Even before the sound of the high school dismissal bell faded, Darcy Williams had slammed her book shut, jumped up, and was the first one out the classroom door.
As she entered the corridor a full second before other students began to jam out of the rooms, Darcy felt exhilarated. She liked to be first-even in little things.
Darcy headed for her locker at the end of the corridor. Her breasts jiggled enchantingly from beneath her soft sweater, and her hips bounced sassily. Even her long auburn hair added to the appearance of anxious youth, hurrying toward adventure.
Darcy crashed her locker closed, turned, started to take a step, then stopped when she saw the tall boy hurrying in her direction. She smiled, seeing the dark scowl he wore, noticing, too, his quick stride that made his narrow hips seem very sexual. Darcy had a flashing memory of those hips spinning above her. Then she dismissed the thought as the boy stopped before her.
"Where you going in such a damn hurry?" the boy asked.
"Home, Rod," she answered, making her eyes go little-girl-round.
"Thought you were going to meet me," he said crossly.
Darcy's eyes changed. They narrowed in quick anger. "Now, you listen to me, Rod Baker. You've got to stop this possessiveness or we're going to be through altogether. Sometimes a girl just-likes to be alone, that's all."
"You? Alone?" he laughed. "That'll be the day."
"And this is the day," she said quickly.
Rod entwined his fingers around her forearm. "Come on, it's a great day. Let's take a look at the football field."
"It's got nothing but dandelions."
"Let's look at them anyway."
Darcy frowned, then sighed deeply, the movement causing her full breast to tease at Rod's hand where it gripped her by the arm. Her sigh was one of resignation.
"Well, all right," she said. "But I have to be home in an hour."
He grinned evilly, then said, "I doubt that's enough time for me, baby."
Together, they left the locker and joined the other hurrying students as all of them made their way toward the front exit door.
They were detained twice before they left the school-by two of Darcy's girl friends who pulled her away from Rod for a moment's whispers, and by tall, handsome Kenneth Masters, the school's assistant principal.
Darcy, of her own accord, lingered with Mr. Masters.
"Well, how are you today, young lady?" the man said.
"Fine, thank you," she politely replied. Then she flushed slightly as Kenneth Master's eyes roamed her young body, touching impudently at her breasts and waist and at her lively, long legs, which were bare and exposed beneath her short skirt.
Rod made a grumbling, impatient sound.
Kenneth Masters ignored him and continued to stare at Darcy, moving his eyes from her body to her wide, red mouth and the very unusual eyes, which were green and as oblong as almonds.
"Perhaps when you're not quite so busy you'll come into the office and visit for a bit," Mr. Masters said. "I-well, I'd like to get a little better acquainted with you, Darcy-with you and many of the students here at Sanford High. You know, a new assistant principal has many difficulties. You may be able to help me with some of them."
"I'll certainly try," Darcy replied. "And I will come in to see you soon."
"Splendid," Masters replied. "That'll be just
S splendid. You see, I have a little special project I'm interested in-I know you can help."
"I'll try," she said again.
"I'm sure you will," he said slowly, shaking his head and glancing once again over all of her body.
Rod tugged on her hand, and after Darcy beamed another smile upon the assistant principal, she allowed herself to be led out the door. She felt Kenneth Masters' eyes upon her as she left the school.
"What do you bother with that creep for?" Rod Baker said as they fell into step on the path that led to the football field.
"Well, he is the new assistant principal."
"And he is a creep."
"I like him. He's nice. He seems interested in everybody as if he's anxious to know us better."
"He's anxious to know you, all right," Rod said. "Crissakes, the way he leers at you iswell, hell, it's disgraceful."
"Huh," she laughed. "You're one to talk."
They were silent as they left the path and started to cut diagonnlly across the field. The ground felt fresh and lively beneath Darcy's feet. It made her want to run and shout or scream or express her joy for youth and the spring season in some absurd way. And because she could not-or would not-it added to the restlessness that had been churning in her body for weeks, a restlessness that she could not resolve, not by any endeavor, not even through the means of the mad love-making she had been using as therapy for the past month. She wondered what it was inside her that rushed so determinedly for outlet. She wondered if she would soon know its quieting. Then she wondered what would happen to her if the restlessness continued, even became overt and screamed its course through her life. She shuddered slightly.
Rod put his arm around her waist and held her closer. "That's right, baby, tremble because of my nearness."
Darcy did not answer him. She had become used to Rod's conceit. And she always hated it.
When they arrived at the bleachers, Darcy broke away from the boy's hold and sat down on the first bleacher seat.
Rod looked dismayed, then said, "Hey, it's nicer under the bleachers."
"I know," she said.
"What the devil's the matter with you lately anyway," he exclaimed. "Hell, the last few weeks you act as if you're one of those untouchables, or something."
She looked at him seriously, then said, "I've been speculating on my life, that's all. Don't you ever speculate on your life, Rod?"
"Not if I can help it," he said. "But speculating I do like-with you-right under these goddamn bleachers."
"See-there you go again. Sex, sex, sex-that's all you ever think about."
"Yeahhhhhhh," he growled luridly.
Darcy started to shake her head to show her disdain for the single-sighted boy, but he gripped her about the waist again and pulled her close. Darcy relented. She snuggled her head into his shoulder and in spite of herself felt the beginning of warmth creep over her body. This, too, was a part of the restlessness she had felt lately. Yet nothing seemed to really fulfill her.
Rod's hand sneaked upward and finally cupped at Darcy's left breast. She considered the feeling for a moment, decided that it really was rather comforting, that it was nice to be desired by the school's most popular boy, and that she did sometimes treat him horribly. She raised her head and parted her lips slightly.
Rod bent and captured her mouth. Darcy brought her arms around his back, clutching tightly at his strong shoulders, then lowering one hand to rub sensually at the small of his back, first on the outside, then inside his sweater where there was smoothness and the heat of his flesh.
When Rod half-turned her and pressured her in a way that brought her breasts in contact with his chest, Darcy shot her tongue fully into his mouth. She felt it taken and drawn upon, then released so that it could know the clash of Rod's tongue as it blazed to nip and twirl and slash strongly. She made a combat of their open-mouthed kissing. She fought his tongue with her own, chattering at it in a rhythm that matched the shudder of her body close to his.
Soon, Rod's hand moved upward and inside her sweater until it cupped around her strapless bra, then forced it down to squeeze at her naked flesh.
Darcy moaned into his mouth. Then she pulled her lips from his and buried them into Rod's neck.
"Oh, baby, you drive me crazy," he whispered.
"I know," she answered.
"Do I make you feel that way too?"
"A little."
"Just a little?" he asked, plunging his tongue into her ear, then withdrawing it so he could nibble at the lobe.
"Quite a bit sometimes," she confessed.
"Like now?"
"Yes, like now," she answered. "Come on, baby, let's go underneath the seats."
"No."
"Please." He squeezed her breast, then released it and brought his thumb and forefinger into play upon her nipple, making it lengthen and grow hotter.
"Come on, please," Rod breathed heavily.
"I can't," she said, sounding a little disappointed.
"Why?"
"Just because I can't-because I'm all crazy and restless inside and when we get through it'll be even worse-much worse-and it'll bother me for days."
"Maybe this time you won't feel that way," he offered, twirling her nipple between his fingers as if he were rolling a cigarette.
"It won't be any different," she said dejectedly.
Suddenly, Rod squeezed her breast very hard and jammed her entire body close to him. "I don't give a damn how you'll feel-I just gotta, Darcy, I gotta or go crazy."
Again, Darcy sneaked her hand inside his sweater and massaged at the small of his back as his body stiffened, then slightly trembled. A flood of sympathy flooded her. She knew how difficult the promise of sex without its fulfillment was for a boy-especially a boy like Rod Baker.
"Ohhhh, Jeeez, Darcy," he exclaimed in a long, slow expulsion of breath.
"I know, I know," she said soothingly.
"Jeez-you can't do this to me," he exclaimed, his voice tight and hard. "You can't-you can't, for Crissakes!"
His desperate cry scorched her and excited her. Darcy knew that it was now not within her to deny Rod's sad plight.
"All right," she said. "But you'll have to be careful this time-you have to promise."
"I promise," he groaned.
She released her hold upon him. When he pulled back, then rose from the bleacher seat, Darcy stood up and immediately moved down the long line of seats until she came to the end. Then she and Rod skirted the end and moved beneath the bleachers where the long shadows made it seem that they were jailed.
Darcy looked around, then said, "You'll have to do something, Rod. Somebody might see us."
Rod did not answer. But he turned quickly, sighted a pile of long green boards that were intended for the replacement of seats in the bleachers, then moved to them. He dragged a half-dozen of them beneath the bleachers. Then he piled them on the open side, creating a private place for love-making.
"There, that'll do it," he breathed.
Darcy moved within the concealed area. She looked at Rod, then lowered to the thick grass. She moved from her back to her side, then looked up at the seventeen-year-old boy.
He snorted a short growl of desire, then flung himself next to her. They embraced. Their bodies stretched long together, each part of them touching-breasts to his hard chest, bellies flat together, thighs smacking hard and feet touching and entwining. And their tongues mixed and played with a new fury, a fury that now held promise for its quieting. And hands moved and touched, too. Rod moved one of his inside her sweater again and squeezed and fondled and tipped at the nipple.
Darcy felt all of the various sensations at the same time. She thought of the restlessness that had been a part of her. And even as she considered it and thought of the antidote of love she was about to know, she knew that nothing that
Rod Baker could give her would suffice, that the things that screamed inside her were wilder than anything in life, so wild that their quenching would only come by something unique and mad and crazy ?nd defiant. Yet she knew she would submit to Rod, that she could not help but submit, for experimentation was needed before cure could be obtained. She smiled, then closed her eyes as she received him and the love he had to give.
Very quickly, their young bodies moved, then quieted. Rod's expression turned soft and satisfied. Darcy's did not. Instead, they seemed to express some new torment of her mind.
She turned from Rod as soon as possible. She did not want to see him reassemble his clothing. Nor did she want him to see her doing the same thing. Darcy felt displeased and unhappy, less with Rod than with herself. And she could not understand it. It was as if she had reached some point in her young life that demanded decisions-important decisions. The thought was not new. It had been with Darcy for many weeks, had filled her day dreams and played within the fantasies that filled her mind while she slept. Darcy never recognized their message, only that it had something to do with being young, with that and the threat of the rapid approach of age.
Darcy finished with her clothing and stood up. So did Rod. Then they turned away from the bleachers that had concealed their love-making.
They moved away from the bleachers and across the football field by the same path they had taken earlier. At the front of the school they paused.
"Come on, I'll walk you home," Rod said. "You don't have to," she replied. "It's in the opposite direction."
"I don't mind."
"No, really, Rod, I want to be alone."
He looked at her curiously, then said, "See, there you go again. And after what we've just had, too."
"I can't help it," she said. "Like I said, sometimes a girl just-likes to be alone."
"You're crazy."
"Maybe." She moved a few paces away from him, then smiled over her shoulder and said, "Bye-bye-see you tomorrow, Rod."
Darcy did not turn or slacken her pace away from Rod. She felt his eyes upon her until she reached the corner, then she turned and moved out of view. Relief swept her body. She hurried her pace, not toward her home but in an easterly direction that led to the giant lake and the hard, smooth sand beach that fronted it. For a week, this had been her destination immediately after school. For a week she had been moved to the scene by the lake that revealed strange and exciting characters, the-likes of whom she had never before seen.
When she arrived at the place she paused. The spot was a narrow, downward-sloping pathway which led away from the main highway and the sidewalk next to it, to the beach below. Darcy moved down the path.
Her loafers dug deeply into the sand. And the beach brush at either side of the pathway struck out at her, nicking at her hips and breasts as she moved.
Halfway down the path, she heard the roaring sound that told her she would not be disappointed once she had attained a full view of the beach below. She paused and looked around, then when the roaring-motor sound heightened, she hurried further down the path.
Soon, she arrived at a spot that offered a full view of the entire beach. Only a hundred yards away from where she stopped between the outstretched twigs of several bushes, the entire beach stretched before her. It was here that she halted, here that she sat down, curled her legs beneath her hips, and stretched her neck high in order to take in all of the beach scene that she had come to witness.
On the beach, some circling, others moving in a wider circle, a dozen power-packed motorcycles roared like hot, mad beasts. And the boys and girls upon the bikes looked beastly, too. The boys wore short denim or leather jackets and dirty, tight-fitting jeans. They wore hats, too, hats of all kinds: berets, stiff-visored, military-appearing caps, helmets with foreign country insignias upon them, mad, crazy hats that seemed to shout defiance to all convention, to authority, to the entire world. And the boys themselves seemed like rebels from hell. Some were bearded. Most wore their hair long and uncombed. Many wore sunglasses that gave the appearance of grotesque holes in their faces. A few of the boys were bare-chested beneath their parted jackets, showing strong-muscled chests that were very brown and decorated by crosses and other ornamental symbols that hung at the end of chains.
Darcy's heart pounded as she watched the boys move their big, powerful Harley-Davidson 74's in casual circles and crisscrosses across the beach. And when her eyes alighted on the boy who she had guessed was the leader, her heart pounded even heavier. He looked hotter and madder and crueler and more defiant than all the others. He was big and heavily muscled, yet his waist was small and showed the ripples of strength beneath his parted jacket. His beard was different from those of the others. It was not quite so straggly, and it was auburn colored, much the same as Darcy's hair. And he always held his head higher and more proudly than the others, much as if he were shouting insults to the sky, the sun, to all the heavens above. The way he rode his bike made Darcy feel the titillation of her breast tips against her bra. He rode it as though it were a beast, a female beast, with love and care, yet with the violence that women sooner or later come to expect and desire from a man. He looked hard. And ruthless. Violent and destructive.
Darcy fastened her eyes upon this rebel leader and did not take them from him until one of the girls approached the front of his bike, causing him to halt.
Darcy felt a sting of envy for the girl. She was quite tall, obviously one of the motorcycle gang, for Darcy had seen her with the others for a steady week, and she was pretty in that uncared-for way that seemed so attractive. The girl's hair was long, ending at her waist. It was very blonde. It was straight and seemed a perfect complement to her pale face, the large lips that were without lipstick, and the round, blue eyes that sparkled not from make-up, but from the sun, from excitement, and from, Darcy was sure, her presence before the reddish-bearded boy.
The conversation between the boy and the girl was brief. Each smiled from time to time. Once, the boy nodded toward the girl's breasts, which were concealed, but not unnoticed, beneath a tight leather jacket. The girl smiled back, then she lowered the zipper of the jacket to reveal her bare breasts, which were hard and cone shaped as they stuck impudently out from the edges of the leather jacket.
Darcy felt a lump clog her throat. She thought of her own breasts and how attractive they were, how much Rod always desired them. She wondered if the bearded boy would like them. She hoped so. She hoped she would some day have a chance to find out. Then she felt that other thing that had come to her every day for a week, every day when she had rested concealed while she observed the boy and the others upon the beach. She felt the hot throb of her young thighs, pulsating, pushing, steaming like an inferno. And it was this that Rod Baker had never been able to fully quiet. It was this that scorched her and moved her to the sight of the stranger-boy upon the motorcycle. There was a connection, Darcy knew, a unity between herself, the motorcyclist, and the hot, anxious throbbing of her young womanhood. She wondered if it was caused by more than sex. Then she knew that there was nothing more than sex, that it was tied to everything. And again she associated the restlessness of her body with the scene that she had watched secretly all week long.
Darcy shifted her position, hoping that quiet would come to her thighs. It did not. Nor did her heartbeat lessen when she saw the blonde-haired girl boldly part her jacket, cup one breast and hold it out to the reddish-bearded lad. He laughed. Then he said something. Then, like lightning, the girl jumped on the back of the motorcycle and locked her arms around the boy's waist, locked them tightly as she cuddled her bare breasts against the leather of his jacket.
As if ashamed of her thoughts, Darcy deliberately looked away from them, turned her attention to the other motorcyclists and their girls. There were fully a half-dozen other boys as attractive as the lad she had watched and desired. Some were even more handsome. And a few seemed even meaner and harder and more brutal looking, especially a colored boy whose jacket was red leather in a kind of defiance to his fellows. He excited Darcy quite a lot, but not enough to clear her mind of the red-bearded leader. And Darcy noticed that the other girls, all in an assortment of leather and jeans, were as attractive as the long blonde-haired girl. She wondered why it was that this particular girl presented herself to the boy-leader. Then Darcy could deal in suppositions no longer. She had to turn and look at the boy and girl who were clinging together on the chugging Harley-Davidson.
The boy moved the bike in a small circle as the girl clung to him, handling the machine casually with one hand, making it do small figure 8's and triple circles, acting very much as if he were undecided about a destination. But then the girl leaned forward and whispered into the boy's ear. He grinned, then spun the machine around and headed down the beach in a direction directly beneath the spot from which Darcy watched.
Darcy felt cheated and mad. She felt very envious of the blonde girl, of the way her hair flew wildly behind her, of the way her naked breasts oozed out from her jacket to crush against the boy's back. And she felt mad because she was sure that the whispered words had indicated sex, its invitation, its urgent need. She knew that it was toward this that they hurried.
Still, Darcy could not take her eyes from the pair. She raised to her knees and held her head high for a better view.
And then the most astonishing thing happened. The red-bearded boy jerked the motorcycle to a halt directly beneath Darcy's position midway up the hill. He braced the bike with one booted foot and looked up at Darcy. His beard and long hair glinted in the sun. And in a moment, the blonde girl followed the direction of the motorcyclist's gaze and also looked at Darcy.
Darcy felt her heart thump madly once again. But she did not look away. Mustering the same kind of defiance that the boy showed, she looked at him, held his gaze steadily as if awaiting his move so she could answer it.
Suddenly, the boy threw his head back and laughed hard, roared, rolled out long bursts of laughter that seemed masculine and hard and a little obscene. And while he laughed, he looked at Darcy, let his eyes rivet to her as if they could pinch at the bareness of her body beneath her simple, schoolgirl attire.
Soon, the blonde girl laughed, too, but it was obedient, came not at all from enthusiasm or even from the mystery that called forth laughter from the boy.
Darcy trembled. She felt her loins heat again, and she felt the sudden tautness of her nipples as they hardened and reached out, stretching, it seemed, toward the boy as they asked for his taking of them.
The boy ceased laughing. He continued to stare at Darcy. And now a different expression creased his weathered face. He took on a look of curiosity, touched with kindness and admiration. The change had come quickly, as if it had intruded upon him without will or permission.
And Darcy looked at him and wanted to melt. She felt like butter beneath a raging sun, an ice-statue facing a spring thaw, a girl caught spying upon a taboo scene. And yet her body reacted and thrilled, trembled and shook and yearned to break her pose, burst out, go clamoring down the hill and forward to the red-bearded boy upon the motorcycle.
But she did not. She merely looked at him, feeling that in some strange, incredible way, he was the answer to many things for her young body.
The boy laughed once more, then kicked the motorcycle forward and with the girl hanging to his waist, accelerated it hard until they zoomed terrifyingly fast down the straight, smooth stretch of beach.
Darcy watched the fading sight of them. Again she felt envy for the blonde girl, sensing that she and the boy were headed toward some secluded spot and the erotic adventures they would pursue there.
But, even as she felt sadness, Darcy also felt a glow of hope. She knew that her waiting and watching would soon be over, that soon, very soon, she would move to meet this boy and his gang. She wondered what would befall her then. She wondered if perhaps then she would know a calming for her restless spirit and churning body. She shivered as she considered it. She felt a little frightened. But it was a fright that she sensed came only from the great torment of her body, a torment that sought cure from a stranger, an angry, red-bearded rebel boy who laughed aloud and recklessly, then rode off on his motorcycle.
CHAPTER 2
Zipper Hardy was deep in thought and considering the sun, which was setting, when the blonde girl intruded upon his secluded place on the beach, an exceptional place that shielded him by sand dunes on three sides. He was not at all pleased to see her. Lately, he was never pleased to see the willowy Lil Adams. Always, she appeared at exactly the wrong time, like this very moment when Zip was contemplating life and its meaning, his own motorcycle-centered existence, and the future that he either had or did not have. Lately, Zip had spent a lot of time alone. He liked it this way. Alone, he could think. But his leadership of the "Devil Cats" robbed him of aloneness. And, when the club didn't demand him for a caper, Lil did.
"Hiding on me again, eh?" she said, flopping on her side next to him.
"Naw-not hiding, thinking. Go on, beat it."
"Man-what a crab." She smiled into his face, then raised on one elbow so that her lips were directly on a line with his.
"I said beat it," he muttered, looking at her, then glancing away.
"What the hell's the matter with you, Zip?" she asked, her head cocking to one side.
"Nothing. I'm just thinking, that's all."
"And you've been doing a hell of a lot of it lately."
"So?"
"So, it doesn't leave any time for me, baby. And that I don't like. Hell, even the cats are beginning to growl about how you're always thinking."
He raised a bit. His expression turned interested. Then he said, "What about the cats? What's with them about me?"
"Just that you're always thinking-and not thinking about capers for the club either."
He turned from her, saying, "They ain't got no kicks. They voted to come to this crummy burg because the heat was on back home-couldn't ride any place without the fuzz on either side and front and back. So we're here-what the hell do they want?"
"Action, baby, just like me."
"They can make their own action."
"They want some recruits, Zip, and that's the truth. And they want the girlie kind. The 'Janes' around here are going dry-the boys need some new action kind of stuff, and they're looking to you to arrange it."
He did not answer. He stared straight ahead, feeling a discontent within himself that he did not understand, a strange, rumbling kind of discord between himself and those who were the members of his club.
"And there's something else, too," Lil said. She paused, waiting for him to look at her.
He did not, but he said, "Yeah-what's the other gripe?"
"Terrible and Joe and Itchy all need parts for their bikes. We gotta heist some in town."
"Let the bastards go to a parts store," Zip said.
Lil laughed, then said, "And when did any of us ever buy anything we can steal."
"Never."
"That's the truth," she agreed. Then her voice changed, went disturbed and unhappy as she said, "Come on, Zip, what the devil is it with you? You ain't been the same for weeks."
"Same as what?"
"Same as you were before we came to this burg."
He laced his hands behind his head and looked over his motorcycle, which rested in the single entrance to the clearing. He thought of the bike, its power, the feeling it always gave him, the sensation of reckless abandon and daring. Even death. For a second he thought about death. He had faced it several times after crashes with his bike. But it didn't impress him, neither with fear-or promise. Then he thought of life, especially his own, the aimlessness of it, and once again a kind of restlessness careened through his body.
It was an unfamiliar sensation. And, because of its unfamiliarity, Zip wished to dismiss it as quickly as possible. He looked at Lil who, for Zip, had always been the means of forgetting.
She smiled and raised a little higher above him. Then in a quick motion she lowered the zipper of her leather jacket, allowing her breasts to loom forward.
Zip grinned, then said, "You always start that way, don't you, baby?"
"Good a way as any."
"Not today it isn't," he said.
Offended, she asked, "Why not?"
"Because I don't want to," Zip said. "That should be a good enough reason for anything. But for you, I'll spell it out. I want to be alone. Quiet. I want to think. I've got a lot of things on my mind and I want to get them straight. See? So, scoot now, eh?"
"Ah, Zip...."
Impatiently, he shook his head. He looked past her. It was then that he saw a familiar dark figure standing at the entrance of the clearing. Zip smiled. He felt relieved. At least if he couldn't get rid of Lil, another had brought an intrusion to the scene. Zip was glad.
"Man, oh, man alive, do I ever pick the wrong time to show up," a deep Negro voice said from the entrance.
Lil looked in the direction of the voice, then angrily said, "What the hell do you want, Ham?"
The figure moved closer, then paused in front of them. The Negro boy smiled. He was very attractive in his red leather jacket, and his Negro features served to subdue the brightness of his smile and the red jacket, giving him a neutrality of appearance. A nice neutrality. He was about nineteen and very strong looking.
"Come on, Ham, sit down," invited Zipper.
Disturbed, Lil made an unpleasant sound and looked away.
"Okay, Ham, shoot-what's up?" asked Zip.
"Nothing much, man," Ham answered, smiling broadly. "Just a little item like a couple of recruits we've got down the beach-a couple of little high school Janes that say they want to cruise with us a spell."
Zip was not pleased with the news. It threatened him and the mood of complacency that had been with him for weeks. And it threatened his leadership of the Devil Cats, a leadership he had lately neglected.
"Who did the recruiting?" Zip asked angrily. "I didn't give any go-ahead on anything like that yet."
"Terrible Jones got the Janes," Ham replied. "Guess he was getting a little impatient since his ol' lady went back home."
"So goddamn impatient that he'll land us all in the clink," Zip growled.
"Aw, no, man, nothing like that," Ham said, shaking his big black head. "These little girls are real anxious to cruise with the Cats."
Lil, who had risen, said, with a note of scorn in her tone, "What the hell, bet the little chicks can't even make it through the initiation."
"Well, little woman," Ham said, "that's exactly what we're proposing to find out right now if you and the chief can tear yourselves away from this little patch of solitude."
"We're coming," Zip said.
"Coming?" Lil repeated with a short laugh. "Man-you're saying it wrong."
"Come on, let's get with the others," Zip said.
"Oh, goodie," Ham said, feigning enthusiasm. "We're going to be mighty pleased to have you with us, Chief."
"And what does that mean?"
The Negro grinned, then said, "It means the absence of our leader has just shook us all up terribly lately."
"Where's the gang?"
"At the beach house." He paused and grinned again. "I reckon you still know the way there."
Zip glared at him, then walked past him. He flung a leg over his Harley-Davidson, then jammed his foot downward, sparking it to power and life. Then he turned and waited for Ham and Lil to join him. When they did, Ham claimed the seat behind Zip and Lil clambered into the big Negro's lap, while she cross-legged the bike.
Then they were off, roaring down the beach and into the dusk. Zip felt the power of the machine beneath him and thought how much it was like a woman-fully-charged, strong, yet liquid-moving. And yet he felt a misdirection and fraud in the machine as if it were meant for one thing but used for another. He wondered why it meant so much to him, why it, and the gang, had for nearly two years been his only interest, his almost total preoccupation. And then he thought of the town, Sanford, that the gang had come to in order to ride their bikes in freedom. He thought of the town and its people, especially the young people he had seen, and he felt a curiosity about their lives. Then he remembered the pretty, auburn-haired girl who had looked down upon him, the way she was half-concealed and had obviously been spying upon the gang. He grinned, remembering the way she had brazenly held his look when he had stopped and looked up at her. It had been a good display of guts, Zip acknowledged. And yet there was something about her that had made him think of her and the town and its people and how much the Devil Cats were opposed to that kind of conformity. And then, he once again shook his head, dismissing the thoughts, knowing that they could only hurt him, cause him evil doings within his own midst.
Zip braked the bike in front of the broken-down beach house, the place that a landlord had been quick to rent to the first inquirer.
The three of them departed the motorcycle. Zip saw that several lights shone dully against the last shades of dusk. They gave off an ominous appearance, as if they shone for trouble and that alone.
"Everybody's here," Ham offered.
"Good," Zip said.
"Yeah, real good," Lil concurred. "The more the merrier, I always say."
"You always say too cuttin' much," Zip growled.
He pushed ahead of Ham and Lil and mounted the front stairs of the house. He moved across the porch, then hesitated at the front door. He waited until Ham and Lil were next to him, then he pushed the door inward.
All of the members of the Devil Cats were present in the large living room. Most in evidence were Zip's lieutenants, Terrible Jones, Itchy, and Joe, a black-leather attired threesome who appeared far meaner, cruder, and dirtier than any of the others. The three lieutenants were in the center of a ring the others had created by sitting in a circle on the floor. In front of the motorcyclists, and talking to them, were two girls, both of whom appeared to be fifteen or sixteen and were exceptionally pretty, one with jet black hair, the other a blonde with curls that teased at her ears. Both of the girls had mature bodies, which they had apparently taken special care to reveal as much as possible. They both wore very short, tight skirts that revealed high parts of their thighs and showed the most intricate outlines of their buttocks. The dark-haired girl wore a white peasant blouse. It was loose at the bottom and displayed delightful patches of belly-flesh when she stretched or moved. And, if this was not sufficient to announce the absence of undergarments, the hard points of her nipples pressing against the thin cloth of the blouse clinched the impression. The blonde girl, who was taller than her friend and more solidly built, was also without the encumbrance of a bra. She wore a soft, cashmere sweater. Her breasts rippled and bounced when she moved, and the hard breast ends pinpointed the exact centers of her very ample roundness. The eyes of the girl were interesting, too. They glinted excitement and inner heat much as if they mirrored the sensations of their young bodies.
"Hey, Cats, get excited, I got the chief with me," Ham said, grinning and coming even with Zip where he stood just inside the door.
"Yeah, greetings," Terrible Jones said sarcastically. "Glad to see you around, Zip."
There was laughter from the group, laughter that was meant as a reprimand for their leader and his recent negligence of the gang.
"All right, can that," Zip said sternly. "What's cooking?" He looked at the young girls, each of whom turned and fastened him with their very best, most sensual, wide-mouthed smile.
Itchy, who was tall and thin and had the nervous habit of scratching at the leather of his jacket constantly, stepped forward a few paces, grinned at Zip, then nodded toward the girls.
"Well, these little Janes want to cruise with us, Chief," Itchy said. "They say they want to join our little group."
Lil pushed forward, fixed the girls with a cold stare, then said, "I can tell right now, they ain't got the guts."
The big Negro, Ham, grinned, ran his eyes over the bodies of both girls, then said, "Hell, little lady, their guts look just fine to me."
Laughter, coarse, and interspersed with ribald remarks, filled the room.
Zip held up his hands for quiet. When it was attained, he turned slowly, letting his eyes roam over the circle of Devil Cats. Then he looked at the girls, who continued to smile at him but who, obviously, had no intention of speaking until the gang leader indicated that they should.
"Where are you two from?" Zip asked the girls.
The blonde was spokeswoman. She took a step forward and said, "From town-from Sanford."
"You go to school there, eh?"
"Yes, at Sanford High," the blonde replied.
"We're juniors," the dark-haired girl offered.
"Juniors?" Terrible Jones exclaimed. "What's that-you mean you got the same name as your old ladies?"
"It means they're next to their last year in high school, stupid," Zip said without looking at Terrible.
The girls tittered a light laugh.
"What are your names?" Zip asked.
"I'm Dottie, said the blonde. "And my girl friend here is Terry. We're sixteen, and we want to...."
"Just answer the questions, Goddammit," Zip cut in sharply. "Now, why the hell do you want to ride with the Devil Cats?"
The girls looked at each other a second, then Terry, the dark girl, took several paces toward Zip, walking in an undulating manner that seemed meant to enchant and enrapture the leader of the Devil Cats.
"We want to ride with you Cats because we're looking for kicks-big ones-the kind we can't get in Sanford," she said, stopping and staring straight at Zip, holding his eyes for a moment, then looking at all of his body, touching at his shoulders, his narrow waist, and at the tightness of. his jeans where they plastered to his thighs.
"It's not that easy, kid," Zip said. "Any Jane that rides with us has to make it big at the initiation."
"We can," said Terry, lifting her chin.
"Maybe you can," said Zip, laughing. Then he added, "But come on, there has to be one big reason that makes you come to us, ready to peddle yourselves just to be with us. What is it?"
Again the girls looked at each other. Soon, Terry said, "Well, this is the way it goes. You see at school, well, there's all kinds of competition-especially among the girls. All the gals try to outdo each other in kicks."
"And you're the leaders, eh?"
"No, we're not, and that's what's buggin' us." She paused, then continued, saying, "Darcy Williams is the hottest thing at Sanford, the little snip. She's always coming up with something that tops everybody for kicks. Well, Dottie and I are out to top that little bitch-and we can do it if you let us cruise with you Cats."
"Where's this Darcy Williams?" Zip asked.
"Who knows? Probably in a back seat at the drive-in movie."
Zip grinned and tried to create an image of Darcy Williams, feeling, as he did so, a certain admiration for the leadership of this unknown girl, her leadership that prompted others to seek out the Cats as a means of victory over her.
Boldly, Zip walked over to Terry. He stopped only inches away from where her breasts stretched outward from her peasant blouse.
"You got any idea what our initiation's like?" he asked.
"No, but it doesn't matter," Terry said. She turned to her girl friend and added, "Does it, Dottie."
"Not a bit," the girl replied, walking next to her friend and looking at Zip.
Zip turned to the assembly of his fellows, then raised his hands and said, "What do you say, Cats-do we put 'em to the test?"
Loud, affirmative shouts issued from all the Devil Cats.
The girls smiled widely and waited.
"Okay," Zip said. "The rest is going to be up to you gals."
"That's all we need," Terry said.
"Yeah, just a chance," Dottie offered.
"Well, we'll see how you make it. Hell, you might make it big enough to get to wear our insignia." He pointed to a white skull and cross bones that was painted on his jacket. It had splashes of red where an imitation of blood had been painted so as to ooze from the eye and mouth orifices of the skull.
"Man, what do we have to do to earn that?" Terry asked excitedly.
"You'll see." He turned toward Terrible Jones, then said, "Okay, Terrible, you recruited 'em-take over the initiation ceremonies."
"Yeah," Terrible breathed evilly. "Just let me get goin'. "
He moved to where the girls stood waiting. He grinned at them and he was a gruesome sight. All of his front teeth were broken in the middle and the remaining parts were yellow with stain. His eyes were pale-blue and they glistened, but it was in a way that gave the impression that they looked not at the girls but through them to some secret visions of them he created. Terrible's hair, once brown, now was a non-definable color made up of the dirt of a thousand dusty roads. It was matted and long, straggled nearly to his shoulders.
But the way Dottie and Terry looked up at the motorcyclist gave the impression that he was out of Hollywood and the dream-king of the teens.
"Let's see what ya look like under them duds, eh," Terrible told the girls.
They looked at each other. Dottie flushed a light pink at her cheeks, but it did not detain her from immediately sliding the zipper of her skirt downward.
Zipper Hardy watched as the girls started undressing. For a moment he tried being objective, like another person watching himself, and the proceedings, intent upon the investigation of his thoughts and sensations. What he discovered frightened him. He felt a stab of genuine pain as the teenaged girls slipped out of their skirts. They looked young and innocent, although he already knew that they were certainly not the latter. And as he looked at them, he again remembered the auburn-haired girl that had caused him to stop and look and wonder-especially wonder about what it would be like to be in school, have a girl such as she was, and be free of the Devil Cats' life, which was dedicated to the humiliation of all other kinds of life.
Zip shook his head, then looked to the side where Lil stood watching the young girls. Her face was hard and set in lines. She was still feeling for not having sexually gained him this night, Zip guessed. Then he recalled that lately he had avoided sexual encounters, that whenever he did make love with Lil, he did so more out of duty than desire.
A cheer arose from the crowd.
Zip turned his attention to the school girls. Both of them were nude and standing very straight, much as if they were slaves presenting themselves upon the trader's block. Zip felt a rumble of passion trill at his thighs. The girls were exceptionally well-built, he decided. And they were on a par in the desirability of their bodies. Where Dottie, the blonde, was bigger in the breasts and more flaring of hips, her friend, Terry, had breasts that were harder and more pointed, with cherry-tips that raged outward like stiff fingers.
Terrible groaned some erotic sounds and looked from one girl to the other, then back again. He clasped his hands together in front of him like a boy being presented with a long-sought gift. Then he reached out and fondled Terry's breasts. She threw her shoulders back, boldly offering more of her breasts to his anxious hands. And in a moment, Dottie barged into the erotic act. She moved next to her friend and thrust her breasts out for Terrible's attention. He laughed, then fondled her with one hand while he continued to knead Terry's breast.
"Man-you're too damn slow for this Cat," big Ham suddenly shouted. He leaped to the center of the ring, then ripped his red leather jacket off his strong shoulders. And then he unbuttoned his shirt and flung it to the ground.
Zip was moved to interfere, then decided against it. He looked at the big Negro and wondered how the young girls were reacting inside their bellies to the sight of the huge Devil Cat readying himself for action. Ham's muscles rippled and glistened beneath the lights. His stomach indented in a hard, tight manner.
"Hey, Zip," Terrible called out. "You ain't goin' let this Cat butt in are you?"
Ham turned, locked his hands at his waist and looked defiantly at Zip.
"Why not?" Zip asked. "After all, any Jane who rides with us gets ridden by us-all of us too, doesn't she?"
"Yeah, but I did the recruiting," the gruesome one protested.
"Sure you did," Ham cut in. "You did the recruiting and I'm agoin' to do the cuttin'. "
As if they were competitors, the two boys made a dive for the girls. Ham caught Terry to him and she thrust so hard against him that there was a sharp smack of their flesh that sounded through the room. Itchy, as if not to be outdone, clasped Dottie to him and rolled to the floor. And soon the four of them, side by side upon the floor, were moving in erotic speed, giving and taking to each other as they took inspiration from the exhibitionism of their act.
Zip looked away from it. He found an excuse for his eyes to do many things other than watch the sexual performance in the center of the room. It seemed to him that it would never end. But, finally, it did, amid moans and cries and shrieks and yelping.
Zip turned now, but he did not see the girls. They were still on the floor, on their backs, smiling and waiting as the scuffling sounds grew loud while the Devil Cats lined up, one behind the other, in front of the girls.
"Hey, Zip, are you joining the gang-bit?" one of the Devil Cats called to him.
"No. You guys go on. I'm going to-to check the security outside."
Almost immediately, there were the loud sounds of laughter and shouting encouragement from one Cat to the other as they took their turns with Dottie and Terry.
Zip turned and exited the room, thinking of the scene behind him, of the hundreds of similar scenes he had witnessed since becoming a member and leader of the motorcycle club. And strangely, through it all there came another memory, one that seemed remote yet strangely close, the memory of an auburn-haired girl of extraordinary beauty watching from a hiding place as he zoomed off on his motorcycle. Zip felt a tremendous curiosity about her. He wondered why he continued to think of her. Then he wondered if he would ever see her again, if perhaps in some strange way she was destined to enter his life. He felt a chill. He knew that it had come both from fear and from desire.
CHAPTER 3
Darcy Williams enjoyed rising early before others in the family were up and bustling about the morning's business. This particular morning she had not only awakened earlier than usual, but was already in the bathroom and slipping out of her shortie nightie a full hour before her alarm was due to sound.
Darcy pulled the nightie over her head and let it drop to the floor. Then she viewed her body, nude except for the nighttime panties that still adorned her body. They were brief-bikini brief-and made her legs appear longer than usual. Darcy liked that. She stepped a pace closer to the mirror and inspected the morning view of her body. It looked sleepy, but the same as she remembered it. It had not changed. Then she thought how odd it was that she had even anticipated a change. Her cheeks flushed a bit as she recalled her reasons for the thought, the new experience that had at first frightened her and now delighted her.
She stepped back several paces so that she could see all of her bareness in lone long, full-statured view. She looked at her thighs. She felt a rumble of excitement there as she viewed herself, then she felt a quick flush of heat. Slowly, she brought her right hand in front of herself and touched herself lightly, merely cupping her hand. The throb she remembered so well was pulsating there now, even so early in the morning.
Darcy did not move her hand toward greater stimulation. She merely held herself and remembered all of the events of the previous evening.
Rod Baker had been beside himself with desire. And he had been more aggressive than usual. After Darcy had allowed him to park the car by the lake, and had also allowed the kisses and touches that had become routine between them, the boy still insisted upon more. And Darcy, because she had excited herself with thoughts of other people, all of whom were more exciting than her schoolboy date, allowed a few more intimate contacts: those of Rod's hand to her breasts, then his lips to the same area as his hand touched between her thighs.
Finally, Darcy restrained him altogether and pushed away from him, cowering in the far end of the car seat.
Rod pleaded the case of his denial: "What's gotten into you? You've done it before-why not now? What the hell! Since when have you gotten so goddamn untouchable?"
Darcy merely lowered her eyes demurely, smoothed down her skirt, and asked to be taken home-immediately.
Rod turned caveman. He leaped at her, moved atop her, clamped her mouth to his and jammed his knee down hard to force a wedge between the softness of her thighs. Darcy had been tempted to bite hard upon his tongue, which shot exploringly into her mouth. But she did not. She knew that this would only incense him all the more. She allowed the new, desperate kiss. She allowed the new parting of her blouse and the taking of her large breasts by his moist hands. She even allowed the jiggling manipulations he brought to her nipples, which had hardened and lengthened despite her disinclination for more love-play. And gradually, Darcy's thighs relented, too, parted a bit, then a bit more, and finally opened fully as Rod's knee ground to her, pressuring her skirt upward while the hard material of his jeans found the softness of young woman-flesh. Darcy's reservations departed. The heat of her body subdued the discipline of her mind. Soon, Rod thrust himself forward. Darcy touched him exploringly. He whispered moans and groans of desire from his mouth to hers through the channel their lips had made.
Very soon-so soon it seemed that she had been burned-Darcy gave up her hold upon the youth. It did not serve to quiet him. It enraged him. He ground his knee harder against her and at the same time made a new thrust of his body, one that offered-indeed, demanded-a new touch of her hand. Darcy refused it. Rod attacked. He pushed her skirt high to her waist. Then, pressuring hard, he dug his knee into the side of one thigh, forcing it far to the side, positioning her for the contact of his other knee against her other thigh.
Darcy protested, but not too loudly. Then she thought of that with which they were both concerned: "You can't-you're not 'prepared.'"
Rod only laughed. Oh, yes, he was prepared, he hadn't overlooked that little item, and to prove it he twisted around and made a withdrawal from the glove compartment of the car. Then, with one deft hand, he made his contribution to decreasing the population explosion.
Now, there was really nothing Darcy could do except crunch lower in the seat, brace her head upon the armrest and-participate.
She didn't have to feign enthusiasm. She felt it. At the beginning. But as Rod pounded himself to her, her enthusiasm began to wane, her mind began to clutter with other thoughts that were in no way connected with the perspiring, pumping boy. This bothered her not a little. Darcy's personality, her appearance-everything about her-exuded sexuality. She liked that image for herself. And she meant that it should never be called a fraud, a mere mirage of what she really was.
She tightened the spread of her legs, then jack-knifed them around Rod's waist. Now, she met his drive, held it, even carried it back up to him by the strong lift of her hips. And she invented new, untried movements. She shifted from side to side, clung desperately to her young lover, buried her face into his neck and mouthed his flesh as her body steamed onward and upward and faster.
Darcy did not begin to feel the pains of disappointment until the tone of Rod's giving changed, until his action became shorter and faster, much more selfishly motivated, not until his breathing became harsh sounding and vile smelling and the tremble of his body became unbearable. Only then did Darcy know the jealousy of her lover's satisfaction, only then did she know that she was to be cheated once again from the shrieking thrill toward which she had ventured. And, sadly, it was exactly as she had anticipated.
Rod yelped a mad-dog call, paused a tiny tenth of a second, then gasped a hot, throaty final note as he made the last long movement of giving that was for himself alone.
Darcy sought to enhance this moment for herself. Her fingers dug into Rod's back, tore through shirt material and dug at flesh until she felt the sticky sensation of blood smudge her fingers. And she pumped her hips furiously, madly, insanely, up and down and from side to side in an effort to carry her congested emotions over the top to their cascading, falling end. But it was impossible. Satisfaction this night was not to be her lot. She was to know only the same yearning with the added torment of restlessness that she had already learned to know too well.
Still she moved, even after the depleted boy collapsed atop her, breathing hard even as he fell from his contact with the disappointed girl.
For a moment, Darcy felt anger. Then it passed, left her as she created as an antidote for her disappointment a vision of a red-bearded and crude-looking boy, one she had often dreamed of, one whom she had mentally endowed with every asset-especially the asset of unquenched giving-the kind that would lift her over the wall of her release.
Rod Baker had been exuberant as he drove Darcy home. She had remained quiet and remote.
And that's the way it had been, Darcy remembered as she continued to stare at her nude reflection from the full-length mirror. That's the way it had been until she had arrived home. Then, only a half hour later, cuddled within the cool sheets of her bed, she had sought and found that which Rod Baker had been incapable of providing her.
First she had created a mental image of the red-bearded boy on the motorcycle. Then she had sneaked her hand within the folds of her bed-time panties. Then she had touched herself. Then she had grown bold, touched, retouched, touched again, then caressed madly until her body shattered, while all the time her image of the boy grew larger and larger and nearly upon her. The image-bubble came upon her, smothered her, then finally burst at the exact moment that she knew a physical bursting, one that sent her hips flying and spinning and thumping upon her lonely bed.
Darcy smiled and saw it returned to her by her own image from the mirror. She remembered how well she had slept, remembered, too, that she had fallen asleep with a new image of the red-bearded boy, an image that had cast them together. Her last thought before slumber came was one of curiosity. If a mere mental picture of the boy had created such a thrill for her, what in the world would it be like to be with him-truly with him? she wondered.
Darcy breathed deeply and left her mirror.
She spent exactly five minutes inside the shower cubicle, knowing both the caress of hot, sudsy water and the shock of a cold, needle-spray rinsing. Then she toweled leisurely, rubbing the hard tufts of the towel against her breasts until they turned a rosy color and the nipples had budded hard, then bringing the same action to her small, round belly and her thighs.
Darcy dressed leisurely, too, taking considerable time before deciding upon a vivid green skirt and a light, almost-see-through, pale yellow blouse.
She left for school long before her usual hour. She was anxious to get the day started, to see what it might offer.
What it offered after a fifteen minute walk from her home was the sight of two girl friends-well, not really girl friends-foe-friends, Darcy had labeled them once after considerable introspection, the kind of friends who are sometimes intimate but still long to surpass each other in everything. They were walking a half block ahead of her.
The sight of Dottie and Terry ahead of her made Darcy first pause, then hurry to catch up with them.
"Hi, hold it a minute," she called, breaking into a trot and cuddling her books to her breast to keep them from falling.
Dottie and Terry both turned. Then they both grinned in an impish, pleased way, much as if Darcy Williams was the one person above all others for whom they were delighted to pause for an encounter this sunny morning.
When Darcy slowed her pace, then joined the girls, Dottie appraised her critically, then said, "Well, little yellow-and-green riding hood, what brings you out so early? Looking for that well-known worm, perhaps?"
"No, nothing like that," Darcy answered. "I just like to get the day started, that's all."
"How quaint," Terry said, making her eyes go wide.
Darcy looked at Terry, then at Dottie, then at the ground for a moment before saying, "You two seem unusually chipper today-what's up?"
"What's up?" Dottie repeated. "What an absolutely divine way of saying it."
Terry giggled wildly in that way that conveyed to others that she and Dottie shared a most intimate secret.
Dottie giggled too, with abandon and such uncontrollability that Darcy Williams was bound to inquire further.
She did: "What's going on, anyway? You two seem as pleased as if you'd seduced the superintendent of schools and had your final grades."
"How quaint," Terry said, using her favorite expression again.
"An adorable word-picture, absolutely adorable," Dottie said. "You are so good with words, Darcy, and Lord knows, that must be some kind of an asset."
"Maybe, but not the kind I'm known for," Darcy laughed.
"Oh, really? Just what is it that you are known for, dearie?" Terry asked.
Darcy halted. So did the girls on either side of her. They smiled. Darcy did not. Instead, she asked, "Just what in the devil is going on between you two? It sounds as if you're saying things for my benefit, but so I won't understand. Now, come on, let little old Darcy in on it, eh?"
Dottie and Terry smiled their secret smile and looked at each other. Then, at the same time, they both glanced at Darcy, and their smiles widened.
"Come on, give," Darcy said again. "Oh, it's nothing special," Dottie said, starting to walk forward again.
"No, nothing really special," Terry agreed. "It's just that-well, we're different than we used to be."
"Different?" Darcy said. "How? And why?"
The three of them walked for another twenty yards before Dottie said, "Well, you see, we've had an absolutely marvelous experience, a real honor, and it kind of makes us different from the other kids."
"Yes, kind of superior different," Terry agreed.
"No kidding," Darcy said, stopping again and placing her hands on her hips.
"Yes, really-no kidding at all," Dottie said nastily.
"Okay, let me in on it," Darcy said.
"I don't think we could-not possibly," Dot-tie answered. She looked at Terry, then said, "What do you think?"
"Well, it wasn't actually a secret oath that we took," Terry said, her face screwed in an expression of concentration. "Actually, it was pretty much' of a public initiation, and nobody said we couldn't talk about it."
"That's true, very true," Dottie said, playing at pause and delay for Darcy's benefit-and her curiosity.
"Come on, come on," Darcy blurted. "You've got me all goose bumps, keeping me waiting like this."
"Have we really?" Terry said slurringly. "How could you possibly be interested in what a couple of unpopular little old gals like us joined?" Dottie said.
"I'm interested in everything that goes on with everybody in school," Darcy announced.
"But of course she is," Terry said to Dottie leaning forward and looking past Darcy. "Don't you see why she would be interested? After all, Darcy's the accepted leader at Sanford-I mean a real leader who does all the new kicks first."
"Leader? Oh, yes, I suppose she still is," Dot-tie purred. "For awhile, at least?"
"Stop the damn cat and mouse bit right now," Darcy suddenly shouted, halting again. "I know you've been up to something, and I also know that you're both dying to tell me about it-that you're trying to drive me crazy with curiosity. So, okay, I'm crazy with it, so come on, give-. "
Terry and Dottie giggled delightedly. They traded looks of victory and accomplishment.
"I'm waiting," Darcy reminded them sternly.
"Sure you are, honey," Dottie said.
As if she couldn't wait another moment to impart the news, Terry reached forward and grasped Dottie's arm, at the same time saying, "Let me tell her-please-I want to be the one to tell Darcy."
"All right," Dottie agreed. "I'd just rather watch the expression on her face anyway."
Terry shifted her books to the other arm, then looked straight into Darcy's eyes and said, "Well, you see, Darcy, Dottie and I have joined a new club-a very special club."
"A club?"
"Yes, and like none you've ever seen around Sanford before," Terry continued. "It's the greatest club there ever was-and not many girls are allowed to join, especially if they don't own motorcycles, but you see because Dottie and I are so special-because we proved that we're so absolutely special, well, they allowed us to join."
"Who allowed you to join?" Darcy asked, cocking one eyebrow.
"The fellas."
"Boys? Men?"
"But, of course, who else," Dottie chimed in.
"Of course boys," Terry went on. Then, a little more concernedly, "And there are girls, too."
"You said motorcycles-you mean you joined a motorcycle club?" Dottie inquired quickly, recognition coming to her.
"That's part of it," Dottie said.
A smile eclipsed the frown Darcy had worn. It spread wide and conveyed her quick familiarity with those things of which the girls spoke.
"Oh, cripes, I know what you mean," she said. "You've gone ahead and joined that stupid Honda Set Club Rod Baker's been trying to get off the ground for weeks. Man-you can have it. Rod asked me to join weeks ago."
"Not quite right, dearie," Dottie said. "Terry and I would hardly be interested in anything like that."
Darcy looked surprised, but she did not speak. She waited.
"Hardly that," Terry added.
"Well then?" asked Darcy.
Terry smiled past Darcy to Dottie. Then she looked at the auburn-haired girl pursing her lips into an aloof expression.
"We've joined the Devil Cats," Dottie suddenly announced.
Darcy felt a lump in her throat and a knot at her stomach.
"You mean-those boys on the beach, you mean they're the Devil Cats?" she asked, her voice carrying an awe-stricken quality to it.
"That's who," Terry said proudly. "The roughest, wildest, kickiest gang of guys and gals you ever came across."
"And we're their newest members," Dottie added. "And, I might add, they accepted us with cheers."
"They did?" Darcy said, that quality of awe still present in her tone.
"With cheers and that's not all," Terry said. "What did you have to do?" Darcy asked.
"Plenty!" Dottie said, exploding her enthusiasm.
"What?" Darcy asked again.
"Well, I doubt we're at liberty to reveal that," Terry said seriously. "It could cause quite a bit of trouble for some people."
"The leader-who's their leader?" Darcy quickly asked, remembering her sight of the gang.
"Zipper Hardy," Terry replied. "And he's the coolest one of the bunch, I'd say."
"Zipper Hardy," Darcy said. "What a strange name. Is he-well, does he wear a beard like lots of them do?"
"He does," Dottie replied. "A beautiful, soft, red one."
"How do you know it's soft?" Darcy asked quickly, feeling a tinge of jealousy touch at her chest.
The girls laughed, implying by it, things that were not true. Then Dottie said, "We know-that's enough."
Darcy found composure quickly, straightened her shoulders and puffed her breasts out more brazenly. Then she said, "Well, chums, that's mighty interesting. I just might be interested in joining myself. What do I have to do? Who do I see?"
"Oh, you couldn't possibly get in," Dottie said. "You only get a chance by special invitation. And I doubt they'll be taking any in now that they've got Terry and me."
"Oh, really," Darcy said.
"Yes, really," Dottie replied.
"Yes, absolutely, really," Terry added.
Darcy knew that she would receive no further information from either of the girls. They had given has much as they had intended. They had accomplished their purpose, that of announcing that they had beaten Darcy at the game of 'kicks.'
For the remainder of the way to school, Darcy did not speak. But her mind buzzed with questions: How could she join the Devil Cats? How could she approach Zipper Hardy, he whom she had watched, admired, and already wanted? And why would the Cats take in the-likes of Dottie and Terry when she, Darcy, the hottest kid at Sanford High, was available? Why, why, why?
Darcy still had found no answers by the time the three girls entered the front exit of their school. But her expression was determined and her body burned with a desire for action-the kind of action that would get her all that she wanted. And what she wanted was not only the Devil Cats, but their leader, that exciting boy with a red beard, a powerful bike, and a hot, wild-looking body.
Darcy smiled when she separated from the other girls at the intersection of corridors within the school. Then her smile widened as she realized that with Zipper Hardy she would be attaining more than the excitement of him and his club-she would also be securing victory over Dottie and Terry.
CHAPTER 4
The sun had already set, but still Darcy remained high on the hill overlooking the beach, waiting for some first sign of the Devil Cats' return from whatever caper it was that had kept them from the beach since early afternoon.
Darcy had dressed in other than her usual schoolgirl attire for this invasion of the Devil Cats' lair. She wore only sandals, a thin, low, revealing bra top, and shorts that were tight enough to show a dimple on either side of her buttock-cheeks. And between bra and shorts there was only the wide expanse of her brown flesh. Darcy had chosen well. She was sure that when she made her move, her attire-especially the lack of it-would enhance her opportunity to meet the red-bearded leader of the Cats.
For a long while, Darcy rested her chin on her arms, which she crossed in front of her. Lying flat on her stomach gave her a feeling of sensuality. She enjoyed the feeling. But soon she became cramped and shifted to her side. It was then that she saw the huge colored boy with the blazing red leather jacket. It was then that she felt a quick flutter of panic in her chest, for the boy was grinning at her from less than a dozen paces away.
"Oh," she cried. "You frightened me."
"I didn't mean to, little lady," Ham answered. "Not yet, anyway. There'll be plenty of time for you to get really frightened."
Darcy tried a smile to subdue her fear, a smile that might also alter the mean, hot look in the big Negro's eyes. But it did not. He continued to sit on his haunches, staring at her. His eyes, hot coals bordered in ebony, swept her body, tickled at her breasts and thighs, spotted at her navel, then clung to her face, her auburn hair, her small nose, her bright, red and quite-wide lips.
"Who are you?" Darcy asked, rising to a sitting position.
"I'm Ham."
"Ham who?"
"Just Ham, little lady. And that's enough and you better believe it."
"You're a Devil Cat, aren't you?"
"Oh, my, you're so bright," he said sarcastically.
Darcy did not venture another word, but her eyes tried to match his in boldness. She looked at his wide, strong shoulders, at the patch of hard chest that his open jacket revealed, at his thighs-the tight look they had from the way his position caused his jeans to cling to him. And as she looked at them, she saw other things that frightened her.
"What you lookin' at, little lady?" Ham said, his voice deep and a little threatening.
"Nothing," she answered, raising her eyes to his face.
"You were looking at me; that's what you were doing," he said.
Darcy lowered her eyes to the sand, which had turned a more brown than golden color because of the sun's descent and the shadows that had come.
"Say it, little lady," Ham said. "Say you were getting a good look at me-the personal me-go on and say it."
"Where's the rest of the gang?" Darcy asked.
"What's it to you?" Ham said
"Maybe a lot-maybe I want to see Zipper."
"Oh, my, ain't you the aggressive little lady though. You want to see Zip, eh? What for?"
She grew coy. "Maybe that's just my business."
"Nothing's just your business when you're sitting in Devil Cat territory, little lady." His eyes bored into her.
Now, she felt less coy. She glanced away from Ham's steady stare.
"So what is it with the Zipper-how come you're looking for him?" he asked.
"Well, I'm not really looking for him," Darcy replied. "Not really and truly."
Ham stood up and stretched. Darcy, watching him, thought that he was monstrously tall. His black face seemed to merge with the night, while the rest of him remained in view. When he brought his arms down, he took several quick steps and was suddenly beside Darcy. Then he lowered to his haunches and stared into her face again.
"Exactly what is it you're looking for, little lady?" Ham said, his voice deep and tight, patient, but with a note of urgency to it.
Darcy did not answer at once. She could feel Ham's breath touching lightly at her face, even making wisps of her hair flutter a bit. And she could smell his breath. It was rather sweet and sticky smelling and not at all unpleasant. But more than any awareness of the big Negro, Darcy was desperately aware of his body, of the naked chest which rippled with muscles, and of his tight thighs.
"Well, you gonna talk, little lady," Ham prompted.
Now, Darcy decided upon seductiveness to diminish her fear. "Sure, what do you want me to talk about, big man?"
Ham chuckled softly. Then he reached to an inside pocket of his jacket and extracted a plain wrapper package. From it, he extracted a long cigarette. For a few moments, he let it merely dangle between his lips while he stared at Darcy with an amused expression. Then, when he returned the package to his pocket, he withdrew a lighter, lit the cigarette, then replaced the lighter inside his jacket. He dragged deeply on the cigarette twice before removing it from his lips.
Darcy watched the slow grin sweep his face as if it were a small wave approaching the shore, growing larger and finally bursting. When Ham dragged on the cigarette again, then expelled the smoke in Darcy's direction, she smelled the sweetness of the tobacco. It, like Ham's breath, was not unpleasant. But it seemed to sting her other senses, alerting her more positively to everything around her, the beach, the lake, the shrouding night, and the boy who sat hunched only inches away from her body.
"What are you really looking for, gal?" Ham suddenly asked. His voice had changed, was sharper, a little angrier.
Darcy sensed that further banter was useless. She sensed, too, that Ham had to be her entree to Zipper Hardy.
"I want to see Zipper because I want to join the Devil Cats," she said, shooting the words out fast and sure.
Ham chuckled again. Then he said, "You little high school girls are just going crazy for the Cats, ain't ya-just like crazy, little lady. What's your name?"
"Darcy Williams."
He dragged again on the cigarette, repeated her name softly, then said, "Seems I've heard that name before."
"You probably know Dottie and Terry-they're new members of the Cats. Maybe they mentioned me."
Ham nodded. "They mentioned you all right." His expression changed, grew hotter and more urgent looking. "Hey, if you're anything like those two little Janes, well, hell, little lady, I'm prepared to interview you for membership right now-and, baby, I mean right now."
Darcy started to rise, pushing up to one knee and readying to push fully to her feet. "Look, I think maybe I'd better just-"
Ham's hand shot out like a serpent's head. He gripped her hard on the forearm and pressured her to resume her sitting position.
"You're goin' no place, little lady Darcy, no place that ol' Ham don't want you to go."
Darcy settled back on the sand. She felt annoyed now, more than apprehensive.
"You don't have to be quite so rough," she said. "After all, I'm practically a member of the Cats just like you-you don't want to treat a fellow member so rough."
"Don't I?"
"You shouldn't," she said. "Goodness sake, if every-"
"Shut up," Ham ordered.
Darcy exhaled the breath she had prepared for more wordage. Her breasts, which had risen high, so high that the outer rims of her flesh showed, expelled to smaller size. But the movement had drawn Ham's attention. He peered at her breasts, and Darcy knew that the light had still not faded sufficiently to prevent him from a sensual view of her, particularly of her hard nipples, which pressed erotically against her bra-top.
Ham released his hold on her arm. Then he dragged on the cigarette, took it from his mouth and handed it to Darcy.
"Go ahead, take a little drag," he said.
Darcy lifted her chin a bit. She took the cigarette and held it daintily between her fingers, striking a pose that she hoped would convey a familiarity with cigarettes that was not exactly true.
"Drag, Darcy, drag," big Ham instructed.
She placed the cigarette between her lips, thinking at the same time that it was like a kiss being bestowed upon the big Negro boy, that his lips had been where hers were now, that they had made this subtle joining. She dragged deeply, held the smoke within her lungs a second or two, then slowly expelled it. Then she dragged again. It was then that she felt the effects of the cigarette from the strange, unmarked pack. Her senses alerted to a terrifying degree, one that made her think that she was aware of every sound, every smell, every taste and feeling of all the world at the same time. She dragged again. The feeling increased and with it there came a light-headedness, an abandon of both spirit and body that she had never before experienced. Darcy acknowledged that she had known much abandon in her young life, especially the abandon of her body, but never had she felt the crush of desire, of carelessness, of passion and not-give-a-damnness that now coursed through her body.
She took a new, deeper drag on the cigarette, let it play within her lungs for a long time, then exhaled it so slowly that the smoke stream crumbled, fell apart and pushed out in almost indistinguishable willows. She raised the cigarette to her lips again.
"Hey, girlie," Ham laughed. "Give that back to me before it's only a butt."
He reached his big black hand out to her. Darcy finished her last drag on the cigarette, then handed it to Ham.
Ham finished the cigarette silently. Darcy remained quiet, too, although she churned within her chest and belly and loins. But it was a gentle churning, the kind that whispered that she had all the time she wanted, all the time in the world for everything that she wanted.
Ham crunched the cigarette butt out in the sand. Then he grinned at Darcy.
"Were you kidding or can you really interview me?" she asked, smiling, her eyes wide with wonder and the effects of Ham's cigarette.
"Sure I can interview you," he said.
"And will it be as good as if Zipper Hardy had interviewed me?" she asked, leaning forward a bit so that her breasts peeked more alluringly from her bra-top.
"As good!" Ham exclaimed. "Well, honey, it'd be a hell of a lot better to my way of thinking. 'Course, naturally, all us Cats are pretty egotistical. But I don't know many of 'em can compare with ol' Ham, ah, really don't."
His words sounded very fuzzy to Darcy, very 'way-out' and loaded with hidden meaning. But she really didn't care, didn't care at all. As a matter-of-fact she was delighted with his words, with the soft, purring sound of them and with the kind of sexual overtone they carried. She laughed.
"Is that little chuckle of yours with me-or against me?" Ham said.
She leaned far forward, braced her hands in front of her and looked directly into his face. "It's with you, big man, with you," she declared.
Ham shot both hands out and brought them around Darcy's throat. She leaned her head back, intensifying the feel of his fingers circling her, making the pressure tighter by her own will rather than by his.
"I could squeeze you to death, little lady," he mumbled, looking into her eyes.
"Sure you could," she said. "Do it, big man, I don't give a damn."
He laughed, then said, "All of a sudden you don't give a damn about anything, eh? Man that ol' weed's really got you cruisin', ain't it?"
"Yeah, cruisin', big man, cruisin', " she breathed slowly into his face.
Slowly he pressured her closer. He stopped when her face was nearly touching his, when their breath mixed together, spun and transferred from one to the other.
Ham kept his hands around her neck, and he began to shake her lightly back and forth, saying, as he moved her, "You know, little lady, I could squeeze the life right of you if I wanted-I really could-and I kind of feel like that, too, kind of like I'd like to make a little ol' rag doll outta ya, real limp and swishy and able to do any ol' thing I wanted, if you know what I mean."
"I can do anything you can think of, big man," she said, not even thinking now of her desire to join the Devil Cats, nor of their leader, Zip, whom she had determined to encounter.
"Oh, my, but you're the brassy one," Ham said, grinning, continuing to shake her.
Suddenly, he brought his hands away from her neck. For a moment, they were poised in front of him. Then they flashed forward, caught at her bra and ripped it from her body. Her breasts bounced as they were tumbled to exposure. The nipples puffed, hurt-looking and awake.
"There," Ham breathed. "How's that for a starter?"
"That's just great," Darcy answered, throwing her shoulders back and stretching her breasts outward. "But I bet you can do a lot better than that, big man."
His right hand lashed out and he gripped her by the hair. He jerked her to his lap, held her there, face upward and looking at him as he imprisoned her in that position. Then he laughed, softly and slowly. When it ended, he brought his free hand down to her shorts. Although he had ripped her bra from her brutally, he was now gentle. He unhooked the single button at the side, then lowered the zipper and paused. He grinned at her, then locked his fingers within the waistband of the shorts and pushed them downward. Darcy arched against the strong hold of her hair, and in a moment the shorts were pulled from her ankle and tossed to one side.
Ham looked at the nudity that he had created. Darcy grinned, much as if she could sense the delight that met his eyes, the long, bare body, which, surprisingly, was absent of panties, her breasts, full and firm and hard nipple topped, her flat belly, moulded thighs and calves and sleek legs.
"Man-but ain't you somethin', " he said, his tone one of wonder. His body tensed, then he jerked her face toward him, bent and kissed her riotously upon the mouth, biting at her lips, parting them with the dynamic thrust of his tongue, then lolling it within her mouth in a heavy, lazy circle that made her body wrench, caused her arms to fly around his neck, where she dug her fingernails deep into his flesh.
After a long kiss, Ham abruptly pushed Darcy away from him. The movement surprised her, but only for a moment. Then he reached out and caught both of her breasts with his hands. He squeezed them hard, so hard that Darcy stretched her head in a deep arch, that caused her neck muscles to strain and bloat in a picture of tense, hurtful passion.
Then he released her. She arched deeply, cupped both her breasts and presented them to his mouth. He made no move to take them. But Darcy did. She lurched, thrusting hard, forcing her flesh upon his lips, crowding, crowding, crowding, pressing, demanding their rupture.
Ham gasped, shot his arms around her back and pressed her close. His black mouth became a cavern where one breast became lost. Ham mouthed her furiously, shaking his head from side to side and all the time gathering more and more of her to him.
Darcy's hands ripped at his head, pressing him tighter to her. She gasped. She uttered a little cry of pleasure, then a louder cry when Ham brought his teeth to bear upon her flesh, causing, Darcy could tell, the leakage of her blood. When Ham finally drew back and looked at her, she saw what the pain did not fully tell. The big Negro's mouth was rimmed with droplets of blood.
He looked at her for a long time. Darcy saw the change in his expression and knew that some new sensation had come to him, a new feeling that was no doubt made up of the taste of blood.
He grasped her shoulders and held her at arm's distance. Then he mumbled, "You like to be hurt, don't you, little lady? You like it and that's good, 'cause, little Darcy, ol' Ham is just the gent to hurt you all kinds of ways."
"Then do it," she said boldly. "But first get out of that goddamn crummy red jacket-get out of that and those horrible jeans."
There was silence for a long time, and the silence made Darcy re-hear her words as if they had come from another, as if they had been uttered by the devil, and not herself. Yet it was her voice; it was she who had spoken. And she knew that if she had the words to say again, she would not alter them, that the night and the big Negro and the strange tobacco she had inhaled all merged to make her venture anything-even love-making with death itself if need be.
Ham continued to look at her. He remained silent. But he pushed upright to his knees, then in a quick motion stripped his jacket from his body. His body was bubbled with perspiration. Darcy explored it with her eyes and felt excitement.
Ham bent a bit, then shot his hand out again and grasped her by the hair. He held her at arm's length, then said, "Now, little bitch girl, now we'll see if you get kicks out of my kicks."
He waited a full ten seconds. Then he crashed his open hand hard against the side of Darcy's face. She spun, stopped, then collapsed in a sprawl upon the sand. Ham was at her within an instant, jerking her upright again, slapping her again, spinning her to the ground, then yanking her to her tiptoes while he waited another long tick of seconds before slamming her with his closed fist against her breasts, crushing one into the other, making them bob and jiggle, then bend hurtfully.
"Ugh!" Darcy groaned.
He hit her with his other hand, crashing from left to right, swiping one breast to the other again. She did not fall. She groaned again. And when she clutched her body with her arms crosswise in front of her and bent forward a bit, Ham brought his knee up hard between her thighs. They parted. She staggered. Then she fell. She rolled to one side, then to her back. She stared at Ham but saw beyond him, and there, as if he had come out of the night, as indeed he had, stood Zipper Hardy. His expression was one of disappointment and hurt, and it was laced with shock.
Ham paused, then twisted around. He looked at Darcy and grinned. Then he turned, following her eyes again to where they rested upon the image of Zipper Hardy.
"Well, I'll be goddamned," Ham breathed. "You must have arrived just in time for the finale, eh, Chief?"
"Just in time," Zipper said sternly.
"Well, man, I'll tell ya, Zip, we got ourselves a real little recruit here-a real one, man-one that really goes-"
Darcy straightened, twisted her feet beneath her buttocks, then, quite shyly, crossed her arms in front of her naked breasts.
Ham looked at her and laughed. "Man-what a time for her to be embarrassed."
"Yes, what a time," Zipper said, looking straight at Darcy and showing some disappointment, unhappiness, and disgust in his eyes that frightened her, made her feel sorry for all that had happened.
Ham, looking from Darcy to Zipper, said, "Well, Chief, this was a real little preview. I don't rightly know if this little lady is up to our initiation tonight, but, man, I want to be her sponsor, I sure do."
"No, not tonight," Zipper said, not wavering his eyes from the hold they claimed on Darcy. "Not tonight, because we want to give this little broad the full treatment-yeah, the full treatment-and some of the Cats aren't here."
"Didja hear that?" Ham said, turning to Darcy. "You're going to get the full treatment. That ain't happened for an awful long time around here." Then he grinned at Zipper and added, "Hell, Chief, guess you really are taking charge of things-guess you really are."
"You still want to join the Cats?" Zip asked, addressing Darcy for the first time.
She hesitated a moment. It was a moment that made her know all the circumstances that she might face at a Devil Cats' initiation. And it told her, too, that there would be something new and horrible added to even the horrible, for, she was sure, Zipper, seeing her with Ham, had been moved to surpass himself in the creation of the most preposterous kind of ceremonies. But she did not care. She longed for Zipper Hardy and for any means that would bring her to him.
"Well?" Zipper prompted.
"Yes," she said.
"Friday night then," he said. "See that you're here-if you're not, we'll come and get you."
He turned and walked away.
Darcy stared after him until he faded into the darkness, feeling lost, hurt, and fearful.
CHAPTER 5
It was a Thursday when Darcy, leaving school late because of her membership in several clubs which had met far into the evening, left school alone, walked to the corner, then paused and turned around when she heard her name called.
There was nothing that she could see but the dusk of evening settling over the school grounds, the school, and the several parked cars which lined the curb in front of the school.
Then her name was called again. She established that it came from the first parked car. She looked at it and waited. Then a head appeared out of the window and smiled a new salutation. It was Kenneth Masters, Sanford High's new assistant principal.
"Well, come over here, my dear," Masters half laughed. "I've been waiting for you-or rather, I hoped I'd bump into you, and it turned out exactly that way."
Darcy shifted her books to her other arm and approached the car window.
"Well, hello, Mr. Masters," she said, stopping next to his smiling face.
His eyes quickly touched at all of her body; then he said, "My, but you're a difficult young lady to encounter."
"I am?"
"But, of course. After all, I did ask you to see me some time soon. But alas, to no avail, you're much too busy for your old assistant principal."
"It's hardly that," Darcy laughed. "I just haven't thought of it, that's all."
"But you're free now, aren't you?"
"Well, more or less," she said. "I'm on my way home-I have to eat; then there's home work." She paused, then laughed and added, "That is, I'll eat after I raid the refrigerator-Mom and Dad are out for the evening again and dinner's bound to be cold."
"Poor, neglected child," he said sympathetically and in such a way that Darcy could not determine whether it was real or contrived.
"I'm not that," she said.
"I'll tell you what, Darcy," Masters said, then hesitated. "I simply have to talk to you, and right away. Come, be my dinner guest at my place, and we can talk at the same time. You can telephone your parents from my home."
"They're not home-remember, I said they went out tonight."
"Oh, but of course. How stupid of me. But that's all the more reason for you to be my guest."
"Well-. "
Masters' head ducked out of sight as he leaned across the car seat and pushed open the other door. "Come on-I won't take no for an answer."
"Well, I guess it's all right," she said. "And, frankly, I am hungry."
She moved around the front of the car toward the other side. When she was exactly in the middle of the car, Masters turned on the car lights, framing her body in a spotlight of glowing yellow, Darcy turned and smiled against the brightness. Without seeing Masters, she knew that he looked at her body, especially at the short skirt, which revealed her bare legs, and at her blouse, which was lower than most she owned. Strangely, Darcy felt tickled by the lights of the car. They seemed to fill her with passion. As she moved around the car and out of the light, she thought about it, considering that for several days now her passion had been building-mounting steadily to the next night, that erotic Friday that would initiate her into membership of the Devil Cats, that night that would cast her for the first time in direct proximity to Zipper Hardy.
Darcy pulled the door shut behind her and settled in the car seat.
Happily, Masters looked at her and rubbed his hands together like a miser contemplating a gold pile. "Oh, my, this is delightful, and I just know you'll simply love Bruno and Myra."
"Bruno and Myra?" Darcy asked, turning toward him.
"Yes. Bruno and Myra are my best friends-the very best. Actually, they live with me quite a bit of the time."
"Oh, like roommates, eh?"
He laughed heartily for a moment, then said, "Well, in a way, yes, the three of us are together a lot, and you'll all love each other, I just know it."
"Well, I didn't expect a party tonight, but I'm game for it," Darcy said. "So, we're off."
"Yes, off-indeed, we are," Kenneth Masters said.
The car zoomed into life, then was jerked away from the curb as if it were motivated by a crazy high school senior, not that institution's assistant principal.
From time to time as they moved through the streets of Sanford, Darcy glanced at Masters. Although she was a youth, attracted to other youths, she had to admit that the assistant principal was very handsome. He was fiftyish, but tall and not at all fat around the stomach like so many of her teachers. Darcy decided that he was distinguished appearing, that that word best described him. And his eyes had a mystery to them that she found very interesting. It was as if they hid true understanding of him, and hid it by means of friendliness and compassion for all whom he encountered. Yes, he was nice, very nice, Darcy decided, and even though her approaching initiation with the Devil Cats had consumed most of her thoughts the past few days, she felt a sudden delight at being in the presence of such a distinguished man as Kenneth Masters. Besides, she needed some relaxation. Lately, she had been much too intent upon the Devil Cats and Zipper Hardy, so intense about them that she had not truly enjoyed herself for a long time. The memory of Zipper Hardy looking at her with accusing eyes when he found her with Ham, then walking away, was painful and had been often recalled to her mind. She wanted it blotted from her mind until she had the opportunity to meet Zipper on his own terms and make her own amends. Kenneth Masters might help her forget, she reasoned.
"Where in the world do you live anyway?" Darcy asked as Masters turned north onto a road that led out of town.
"I have a place in the country," he said. "It's not far from here. I love the country, especially the privacy of it. It's worth almost any inconvenience to live in the country."
"Yes, it is nice out here," Darcy said, looking out the car window, seeing only the shadowy outlines of farm houses and great patches of fields.
"Do you go into the country much?" Masters asked.
"Not as much as when I was kid," Darcy replied. "Then I used to ride my bike into the country as often as I could. But now, well, I don't get as much chance as I once did."
"But surely your boy friends must drive you out on these roads sometimes," he said suggestively. "Heavens-things have changed an awful lot if boys still don't bring pretty girls like you into the country to park for a spell."
Darcy looked at him, then turned and looked out the window again without commenting.
"Ah, ha," Masters declared joyfully. "You're silent, and in this case silence is an admission. See, you do park on these country roads for a little bit of necking."
Darcy breathed deeply and shifted her position so that she could face Masters directly. For a moment, it was hard for her to remember that he was a school administrator, charged with the healthy emotional growth of teenagers. And it was because of this, Darcy decided, that she had to be very careful about any kind of admissions in the presence of Kenneth Masters. A mistrust of school authorities, nurtured through years of school attendance, still prevailed.
"Well, what do you say to that?" Masters asked.
"It's this way, Mr. Masters," Darcy started. "First, it's not called 'necking' any more-it's called 'making-out' today."
"Oh, my, how great," Masters said, chuckling.
"And in the second place," Darcy continued, "kids don't need country roads for their 'making-out.' Some of them even have apartments of their own, and if they don't, well, there's always the beach or motels or any number of places where kids have a heck of a lot more room than in the front seat of a car."
Masters chuckled until he choked. Then he coughed. Then he chuckled again, on a lower, calmer key, until at last he was silent again.
Darcy could not keep from smiling. She was rather proud of the way she had handled the assistant principal's leading questions. It put him in his place.
"Well, well, well," Masters said after a quiet few moments. "You certainly are a little sharpie; you certainly are."
Darcy did not speak again until Masters turned the car into a circular drive that rounded itself in front of an old, very large, three-story farm house.
"My, I didn't know there was such a large place around here," she said. Then: "Do all those barns belong to you, too?"
"Oh, yes," he replied. "And the animals. I love animals. I have many of them."
"Livestock?"
"Not exactly. I'm a. bit more given toward domesticated beasts."
"That's nice. I like dogs and cats, too," Darcy said.
Masters braked the car at the front entrance of the house. They alighted, then, together, walked up the front steps. Masters tried the door, saw that it was locked, then fished a key from his pocket, inserted it in the lock, turned it, and pushed open the heavy, oaken door. Then he stood aside and bid Darcy enter.
She did with a quick, confident step.
"This is the foyer," Masters said, closing the door behind them, then switching on an overhead light.
"It's lovely," Darcy said, looking around.
Indeed it was-and lavish, too. The two love-seats, numerous chairs, tables, lamps, and desk were antique by nature but had been highly polished so that they gleamed their luxuriousness to all who entered the room. The carpeting was expensive, too, very thick and capable of submerging part of Darcy's feet.
"Yes, this is the entrance to my humble dwelling," Masters said, extending both arms to take in all of the foyer.
"Humble, huh," Darcy grumped.
"Any thing or place that one loves is humble," Masters explained. "But come, let's go into the living room."
They did. It, too, was luxurious in furniture, carpeting, draperies, everything that filled the room. Masters motioned Darcy to a seat as he continued across the room in the direction of a bar that was set in one corner. When he reached it, he moved behind it, then leaned on its top and looked at Darcy.
She felt moved to excite him. She crossed her legs, making sure that the skirt lifted well above her thighs, so high, in fact, that the cross of them, one atop the other, created a line of flesh that disappeared high within her skirt, leaving the wonder of a viewer the delightful mystery of where it ended.
Masters stared at her, then cleared his throat.
Darcy leaned forward, placing her books on the floor beside her, at the same time offering a glorious view of her breasts and the crevice that sliced them into beautiful and identical moons. She dallied with the books, at the same time watching Masters and his reaction to the low-slung breast look she offered. His reaction was sufficient to cause her to smile and feel a certain devilish delight in the knowledge that assistant principals were really no different from other men.
"And now, Darcy," Masters said. "Shall we have a cocktail?"
"A cocktail? Why, Mr. Masters!"
He smiled. "Now, don't you go confusing me with the schoolmaster type of principal. I'm hardly that. And I do believe that proper, social drinking is a matter of education, too, that a young person might just as well learn at the beginning how to drink properly, rather than to become confused about it and misuse the purposes of alcohol. So-will you have a drink?"
"Of course," she answered brightly.
"And what is your preference?"
"Anything you care to give me, Mr. Masters, anything at all."
"Ah, fine," he said.
He busied himself with bottles for a few minutes, then, with tray, glasses and a shaker, approached Darcy. He placed the tray on a cocktail table before the couch where Darcy sat, then he seated himself next to her, poured drinks in two glasses from the shaker, replaced it, handed Darcy one glass and took the other himself.
"To your youth," he said, raising his glass and nicking it in her direction. "May it be eternal."
"Yeahhh," she said, drawing the word out in a way that joked at his toast.
Soon, both Darcy and Masters had drained their glasses and replaced them on the tray. Then Masters leaned forward, gripped Darcy's forearm, gave it an affectionate little shake and said, "Now-at last-let's talk, Darcy."
"That's right," she said. "You wanted to talk to me, didn't you." She said it a little faster than she had intended and she knew that the drink had caused it.
"I do, indeed," he answered. He clasped his hands and propped them on his knees.
"Hey, by the way, where's this Bruno and Myra?" Darcy asked suddenly. "You said they'd be here-that you wanted me to meet them."
"They're probably in the back some place," he said. "They'll show up in due time. And believe me, Darcy, I certainly do want you to meet them."
"Oh. Good."
"Now, about the things I wanted to discuss with you, Darcy. As you probably know, an assistant principal at a high school is charged with many responsibilities. Too many, sometimes. But that's our lot and we do the best we can. However, there's a situation that's developed in this town that can get to be quite unpleasant. I'm making it my business to nip things in the bud, so to speak."
"Really?" Darcy asked. She didn't know what Mr. Masters was leading up to, but she did feel that a little encouragement at this point would not hurt a bit. And besides, the drink, which had now settled in her stomach, had begun to glow like a hot coal, igniting her body and making her feel wicked and sensual.
"Yes, unfortunately," Masters said seriously.
"Well, come on, tell me about it. It sounds exciting."
"It is. And, frankly, my own conclusion for this little problem is going to be even more exciting."
"Gosh." Darcy leaned forward, then straightened and sat back in the corner of the couch as she brought her legs up to rest beneath her buttocks. It was a delightful pose she made, one that offered Masters the fullest extent of her seductive body; the breasts practically oozing from her blouse now, the skirt still high above her knees, and with it the tight lines of her hips, buttocks, waist, shoulders-all this that was so lovely, and topped with the auburn hair bouncing at her shoulders, the greenish eyes and red, red mouth.
Masters finished with a new, full view of her as she adjusted to her new position, then said, "You know Rod Baker, I'm sure."
"Yes, I know Rod," she answered.
"And do you also know about the new motor bike and Honda Club Rod has organized?"
"I know about that, too," she said. She hesitated, then, undoubtedly spurred by alcohol, could not resist adding, "As a matter-of-fact I know just about anything you'd care to hear about Rod Baker. I used to date him rather regularly."
"Oh. You mean you don't date him now?"
"I have other things and other people that are going to keep me too busy for Rod boy, I'm afraid."
"Oh," Masters said again. "Well, to go on, Rod has a fair-sized club going now, but he's run into a lot of problems. It seems there's an outlaw motorcycle club which has taken quarters in a beach house by the lake. They're called the Devil Cats, if you can imagine such an outlandish name."
"I can imagine it," Darcy said, sparking to real interest for the first time now that the Devil Cats had been mentioned.
"Well, good. Anyway-but wait here, my dear, let me pour us another drink."
He did, full to the tops of their glasses. They each sipped off a third of the drink before replacing their glasses on the table.
Then Masters started again, saying, "It appears that these rough Devil Cats characters are causing poor Rod all kinds of problems. They're stealing parts off motor scooters; they're harassing the boys when they're in town or out on dates-actually stealing their girl friends some times-causing all kinds of problems."
"What a shame," Darcy offered, wanting to smile but subduing it.
"Yes. But these Devil Cats are about to get their due."
"You're going to sick the police on them, eh?" Darcy asked, all interest, so much interest evident that she was moved to lean far in Masters' direction so that her blouse peeked brazenly open to reveal the hard, red-brown tips of both nipples.
Masters ogled the breasts, the nipples, the open split of blouse, then looked deeply, and longingly, into Darcy's eyes.
She narrowed her eyes, giving him a sensual look. Then, when she had him limp and within her power, she said, "Yes, Mr. Masters, go on; what's going to happen to the Devil Cats?"
It was several moments before he answered. When he did, his voice was strained.
"No, I am not going to instigate a police investigation. I know that in the end results, it'd do no good."
"My goodness," she exclaimed, feigning astonishment. "What in the world are you going to do then?"
"We're going to rumble 'em," he said, slurring the words like a tough guy.
Darcy nearly laughed again. But she did not. Instead she said, "A rumble! You must be joking. Good heavens, you're an assistant principal of a high school, I can't believe that you'd-"
"Wait, wait, wait," he interrupted. "You must remember that I'm an extremely liberal school administrator-so liberal that I know that young fire must be fought with stronger, healthier fire."
"My God!"
"Your surprise doesn't dismay me one bit," he said. "I even surprise myself a little sometimes. Yes, I'm going to see to it that the Devil Cats are defeated on their own home ground-a rumble with Rod Baker's Honda Set Club."
"My God, they'll be killed!" Darcy exclaimed with true, vibrant concern.
"No, I rather suspect that these Cats will leave town before they're exterminated."
"That's not exactly the way I meant it," Darcy said, feeling frustrated.
"Well, nevertheless, that's the plan. What do you think of it?"
"I think it's strange as the dickens that a teacher would be behind such a thing," she said, the words crisp. "My gosh-I can hardly believe it."
"Tut, tut," he tutted. "I'm not the orthodox teacher, you know."
"You certainly aren't" she said, a tinge of admiration circling her words. "Man-wait until the kids hear about this!"
"Oh, oh-I don't want them to know, not any except those who will be directly involved, like Rod Baker and his boys." He paused a moment, then said, "Yes Darcy, I'm a man of direct and dynamic action and I've made up my mind that this is the best way to get rid of the Devil Cats and make the city safe for a nice, pleasant Honda Club."
"But why did you want to tell me about this?" she inquired.
"Very simple. You're the school leader-I want you to lend your enthusiastic support to the boys. You know, be a regular little cheerleader for them. Tell them how proud you are of them-that you know they'll be victorious. Heavens, be the Princess sending the Knights off to battle with your blessings."
"With my blessings," she said softly.
"Of course."
"Well-"
"Good, I knew you'd give us your support."
He beamed upon her, then stretched one arm behind her back and hugged her to him in a movement of good fellowship, one of fatherliness, one remindful of the joy of Princesses sending Knights off to battle.
Darcy allowed the casual embrace. She even enhanced it a bit by cuddling her cheek into Kenneth Master's shoulder and thrusting her body forward enough for her large breasts to make their hot mark against his body. And she did not pull back when his hand slipped a trifle and clutched at her back, winding its way around her to rest just below the lower bulge of one breast. She did not recoil, did not break away, not until she sensed that she was being observed. Then she looked up, saw the two smiling people at the entrance of the room and abruptly disengaged herself from Kenneth Masters' arms.
"Ah, Bruno-Myra-I'm glad you're here," exclaimed Masters, lifting his arm so that Darcy could slide away from him.
Darcy brought both feet to the floor and patted her skirt into place. Then she gave her attention to Bruno and Myra.
At first glance, they looked like dancing partners to Darcy. Both the man and the woman were dressed in black leotards, ballet slippers, and black jersey tee-shirts. They were astounding to behold, almost beyond description, for there was an attitude about them that reminded Darcy of something medieval, like characters from a history book who had suddenly bounded from the pages, replete in the dress and thoughts and customs of the times. Even the way they stood within the framework of the room's entrance seemed odd to Darcy. They smiled, but did not speak. They stood close together, as if they were awaiting another. And their eyes sparked toward Masters in a way that told that he was much more than a host, more even than a favorite friend. Bruno was tall and extremely well-built, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. His thighs showed the muscles of a dancer or athlete. He was very dark of hair, complexion, and bearing. He had shaggy eyebrows, which intensified the darkness of his deep, brown eyes. But, even with the sense of strength about him, his hands were delicate looking, finely tapered and long.
Darcy saw that Bruno's gaze had switched from Masters to herself. She shifted her own view to the girl, Myra.
She looked about twenty-five and the contrast of her fairness next to the dark Bruno was almost terrifying. She had blonde hair that reached below her waist, and Darcy guessed that Myra could sit on it if she wanted. Her body was exquisite. Her dark costume revealed the curves and lines of an exceptional build, one of breasts, neither large-or small, but firm and jutting, of buttocks that jutted, too, and rippled with the slightest movement. Her legs, like Bruno's, were muscled, but because they were long and lean, any roughness that muscles usually conveyed was missing. Myra's mouth was fascinating, too, Darcy decided. Her mouth was wicked, her nose small, her eyes-blue, as nearly as Darcy could tell-slanted in a hint of some Far Eastern race that had to be a lie because of her wondrous fairness.
"Well, come-enter-join us," Masters called to the doorway. "Darcy and I have been waiting for you to join us."
In perfect unity, they stepped forward, crossed the room, then stopped before Masters and Darcy. Masters rose and made the introductions. Darcy nodded to each, then smiled at Masters.
"We've finished the drinks," Masters said. "But I'll make a new batch in just a jiffy."
Darcy looked at him and thought about food. Then she realized that she was no longer hungry, that the drinks had apparently served to quiet her appetite.
Bruno and Myra sat down on the floor in front of Darcy as Masters hurried across the room to make a new round of drinks. Both the man and the woman looked at Darcy, smiling, but neither of them spoke. Neither did Darcy, not until Masters had returned with a new tray of drinks and had retaken his seat next to her.
Then she said. "You two must be dancers."
Myra giggled and Bruno laughed. His voice was high-pitched, but still masculine. Masters laughed, too, then said, "Bruno and Myra, my dear, you will learn, are almost anything and everything in the world that people could possibly be."
"Well, that's nice and confusing," Darcy said. She lifted her glass, sipped from it, decided that the drink tasted a bit different, then raised it high and drank nearly a third of it down in three lady-like swallows.
The others took from their glasses, too.
Now a bit embarrassed for the silence, Darcy smiled and took some more of her drink. She felt a bolt of heat strike her belly. It made her remember the smoking she had indulged in with Ham. She wondered if there were any relationship between Ham's tobacco and Kenneth Masters' drink. Then she didn't care. She finished her drink.
"I think some music would go well about now, don't you?" Myra said to Darcy.
"Oh, yes, I love music," she answered.
Myra pushed up from the floor and moved to where a record player rested against a far wall. After afixing records to the spindle, she turned to join the others. Before she had reseated herself, strange, exotic music filled the room.
New drinks were poured from the shaker by Masters, then the glasses were filled again and still once more. Then a new shaker was filled to capacity, and those drinks, too, were shared by the foursome.
Everything seemed very light and gay to Darcy. Bruno was delightful, Myra was, too, and so was Kenneth Masters-everyone, everything, was just too delightful for words. Darcy giggled a lot at the casual conversation. She knew the drinks encouraged this, but she did not care. She was much too contented, comfortable, and carefree to care about anything but happiness. And with this feeling there came, too, the awareness of Kenneth Masters' closeness, his hand that strayed from time to time to pat at Darcy's arm, her thigh, her shoulder and the wisps of hair that teased at her ears. Even the occasional bump of his body against her breast became commonplace. She even began to like it and started trading touches: the quick grasp of her hand upon his thigh or knee, the exacting turn that wedged her breast to his forearm, all the little tricks and instrumentalities of love-play that were made to seem careless and casual.
Finally, Masters, in a tone that had suddenly turned drunken, said, "Now, about the entertainment, Bruno-did you plan anything special for us this evening?"
"Not really," Bruno said. "But Myra and I were thinking of showing you the new dance we developed. We haven't had an audience yet." He stopped and laughed, then said, "And I doubt this dance ever will have anything but a personal audience."
"Well, fine," said Masters. "I'm anxious to see it."
Darcy sparked to interest too. A dance seemed quite the most unique type of entertainment when there would only be an audience of two.
"Myra-are you ready?" Bruno asked.
"Yes."
The couple moved to the opposite end of the room. Darcy turned her attention to Masters. But when she saw that he stared across the room at Bruno and Myra, Darcy turned too. Then she felt a stab of shock. Both Bruno and Myra had removed their garments. They stood together, naked, and both were busy with something that was out of line with Darcy's vision. When they turned, she saw that both the man and woman held their own long black whip. Darcy felt startled, as if something insane was happening, as if she had become a part of insanity. Next to her, she felt a quiver that told of Masters' excitement at the sight of the naked people with the whips. Darcy knew that Masters was odd, and she had sensed a strangeness in Bruno and Myra, but she had never expected anything like this. Whips! Brutality! Whatever it was they wished to do with them.
Bruno and Myra walked to where Darcy sat with Masters. The woman's breasts jiggled as she moved. Bruno was magnificently built, but Darcy would not let herself look directly at him when he was so close.
"This dance is unique, we think," Bruno said to Darcy and Masters. "It demonstrates some principles of the dance that were once known by certain tribes alone. Through research, we have learned of them. And from them we have learned a great deal about ourselves, our emotions and sensations and the pleasure that a singing whip can give."
As if he had just finished a curtain-call speech-finished it before the performance-Bruno gave them a little bow, then stepped back several paces.
Myra walked to the center of the room and took a position that was as straight as that of a soldier. Bruno took a position across from her.
Upon a signal from Bruno, which was nothing more than the lifting of one eyebrow, both of them raised the whips and slung them madly around their heads, the ends of the whips coming within inches of each other's face. And then they halted the whips. And then they leaped, came close, parted, shimmered their naked bodies in twirling dance steps around the room, doing all of the steps that Darcy recognized as ballet steps, doing them well, too, yet in a manner that suggested the steps, the dance-everything-was merely an excuse to unleash the whips against each other.
Soon, Bruno and Myra ceased their hysterical dance steps. They paused, then moved to the positions they had held at the beginning. Now, Myra drew her whip way back. Its end slapped against the carpeting. Then she snapped it forward. There was a loud, searing sound as the whip struck Bruno at his right hip, tearing the flesh, making blood ooze and bubble, then dribble down his waist and thigh. His face took on an expression of the most delightful thrill. Myra snapped the whip again. This time the end struck him low on the thigh, at such a place that . it made Darcy jerk with shock for the pain that Bruno must have felt. But when she looked at his face, the expression had grown even more intense, more delighted with the stimulation he was receiving. The next time the whip struck him, it was at the other thigh, puddling blood in the middle, making him look like a man who had met the butcher's cleaver. Bruno now breathed very hard. So did Myra. Her body bubbled with perspiration. And her arm became a piston that snapped and resnapped in rapid movements the whip against the naked body of Bruno.
Suddenly, Myra paused. Darcy, shivering now from fear and from something that churned within her own body, was glad they had stopped. But they had not. Now, it was Bruno's turn.
In a hard, lashing forward motion, Bruno crashed the whip across both of Myra's breasts. Instantly, they bled and the ends bent in submission. Then he struck her there again. And again and again and again. Then, even as she received the lash of the whip, Myra made ready to return it, and did with a hard, stinging snap.
Darcy jerked with every stroke as if she were receiving the whip's anger herself. Now, there was no pretense of a dance between Bruno and Myra. Now, they only lashed at each other, striking and bringing forth yelps of pleasure-pain from both their throats. Darcy stared unbelievingly at the bloody sight in front of her. She couldn't believe that it was happening, that she was a witness to it. Nor could she believe that she was really the guest of a high school executive. It seemed impossible-incredible-preposterous! It seemed as if the world had suddenly split open in an obscene gap. And Darcy stood in its middle. She felt panic swamp her. It was different from any she had ever known. It berated at the same time that it teased. It was awful, yet beautiful. She wanted to flee the scene and the room, yet she felt inclined to linger, linger even lazily close to Kenneth Masters.
Suddenly, the singing whips stopped. Bruno and Myra, panting, heaving terribly, dropped their whips on the carpeting. Then they dashed for each other's arms. They embraced, mixing the blood of their bodies together by the hard contact that they made. And then they rolled to the floor. And Myra braced herself in a position of sexual readiness as Bruno hurried to meet her.
Darcy gulped, then turned away when the two bloody creatures came together. Then she leaped from the couch and ran across the room, past Bruno and Myra and into the foyer.
Darcy was turning the knob of the door when Masters reached her.
"My dear, my dear, what's wrong?" he said, pulling her from the door.
"I don't know," she said. "But I have to get out of here fast."
"Now, child, don't be upset. I was led to believe that you were a true liberal-really..."
"I'm not. I want to go home," she cried.
"But I had plans for you-for me-. "
"Forget them. I have to go."
Kenneth Masters looked at her for what seemed a long time. Then, with a sigh of resignation, he opened the door and followed Darcy into the night.
Once in the car, Darcy crouched in the corner. She was afraid, not of Masters or Bruno or Myra
-just terribly afraid of her own feelings-feelings that she did not understand-feelings that she was desperately afraid would be tapped and tormented the next night when she stood before the Devil Cats to meet their initiation.
CHAPTER 6
Delighted giggles issued through the living room of the beach house as Zipper Hardy, an arm around each of the girls, pressured them close, jammed both Terry and Dottie as close to his front as possible.
"Man, what in the world's come over you?" Dottie exclaimed. "You've hardly noticed us since we've been cruising with you Cats-and now-man-. "
"What's come over me doesn't mean a damn," Zipper mumbled. "What matters is now-and you two alone in this damn house with me."
"That's great with me," Terry replied. "Just great."
To show how great it was with her, Terry lifted her mouth, parted her lips, then took Zip's dashing tongue as soon as he bent and smothered her with a kiss.
For a moment, Dottie watched them, quite intrigued by the play of their tongues upon each other. But then her expression became disturbed looking. She thrust her hips close to Zip, close to Terry, too, for both girls cuddled at his front, then snaked her hand behind him and gripped at his hard-muscled back.
Soon, Zip pushed both of the girls away from him.
"Hey, don't stop now," complained Terry. "I'm not planning on stopping," Zip said sternly.
Indeed he wasn't. Zip, since interrupting Ham and Darcy at the end of their intense act of love, had turned savage in his own desires. He wasn't sure what had caused it, but he knew that it was concerned with some break in idealism that he had built into the image of Darcy Williams. And this idealism in turn had been a part of his growing discontent for the Devil Cats, for the members, for the club itself and for the futility toward which they steamed. Suddenly, seeing Darcy, whom he had built into the image of his desire, with Ham-frantically with Ham-crushed all thoughts and dreams he had had of the pretty, auburn-haired high school girl. As if to seek an antidote for his feelings, Zip had turned mean and savage and constantly on the prowl for sexual encounters-with any and all with whom he came into contact. And now it was Terry and Dottie.
Dottie took a step backward. Zip acknowledged that it was a very pretty step indeed, for she was dressed in nothing but a short terry cloth robe, and the movement caused a flash of lovely bare thighs.
"Come on," Terry begged, locking her arms around Zip's neck. "Come on-we were playing-let's not stop."
"I'm only beginning," he growled.
His eyes lowered to pass over Terry's body, nude, except for the very skimpiest of bikini swimsuits. He liked the way the bra-top dipped in such a way as to reveal her hard, pressing nipples. And he liked the indentation of her navel, below which the suit swooped terrifyingly low.
Teasingly, Dottie fastened her hand to the bow of the belt circling her robe. Then she said, "Hell, Zip, maybe you better wait until one of the boys gets back-two of us are probably more than old red-beard can stand."
"Not you two," he said.
"You've gotta prove it, baby."
"No, I don't. But I will."
"Promises, promises, promises," Terry added.
Zip spun around and quicker than she could move a half step his hand lashed out, caught the front of her bra and zipped it from her body.
"Hey, not so rough," she declared. Her breasts jiggled at him as if they, too, scolded.
He only grinned, his eyes narrowing in a mean stare.
"You know, we've got a problem," Dottie said, placing her hands on her hips. "One of us is bound to get jealous-at least for a little while."
"Well, I hope it's not going to be me," Terry said, starting to put her arms around Zip again before he stepped back a pace.
Dottie had dropped one hand to her side and began playing with the ends of the terry cloth belt. Then she gave it a quick twist, tightening it in a way that pressured the robe against her breast. Her face took on an odd expression; then she gave the belt another tightening tug.
"Hey, you know what?" she said to Zip and Terry.
"Yeah," said Terry, smiling. "I know that if Zip doesn't stop teasing I'm going to bust."
He looked at her and thought how stereotyped she was, how very much she was like every girl who had come to ride with the Devil Cats. Then he looked at Dottie and considered that she, like Terry, like all the others, was so similar to every girl who became attracted to the Cats because of their desire for thrills. And he, for the barest moment, thought how sad it was, and again he thought of Darcy and experienced a very decided pain at his chest. Then he knew that he must subdue it, get rid of it by any means available. And the available means were Dottie and Terry.
"Yeah, so, what have ya been thinking?" he asked Dottie.
"That I'd like to try that bit Itchy and Lil were so involved in the other night."
"That doesn't do anything for me," Terry protested.
"And I'm hardly the type," Zipper added.
"But maybe with Terry-with both of us-well, what the hell, why don't we find out?"
"All right, what the hell," Terry agreed.
"Yeah, what the hell-what the hell for anything," Zip said.
Terry, minus her bra, Dottie, in a terry cloth robe, and Zipper, attired in his usual jeans and tee-shirt, exited the room, went through the dining room and entered a kind of sun porch. Although all of the house showed a lack of housekeeping, was littered with beer cans, loaded ash trays, odd pieces of clothing, and the general elements of total disarray, the sun room was quite neat. It contained a couch, a table that looked as if it had been secured from a gymnasium, where it had been used for rub-down purposes, several chairs, and against one wall, a huge, closed cabinet.
Zip glanced at Terry and noticed that a change had come over her expression. Her eyes had narrowed sensually, and a firmer bounce had come to her naked breasts. The ends of them had alerted and pointed ahead like beacon lights. Dottie, too, upon entering this back room, had changed. Her breasts heaved vigorously, much as if the room created memories from which her body took sexual fuel.
The three of them stopped in the middle of the room.
"Well, let's get with it," Zip said, looking at Dottie.
"Don't be so cold," she complained. "When you put it into words it-well, it kind of cools me."
"Me, too," Terry agreed.
Upon this statement, Terry walked close to Zip, reached out and took both his hands, then raised them to cup over both her breasts.
"You can start right here," Terry said. "And, baby, that should help Dottie too."
Zip cuddled the flesh within his palms. He squeezed, then released the flesh, then brought his thumb and forefinger to the tips and rolled them between his fingers, feeling their heat, their firmness, the thousands of tiny crack-like pores that crisscrossed them like a map.
While Dottie watched, Terry enjoyed the caresses. She leaned her head back and shut her eyes, strained so far backward that her neck cords tightened and bloated. And the pose was one that offered more of herself for Zip's investigative fingers. Her hair cascaded about her shoulders, and Zip, although he felt a certain detachment, admitted to himself that she was an exotic sight, one of gross and anxious promiscuity.
Zip massaged at her breasts. The stimulation that he felt was different from that which he had once enjoyed. Now, passion came as an antidote, filled him with a heat that had come from obedience more than from genuine desire. But it was enough, he knew very well, enough to make him rage and storm and pump and conquer any woman that was offered-any that was not offered, too.
"Ummmmmm, Jeeeez, you two are getting to me," Dottie said.
She moved next to them. Then she lifted her face toward Zip to receive the kiss that she had thus far only observed.
Zip brought his hands away from Terry's breasts. As she brought her head forward, he turned from her and clutched out at Dottie's pressing, terry cloth-attired body.
Their mouths clashed sharply. Even the tiny clink of teeth could be heard as they fought for the adjustment that would allow room for their tongues to frolic and dive, to twist and turn and wiggle in excitement.
Dottie made a dagger of her tongue. It shot forward and Zip received it with a heavy draw. It was sweet, but tangy. It nicked at his underlip, cuddled against his teeth, then shot in and out at a frantic pace. And then they traded the attack, and it was Zip's turn to nick and tuck and whirl and thrust.
Observer Terry became impatient. She moved behind Zip, pushed her bare breasts forward, then wound her arms around the boy's waist as she pressed herself hard against his back. Gently, she moved from side to side as the long kiss between Zip and Dottie continued. But soon she became impatient. She broke her singular embrace, took the bottom of Zip's tee-shirt, then raised it high to his neck. Then she renewed the contact of her flesh to his. She did it lightly, swinging her shoulders from side to side, bracing herself with her hands on his shoulders, and nicking her hard nipples against his bare back as she swung. Sometimes she moved fast, other times she slowed, but always there was the rat-a-tat-tat of her heavy, swinging breasts against his back, adding a new area of excitement even as he knew the passion of the other girl's mouth.
Abruptly, Zip pulled away. And suddenly, as if a bolt of lightning had struck him, he saw himself as a phony. He didn't like this, wasn't enjoying it at all, was only being sexual and pursuing because of thoughts of Darcy Williams, because, to his mind, she had offended him by being with Ham. She had been built so lavishly in his mind. She was so adored there, even without his knowing her. And then...
"Come on," Terry complained. "What's the matter with you, anyway?"
Zip turned from the girls. "Go on and play with each other if you want. I'm going for a walk."
He heard their astonished gasps behind him as he walked out of the room, through the other rooms, and finally out the front door and into the night.
For a few moments, Zip stood listening to the lap of the lake. Then he lit a cigarette and dragged heavily upon it. But the taste was bad. He threw it away, flipping it with a snap of his fingers that made it arch like a rocket, then shatter into pieces as it landed.
Nothing seemed good to him anymore, Zip thought to himself. Not the Cats, the cruising, the janes, the rumbles-nothing.
Slowly, Zip walked toward the lake. His mind moved again to Darcy and he wondered why a girl, a very pretty girl who had everything a teenager should have, wanted to become a Devil Cat. Prestige, he guessed, something to talk about in front of the other high school kids. But why? She didn't need that. Nobody needed that kind of nonsense. Nonsense? he asked himself, then replied affirmatively, thinking that he had finally admitted to himself that his life for some time now had been nonsense. A waste. It was as if his interest in the Cats and capers and all the rest was a defense against a better life that he could lead. For a moment he thought of himself as a student, as one who perhaps attended the same school that Darcy attended. He wondered how he would make out, if he could succeed in a life that was closer to normal. He wondered. Then he shook his head, banishing the thought, feeling that it was much too ridiculous for him to consider, too far removed from the life he lived. A feeling of gross disappointment engulfed him and remained with him as he walked the lonely beach.
CHAPTER 7
The bonfire blazed at the most secluded area of the beach and Darcy Williams stood with her back to it, thinking how much it seemed that she was in Hell-that she was there facing the Devil Cats for judgment.
"Turn around again, baby," one of the Cats yelled out.
Obediently, Darcy turned in a circle, displaying her body for all to view. She had selected a light summer dress for her initiation. It had been a good choice but a garment of short duration, for the first command that she obeyed was to disrobe. She had done so, down to nothing but bikini panties and bra. And now the Cats viewed her in this skimpy attire, watching how the tongues of fire lashed at her and mixed with her auburn hair in a way that made her seem a part of the fire itself, a kind of fire-born being who had been created by flames.
"Again, turn around again, you goddamn little recruit," one of the girl Cats ordered. "And this time drop that bra and let us see what you've really got."
A series of cheers issued from the other Cats.
Darcy faced straight ahead. She reached both arms behind her, unhooked the bra, then let it float to the sandy beach. Her breasts trembled. She was very aware of it, and she wondered if it came from the fear that she felt at the pit of her stomach or if it was only a result of the night's cool breeze. Her nipples elongated. They turned hard and cracked and became more red than brown.
Slowly, as sensually as she could make herself appear, she turned in a circle again. Through the reddish-black wall that was created between her and those who watched her, Darcy could see the leering, rather evil faces of the Devil Cats. She did not see them as individuals but rather as a group-a group invested with the responsibility of judgment. As her eyes passed over them while she turned, then circled again and again, Darcy considered how quickly she had given up all feeling of competition. It amazed her that now she did not think of besting Terry and Dottie, who had already proved their value to the Devil Cats. She no longer wanted to defeat them. She didn't even care whether or not she was found acceptable by the motorcycle group. She was by the fire, suffering her initiation for one purpose alone-to make the opportunity to be with Zipper Hardy, to meet him, be with him and determine why it was she so longed for him.
When her back was to the Cats and she faced the fire, Darcy wondered why all the other desires were gone, why so no longer welcomed a combat for supremacy as a Devil Cat recruit. She could not find the answer, but she guessed that it had something to do with her night with Kenneth Masters, Bruno, Myra and the black, snarling whips.
"All right, recruit, drop those panties," a voice, stern in quality, called from the group.
Darcy felt a jam at her chest. Unmistakably, the voice belonged to Zipper Hardy. She felt excited. She had even feared that he might not be present for the initiation. Rumors were that he was discontented as leader of the Cats, that he wanted out and would happily bequeath his responsibilities to Ham. But Zipper's voice reassured her.
"I said to get out of those goddamn things," Zipper hollered out again.
Darcy bent. Her breasts felt heavy and filled as she leaned over and pushed her panties from her waist to her thighs, then to her knees, and finally to her ankles.
Cheers rose high as she straightened and faced forward again. Obviously, all of her body, naked and bathed in fire, excited the audience to a high degree. Darcy could not help feeling rather pleased about it, but the surge for competition and even attainment was long gone from her heart.
"Turn, recruit, turn around again," Zipper
Hardy instructed from some back row of Devil Cats.
Darcy added a little swing to her hips this time she circled. And as she moved she felt the flames' of the bonfire leap at her buttocks and thighs, heat her and mix with the natural heat that coursed through her body. And she felt her breasts grow even heavier, almost sag from weight, and she realized that this, too, was a new experience for her. And for a moment she wondered why she bothered with it at all. She already had seen all the perversion she cared to see. She had already committed her body to indignities that were sufficient for any single lifetime. Yet she turned, undulated her body in presentation, allowed her auburn hair to shake wildly at her shoulders as she stood more erect for a better showing of all her body. Why? she asked herself, why? She had her answer. The red-bearded Zipper Hardy-he was the cause. She was committed to some final resolution of the initiation and her intrigue for the boy.
"All right, recruit," Zipper said in a stern voice. "Stand still and face the Devil Cats."
Darcy obeyed. Her heartbeat quickened.
"Now, what are your qualifications for membership in the Cats?" Zip asked.
"Many," she replied.
There was laughter; then Zipper said, "None I see are enough. Come on-what are your qualifications?"
Darcy's mind raced. She had not expected a grilling. It seemed inconceivable that the Devil Cats could really be interested in qualifications, any, that is, except those of flesh and lust.
"Talk," another voice shouted. Darcy thought it was the big Negro, Ham.
"Well, I can-. "
Her voice halted. Her mind raced anew. What was it that she could say that might in some way catch Zipper Hardy's interest? What?
"Talk, goddamn it," Zipper hollered out again.
"Well, I have some important news for the Devil Cats." Darcy suddenly stated, feeling inspiration and importance.
"Oh, goodie, she's a regular little commentator," a girl's voice giggled.
The Devil Cats roared.
"Hell, she ain't no commentator," another voice declared. "She's a squealer."
The Cats thought this was very funny too.
"All right, we'll listen," Zip said, raising his voice above the dying snickers of the crowd. "What's the information you have for the Devil Cats?"
"There's going to be a rumble-you're going to be run out of town," she answered quickly.
The laughter that burst from the crowd like a rupturing balloon frightened Darcy. It was so intense; it laughed so much at her statement, that she feared its consequences.
When it quieted, Zipper Hardy said, "Well, we always need a little laugh. So, you are a pretty good comic."
"I'm not," Darcy complained, feeling angry. "What I just said is the truth."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah-we know," a voice joked.
"Sure, we're scared as all hell," another said.
"Chicken-you don't know us. Why the hell do you think the fuzz even leave us alone," someone else told her.
"Yeah, look here," Zipper continued. "It's all right that you try to amuse us a little at this initiation, but, baby, we can't stand for somebody to make out like we're stupid or something."
"I'm telling you the truth," she protested, breathing deeply, causing her breasts to thrust outward, their nipple-tips waving as if in salutation to all those in front of her.
"Okay, we'll finish the joke," Zipper said. "Just how, please tell us, are we-the Devil Cats-going to be run out of town?"
"By another gang," Darcy said simply.
There was a moment's silence. Then there was a mumble of many voices conversing. Darcy listened to it and felt satisfaction for all that she had said. Surely, she reasoned, Zipper would feel gratitude for the information she had brought him.
"What gang?" Zipper suddenly asked. "A gang right here in Sanford," she explained. "There ain't no gangs in Sanford-none but us," Darcy heard Ham say.
"Yeah, 'course there ain't," Zipper said. His voice was lower, as if he had turned and faced Ham to impart this agreement.
"Oh, yes there is," Darcy said.
"What's the name? What's the gang called?" Zipper asked.
"It's the Honda Set at Sanford High," she said.
If Darcy had thought the previous laughter was strong, if she had felt some embarrassment at being the subject of ridicule, she knew that it was nothing compared to the shouts and laughter, curses, long squeals of disdain, and the heavy chorus of guffawing that now issued from the group. The night rocked with laughter, with jokes of intimidation between individuals, with more shouts, more laughter, more and harsher and longer giggles of ridicule for Darcy's statement.
"But it's the truth," she cried, stomping one foot. Her breasts jiggled, making the ends seem like precious stones.
The laughter continued. She could not make herself heard above the din created by the Devil Cats. Angrily, she hooked her hands on her hips and turned, looking over all of the faces she could see: Itchy, Terrible Jones, Joe, Ham, and Dottie and Terry in the first row. Then she looked beyond them to the fiery blaze of faces stationed at the rear. Some place in that row, Zipper Hardy also laughed and joked and made fun of her statement. Darcy strained to see him, but could not. But in another moment she heard his voice again.
"All right-all right, let's quiet down and get on with this initiation." He paused as the other voices quieted, then he continued, saying, "Well, recruit, that's pretty terrible news you bring us-terrible, that is, if we believed it, but we don't, so what does that make you?"
"It makes me an awful good friend of the Devil Cats because it's the truth," she firmly protested.
Zip uttered a chuckle and through it said, "Honey, you're a wild one. In the first place it's just too far out to think that your cute little Honda group could do a damn thing to us. But in the second place, it's just so damn far out that we can't believe it."
"But it's the truth," Darcy said again. "Mr. Masters told me about it during a-well, a very personal conversation."
"Mr. Masters?" Zip questioned. "Who the hell is that?"
"The assistant principal at the school," Darcy heard Terry explain through her giggles. "Man-that's just too much, Cats. Little Darcy Williams has gone off her rocker-but good."
Darcy stared in Terry's direction. She felt totally frustrated, something like one who reports to unbelieving police that a murderer has stalked her.
Darcy took a new deep breath and faced in the direction of Zipper Hardy's voice. Then she said, "Well, it doesn't matter to me whether you believe me or not. But it's the truth. Masters has organized the Honda Set, and he's getting them ready to rumble the Cats. They've been mad about the Cats stealing their bikes and parts and girls. Masters-he's a real kook-wants them to meet the Cats on their home ground-in a rumble-and get rid of you, chase you out of Sanford."
"My, my," Zipper said, pretending fright. "This just shakes me all up. I'm just knocking at the knees."
"Yeah, I'm a-just a-tremblin' all over," Ham declared in a big, heavy voice.
"I think I'll scream with fear," Dottie laughed.
"And another thing," Zip said. "Why in the hell would this Masters tell you about it?"
"He wanted me to kind of be a cheerleader for the group-you know, give them encouragement and stuff," Darcy explained.
A figure that Darcy immediately identified as that of Ham walked close, then stopped, only a few feet away from where she stood, naked and exposed to them all. Ham was chuckling.
"Stuff-that's what the old man wanted you to give 'em, eh, honey?" Ham said. "Well, man-maybe in that you can qualify."
"Okay, let's stop all this jazz about a rumble with that group of queerie boys," Zipper announced. "Let's get on with the initiation."
"That's why I've walked up close to the little recruit," Ham said, turning toward Zip, whom Darcy saw suddenly emerge from the crowd.
She looked from the big Negro with the open red-leather jacket, to Zipper, who wore jeans and a denim jacket. She sought to see if anything showed in his eyes that would put her at ease, make her know that sooner or later they would be together by his desire, his will, and that he wanted to know her. But there was nothing.
"Okay, chief, what's the first step in this little ol' initiation?" Ham asked.
Zip hesitated a moment. During it, Darcy hoped-and was quite sure-that he thought of her, of some way that he himself might know the benefit of her body without first willing her to the other Devil Cats. But when he spoke, she felt total disillusionment.
"Take your turns-whatever you want," Zip said. His voice had lowered and softened.
Ham leaped in front of Darcy. A big smile split his black face. The bonfire sent its tongues lapping at his face and at the black exposure of his skin between the parted middle of his jacket.
"Well, I'm first, Chief," Ham said.
"Go ahead," Zip instructed.
"Well, I got a little something special," Ham said, turning toward Darcy. "I got a little gimmick that will test a recruit's ability to stand torture-you know, just in case those Honda kooks decide to brain wash one of our gang."
Laughter, wild and loud, split the darkness of the night.
Darcy looked straight at Ham. She remembered how he had been when she was with him. Then she remembered the aphrodisiacally-centered cigarette she had shared with him. Now, Ham merely looked at her, grinning, holding one hand behind his back. He stood to one side of her. Darcy turned and faced him.
"Okay, little ol' recruit," he said. "Stand on those sweet little piggies of yours-stand up real nice and tall on your tippie-toes and throw those little arms of yours way up over your heady-head."
New laughter broke out from the group. Some shouts of encouragement for Ham erupted too.
Darcy did as she was told. She raised her arms over her head, clasped her hands together, then tightened the total stretch of her body by rising to her toes. She felt her body grow taut, and the position intensified the feelings that growled within her. Her breasts, although they flattened a bit because of her position, still felt bloated. And the nipples hurt because of their tautness. It was as if they had cracked from heat and passion. And Darcy could actually feel the sliding lines of her hips as she stretched to the sky. Although she stared straight ahead and could not see them, she knew that they swooped in perfect, moulding lines to her thighs. Her thighs-here intense heat had centered itself. She burned, even as she acknowledged that the heat would multiply many times before the night had ended. A slight tremble had come to her knees, Darcy noticed. She could not determine if it had come from fear or from the high-reaching position she had taken. And within her there was also a tremble. It was at her belly. She knew the origin of this feeling. It was of anxiety, less for what the Devil Cats might do to her-in a flashing thought she recognized that she had already in her life done almost everything-than because of the real and urgent need she felt for an encounter with Zipper Hardy.
"Very pretty," Ham said, looking up and down the length of her. "Now, let's see how still you can be while I do a little tickling."
The words did not make sense to Darcy-not until Ham brought his hand in front of him and she saw that it held a long feather duster.
Giggles and shouts and delighted laughter bubbled from the Devil Cats like approaching thunder.
Darcy shivered when she viewed the feather duster. She could almost imagine the caress it would make on her naked body. She did not find it at all disagreeable.
Ham stepped close and Darcy stretched a little higher. She half-faced the group from her right side. She knew that she made an exceptional and very erotic picture with her belly flat, her breasts puffed out, her thighs tight, and all of it framed with the background of the blazing bonfire. She hoped that Zip was observing the curves and swoops and pretty little crevices of her body. She hoped he wanted to know them-all of them.
Lightly, delicately, like an artist, Ham brought the very tiny ends of the feathers against Darcy's neck. They felt like a billion ants converging upon a hill of honey-and her body was the honey they sought. Ham played the duster against her neck, lightly, back and forth, every so often dipping low to the very topmost portion of her breasts, then rising to the neck again, even to her chin, where he tickled beneath it as if he were making friends with a dog.
Darcy's body heated even more. She wanted to churn and turn and twist to avoid the tickling ends of the feathers. But she did not. She remained firm in her place before the Devil Cats. But she tightened the grip of her hands upon each other.
Ham brought the feathers lower, moved them back and forth across Darcy's collarbone. And again he teased the feathers low, brought them to the beginning of the hollow between her large breasts, played them there incessantly, fluffing the feathers out when he pushed it close, then bringing the duster far back so that she could only know the very ends of the feathers. Again and again he swooped at her breasts, but did not fully touch them. And the closeness, the utter closeness that was always withheld, sent her to moaning lightly, to undulating her body in a tiny circle that was meant to cram herself to the feathers, to bring them into vibrant contact with her full breasts and their nipples. But Ham always denied it, brought the teasing feathers elsewhere upon her body-at her shoulders, her arms, even up high to where her hands were clasped above her head, and several times, crouching low and slinking behind her, he played the feathers at the small of her back. Here, as he had done with her breasts, he teased as meanly as a sadistic court jester. Again and again he brought the feather ends to the very top of the crevice that separated her round, moon-like buttocks.
Twice Darcy cried out in real desire. Twice she was denied the further, deeper, tickling contact of the feather duster. And each time she cried out her plea for closeness, the Devil Cats erupted into a roar of laughter. Once, Darcy thought she heard Zip's voice among the others. She was not sure. She hoped it was not true.
Ham paused and brought the feather duster to a rest in his hanging hand. Then he grinned and began tickling at her neck again. But this time he meant to offer greater excitement. He dropped the point of his caress to the very hollow between Darcy's breasts. He caressed the feathers up and down, grooming back and forth while he held the spread of the feathers in a closer pattern so that only the ends tickled at the hollow, so that they did not reach out and touch at the round outlines of her breasts.
Darcy shook her shoulders madly, thrashing her breasts from side to side as she sought the caress of the feathers. She strained and held her high-stretched position, but she shook as if she was in a convulsion, as if her very life depended upon contact with the feathers. But Ham was quick and deft. He sprayed her with the feathers, but only within the hollow of her breasts, never, not even for a second, upon the breasts themselves or upon the nipples that stretched like frantic fingers. Darcy groaned and moaned and made mad, rolling dice of her large breasts, but still Ham denied her full contact, still he grinned and chuckled and kept the feather duster away from her whirling flesh.
Darcy thought she would surely explode. She felt the separate parts of her body-her thighs and belly, breasts, shoulders, calves, knees, toes, fingers, ears, all of her auburn hair-erupt in new heat, new desire in great, body-stammering ripples of excitement. And she thought that she would split into fragments like a grenade, burst and throw out particles of flesh at the enemies she faced. But she did not. Nor did any calming come to her when Ham again paused and looked at all her body, at the great, great torment he had caused her.
Darcy's fingers, entwined within each other, dug in anxiety, in rapture, and in great, great expectation during the pause Ham had brought to their terrifying exhibition of sexual teasing. She felt cuts come upon her fingers from her other fingers as she wound them into a knot, as she joined them fiercely in her attempt at discipline so that she would maintain the position she had been committed to, so that she would not reach out, grab the feathers and crush them upon her body. Her expression turned to one of effort as if she were withstanding a severe beating-or as if she were withstanding the assault of a million man-fingers and tongues upon her naked body.
Darcy tightened her grip when Ham approached with the feather duster again.
Acting as a comic, the big Negro bent in front of Darcy and stared closely at her body, moving from her breast ends to her belly to her navel to her thighs, then up a bit, eyeing her as if he looked for response to the feathers on her agonized flesh. There was, too. Darcy pulsated violently, exuding droplets of passion. And she could not help it, could not control it, for the tickling feathers upon her body had brought her to a summit of desire.
But still its accomplishment was denied her.
Ham extended the feather duster a bit, then paused. Then he grinned. Then he struck the feathers forward so that they were less than an inch away from her popping nipples. Darcy arched her breasts forward, but it was no good. Quickly, Ham withdrew the feather duster. But in a moment, he brought it close again, paused, then, at last, brought the very tiniest ends of the feathers into a light caress of her nipples, moving them back and forth and up and down, then in a crazy circle that daubed at them as if he were an artist applying the very smallest dot of paint, a dot so small that it might not be seen by an observer.
Ham played the feathers upon her breast ends as if he would never stop, never in a million years. He moved them back and forth, from one to the other, then back again, then across in a faster motion, then very slowly at the very point of them in a motion that was lighter than the fall of any one of the single feathers. He titillated her nearly beyond endurance. And her body undulated and twisted crazily in response. And now, her stomach began to indent and expand, pulsate in and out as if it all by itself screamed for the attention of the feathers.
Ham paused and watched Darcy's moving, crawling, demanding, but still-disciplined body. And now, strangely, he did not grin or offer a sly comment. He was sober and intent upon the movements of her body, much as if he watched the maneuvers of a serpent beneath a glass cage. And the Devil Cats had grown quiet, too. Hardly a sound from them was heard. An occasional and self-conscious cough. A whisper. The shuffle of feet upon the sand. A frequent deep breath taken into lungs. And the lap of the big lake's waves against the shore a hundred yards away. The rustle of leaves at the tops of trees several more hundred yards away. And the slight whistle of the breeze. Only this, and nothing more.
It seemed an interminable time before Ham gave any sign of movement. During the lull, Darcy had the impression that she was the only living thing in the world, the only one who moved and breathed and whimpered and cried and yearned for a sign of life from others. And she was alive, so intensely alive that it seemed akin to death.
Ham, now sober-faced and intent, extended the feather duster in front of him. He rumpled it vigorously against the fullness of Darcy's left breast.
"Yes, yes, yes," she whispered.
She kept her hands tightly clasped above her head, even remained high on her toes as she gently arched her large breasts outward to the benefit of the tickling feathers.
Ham was generous to her left breast. He splayed the feathers out as he crashed the duster fully and directly to her. And when she twisted her body again, offering her other breast for the same attention, he gave it, first dug the middle of the feather duster deeply upon her breast, completely covering it, then bringing it back to tip and tap with the feather ends.
Finally, when a new expression crossed Darcy's face, when she looked as if the tease of feathers alone might bring her to sexual completion, Ham stopped the action.
Darcy convulsed a new plea. Her tightly stretched hands dug new blood from palm and fingers. Her stomach rippled a silent chant of horrible desire. But Ham was undaunted by the gyrations of her body. He looked at her impassively, the feather duster hanging loosely in his hand.
The pause extended into eternity. And finally when Darcy thought that she could not stand delay another instant, a voice boomed out through the stillness of the night.
"For Crissakes-don't keep her waiting any longer-and that's an order."
It was Zipper Hardy who had spoken out in her behalf. Darcy felt a new ripple of thrill race throughout her body, and it was caused by more than the anticipation of the next move of feathers upon her body. It came from gratitude-perhaps even love-for the Devil King of Devil Cats.
Ham crashed the feather duster against both her breasts, massaging them vigorously, no longer teasing but allowing her the full extent of thrill that could be realized. Then, after a few moments of intense caress, he brought the feathers to the very middle of her tight belly. Here, he turned delicate again. Carefully, he tickled the feather ends over all her belly. Then he withdrew them for a moment before bringing a new, light contact at her navel. Lightly, he massaged, making the indentation of her navel wrinkle and jump inward until it turned into a mere slit, a slice of her total bareness. And then he again stopped the action.
A hush stiller than the night itself settled over all of the Devil Cats again. Now, the only sound was Darcy's heated hissing-that, and the almost indistinguishable stammer of her breathing and her body movements as she continued to twist and turn in desire.
Darcy was sure that she was at the end of her endurance. She doubted that she could stand another moment of torment. And then, suddenly, she knew that she was saved from it.
"That's all, Ham," she heard Zipper Hardy announce.
Ham, breathing hard, turned and looked in the direction of his leader.
"I said that's all," Zipper repeated.
"Man, you must be off your beanie, or something."
"I'm not," Zipper told him.
"But, jeez, man, I'm just-"
"The initiation's over. It's over right now," Zip said. "We're fooling around like a bunch of kids-it's over, damn it, over for this Jane right now. Get it."
"No, I don't get it," said big Ham, drawing himself up taller.
"You'd better get it," Zip warned.
"All I'm a-gonna get is her," Ham shouted.
The big Negro made a dive for Darcy. Zip stopped him with a quick grip at the arm. He swung Ham around. He stepped back, but only for a moment. Then Ham swung a mighty fist in the direction of Zip's head. Zip sidestepped it, then smashed his right fist into the Negro's belly, bending him over for a moment before Zip's left uppercut straightened him and sent him reeling on his back to the ground. Ham moaned. Unconcernedly, Zip moved to Darcy.
"Pick up your clothes and get them on, damn it," Zip growled at her.
Darcy bent over and picked up her clothes. Suddenly embarrassed, and terribly thrilled by Zip's intervention, she brought the clothes to her front, concealing part of her nakedness. She wondered what was going to happen-what Zip now intended to do with her.
And then, as if the skies had burst to provide her answer, there was the sound of motorcycle engines roaring from the road toward the bonfire on the beach.
The Devil Cats knew a moment of utter silence. Then somebody said, "The chick was right-it's a rumble!"
Suddenly, there was a fury of movement, and above it there was Zip's voice, shouting orders, telling them to disperse, to get with it, to go get them. And then there was the feel of his strong fingers circling her arm.
"Come on, you've gotta get out of here," he said.
He pushed her a few paces down the beach, then turned and looked at Ham, who had risen to his knees.
"Up and at 'em, Ham," Zip said. "Get the gang organized-I'll be right back. Till then, you're in charge. Go get 'em, Ham."
Ham, a bit wobbly, rose to his feet. He grinned at Zip, then moved to take charge as Zip hurried Darcy down the beach and away from the scene of the rumble.
Zip did not give up his hold on Darcy's arm until they had reached a deserted boat house at the edge of the lake. Then he paused at its entrance, moved his hand to her shoulder, and gave her a strong push, sending her flying inside, flat upon the sand but within a shelter that would shield her from battle.
"Hey," she complained as she sprawled upon the sand bottom of the boat house.
"Just stay there," he ordered. "Stay there and don't move until this is over. I'll be back-maybe."
Zip turned and sprinted in the direction of roaring motors, shouts, screams, cries, curses, and the general confusion of a brawl that would not end until there was a victor and a vanquished.
Darcy looked after the running night-shadow of him. Despite the seriousness of the fight, she could not help smiling.
CHAPTER 8
Within five minutes of the first sound of combat, the noise grew so loud, so intense, and was intermingled with so many shouts and calls, screams, yells, and the sound of motors and men, that Darcy could not bear to remain in concealment at the deserted boat house another minute.
She pushed away from where she had been sitting on the cool sand. She went to the entrance of the boat house, paused, took another few steps, then stopped and looked around. There was no one in her immediate vicinity. She looked toward the bonfire and saw flashes of bodies grappling and the gleam of chrome from dozens of motorcycles and Hondas. It was toward these that she carefully made her way, still nude, her body swaying a bit, her breasts very heavy. She bent over in a crouch in order to take advantage of the sand dunes as she passed them. The sound of battle grew louder, nearly blistered her ears by the time she attained a close view of the fight from around the edge of a small dune. As soon as she reached it, she fell forward, knees to ground first, belly cuddling the sand as she fell, using her elbows for support. She looked around the edge of the sand dune, then raised brazenly to view all that was happening.
It took several long seconds for Darcy's eyes to adjust to the flames of the fire and to the rapid action. But when they did adjust, she viewed a combat that would do justice to the Green Berets. By twos, threes, and fours, boys wrestled, boxed, slugged, used tire irons on each other and flashed the gleaming edges of knifes. Darcy recognized many of the boys. She saw Rod Baker making a real account of himself-one she had not considered him capable of performing-against two of the Devil Cats. When one of the Cats achieved a hold upon Rod's arms and pinned them behind his back as the other Cat approached to place a well-aimed kick at Rod's groin, he shifted his weight, flung the behind-Cat over his shoulder, then timed a crashing uppercut to the attacking Devil Cat's throat. The cat clutched his neck, gurgled, then fell face forward in a direction exactly opposite to that of his mate, who had landed on his back after sailing briefly through the air. Quickly, Rod looked around for a new enemy. He found him a dozen paces away. He ran, then leaped to the new assault.
Darcy turned from Rod Baker and darted her eyes through the crowd looking for Zip. When she saw him, she could not prevent the scream from escaping her lips.
Zip was on his back, flat on the sand. A large rock had just nicked at his forehead, and he had drawn his arm across it as a large man in front of him descended with a knife, poised ready to make its mark.
Darcy screamed again as the knife started its downward plunge. But just as it appeared that it would surely find its mark someplace amid Zip's chest, he rolled to the side and the knife sliced harmlessly into sand. Zip was on his feet before his attacker pushed to a sitting position. Zip leaped through the air, landed upon the big man and pressured him to his back. Zip's fists flayed wildly. Darcy heard the clip of broken teeth and the crunch of cheekbones crushing. And then the man was quiet, on his back, and permanently out of action.
A sigh of relief escaped Darcy's lips, but before it was complete, and long before she moved to draw a new breath, Zip was besieged by two fierce-looking men. She had never seen them before, and it flashed to Darcy's mind that the men were strangers perhaps professional toughs who had in some way, and for some reason, joined the Honda group for their fight against the Devil Cats.
Zipper backed up as the two men approached. Each of them carried a tire iron. The irons were raised and ready. Slowly, they moved toward Zip as he moved backwards, looking at the ground from side to side as if seeking some weapon he could use. There was nothing. Only the flat sand of the beach. Then men moved apart, each on one side of Zip, the tire irons raised higher as they started to move in on the Devil Cat leader. Zip looked from left to right, constantly left to right, keeping both of the men in view as he brought his hands before him in a position of readiness. Then, with the speed of light, it seemed, the man on Zip's right lunged forward and made a swipe with the tire iron. Zip easily side-stepped its descent, but the action had been one of feint, a movement that had been made only so that Zip would lose sight of the man on his left. And that man had raised the tire iron high and was starting to crash it downward even as Zip turned, too late to prevent the crushing of his skull.
Again, even though she knew that it could not be heard above the din of battle, Darcy screamed. And then she gasped as a dark form seemed to fly out of nowhere and clip the enemy to the ground with a vicious football block. When the bodies disentangled, Darcy saw that it had been Ham who had saved Zip from violent injury. He raised quickly, then crashed his big black fist into the man's face, sending him reeling backwards, bleeding torrents from his face even before he landed on the ground. And then Ham turned and saw himself saved from the other enemy's crashing tire iron as Zip leaped upon the man's back, wrested the iron from him, then laced his hands around the throat and throttled him to unconsciousness upon the ground.
Darcy breathed again as Ham and Zip stood straight, grinned at each other, then hurried to do battle with the other intruders.
The battle raged. Zip and Ham fell out of sight as they both exchanged frantic blows with three large men. For a moment they stood on the very last edge of light offered by the bonfire. Then they were out of sight and Darcy knew the greatest anxiety of her young life. There were only shadows where the three men had disappeared. She wondered who would emerge victorious. Then she thought, Zip, Zip, Zip-it has to be Zip.
Darcy was still looking at the black spot where Zip, Ham, and their three enemies had disappeared when her attention was diverted by a new sound-one that was foreign to all the other sounds of fighting. She looked to her right and saw new lights descending down the hill. Then she saw that it was a long, sleek car. A hint of something familiar tugged at her mind and teased for recognition. But it did not come until the big car braked upon the flat stretch of beach less than fifty feet from Darcy's sand dune fortress. Then, even before he stepped from the car, she knew that it was Kenneth Masters who had arrived at the scene of battle.
Darcy gasped. Involuntarily, her hand flew to her mouth, made a fist and squeezed against her lips. Her eyes bugged when she saw Masters step from the car, straighten, then slowly look at the battle as if he were a general arriving at the scene of victory at precisely the right time. Darcy had a lightning memory of herself with Masters. She felt embarrassed because of that memory. She brought her arm in front of her, hiding her breasts, although she knew that the assistant principal of Sanford High School had not yet seen her.
Masters looked in the rear of his car, appeared to be talking to someone, then turned and again viewed the battle. Darcy glanced once more around the milling, brawling boys and men. Zip Hardy was no place to be seen. Darcy's eyes traveled to that place where she had last seen him. Still, there was only darkness. Her heart sank. She felt sick at the pit of her stomach. And even her breasts seemed to bow as if they paid homage to a love that was lost before it had started.
It was a long time before Darcy moved her eyes from that last scene of Zip, with Ham, fighting against odds and disappearing into the darkness. And because she had given up interest in everything except Zip and his hoped-for reappearance, it seemed like another entirely different night when she finally turned her eyes away and glanced to her right.
First, she saw what appeared to be two clothed, tall, dark-formed stilts. Then she lifted her eyes and stared from legs into Kenneth Master's smiling face.
"Hello, my dear," he said softly.
Darcy recoiled. She jumped back a pace and stumbled when her knees and feet became entangled, when they went wishy-washy at the sight of the big, handsome man. She fell with her back against the wall of the sand dune.
"My, my," Masters said, still smiling. "That's quite a reaction, especially for one who only a few nights earlier was so very intimately involved with this humble assistant principal."
"What-what are you doing here?" was the only thing that Darcy could think to say.
"Now isn't that an absurd question?" Masters said.
"No."
"What am I doing here?" he repeated. "Good heavens, girl, this is war!"
Darcy looked up at him as he ended the sentence with a sharp exclamation. She saw that his face looked different, that it had grown kind of puffy and that the eyes were slightly rimmed with pink. And his bearing was different, too. Very different. And it occurred to Darcy that in some insane way this man-this man vested with the education of children-had come to identify with the battle that was raging, that he had, preposterously, left the world of education and had, physically, become one of the youths rumbling upon the beach. And in that instant Darcy sensed that this was the reason Masters had wheedled the Honda Set into combat with the Devil Cats. It was why he sponsored the motor bike club, why he disdained the call of police, why he had decided that a "rumble" was the only way to rid the city of the Devil Cats' influence. And, even though it was remote and beyond her comprehension, Darcy sensed that this-all of it, the boys, the bikes, the battle, the brutality-was the very reason that Kenneth Masters had become a teacher and finally an assistant principal. Identification with youth was the reason, Darcy was sure. She could not put it into words that would find any orderly place in her mind, but she knew that it was true.
And she was afraid, very afraid.
"What am I doing here?" Masters repeated a third time, his voice rising as if in sudden panic. "Shouldn't a leader always be with his men? Shouldn't a general review his troops at the very moment of their commitment to combat? Shouldn't he?"
"Y-e-s," Darcy answered, cowering tighter against the sand dune wall as she brought the bunch of clothing in front of her nudity, pressing it tightly to herself, trying to hide her body from the glistening eyes of Kenneth Masters.
Masters took another step closer to her. He smiled. Darcy glanced over his body. Only then did she realize that his right hand was occupied. He held a riding crop. It was of the type once carried by military men the world over. She looked from it into his face and saw that perspiration bathed his face, that it dribbled down his open-throat sport shirt, stained at the arms and waist, and that very-likely it carried on to lower places that were concealed by his slacks.
"Yes, this is war," Masters declared. "It is war and you have failed your warriors at their greatest hour of need-you did not bid them adieu as they left for the fields of battle-you did not cheer the hearty and nurse the sick-you did not bid them well in their hour of adventure. Instead, you slunk like a traitor to the enemy camp. And you have served that enemy, served them amply, I can guess by the indecency of your naked body."
Darcy looked down and tried to cover more of her body. But it was useless. Utterly. Bareness peeked at Masters' from every position she attained.
"But there are fruits of the battle to be had," Masters continued. "Glorious fruits-ripe fruits-pink and white little female fruits such as you, Darcy."
Now, Darcy knew that Masters had gone insane. Completely mad. A lunatic gone crazier. She sought to offer words that might calm him-or delay him-from the vengeance she knew he sought from her.
"Why don't you join the battle?" she asked.
"Battle?" he questioned, looking around bewilderedly. "Battle? Here?"
"Yes," Darcy answered quickly. "After all, doesn't a general fight with his men?"
A new flash of identity and inspiration creased his face. "Ah, no, my dear, that's quite wrong. Quite wrong. Very wrong, actually. You see a general-a leader of warriors-must remain aloof from battle. He must oversee and direct, view, discharge all duties of leadership, but he must not risk his loss. Not ever. It would be unforgivable, for you see, a general-a leader of men-is quite indispensable.
"Oh, I see," Darcy said, humoring him.
"But enough," he suddenly blurted out. "Enough of the drivel of conversation. This is war. You are one of the prizes of this war, and the general has come to claim his prize-to liberate you, to free you from the bondage of the enemy."
Darcy breathed deeply and straightened. Her eyes darted from side to side, seeking the very best avenue of escape. But every path looked hopeless.
"No, little prisoner," Masters said, chuckling softly. "You cannot escape. Don't try it. It can only cause you the very worse kind of trouble."
Darcy didn't wait to hear more. She made a plunge for the side of the sand dune and had even achieved two quick steps toward the bonfire before Masters caught her by the arms, pinned them behind her, then wrestled her flat against the sand wall.
Darcy kicked and fought, tried a bite or two at Masters' hand, and failed at it all. Then she quieted. And then he slackened his grip, turned her around, and forced her to her former cowering position.
Masters took a pace away from her and sighed. "Ah, if only fate allowed that it should be I who was to collect this prize for myself rather than suffer, as I do, your acquisition for another."
"Another?" Darcy exclaimed.
"Of course, my dear. I do have younger officers in the regiment, you know."
"No, I didn't know," she said, stalling for time again.
"But of course. And I have promised you to the finest of them all."
"You have?"
"Naturally. A general rewards best those who serve the best."
"They do?" she said, feeling a little stupid but knowing that any words might serve to delay Masters.
"This general does," he answered proudly. "Yes, always thinking of my men. It'll be my undoing some day, I'm afraid. Yes, yes, but I cannot help it."
Again Darcy, her clothing now lying askew upon the ground, crossed her arms in front of her large, naked breasts. They stung just as all of her body stung, and she knew that it was from the grinding sand.
"But enough," Masters declared again. His tone was stern. "As I said before, enough of conversation. It is time for my brightest young officer to take you as his captive."
Darcy felt a lump grow large at her throat. And then it seemed to clog all her breathing as Masters turned from her a moment, looked toward his car, inserted two fingers in his mouth and whistled sharply.
Darcy did not have to turn and look to know that a dog was bounding out of the car and in their direction. She sensed it, vividly and correctly. Then she heard the dog's yelp and felt the fine spray of sand strike her body as a mammoth Great Dane jerked to a halt at Masters' feet. The dog whined, his big mouth open wide. Then he turned his head and looked at Darcy.
"Good old Lieutenant," Masters congratulated. He patted the dog's head.
"Please-please, don't," Darcy begged.
"Don't be absurd. A liberated female should be delighted to meet with her liberator."
"I don't-I can't."
"Silence!" he boomed.
Darcy obeyed. And then, after looking at the animal again, Masters moved as close as it was possible for him to get to Darcy.
"Down, girl," he commanded. "Down upon the ground and greet your liberator."
"No!" she protested sharply.
Masters, much quicker than Darcy thought he could move, leaped at her, raised his riding crop, then brought it down again and again upon her shoulder at that place where it joined her neck.
Pain seared her. She could not help but crumble to her knees.
She glanced toward the dog. He was sitting on his haunches. His body trembled.
Masters whipped his riding crop in a short arch through the air, making it sing. Then he issued a command in a foreign language. It sounded military and of an age long gone.
And then all thoughts blacked out for Darcy. The dog sailed through the air, clawed at her back, hunched and trembled and jerked and convulsed as he tried to bring his body into a position for lust. Darcy fought back, tried to regain her feet, could not, fell, started to rise again and was again wrestled to her knees by the thrusting beast. And above it she heard the heavy breathing of Kenneth Masters as he watched.
The dog lunged, then tried again when the sleekness of Darcy's body prevented him from the clamp of his paws. But then he did secure his paws. He lunged again. Darcy fought fiercely for freedom. The dog slobbered and growled and panted and then-very abruptly-was quiet, as a new sound came to the scene they played. Darcy turned her head slightly and saw Zip, bleeding profusely, but strong and straight, confronting the startled Kenneth Masters.
"Call that dog off," Zip ordered panting hard.
"Never!" Masters wailed.
"Call him off-right now-do it!"
Masters shook his head. And then it seemed to Darcy that he was shaking it very vigorously from side to side, that he had turned it so hard that it seemed about to fall off. And then she realized that Zip had struck Masters a vicious blow at the side of his head, that the man had spun around and was reeling to the ground. There was a groan. And then, just before he landed upon the sand, there was another sharp order from Masters to the dog.
Darcy felt the dog leap away from her. She turned just in time to see the dog leaping through the air, his great teeth showing as he snarled and snapped for Zipper's throat.
The Great Dane knocked Zip off his feet. And then he was atop the Devil Cat, snapping viciously, snarling, clashing and grinding his teeth closer and closer to Zipper's jugular. Zip snapped both hands around the dog's throat. The Dane's teeth clashed together, nicking Zip's throat. Zip strained hard, trying to push the heavy animal off his chest, away from the target of his throat. And for a few seconds, he succeeded. But then the beast, incensed by his first taste of blood, lunged again and achieved a wide grip around Zip's throat. like a vice, the dog's jaws slowly closed. Zip's skin pinched, then ruptured, then oozed blood.
Darcy screamed and staggered to her feet. Her head buzzed and for a moment she thought she would faint. She reeled and turned and lost all sense of direction. And then she forcefully righted herself and sighted straight ahead at Zip and the huge Great Dane.
Zip squeezed with all the strength of his fingers as the dog's jaws continued to close. And finally, with a mighty effort and by shifting his position, Zip gained an advantage. He raised his body a bit and exerted more pressure on the Dane. And slowly, gradually, the dog's jaws relaxed their hold upon Zip's throat. Zip pushed to a sitting position, all the time keeping his arms straight before him as he squeezed harder and harder around the hairy throat. And then Zip was on his knees and adding leverage to his hold. The dog choked. He snarled and tried to snap at Zip's hands, but it was no good; they were out of reach. Then a wheeze issued from the dog's nostrils as Zip raised higher and squeezed even harder. Suddenly, the dog's body went limp. It rolled to the side. It convulsed a half dozen times, then quieted.
Zip did not release his hold upon the Great Dane's neck until blood gurgled, then ran from the slack mouth, over the lifeless tongue and onto the sandy beach.
For a long time, Zip stood over the dog looking at the lifeless body. But when he turned, Darcy was beside him, her eyes wide with questions, her arms demurely crossed in front of her breasts.
Zip grinned at her. Then he hooked his arm around her waist and pressured her close.
CHAPTER 9
It was nearly dawn and the beach was quiet, peace once more reigning supreme over the blood of battle. And the sun rose a bit higher and peeked inside the deserted boat house.
Both Darcy and Zip turned when the bright orange showed its head above the distant shore. They smiled. Then they turned toward each other and smiled again. And then they continued, picking up the all-night thread of their conversation.
"So you see," Darcy said, "suddenly it all seemed so incredible to me-it was almost as if I couldn't believe I was doing the things I was."
"I know," said Zip, nodding his head in agreement. "It's almost the same with me. I've had this kind of restless feeling for a long time, and I kind of suspected that it was because I wanted to quit the Devil Cats, but I wasn't sure. And then, when I saw you that very first time, everything kind of popped for me."
"You're kidding?" she said shyly.
"I'm not, it's the truth."
Darcy shivered beneath Zip's jacket, which he had wrapped around her. She held it close together over the tatters of her clothing.
"What's the matter, cold?" Zip asked solicitously.
"No."
"But you're shivering."
"No I'm not."
"You are," he insisted.
"Maybe. Just a little bit. But not from the cold."
"What from then?" he asked.
"Happiness, I guess. I guess that's what it is."
"I hope so," he said.
"It is," she assured him. Then, as she looked down the beach and saw only sea gulls at their morning wanderings for food, Darcy's expression turned serious, and she asked, "What's going to happen to them? To the Devil Cats? To everyone."
"Everything seems pretty well settled," he said. "When I left you here the second time and went back, the fight was pretty well over. And so were the fuzz. All over the place. Well, the way it ended up, the Devil Cats will just move on some place else. Ham took over and led them off on their goddamn bikes."
"It's kind of sad, isn't it?"
"Kind of," he agreed. "But everybody's doing what they want, so maybe it isn't so sad after all."
"Everybody?" she questioned. "Everybody's doing what they want?"
"Sure, the police just sent the Honda Club home and the Devil Cats on their way, so-"
"What about Mr. Masters?" she asked.
"Oh. I forgot about him. Well, he's not getting his way, I guess. But they'll probably put him in a mental hospital, and maybe in a couple of years he'll get out."
"Yeah," she laughed. "Maybe he'll even be assistant principal at a new school."
"None I go to, I hope," Zip said.
"You're really going back to school. You really are, aren't you?"
"Yip," he said confidently. "I guess it's what I've always wanted. It's been bugging me."
Darcy smiled, then reached out and took one of his hands in both of hers. "Come on, tell me once more; where are you going to go to school?"
"Right here in Sanford, I guess," he said, showing considerable embarrassment. "I might as well. I've got no family. Guess Sanford's as good a place as any to start a new life."
"Sure it is. You can start clean-very clean."
He cocked his head and looked at her with an odd expression.
"You can start a clean life with a clean shave," she laughed.
"Oh, yeah," Zip grinned, bringing one hand away from Darcy's to stoke his reddish beard.
Zip returned his hand to Darcy's. She held it tight. They smiled at each other. Then Darcy shivered again. This time Zip did not question her. Instead, he brought his arm around her shoulder and cuddled her close. She nestled her lips into his neck and kissed him lightly. And for Darcy it was cause for her emotions to storm, to boil, to cry out for greater contact with this boy for whom her love now flowered. Gently, she lifted her hand and touched at his beard. She stroked it lightly. Then she cupped his chin and turned it toward her as she raised her mouth and parted her young lips.
Zip's first contact with Darcy's lips was as gentle as a rose petal. But when her tongue shot into his mouth, he gasped and clutched her closer to him. Zip's jacket fell from Darcy's shoulders, and she was partially bared and crushing against his own bare skin. Her breasts burned him, then burrowed closer. And all the time her tongue spun a crazy pattern of giving and receiving, nipping at his lips, then healing them with the quick swish of her sharp-pointed tongue.
Slowly, carefully, as if he was afraid to disturb the mood they were in, Zip raised his hand and touched Darcy's breast. He gripped her gently, fondled her, then brought thumb and forefinger into contact with her nipple. He spun it. He rolled it. And then he had to have more of it.
They separated the cling of their mouths, and Zip gently urged Darcy to her back. For a moment he only looked at her, loving her with his eyes. She smiled up at him. Then he bent and kissed her eyes and nose and throat. He nibbled there, causing red-mark bites that Darcy would view later in the day and love. And then he lowered to her large breasts and lost his face between them. He lingered here for a long time. And while he lingered, Darcy stroked his head, touched at his face, at his lips, and ran her hands over his bare back, massaging carefully at the small of it just above his slim hips.
Finally, Zip came to life. He raised. He pressured his lips against a nipple, then lolled it within his lips, moving it from side to side and around in a circle. And then he released it. And then he became more excited and gulped the whole of her flesh, jamming as much of it as it was possible for him to take. And he took a great deal, for Darcy arched, pressing more of her flesh for his hungry taking. He took it. Deeply.
Now, Darcy could no longer cuddle and soothe, she could go no further with the delicate fore-touches of sex. Her body cried out for him love. She heated and thrust and wiggled beneath him in a signal of her desire.
He lowered his kisses, brought them to her hips, to her belly, and lingeringly to her navel. He rested. Darcy could not. Her body began to undulate, moving Zip to raise again and bring new kisses to a new area of her body.
Finally, Darcy could not stand the one-sidedness of Zip's love-making. She pushed upright and smiled at him. In a moment, she shifted her position, arched her thighs in a new signal at the same time that she shifted in the opposite direction to bestow the glory she could give to Zip.
After a very long time, they separated. But their parting was only one that promised greater and ultimate closeness.
Hurriedly, their mouths came together again. Now, their tongues turned wicked as they adjusted their bodies to each other, as Zip rose, secured his place at her feet, then lifted her knees from the place beneath them. Darcy reached out both her hands, wiggling her fingers in a frantic plea to know more of her lover, to take him and guide him and bring him to the reward that awaited them both.
And then they were placed. They moved slowly at first, so slowly that it seemed impossible that the fire-spark of stimulation would ever overtake them. But it did. Frantically, hurtfully, beautifully.
They went harsher, longer, more enduringly to each other. Thrusting and receiving, holding, grinding together, then grinding even tighter as Darcy's hips left the ground and spun, spun, spun in a crazy circle of enchantment.
And then at last they rode the wave of completion.
He pumped madly, crazily, insanely, so lightened by love was he. And Darcy received his every thrust, every caress, and gave it back fourfold. She twisted and churned and pumped up and down as if she must hurry and catch the wave of his giving.
And catch it she did. And with astounding strength as she squeezed her legs tightly about his waist.
Finally, from the high, tight togetherness of their bodies, they collapsed. Immediately, they rolled their satisfied bodies together. They cuddled the softness of themselves to each other. They rested. They slept. They knew the comfort of well-founded love. And they both knew that when they awoke, it would be the same. For tomorrow. For a million tomorrows.
