed him a warm smile, as he burst into the room. His glance took in the large, oversize breasts poking out under the flimsy garment. Desire throbbed in his loins. Mechanically, his hands began peeling off his clothes, his eyes riveted to those twin, tantalizing mounds of pleasure.
"We can't tonight," she said, voice quivering, as though reading his mind. "I won't get the pills till next week."
Dave ignored her. He didn't care about the pills. He needed sex. Patsy was home. He wanted her. He intended to have her.
"Did you hear me, honey?"
He grunted and stripped to the buff. Then he turned out the light and moved onto the bed, his body burning with fever.
"I mean it, Dave," she said, stirring beneath the sheet.
He growled and yanked the bed cover away from her. Then his hands filled with her breasts through the flimsy garment, and she began pushing at his hands, struggling beneath him.
"Please, honey.. . "
He ignored her cries and put his hands on her fleshy thighs and yanked hard. Patsy slid down on her back, abruptly, the nightie riding up around her waist. Dave spread her thighs forcibly and slid her legs over his shoulders. Then he gripped her buttocks and rammed into her warm, musky-ordored body. She cried out once, as he pierced her vagina, but then she settled back to give into his eagerness.
"I do like it with you, honey," she said. "But I don't want to get pregnant again. Not yet."
He kissed her with lips and tongue and felt an answering stab of her pink tongue in his mouth. Her arms moved lazily across his back, and her hips began couching his thrusts and moving in time with him. He held her off the bed and rammed deep into the warm confines of her body and gloried in the lust and pleasure awaiting him there.
"I love you, Dave."
He mumbled answering words of love and passion, but he knew in his heart he didn't mean it. Sex was king with him. Sex with a woman. Any woman would do. Whenever he felt the burning need rising in him, any woman could put out the fire. Love was something for other people, normal people without steel plates in their heads and a background of looney psycho wards. Love was not for him. Patsy could love him all she wanted to, but he could not love her. He could only make love to her and to all of the other women he saw and wanted and had to have.
Patsy's thighs closed in against his neck.
"Now!" she yelled. "Now.. . "
Dave gripped her buttocks and increased his thrusting drives into the warm wellspring of her body and felt muscles clench him and squeeze him in a series of exotic spasms. He held his breath as an explosion wracked his body, and then he sank down on top of his wife, suddenly grateful for the release from his prison of torture.
Patsy fixed him a big breakfast of waffles and strawberries the next morning. She had dressed and fixed her hair, and her face was clean. Dave marveled at the change in her. Three days away from him had made a new woman out of her.
The newspaper was sitting beside his plate. Dave gulped down a shot of hot coffee and then spread open the front page.
Black headlines swam in his vision. He gulped, and shock hit him like a wave of earth tremors. He felt his body grow stone cold. He shot Patsy a quick look, but she was busy at the sink, her back to him. He focused his eyes back on the headlines and read slowly.
"Police Woman Strangled By Phone Cord In Trap For Rapist."
Dave gulped and felt his hands tremble. Now he'd really done it. Killed a police woman! Good lord!
He read the swimming text slowly and carefully. The police woman had baited a trap for the rapist and lured him into her apartment and held a gun on him while phoning her superiors. The rapist had jumped her and strangled her with the phone cord, while she was talking on the phone. The woman's gun was missing. The identity of the rapist-murderer was still unknown.
Dave read the article again. There was nothing to connect him to the killing. The woman's gun was locked safely in his glove compartment. He would have to get rid of it, because it could link him to the murder.
He managed to stuff the waffles down his throat, but it was all he could do to keep from gagging. The food tasted dry, and his stomach jumped like he had a family of ulcers living there. The coffee washed down the waffles but left him feeling nauseated. Patsy tried to force more food on him, but he begged off and got to his feet and kissed her goodbye and then moved like a sleepwalker to his car.
He drove aimlessly around all morning, listening to the news on the radio. The police were checking fingerprints found in the apartment. Dave sucked in his breath. They could trace those prints to his Army records and identify him. They would know his name by tonight! Maybe sooner!
Panic seized him. He had to run. He had to go home and pack a bag and take off. The cops would know his name within hours. They would pick him up and haul him off to prison. He would get the gas chamber. Murder one. There was no beating it. They would fry him for killing a police woman!
He tried to reason it out and calm down, but the more he thought about it, the more he knew he had to go on the run. The cops had his prints. They could identify him. They would be coming for him. He had to run. But where? Where could he go? He didn't have any money. He couldn't borrow any. Sure, he could just see himself going to a finance company and borrowing money to run away on. Boy, wouldn't that be something?
There was nothing he could do. He couldn't run, because he didn't have any money. He had to sit tight and sweat it out. Maybe the prints weren't legible. He had drank a cup of coffee, but he had continually rotated the cup in his hands, smearing any fingerprints that might have been left on the cup.
He breathed deeply. Sure. That was it. The prints would not be legible. They could never identify him from blurred prints. He had nothing to worry about.
But what if the cops did narrow the suspects down to him?
He opened the glove compartment and looked down at the shiny snub-nosed police special. He had a gun. He would just have to use it. Stick up a liquor store or rob a market. There were ways. He would keep the weapon, just in case he had need of it later.
He called his office and then quickly made the rounds of his markets before calling it a day and going home. He drove slowly, being careful not to break traffic laws. And he drove by his house once to check for any sign of police cars, before turning around and parking in his driveway. He shut off the motor and sat there for a long minute, before steeling himself to get out and enter the house quietly.
The front room was empty, and he grew braver as he moved through the dining area and into the kitchen. Patsy was bent over the sink, doing the morning dishes. The dress she wore hung on her like a shapeless sack. Her hair was disheveled. Dave cursed silently. She was back to being her fat, sloppy self again.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Dave jumped every time he heard a police siren. He paced the floors restlessly that night. Patsy asked him what was bothering him, but he ignored her. How could he ever tell his wife he was a murderer? He grimly gritted his teeth and continued prowling around the house the rest of the night.
He felt haggard the next morning, but half an hour under a hot shower helped revive him. He dressed and shaved, ate a light breakfast and went to work. The food floated in his stomach. He felt weak and nauseated. Thoughts of the police woman dying at his hands made him gag repeatedly. Murder was an unpleasant business, and he was a murderer.
A police car cruised slowly by him in his Alpha, the uniformed cops giving him a close once-over. Dave forced himself to remain calm, ignoring them, pretending they weren't there. The cops speeded up and passed him. He heaved a big sigh of relief and went about his business.
The second was worse. Three times he discovered plain-clothes detectives moving about the supermarkets he serviced. Every time he spotted a cop, his heart beat wildly in his chest. His cheeks flushed, and it was all he could do to keep working, rearranging displays and stocking shelves. He was sure the police were watching him. He knew in his heart that he was a suspect. He had to be careful.
Busty women swept by him in agonizing waves in store after store, but the need for lust was secondary to the fear of the law closing down on him. He didn't want a woman now. He had more important things to worry about. like murder.
Three days went by. Dave began to breathe easier. The newspapers reported the police had no positive clue to the identity of the rapist-murderer. The only prints found at the scene of the crime had been blurred and un-distinguishable. A check through FBI files had proven fruitless.
He slept like a log on the fourth night. Patsy had seemed concerned about his discomfort, and she had asked him if he was in any danger of losing his job. He had felt like laughing at that, but instead he had pretended his job really was in jeopardy, and Patsy had curled up next to him and cuddled with him part of the night. Desire had kindled into a tiny flame in his loins, but for once he was content to just hold his wife close to him without attempting to make love to her. The fear of the police was still too strong within him.
A week went by. A week without sex. A week of fear and worry. Then the reports in the newspapers dwindled. There were no new clues. The police were at a dead end. The rapist-killer was still roaming free.
Dave felt good again. He laughed easily and made his rounds of stores in a cheerful mood. The danger period was over. He had gotten away with murder. It had been easy.
Still, he was smart enough to know he could not attempt rape again. He knew the way the cops worked. They would be lying back in waiting, ready to pounce on him if he ever tried again. And the women in L.A. were shook up about the murder. They would be wary of all strangers. Chances were that he would not be able to get close enough to a woman to rape her.
He took off work early on Friday. The day was hot and sultry, and he drove down to the beach and parked and got out of his car to stretch his legs. There was a sea breeze blowing in from the ocean. He felt the cool wind whip through his clothing and refresh his body. He stretched, grinning, feeling good again. He was safe and free again. He could remain that way so long as he could keep his hands off other women. And Patsy would have to give him all the loving he required. She was worried about him losing his job, and that would make her more receptive to his overtures. He chuckled. The thought that Patsy could really want loving really warmed him. She would have the pills in another day or two. The doctor had said she had to wait until a certain time a month to begin using them. Well, he could wait.
The wind carried the sounds of a woman laughing in merriment from the beach below. Dave turned and looked down the beach, sweeping the sand dunes with practiced eyes. Then he saw them.
A blonde with long, shining hair, shoulder length, and wearing a two-piece, red polka-dot bikini bathing suit was being chased by a tanned young man in a pair of tight trunks. The girl stumbled and fell into the sand, and the man laughed and sprang on top of her. The girl turned to meet him, arms and legs kicking. They rolled in the sand together, over and over. The top of her bikini popped off and two lush, tanned, full-bodied breasts sprang into view.
Dave sucked in his breath and felt a jolt of passion shoot through him. He steeled himself, as the young man's hands eagerly fondled the girl's breasts. The blonde writhed beneath him on the sand, obviously enjoying her lover's caresses.
"Don't get any ideas," Dave heard her tell the laughing man.
The man continued massaging the girl's breasts. She began to moan and writhe in the sand under him. Her legs parted, revealing golden thighs that slid around the man's narrow waist. Her hands moved to his trunks, gripping his bulging manhood through the material of his trunks.
It was too much for Dave to watch. He cursed and felt his own passions enflame. He looked quickly around him, but nobody was in sight. He knew he should leave the young couple alone, but the thought of another man enjoying the lush, full-bodied blonde was more than he could take. He had to have her. He couldn't help himself.
He moved quickly to his car and opened the locked glove compartment and withdrew the shiny snub-nosed police special. He gripped the revolver in his right hand and then stole quietly down to the beach, staying behind cover, sneaking up close to the wrestling couple in the sheltered sand dune.
The man had his trunks off and the girl was naked with him. They were wrapped together, kissing and hugging, their bodies moving in unison. They never saw Dave moving up behind them.
Dave bent over, swinging the gun arm, feeling the satisfaction, as the steel barrel connected with the young man's scalp. There was a dull, plopping sound as the gun connected with the man's head, and he went limp on top of the blonde and did not move. Dave nudged one foot under him and rolled him off the girl. The blonde opened her blue eyes wide and saw Dave and let out a piercing, ear-shattering scream.
Dave pounced on top of her, swinging the gun again, connecting on one shoulder, as the girl rolled over. She screamed again, a loud piercing scream that reverberated up and down the beach. Then Dave had her by the hair, swinging the barrel of the gun across her forehead, shutting off her cries. Then he zipped open his pants and fell on top of her body and quickly forced entrance. He held the gun at her head, as he labored for the sudden bursting need for fulfillment. He heard the sound of voices far away, as he hurried to reach a climax and escape before he was caught.
A police siren split the air and wailed closer by the second. Dave hung on grimly, needing this girl, needing the use of her body to trigger his passion. It was no good. She was cold and unyielding, and he cursed and came up on his feet and moved toward his car.
A car screeched to a halt, tires digging into hard asphalt, the brakes squealing in protest. A car door slammed, and then two uniformed policemen loomed above him on the road. One of the officers spotted him and yelled. Dave looked up, seeing the gun rise in the officer's hand.
"Hold it right there!" the cracking voice of law enforcement rang out, as the police--. man sighted down his revolver.
Dave cursed and snapped off a shot, the crack of the revolver loud in the stillness. The officer spun and fell from sight. Dave pounded up the hill toward the road.
The second uniformed officer ducked behind the squad car, firing his gun, as Dave moved into view. Dave dropped to the ground, sweat soaking his body, his heart pounding loud. He returned the cop's fire, noting his car was hopelessly beyond the squad car. He knew with a dread, sinking feeling that he could not escape. His car would identify him, and he would be caught, even if he escaped on foot. He had no choice except to kill the second policeman.
A second police siren wailed in the distance closing in on him fast. Dave began backing down the hill to the beach, firing wildly in order to keep the second policeman pinned down. He stumbled on the beach, almost falling over the unconscious blonde and her boy friend, then breaking into a run down the beach, zigzagging as he ran in the way the Army had taught him, bent over low, making as small a target as possible. Sand kicked up around him as he ran. Shots rang out, the sounds echoing in his eardrums, giving him speed to flee the scene.
He looked back over his shoulder once, as he moved into a rocky area. Two squad cars had joined the first one. Uniformed policemen were running down the beach after him. Others calmly firing at him from the roadside. Bullets kicked sand up around his heels.
Panic seized him. His heart beat loudly in his chest. The drop hammers gonged in his head. Visions of the gas chamber filled his mind. He ran on. He had to get away. He could not be captured. The police knew his name by now. He could not go home again. He had to make his way out of the country-to Mexico and escape. He had to stay free. He couldn't die. He had too much living and loving to do.
Somehow, he managed to elude the police. Darkness fell and enveloped him. He hid in the rocks, halfway up a sheer cliff, as police searching parties combed the beach below him and the road above him. Near dawn he heard the voices of the police mingling and knew they were giving up the search. They were positive he had escaped. He hugged the quarry of rocks sheltering him and fell asleep.
It was light when he awoke. He peeked out over his cover of rocks. The morning fog circled him completely, cutting off his vision of the pounding surf below. He stood up stiffly and made his way cautiously into the mist and picked his way down to the beach, without incident. Then he removed his shoes and tied them around his neck and rolled up his pants legs and waded into the ocean and then followed the curving coastline for more than an hour before heading back to the road, where he put on his shoes and socks. Then he headed into the hilly mountainous country north and east of the ocean.
His reckoning told him he was somewhere in the Malibu area, and with luck he figured he could hole up in the mountains for a few days. There were cabins up here, and maybe he could find food and shelter and a change of clothing, without anybody spotting him. Whatever he did, he had to be careful. He could not take any chances now. His life was at stake.
He stuck to the forests, giving all cabins and buildings a wide detour. Twice he almost stumbled into kids playing, but he managed to sneak by them without being seen. By nightfall he was cold and hungry and high in the mountains. He breathed a deep sigh of relief. He was safe for the moment.
A cabin loomed ahead, out of the moonlit darkness. He stopped and gave it a close onceover. It looked deserted. Still, it was hard to tell. He would have to circle it and case it and make sure it was unoccupied, before moving in on it.
He squatted down and lit a cigarette and smoked thoughtfully, shielding the cigarette in a cupped hand, as he studied the dark, apparently deserted cabin. It would not do to move too quickly.
He had time.
The rest of his life.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
It was two hours before he completed his circle and decided the cabin was empty. He waited for the moon to hide behind a dark cloud, and then he moved quickly to the front door of the cabin and flattened himself against the side wall. He listened for several minutes, his breathing the only sound, then slowly reached out and unlatched the door and pushed it open.
The door swung inward, silently, and Dave slipped inside the cabin and closed the door carefully behind him, latching it. He hugged the door, waiting for his eyes to grow accustomed to the darkness. He studied the large room he was in, until he could make out and identify the shapes of a stove, table, chairs and couch in the room. Two doors led off the main room to other rooms. He waited until he was sure the other rooms were empty, and then he tiptoed across the floor, gun in hand, and peeked into each room.
The first room was a bedroom, complete with double bed and chest of drawers. The bed was made up with pillow, sheets and blankets, and a comforter. A closet door stood partially open. Clothes hung in the closet. Dave breathed a deep sigh of relief and moved into the connecting bathroom and found it fully equipped with running hot and cold water and a shower stall.
He moved back to the main room and then checked the second door to find a second bedroom, also with a double bed and chest of drawers. This room looked lived in. The bed covers were mussed up. Clothing was scattered about the room. He struck a match, and the light illuminated women's undergarments strewn about. A chest of drawers stood partly open, and a pair of nylon hose draped half in and half out of the drawer. He reached down and wadded up one of the stockings and shoved it into his pants pocket.
He moved back to the main room and struck another match and found a cupboard over the stove filled with canned goods. He was ravenous from not having eaten for more than twenty-four hours, and the thought of hot food and a full stomach made him forget his caution. He quickly opened two large cans of pork and beans, dumping the contents into a pan, which he placed on the stove. He lit a fire under the food and then dug out a plate and fork and wolfed it down quickly.
The food filled the hunger void, and he lit a cigarette and drank the hot coffee slowly, as he lounged at the wooden table in the center of the main room. He felt good. The food had curbed his appetite and now a drowsiness was setting in. He knew he needed sleep. A hunted man had to have food and sleep. The cabin looked like a good spot. He could use the spare room, even if a woman was sleeping in the other room. It was the week end and there was a possibility the woman would return to the cabin. He did not want to be surprised and captured.
He got up and cleaned the dishes and put them away and checked to make sure he had left no signs of occupancy in the cabin. Then he moved into the spare bedroom and closed and secured the door by moving the chest of drawers over to block the entrance. Nobody could open it now and surprise him. He turned and fell onto the bed and immediately dropped into a deep sleep.
Low voices were conversing in the main room. A man's voice and a woman's. Low, intimate tones. Dave shook his head and blinked his eyes. For a moment he was not sure of his whereabouts. Then he remembered the cabin.
He rose quietly on his elbows and listened to the voices coming from the other room. A shaft of light pierced through the crack in the doorway. Dave sat up in bed and leaned forward, intent on every word in the conversation.
A door slammed shut. Dave almost jumped out of bed. Then he relaxed, as he heard the roar of a car motor and the sound of a car moving away. Footsteps sounded in the other room. Hollow, tapping sounds. The kind a woman wearing high heels makes. Dave smiled at the prospect of being alone in a cabin with a strange woman.
He listened to the sounds of her moving about and realized the sounds were coming from the next bedroom. He waited until he heard the squeak of bedsprings and knew she was in bed. He dug cigarettes and matches out of his shirt pocket and lit one and smoked thoughtfully for a long time.
I wonder how old she is, he thought musingly. Is she pretty? Well built? Busty? Does she enjoy sex?
Desire burst to life in his loins and heat seared his flesh. He groaned and smashed the cigarette out under his foot. He knew what he was going to do. It was as though he had been heading for this moment all his life.
He got up and shucked off his shirt and then stepped out of his pants and shorts. He removed his shoes and socks and folded his clothing on the bed and then picked up the snub-nosed revolver and moved to the door. Passion jarred to life in his smoldering loins with each step. He hissed through his teeth, knowing he was about to rape another victim.
The door wouldn't budge. He cursed and tried again. Then he remembered he had moved the chest against it to block the entrance. He laid the gun down on top of the chest and gingerly eased the dresser to one side, without making a sound. Then he opened the door, picked up his gun, and tiptoed across the main room to check the outside door. It was latched securely. He breathed deeply. Nobody would be bothering them tonight. The woman was all his, no matter who or what she turned out to be.
He turned back tward the woman's bedroom and listened to the deep sound of snoring coming from within. He wrinkled his nose in disgust and pictured an old, wrinkled woman with a shriveled-up body. Still, the need bursting within could not be ignored. Old or young, the woman would serve to satisfy his needs.
He moved to the doorway and eased it open, the gun pointing at the sleeping body of the woman in bed.
She was naked and on her back. He stood and studied her high-arched, jutting breasts and the lush hips and tapering thighs of her well-shaped body, and smiled in satisfaction. The woman was young, in her early thirties, maybe, and well built. She had the kind of body he had always wished Patsy had. Streamlined. Plenty of padding but just enough and in the right places.
He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.
The woman did not stir, as he put one knee on the corner of the mattress and eased onto the bed. She continued to snore, as he gently lowered his body on top of hers. Then he rammed into her in one quick, urgent movement and felt her jar awake beneath him. He pressed the cold steel of the gun barrel against the side of her head and waited for her to make a sound.
"Rob," the woman moaned in a sleepy voice. "You've come back."
"It's not Rob," he said, pistoning his hips against hers to let her know what he wanted. "And I've got a gun at your head. We're going to make love. You and me, sweetheart. Any sound out of you, and I'll blow your head wide open!"
The woman gasped but remained quiet. Her body shook under him, as he pistoned frantically against her loins. His free hand moved down to caress and pinch one breast. Her flesh was soft and smooth and yielding. He had the feeling they would get to know each other quite well before morning.
"What's your name?" he asked, as he labored against her body.
"Rose," the woman said in a trembling voice. "Who are you?"
He chuckled easily.
"The L.A. rapist. I've killed two people and raped a dozen women. Now I'm raping you. Be good and I won't kill you."
Something in his matter-of-fact tone of voice must have scared her. Her hips began moving under him, couching his thrusts, timing their movements. Hands whispered across his naked buttocks and up his back. Full lips searched for and found his. The pink edge of her tongue invaded his mouth, stabbing his tongue. Her body grew warm.
"I'll love you, honey," she whispered in his ear. "I never get enough loving."
He pistoned frantically against her moving body and felt her muscles squeezing and stroking his manhood. Passion burst loose in a blinding storm of lust arid desire, and he sank gratefully down on top of her. She held him to her body as though he were a baby.
"Rest now, lover," she crooned in one ear. "We'll have an encore in a little while."
He closed his eyes and fought sleep. His body was tired. Now he wanted to just fall asleep and sleep, until he felt young and strong again. He wanted to forget the awful hours of the chase and the knowledge that he was a hunted man.
He dozed off, the gun clenched tightly in his right hand and pointed at the woman's head. Sometime during his fitful sleep he felt another hand carefully trying to disengage the gun from his grasp. He came to abruptly, slamming the gun hard against her face. She screamed shrilly as bones crunched in her nose, and then he was beating her savagely with the gun barrel, crashing through her protective arms to her face and breasts, slashing her wickedly, drawing blood, turning her into a screaming hulk of flesh and bone. Then, mercifully, he hit her across the temple, and she lost consciousness and lay still.
His breathing was harsh and ragged for several minutes. He lay still on the bed beside her and listened for any signs telling him her screams had been heard. Then, satisfied they were really alone in the mountains, he moved to the bathroom for a washcloth, towel, hot water in a basin and some medicine. Then he retuned to the room. He lit a lamp and surveyed the damage he had caused.
She was a pretty woman with high cheekbones and soft, black wavy hair framing the planes of her face. Her nose had a hook in the center and blood covered her chin and neck and trickled down between her breasts. He cleaned her with the washcloth, washing the blood from her body. She did not move. He finished and studied her critically and decided she looked considerably better. He patted her dry with a towel and then set about administering to her cuts and bruises.
He got up and found the silk nylons in the chest of drawers and removed four hose and then tied her wrists and ankles securely and attached the other ends to the four bedposts. Then, satisfied she could not escape, he laid his gun on a nearby table, turned off the light, and flopped beside her and fell into a deep sleep.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Dave kept the woman prisoner for two days and nights, tied to her own bed. He moved restlessly about the cabin, naked, moving into the bedroom to sate his lusts on the lush body of the captive woman who could not help feeling desire for him, despite her revulsion. He mocked her and laughed at her and delighted in caressing her breasts and loins, until her skin was hot and her body on fire, and then he would take her savagely and revel in her cries of passion, as they reached a shattering climax together.
There was a television set in the main room and Dave kept it on all day long. The newscasts were full of his picture, description, and the news that the Los Angeles rapist was still at large. Already the authorities were tying in his previous psycho ward experiences with his present escapades. They called him "sick." Dave growled in hot anger and doubled his fists and glared at the small television screen.
Patsy appeared on a newscast late the second night. She was all prettied up with makeup carefully applied and every strand of hair in place. She wore a lavender dress that showcased her firm jutting breasts, and she looked sexy as hell. Dave felt a nerve tattoo a beat in his forehead, as he stared at her on the screen.
Why didn't she ever make up that way for me? he wondered to himself, as the anger festered in his mind. Already the tiny sound of drop hammers were beginning to pound in his skull. He put his hands to his head and tried to ignore the telltale warnings, but he knew there was no stopping them. His little yellow pills were home in the medicine cabinet. And there was a police guard about his house. He could never get to them.
"Dave honey," Patsy's voice flowed out of the television set like sweet milk honey. "Give yourself up, honey. The authorities want to help you. They know about the six months you spent in an Army hospital psycho ward. They'll help you get over your psychotic state. They know you're really not responsible for raping and murdering those women. They know you black out and aren't responsible for the acts you've committed. They know you're not sane."
Dave snarled in rage and bolted out of his chair. He picked up a cup off the table before him and hurled it at the TV set. The picture window cracked and electricity sparked, and then the screen disintegrated and smoke and fire poured out of the set. Dave moved toward it, snarling angrily, fists clenched, as he watched the sparks smolder and die. The set went off like a broken record, and Dave angrily moved to the wall and pulled the plug. The nerve of the bitch! he thought angrily. My own wife.
He kicked at the smoking box, knocking it off its stand, sending it crashing to the floor. He heard Rose calling out from the bedroom, in alarm, but he ignored her. The drop hammers were beating loudly in his head. He had to quiet them. Still, he knew that without his pills the sounds would only grow worse, until he blacked out from the pain.
He moved about the room, knocking over chairs, upsetting shelves of canned goods, kicking the cans about, as his anger exploded. Rose was quiet now and he was glad. He did not want to vent his anger on her. He might kill her, and he did not want to do that.
He overturned the table and then staggered toward the bedroom, but his knees buckled and he fell to the floor. The drums were pounding loud in his skull. He curled up in a fetal position and poked fingers into his ears and clenched his teeth together and squeezed his eyes shut and rocked and moaned, as the drop hammers pierced his skull, echoing throughout his head with agonizing repercussions.
Then blackness swelled in over him, and he gave into it gratefully. After that he knew nothing.
He awoke, blinking his eyes. Sunlight streamed in through the windows. He shook his head carefully, grateful that the pain was gone. He sat up and looked around him at the mess he had created and slowly pulled himself to his feet.
A board squeaked near the door and he spun, suddenly alert. Rose was trying to unlatch the door. She was dressed and fleeing the scene. He cursed and moved toward her, quickly. She yelled in fright, as she spun toward him, his police special gripped in her right hand.
He bolted into her, sweeping the gun hand aside with one arm and belting her hard to the jaw with a left cross. The gun went off, the bullet searing his hip as it passed. Rose crumpled to the floor and lay still.
The wound stung like hell. Dave cursed and examined himself carefully. The bullet had plowed a furrow across his hip bone, barely breaking the skin. It was painful but nothing to worry about. He turned his attention to the woman lying in a heap on the floor at his feet.
Anger consumed him. She had escaped her bonds, dressed and stolen his gun, and tried to make her way free. She would have killed him if her aim had been truer. She was an enemy, not to be trusted. He could no longer afford to take chances with her. She had to die.
He removed her high-heeled shoes and nylon stockings, caressing the full calfs and upper thighs, as he worked. Then he knotted the two stockings together and made a noose at one end, which he slipped about her neck. Rose groaned but did not regain consciousness.
He picked her up in his arms and carried her to the center of the main room. He laid her down on the floor and then set the table upright and found a chair to stand on. He picked Rose up in his arms again and stepped onto the chair and then onto the table. He laid her down on the table top and reached up and touched the ceiling beam above. He grinned and then stripped off his own clothing until he was naked. Then he removed her garments, until she was naked, except for the nylon noose about her neck.
Desire burst to life in his loins, and he was instantly ready for love, as he draped her naked body over his shoulder and tied the loose end of the stocking around the beam, securing it.
He slapped her face until she jarred awake, and then he held her in his arms upright, being careful to retain slack in the stocking knotted about her throat. She moaned softly but came alive, as he penetrated her passion center and began undulating his hips against hers in short, powerful thrusts. Her legs moved about his hips and her arms circled his neck. Their lips met, and he kissed her passionately, bruisingly on her puffed lips. Their tongues played tag, and then he suckled on the succulent tip of her pink tongue and chewed on her lower lip.
Her nails raked up and down his bare back, drawing blood. Dave delighted in the stinging sensation, reveling in the thrill of her body moving down on him, enveloping him within the warm muskiness of her body, muscles clamping him, holding him, letting him go briefly, only to clamp down against him again.
"I love it! Love it!" she cried out in a fit of passion, as the moment of climax neared.
He kissed her with tongue and lips, holding her buttocks with his hands, digging his nails into the soft skin. Then he felt her body tense, and she gripped him with spasmodic muscles out of control, and he felt the sudden hot searing of heat and flesh and felt his own body trigger his passion into her.
He waited until she opened her eyes and looked into his at that moment of shattering ecstasy, and then he grinned at her and let her drop in his arms. The nylon cord tightened about her throat instantly, and he watched the incredible surprise flash in her eyes at the very moment she died. Then her head lolled to one side, and she was still, except for the spasmodic muscular reaction in the warm wellspring of her body.
He moved away from her, letting her dangle, her toes barely scraping the table top. He got down to the floor and moved to the bedroom and found his clothes and put them on. Then he took time to open some tins of food and eat a hot meal and wash it down with hot coffee.
He moved back to the bedroom and rummaged through the chest of drawers in her room. Nothing but odds and ends of clothing. He cursed and searched for her purse and finally found it stuck under the mattress. He pulled it out and dumped the contents onto the rumpled, blood-stained mattress and sucked in his breath as a large roll of bills tumbled free. He dropped the purse and quickly counted the money and discovered over a thousand dollars in cash!
He grinned as he shoved the roll of bills into his pants pocket. He had enough money to reach Mexico and escape capture by the police. A grand would see him safely to obscurity in another country. Maybe he could work his way down to Brazil, by freighter. Then he could really be safe from the law. Brazil had no type of extradition with the U.S.A. He could be free as a bird in Rio. And those Latin women down there! He smacked his lips as thoughts of the olive-skinned, voluptuous female creatures swayed vividly in his mind.
He searched through the odds and ends that women carry in their purses and came up with a set of car keys. For a wild second he had to hold his breath, as he contemplated the fact the woman had a car stashed nearby. He hadn't seen one around the cabin area, but it was possible she had parked the car down the road. The terrain surrounding the cabin was rough and hard on cars. It would be natural for her to leave her car near the highway below the camp site.
He found his gun and shoved it into his back pocket. Then he took the car keys and left the cabin, securing the door behind him. He did not want the woman's body found for a couple of days. That way he could leave the country and be well on his way to Brazil before anybody found her body. The cops would figure out he was her killer, and that he had stolen her money and her car.
Dusk was closing in, as he walked down the rutted lane to the main road below. He stopped and looked about, but the road was clear as far as he could see. Then he saw the car. A year-old Riviera parked off the road, dusty from disuse. He grinned and broke into a run. The car keys were GM, so the Riviera figured to be Rose's car.
He opened the door and slid behind the wheel and found that the key fit the ignition. He turned over the motor and revved it up for several minutes. Then he turned on the headlights and pulled the car onto the road and drove safely down the mountain.
The radio was on and he listened to the swing music. The thought of dancing with the Latin girls every night in Rio filled his mind. He smiled easily. He was going to like it in Rio.
A newscaster interrupted the music. Dave scowled and turned the station selector. Patsy's voice suddenly blared forth into the car, then was lost as music filled the speaker. Dave cursed and turned the knob back, until he had Patsy's voice zeroed in.
"-would you repeat that last statement, Mrs. Gourmley?" the low voice of the male announcer intoned.
"Yes," Patsy said in a clipped tone. "My husband is crazy! He never really got over those six months in the psycho ward! He raped nurses there! He's been raping women ever since! I should have turned him back to the loony bin a year ago! He's really crazy! He's.. . "
Dave snapped off the radio, anger consuming him in a blind rage.
The bitch! My own wife! Turning against me! Telling the entire world I'm crazy! I'll kill her for that! I'll kill her!
Drop hammers began pounding in his skull, lightly at first, then increasing in intensity. He thought about returning to the cabin, but the dangling corpse was enough to quench that idea. He might black out again and be caught there with the evidence of his crime. The guy Rose had been with that first night just might come back.
He shook his head. Too risky. He had to hope he could hold off his next attack long enough to get home and recover his pills. Maybe he would put his hands around his no-good wife's fat throat and squeeze the life out of her fat, stupid body while he was at it!
His foot pressed down on the accelerator. The Riviera picked up speed, smoothly. Dave gritted his teeth and tried not to think about anything at all.
"I'll get you, Patsy!" he mumbled to himself. "I'll fix your wagon for good! Rose went out easy compared to the way you're going to go!"
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
His skull was bursting with ringing drop hammers as he drove into his old neighborhood. It was a dark night, and he gritted his teeth and fought against the reverberating sounds in his head. He thought only of Patsy and what he was going to do to her. After that it didn't matter. Killing Patsy was all he lived for. Squeezing the life out of her by degrees, getting even with her for all those wrong things she had said about him.
"I'm not crazy!" he told himself over and over again. "I'm not crazy! I'm sane!"
There was a dark car parked across the street from his house. A second car was parked down the street. Plain-clothes detectives, he thought, as he drove by at the normal speed limit. He laughed to himself. Dumb, stupid cops! They weren't looking for him in a Riviera. They had him pegged as a guy who drove foreign cars. They wouldn't take a second look at the Riviera.
He drove three blocks past his home before turning a corner, and then he cruised two blocks before locating a quiet residential street where he parked the car. He got out and moved down the street to an alley and then crept slowly toward his house, moving cautiously and quietly.
The alley meandered down behind his house, and he moved slowly, listening for sounds other than the ringing in his head and the comfortable feel of the automatic pistol in his hand, reassuring. He moved right up to his back yard fence and then stood against the back of his garage, his ear tuned for any sounds from within. There were none. The house was dark and quiet. He could even hear the faint sounds of Patsy snoring from their bedroom.
He vaulted over the fence and dropped to the grass on all fours and waited for the sound of movement that would indicate he had been seen. Then, satisfied nobody had spotted him, he moved quickly to the back of the house and reached for the screen door.
The door was hooked. He cursed silently and poked a hole in the screen with the gun barrel and then reached through and unhooked the door. He slipped onto the back porch and up against the back wall of his house, again listening intently. Then he slowly turned the door handle and found the door opening easily to his touch. He slipped inside, gun raised in his right hand, sweeping the width and length of the kitchen. Nothing was out of order.
He closed the back door carefully and then moved on tiptoe toward the dining room. As he reached the open kitchen doorway, he saw a shadow near the windows in the living room area. He tensed and held his gun steady, but the shadow did not move.
Dave reached down and slipped off his shoes and socks without noise and tiptoed barefooted toward the shadow, his eyes trained on the object. As he closed in, he noted it was a man in a plain suit, apparently sleeping. He grinned and stepped forward and chopped down with the barrel of the gun against the man's head.
The man toppled forward into his arms, the sound like the squashing of a pumpkin. Dave caught the dead weight and eased it to a prone position on the couch. He searched the man's pockets and drug out a pair of handcuffs and cuffed the man's hands together behind his back. Then he took out the man's handkerchief and used it to gag him. Next he removed the cops shoe laces, tied them together and bound his ankles securely, so he could not move.
He palmed his gun and quietly searched the remainder of the house but found it empty. He began to breathe easier. The two cars outside and the man in the house made up the total police guard. Patsy was sleeping in their bedroom, alone and unsuspecting. He chuckled, as he thought of the surprise he was going to give her.
He moved into the bedroom silently and saw her huge bulk filling the center of the bed. She was on her back, arms and legs outstretched, snoring away. The nightie was pulled up around her stomach in a twisted fashion, as though she had moved restlessly before falling asleep. Her loins were exposed, and Dave felt a hot flash of passion rise as he stared at the inviting creamy thighs mantled in the pale moonlight seeping into the room.
He ripped off his clothing quickly and then moved toward her, after taking the silk nylon stocking out of his pants pocket. He mounted her easily without awakening her and then gagged her with the stocking. She came awake, and her eyes filled wide with terror, as she saw his naked form hovering over her. She tried to move her arms, but his knees pinned them to the mattress. He laughed softly, as he watched her squirm beneath him.
He tied her arms to the bedposts with strips of her nightie, after ripping if off her body, exposing full, thrusting breasts to his hungry gaze. Then he toyed with her breasts, caressing and squeezing them, pinching and biting them, until he had her squirming under him in a fit of sudden wild passion. He laughed and calmly lit a cigarette and took three deep drags on it. Patsy watched him fearfully as he smoked. Then he moved the lighted end of the cigarette to one nipple and deliberately burned her. She jumped in pain and shock, and he chuckled merrily. He repeated the action with her other nipple getting the same results.
Patsy began squirming and kicking beneath him, in an effort to roll him off, but he rode her out and felt his passion growing, as she fought wildly against him. He finished his cigarette and ground it out on her navel. Again she lifted him off the bed, and her body jerked with the pain and intensity of the burn. He laughed softly, deep in his throat, and took delight in torturing his wife.
"Crazy, am I?" he said, mocking her. "I'm going to show you how crazy I really am, baby."
He spread her thighs and hooked her legs over his shoulders and rammed into her body. She writhed under him, as he drove deep into the warm wellspring of her flesh, penetrating her farther than he ever had before. He felt her muscles clench and protest against the unwanted force driving between them, but he raised her higher and moved his knees under the small of her back and doubled her over, as he continued to forge deep into the lushness of her body. She tried to free her body from his unwanted weight, but he held her easily and pistoned deep within her.
He let her body drop back on the sheet, and he reveled in the hot touch of her skin. She was on fire now, her body ready to receive him again. He laughed and lit another cigarette and puffed it to life. The glow of the cigarette revealed the fear in her eyes. He chuckled and toyed with her breasts again, twisting them cruelly in his hands, jabbing the hot point of the cigarette close to her nipples, watching her pull away in fear.
"I'm going to send you to hell, baby," he said. "I'm going to put a fire in your body like you've never known before." he chuckled insanely. "A real fire, baby. A real, live fire." '
She drew her legs together instinctively, knowing what he had in mind. He laughed easily and pried her thighs apart with effort. Patsy bucked and twisted under him, desperate to stop him from carrying out his threat. He laughed and moved forward on his knees, between her thighs. Then he took the cigarette out of his mouth and singed the hair around her vagina. She bucked and kicked like a trapped animal. He threw back his head and laughed loudly.
Patsy bit through the gag.
"Please, honey," she begged in a whining voice.
He cursed her and put the cigarette between the lips of her vagina. He felt the flesh burning and smelled the odor and threw back his head and laughed insanely.
Patsy screamed. A loud, piercing, ear-shattering scream. A scream that echoed throughout the house and out into the quiet night.
Dave cursed her and slammed one balled fist against her jaw. She went limp and her head lolled to one side. Voices shouted outside the house. Footsteps pounded up the front walk. Dave leaped off his wife's supine body and snatched up his clothes in one hand and the automatic in the other. He balled his clothes into a wad and moved toward the bedroom doorway.
The door burst open and two shadowy figures filled the opening. Dave cursed and the gun bucked twice in his hand, spitting flame and fire. One of the shapes melted away, but the other one fired back at him. Two spats of yellow-orange flame leaped at him. A roaring sound filled his head. He dropped his clothing to the floor and felt the blood rushing out of his head and arms. He dropped his gun and turned back toward the bed and felt his knees buckling under him. The cop's gun roared again, and he jerked as the bullet took him in the back. He fell to his knees and pitched over on his face and felt the cold bare floor under his nude body.
The bed squeaked, and then he saw Patsy kneeling down over him. There was a dim light in the room. He blinked his eyes. Everything was fuzzy and blurred.
Tears welled in Patsy's eyes and dropped onto his cheek. He tried to blink his eyes, but his eyelids suddenly felt glued and he could not move them. He wanted to tell Patsy it was better this way, but he couldn't open his lips and make his mouth work.
Patsy sobbed and large full breasts shook like bowls of jello. He fixed his gaze on them, recalling how fond of them he had always been. How he had always enjoyed kissing them and biting the nipples and suckling on them, in the past. Now he would never have time again.
Patsy sobbed and threw herself at him. Her breasts caressed his cheeks, the hard erect nipples staring straight at him. He looked at the puffed, burned nipples and felt a shudder wrack his entire body.
Then there was nothing. No pain, no fear, no life. Only a well of blackness sweeping over him, wiping out every thought and memory and shred of life he had ever known.
Patsy's breasts were the last thing Dave Gourmley ever saw.