A PALE-YELLOW shaft of moonlight slashed across the bedroom and touched the sleeping girl. Unaware of it, she breathed slowly and evenly. The distant wail of a fire engine rose and fell as it raced along a street five stories below. After three months in New York, Nancy Thiese no longer woke at the shrieking night noises.
The night was hot and the bedclothes were sticky with humidity and the girl's body heat. Even though the window was open, no breeze came in. The entire city lay cupped in the unseasonable September heat wave. Nancy turned over, twisting her body on its side and tugging the sheet completely off her. The moonlight caressed the high mounds of her breasts where they strained against the thin orlon gown. The dark-skinned nipples were outlined clearly under the filmy cloth, and the heavy ripe flesh bulged at the top of the gown which could not contain it.
Her long dark hair spread around her head like a pillow. She looked younger than her eighteen years. She looked like a child, except for the ripe full body of the woman. She twisted again, and the gown tangled around her creamy thighs and a dark shadow of hair lay exposed between her legs.
The telephone on the bedside table burst into a strident ring. Before it could begin to fade, Nancy jolted upright in the bed and her hand went out to it instinctively, touching it but not lifting it. The bell burst out again. Her hand shook and she glanced quickly at the illuminated face of the electric alarm clock. Ten minutes to four.
The phone jangled again. And again. Nancy bit her lips between her teeth. The hypnotic sound did not stop. She was terrified of it, and in desperation she finally lifted the receiver. She put it to her ear and listened wordlessly. She already knew what she would hear. It had been the same for more than two weeks now, not following a daily pattern but always coming at about four. And always the same raspy breathing. She had stopped asking, begging the caller to tell her who he was! She didn't want to know. She wanted to slam the phone down and never hear him again. She wanted to turn off the flood of indecent and obscene things he poured out at her. But she could not. By daylight she was able to rationalize and swear that she would terminate the calls the moment they came. But by night, she held the phone and listened. She held her breath and waited.
"Uuuuummmm, I like it when you sit up that way with those lovely big tits pressing forward like that."
Nancy pulled back as though she had been slapped. It had been this way the past few calls, almost as if the man were watching her. Yet this was impossible. She pulled the tangled nightgown down over her legs, covering her cunt.
"I've been lying here thinking about you. Such a warm night. I like to fuck when it's warm. Mmmmm, yeah. I can feel my body sweaty and slick against yours. Your lovely big tits with those sweet hard nipples pressing into my belly while you suck me off ... ohhh, baby, yeah, can't you taste it? Doesn't my cock taste good? Almost as good as your cunt! Mmmmmm, I'm licking it now. Feel my tongue slip along those hairy folds? Mmmmmm."
Her fingers were so tight around the phone her knuckles were white in the moonlight. The voice went on, hypnotic and paralyzing. She hated it but could not move to cut it off. Her breath was heavy in her throat as panic and the strange tension the droning words built in her mounted.
"Let's fuck now, baby. That's a good girl, spread those legs for me. You're pussy's getting wet."
She pressed her thighs together and shook her head reflexively, trying to deny the truth.
"Ooooh, wet and soft and hot. Open them, yeah! Feel my hard prick? Nice. Ummm, nice. Yeah, up your cunt. Nice. Ohhh, I'm hot for you doll. Let's go. Tighten your twat around my prick, yeah. Fuck, ooohhh, ooohhh!" He was panting.
Nancy's breathing grew ragged as she listened to his gasping, tormented words. "Ummm, I'm so hot. Fuck me, baby, fuck me. Yeah, ride it nice. Mmmmmm, oohhh, man! I'm going to shoot off! Here it comes! Feel it! Feel it! YEAH!! ! Hot cum! Ooooh."
Nancy was sobbing. Her mind tried to blot out the sounds of the man's agony and pleasure. She shivered with a sudden chill as though a breeze had somehow found its way into the stifling apartment. She was sweating and shaking.
The voice on the phone became a breath again, harsh and rasping as the man savored the pleasure he had created in his own body. For several minutes, she listened to his moaning delight, then finally his silence. After a very long time, he said, "Goodnight, baby. Until next time." The phone went dead.
Mesmerized, Nancy sat clutching the receiver. When she finally put it down, she sat staring at it. Why? Why had the man chosen her to call with his filth? Who? Who was he? Was it someone she knew? That hardly seemed-likely. She had only been in New York three months, and even at the bank where she worked, she knew almost no one. It had to be a madman.
That's what was so frightening. If he were mad, he might be capable of anything. He might be aware that she lived alone, he might even know where. She had no listing in the phone book, since she had gotten her line too late for the inclusion. So how had he gotten the number? Accident? At first she had believed that, but the increasing intimacy of the conversations had frightened her, and she was convinced the man had singled her out.
She pulled the sheet up to her shoulders and huddled miserably in the bed. Sleep was gone, she knew. Yet she could not bring herself to get up and put on a light. If he were watching, he would know. She shivered and swallowed a sob.
She wished she were still in the small town upstate where she had lived all her life until she came here. No! Her conscience rejected the idea immediately. She didn't want to go back there, not ever. For eighteen years she had stagnated in the sleepy little village that hadn't progressed much since the early part of the century. They had all the modern conveniences of living but none of the modern thinking. She had hated it. Hated the white clapboard house on the edge of town where she'd lived with her parents and brother, hated the tiny school that she had served her educational sentence in, the high school that had only a few dozen students altogether. Hated everything about the town. New York had been her big chance. She had worked hard for it, and she would never go back now.
The job in New York had been a scholarship, earned by hard work in her business courses. The principal of the school had arranged the interview with a friend of his and she had been hired at a salary that seemed astronomical back in Norwood but somehow never quite stretched far enough here in the city. She'd been lucky to find the fifth floor walk-up apartment, with its tiny bedroom facing the rear, and the four-foot kitchen tucked off in one corner of the living room. Even though she cooked all her own meals on the two-burner plate, food was expensive. Everything was expensive.
But more than that, she was lonely. New York was so big, cold and impersonal. People worked at their jobs, then went home to their own lives. Nancy's shy nature had not made it easy for her to go out of her way to make friends, and so she had none. She ate lunch with one girl, Peggy Holliday, but Peggy lived in Brooklyn, and they never got together after they left the bank.
Even the job itself had been a disappointment. Starting as a clerk held little glamour and little challenge. But there was the vague promise of moving up. And it was better than Norwood.
The late night phone calls had been the one exciting thing that had happened to her. They terrified her, disgusted her, but she could not hang up. It was almost as though the caller knew how lonely she was, and he too was lonely. For a few minutes, the two lonely souls communicated over the wire. She had never said anything to encourage him. The idea of his proposed sexual encounters, his fantasy, was horrible and vulgar, disgusting. But she listened. She didn't know why. She was always ashamed and frightened afterward. But she listened.
Now in the dark room, she lay listening to the sounds of the city. It would be dawn soon, and she could get up and start another day. She knew she would find herself looking at each man she passed on the street, in the bank, wondering if he was the one. It was always like this the morning after a call. The calls left her restless and aching. Except that the idea was so vile, she almost wished that the voice could bring her the kind of pleasure it brought the caller. His heavy grunts made it sound like he found physical release, sexual relief, in his words.
Nancy was a virgin. She hated the word but it was the only one that fit her. A virgin. Eighteen and she had never known a boy or man intimately. A virgin.
She stared at the last slashes of moonlight that angled across the tiled floor. The beam no longer touched the bed and she was grateful for the shadows. Her mind went back to the one chance she had had to fuck with a boy. Dave Taylor, who had taken her to a dance in the next town shortly before graduation, had tried to talk her into it in the back seat of his car on the lonely side road on the way home. They had actually gotten to the his-hand-on-her-cunt stage when the headlights of another car had flashed briefly on them and frightened them both. The car passed and Dave was eager to get back to feeling her twat, but Nancy refused, pulled away and straightened her clothes. The lights had shown her herself too clearly, half-undressed, huddled in the back seat of a car with a boy she'd known several years but had never gone out with before. A boy with a reputation for being fast and wild. She couldn't.
And she knew her mother would be waiting up at home. She knew she would never be able to hide such guilt from her mother's eyes and that she would never be able to live down the shame of her guilt. Her parents were strict but loving. Her father was a deacon of the church and a respected store owner in town. No, she couldn't do such a thing to herself or to them.
So she was a virgin. Her belly ached, and she curled up with her knees under her chin. Maybe it was being in the city that made it hurt so much more. Loneliness left her aching and bored so much of the time. That had to be it. It couldn't be anything else. The man on the phone was sick, mentally deranged. Now as dawn began to streak over the tops of the buildings across the court, she could rationalize again. He was crazy. She had been a fool to listen. Next time she would hang up immediately. Better still, she would have her phone number changed. She would contact the phone company today and have it changed. He couldn't be lucky enough to dial her again.
The decision made her feel better. She lay watching the sky lighten, and, when the room was finally light enough for her to see without the lamp, she got up. In the tiny kitchen, she fixed instant coffee and sat at the table sipping it. The muted sounds of the city coming to life filtered through the open window. The air was very still, and the day promised to be another scorcher. The apartment would be like an oven by the time she got home. She had to close all the windows, bolt them when she left. The fire escape outside the kitchen window made it too easy for someone to climb to this top floor and find entry. She had been warned by the landlord when he rented her the place. The management was not responsible for losses due to theft. Not in New York City.
Her own timidity had made her keep the kitchen window locked most of the time. She dared open it only in the early morning, like now, when she sat here staring out, needing the air.
* * *
By the time Nancy arrived at work four hours later, the heat was thick and soupy. Even in the low necklined cotton dress, she was uncomfortably warm. The air-conditioning of the bank was delightful after the short subway ride and the three-block walk.
At her desk, she found herself watching people who passed. The mail boy? No, he was much too young to be the all-knowing voice on the phone. What about Dave Taylor? Her conscience tormented her. He was young. No. The teller at window seven? Pleasant, always smiling at her. Was it him? The guard who patrolled the lobby and walked past her desk dozens of times a day? Many times she had caught him looking at girls' bodies as they passed. Mr. Regis, the vice-president...
Stop! Stop! Stop! she told herself. She had to quit this nonsense, suspecting everyone she saw. She was dwelling on the phone calls too much. That was the trouble, that was what made them so horrible. She had to get them off her mind.
She banged at her typewriter and tried to concentrate on not making a single mistake on the letter. On her break she would call the phone company. She would call from the pay phone in the lobby. She didn't dare use her desk phone on the chance someone might overhear her and learn her horrible secret. She felt a blush creep up her neck at the thought.
It seemed a very long time until ten. She escaped gratefully from the prison of her desk, taking her purse and heading for the lobby right away. She wanted to get the call over with, finished.
A fat woman in checkered gingham was using the phone. She stood in front of the glass door and waited for her to finish. She could see the woman's mouth move in unintelligible words. She stared at the wall, not wanting to see the people moving past her. Now that she was ready to make the call that would end her torment, she wanted to end the self-torture of wondering if each passing man were the one. She tapped her foot impatiently and blocked out the scurrying sounds behind her.
Finally the woman hung up the phone and squeezed herself out of the booth without so much as looking at Nancy. She made her way to the revolving door and out to the street. For the moment, the lobby was empty and quiet. Nancy stepped into the booth and made a face. The small space was heavy with the sweaty smell of the woman who had just left. She stepped back.
She heard the sounds but her brain did not register them. A shout, running feet, muffled cries. She was still fanning the door of the empty booth trying to circulate the dead air when someone grabbed her from behind and dragged her across the lobby. She was too startled to even scream.
CHAPTER TWO
THE ARM AROUND her neck almost choked her. For a few seconds she thought she was dying, but then she knew that she wasn't. Her vision was fuzzy and her head buzzed with a very insistent noise. Her feet hardly touched the marble floor as she felt herself dragged across the lobby. She couldn't even see her assailant. She could only feel the tight pressure of his arm at her throat. The high vaulted ceiling danced above her. The noise became unbearable. Somewhere close, she could hear harsh breathing, and her mind filled with terror and the unmade phone call.
Outside, her attacker moved even faster. She felt herself jerked roughly over the bank of the sidewalk and then shoved violently forward. She cracked her shin on the edge of the door frame as she fell into the automobile. The hands pushed again, yanking her up from the rough carpeting of the floor and forcing her to the seat. She struggled with the thick air that did not want to go down into her lungs. She closed her eyes and tried to make the nightmare vanish.
"Go!" The voice screamed inside the closed space. The car jerked forward and tires screeched on the hot pavement. She felt her head snap back against the seat and she squeezed her eyes shut tighter.
"Christ! That was too close!" Even as the man said the words, a shot ripped through the air and made him curse. "Goddamn, fucking guard!"
"He's shooting in the air! He knows we've got the girl!"
"People on the street!"
"Get off this avenue! Quick!"
There were three voices, Nancy's mind told her. Three men. None were her morning caller. For a moment, she wanted to laugh aloud, to cry with relief, but the realization that something even worse had happened seeped through to her mind. Carefully, she opened her eyes.
The car was screaming along a crowded street, whipping around corners, dodging pedestrians and vehicles alike. The driver was hunched over the wheel, concentrating hard. With her in the back the other two men looked out the windows, checking their progress and for evidence of chase. One of them held a large black satchel between his knees, one fist closed tightly around the handle.
It took several minutes for the truth to sink into her confused mind. When it did, she clamped her hand to her mouth to cut off the scream that rose in her throat. They had robbed the bank. And they had taken her as a hostage. Her stomach lurched and she gagged. She closed her eyes. My God! Her mind reeled and her stomach pitched. It couldn't be true. She thought she was going to faint.
It couldn't be. They would be caught. Broad daylight, the heart of the city, crowded streets. They would be stopped, caught any minute.
But the car spun around another corner and slowed.
"We lost 'em."
"Turn here."
The man next to her grabbed her arm and shoved her toward the floor. "Down you go, doll. Stay there!"
She pulled her head down and pressed her face against the carpet. The car bounced on a rough pavement.
"Okay. It's clear."
She could see only the drab tops of some ancient buildings as the car moved slowly. Then the driver turned and the daylight was gone. They had pulled into some kind of a building. The motor echoed in the vast room.
The car stopped. She was pulled out. It was a garage or a warehouse. It smelled old and dirty. But she didn't have to worry about it very long. The man dragged her across the concrete floor and shoved her into the back of a panel truck. He climbed in behind her, pushing her down to the floor. Her heart was a heavy mass in her chest. Her mind was completely blanked by terror, still refusing to believe what she saw and heard. Then they were underway again. The roar of the engine was deafening as she lay with her head pressed against the smelly, hot metal of the floor of the truck. Beside her, the man sat. For the first time, she saw the gun in his hand.
The ride was long and dreadful. Nancy sobbed softly as she realized the chances of rescue were getting slimmer with each passing moment. She had no idea where they were now, or where they were heading. She knew only that she was still their hostage, and that she might very well be killed. She closed her eyes and prayed.
The truck stopped, motor idling. Nancy glanced quickly at the windows but they told her nothing. Maybe an intersection? Were they still in the city? She reacted out of terror and desperation. With a huge gasp to pull in air, she burst out with a shriek and made the sides of the truck vibrate and bounce the sound mercilessly in the cavern.
Both men jumped. The driver half-twisted in his seat and said, "What the-"
The man next to her lifted the gun and with a curse brought it down on the side of her head. The last thing she recalled was the truck lurching forward again. Vaguely she wondered where the third man had gone. Then she sank into the gray fog of unconsciousness.
* * *
When she woke, she was no longer in the truck. Even before she opened her eyes, she knew that. The air was different, and she was not on the hard, ridged floor now. She ached miserably all over. Her head felt like it had been stuffed into a sack that cut into her temples and skull. She tilted it slightly to one side, and the quick rush of pain was unbearable. She thought she was going to vomit and she opened her mouth to breathe through it. After a moment, the nausea subsided but the pain stayed, throbbing behind her eyes. She listened but there was no sound to tell her where she was or if she was alone. Very slowly, she opened her eyes.
The room spun wildly around her and she had to fight the nausea again. The light-colored walls merged into a huge blur and tried to slide past her again. She focused her eyes with effort.
She had never seen the room before. It was a bedroom, not much larger than her own in the apartment. The walls were beige and clean. It surprised her, since part of her mind was still the grimy memory of the truck. She was on the bed. The sheet under her was clean and crisp, a pale-yellow blanket thrown across the footboard. She stared at her bare feet sticking up against the yellow cotton. Her shoes? Where were they? Had she lost them somehow? She brought her glance up and saw that she no longer wore the green dress. She was lying on this strange bed in her bra and panties. She struggled to sit up but could not. Her head reeled and the threat of blacking out made her close her eyes and lie very still for a few minutes. When the new wave had passed, she tried again. She rolled to the side of the bed and dropped her feet over the side. Very slowly, she pushed herself up. It was a long, slow process, but she was finally sitting up. She gripped the edge of the bed tightly and held on as the room spun past again.
She was alone, but there was no sign of her shoes or dress. She tried to think, but the effort was beyond her. She sat still and stared at the stark room. Except for the bed, there was only a dark wooden dresser. A mirror hung over it, and she saw her reflection. The face that stared at her might have been a stranger. Her hair was tangled around her face. There was a huge lump on her temple and a dry trail of blood drew a line down her cheek.
She remembered the ride, the fact that the men had held up the bank and taken her as a hostage. The police had not caught them. Somehow the wild ride through the streets of Manhattan had not brought a barrage of bullets or screaming sirens. They'd gotten away.
And now she was here in this strange room. She tried to stand up, but another quick wave of nausea made her sit back again. The terrified face in the mirror stared back at her. She examined the room again. The door of a closet stood open a few inches and she could see the dim interior. It seemed empty.
Another door was closed. A third one opened to a gleaming white tile bathroom, old-fashioned but clean. A high tub stood on claw feet at one side, a sink and toilet on the other. A towel was thrown over the rack and a slow drip of water oozed from the faucet. The sound was very loud in the quiet.
She listened carefully then, trying to find the sounds of the city that were always a background. She thought she could hear the muted sounds of traffic and maybe even people, but the insistent buzz in her head overshadowed them so she couldn't be sure. She tried to get up again and this time she made it. For several seconds she clung to the brass headboard. Then very slowly, she tried her legs.
She felt stronger as soon as she got moving. She went into the bathroom and wet a corner of the towel under the tap and pressed it to the lump on her head. After a few minutes, she wiped off the dried blood and examined the wound. It was not bad. An ugly purple lump, but the skin was slit only at the crest of it. Once the dried blood was gone, the cut was hardly noticeable.
She went to the closet and pulled the door open. Her dress was hanging on a single wire hanger. She saw at once why someone had taken the trouble to remove it. It was greasy and filthy. The floor of the truck had left its mark only too well on it. She lifted it off the hanger and looked for her shoes.
Without warning, the other door opened. She turned quickly, and almost lost her balance. She had to clutch the closet door to stay up. In the doorway across from her, the man who had sat next to her, the man who had hit her with the gun, stood looking at her.
"I thought I heard something," he said gruffly.
She was scared. Even without the gun, he looked ominous. He was medium height, had dark hair and a thin haze of dark beard across his cheeks and chin. His eyes smoldered with hidden lights and seemed to burn through her. She was aware of her almost naked body, and she threw her arm up to cover it with the dress she held.
The man laughed. "What's the matter, doll? You're not embarrassed at my seeing you in your underwear, are you?"
It sounded obscene when he said it, and she couldn't move or answer him. She gaped in new terror. He moved slowly across the room. "Put the dress back." The command lay flat and bold in her ears. When she didn't obey at once, his eyes narrowed. She saw the tight muscle at the side of his mouth twitch. She hung up the dress.
"That's better. You're gonna spend some time on that bed, you don't want to get it all dirty."
She felt a shiver trail along her spine. The man grinned and jerked his head toward the bed. "Get back over there."
She moved in slow motion, making a wide berth past him and easing herself down onto the bed without looking away from his face. He seemed to enjoy her fright.
"You're not going anywhere for a long time." His eyes narrowed again and she felt his glance move down her scantily clad body as if appraising it. The gaze stopped at the slightly darkened patch where the triangle of cunt-hair made a shadow on the panties. Finally, she sat on the bed to hide it. His eyes moved up and stopped a moment at the bra. Even though the white material was thick enough to hide her nipples, Nancy felt naked as he looked at her. She was thoroughly frightened now, for somehow the few words the man had said and the way he looked at her gave new dimension to her captivity. She tried not to think of it, but his leering face was a constant reminder. Her mouth was dry and her hands trembled.
He walked close to the bed and she cowered, pulling her feet up and sliding toward the center of the rumpled bed. She tried to talk, but no words came out. It was like the night, the dark hollow night when the phone would pull her from sleep and she would listen frozen in fear.
"I think I'm going to like that," he said. "It might not be too bad at all." His eyes were devouring her again and Nancy shuddered. His face looked ugly and threatening and his words were cold lumps of steel biting into her soul.
She shook her head as if to will him away. He saw the motion and laughed,. Then he grabbed for her smooth-skinned shoulder and tried to pull her close to him.
All the terror that was bottled up in Nancy surfaced. It blinded her and untied her tongue. Without warning, she screamed.
The man jumped, and in a single motion the hand on her shoulder came up and swung through the air. He hit her on the side of the head and the scream was cut off abruptly.
She was stunned but not really hurt. She knew that it had been her own fault. Once before she screamed and this man had hit her with his gun. She'd been lucky this time, he had used only the palm of his hand. She gaped at him and bit her lip to hold back her sobs.
He was kneeling on the edge of the bed, breathing harshly through clenched teeth. His eyes were diamond bright and just as cold. Before she knew what was happening, he shoved her so she fell back onto the bed. With one hand, he reached down and jerked at the waistband of her white nylon panties. The cloth resisted and he ripped at it savagely. Nancy struggled to breathe past the mute terror that filled her. She felt the pants give finally, and his hand came up with the shredded cloth. He looked very ugly as he grabbed her face with one hand and forced his fingers deep into her cheeks, making her mouth open. He stuffed the cloth into it.
Nancy gagged and tried to catch her breath. The cloth clung to her tongue and cheeks, filling her mouth and cutting off her air. The man loomed over her with a nasty grin.
"I should have done that in the first place, you little bitch! Now you just behave yourself and you won't get hurt. But if you try that screaming routine again, so help me I'll kill you!" When she didn't answer he grabbed her chin and turned her head toward him savagely. "Understand?"
She nodded, her eyes wide with fright. For the moment she had forgotten that she lay with her body exposed where he had torn off her underpants. Now his glance reminded her. He sucked air into his lungs through his mouth and the sound was obscene as he fixed a hard stare on her crotch. He touched her leg and instinctively her hands went out to stop him.
He grabbed her wrist and swore softly. "You're asking for trouble, doll. Okay, if that's the way you want it!" He sat back on his leg and reached into his pocket to bring out a coiled length of nylon cord. Almost before the horror of his actions set in, he tied her wrists together and then ran the end of the rope through the bars of the brass headboard and strung her up. Her arms stretched over her head and the cool metal pressed against the throbbing pulse in her wrists. She couldn't move her hands except to wiggle her fingers.
Satisfied, the man grinned at her. "Now that's better. I like women with spunk and it would be fun to take you untied and battle it out with you. Too bad I can't risk the noise here."
Suddenly and with complete horror she knew he was talking about fucking her. Everything he'd said and done had been leading up to this moment, and now she was powerless to stop him. They seemed to be alone in the house or apartment, and he already had her pinned down. She closed her eyes and tried to escape the horrible reality.
She could hear him breathing. like the man on the phone, she thought senselessly. He can't be the same person, he isn't. But he wants the same thing! Yes, that was it. like the voice on the phone, this man wanted to fuck and eat her. That was what made the harsh rasp in his breathing. He was excited. She dared not open her eyes to look at him.
She felt the touch on her stomach. His hand lay on the smooth skin and began to move back and forth sensuously, flat-palmed and caressing. Each move swept out in a wider circle, and she felt the pull at her pubic hairs. The sound of his breathing filled the room and her head. Her own breath was shallow behind the cloth stuffed in her mouth.
Her body trembled but he didn't stop. One hand went under her thigh and forced the leg away from the other one. The quick rush of cooler air between her thighs startled her and she shivered again. Then it was more than air. It was his hand.
She squeezed her eyes tightly and tried to block out the truth. The hand was between her legs, pulling and prying at the thick lips of her cunt, forcing them apart and exposing them to the air. Fear paralyzed her even more than the rope and gag. She held her breath.
"Jeez!" He breathed the word across her body. She felt his warm breath on the exposed tissues between her legs and knew his face was close to her crotch.
Her head spun and a wave of nausea filled her. Then a warm, wet touch tickled the sensitive flesh. It flicked over the full folds, poked between them. With it, the hot breath increased. She heard his grunt and the sucking noise that followed it. She felt the rapid tugs at her snatch.
With full horror, she knew the truth. He was sucking her. It was the obscene threat of the phone caller come to life. He was licking and lapping between her legs. She tried to cry out, but the gag cut off her air. For a moment, she panicked and almost swallowed part of the cloth. She fought for breath, and the man seemed not to notice. He was too busy elsewhere. She could feel the wet tongue score between her legs and dig up between the heavy damp folds of her pussy. His fingers clamped tightly on her thighs and he pressed his face deep into her crotch. He had hooked one arm under her leg, and he yanked at it to force her leg up so he could get closer to her.
Nancy struggled against the cord that held her wrists to the metal bedframe. She succeeded only in chafing her skin and twisting her body so the man got even a better grip on her cunt. She was terrified and ill. Her mind refused to accept the monstrous thing that was happening. The tongue speared up between the curtains of her cunt.
She felt the hard tension in her belly. She felt the quick pressure as he lapped at the inner walls of her twat. The tongue stabbed at her, demanding and searching. She tried to escape, but the hot heavy weight in her belly held her. Then it exploded, shooting off sparks and pouring molten lava through her insides. A huge black wave washed over her and she fainted. This time the wave was gentle and very pleasant, and she let it carry her to the depths of its blackness.
CHAPTER THREE
SHE WANTED TO stay in the blackness forever. It held her and comforted her, rocking her gently back and forth. She was safe here. But they would not let her remain. Already voices were picking at the solid wall of the retreat, trying to bring her back, trying to force her to listen. She closed her ears and searched for the soft blur of the gentle fog, letting it caress her and hold her.
The buzz grew louder and coaxed her out of her shell. She shivered and felt very cold. The warm touch had left her body. She felt heavy and strange.
"We should have gotten rid of her. It's crazy to keep her here."
"Tell that to Max." A grunt answered that.
Nancy came back to consciousness very slowly, hearing the words but unable to grasp their significance. It was as if she were still enveloped in the soft cloud.
"Christ, she sure is a piece! Look at the twat up there."
"Yeah, nice-looking kid."
Laughter. "Kid, hell, look at those tits!"
More laughter.
Nancy realized the voices were talking about her. The careful screen she'd put around her memory was torn away and the picture came into focus again. She remembered the holdup and her capture. She remembered the man stripping her panties and stuffing them in her mouth. She could taste the dry cloth and her aching throat. And she could remember what he had done next. The warm breath and tongue lapping at her cunt and his fingers digging into her thighs and forcing them apart. Revulsion flooded her. Did she remember everything? What had he done after that? She began to sob.
"Hey, she's awake again."
She heard the footsteps and could not control her eyelids. She opened them and peered in fright at the two men. The second one was the one who had driven the truck. He still wore his tan sports shirt, loose at his neck and exposing a dark patch of his curled chest hair. like the other man, he was dark. He was taller by four inches at least, and his face lacked the harsh ugliness of the other man's. He was younger, not over twenty-five she thought. He was staring down at her with a half-smile. She looked at him with terror-stricken eyes.
They went on talking as though she weren't there.
"I wouldn't mind having a piece of that myself,"' the younger one said. "Hell, why not."
"What about Max."
"Shit, what about him."
"He might not like it."
The ugly one laughed. "He'd like her! Besides, when he comes back, Cora will be here. She gives him all he needs."
"Yeah." It was almost wistful.
"Anyhow, we got four hours before they get here. Max says we hang onto the girl, so we hang on, right?"
"Yeah, maybe." The young one was convincing himself. He swept a long slow look down Nancy's figure and back to her face.
"Go make sure the door is bolted."
"It is." His gaze was intent on Nancy's staring, hazel eyes. "I put it on as soon as I came in."
"Then what are we waiting for?" The short one was already unbuttoning his shirt and yanking it back off his arms. His chest was covered with a dark mat of hair. Nancy stared in horror as she realized what they planned to do. The nightmare was vividly real now. This was no obscene phone call, no voice she could listen to knowing it would cease shortly. This was real. This man, these men, planned to rape her.
She watched in dread as the short man unfastened his belt and stepped out of his slacks. He wore a pair of Jockey shorts, and the cloth was stretched tight over his crotch. The huge bulge of his cock and balls made her shudder. She wanted to close her eyes, but she was frozen by the picture that played before her. He was pulling down the shorts, tugging the elastic over his narrow hips, baring his slim body. The cloth caught and he jerked it impatiently over the cock that had snagged it. As it cleared his crotch, the huge, spearing prick bounced free, slapping back and forth a few times like a branch of a sapling.
Nancy couldn't look away. The slapping organ drew her attention and held it. If it hadn't been for the gag in her mouth, she would have gasped. Her surprise almost blotted out her fear. She had never imagined anything like the sight she saw now. The cockstalk was stiff and swollen, a huge, thick shaft poking out from the man's body. It was like a small tree trunk waiting to be transplanted, the bush of thick black curling hair around its base, a tangle of roots. Below the twisting wiry hair, two large balls hung like burlap sacks holding the source of life for the tree.
"She-likes it," the younger man laughed softly.
"Wait until I shove it up her cunt. She'll like it even better." The naked one climbed onto the bed.
Nancy tried to ease her body away from him. She couldn't get very far, but the man laughed.
"Grab her leg, Tony."
Tony closed his big hand around her ankle and pulled her leg toward him. It opened the V of her crotch. The other man climbed between her legs and sat back on his haunches while he put his hands on her. The fingers spread her cunt lips apart. The terror mushroomed in Nancy. The fingers rubbed at the soft flesh and spread it more. He touched some small spot then, and a quick ripple of some new sensation filled her. She tried to ignore it, make it vanish, but his insistent fingers encouraged it and it listened. She began to shake.
"Christ, I'm getting hot just watching. Go ahead or move and let me take it!" Tony was leaning over the other man's shoulder and licking his lips.
"Mmmmm, she's getting wet."
She wanted to scream out her denial. But she couldn't. The gag filled her mouth and the heat filled her belly. The man poked his finger up into her snatch and she trembled with desire. She closed her eyes and cried silently. It couldn't be. Her body could not possibly respond to this vulgar act. She was about to be raped and rape was dreadful, unpleasant and horrible.
Something incredibly smooth touched her cunt between the heavy fingers that were holding it open. She let her eyelids flutter so she could look down at him. He was concentrating on his work, raised on his knees in a half-crouch, pushing forward so that his huge cock moved into her body. This was it. This was the moment that she feared, the moment of. . .
The fat cockhead was inside her. She could feel the heavy bulge press against the walls of her tight twat. She could feel her own wetness welcome it, try to pull it in. He pushed, and the slick spearing organ slipped farther into the waiting tunnel.
She tried to gasp and it came out as a soft moan. The man entering her didn't notice, but the other one shot her a quick look. "She-likes it. Christ, we're not going to have any trouble with her. She-likes it."
Wild-eyed, she looked at him and then back at the other man. He was pressing forward now, and the huge, velvet-covered cockstalk was going deep inside her. She couldn't believe the warmth that spread through her. Once, he hesitated as his prick struck a tight band of membrane, but then with a quick thrust he got past it and was planted all the way. His heavy shaft filled her, sent violent messages through her belly. The heavy tension filled her. She forgot everything but the spreading fire in her belly.
He began to move, grunting and gasping for breath as he pitched forward, driving the thick cockstalk deep into her cunt and then pulling back for another thrust. The fire went out of control, and she felt herself move her hips and try to hold each drive he made in her.
"Christ!" The curse exploded near her ear. She had forgotten about the younger man, Tony. Even now, she could not take her eyes off the man who was fucking her, but from the corner of her eye she saw the brief flurry of motion. Then he was back in her range of vision. Tony had taken off his clothes and was right next to the bed. His prick and ball sac were too big to ignore. Nancy stared in fascination. The new, thrusting cock was right over her face, jutting out even longer and thicker than the one inside her cunt. The dark skin creased and folded around the bulging red tip. A tiny drop of moisture clung to the tiny slit of the organ. He bent forward and pulled the gag out of her mouth. She tried to find a spot of wetness to moisten her lips, but her tongue felt thick and parched. But not for long. Tony bent over, and the tiny drop of moisture beckoned to her from his penis. She didn't know her mouth was open until the silky red tip touched her tongue. The drop of liquid was a soothing, welcome balm. She closed her eyes and closed her lips around the promised wetness.
"God!" The sound was pulled from the man who was humping his hard cock up her cunt. His motions were frenzied now, and he slammed hard into the waiting hot hole with heavy need. He was on fire, loaded and ready to explode in the hot pussy that was wrapped around him. He could feel her tight muscles pull at him, and he felt his balls strain with their load. The sucking he'd done on this cunt earlier had readied him for this thrust now.
"Here it comes!" he shouted. He couldn't have stopped it if he tried. Not that he wanted to. He felt the spasm of the muscles, then the wet hot release of his load. It shot up into her hot, hugging cunt. He pounded out the last drop before he slowed his movements.
Nancy felt the sudden warning of pressure some place deep inside where his prick jabbed its urgent message. It was the tension, the heaviness, but with new fire. It filled her with pinpoints of rippling desire. She knew in that instant that she was going to come. Her body had waited a very long time for this moment, and now there was no turning back. She whimpered and realized the other man's cock was still in her mouth. Now he was sliding back and forth, forcing her tongue to caress the long, slippery organ. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered but the hot burst of flame in her belly. She tried to cry out, but the mouthful of cock she had muffled any sound. The fire exploded into leaping flames that consumed her. Her body trembled shivered and soaked up the hot, wet load of cum he poured into her. It was like a giant sponge taking up the sea. She could not stop her legs from throbbing and raising to clamp around the hot, slamming body that pounded against her. She felt the taut flesh Under her thighs; and gripped it tight.
And all the while, the other man was shoving his cock in and out of her mouth. She moaned and let it slide along her dry tongue to stir her glands to new moisture. Her mouth felt hot, yet the gentle, smooth organ was cool and delightful in it. Her mind focused on the loose skin that seemed to slide independently of the hard core of the shaft. She didn't understand anything except that she had been transformed into some kind of accepting mass, one that could not fight. All her strength was gone, drained by the violence of the man in her body. This new act was only an echo. A burning, wet echo.
She heard the heavy rasping breath and knew it should mean something. Her lips, dry and cracked from the gag, tried to find solace in the soft, smooth skin that filled them now. Her eyes were still closed and her head roared with an inferno of sound. Then her mouth and throat were filled with thick hot fluid. She gagged, but the spearing cockshaft forced her to swallow the mass. The noise in her head roared out of control and the cum blazed a hot trail down to her stomach. She retched and tried to counteract the pushing heavy force, but it was too strong for her and she swallowed again.
After endless minutes, the man pulled his cock out of her mouth. She could still taste the heavy, salty tang of the juice he had poured down her, and her stomach was queasy. Her brain tried to tell her what she had done, what had been forced upon her, but she shut off the thought instantly. She could not let it surface. It was too horrible; too degrading. She lay with her eyes closed, praying for oblivion.
But it would not come. She lay panting softly for breath. Her mouth was clean of the gag and of the flesh that had taken its place. The relief was tremendous and she tried to be very quiet so the man would not stuff the cloth into her mouth again.
"Jeez, that was good! I didn't realize how horny I was!" It was Tony's voice. "How's her cunt, Joe?"
The other man grunted, and for the first time she realized he had extricated himself from her twining legs and cunt. She had been so concerned with the other man's actions, she did not notice his departure.
"She liked it, I know fucking well she did." Tony's voice was a soft whisper. It was as if he were talking to her instead of the other man.
She brushed the thought away.
"She's got a nice tight cunt! Christ, I really came!" Joe seemed awed by the accomplishment.
She lay behind the shadow of closed eyes, listening but not absorbing what they said. Somewhere, sometime back she had moved out of her body. It was not her they spoke of, but some stranger, someone who had no connection with Nancy Thiese of Norwood, New York. Nancy was a good girl, one who would never let any man do these things to her. Nancy would die of shame at such things.
Her body felt strange and light. Floating. She was outside her being, looking down at herself. The naked girl on the bed was twisted where they had left her. Her bra lay crumpled where someone had thrown it to the floor. Her huge tits were vulgarly displayed, her legs were spread where the man who had left her body dropped them. She looked dirty and tangled in the mass of dark hair that lay over her face like long pieces of seaweed. She was dead, lifeless from the terrible things that had been done to her.
No. She was alive. The tingling rays of pleasure that still coursed through her body made her know she was very much alive. She had to live and face the shame and guilt.
Softly, silently, she began to cry.
CHAPTER FOUR
THEY LEFT HER there, and it was a long time before she opened her eyes. Her arms were still tied to the bed frame above her, and she eased her body flat from its curled position. She lay naked on the white sheet. The yellow blanket mocked her from the foot of the bed. She longed for its protection to cover her. She hated the sight of her own body, the nude flesh that mocked her now. She was no longer a virgin. She had been raped. Twice, or didn't the second one count? She almost laughed. It was so horrible, so awful to think about. For weeks she had tortured herself with the obscene phone calls, not wanting to listen to the horrible things the voice had said on the phone. But now the phone calls seemed unreal. They had been a prelude to this moment. They had prepared her, made her body react to their suggestions, warming her belly because she had never known a man. And the preparation had caused her flesh to betray her. These two men had used her in their filthy way, taken what they wanted from her and given what they wanted in return. And her body had enjoyed it.
She bit her lip and tried to stop the sob that threatened again. She had to think, find a way out of here. But the cord held her tight. She knew it was senseless to struggle against it. Her wrists were already raw under it. She flexed her fingers to get the blood circulating again.
Her torn underwear lay heaped on the. floor and the sight of it made her feel her shame anew. The two men had left, but she could hear their low voices in the other room. At least they had not stuffed the gag back in her mouth, and she was grateful for that. She would not scream again, she knew.
Tony walked past the open doorway and looked in at her with a grin. He was holding a glass in his hand and he lifted it to take a long swallow of the amber liquid before he said, "You weren't bad, baby. Maybe Max has the right idea after all!" He winked at her and laughed. She watched him walk back out of sight.
She let her breath out slowly. He was dressed. At least she didn't have to worry about his returning to use her again. At least not right now. She had to think.
But she could not. She was numb with fear and some stranger and greater emotion that seemed to fill her and overflow her brain. Only vague fragments of thought crossed the surface of her mind. She couldn't grasp them and shape them in any way. She let herself drift. Her head throbbed from the lump where the gun had hit her. Her body ached pleasantly from the fucking it had received. She felt sticky and wet between her legs, but she could do nothing about it.
After a long time, she was aware of new sounds. New voices. A woman? She opened her eyes and strained to listen. Yes, it was a woman.
"I don't like it! I didn't bargain for any woman here!"
"We had no choice--! That damned guard pulled his gun and wanted to play hero. We needed her for a shield."
"You should have dumped her some place!" The woman's voice was tight with anger.
"Max said to take her with us." Joe's voice held a whining note.
The woman swore softly. "Sure, it's not his apartment! What the hell does he care?" . "We won't be here long."
"How the hell do you plan to get her out of here without anyone seeing her?" The woman almost spat the words.
"Calm down, Cora," Tony said. "We got her up here, we'll get her out. One way or another," he added significantly.
Nancy shuddered. One way or another ... dead or alive? The full horror of her position hit her. She had been so worried about losing her virginity she hadn't even considered che greater threat of losing her life. She had forgotten that these men were bank robbers. Criminals. As soon as they no longer needed her, they would have to dispose of her. She almost panicked then and caught herself just as she drew a deep breath to scream. No. She had to be careful or they would come back and gag her again. At the thought of the dry cloth stuffed in her mouth, she gagged again. She forced herself to lie still.
The voices moved around in the other room and she caught only bits and pieces of the conversation. Obviously the woman was angry that the men had brought Nancy here. But she seemed afraid of Max, too, just as Joe and Tony were. Max. He had to be the other man who had been in the car with them. She tried to summon a picture of his face, but her mind could not do it. She had been so frightened, so terrified during that brief wild ride, nothing had registered through the fear. She remembered only that he was tall and wore some kind of a light jacket. His face was a wide blur.
She was suddenly aware that someone had entered the bedroom. She looked up to see Cora staring at her from the doorway. The woman was pretty in a full-blown, ripe way. She had blonde hair which was piled on top of her head, and her face was carefully but heavily made up to emphasize her startling blue eyes. She was tall enough to carry the full figure, her bust was heavy and very prominently displayed in a tight knit blouse that clung to every curve. Her hips flared in rich curves below the narrowed waist where a small roll of flesh threatened to curl over her skirt band.
Cora stood looking at the naked girl on the bed, her face puckered in anger. But her eyes were cool and impersonal. If she was surprised to see the captive naked, she didn't show it. Her anger was directed at another angle.
She whirled and looked at the two men in the room behind her. "What the hell have you done to my clean bed?" she demanded. "It looks like hell! Damn pigs. Well, you'll have to sleep on the floor. I'll be damned if I'm going to be a washerwoman for the-likes of you." She turned back to Nancy and glared at her as though it were her fault somehow.
Behind her, Tony slipped his arm around her waist. "Cool it, Cora. We just had a little fun while we were waiting. Hell, we'll buy you some new sheets! With your cut of this job, you can buy a whole goddamn bedroom set! Cut the bitching." He planted a quick kiss on the side of her neck.
Cora sputtered a few times but made no more outbursts. When she spoke again, her voice had lost most of the anger. "Yeah." She laughed. "I guess I can at that."
Tony hugged her and kissed her again. One hand moved up from her waist and cupped the trapped breast under the clinging shirt. Nancy could see his fingers tighten on it. Cora lifted her chin and preened like a cat being stroked.
"Sure you can, baby. In a couple of days, we can blow this joint and make the scene a thousand miles from here." He nuzzled her neck.
Cora's eyes sparkled with the new idea. She smiled and pressed her body closer to Tony's quick caressing hands. Then she turned to look back at Nancy. "Was she any good?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah, not bad."
Cora's eyes narrowed and seemed to penetrate Nancy's mind. Nancy repressed a shudder as she realized the woman hated her. For being here, for being naked, for having fucked with the two men. It wasn't jealousy, but hatred. The look was full of it. "She doesn't look like much." Cora's appraisal was delivered flatly.
Tony laughed softly, blowing in the woman's ear and making her squirm against his chest and hand. "She doesn't have your talent, baby." . , The compliment pleased" Cora' and she gave
Nancy a smug look of triumph. Nancy wanted to scream, to tell her that she could have Tony and the other man, too. Nancy wanted no part of them, and she didn't enjoy hearing them stand and discuss her like a prize sow on the auction block. She wanted to cry out and drown out their voices, but she lay very still. With each passing minute, she realized more fully the danger she was in and that any minute could well be her last if she made a foolish move. She had to let them think she was offering no resistance if she wanted to put them off guard at all. Would she be able to do it even then? She let her glance fall with the sudden fear that Cora or Tony might be able to read her thoughts. She had never been very good at hiding her feelings.
"Nice tits, though." Tony was teasing Cora now, and she reacted immediately by twisting to face him angrily. He laughed. "Almost as nice as yours."
She smiled as she realized he had goaded her into turning around so he could grab her and pull her to him. Nancy couldn't keep her gaze from the closely twined bodies, the way Cora pressed her figure to the man's chest and raised herself on her toes to rub her length along his like a cat. Tony's hands were around her, working their way under the loose edge of her blouse. Nancy could see the dark pattern move up under the thin cloth, stretching it as he worked at the catch of the woman's brassiere. Then as he succeeded in his task, the hands moved around to the mounds that sprang out from the tight, binding cloth. Even under the shirt, Nancy could see the heavy flesh bounce and strain against the knit cloth. Tony grabbed one tit in each of his hands and began to milk at them with eager, pulling motions. Cora loved it, and she threw her head back slightly and almost purred.
Nancy tried to look away, but she was too fascinated by the picture they made standing framed in the doorway. It was as though she didn't exist. The couple clung together as though they were alone and uninhibited. Nancy caught her lip between her teeth and watched.
Tony managed to work the cloth up Cora's torso as he fondled her huge breasts. Soon, it was bunched under her arms and the breasts were exposed. Nancy stared at a creamy white dome of flesh as he kneaded it and rubbed his hand on it. She saw the dark circle of the woman's nipple, and the corrugated skin pushed out the hard tip. He held it and it was outlined against his palm clearly as he squeezed it and rolled it between his fingers. In the tiny bedroom, Nancy could hear Cora's whimper of delight. The doorway was only a few feet from the bed, and the sounds and sights were too close to escape.
For an instant, Nancy thought the two had forgotten she was there. Then Tony shot her a quick look before he turned back to Cora and said, "You're all warm and nice. Makes me horny all over again. Can I have a piece of ass?" He was whispering the words close to her ear but they carried clearly to the girl on the bed. She knew with abrupt surety that he had meant for her to hear them. He had not forgotten her presence at all. He was playing this scene for her, an audience of one.
Cora took the bait. "Mmmmm, yeah. I could use a little. It's been a lousy day."
"I'll change your luck." His hand was already working up the cotton skirt, hiking it under the caressing palm.
She shook her head and pulled back slightly. "Let me take it off. Come on, let's go in my bedroom." She tried to turn away as she undid the side zipper of her skirt, but he held her fast.
"Uh-uh. Stay here."
Cora looked surprised, then glanced at Nancy on the bed. To Tony she said, "I get it. You want her to see."
He chuckled. "Why not? She could use a few lessons." He helped her skim the blouse up over her head and then caught the dangling straps of the bra and removed it from her arms.
Cora shrugged. "I don't give a damn. I'll take it anywhere I can get it." She stepped out of her skirt and kicked off the white leather sandals on her feet. He began undoing his shirt and pants while she rolled the lace bikini pants down over her wide hips.
Nancy watched Tony. It seemed incredible, but when he took down his pants and shorts, his cockshaft was hard and jutting again, just as it had been earlier. The dark-skinned prick sprang out of its bed of hair and touched the woman's naked belly. She pressed herself to it as Nancy watched in shock.
The couple clung together, their lips opening and coming together in a wet, searching kiss. Cora raised and lowered herself on her toes to rub her heavy breasts and naked crotch against Tony. Nancy held her breath as her own belly stirred with a strange reaction. She wanted to shut her eyes and block out the picture, but she couldn't. She knew that Tony was deliberately torturing her, forcing her to watch his fucking of Cora. But she couldn't stop herself from watching it. She pressed her thighs together and tried to erase the heat that was rising in her belly and the slow, hot, wet seepage that was coming from her cunt.
"Ohh, stick it up there," Cora panted and pressed herself harder to the naked body that clung to hers.
"Help me," he told her softly.
She reached down and grabbed the hard, jutting prick in her fist and forced it between her legs. On tiptoe again, she poised and whipped the gleaming head of Tony's cock against her pussy.
Nancy gasped and then held her breath. Cora directed the cockshaft again and then, with a very quick motion, came down flat on her heels, sending the piercing prick right up where she wanted it. Her breath exploded in a huge sigh of delight.
"Ooooh, yeah! Mmmmm, that's nice. It's way up inside me. Oh, Tony boy, you've got one of the longest, loveliest dicks a girl could ask for."
Tony's hands cupped Cora's ass; pulling the cheeks apart and to him at the same time. He was breathing hard as he speared his heavily loaded cock upward into her. "You're good fucking."
"I like it this way, standing up," she said breathlessly.
"You like it any way," he declared.
She laughed softly and nodded. "Christ, yes!" She wrapped her arms around his waist and held him close. "Mmmmmm, yeah, oooohhhh, I'm getting hot!"
He grinned and moved with a hard rhythm in her. She worked with him, and the two figures bounced up and down in the doorway. Nancy saw a brief flurry of motion behind them and looked up. Joe was standing in the living room, a tall drink in his hand forgotten for the moment, watching the performance. He was grinning widely. They didn't pay any more attention to him than they did to her. With horror, Nancy realized that this kind of thing was only normal for these people. Sex was a commodity to enjoy, just like food or drink. And to enjoy it in the company of their friends and others was an additional pleasure.
Her stomach lurched and for a moment she thought it was nausea. But it wasn't. In a moment she knew it was her own sexual need being stirred again. The show they were putting on for her was arousing her. Impossible. But she couldn't look away. She couldn't stop the gripping, cramp-like pains that caught at her cunt and tightened it, squeezing out secretions to wet her thighs.
In the doorway, Cora was gasping and groaning. "Mmmmmm, ooohhh, yessss! Mmmmm, almost! Ooooh, harder! Harder!! ! "
Tony ripped ,up into, the hot, loose cunt, yanking his body fiercely with each pull. Their pubic hair tangled and pulled, sending hot flashes of passion through both bodies. He pulled her close with the hands cupped on her buttocks, and he let his fingers trail into the deep crevice of her ass and touch the puckered, tight muscle of her ass-hole. She quivered and gasped for breath.
They pounded their bodies together. Behind them, Joe nodded and almost kept time with their passionate strokes. His eyes were wide and his enjoyment was obvious. On the bed, Nancy cowered and tried to force herself to stop watching.
"Jeez! Here I come!" Tony sounded surprised.
The woman moaned and nodded her head. "Yesss! Me tooo! Oooohhh! Uuuuuhhh! Ooooo, yes! Now! Now!"
Memory flooded Nancy. She could once again feel the hot flood of jism that Joe had poured into her resisting body. She could feel the thick warm wad of cum Tony had shoved down her gagging throat. Most of all, she could feel the hot burst of her own secretions deep in her belly.
Wide-eyed, she watched the final throes of the fucking before her. With a strange, tingling horror, she realized that she, too, was coming as she watched them.
CHAPTER FIVE
WHEN CORA FINALLY untangled herself from Tony's body and arms, all signs of her passion had vanished. Her eyes held a faint hint of the extreme pleasure her body had given her, but it was over and she didn't talk about it. She picked up her clothes quickly and headed through the apartment. Joe grinned at her and winked.
"Nice going, Cora."
Cora laughed and shrugged. "You got a problem?" she asked meaningfully.
He laughed. "Not right now. I'll wait until later. I'm not the stud Tony is."
Cora looked back over her shoulder. "Don't sell yourself short, Joe. You're pretty damned good." She sounded as if she talked from experience. Then she was out of sight and Joe's glance followed her for several seconds. Nancy realized that there was another bedroom in the apartment. It accounted for the empty closet here, too.
She realized that Tony was still standing in the doorway, looking at her with a twisted smile and his knowing eyes. She blushed and looked away. He laughed softly and bent to retrieve his clothes. Then instead of following Cora, he went around the foot of the bed and into the bathroom that opened into the room only a few feet from Nancy's head. He didn't bother to close the door, and again Nancy found herself watching in mute admiration and horror.
He stood at the sink and ran the tap. He cupped his hands under it and caught the water so he could splash it over his sticky cock. His long, dark fingers curled and spread the water along the length of the long, limp organ. This was the first time Nancy had seen it in its dormant stage, and she was surprised at how big it still was. He took the soap and lathered himself, scrubbing again with his hands and digging into the mat of hair at the prick's base. Then he lifted his balls and cleansed them, too. He rinsed off the soap and stood letting the water drip from his crotch.
Nancy was so intent on her vigil she didn't notice that Tony was watching her in the mirror of the medicine cabinet above the sink. It amused him to know that the girl couldn't resist finding out all she could about sex. Instinctively, he knew that she was a green kid, probably had been a virgin when she came here. He wished he had gotten to her pussy first, but Joe had made the first move so he'd gotten her cunt for its grand opening. But she'd still be nice and tight. He grinned. Yeah, they'd have time. Max wouldn't be ready to move out of here for a couple of days. That was the whole idea of using the apartment. It got them off the streets fast, and right in the heart of town so no one would think of looking for them here. Especially with Cora to front for the operation. She'd lived here for two years and her coming and going was accepted by anyone who saw her. Even her job at the cafe was good cover. She could keep her eyes and ears open for news that might not have made the papers. The joint served decent foot at cut rates, and many of the precinct cops stopped in for coffee and meals. Everyone liked Cora, and she'd catch any rumors making the rounds.
Yeah, everyone liked Cora. Tony smiled. At thirty-two, Cora still held her good looks and figure. She would pass for twenty-five any place, except maybe for the talented way she screwed. At that, her expertise was legend, and her experience wide. Good thing Max wasn't jealous, Tony thought, grinning at the kid on the bed. Look at her, she was eating his cock with her eyes. The more he thought about it, the surer he was that she had been a virgin up until a few hours ago. Her eyes had that hungry what's-it-like look. She'd find out. Too bad she was so expendable. She might be nice to have around for a while. Oh, well, a couple of days was better than nothing. She'd learn a hell of a lot in that time-for all the good it would do her. Then he'd have to invade virgin territory some place else. Brazil. That was where he was heading.
He turned and walked into the bedroom. The girl looked away guiltily. He stood close to the bed as he pulled his shorts and clothes on slowly. He saw her glance at him from the corner of her eye.
Nancy finally looked up at his face. "Can you untie me?" she asked quickly.
He looked surprised and didn't answer right away.
The idea that had been forming in Nancy's mind gave her courage. "I have to go to the bathroom," she said and, despite her determination, felt the blush creep up her cheeks.
Tony snickered. "Yeah, okay." He Stuffed the tails of his shirt inside his belt and zipped his slacks casually. Then he leaned over her and worked at the cord holding her wrists. "Just don't try anything, sweetheart."
"I won't." And she meant it. She had thought it over as carefully as possible. She knew the only chance she had was if she could stay untied. Fettered to the bed, she could do nothing and any hope of escape vanished. Not that she had much of a chance at all, but at least it was something.
He dropped the rope, then on second thought picked it up and coiled it carefully before slipping it in his pocket. Nancy sat up and rubbed her chafed wrists and flexed her fingers. Very slowly, she sat up on the edge of the bed. She could feel his eyes follow her movements and linger at the quick bouncing breasts that slapped against her rib cage. She blushed again. She got to her feet and crossed to the bathroom.
"Leave the door the way it is."
She moved like a robot, forcing herself to concentrate on trying to act normal. Only once, she glanced over her shoulder and saw him standing right outside the door watching her. She performed her toilet quickly, her eyes straight ahead and avoiding the open door. When she was done, she washed her face and hands, stripping the excess water and letting the moisture dry naturally to cool her. She wanted desperately to wash her body, clean away the remnants of the sex acts that had been performed and left their sticky, telltale mark, but she couldn't force herself to do it while he watched. She used the damp corner of the towel to dab quickly at her cunt.
She sensed his movement and turned quickly. He was right behind her. "You'd better do a good job down there, baby. We may want to play again after a bit, and I like my women clean."
The embarrassment was a huge wave of red that quickly covered her face. She turned away from him and wet the towel under the faucet. Scouring herself with soap, she scrubbed until her tender flesh protested with the stinging burn. It was as if she had to wash away his dirty thoughts rather than follow his suggestion. Finally she hung up the towel again and moved past him back into the bedroom.
He moved quickly around the foot of the bed and blocked the doorway to the other room. She bent to straighten the tangled sheets on the bed. When she had finished, she sat on the edge and looked up at him.
He was smiling again. "You're behaving yourself. Good girl. Maybe we can leave you untied." He looked over his shoulder. "What do you say, Joe? Can we leave the chick untied for a while. She's learned her lesson."
Joe appeared behind him. "I dunno. Suppose she screams again? Cora doesn't want anyone snooping around asking questions."
Tony looked back at Nancy. "You're not going to scream any more, are you, baby?" There was a definite threat in his voice. She shook her head slowly. "See, she's ready to be good. I say we let her stay up."
"Well..."
Cora crowded into the doorway. "Sure let her stay up. Why the hell should I have to do all the work around here. Let her rustle us up some dinner. I'm beat. I've been on my feet all day."
Tony grinned at Nancy. "Can you cook, kid?"
She nodded mutely.
"Okay. But remember, you try anything and you'll be sorry, sorrier than you've ever been in your life. Got that?" He wasn't smiling now.
She nodded, her mouth dry with terror. Cora backed off and was out of sight. The two men continued to stare at her. "Can I put my dress on?" she asked, finally getting the words out of the desert of her mouth.
"I suppose." It was almost grudging. "I like you this way better."
She didn't wait for him to change his mind. She went to the closet and took the soiled dress from the hanger and slipped into it quickly. She bent and got her shoes and put them on. Then she stood up. They had moved away from the door. She walked out.
The whole apartment was small. The living room was almost dreary in its furnished-apartment look, but there were a few touches that showed Cora's occupancy. A garish painting of a nude woman hung over the plaid sofa, rich in reds and pinks on a green background. The coffee table had a glass top that held the marks of countless glasses that had sat upon it. Another table held a bowl of artificial flowers that were slightly coated with dust. A green pillow lay on the floor near the overstuffed armchair. Cora had left little of herself in the room after two years.
A tiny kitchenette opened off the far end of the room, much the way her own did in her apartment. This one was a bit bigger, with a full-sized refrigerator next to the four-burner stove. Another door, closed now, led to Cora's bedroom.
"What do you want me to make?" she asked, looking at Cora.
The blonde woman shrugged. "How the hell do I know. Look around and see what there is." She crossed to a small cabinet and took out a bottle of whiskey and reached for a glass that was stained with lipstick along the rim. She poured herself a stiff drink. Looking over her shoulder at Nancy, she said, "Start with some ice."
Nancy pulled the tray from the freezer. It was coated thickly with frost and she had to hold it under the water for a minute to free the cubes. She dumped them into a bowl sitting on the counter and handed it to Joe who stood watching her. Then she quickly refilled the tray and slipped it back into the freezer compartment.
She inspected the shelves and meat keeper. She decided on the ham slices and some fried potatoes. While she busied herself at the counter and stove, she listened to the conversation in the other room.
"When's Max coming?" Joe asked.
"Nine. He wants everything to be just like always, no changes." Cora's voice was tinged with pride.
Nancy tried to sort her thoughts. Apparently Max was the mastermind of the operation. The others seemed, to wait for his word and decision, seemed to fear him. Again, she tried to summon his face in her mind but it would not come. She dropped the ham slices into the bubbling fat and sprinkled them with sugar. The small clock over the stove showed it was after three. Less than six hours until Max came. Somehow, Nancy sensed that if she were going to make a move, it would have to be before the third man returned. She didn't know why, but she found herself afraid of him, too. She sliced the cooked potatoes quickly into the second pan and then began to search for an onion. As she pulled open the cupboard under the sink, the thought struck her. Here she was expecting everything to be like her own apartment. She had automatically looked where she herself kept the onions. To her surprise, she found them here, too. She stayed crouched behind the open cupboard door. The apartment was very much like hers, that's why. Except for the extra bedroom and bath, it was laid out the same as hers. It looked like hers had when she had first moved in, before she had added bright offerings of color and softness to the drab decor. It was natural that she felt at home here.
She stood up slowly with the onion. Before moving back to the stove, she looked out the small window at the end of the room. It was the same. Outside was the iron railing of the fire escape. And the window was open a few inches at the bottom.
Nancy regulated her breathing so she gave no hint of the excitement that filled her. A fire escape. It had to reach to the street below. No matter what floor they were on, the metal ladder and steps would angle along the side of the building and eventually reach the street. Now all she had to do was create some kind of diversion so she could get out there and get down. Her hopes sagged. How in the world could she manage that?
She peeled the onion and cut it up into the frying potatoes. Still, it was a hope, one that she had to cling to. It was the only one she had.
In the living room, the three people sat with new drinks. They talked in spurts of conversation, disjointed and aimless. They seemed to be waiting. Waiting for Max.
She found plates and silverware and set the table that stood between the kitchen and the living room. When the food was ready, she dished it up and looked at Cora.
The three moved to the table. Nancy backed away to leave them to their meal. She had no desire to eat with them, though her stomach rumbled in protest at its emptiness.
She scoured the pans and cleaned up the grease from the stove while they ate. Whenever she could do it without being obvious, she looked around the small apartment, trying to figure out a way to get away. It struck her that she had not seen the black satchel. Did they have it here, or did Max have it? She wondered idly how much they had gotten from the bank.
It was funny how calmly she could think of the bank now. It seemed so far away, so long ago. She had been going to make a phone call. She choked off the tiny laugh that surfaced as she thought of the call she'd never made. The protest about an unknown voice mouthing intimate words at her seemed ridiculous now. Now she had had all the things he'd said done to her, and more. She cursed herself for being so naive and stupid. If she had only hung up the phone instead of listening, the calls would have stopped. And she would not have been standing in the bank lobby when these men came through, she would not be here now. She felt the hot sting of tears behind her eyelids. If only...
She heard the chairs scrape back and turned. "Do you want coffee?" She hadn't found a coffee pot, but she had unearthed ajar of instant over the stove.
She mixed the crystals and hot water and brought the cups to the table. While they drank the coffee, she cleared the table and stacked the dishes next to the sink. She was relieved when they carried their cups to the living room and left her alone in the kitchen. She ate a slice of ham and then ran water to wash the dishes.
She worked slowly, wanting to drag out the job so she wouldn't have to face the trio again. She glanced out the window every few minutes and tried to figure out what her location was. She could see the stark brick wall of a building opposite. No windows of openings showed what it was or how high this apartment might be. The other building was lower than this one and she could see the parapet of the flat roof at a level with this floor. She could be three stories up or ten, there was no way of knowing.
On the pretext of putting away the dishes, she opened the cupboard closest to the window. Standing on tiptoe behind the protection of the open door in case they looked her way, Nancy glanced past the fire escape and down. She couldn't see the street or alley. At least three stories up, she knew. No matter how many, it was the only way out. She had already seen the double locks, chain and bolt on the front door. Cora didn't take chances.
Her mind raced while her hands moved slowly. The three of them seemed comfortably settled in the living room. How could she move them out of sight of the kitchen window? It seemed hopeless. And as long as they sat there, she was helpless.
"Christ, what are you doing out there?" Cora demanded finally.
Nancy closed the last cupboard door. "I'm finished."
"It took you long enough." Cora was complaining just to hear herself talk.
Very slowly, Nancy left the kitchen. She stood undecided near the table and looked at Tony. He glanced up with an amused smile but said nothing. She started for the bedroom.
"Hey," Tony called sharply.
She stopped and turned.
"Come over here."
She went and stood in front of him. "I don't even know your name."
"Nancy Thiese."
"Nancy, yeah, you look like your name would be nice and sweet, like Nancy." The idea amused him. "Sit down." He patted the sofa beside him.
"That dress is all greasy!" Cora's reaction was sharp.
Nancy stopped in mid-motion and looked at the woman. Cora glared at her. "This may not be the Ritz but I'm not gonna have a slob like you getting slop all over my furniture so it comes off on my clothes when I sit down! Take the goddamn dress off if you wanna sit." She banged down her coffee cup and pushed it across the glass-topped table.
Tony's grin widened and he shrugged as if he were helpless against Cora's orders. He watched her. Nancy backed away. "Well?" Tony said.
Nancy stared at him. "Take it off," he said.
She shook her head and he repeated his words. "Take it off."
Very slowly, she lifted the dress over her arms and head and folded it to hold in front of her. She heard Joe snicker, but she could not look at any of them.
"Sit," Tony said.
She eased herself onto the sofa as far from him as she could get. She could not look at any of them. She held the folded dress on her lap so it covered her crotch and her arms so they hid her naked breasts. She could feel their eyes on her, mocking and bold. She knew that Cora was enjoying her discomfort, perhaps had even made her demand out of the spite and hatred that filled her.
"God! It's hot enough to make anyone want to take off their clothes. This goddamn apartment is like an oven." Cora wiped her hand across her brow.
"The heat wave should break soon," Joe commented.
"I swear this old building holds the heat worse than any place I've ever seen." Cora fanned herself with her hand. "I'll be glad to get out of here." She lifted her skirt and fanned air onto her legs. "Hell, I'm gonna take this off." She got up slowly and walked into the bedroom. When she came back a few minutes later, she was wearing a very thin and very revealing robe which she hadn't even bothered to fasten. It hung loose down her body, clinging to the high hills of her breasts so the dark patches of the nipples showed. Her belly and crotch were outlined by the edge of the cloth which was a pale shade of pink only a bit darker than her white skin.
Joe grunted. "You give a guy ideas, Cora."
Tony laughed. "Funny how hot weather doesn't make you less sexy."
Nancy listened to the exchange with mixed emotions. Her first reaction was dread, fear that once more she was going to be taken and fucked by the two men. But as she listened, she realized that maybe this was the diversion she was looking for. Sex was the one thing that could occupy them. Sex was the one thing that made them forget that she was their prisoner and had to be watched. She recalled the concentration and rapture both men had exhibited when they screwed her before. For several minutes they had each been oblivious of anything but their physical needs. For several minutes they noticed nothing around them.
Several minutes was all she needed to raise the window and climb down the fire escape.
CHAPTER SIX
HER MIND RACED, blotting out their voices and laughter. How could she work out this new idea? She felt sure sex was the answer, but she couldn't imagine how to get the three of them interested enough in each other to make her move. Think, Nancy, think!
The two men had taken her at the same time. Now she had to try to get them to repeat their sex play with Cora. Would she be willing after her recent session with Tony as they stood in the doorway? From what the men had said about Cora, the woman enjoyed lots of sex. She had offered to take care of Joe when she finished with Tony. And Joe had put her off until later. Was it long enough? Later now? She looked up. Joe was watching Cora with appreciative eyes. He was interested. Very carefully, and making it look accidental, Nancy let her arms move away from her breasts. She held her breath but no one made any comment or seemed to notice.
"How come you never bought an air-conditioner for the place?" Joe asked.
Cora shrugged. "The wiring in this place is so old the place would burn down. I swear the landlord must bribe the building inspector to get by with it." She reached for a cigarette and Joe leaned forward with a match for her. As she bent to put the cigarette to it, her heavy breasts fell out of the robe and swayed like pendulums. Both men stared. Cora blew a thin cord of smoke into the heavy, still summer air.
"The neighborhood is going to hell," Tony commented. "This used to be a real nice part of town. I can remember when I was a kid we used to watch the rich people come out of these brownstones and climb into their big cars and go tooling off." He laughed and lit himself a cigarette. "I always wanted to live around here."
They all laughed. Nancy smiled, and Tony looked at her. "You from the city, Nan?"
She shook her head. "Upstate."
He nodded. "Nice up there. I was in the Catskills for a few weeks once. Nice." He smiled at her.
"What'd you come to this crummy city for?" Cora asked.
"To work. There aren't any jobs in small towns like the one I came from." Nancy was surprised at her ability to talk without feeling ill at ease.
"Everyone outside New York wants to come here and everyone here wants to get out. It's crazy," Tony said.
"Yeah." Cora dragged on the cigarette again.
They sat in silence for several minutes, the topic exhausted. Nancy tried to think of some way to bring up a new one, but the years of shy innocence had left her totally unprepared to suggest sex games. Then with a start, she realized that Tony's hand had moved very close to her shoulder. His arm still rested on the back of the sofa, but his fingers touched her skin lightly. She sat very still when he brought his hand down in a bold pass that slipped, from her shoulder to the exposed tit below it. She drew a sharp breath, but said nothing and did not pull away. Almost absently, Tony began to play with the soft, sunken nipple.
"You got nice ones, kid," he said.
She tried to look at him but had to glance away quickly. The plan was one thing but carrying it out was another. Faced with the actuality, she could not move. His finger plunged into the soft flesh and made an indentation that closed around it like lips. She felt the tingle of reaction under it. Then he began to make little circles with the probe, finding the nipple and coaxing it to hardness. Nancy ran her tongue over her dry lips.
"Want to go in the bedroom?" Cora asked abruptly. "We've got a lot of time."
Joe nodded and Tony grinned. "Sure, why not. We might as well put it to good use." He got up and pulled Nancy to her feet. "Should we make it mixed doubles or you and Joe want privacy?"
Cora laughed. "Let's use my room, the equipment's better." She led the way to the closed bedroom and they entered behind her.
For a moment, Nancy stared in disbelief. It hardly seemed possible that this room was part of the same apartment. Where the living room, kitchen and extra bedroom had been dull and drab, this bedroom had been converted to a small paradise in the desert. The walls were painted a rich shade of honey-brown and the floor was covered in long fuck in a darker shade. It gave a very earthy appearance to the entire scheme. Orange drapes covered the window and an orange satin bedspread was on the bed. The furniture was dark wood, in a heavy Spanish style. A huge mirror covered half of one wall opposite the bed. The bed was a huge circle.
Cora pulled back the satin bedspread and exposed the orange sheets on the bed. She folded the spread carefully over the bottom of the bed before she took off her robe and draped it over the low-backed lounge chair. Then she turned and faced the men.
Joe was already unbuttoning his pants and unzipping the fly. He grinned at her, eager for the promise of screwing her. Tony followed suit by undressing too. Nancy was torn between shock and delight. She didn't have to worry about maneuvering them into sex. It seemed to be all they could think of. She had never known there were people like this. But she was not to be left out. Tony reached over and took the dress from her hands. "I get you, baby," he said. "I haven't had a go at your cunt yet."
She stared and he laughed. "Come on, that bed is big enough for all of us." He gave her a little push.
She sat on the bed, not knowing what to do. Tony was completing the disrobing, and she watched. His dormant cock looked smaller than she remembered it as he washed at the sink in the other room. Yet there was a strange aliveness to it, as if it were ready to spring out at a secret signal. Tony moved toward her and she watched the cock bounce limply against the half-hidden balls. He stood in front of her and looked down, but she couldn't take her gaze from the target area between his legs.
"You gotta bring it up, Nan. Go on, raise a hard-on for me."
She sat very still. Cora laughed. "She doesn't know how, Tony!" Even the mockery didn't move Nancy's gaze.
"Touch it," he instructed softly. "Lift it with your hands. Go on."
In slow motion, her hand came up and one finger touched the soft, velvety skin. It sent shivers through her.
"Take it!" It was a heavy, urgent whisper. Her fingers moved around it and lifted it. It was soft and squiggly, like a snake in her hand, only one with a fantastic satin sheath instead of scales. The dark head peeked at her from its rippled layer of skin that formed a collar around it. The tiny slit was dry and tight.
"Play with it," he coaxed.
Hypnotized she moved her hand slowly on it. The head popped out of the collar and the slit winked at her. It retreated and closed its eye. She repeated the motion, then faster. A small quiver told her hand it was getting results. Now when the head rushed out of its sheath, it was very red and glistening. The blood began to fill his organ and make it hard. Thick blue lines showed where the veins worked overtime. The ridge around the head became a very prominent projection, like a lollipop on the end of a stick. Nancy licked her lips at the thought.
He moved closer, pushing the swollen cockstalk near her face, causing her to refocus her eyes to its closeness. She stared in fascination. Her fist barely fit around the circumference of the huge organ. She could feel the blood throbbing under the velvet skin, and she could feel the special heat that came from him and was quite different than the heat of the room. "Open your mouth."
She heard the words and obeyed. He moved again and the ruby-red cockhead touched her lips. Her lips closed around the shaft and her tongue licked across the tiny slit to find the drop she knew waited there. He moved slowly, pumping back and forth in her eager mouth, letting her tongue search every inch of him and taste his readiness. His hands went to the sides of her head, pulled and pushed, forcing her movements to coincide with his body's wants. Nancy felt the heavy, hot whirlpool in her belly. Her mind erupted in a blaze of desire. She was filled with a need to experience again the hot pleasure she'd discovered earlier, to feel his heavy wad of cock cream fill her throat and stomach. She licked at him furiously and tried to push herself further on the loving prick.
"Take it easy, kid, easy! I want to fuck your cunt!" He pulled back quickly and grinned at her. She sat, mouth open, struggling to recapture the prize he had taken away. He laughed and pushed her down on the bed. "Roll over."
Again she obeyed with a strange, unquestioning need. She was on the edge of the bed, and her knees scraped over the soft carpet. He slapped her rump gently. "Good girl. Yeah, that's the way. Stay there."
She stayed, her knees on the floor, her body bent over the edge of the bed. For the first time, she realized that Cora and Joe were also on the bed. They were curled together, hands and mouths exploring and fondling each other's organs. But then, she had other things to think about.
Tony had moved on top of her, and she could feel the wet touch of his prick on her ass. He slipped down, forcing it-between her legs and slapping it into the crevice with violent strokes. Even though she couldn't see it, she knew he was aiming it into her with his hand, the way Cora had pushed it into her snatch earlier.
The odd angle presented a challenge, and he finally shoved one hand under her belly and lay flat on her. His hands pried apart the heavy wet curtains of her twat and held them while he inserted the swollen tip of his cock between them. She gasped as the soft skin scorched her inner muscles. Then, with an abrupt angling of his body, the cock rammed up into her. This time the gasp ended with a moan of delight. One hand stayed pressing on her cunt, forcing the heavy stalk to stay in her dark cunt. The other hand went up to her tit and cupped it with violent, mashing strokes.
Nancy was lost in the blazing wildfire that spread through her. She couldn't tell where it began or how it grew, but her entire body shook with the heavy ripples of need. His gripping hand at her breast shot out messages to meet the huge mushroom of his cockhead in her guts. His prick pounded hard and deep into her, forcing and stretching her cunt as it angled and pressed against the thick pulpy muscle. She was very wet, dripping and still pouring out more juice to welcome and warm him. She could hear him panting above her and she suddenly realized that she was matching his tortured breaths. Her body screamed with need.
She spoke it in a hoarse whisper. "Ohhhh, yesss! Yesss!"
"Christ, I'm so goddamn hot I'm gonna blow!" He heaved his body against hers. The cock slammed into the far end of the cunt-tunnel, meeting the momentary resistance of the tiny, muscled opening that led to her uterus. Then it pushed in, and the extra tension of the tight hole triggered his climax. His cock exploded inside her. The cum shot out in a long, hard, hot stream and filled her pussy.
It was all she needed to set off her own orgasm. Her belly clutched in one hard spasm and her secretions poured out as she reached her orgasm. Shivering Shockwaves made wide arcs through her whole body, making her gasp for breath and release. After a very long time they subsided and she lay still.
He lay on top of her, panting and sweating. The heat of her body blotted out everything but the pagan pleasure that had filled her so completely. She lay content under him. When he finally backed off, she could not move. He said nothing, but patted her ass as he walked to the bathroom that opened off the room.
Nancy glimpsed the sparkling white interior, old-fashioned like the other one but brightened with orange and brown towels hung over the racks and an orange carpet on the floor. Tony stepped into the glass-enclosed shower and she heard the water splash over him. She watched his shadow behind the glass for a moment, then, with sudden awareness, turned to look at Cora and Joe. They were still pressed hungrily at one another, eating and lapping. Joe's head was between Cora's legs and she could hear his loud sucking noises. Cora had Joe's huge prick in her mouth and was lapping at it with delight. Her eyes were closed.
Very carefully, Nancy eased herself to her feet. With a quick glance at the bathroom and hearing the reassuring sound of the shower, she darted for the door, pausing only a fraction of a second to snatch her dress from the chair where Tony had put it. She eased the bedroom door shut behind her and shoved her arms into the dress as she crossed the linoleum of the kitchen. She raised the window, breathing a prayer of relief that it didn't stick. She threw one foot over the sill and pulled herself out. She had forgotten her shoes, but there was no time to worry about it now. She closed the window to the few inches it had been open before, then returned to descend.
Looking down for the first time, she saw that she was about four or five stories up. She swallowed her natural fear and clutched the metal rail that followed the narrow barred steps down. The strips of metal were hard and rough on her bare feet but she sobbed and kept moving as fast as she dared. She had to concentrate on not looking down for fear she would get dizzy. The thick sludge of Tony's cum was trickling between her thighs and she sobbed with new fear and disgrace.
She came to the landing of the floor below. She hesitated at the window, but the apartment was dark and she hurried on. She was almost to the next landing when she heard the noise above her. Fear stopped her breath in her lungs. Was it a window opening? She couldn't lift her eyes to look. She bounded down the last two metal steps, whimpering softly as the terror consumed her.
The window here was open. Without thinking, she turned from the steps and climbed through it. The threat of the noise she'd heard was too alive, too close.
She had gotten out of the apartment, out of the clutches of the men who'd kidnapped her. She'd done it. She lowered the window behind her quickly and fastened the catch. She reached up and yanked down the tattered dark-green shade that crossed the top of the window at a crazy angle. She stepped away from the panel of glass as though it might betray her presence and turned to lean against the wall next to the window. She listened to the silent apartment. It was empty. Really empty, she saw. No furniture, nothing. It was a vacant apartment.
She would have cried with relief except that she was still listening for sounds of pursuit. She held her breath and waited for the creak of metal or the sound of footsteps. Nothing.
Had Tony missed her yet? How long would it take him to figure out which way she'd gone? She shivered. Suppose he came here? With horror, she recalled the bolts and locks on Cora's door. Was this apartment locked? Quickly on bare feet, she ran across the rooms to the front of the apartment. A chain hung unfastened on the inside of the door, and she raised it quickly and slipped it into the notch.
Limp with relief, she leaned her forehead against the door and let the tears overflow quietly. She had escaped. For the moment, she was safe. As soon as she caught her breath, she would figure a way out of here, a way to safety.
She sobbed and gulped air into her trembling body. Out of the silence that enveloped the apartment, something touched her shoulder lightly. Before she could turn or scream a strong hand clapped over her mouth.
CHAPTER SEVEN
IT WAS AS though she were drowning, being sucked into and under an enormous wave of terror. It was like being pulled back in time. like being recycled in fear.
Nancy couldn't struggle against the powerful grip that dragged her across the floor. She knew that she had lost and that they would not give her a second chance. She could not fight them any longer. She closed her eyes and went limp as the man dragged her backward across the empty apartment.
How had he followed her so quickly? She had locked the window behind her. It was impossible, her mind told her.
Abruptly, the motion ceased and she heard a door open on slightly squeaky hinges. The dim apartment was laid out like the one upstairs, and they were at the bedroom.
"Who is she?" a voice hissed in the gloom.
"Hell, I don't know."
"She sure ain't the cops." Soft laughter. "Man, she gave me a fright!"
The fingers tightened across her mouth and she felt her head pulled back as she was thrust into the room. Across it, in a dark corner, she saw a glimmer of motion. The figure came closer, and she was staring wide-eyed into the face of a black boy. His eyes were dark and intent and he stared at her for a long time before he said, "Let her go, Chico."
Very slowly, the fingers over her mouth uncurled.
The boy behind her pushed her so she stood up straight but he still held her wrist twisted behind her back.
"Who are you?" The boy in front of her spoke softly but his words were demanding.
Panic still beat wildly inside Nancy, and she couldn't get the words out. She stood gaping at the boy, wincing with pain as the one he'd called Chico twisted her arm as a threat.
"She don't talk." The third voice from the corner surprised her. She couldn't look away from the black boy staring at her.
"You don't talk?" he said softly.
She tried to nod her head, to get a sound out, but she could not. She felt a certain relief to find that these were not the men from upstairs, but instinct warned her that she was still in danger. She ran her tongue over her lips but there was no moisture to ease them. Fear paralyzed her and her jaw moved soundlessly.
Behind her, Chico laughed. "Maybe she's a dream. We was just wishin' we had a broad. You think that's it, Gunner?"
The black boy laughed. "Sure, that's it. Our dream girl. Where'd you come from, doll? Heaven?"
All of them laughed softly, the sound filling the room like a huge shadow. She saw the quick flash of the boy's white teeth. From the corner, the third boy giggled and said, "A fucking angel!"
They laughed again and, without malice, Gunner said, "Shut up, Waldo." His smile vanished and he looked at Nancy again. Very slowly, his eyes moved down from her terrified face to her body.
Her breasts were taut under the dress where her arm was pulled back. The tiny tips of her nipples pressed obscenely against the thin cotton and were emphasized by the huge smear of grease that had stained the dress in the outline of her breast when she'd lain in the truck. Gunner let his gaze go to her hips and thighs, then to her legs and down to her bare feet. His eyebrows moved up a little when he saw that she wore no shoes and a puzzled frown creased his brow. His gaze moved upward again and stopped at the bustline of the dress.
Nancy felt horror and revulsion fill her. It was as if she had been recaptured by Tony and Joe. It seemed as if every man wanted only one thing from her. She wanted to scream at him, but even more she wanted to scream at herself. She was so frightened again that she was losing perspective, imagining things.
Gunner put his hand out and slipped one dark finger under the neckline of the dress. She tried to move from it but the boy in back of her held her tight. She tried to protest but her mouth was full of cottony fear. The finger pushed down and across the bare tit. Gunner grinned. "Yeah, you're right, Waldo. She ain't wearing nothing under this dress. She's a fuckin' angel." He glanced briefly at her hips and jerked his head as a signal to Chico. Chico shot his free hand down and yanked up her skirt.
Nancy shook her head and a sob escaped her throat. "No!" She wasn't sure the word had come out.
But Chico already had the dress up over her hip to expose her naked belly and crotch. In the corner, Waldo whistled softly. Gunner's finger stopped on the nipple of the tit with an unmistakable pressure. His eyes were on the white flesh that gleamed in the dim room.
"Bring her over here," Waldo whispered hoarsely. "Shit, I'm hard just looking at her!"
Chico looked at her. "What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice suddenly very hard and cold.
Nancy moved her lips and tried to tell him. The first sounds that came from her mouth were unintelligible squeaks, but finally she managed to make words. "I-they-I ran away." The three boys were very still and listened.
For a moment she thought he wasn't going to answer. His eyes held her and searched hers. His face didn't change expression and almost without moving a muscle he said, "From where?"
Her tongue flicked over her lips again and retreated in cold fear. "I-upstairs." She glanced away, unable to meet the steady look. "I came down the fire escape." She was whispering with her fright and the silence of the room.
"Where upstairs?"
She shook her head. She didn't know where she'd been. Helplessly she said, "Two floors," remembering the dark window she'd passed.
Chico increased the pressure on her arm slightly and she didn't know if it was surprise or fear. Gunner stared at her. "Why'd you split that way?"
She realized suddenly that his hand was still inside her dress, his fingers very warm on her breast, the pressure steady and insistent. "They kidnapped me."
Only his eyes moved, shifting quickly to the boy behind her and then back to her face. "Who?"
"I don't know!" She sobbed and let her head fall forward as the tears behind her and her panic welled urgently. "They robbed a bank and they grabbed me as a hostage!"
Her sobs were the only sound in the room as the three boys weighed her statement. She sobbed and gulped the sounds down as she thought about the possibility of Tony or Joe searching for her and finding her. "Oh, please, call the police! Help me!"
A short burst of laughter came from the corner. Gunner said softly, "Shut up, Waldo." The sound ceased abruptly. Gunner snapped his fingers with his free hand held out. Chico released her wrist and her arm dropped quickly. It ached from the enforced angle at which he'd held it so long. Gunner slid his hand out of her dress and almost reluctantly, Chico let her skirt fall in place.
They believed her. They were letting her go. They would help her. Hope soared in her chest.
Gunner's voice was barely audible. "They're in this building? Upstairs?"
She nodded furiously. "Yes. Please, help me. Call the police."
"Ain't no phone here."
"Find one!" She was desperate.
"Don't want no pigs, lady. We don't like pigs." Gunner wasn't smiling but there was mockery in his words.
"I think she's lying." This was from Waldo in the far corner.
Nancy's eyes had grown accustomed to the gloom now and she could see the third boy crouched on a ragged mattress that lay on the floor. Bits of stuffing spewed onto the grimy floor of the empty apartment. She realized all at once that these boys did not live here. The apartment was vacant, and they were simply using it for their own purpose. The air held a decaying odor that told her the flat had been empty a long time.
She looked in desperation at the black boy in front of her. He seemed to be the leader of the strange group. Waldo, hovering in his corner was almost a puppet, told when to speak and when to be quiet. Behind her, Chico was the muscle to carry out Gunner's commands. Gunner looked about seventeen, perhaps even younger. But his wide shoulders and narrow hips made him sleek and fast-looking. He wore a pair of very tight jeans, a white T-shirt that flapped loosely over his waist and filthy white sneakers. He was staring at her and making his decision. What were they doing here? Why didn't they want the police? Was it natural animosity or did they have something to hide? She bit her lip.
Chico moved and she darted him a look. He was white but with the dark swarthiness of a South Slavic heritage. He was good-looking in a tough way, with dark curls framing his face and deep dimples at the sides of his harsh mouth. He was dressed only in an unbuttoned sports shirt and a pair of jeans. The flapping edges of the pale cloth emphasized the dark mat of hair on his chest.
"The dress," he said slowly.
Gunner nodded. "Right, man." He looked at her. "Nobody works in a bank dressed like that." He let his glance move down the length of her body to her bare feet.
"They took my clothes!" Her voice raised a shrill note and Chico grabbed her arm in warning. She lowered it quickly. "They did, honest!"
The room was quiet for several minutes. Nancy's breath rasped in her throat and she could hear the blood pounding in her head. Then, before she knew what happened, Gunner jerked his head and Chico grabbed her and pulled her toward the corner. He shoved and she fell landing sprawled on the filthy mattress near Waldo. His hands were on her instantly. She tried to pull away.
Chico was on his knees beside her, his hands yanking up the cotton dress again. She whimpered and clamped her arms over her chest. "Don't!" It was a hoarse whisper of terror. Chico pushed at her arms but she held them tight. He glanced up at the black boy who nodded. Chico bunched the cloth in his hand and ripped the dress from her quaking body. She heard the cloth tear and she began to cry. Naked, she lay in the circle of their eyes, Waldo and Chico panting close to her, Gunner standing at the foot of the mattress looking down at her. Somehow, he was the most dangerous, and she knew it.
Gunner spoke in almost a whisper. "Spread her."
Each of the other two grabbed one of her ankles and pulled her legs apart, opening her thighs to the staring eyes of the boy who watched.
"Hey, she's already been fucked. Look at that cum!" Chico touched his finger into the sticky mass that had congealed between her legs. Nancy whimpered.
"I thought so. She's been playing games and pulled a cop-out." Gunner laughed softly.
Nancy shook her head violently but her throat was frozen with fear. She stared at the boy and waited. For a minute, the room was very quiet. Chico left his hand on her thigh and she could feel his flesh burning against hers.
Gunner put his hand to the snap at the waistband of his jeans. The small popping sound as he pulled it open seemed to echo through the room. Suddenly, another sound broke the quiet, and the boy froze. Chico reacted instantly, clamping his hand over Nancy's mouth.
The knock sounded at the door again. Very slowly, Gunner snapped his jeans and moved toward the door soundlessly. The rap was louder this time.
Nancy was torn between two terrors. The actual one that faced her as she lay naked under the eyes and hands of the boys, and the possible one that it was Joe or Tony at the door. She trembled and Waldo's hand shot out to press her shoulder back to the mattress.
The knock sounded again. Gunner was at the door. "Yeah?" His voice barely carried back to the bedroom.
She couldn't hear the answer from outside the door. It was an indistinct mumble. Then Gunner said, "No." The murmur answered and she heard the bolt shoot back and the door open on the chain. She breathed a thankful prayer that she had slipped the chain in place. For now, there was no doubt, no question. Tony's voice rumbled into the empty apartment.
"Are you sure you haven't seen her?"
"Yeah, I'm sure. I was taking a nap and there ain't been no one here but you. Who'd you say the girl was?"
Nancy choked off the sound that formed in her throat.
Tony's laugh was cold. "Just a broad." She could imagine his conspiratorial wink. "You know how it is."
Gunner chuckled. "Sure, man, sure. Well, hope you find her! If I see her I'll bring her up."
"Thanks."
The door shut in a second, the bolt moved across its metal channel again. Nancy didn't realize she was holding her breath until she let it out slowly. Chico didn't release his grip on her. Then Gunner was back in the bedroom. He moved like a cat and just as silently. The three boys looked at each other for a long time as they listened to the silence settle over the apartment again.
Chico spoke first. "What the hell'd you open that fuckin' door for! Christ, suppose he pushed his way in!"
"Cool it!" Gunner wasn't concerned.
"Suppose he knew the apartment was empty! Christ he'll have the super on our necks!"
"I said cool it!" Gunner didn't raise his voice but He didn't have to. The command was clear and Chico read it quickly. He clamped his mouth shut without voicing the new protest he had prepared.
Gunner looked at Nancy. "Just like I thought. You ran out on him."
She shook her head.
"He says you got sore and hopped out of bed."
She shook her head again, but the motion slowed as she realized he didn't believe her. He didn't want to. His fingers went to the snap on his jeans again and he opened them. She watched rigid with fear as he pushed the blue denim down over his slim hips. His gleaming black skin seemed to glisten in the dim light. The other two boys still held her ankles, and Chico's fingers dug into the soft flesh of her thighs.
"Can I finger-fuck her a little for you? Huh, Gunner, please?" Waldo leaned forward and hunched with his hand poised over her belly while he waited for the other one to answer.
"Yeah, go ahead."
Waldo's hand fell between her sticky thighs, his skinny fingers worming between the tangled mat of hair and digging into her wet cunt. He pinched her clitoris and then mashed his hand into the pulpy, wet pussy. He made soft raspy noises deep in his throat.
"Let her go," Gunner said to Chico, and the hand over her mouth released its grip. "You're not gonna yell, are you, baby? Your boyfriend may hear you and come back."
She knew he was right. She would not yell. Waldo's fingers searching and probing stirred the thick wetness that remained in her twat. She stared at the cock that had come into view as Gunner stepped out of his jeans. Almost invisible against his dark body, the penis hung limp over the black balls. He moved, and the organs between his legs swayed enticingly. She stared in complete fascination at the incredibly red cocktip that began to poke out of the black cocoon. He moved again and her eyes followed it.
She was only vaguely aware of Chico's hand on her breast, cupping and trying to capture the full, heavy melon. His fingers flicked over the nipple and it surged to instant attention. He rolled it between his fingers and hissed air between his teeth as the hard tip grew harder.
Waldo was watching his own play between her legs. "Christ, look at that cunt! Jeez, she's all wet and soft." He shot a quick look at Gunner. "Can I have some too, huh? After you? After Chico?" He was begging like an animal.
Gunner grinned. "Sure, why not." The long spearing organ began to move with twitching pokes upward. Waldo's hand mashed into her open snatch. Nancy wanted to die, to escape the horror that was truth. Instead, she felt her body tighten and ready itself for the adventure. It couldn't be. It just couldn't. Impossible! she screamed silently at her conscience. No!
But her body went on secreting thick cunt-juices to warm and wet her belly. She was shaking, but now it was not fear alone. She still was scared, but desire had taken first place. She wanted the glowing, red-tipped cock inside her. Her eyes followed it as it bounced into a full erection and seemed to expand to three times its size. The heavy black hose gleamed and waited.
She licked her lips and breathed through her mouth. Gunner knelt and moved up slowly between her legs. Waldo eased his hand out of her. Chico's hand lay still, cupping her tit. The world stopped moving.
The glistening red tip moved closer and Gunner fell forward on his hands, supporting his weight as he guided the spear to its target. It touched her cuntmouth, pressed, pierced the curtains. It scraped across her clitoris and sent violent shivers through her. It plunged into her pussy and she gasped and raised her legs to clutch him to her. She saw his quick smile and closed her eyes as her need overwhelmed her and filled her. She tried to lay very still but could not. The boy began to pound his organ into her, and in moments her body quivered with the hot, twisting passion that arose instantly in her snatch. She closed her mind, refusing the guilt that tried to seep through her lust, turning away everything but the hot violence that consumed her. A huge wave covered her and she could not breathe. Her body was tossed back and forth on the peak of the wave, slipping for a few seconds to the low trough only to be pulled back to another crest. Her body struggled, relaxed, struggled anew. Wave after wave swept her.
"Christ!"
"Look at her go!"
Sweat filmed Gunner's slapping torso.
"You comin', Gun? Are ya? Huh?" Waldo's face was pressed almost at the juncture of the two bodies.
"Wow! Yeah! I'm coming!"
Nancy felt the hot eruption fill her. Somewhere from a very far place someone cried softly. "Yesss! More! More!"
"Look at her lap it up! Hurry, man, let me in there!"
Cool air. Sweat. Pressure. New fire. The distant voice called softly again. "Yes, harder!" The firm, ripe prick blew itself up like a balloon inside her.
"Shit, move before I lose mine right now! My turn. Move goddamn it!"
Hard stabbing jabs and wet smacking sounds. Nancy plummeted over a new peak of overheated passion and need. Her legs clutched the new form and pulled him into her body. The slippery wet tunnel closed around the darting spear. Thrust, pull, thrust, pull.
"Goddamn! Christ, what a fuck!"
New waves of pleasure rocked and rolled through Nancy's limp body. She had met complete satisfaction, filled to overflowing with the hot loads the three boys had poured into her ready and waiting cunt. It had been violent and harsh but lovely and long lasting. Even now, as Waldo climbed off her, she felt a sense of emptiness. She lay still, eyes closed.
"Christ!"
"We'd better blow this scene."
"Shit, I dunno if I can walk! What a fuck!"
"Is she okay?"
"Yeah. She came like a fucking whore! Man did she take mine."
"Me too."
"Let's get out of here."
Silence. Soft footsteps. The lock clicking back. Quick running steps back toward the bedroom. Nancy opened her eyes.
Gunner was standing by the mattress looking down at her. His white teeth flashed in a quick grin. Her tongue came between her teeth. With a quick motion of his hand, Gunner threw something at her. It landed softly on her naked breasts and her arm moved up to catch it. Then he turned and ran softly out again. In a second, she heard the door squeeze open, then shut again with a click of the lock.
She lifted the white cloth. Gunner's T-shirt. She pressed it to her face and began to cry softly.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE EMPTY APARTMENT grew silent around her. For a long time Nancy lay huddled on the mattress trying to sort her strange emotions. Her body quivered with the delight of the orgasm she had experienced. She knew she should be horrified, ashamed, but the feelings were only a vague undercurrent to her pleasure. No matter how hard she tried to bring them forth, they were washed away by her tingling joy. It was only the thought of the danger she might still be in that finally roused her.
She sat up and looked around the room. The decaying apartment was musty and stale. Through an open door, she saw the bathroom. She stumbled to her feet clutching the shirt Gunner had tossed her. She collected the remnants of her dress and carried them with her as she made her way to the bathroom. Her bare feet felt the sting of the grime and dust that covered the floor. She wished she had picked up her shoes, but it was too late to worry about that now. She breathed a sigh of relief when she turned the tap and rusty water gushed out in splashing spurts. Quickly, she used the scraps of her dress to wash her thighs and crotch. The heavy mixture of the three orgasms was all over her, and she scrubbed it off. Once she caught a glimpse of herself in the stained, dark mirror over the sink and she looked away quickly. She didn't know the stranger in the glass.
Finally, she threw away the cloth and rinsed her hands. She forced herself to look in the mirror and try to smooth her hair and wipe the smudges from her face. It wasn't much of an improvement, but it was the best she could do. She put on the shirt and studied her reflection. The shirt came halfway down her thighs, and, although the cloth was thin and slinky, it at least covered her nudity. Her breasts pressed out on the knit and the outlines of her nipples showed. But the cotton dress was a heap of scraps, and this was better than nothing.
She crossed the dingy apartment to the door. She weighed the risk of the hall against that of the fire escape, and each offered its own peril. At least the stairs would give her the opportunity to cut off a view from the upper floor. She decided on them.
She listened at the door for several seconds to make sure everything was quiet. Then she opened it slowly and carefully. The hall outside was dimly lit and its grime surpassed that of the empty apartment. The building was ancient. Huge patches of paint peeled from the walls, and they hung motionless in the stagnant air. The hall smelled of old age and too many people living in it for too long. She realized with surprise that it was actually a tenement. The apartment upstairs, Cora's, had been so well-kept she had been misled. Obviously, much of the rest of the building was falling apart. She wondered how many other apartments stood empty.
Very cautiously, she eased the door open and stepped into the hall. She drew the door shut behind her, holding the knob so no telltale click betrayed her movements. She needed all the advantage of silence. She tiptoed across the landing and leaned over the dusty banister to peer down the stairwell. Then she looked up. A cockroach scampered along a crack opposite her and she folded her arms across her breasts with a shudder.
Moving on tiptoes, she went to the top step and started down. The old steps creaked and the noise sounded like an explosion in her tense mind. But reason told her the sound would not carry unless someone were listening for it. She hadn't heard the three boys when they left. Or had they left? The sudden thought stopped her for an instant. Maybe they lived here, in the building, right on this floor.. She shuddered again and continued down.
The next landing was a replica of the one she'd left. Dirt and litter covered the floor, and she envisioned all kinds of scurrying bugs sliding across the surface right under her feet. Her stomach was a hard knot of fear.
Another flight. Below she could see the grimy windowed door that led to the vestibule. It was the street level. Her heart pounded as she hurried down the steps.
The door was curtain-less but the heavy coating of grease and dirt made the glass opaque. She stood peering through it. The building opened above the street level like most Manhattan brownstones. Beyond the wedge of the steps, she caught a glimpse of the litter-strewn street and the empty sidewalk. There were no cars parked here. Across the way she could see the flat naked wall of a factory or warehouse. If she only knew where she was. She weighed the risk of staying in the sanctuary of the dark hall with the unknown peril of the street. Either one made her shiver. But she knew that she had to get out, and get as far from here as possible. Tony and Joe might be looking for her still, might be on their way down-or back-right now. She smothered a sob. She had to go out. She had to find someone to help her. She glanced down at the shirt that was her only covering and knew there was no chance of her moving along the street without being noticed.
She turned the knob and tried to open the door. It stuck and she jerked hard at it. It flew open with a clatter of loose glass and weak wood. The sound was an explosion in her ears, and she whimpered and held her breath. The echoes died in the heavy silence. She breathed again.
She was almost through the doorway when she saw the man. It was a glimpse only, as he came along the sidewalk below. His face was turned so she saw only an image without details, but she froze in fear. She backed against the frame, ready to dart into the dim protection of the hall. In horror, she saw the man swerve and start up the steps. She gasped and retreated in panic, shoving the door almost closed behind her but not stopping to latch it. She glanced around for a hiding place. She would be caught on the stairs, and anyhow they led back to the trap of the apartment above. She ran down the black corridor that went along the side of the steps. There was no bulb to illuminate the darkness.
Behind her she heard the clatter of the outside door as the man opened it. Frantically, she looked for a hiding place. There was a dark yawning cavity under the stairs. But there was no time to think. She darted into it and pressed herself against the wall in trembling fear. She held her breath in lungs that threatened to burst and listened.
The inside door creaked and groaned. Heavy footsteps rang on the bare wood floor. A step groaned under a weight. Then another, and another. The man was going upstairs. When his steps moved along the landing above her, she let her breath out very slowly. She didn't move from the wall or even dare breathe freely until she heard him start up another flight. Even then, she listened carefully.
She had not seen him well enough to recognize him. It couldn't be Joe since he was too tall, but it might have been Tony. The clothes were different, but he could have donned other garments after the orgy in which she'd left him. And her mind refused to dredge up a picture of the third man, Max. He was still a shadowy image at the corner of her frightened vision. But the picture would not come into focus.
She was too scared to move. Yet she knew she could not stay here. But if the man came down again, would she find another place to hide? On the street she would be readily seen and recognized. Tony might even be watching from a window above. She choked off a sob as she tried to figure out what to do next. If she only knew where she was.
She pressed her hands behind her on the wall. With a start, she realized that she was leaning on a door. She could feel the ridged panel of the wood, the carved frame. Very slowly, she slipped her hand along the surface until she found the knob. She stood very still and listened. The black hall breathed with her. She turned and listened again. Only the musty silence met her. Very slowly, she turned the knob and felt it give. She inched the door open and peered into the new gloom beyond. She held her breath and waited.
Nothing. Absolute silence and unmoving air met her. She pushed the door open another inch. The room beyond was only slightly lighter than the hall. It seemed to be part of an apartment and it seemed to be empty although not vacant. She could make out the outline of a large chair near the window opposite the door, and the corner of a dresser.
Someone lived here. Once again she was torn with indecision. Everything presented a threat of one kind or another. Did she dare risk the apartment in the hope of finding a phone or help? Or should she take her chances on the street?
A small sound somewhere above her made the decision for her. She didn't wait long enough to make sure it was a step. The creaking board panicked her, and she opened the door and slid past it. She closed it quickly and quietly behind her and leaned against it as she tried to look around the tiny room. Her body was tense from listening for any sound behind her in the hall.
After a few moments, she partially relaxed. If it had been someone up there, he was gone now. No footsteps made a trail to this spot in search of her.
She had probably been frightened by a mouse, or maybe a rat, scurrying over the landing above. And now that she was inside the room, she might be safe for a moment.
She glanced around, searching each-likely place for a phone. But the dresser top was cluttered with odds and ends. A sofa bed on one wall spilled some of its stuffing onto the worn linoleum of the floor. A tattered woman's slipper with a very run-over heel jutted under one corner of the sofa. A small box stood at the side of the bed to act as a table. On it a dirty glass and an overflowing ashtray sat.
The room held an odor of stale smoke and people. But it seemed to be empty. The window she had seen from the doorway faced a brick wall and the thick coating of dust on it showed that it hadn't been opened for a very long time. At the front of the room a door was shut on the rest of the apartment. She forced her legs into motion and moved across the cool linoleum to it. With her fingertips, she tapped lightly on the panel.
Nothing. Silence. Again she turned the knob carefully and pushed the door gently open. This room was slightly lighter because of the two windows that bayed out at the front. It was long and narrow and sparsely furnished. A living room of sorts. The decrepit furniture sagged against the colorless walls and the threadbare rug that once may have had a design but now was down to the backing. A sofa with tattered doilies on the back and arms. A pile of clothes heaped on one end of a painted kitchen table. Another table holding a two-burner hotplate with a black frying pan and a small pot on it.
She looked at the windows. Shreds of lace curtains drooped over the dirty panes. Did the street lie beyond them? She glanced around the room once more and then crossed to the windows. Standing back so she could not be seen from the street if anyone looked, she peered out. It was the street. And right outside the glass, the steps that had led from the vestibule to the sidewalk made an angle across the view. And at the bottom of the steps, Joe leaned against the railing smoking a cigarette as casually as though he hadn't a worry in the world.
For a moment, Nancy's heart pounded so loud she was sure he would hear it. She backed away from the window, amazed that the man could be so brazen on the street when the entire police force of the city was probably looking for him right this minute. If only she could find a phone. But the dismal apartment hadn't revealed one yet. From the looks of the rooms, the occupant was probably too poor to afford one.
She glanced up and down the street outside. Factories and warehouses lined the opposite side. The sidewalks were empty. For all she knew, this might be the only house. She'd read of old buildings like this that had held out against the encroaching industrialism. And there was at least one vacant apartment in the building that she knew of. Maybe the owner was letting the building go to ruin as his tenants moved away. Maybe the building was supposed to be empty. No one would look for her here. Or for the thieves. No wonder
Joe was so bold.
He turned then, and she saw him move up the steps. She cowered farther away from the glass in terror, backing quietly across the room. Without any light in here, she knew he could not see her, but she was frightened anyhow. She listened to the soft rasp of the doors in the hall and then tried to identify the direction of his footsteps. But for all its age and decay, the house was too thick to let the sounds penetrate. Or Joe moved too quietly. That thought startled her and made her whirl quickly to make sure he wasn't behind her.
For the first time, she saw the other door. It was a few feet from the one through which she'd entered. It stood ajar a few inches. And in the space something moved. She stared in mute terror. The flutter whispered again and the door moved, opening slowly. In the widening gap she saw the huge circle of the wheel on the chair. The door moved more. A figure in an ancient, high, cane-backed wheelchair peered at her.
CHAPTER NINE
FOR AN ETERNITY, the two pair of eyes stared at each other. Shock and relief filled Nancy. For a second, she forgot the strange appearance she made and thought of her intrusion in the apartment.
"I'm sorry," she whispered hoarsely, "I-I didn't know anyone was here." The words sounded inane, and she tried to explain. Her voice was still barely loud enough to carry across the room. She took a tentative step forward. "I didn't mean to break in!" A sob caught in her throat. The figure huddled in its shadows and waited.
"Oh, please," she begged desperately, "I need help! Do you have a telephone?"
The figure hunched forward and propelled the chair through the open doorway. She watched the indistinct figure, head bowed and hair matted to the shoulders. Metal rasped on metal as the chair came toward her. It stopped two feet from her and the form moved, looking up.
It was a man. His face was thin and twisted. His deep-set eyes were dull but intent on her face. For a moment, she thought he was retarded or witless, but then she saw that the emptiness in his look was a mirror of the pain and torment of his warped body. His chin was covered with dark stubble. His bony figure curled over the black rubber of the wheels. Very slowly, his eyes moved up her bare legs, over the loose shirt, to her face.
"What do you want?" His voice was hoarse and thick as though he didn't use it much.
"Please, forgive me for coming in this way! But there's a-someone is after me. I had to get away!" Some of her panic edged through the words.
His dark eyes stared vacantly and his mouth twisted. "How'd you get in?" His voice was flat and toneless.
"Under the stairs. The door..."
A glimmer of surprise crossed his face. "No one uses that door. I must have forgot to lock it."
"I'm sorry, really, but I had to get away." She was shivering with relief and fear, not knowing if she had at least found the help she desperately needed.
"Who's after you?" he asked suspiciously and his glance darted to the window. He showed no fear. It was more like wonder at finding a woman in his room.
She hesitated. "A man. Oh, please, you've got to believe me. Please help me!"
He stared again and his head tilted to one side as though the effort of holding it up was too much for him. It jerked back slightly on a tired muscle and his eyes narrowed.
He is retarded, she thought. At least not very bright. Did he understand? More important, would he be able to help or would his dullness block him? He looked about twenty-five or so but he might have been younger. How long had he been in the wheelchair? And how did he manage here? A new thought struck her.
"Do you live here alone?" she asked.
Fear darkened his face. "No, I'm not alone!
Mama will be back any minute!" He was afraid of her. She saw it now. Because of his handicap, he was as terrified of her as she had been of him at first. It was natural since she had invaded his apartment when he thought he was alone and safe.
Nancy dropped to her knees in front of the chair so he wouldn't have to look up at her and hold his neck rigid. His head slumped forward immediately but his eyes followed her face. "Please don't be afraid, I'm not going to hurt you! I didn't mean to come in and scare you. I just had to get away before he caught me again." She tried to smile.
His silence was heavy and long. Finally, his mouth worked silently over his teeth for several seconds. Then he asked, "Who?" The harsh sound had a tinge of fear to it.
It took her a few moments to realize what he meant. Once again the hopelessness of the truth swamped her but she had no choice. Her frightened and confused mind could not concoct any story that was more believable. Without elaborating, she told him, "Some men upstairs kidnapped me." His eyes burned into her face. She couldn't look into them. She clasped her hands tightly in her lap as she squatted in front of him, and she stared down at them. "They tore my clothes and tied me up. I escaped out the window and through an empty apartment upstairs." The truth but not all of it. It was better this way. Besides, she couldn't talk about the other things that had happened. Or the boys in the empty apartment. She realized that she was still dressed in the scanty shirt and nothing else. She could feel the flat eyes still on her.
She was aware of the tiny rasp of his breath as she huddled before him. When she finally looked up, he looked puzzled. Could it be that he didn't understand any of what she had said. New panic shook her. "Do you have a telephone?"
He stared, then shook his head. Her heart sank. But he had talked of his mother coming back. Clothes. If she had something to wear, she might be able to venture out on the street.
"Where is your mother?"
His eyes were frightened. "Mama will be right back. Right back." He looked away from her face and around the room as though in search of help. He was frightened, and Nancy felt sorry for him. Cooped up in the dingy apartment all day, alone, crippled and tied to his wheelchair. No wonder he was scared. She lifted her hand and touched his thin knee in the cotton slacks. There was no response from the flesh at all. It felt cold and lifeless.
"I won't hurt you. Don't be frightened."
He looked like a cornered animal. She tried to reassure him with another smile, but he looked as if he would jerk away from her touch if it were in his power.
"My name is Nancy," she said, speaking softly and quietly. "I won't hurt you if you'll just let me stay here awhile. Until the man goes away. When your mother comes home I'll explain to her."
The sound of her voice calmed him and some of the panic faded from his expression. His flat eyes followed any tiny motion she made. Again, Nancy felt sorry for him. Obviously he did not go out or meet people very often. He had the look of an animal living in a dark cave. Despite her own predicament, Nancy couldn't help but feel sorry for him. To live like this would be a living death.
For a long time the room was silent, with the two figures looking at each other. Finally the man in the wheelchair said, "I'm Henry."
"Hello, Henry."
He smiled hesitantly, with stiff muscles that were out of practice. But the smile put some light in his eyes and he didn't look as dull. Nancy suddenly became aware of her cramped legs and she moved them out from under her and sat on the floor. She was tired. Very tired, and the relief at not having to run again overwhelmed her. In the quiet room, the two people sat looking at each other.
The soft sound of a key in a lock startled Nancy and she stiffened and whirled, searching the room to find the source. Henry looked puzzled at her reaction, but he didn't turn around. "It's Mama," he said, and again the light was in his eyes.
Nancy waited tensely. Across the room, a door opened and a shapeless figure in a soiled cotton dress and sagging stockings and slipper-like shoes came into the apartment. She closed the door behind her and snapped the bolt. She shuffled across the linoleum to the wheelchair, her eyes on her son and not noticing the newcomer until she was right on them. Then, with a suddenness that startled Nancy, her face twisted in anger and her body stiffened.
"Who are you?" she demanded. Her body was tense, ready to spring.
Nancy was abruptly aware of her hand still on the boy's leg, and she pulled back quickly. "I can explain."
The woman stepped closer and her pale eyes danced with fury. "Get out of here! Get out!"
"Mama, she's nice. Don't make her go away." Henry's voice was like a child's. It made his mother turn and when she looked at him her expression softened. She frowned, puzzled. She backed up and laid her hand on Henry's shoulder.
"Who is she?" It was a hoarse whisper.
"Her name is Nancy. She's running away. Let her stay. Please." It was a very long speech for him and his head lolled forward when he completed it as though it had tired him. His mother lifted her hand and stroked his head. Something inside Nancy tightened but she couldn't identify it.
After several minutes, the woman turned back to Nancy. "Who are you runnin' from?" It was more curiosity than concern.
Very quickly, Nancy told her the events that had brought her here. Again, she skipped the details of the sexual encounters and the boys in the empty apartment. Yet, as the woman looked at her, the glance took in her appearance, and Nancy felt shame and the surety that the woman knew the untold parts of the story. Yet even knowing tin's, Nancy did not blush. It was as though she had to accept the past, could not change it, could not be responsible for it. The subtle change in her attitude left Nancy with an objectiveness about herself. She was someone else, someone who bore no resemblance to the girl who had gone to work at the bank-was it only this morning? She waited for Henry's mother to speak.
The woman's tired face was a mask. It was Henry who broke the silence. "Let her stay, Mama."
The sound of his voice did something to the woman and she looked back at the boy in the chair. "Okay, Henry." With that, she turned and walked across the room to where the hotplate sat on the table. She dropped her limp purse to a shelf and picked up a pan. She carried it to the door where Henry had emerged when Nancy first saw him. Leaving the door open behind her, the woman turned on a tap and ran water into the pan. The sink was close to the door, and beyond it Nancy saw the dim outline of a toilet and an ancient tub. The woman came back and set the pan on the burner.
With a smile of thanks at Henry, Nancy got up and went over to the woman. "Thank you, Mrs.-" She realized that she didn't know the name.
The woman made no effort to supply it. She snapped on the burner and bent to lift a bag of potatoes from the floor. She pulled three of them out and shoved the bag back where it had come from.
"Can I help you?" Nancy asked. Somehow she sensed the hostility that still tinged the woman's attitude. She had given in to her son, not the stranger.
Now she turned her expressionless eyes on Nancy. "Sure." She held out the knife and the potato she had picked up. Nancy began to peel it.
The woman poked around under the table. She came up with a can of meat and began working at the metal tab. By the time Nancy had the potatoes cut and in the water, the woman had sliced the meat and lit the burner under the greasy frying pan. She dropped the thick slabs of cold meat into the bubbling grease.
"Thank you for letting me stay," Nancy ventured. "If I could only get to a phone-"
"Ain't no phone here."
"I know, Henry told me. Is there one nearby? A store maybe? A neighbor?"
The snort preceded her answer. "Nope. Nearest store is eight blocks from here."
"Surely there must be other people living here. Doesn't anyone have a phone?" Nancy's voice rose on a tiny note of panic.
The woman's eyes lost their dull apathy. "That woman upstairs is the only other tenant in the building.
That woman. Cora. Nancy gripped the edge of the table and shivered. It couldn't be.
The woman's mouth twisted into something that barely resembled a smile, and reminded Nancy of the pained look that she had seen on Henry's face. "The building was condemned six months ago. The landlord ain't allowed to rent out flats when people move out. That woman is still up there and we're still down here. Nobody else."
Nancy's palms were damp with sweat. "What about other buildings? Next door?"
The woman shook her head. "Them that's still standing is empty. The city is going to tear 'em all down next spring." Her eyes went flat again. "We gotta be out then."
Nancy sank back against the table and tried to grasp the full meaning of the words. No other neighbors. The factory across the street. Now she recalled the blank wall she had seen. It too was empty. No cars on the street. No people walking by. And Joe standing so casually at the foot of the steps. No wonder he hadn't been afraid of being seen. There was no one to see him.
Her mind weighed the two sides of the truth. With no one around, she at least did not have to fear being seen and the word getting to the men who had captured her. But, with empty streets and buildings, she would be very obvious if anyone upstairs spotted her. She could not be mistaken for another tenant, even if she were to find something less obvious than the T-shirt to wear. Anyone moving on the street would come under the close scrutiny of those upstairs.
Unless ... unless they thought she was already gone. Would they believe she had made good her escape, continued down the fire escape to the street and then run quickly away? They had checked the apartment, probably all of them along the fire escape route. But if they knew the building was empty, had they really believed Gunner's story at the door?
She felt the woman's look and lifted her head. The flat, cold eyes were bleak. She had to get the woman to help her. But how?
"When it gets dark, I can go," she said hesitantly. The woman's expression didn't alter. "Where are we? What street is this?" How far is help? she thought.
"East Third. Near the river."
It told Nancy nothing. She had learned so little of the city in the few months she'd been here. With sudden clarity, Nancy realized the life of exile in which she'd existed.
"If you could lend me something to wear? After dark I'm sure I can get away."
The woman's eyes traveled over the younger girl's figure almost angrily. It was as if she were weighing the idea of seeing the girl in something she might supply. She shrugged. "Maybe." The potatoes boiled over splashing water onto the hot plate and filling the room with the sharp sizzling sound. She turned and snapped the burner down a notch.
Another thought struck Nancy. "Do-does the woman upstairs know you live here?"
She nodded. Nancy looked quickly at Henry who was watching them from his chair. "Did anyone knock at your door before I came?"
Henry's mouth worked soundlessly and he finally shook his head.
Why hadn't Tony or Joe checked here? Did they know that Henry sat alone, locked in by day? Were they waiting only for the woman to come home? Would they be back? The thought made her shudder. Or were they already packing up to flee? They wouldn't risk staying in the apartment if they thought she had escaped and might bring the police at any moment. A sob bubbled up in her throat and she realized how frightened she still was. Would this nightmare ever end?
The woman used a spatula to turn over the crisping meat. The sickly odor of the hot grease made Nancy's stomach churn.
"There's some plates up there." The woman jerked the dripping spatula toward another shelf. Nancy quickly lifted down two plates and cups and set them on the table.
The woman glanced at them. "You can eat with us."
Nancy shook her head. "I'm not hungry." She wasn't. The thought of the food nauseated her.
Henry's mother shrugged and flipped the meat again. Then she used a fork to jab a piece of potato to test it. She got some forks and knives from a small tray and tossed them beside the plates. Then she walked over to Henry. Her expression changed as she looked at him and he tried to smile at her.
"Your dinner's ready, Henry," she said softly. Nancy watched her propel the chair to the table and pull the plate and silverware close enough for Henry to reach easily. Then she began serving the food, filling his plate at the stove and bringing it back to him. She waited until he had begun eating before she fixed her own plate and pulled up a scarred wooden chair and sat down.
There were no other chairs in the room, and Nancy stood watching the pair consume their food. It could hardly be called a meal. Neither of them spoke or looked up. They merely pushed food quickly into their mouths and polished it off as though their lives depended on it. She supposed they did, literally. These people ate to sustain themselves, nothing more. It was a part of their existence. A step in the monotony of their endless days. Nancy couldn't help feeling sorry for them and their hopelessness.
When they had finished, the woman poured hot water over a tea bag, lifting it from Henry's cup to her own. She found a sugar bowl on a shelf and dumped a huge amount into Henry's tea and stirred it for him. He lifted the cup with a shaking hand, and Nancy thought the hot liquid would spill down his shirt front, but he managed to sip at it without accident. Nancy lifted the plates and stacked them on the table by the stove.
"I'll wash them for you," she said. She glanced toward the bathroom which seemed to have the only supply of water. "In there?"
The woman nodded, and Nancy moved to the tiny bathroom. She looked for a light but couldn't locate the switch or cord in the gloom. like the woman, she left the door open behind her and worked in the semidarkness. There was no stopper in the sink and only the bar of hand soap to use. The water that came from either tap was cold, barely tepid.
She concentrated on scrubbing the thick grease from the dishes. Above the running water the sound startled her. She almost dropped the plate, catching it just before it hit the porcelain that was dark gray in the gloom. She looked at the mother and son at the table in the other room. Automatically, her hand twisted the faucet to stop the water's flow.
Henry's mother pushed herself to her feet very slowly. She glanced at the girl and then at Henry. Henry tilted his head and smiled vacantly at her. She walked to answer the door.
CHAPTER TEN
TERROR OVERWHELMED NANCY and she stepped back quickly behind the open door. Her hand still clutched the wet plate, and drops of water dribbled onto her legs and feet unnoticed. She pressed as far back against the edge of the tub as possible. The tiny quarters didn't leave her much hiding room but at least the angle of the door shielded her from view. She held her breath.
In the other room, the woman's voice asked, "Who is it?"
Nancy couldn't make out the muffled reply but she heard the bolt slip back and the door open. "Hello, Mrs. Scarp."
"Hello, Miss Louis." The woman's voice was almost pleasant as she answered Cora's greeting.
Cora. Not Joe or Tony. The woman upstairs.
"I saw you come home from work. Have you finished eating?"
"Yeah, just having our tea."
"Hello, Henry. How are you?"
Henry made a small grunting sound. "Fine, Miss Cora."
Nancy heard the raspy wheelchair turn. They both seemed so friendly with Cora. Were they going to turn her in now, admit her presence? Or had they believed her story. Nancy had to guard each breath to keep it soundless. Her heart was pounding, it seemed impossible that the people in the other room couldn't hear it.
"Did you have a good day?" Cora asked pleasantly. Her voice was closer now. The woman had let her into the apartment. "Uh-huh."
"Sort of warm," Cora said. "Terrible outside."
Neither Henry nor his mother answered.
"I'm going to the store after a bit. Anything I can get for you, Mrs. Scarp?" Cora's voice possessed controlled politeness but it lacked warmth. Nancy had the feeling the woman was looking around the apartment carefully.
"No. I don't get paid till tomorrow," Henry's mother answered flatly.
There was a heavy silence. Then, "Maybe I can come down and visit with you awhile this weekend, Henry. We can talk."
"Uh-huh."
"You get pretty lonesome sitting here all day by yourself." Cora's comment was a subtle probe and Nancy realized she was trying to find out if he'd seen anyone, her.
Again, Henry grunted a noncommittal sound.
"Well, you're sure I can't get you anything?" Cora's quest was over. She had not found what she hoped to find, but she had convinced herself that the two people were alone in the dingy apartment. Nancy shuddered to think what might have happened if she had agreed to a cup of tea instead of clearing the dishes. A third cup on the table would have given her away.
"Thanks," Mrs. Scarp was saying, and the voice was coming from across the room again. Cora was leaving!
"Goodbye. I'll see you soon, Henry."
"Uh-huh."
The door closed. The bolt shot back in its metal track. The apartment was silent. Nancy moved very slowly from behind the door and peered into the room. Mrs. Scarp was turning Henry's chair back to the table. Then she sat down and sipped at her tea. Nancy ventured out.
She looked at Mrs. Scarp who did not look up. "Thank you," she whispered.
Henry gave her part of a twisted smile and his fingers closed around the hot cup. "You can stay," he said carefully.
His mother stared into the eddies of steam rising from the cup. Her face was a blank mask again, and Nancy had the uneasy feeling that she was biding time. But for what?
The trio fell silent again in the darkening gloom. Nancy wondered what time it was, but there was no clock around that she could see. When Henry and Mrs. Scarp finally finished their tea, she took the cups to wash them in the bowl. When she returned, Henry and his mother were in very quiet conversation in the doorway leading to the back bedroom where she'd entered the apartment. She hesitated, not wanting to intrude and not knowing what to do. She placed the cups back on the shelf and stood near the stove.
Mrs. Scarp looked over at her. "It'll be dark soon."
Nancy nodded. The woman stared at her in silence for several seconds. "You want to rest a little? You can use my bed." She jerked her thumb toward the room behind her. "In there."
Nancy moved forward. "If you have something I can wear?"
The woman moved out of the doorway and closer to her son. "I'll look. Not dark enough yet."
Reluctantly, Nancy moved into the other room. Mrs. Scarp closed the door firmly but quietly behind her. Nancy felt a shiver of apprehension at the finality with which she had been shut out. She couldn't figure out what Mrs. Scarp was up to. Was she going to tell Cora that the escapee was here? But if that was her plan, why didn't she simply do it when Cora had been here in the apartment? There were too many questions in her mind for Nancy to take the woman at face value. For a moment Nancy let her fear overwhelm her. Remembering the horror of her captivity upstairs, she wanted to bolt, flee right now. But then she thought of the way Henry had asked his mother to let her stay. He did want to help her. He wouldn't let his mother harm her or tell on her. The middle-aged woman doted on the crippled son. She wouldn't do anything to hurt him, Nancy was sure.
Finally, Nancy stretched out on the messed bed. She hadn't realized how tired she was until she caught herself drifting into a light doze. She jerked awake and tried to stay alert, but the languor overtook her again. The heat and excitement and her loss of sleep the night before carried her first to a light doze then into heavy slumber. Shadows invaded her mind, dreams pursued her. Fear and pleasure filled her as the dark hands of sleep caressed her body and brought new longing to it. The sex that she had dreaded so long and that had now become such a joy to her body made her shiver in the comforting arms of the twilight. Even though fear still marred her escape, it could not erase the new delight her flesh had discovered. Nancy smiled, alive with the knowledge that she was no longer a virgin, filled with the fresh need for sex her body would bring her. And somehow she was filled with the knowledge that she would find fulfillment for the need.
She came up from the dregs of sleep slowly and reluctantly. Her awareness of her surroundings filtered back slowly. When she opened her eyes, the room was black. How long had she slept? Her body was still heavy with fatigue and drowsiness, yet something had altered her. She strained to the silence.
The soft sound came again. Nancy sat up with a jolt of terror. But the sound became a repeated pattern in the dark night. It was a soft whimpering sound, almost a cry. It was not a sound of stealth or of alarm. And it was coming from the apartment, not outside.
Nancy swung her legs cautiously over the side of the cot and sat listening. The muted cry came from the other room where Henry and his mother were. Had the mother gone out? Was Henry alone and in pain? She listened again. Then, very slowly she got to her feet and, with hands outstretched to guide her through the blackness, felt her way along the length of the bed. At the foot, her fingers encountered the doorknob of the entrance under the stairs. For a moment, she was consumed with the thought of pulling the door open and fleeing the apartment and the horror with which the building had enveloped her. But the dark unknown beyond the door was even more terrifying now in the night. By day, she had seen her captors outside on the street, heard them here in the building. But with the blackness, they too were shrouded-and they might be right outside.
Once more she moved cautiously along the wall toward the door leading to the other end of the tiny apartment. She almost stumbled over some low object that her memory could not place, but she caught herself without falling or making a clatter. Then she found the knob of the other door.
In the stillness, unbroken except for the tiny whimper from the other side of the panel, Nancy's heart thumped against her ribs. If Henry was in trouble or pain, she could not ignore him. In the entire nightmare of the day, he had been the only person who had wanted to help her. It had been his plea that had made his mother let Nancy stay, shielded her from Cora's searching visit.
She turned the knob and moved the door very slowly. Through the slit a dim light flickered. The sound rose and fell softly, and with it, another sound even more muffled kept a staccato beat. Puzzled, Nancy forgot to be afraid and slipped the door open enough so she could peer into the front room of the apartment. She gripped the edge of the door and stared across the cavern of gloom to the sofa.
Henry was lying on it. He was naked. On the floor next to the couch was a basin of water and a towel. Obviously, his mother had bathed him. But now, she crouched on her knees at the side of the sofa, her bony hands rubbing his legs and belly like a masseuse. Her fingers kneaded his flesh, lingered sometimes to work a spot eagerly. Her body partially blocked Nancy's view, shielding Henry's crotch. Her shoulders heaved and her head moved up and down slowly. Then, with a twisting movement, she slumped backward slightly on her heels. It was then that Nancy understood.
Mrs. Scarp was holding her son's erect cock in her mouth, sucking it gently but eagerly. Henry's soft moans were the sound she'd heard. And the accompaniment was his mother's sighs of gulping satisfaction as she licked and lapped at the heavy prick.
Nancy watched numbly. Somehow, she was almost beyond shock. Her fingers were paralyzed on the edge of the door, her gaze riveted on the scene unfolding before her. Only one dim lamp was lit near the head of the couch but it cast enough light to clearly show the two.
Nancy was surprised at the firmness of the man's cockstalk. As it slipped in and out of the woman's mouth, it looked huge-as big as either of the men's upstairs who had first taken her by force.
Mrs. Scarp withdrew her lips from the glistening prick and slid her tongue across it once before gripping it firmly in her fist. She smiled at Henry and began to pump the hand up and down on the swollen cock. Her other hand swept over his belly in long strokes, touching across the thatch of pubic hair and then reaching into it and under the prize her other hand held to touch and fondle his balls. Henry whimpered.
The woman spoke so softly Nancy barely heard. "Yes, darling, yes. Mama's here. Everything is going to be all right, you'll see." She leaned forward and kissed the gleaming tip of the cock and forced her tongue into the tiny slit. Henry moaned again.
"Don't I always make everything all right?" She was almost crooning to him. "Mama's here, it's all right. There, feel how nice that is? You've gotten all hard and full. You're almost ready to come. You want to come, yes, you want to come." All the while she talked, her hand punctuated her words. The woman's face was rapt with joy and need. Her glazed eyes moved from her son's face down his naked body and to the thick heavy column of flesh she held in her hand.
The impact of the scene hit Nancy as she watched from the doorway. Her conscience told her she should be horrified by what she was seeing, but her mind refused this verdict. Instead she was fascinated. Fascinated by the glistening, gleaming cock that stood so erect from the limp torso of the sick man. Paralyzed. But not completely. Henry was unable to move his legs, to walk, but his organs readily responded to the need that stirred them. And alone in this grim apartment, he had no one-no one but his mother. He was the prisoner of a helpless body and a dull mind, yet he was a man. And just as she had taken care of him all his life, Mrs. Scarp was taking care of him now. Her thin, strong hands, gnarled with work and time, caressed her boy gently.
In the doorway, Nancy discovered she was breathing through her mouth in ever-increasing bursts of air. She shivered in the warm, still air, but not with cold. A tight band curled around her chest and belly, causing an ache inside her. In the flickering shadows of the dimly lighted room, the dream shadows filled Nancy again and roused her need. Or maybe it was the sight of this naked maleness, the naked need of the man who had befriended her. With sudden clarity, Nancy knew she wanted to fuck with Henry. She could not deny the hot, burning sensation in her body or the slow seeping wetness that had begun between her legs. Tiny shivers of desire raced up and down her thighs and she pressed them together to contain them and their joy. She tried again to feel guilt at the wrongness of the incest she watched, but she could only feel jealousy at her own lack of fulfillment.
Henry moaned and jerked his head on the small pillow. "What's the matter, darling?" Mrs. Scarp crooned.
"Mmmmm, uuuggghhh!" The man's cry was a plaintive wail of need. Nancy's eyes were intent on the throbbing shaft of hard flesh in his mother's hand.
Mrs. Scarp seemed to understand the unintelligible cry. "All right, darling, all right." She stood up slowly, releasing the prick only when she was erect and could no longer reach his body. Very quickly, she unfastened the front of her housedress and let it drop to the floor. She wore a single undergarment, a shapeless one-piece thing of undetermined color. She pulled the thin strap down over her shoulders and let the covering slip down her body to expose her scrawny frame. She was thin, almost emaciated. Her skin was loose on her bones. She had narrow hips and her waistline was slim. Her breasts may once have been full and ripe, but now they sagged like dry pods on a branch. She kicked her slippers from her feet and moved closer to the couch.
Henry's eyes followed her, glazed but knowing. It was apparent that this same scene had been played many times and each of the actors knew his part. The woman climbed onto the sofa bed and straddled her son's motionless hips. She smiled at him. "Now, darling?"
Another mumbled animal sound came from the man's throat. His mother bent to kiss his lips lightly and then raised herself again to position her spread thighs over the stiff organ she had brought to life with her hands and mouth. Very carefully, she directed it into the sparse thatch of hair between her legs. She moved it back and forth a few times to excite him and herself further as she found the spot she wanted. Then very slowly, like a film running off its track, she let her weight down so that the man's cock, gripped in her hand, entered her cunt. Henry tried to curve his mouth into a smile but it was slack-jawed and lopsided. Even lying flat it was an obvious effort for him to control his muscles. Then his mother released her hand and let the heavy stem of his prick penetrate her cunt all the way. He made a sound.
For a moment, Mrs. Scarp was oblivious of everything but the pleasure that coursed through her body. She felt the hard column push into her barren twat stirring it to new life. She had secreted fluids enough to wet her tissues and welcome him. But as always it took this final thrust of him into her to bring her excitement to a pitch. Now she could feel her belly stirring. Memories of bygone years flooded back, and she lost herself in them. The man that was Henry's father ... They had played together in the wild abandon of youth, and had taken everything they wanted and needed. How often she had sat on his cock like this and ridden it to the mountainous heights of glory and orgasm. He had been a man all the way. It seemed ironical that their unbridled joy had produced such a caricature of a son. Yet she loved Henry. He was all she had. The man, the father, had not been ready for the responsibilities of marriage or a son, and had fled to greener pastures and warmer cunts when her pregnancy had begun to show. From then on, it had been nothing but a struggle to keep body and soul together, to produce the child she wanted and learn that he would never walk or grow to full manhood. The bitterness that had filled her during Henry's childhood eased as he grew and she knew that he would be hers always. She began to fuck him as soon as his delayed puberty showed that his cock and balls had not been completely impaired by the tragedy that had struck the rest of his mind and body. And so she brought him brief moments of happiness in his dull life. And at the same time she released the inner, twisted passions in her guts and found release for her frustrated sexual needs. Henry was hers.
She closed her eyes and threw her head back, remembering the way it had been with the man. Her body, heavy on Henry's unfeeling hips, began to move in rhythmic motions on the hard probe inside her belly. It took a long time to bring alive the stunted glands deep inside his body, but she didn't mind. She liked this part best, having her fill of him without worrying about it ending too soon. Once drained, Henry needed many hours to recover from the exertion and the outpouring of his body. She pumped her hips back and forth on the stiff cock.
Without opening her eyes, she spoke softly to him. "Mmmmmm, it's so big and hard in there, Henry. Just like any man who ever took a woman. You're a wonderful lover. Oh, Henry, yes, yes!" She pumped harder, forcing her crotch deep against his with each stroke, pulling back to enjoy the tugging firmness of his organ at her cunt lips. She was young again. She was a woman. She was quivering with need and desire. She forgot the years and the mistakes. She was filled with lust.
In the doorway, Nancy watched in mute fascination. As the woman lowered herself onto Henry's swollen cock, Nancy could almost imagine its penetrating warmth in her own body. The dampness on her thighs had become a steady flow of juice now, and her belly ached with the tight need in her cunt. She watched the thick prick disappear into the haven between the other woman's legs, panted for breath as the woman began to rock on the hard shaft of vibrant flesh. From the vantage point of the doorway, she could see, or imagine, the dark shadow of Henry's balls beneath his mother's skinny buttocks. The woman's flaccid breasts bounced against her bony ribs. She spoke to her boy softly but Nancy was beyond hearing words. She doubled over with pain and her own need, clutching her belly and gasping for air between her clenched teeth. She tried to stifle the cry that bubbled up from deep inside her but it escaped.
Henry's eyes opened, his head moved very slowly. Then he was looking right at Nancy. And his eyes, with sudden clarity, showed surprise, then very clearly, lust-for her.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
FOR A LONG time, they stared at each other. Nancy was very aware of the rasping breaths that tore from her throat and of her hands clutching her belly. Henry's eyes flicked up and down along the length of her figure framed in the doorway. The skimpy T-shirt had pulled up and he could see the dark triangle of hair below it. Something deep inside him grew to new life. His mind was confused at first, unable to separate the new thing from the need his mother had always filled. But he knew without a doubt that he wanted the girl.
Riding his cock, Mrs. Scarp was oblivious of everything but her own growing passion. Her body was bathed in light sweat, her cunt was a tight knot of impending climax. She kissed small sounds, and with her eyes still closed, pounded her son's hard cockshaft into her withered flesh.
"Ohhh, yes, Henry, yes! You're a man. My man! Ummmm, yesss, yesss, I want to come. Yesss!" She slammed her cunt onto the spearing handle and sent it high into her belly. It found the small triggering hole of her uterus and catapulted her over the brink of orgasm. She groaned in complete delight, savoring the hot outpouring of her body's fluids to bathe the hot ramrod that still held its secret. She let the overwhelming relief flood her, wash away the hours of drudgery in which she moved at all other times. These moments with Henry at night were the source of her life, and now she savored the rejuvenation through the orgasm.
After a long time, her body slowed and her eyes opened.
At first she didn't comprehend what she saw. The fact that Henry wasn't looking at her or even lying in closed-eyed anticipation took time to register in her sated mind. She pushed her wet cunt harder onto his cock, but his eyes remained fixed on something beyond her. His cock was still hard, but he was paying no attention to her. She slowed her motions and turned her head. She saw Nancy in the doorway and knew what Henry's hungry gaze had been devouring.
The room hung in silence except for the harsh sounds of three people breathing. Henry and Nancy were unaware of the woman until she moved-suddenly and violently. She yanked herself from her son's supine form and sprang across the small room. Her fingers curled like claws as she went for Nancy's face. Rage and jealousy erupted with such fire that the woman gave no thought to her actions. She acted out of animal instinct. She was a bitch in heat, and another bitch was trying to take her mate.
Nancy felt the impact of the first sting of the woman's hand on her cheek before she moved. She pulled back, bringing her hands up from her belly, forgetting the pain and need for the moment in face of the attack. She tried to grab the swinging arms, the flailing hands. The naked woman kicked and raised her knee to ram the girl. Nancy whimpered with surprise and fright but she fought back instinctively. She got hold of one wrist and twisted Mrs. Scarp's arm away. She used her other hand to block the blows the woman tried to rain on her head. Several of them found their mark but they didn't have enough power behind them to more than stun her momentarily. Finally, she managed to grab the other wrist.
Mrs. Scarp glared at her across the narrow gap of dimness. Her eyes were bright and smoldering. "Goddamn bitch. I should have thrown you out! Goddamn bitch!" Fury made her words slur and slide together in the soft silence.
"I'm sorry." As soon as she'd uttered the words, Nancy felt foolish. The woman was ready to kill her, and she was apologizing. But somehow it seemed important to let her know that she understood. "I heard sounds and thought..."
The woman was struggling to free herself now, and Nancy had to concentrate on not letting her go. The entire scene was almost silent except for the hushed, whispered words between them. They fought at arm's length, their bodies sometimes coming together in rough contact. Suddenly, Mrs. Scarp stopped and quickly turned her head to look at Henry. Nancy had barely been aware of the sound the boy had made, but his mother was tuned to his whimpering cry.
Henry's mouth twisted and his chin quivered as he tried to talk. Mrs. Scarp yanked her wrists from Nancy's grasp which released them willingly. The woman crossed to the couch. Nancy huddled against the doorframe.
"Don't hurt her, Mama."
"All right, darling. I won't." The woman knelt quickly beside him and pressed her head to his chest and put her hands on his thin shoulders. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you."
"Mama?"
"Yes, darling? It's all right. All right." The hands stroked at his cool flesh trying to soothe him.
"Mama?" It was louder and more insistent somehow although his tone hadn't changed.
Mrs. Scarp stopped stroking him. She was suddenly alert, even though she didn't move.
"I like her. She's nice."
"I know, dear. I'm sorry I upset you by hitting her."
"I like her."
Nancy heard the thick words repeated, and once again felt gratitude for the strange man-boy who was so helpless.
Henry's gaze came back to her in the doorway. She tried to smile. Then he said, "Mama? I want to be a man with her."
Mrs. Scarp jerked her head up as though his flesh had turned to molten steel. She looked at her son and the surprise in her expression took on the thin edge of hatred. Henry was too busy looking at Nancy to notice. Nancy was too stunned to think. Her body had wanted him as she watched his mother fondle and caress him. Her body and mind had wanted him totally as she watched the other woman fuck with his helpless body. But now, her mind blanked at the thought. She felt like she was caught in a vise, one that was squeezing her emotions and senses to a quivering pulp. Mrs. Scarp's hatred filled the tiny apartment.
Very slowly, the woman moved away from her son's body. She hunched on her heels on the floor. Her thin, naked body looked pathetic in the dirty yellow glow of the lamp. Next to her, Henry looked past her unseeingly, his stare still on Nancy. It was like a physical blow to the woman at his side.
In shock, Nancy shook her head in silent answer to Henry's desire. His eyes clouded for a moment, then became piercing again. "I want her, Mama." His monotone mesmerized both women but in different ways. Nancy could only shy away and shake her head again. It was impossible. She could not, would not. Mrs. Scarp drew a long, tired breath and her shoulders sagged as the air sighed from her soul.
"All right, darling. If that's what you want." Mrs. Scarp's tone was flat and lifeless and her body slumped forward. Very slowly she pushed herself up and got to her feet. Still nude and ugly, she crossed the room to Nancy and stared at her.
Again, Nancy's head jerked sideways in negation. If the woman noticed, she paid no attention. "He wants you to fuck him. He hasn't come yet. It always takes him a very long time because of the paralyzed muscles and his problem." She made her little speech as though she were asking Nancy to join her in a cup of tea again.
The full horror of the situation struck Nancy then, and her hand flew to her mouth and pressed against the cry that tried to erupt. Mrs. Scarp looked impatient and somewhat disbelieving. "He wants you. Go to him." It was an honor being bestowed the way she said it.
"No, I can't!" The words were a low whisper in the silent, dark room.
Mrs. Scarp frowned and her dark eyes glittered. Her absolute hatred of Nancy was naked in them, as naked as her scrawny flesh. "He wants you," she repeated almost sullenly.
"No, I couldn't. I-"
Behind the woman's blocking body, another plaintive plea came from Henry. "Mama?"
The dark eyes narrowed. "Yes, dear. Just a moment. Everything will be all right. Doesn't Mama always make everything all right?"
The sound he made was not a word.
Mrs. Scarp's voice was ever lower when she spoke to Nancy again. "You heard him. He wants you. God knows why! After all these years of only me and him, you have to come along."
"I'll go. It's dark, I can get away now." Nancy's mouth was dry with fear.
"No."
Nancy tried to move her leaden feet and back away. Mrs. Scarp's face twisted horribly. "He's all I have. I love him. I want him to be happy, even if it tears away part of my soul. A slut like you wouldn't understand that. No, you want to be Miss Almighty and condemn me and him for our pleasure. You come in here near naked and force my boy to see your big young tits and round ass just waiting to be screwed by any man on the street. You can have your pick of cocks in the whole goddamn city, but you gotta come here and steal what's mine." Her glance moved down the loose shirt and bare legs. "You had plenty before you came here, that's sure. No decent woman walks the street in an outfit like that."
Nancy could barely talk. "I was kidnapped, they took my things-"
The woman snorted. "I know your kind. But Henry doesn't. He's never been nowhere. There used to be tenants in the building who'd come and talk to him but mostly only to poke fun at him. They didn't understand. None of them. Miss Cora upstairs, maybe. But she don't put her body on show for him like you. He never got no ideas about her like a man gets about a woman. like he has now about you."
Nancy ran her tongue over her dry lips. She couldn't answer the wrongful accusations because only too well she could see how her appearance and actions led the woman to her beliefs.
"But now he's got 'em and you're going to make him happy. He has little enough pleasure in life. Why shouldn't he have you if he wants you." It wasn't a question, but Nancy shook her head again and stepped back.
The next words were a menacing threat. "Or maybe you want me to go upstairs and tell Miss Cora and her friends you're here."
Panic welled in Nancy. For the moment she had forgotten the double threat of the people she had already escaped. Then a glimmer of hope broke through the darkness. If Mrs. Scarp went upstairs, she could make a run for it. The cover of darkness outside would shield her long enough to at least get off this block and lost in the maze of dark streets. She could hide.
As though reading her thoughts, Mrs. Scarp laughed softly. "No, all I have to do is scream, and they'll come running down here before you could get the door open. You'd never get away from them again."
"You wouldn't."
"I will if you don't make my Henry happy by giving him what he wants. I promised him."
"I "
"Mama?"
"Just a minute darling."
"Later I'll help you get away. Do it for him, make him happy. Is that so much to ask?"
"Will you really help me get away?"
The dark eyes glittered. "Later. First you go to Henry."
Nancy swayed with doubt and shame. She was bargaining her body for her freedom. Or was she? Was it really such a horrible thought to consider going to Henry, doing what he and his mother suggested? The memory of the aching longing in her belly stirred. She had been hot and ready then. Why was it so different now? Or was it different from the forced attentions of Joe and Tony upstairs when she'd lay helpless under them? Wasn't she just as helpless now? Her mind whirled.
Mrs. Scarp watched her through narrow slits of eyes. The two minds rocked in silent combat, the victor already known. Nancy knew there was really no choice to make. She glanced at Henry, who still lay on his couch naked and alone. His eyes were intent on the two women across the room. His face was a plea.
"Mama?"
"Yes, darling." To Nancy, "Well?"
Nancy ran her tongue over her lips again. Mutely, she nodded. Mrs. Scarp stepped out of the doorway and Nancy walked toward the couch.
CHAPTER TWELVE
HENRY'S EYES WELCOMED her as she neared his bed. She could feel them touch the high mounds of her breasts that jiggled under the shirt. His gaze was adoring and knowing. Instinct gave him all the thoughts he needed to want a woman, even though he had never been anywhere as his mother claimed. He was like a puppy, waiting to be loved back for the obvious affection he showed.
Suddenly, Nancy felt a rush of warmth flood her. The ugliness of the situation faded and she thought again of how Henry had saved her from her pursuers. Without him, where would she be now?
She stopped at the side of the couch and looked down at him. His eyes smiled, and she sank to her knees beside him.
"I like you," Henry said softly, letting the words slide from his tongue gutturally.
"Thank you, Henry." Nancy spoke just as softly back to him.
Behind her, Mrs. Scarp's voice said, "He's gone all soft 'cause he's waited so long. You'll have to start all over again."
Nancy looked at the man's loins. His cock had shriveled to a thin sausage that lay limply in the patch of pubic hair. She thought of the thick, heavy organs that had sprung forth from Joe and Tony's loins, and of the dark, dormant one she had seen only momentarily when Gunner removed his jeans. She recalled how the limp, loose rope had grown so quickly to a hot, huge prick before her eyes. She wasn't sure how to go about her new task.
"He-likes to be washed first," Mrs. Scarp said flatly.
The voice was like a distant hypnotist issuing commands. Nancy bent to the basin and wrung out the cloth in the still-warm water. Henry grunted, and she turned to begin cleansing his cock and balls. The wet secretions that had come from his mother's cunt were already dried and crusty on the soft skin. She lifted the cock tenderly and wiped the cloth over it. Carefully, she washed away all traces of the white crust, pulling back the foreskin and running the rag along the ridge of thick flesh that sprang into view. She traced the course of the thin vein that showed only in the hidden red warmth she'd uncovered by pulling the layers of skin back. His flesh was incredibly smooth and cool, yet she knew it would eventually come alive. She had seen this sex organ vibrant and filled. She had to get it that way again.
She closed her palm around the thin shaft while she used her other hand to finish cleaning the patch of hair above it. Gently, she squeezed the sleeping flesh to begin stirring it. She slipped the rag between his legs and washed the loose, rippled sac that hung beneath his penis. She could feel the hard cores under the drooping skin.
Henry grunted and she glanced up to see his twisted smile. She dropped the washcloth into the basin and smiled at him. Then, with one hand on his cockshaft and the other on his balls, she began to play with him. Her easy careful strokes gradually gained in tempo and she felt a faint stir of life in the organs. She also felt more than a faint stir of need in her own belly. She knew again that the need would grow and consume her as it had before. And she knew that this time she would not reject the need to fuck.
"Take that shirt off so he can look at you," Mrs. Scarp said in a strained voice. "He ain't never seen big boobs like yours."
Nancy obeyed, letting go of the prizes her hands held reluctantly while she quickly yanked the shirt up and over her arms. Henry's gaze went immediately to her bare breasts. New fires were ignited behind the dark pools of his eyes. His mouth worked soundlessly. Nancy leaned closer and let the heavy fullness of one breast touch his arm. He whimpered. She rubbed her body against him, while her hand once more found his crotch and recaptured his cock. She stroked back and forth on the prick slowly and lifted the heavy tit close to his mouth. He made small sucking motions like a baby, and she placed the nipple in his lips. They closed slowly over it. With effort, he forced his tongue into the sunken pool of corrugated dark skin. She felt a tug of excitement in the breast. His lips pursed over the tiny bud and he began to suck as hard as his hampered muscles would let him. Nancy's hand moved faster on the cock she held. It had lost some of its total limpness although it was not yet hard.
Henry made small animal sounds as he nuzzled the tit. His eyes, wide and staring, were filled with pleasure. Nancy smiled. Somewhere behind her, an anguished moan came from Mrs. Scarp, but it barely penetrated Nancy's consciousness.
With her breast secure in his mouth, Nancy moved her hand up to Henry's face. Gently, she stroked at the wrinkled pain lines of his forehead and cheeks. She brushed his thin, straggly hair back from his face and ears, noticing for the first time that his mother had also shaved him. His chin was clear of stubble. Without it, he looked younger and less haggard. Except for the deep lines.
Her fingers played at his ear. His eyes met hers. They spoke all the words his thick tongue couldn't utter, all the pent-up passion his crippled body had borne for so long. They reflected his bodily manhood and the simplicity of his need and trust.
"You've been very good to me, Henry," Nancy said softly. "You helped me when I needed help. Now, I'll repay you. I'm going to help you relax and enjoy yourself." Her closed fist around his cock beat a steady rhythm, coming down to graze against the soft sac and through the wiry pubic hair with each stroke. Some new instinct told her the best ways to arouse him, and she made small circular motions with the heel of her hand at the base of the cock between pumps. The loose muscles began to tighten very slowly. His mouth still nursed at her breast.
Nancy's cunt had grown wet with her own secretions again, and the seeping warmth excited her as much as the feel of the man's flesh. She was being consumed by the need growing in her, the want, and the knowledge that she would find complete satisfaction again. This was different than the other times. Before, she had been a passive receiver of joy. Now she was the instigator. She could do whatever she wanted. It was as if she were now the captor and Henry the captive. She flicked her tongue over her lips and smiled at him.
Very slowly, she pulled her tit from his mouth. He tried to cling to it but his strength was not equal to hers. She increased the tattoo on his cock and bent her face quickly to cover his open mouth with a kiss. Her lips were open too, and she speared her tongue into the dark cavity of his mouth. She ran it over his surprised and lolling oral organ. His response was electric and quivering. He had never experienced such unbridled passion, never been kissed by a woman other than his mother. If she had used these intimate techniques, he was now learning new hidden meanings of love. Nancy guessed that Mrs. Scarp had used his body mainly for her own need, putting his in second place, more out of duty. Now his response was the new man shocked from his dull lethargy. The warped muscles of his pelvic area began to throb under her hand. His cockstem began to grow to maturity again. The slow action was unlike the quick swell of Tony's prick when she had played with it. Henry could not overcome the years of weakened muscles that his infirmity had caused. But his cock was growing. And Nancy knew that when it was ready, she would enjoy it thoroughly.
She lifted her face from his with a smile. Dazed, he made no protest. He knew that she would please him in many new ways. Nancy trailed her hot hand down his chest as she moved her body so her face was over the lovely cock. She put her lips to it, tasting its softness and smoothness. She sucked the head of the column gently, flicking her tongue along the ridge and trying to find the tiny vein she'd seen there. She found it, and discovered it had grown and was now a pulsating snake along the length of the prick. She pushed downward and let the organ glide along her tongue and deep into her mouth. She wrapped her lips around it and savored its growing warmth. The silky skin was a loose shield for the flesh beneath it, but a shield which began to grow tighter on its contents with each push of her mouth. The cock was stiff enough now that she could feel its weight in her throat, feel it press against the roof of her mouth and the sides of her cheeks as she maneuvered it inside her hungry, hot tunnel of warmth. It excited her, filled her belly with tight darts of fire that spread quickly to her cunt which spurted out warm, waiting fluids. She felt the slow dribble between her thighs, and she pressed her bare body hard against the paralyzed hips of the man. He moaned softly and tried to say something but she couldn't concentrate on the words. She was too absorbed in the new pleasure she had discovered in bringing his struggling prick to an erection.
She forced her tongue into the tiny crevice at the smooth head of his cock. She pried at the tiny opening with her spearing tongue and tried to coax a drop of sweet fluid from it. But she found none. She would have to wait. But her aching cunt didn't want to wait. It was sending urgent messages through her body, demanding some kind of satisfaction.
Without conscious plan, she let go of his cock again and got to her feet. The urgent need inside her made her move close to his head again. His excited eyes followed her movements. She smiled, and lifted one leg, resting her foot for a moment on the edge of the couch. His eyes widened as he looked up at the glistening, wet cunt she exposed to him. He was breathing hoarsely through his open mouth and his thin chest heaved. She moved her foot, swinging it carefully past his head to the opposite side of the bed. Then she came down softly so her crotch descended over his face. She pressed her hand to the wall to steady herself as she brought the delicious wetness right to his mouth.
Several sounds rose and mingled in the quiet room. Henry gurgled as his wet lips found the dripping delight of the first cunt he'd ever eaten. Nancy moaned softly as his lips worked over the erotic flesh and mashed against her clitoris. Mrs. Scarp whimpered as she watched her son enjoy something she had never thought of giving him.
Nancy pressed her body lightly to Henry's mouth. She moved her hips so his mouth could touch every portion of her eager pussy. It was difficult for Henry to force his tongue upward into the fiery hole, but he made up for the lack by constantly working his lips and teeth into the pulpy dampness. He felt the hot fluids fill his tongue and he drank them eagerly. Nancy quivered as his breath scorched her sensitive flesh and drove her wild. She wanted to sit on his face, force his whole mouth into her, have him devour her. She was so hot she could barely restrain herself, yet she had to keep in mind the helplessness of the man under her.
"Ohhh, that feels so good!" She whispered the words to his hidden ears. She felt different than she had ever felt before. Her mind didn't try to sort the violent and confusing thoughts. Only vaguely was she aware that her role had changed. Now she was the one who made the demands, called the plays for the kind of sex she wanted.
"Oh!" The spasm of painful delight barely warned her of the erupting climax that was coming. She was still too new at fucking to recognize the imminent signs of orgasm. When the climax exploded in her belly as Henry's tongue made its jab upward, she sobbed and fell forward almost smothering him in her cunt juice. She pressed her hands into the pillow at the sides of his head and skimmed her hairy crotch back and forth along his willing mouth.
She couldn't find words to tell him what she felt. Shockwaves of tingling delight raced through her belly and thighs as she rode the wave of pleasure to its end.
Then she pulled away and once more moved down Henry's body. His eyes had completely lost their dullness now. He was very excited and hungry for her. She had completely eradicated the boy and found the man inside the shell. His cock had not lost its hardness this time. She slid her cunt along his sparsely-haired chest, down his smooth belly, to the thick shaft of his rigid, throbbing cock. She positioned herself over him, smiling and watching him. His eyes smiled back in anticipation. She brought her hand between her legs and grabbed the thick, waiting organ. She lifted it and pointed it toward her cunt. Their eyes locked and spoke their need. She brushed the tip of the red cockhead along her wet pubic hair. She teased it with the warm folds of flesh that guarded the entrance to her twat. She pushed it in a short way, pulled it out again. He gasped. She repeated the action, and the cock began to throb in her fist. An instinct told them both that their final fucking would be something special, and the buildup to it became a thrilling game of waiting.
Despite her pounding need, she continued to play and tease, exciting him beyond her wildest expectations. He watched her in fascination and delight. Her beautiful body over him was almost as thrilling as the wonderful things she was doing to him with her hand and cunt. The huge white domes of flesh jutted out like balloons from her chest. He stared at the dark-red circles of the nipples, amazed at how the tiny buds had swollen to ripe cores. They seemed to press out with need, and he wished he could somehow hold or suck them while she did this wonderful thing to him. He tried to lift his hand, but as always, his muscles betrayed him and the arm fell limply back to the bed. He had to content himself with letting her fuck him. But it was contentment he had never known before. This was so very different from the ritual act of incest he and his mother had sc often.
Even his limited mind knew that.
Nancy watched his gaze caress her naked tits and belly. Poor thing, his naked desire was so obvious. He needed her so badly. She pried at her cuntmouth with the now slick head of his prick. She used both hands to hold her cunt open while she once more eased his masculine hardness into that waiting hole. Only this time she did not stop short of completion. She came down all the way on the jabbing spear. For an instant, she pressed her fingers between her pulpy cunt lips and squeezed them about his cock. He tried to say something, and she smiled, knowing his pleasure.
"Uuuhhh."
"Mmmmmm, yes Henry, yes. It's so warm and nice. You're in now, all the way. Can you feel how far up you're reaching?"
"Uugghhh, yesss." He got the word out with effort. His usual difficult speech was even further hampered by the exploding breaths of excitement that burst from his throat. He could feel how far up he was. He could feel the enveloping warmth of her hot cunt all along the length of his needy cock. He could feel the hot pressure of his semen building up in his balls and the blood pounding in the rigid column she had raised to new heights. He could feel her. He wanted her. He knew she would make him come.
She took her hands away then and braced her weight on her legs as she squatted on him. Their bodies were fused, and she began to rock gently on the hard prick. She could feel it touch each portion of her snatch, probe between thick walls of hot, wet cuntflesh. She could feel new excitement boil inside her. She cupped her heavy tits with her palms and lifted their weight, pushing them up and out to let him enjoy their beauty. Even the touch of her own hands on her hot flesh added to her excitement. She covered the nipples and let them peak into her palms, then spread her fingers enough so they could peek out at him. The game made him gulp and make another gurgling noise deep in his throat. All the time she rocked gently on the cock she had brought to life.
Her own excitement was reaching fever pitch, and she let go of the bulging tits. She licked her lips and arched her back to force his prick forward in her cunt. It felt very good. She remembered the deep hidden spot that the men who had fucked her had triggered and now she tried to guide his throbbing penis to it. She braced her hands beside his thin legs and bent far back. Her long hair brushed on his paralyzed legs. Still she had not found the spot. She humped her cunt on the rock-hard cock in a new quest. She was leaning almost down to his legs, forcing his cock to shaft into her cunt at a hard angle. Her tits strained upward like mountains she could barely see over.
Then it was on target. She felt the smooth wet tip of his throbbing cock touch the hidden detonator. New trails of fire swept through her. He was in the tiny opening, and she almost went crazy with the sudden joy. She wiggled her ass against his crotch and thighs to excite them both. When she could no longer stand it, she quickly came up and bent forward over his torso. The pace of her pounding cunt on the heavy cock increased, and she began to force him into her with stabbing thrusts.
"I know you're ready!" Her voice was a thick whisper of her own need. "Oh, Henry, I'm so hot! So hot! Mmmmmm, feel it up there, feel it. You're so big and heavy. Your lovely prick is going to fill me with hot juice. Yes, you're going to spurt it all up there and I'm going to drown you with my cunt juice!" The words came from her soul and she wasn't even aware of forming them. She knew only that she wanted to come, she wanted this man more than she had ever wanted anything in her whole life. This was the moment for which she'd waited all these years. This was going to surpass even the rapid-fire eruptions that had been performed on her by three boys in the apartment upstairs.
At some secret signal of their bodies, cunt and cock, reached the peak of excitement and found their orgasms. All of the hot pressure inside Nancy's belly broke loose in a flash flood. Her cunt juice boiled over and poured out. It bathed the hot prick and met the bubbling fountain of its jism. The two liquids mixed and raised the boiling point to one that converted their prick and pussy to a holocaust that consumed both of them. Flames spread through their bodies, sweat filmed them, their breaths tore from their lungs in pagan lust. They came, together, prolonged and violently. Nancy's body maintained its wild pace on the cock it held. She had lost conscious thought of everything but the fantastic pleasure that filled her.
"Uuuuhhh!" The strangled cry from Henry's throat was more eloquent than any words he could have spoken. It expressed his total fulfillment. His whole being went into that moment of ecstasy.
The room finally grew silent again and Nancy slowed to a caressing rocking motion. The prick inside her, still warm and wet, began to diminish in size. She had drained him of everything he had. It had taken a long time, but it had been worth it. It had been as wonderful and complete for her as she had somehow known it would be. She smiled at Henry. His eyes were glazed, but not with dullness now but the sheer rapture of what he'd experienced.
Nancy felt a sudden rush of warmth and gratitude for him. Carefully, she eased her body down until she lay flat on top of him. She pressed her face to his and held his head close. She moved her legs slowly and carefully so the now limp cock remained inside her cunt, and she tightened her cuntal muscles to hold it there. For a few moments, she was silent. She could hear his slightly ragged breathing close to her ear. She knew he was exhausted with pleasure and could not speak. She said it for both of them.
"Thank you, Henry. It was wonderful." She kissed his cheek softly and finally got up.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
SHE HAD COMPLETELY forgotten about Mrs. Scarp until the flurry of motion across the room caught her attention. The woman was still standing in the doorway where she'd last seen her. Now she was leaning against the wall, and she looked haggard and old. For a moment the shadows hid her face, but Nancy glimpsed the stark hatred that still filled it. Then the naked woman moved into the room.
"You can use the bathroom. I'll take care of Henry now." Her voice was a dry wind blowing across the sand.
Nancy couldn't meet the piercing eyes. She picked up the T-shirt and made her way to the dingy bathroom. In the faint light from the front room, she cleaned herself at the toilet and sink. She moved very slowly, not wanting to go back and face Mrs. Scarp. The woman's sullen acceptance of what had happened was an accusation that Nancy didn't want to think about. What had started out as a bargain had become an adventure in sheer delight for her, and it somehow hurt her that she still had to extract the promised payment for fucking with Henry.
From the other room, she could hear the low crooning voice of Mrs. Scarp as she cleaned up her son. By the time Nancy was done, the woman was just finished washing Henry's cock again and was patting him dry with a towel. She looked up quickly when she heard the soft sound of Nancy's steps behind them. She spread the towel over Henry's body to hide his cock and balls, as though she feared some new arousal at his sight of the girl. Henry lay with his eyes closed, apparently exhausted by the exertion of his activity.
Mrs. Scarp got to her feet and carried the basin and cloth to the bathroom. She returned without them, slipping her scrawny arms into the sleeves of a shapeless wrapper and pulling the dress closed over her nudity. Nancy had donned the shirt which was glamorous in comparison to the wrapper the other woman wore.
Mrs. Scarp had retreated behind her mask again, and the dark eyes were flat and cold. Without speaking to Nancy, she went again to her son. Picking up a light cotton blanket from a chair, she covered his thin, still body and bent to kiss him lightly. His eyelids fluttered but did not open. His lips moved slowly.
"Mama."
"Yes, darling."
"Mama ... it was so good. I like her, Make her stay. I want her more..." His breathing grew shallower with the words and by the end he was asleep, breathing in the regular soft pattern of relaxed reflex.
Mrs. Scarp stayed leaning over him for countless minutes before she finally straightened and turned back to Nancy. "He'll sleep all night now," she said aimlessly.
"Mrs. Scarp?" Nancy's whisper matched the woman's soft tone.
The woman looked at her.
"I can't stay, and you promised to help me get away." Nancy tried to penetrated the masked expression.
The woman said nothing. She merely stared at Nancy.
"You promised. Besides it would only cause trouble. That woman upstairs ... she said she'd come back!" An edge of panic was forcing its way into Nancy's mind again. Mrs. Scarp had to help her!
Dully, the woman said, "He wants you to stay."
"I can't! Oh, please, you must see that!" Mrs. Scarp nodded. "Yeah. I know."
"Then you will help me?"
She nodded again. Relief flooded through Nancy. "Oh, thank you!" Tears filled her eyes and spilled over her lids. The tensions of the past day welted anew in her and wanted desperately to have an end to the nightmare in which she was moving.
"You can look in the other room and see if you can find anything to wear." Mrs. Scarp's gaze traveled over the length of Nancy's body. "You're bigger than me," she said flatly. "I'll check outside and see if any of them are around."
Nancy bit her lip to hold back the sudden sob of joy that erupted. Mrs. Scarp pushed her straggly hair away from her face with a tired gesture and crossed to the chair. Under it she found her slippers and shoved her feet into them. She moved wearily toward the door to the hall. She stopped with her hand on the knob and motioned for Nancy to go into the back bedroom before she opened it.
Nancy moved quickly in her bare feet to the covering darkness of the other room. She closed the door behind her but stood listening at it. The door in the other room opened, then closed softly. Nancy pulled her door open a slit and peered out. Mrs. Scarp was gone.
She opened the door wide enough to let in a bit of light while she found the lamp. Then she closed it before she began her search for something to wear. The sight of the grimy window facing the brick wall beyond scared her, and she went quickly to draw the shade. She was shaking now with excitement. It was almost over. Hope began to grow. In a short time she would be gone from this horrible place and the memories it contained. She dared not think beyond the escape. Once she was home, in her own apartment, she could worry about the larger problem of notifying the police and letting them take over.
She went through the dresser with its meager store of clothing and finally found a chemise that she could get into. like the one Mrs. Scarp had worn earlier, it was full of holes and worn, but it covered her as well as the T-shirt. Her heavy breasts strained against the thin cloth but the rest of it was loose on her waist and hips. She moved to the hooks behind the door. Mrs. Scarp's wardrobe was very limited. The cotton dresses were faded and old, but they had been washed and ironed with some care. The first one Nancy tried on would not go over her shoulders. She rehung it in exasperation. None of the dresses would fit. Mrs. Scarp's comment was all too true-she was much bigger than the woman, at least in the bustline.
She found a dark-blue denim skirt that fit except for the length. The blouses met the same fate as the dresses, so she didn't try either of them on. Instead, she redonned Gunner's shirt and tucked it into the waistband of the blue skirt. Then she rolled the waist up a few times until the skirt was at her knees. Her search of the room revealed no shoes. Apparently one pair and the old slippers were all the woman had. No matter. As long as the rest of her was decently covered, Nancy didn't mind the bare feet.
She returned to the door and listened. There was no sound from the other room. She started to open the door, but then thought better of it and snapped off the lamp first. She stood very quietly with the door open only a crack and waited.
In the other room, she could see Henry sleeping under the light blanket that covered him. Once more she was overcome with pity and gratitude for the strange man. How pathetic his life was. Would he be upset when he discovered she was gone? Or would he quickly slip back into the stupor of dullness that protected him from the world? In his peculiar simpleness, he had shown her how much life could be. She could still feel the remnants of the complete sexual gratification she'd had with him. She would never forget it. And beyond that, she knew that she would never feel sorry for herself in her self-imposed loneliness. At least she could get out in the world and see and talk to people every day. If she made no friends, perhaps it was her fault. She had to learn to be more outgoing, make gestures of friendship that would bring her the friends she wanted. Poor Henry had no such hope or chance.
She didn't know how long she stood there. The minutes moved slowly in the silent tomb of the dark apartment. Only Henry's soft breathing occasionally broke the quiet. Once he turned his head on the pillow and a low sound came from his lips. Perhaps he was dreaming of the pleasure he too had found.
She shifted her weight and leaned against the wall. She was too excited to go back to the bed, and she dared not reenter the front room. So she waited.
Finally the tiny sound alerted her. She peered through the crack. The hall door opened and Mrs. Scarp shuffled back in. She was alone but her face was still a mask that told Nancy nothing. She pulled the door open and hurried out.
"Is it safe? Are they gone? Oh!" Nancy was so excited she could scarcely talk.
Mrs. Scarp motioned her to be quiet and shot a quick glance at her sleeping son. She moved away from the door and the bed. She sighed. "They're still up there. When I went out one of the men was on the stairs. I had to pretend I was going to the store. That's what took so long."
Nancy whimpered, unable to conceal her disappointment and fright.
Mrs. Scarp shrugged. "I walked all the way to the candy store. Eight blocks."
Nancy sagged and felt the hot sting of tears threaten again.
"Mister Colluzio let me use the phone. I called the police. They're sending a man over."
Nancy gasped. It would be all right. She started to laugh and cry at the same time. The police were coming! She would be safe! Suddenly, her face sobered with a new thought. If the men upstairs saw the police, there might be more trouble. But no, Mrs. Scarp would protect her because to do otherwise might hurt Henry. "Did you tell them about Cora and the men upstairs?"
Mrs. Scarp didn't look at her. "Yeah. We're supposed to wait here. They want to talk to you."
Of course. The robbery. It was strange how major an event kept fading from her mind as other problems crowded it out. They both jumped slightly at the soft rap on the door.
"That'll be the police," Mrs. Scarp said tonelessly.
Nancy took the precaution of darting into the back bedroom before the woman opened the door. Now that salvation was so close, she would take no chances that Joe or Tony might be the one on the other side of the door.
Through the crack she watched it open and Mrs. Scarp usher in a man in a dark-gray suit. The man glanced around the apartment and at Henry's sleeping figure. Mrs. Scarp came and pushed the bedroom door open.
"Come out, he wants to talk to you," she said.
Nancy was frozen to the spot. The sight of the suit instead of a uniform had shocked her with new dread. Mrs. Scarp reached for her arm and pulled her gently into the light. Wide-eyed, Nancy looked at the man. He smiled easily.
"I'm Detective Winters," he said softly.
Once again, Nancy breathed with relief. A detective. Of course. "Oh, thank heaven!" she said. "It's been awful! They kidnapped me. The bank. They robbed it. Oh, please, I want to go home!" The tears spilled over her lids and coursed down her cheeks.
"There, there. It's okay now." He took her arm gently, but his fingers were surprisingly strong on her flesh. It gave her a feeling of comfort. "How many of them did you say there were? We have to know so we can be sure how to plan our attack." His voice was deep and low, a pleasant voice that matched his pleasant good looks. He had none of the toughness she would have expected a cop to have.
"Two men and the woman. No," she corrected herself, "there were three of them originally. In the car, at the bank. When they switched to the truck, one left. At least I think it was then." She wiped at the streams of tears with the back of her hand. "Everything happened so fast before that I didn't really know what was going on. But I'm sure there were three of them. The others talked about him, too. Upstairs."
"Can you identify all of them?" He was watching her face with casual interest.
"I don't know about the third one. I'm not sure I even saw him clearly. I just don't remember, it was too fast. I was so scared."
The detective nodded. "I understand. We'll worry about that later." He propelled her toward the door. "Right now we're going to get you out of here and bring some men in to protect Mrs. Scarp and her son. Then we'll close in on them. Come along." He nodded at the older woman who hadn't moved from her spot near the bedroom door. Now she scurried forward to stand near the head of the sleeping Henry, as though to hide Nancy's departure in case he should wake. Her eyes glittered brightly in the soft light from the tiny lamp.
Nancy smiled at her. "Thank you Mrs. Scarp. Thank you!"
The woman didn't answer. The beady eyes flitted from Nancy to the detective and then back. She was waiting for them to leave. She wanted only to be alone and undisturbed again. Alone with her boy, her son, her lover, her possession. She was doing this not because she wanted to help Nancy but because she wanted to get rid of her. Her eyes told the story.
Nancy moved with the man's hand still gripping her arm. He opened the door and they stepped out into the dark hall. There was no bulb burning here, and only the weak rectangle of light from the door broke the blackness. It was a wonder the detective had managed to find the door at all, Nancy thought.
A shadow on the edge of the rectangle moved. Nancy saw the shoes, then the feet. Her heart leaped into her throat, but the policeman at her side seemed to know the other person was there. He moved forward, Nancy with him.
The figure stepped into the small patch of light.
Nancy was only aware that like Detective Winters, the newcomer was not in uniform. She barely glanced at him. Yet the image impressed itself on her mind. With a sudden start, she whirled to look at him again. Light slacks, white sports shirt, a small triangle of very dark curly hair in the V where the shirt was unbuttoned at the collar. And above it, the unmistakable ugly grinning face of Joe.
For a moment, Nancy's brain refused to believe what her eyes saw. It was a mistake, an illusion, part of a nightmare.
Joe laughed softly, and the ugly sound shocked her to reality. "Hello, baby, nice to see you again," Joe said nastily.
Nancy turned to the detective. He made no move toward the other man. Then she realized the horrible truth. He wasn't a detective at all. She opened her mouth to scream, but he was too quick for her. His hand clamped over her mouth and forced her head back with so much pressure on her windpipe she could hardly breathe. She caught the heavy sweet odor of chloroform and Joe advanced toward her. His hand pressed against her nose, and the sweet nauseous smell filled her lungs and clogged her mind. She felt her body slump and be caught by strong arms.
"Give her another shot of it!"
The cloth and the smell covered her nose and mouth. She felt very heavy. She couldn't keep her eyes open.
"Help me with her."
"Sure Max."
Her feet dragged limply as the two men clutched her under the arms and began pulling her up the stairs. Her heavy eyelids fluttered, and she forced them open one last time. In that brief glimpse, she saw Mrs. Scarp standing in the doorway. The hatred in her eyes had been replaced with mocking laughter.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
NANCY DRIFTED AND swirled in the black oblivion. When tiny pains of light tried to penetrate her consciousness, she avoided them and sought instead the comforting darkness. She never wanted to come out of it. Here there was peace, escape. In the darkness she did not have to think. She did not have to worry. She embraced it lovingly.
Yet the gray fingers of light insisted on touching her mind. They brought roaring pain in her ears and head. She squeezed her eyes shut tight and tried to go back. Back. Back. Back where? It was so confusing. She didn't know which direction to take. There had been someone ... somewhere ... but she couldn't remember. She moved on the cloud that had thinned to gray now but was still comforting. Part of her mind drew pictures for her to see. Soft, smooth, long, ruby red. A tiny drop of glistening moisture tantalizing her dry tongue. What was it? Vague memory of the marvelous taste of it, the wonderful feel of it. It faded and was gone.
A new picture formed. A wheelchair with a doll sitting in it. A limp, lifeless doll. A boy doll from whose loins sprouted an enormous prick. A long shaft of pulsating flesh. A ruby-red cock that stood high in the air and winked at her. It was ten times larger than the doll and it looked so rigid and real. Even as she watched the picture form, it changed. The cock grew, pushed higher. Its thick-lipped head pushed out of the cocoon of foreskin. She could see the dark line of the blood vessel that tracked its length. The vein throbbed with a steady beat that pounded in her ears. The crevice at the top of the head opened wider ... and wider. The inside of the hole was dark and warm. She tried to crawl into it.
Blackness again, covering her completely, holding her and rocking her gently. Thin wisps of smoke. Gray. Light. Noise. Pain.
Nancy became aware that she was conscious again. She could no longer retreat into the haven of nepenthe. She lay very still and tried to absorb the pain that roared in her head. The sickly sweet odor of the chloroform still clung inside her lungs.
After a long time, she opened her eyes very slowly. Without moving she looked around. She was numb and felt heavy and full, but even so she knew she was back upstairs in Cora's apartment. It was the same bedroom where she'd wakened this morning. She closed her eyes in defeat. The nightmare was beginning all over again. Somehow, it didn't seem to matter. She didn't care any more. The hopelessness of the whole thing had made her succumb to its weight. There was no way out. No escape. Not even the blessed escape of the drugged sleep.
The ringing in her ears diminished and the pain in her head ebbed. Her mind cleared.
She had been duped. Mrs. Scarp never had intended to call the police. She'd come up here and handed Nancy back to the crooks. Why? Nancy didn't have to think very hard about the answer to that question. It was the woman's revenge. The idea of Henry wanting Nancy instead of his mother had been too much for the woman to bear. She had given in to please him, because she could not bear to hurt him. But then Henry wanted Nancy to stay. That was what had done it. One-time infidelity by her incestuous lover could be forgiven, but Mrs. Scarp had no intention of losing him. She did the only thing she knew to protect him and herself. She eliminated any chance that Nancy might somehow come back into their lives. She'd gotten rid of her permanently. She may have even made some monetary gain besides. Cora would make sure the old woman was taken care of. Otherwise, there would have been no reason for the charade of a detective. Nancy knew now that Mrs. Scarp had made them promise to get Nancy out of the downstairs apartment first. Then they could do whatever they wanted with her, it would make no difference to the old lady. She would be safe in the shell again with Henry.
She opened her eyes again and tried to move. Again without surprise, she discovered she was tied. Her arms were bound over her head, secured to the headboard. She looked down the length of her body and almost laughed when she saw she was nude again. Apparently returning her clothes was included in Mrs. Scarp's price. Her ankles were bound together with white cord, and her feet were cramped. She tried to move but only succeeded in arousing tingling pins and needles in her feet and legs.
The dull ache in her head began to ease some, and she longed for the oblivion of sleep again. She could not delude herself that she might escape again, and her actions had already shown the robbers that she should not be trusted. Even though she tried not to think of it, she knew that they would kill her. They had to. She had seen them and could identify them. Almost objectively, she wondered why they had waited this long. At first she had been a hostage, a shield to protect them from the pursuers who shot at them. But now, she was only trouble. They could have easily killed her when they dragged her back up the stairs from Mrs. Scarp's apartment. Why was she still here?
She closed her eyes and tried to blot the thoughts from her mind. They frightened her and the problem was one she could not solve anyhow. She didn't want to die. She thought about the variety of sexual experiences she had had the past day-or was it days? She had no idea what time it was. The room was light, so the night had passed, but she might have lay drugged for longer than that. But she had discovered the pleasures of sex, and she wanted to have more of them. She could admit it to herself now. But now it was too late. She was going to die.
Vaguely she became aware of sounds beyond the bedroom door and opened her eyes. Voices. She couldn't identify them. She waited and after a long time the door opened. The man she had thought was a detective came in. Max. She remembered now. Joe had used his name just as consciousness left her. Max. The man they had been waiting for.
The third man in the holdup.
She watched him approach the bed. He had changed from the conservative suit to slacks and a sports shirt, and now he stood at the foot of the bed looking down at her.
"You're awake."
She didn't answer. Her mouth was thick and sandy. The drug and her fear had dried it.
"You've been a hell of a lot of trouble to me, kid. I don't like people who give me trouble." Even though his voice was low there was no mistaking the threat. Nancy felt her heart thump against her ribs. Max's face was as calm as though he were talking about the weather. From the way the others had talked about him and waited for him, and from the way he acted now, she knew that he was the boss. And the knowledge frightened her.
His eyes barely scanned her nude form, yet she knew that he had carefully appraised her. After the things that had happened already, she felt no shame or discomfort because of her naked body before him. Rather, a faint desire stirred beneath the fear. She looked away from his gaze.
Without further ado, he turned and walked out of the bedroom leaving the door open behind him. She could see only a small portion of the room beyond, but several times she saw movements that helped her locate the others. Cora seemed to be the only one missing. The three men were waiting for her return.
Joe said, "Shouldn't she be here by now?" Max's voice held a low note of anger under the even tone. "If you clowns hadn't fucked things up we wouldn't need this shift in plans. I ought to have my head examined for trusting you."
"Don't be so damned holy," Tony said angrily. "What the hell, you probably would have done the same goddamn thing. That broad is stacked like the best of 'em, and me and Joe have been doing the leg work on this job for a week while you've been fucking up a storm with Cora. Why the hell shouldn't we take a piece of ass when it's just laying there so nice and inviting?"
Max laughed. "Yeah, I guess you're right on that, but I don't see why the hell you couldn't have left her tied up or at least kept your goddamn eye on her. You should have known better."
"Blame it on Cora. She's the one who wanted the chick to get us some food 'cause she was fagged out." Tony's tone had lost some of its belligerence.
"What the hell is keeping her?" Joe asked again.
"She'll be here. It takes time to arrange things and we can't take any chance of mistakes again. You both know what you have to do?"
The two men grunted. Tony said, "I drive again."
"Right. Take the Parkway and then the Triboro Bridge. And take it slow and easy. We don't want any cops stopping us or offering police escorts. It's a long way out the Island and we have to get to the Bay without attracting any attention."
Still impatient, Joe said, "I don't see why we can't just leave her here or dump her in the river."
Max sounded annoyed. "That's why you're not in charge. I told you, the longer we can keep the cops away from this place and any connection with
Cora or the rest of us, the better. By the time they find the floater, if they ever do, we'll be in South America. This goddamn building will be a pile of rubble and no one will ever know we were here or anywhere near here. That's the way I want it, and that's the way it's going to be."
Joe didn't question him again and the group fell silent. Nancy thought she could make out the sounds of drinks being mixed, but she wasn't sure. Through the rectangle of the open door, she could see the corner of the sofa and Max's shoulder. Once, Tony crossed her line of vision, but otherwise she saw nothing.
But she had heard them all too clearly. Floater. She'd heard the word, or read it. It was a dead body that had come to the surface after drowning. The floater. Her. They were going to drown her in Long Island Sound. That was why they had kept her alive. They wanted her death to look accidental if it were ever discovered. Or maybe they didn't even care about that. Maybe they just didn't want a dead body on their hands to cart around.
A shiver ran through her. Faced with the imminent reality of death, she was frightened. She wondered how they planned to transport her to the boat or whatever they had waiting. They couldn't very well carry her bound and gagged like a sack of flour. The voices in the other room caught her attention again.
Tony was asking, "I hope Cora's right about being able to trust that old woman downstairs. You don't think she'll change her mind and talk?"
"No way. She's too damn scared for that idiot son of hers. Besides, Cora told her she could come up here and take anything she wants. She's too greedy to pass up a chance like that. If she calls the cops, she can't use or sell off any of the stuff here. You've seen that hole they live in." Max laughed. "If she could cart that vegetable up here, she'd probably move in!"
Nancy felt a stab of pain and anger at the way the man talked about Henry. Henry had been the only sincere one, the only one who wanted to help her in his own limited way. She sobbed quietly now as she thought of the bright awareness in his eyes last night as she had found mutual ecstasy for the two of them. Henry was the only one who had seen her as a human being rather than something to be used. His desire for her had been genuine. If she had to die, she was strangely glad that he would benefit indirectly from it.
Tony said, "Why do you suppose the old lady waited so long to tell us the kid was down there? Christ, if she'd have leveled with Cora right off we'd have saved a lot of trouble."
"She's not too bright," Max said. "She must have had some idea she was helping her son. I don't know. It doesn't make any difference now. Those kids in that empty apartment worry me more. You sure they didn't see the chick?"
Tony answered quickly. "Positive. I could smell the pot as soon as the nigger opened the door. They were all turning on and they weren't looking for anything but their own kicks. Police is a dirty word to them. They're long gone to some other hideaway where no one will bother them."
"Yeah, I guess you're right. Still, I'll be glad when we clear out of here."
They fell silent again and the minutes crept by in slow motion. Even Nancy jumped when the sound of a door opening startled her. From the quick flurry of action in the other room, she knew Cora was back.
Max got up from the sofa and moved toward the door. "Everything okay, baby?"
Cora sounded tired. "Yeah. It's all set. Tony can pick up the ambulance in half an hour. I had to put down a deposit of three hundred but we can leave it at their office in Greenport. One of their drivers will bring it back."
"They give you any static, baby?"
"Not much. Money talks. It's not standard procedure to let someone else drive their vehicles, but I told them my sister was highly excitable and her doctor thought it would be better if she didn't see any unfamiliar faces that might upset her. They bought it."
Ambulance! Nancy smothered a whimper.
"And the rest of the stuff?" Max asked.
Nancy heard the rustle of paper. "All in here."
"No sweat?"
Cora laughed. "You kidding? In this neighborhood there are more pushers than users."
Drugs! Somehow, the last piece of the puzzle fit in place so easily that Nancy wasn't surprised. They planned to drug her and move her in an ambulance. She would never know what happened after that. She might as well be dead. All too soon, she would be.
"Should we get going?" Tony asked.
"Finish your drink. You have plenty of time."
"We have to pick up the uniforms."
"Plenty of time. Stay cool." Max sounded very sure of himself. Ice clinked and liquid poured. "Here baby, you need this."
"Thanks. I sure do. It's still so goddamn hot out you'd think it was July." Cora sighed.
"Weather's supposed to break tomorrow radio says," Joe offered.
"I hope so."
Nancy listened absently to the casual chatter. It was like being at a movie, watching and hearing people on a screen. She was already outside the realm of reality, no longer a living person who had feelings or emotions to count. She was numb and helpless.
The foursome drank their drinks and spoke their words in a corner of Nancy's consciousness. Doomed, she no longer even thought of escape. Instead, her mind touched the pleasant memory of the new joy her body had learned and now would never know again. It somehow seemed the worst thing of all to waste such untasted pleasure. But she was glad she had at least known it briefly.
A flurry of voices again and movement. Last-minute instructions. Joe and Tony were leaving. The door closed. A chain clanked in place. The apartment was quiet, even though Nancy knew that Cora and Max were still in the other room. Small sounds. A sigh.
"Christ, baby, you're wonderful. When we get to South America, you and I are going to do a hell of a lot of living and loving."
"Mmmmmm." The sound was smothered out of existence. When Cora spoke, her voice was husky. "Take me into the bedroom and fuck me. I need you so bad I can taste it!"
"It'll have to be a quickie."
"Mmmmmm." Another silence while they kissed long and hard. "Your prick is dynamite no matter how little time we have. After staying up all night searching for that bitch, we deserve a little fun."
Another meaningful silence. Nancy listened numbly, still beyond the dread of reality. Then came the rustle of paper again, and Max appeared in the bedroom doorway with a package in his hand. He didn't even bother to look at her this time. He stood by the dresser and unwrapped the box. Cora came to the door and looked at Nancy. She might have been part of the furniture for all the interest the woman showed.
Max glanced at Cora. "Help me."
For a moment, their bodies cut off Nancy's view of what they were doing. When they turned, Cora was holding a small bottle of clear liquid. Max walked toward the bed. In his hand was a syringe, the glistening needle capped by a tiny drop of the liquid he had extracted from the bottle.
"You want her arm untied?" Cora asked.
"No, I can give it to her in the leg. Let her stay like that until we're ready to move her. Hold her feet a second so she doesn't kick."
Cora grabbed Nancy's ankles and dug her fingers into them even tighter than the cord. She pressed down so Nancy couldn't squirm. Max examined the syringe against the light to let out the air, then he bent and selected a spot on her fleshy thigh. Nancy's eyes were wide and her lip caught between her teeth. The needle jabbed into her leg like a bee sting and she felt the hot pressure of the drug enter her muscle. Max was standing up before she realized it was over. For a moment, she was surprised that she felt nothing. Then, as Cora began to move away from the bed and Max laid the syringe on the paper on the dresser, Nancy felt the first lifting, drifting effect of the narcotic. A tiny buzz rang in her head. A pleasant fog relieved the discomfort of her bonds and her cramped body.
Cora and Max walked out. Through the growing haze, Nancy heard them enter Cora's bedroom next door. The thin walls let their voices carry to her. She closed her eyes and drifted. The voices conjured a vision of the couple beyond the wall. The vision became a film for Nancy to watch as she let herself be carried into the gray semi-consciousness that relieved pain and worry.
Max's hands were already on the warm full readiness of Cora's tits as she unbuttoned her blouse and slipped it from her arms. His fingers, with their dark curly hairs etched along the backs, snaked under the thin film of the bra and held the twin treasure peaks as Cora unfastened the catch between her shoulder blades and released the heavy domes of flesh from their tight, warm prison.
"I like you better without a bra, baby."
"Mmmmmm, I never would have put it on if you hadn't insisted. Remember? You said I had to look like a worried big sister."
Max laughed softly. "If you'd gone over there braless, those men would have insisted on accompanying you wherever you wanted to go. Your tits are so damned lovely no one could resist them. With that blouse, they'd have known too well what they were missing."
She laughed, snuggling into his palms so he could cup her better. "Mmmmmm. I'm getting all wet and tingly."
"Take off the skirt. Mmmmmm, that's better, at least there's no panties to worry about. God, you have a beautiful body. You're one hell of a woman, baby." He ran his palms down the curves of her waist and hips and pulled her to him with his hands around her buttocks. "You're good enough to eat."
Cora's words were husky. "Take off those damned clothes and make those words good, darling. Mmmmmm, hurry, I need you." She helped him with the zipper on the slacks and then pulled down the Jockey shorts that cupped his full, heavy equipment. His cock was already growing and rising from its nest of dark hair. "Let's get on the bed. Mmmmmm, let me suck it."
They curled together in the sixty-nine position and eager tongues and lips found wet, waiting organs. Cora caught the sprouting stem of his prick and let it sink deep into her hot mouth. She pressed her tits to his belly and mashed their full weight to his warm flesh. Max spread her thighs and propped her legs apart with his head while he pushed his lips against the golden hairs of her hidden treasure. She encouraged him by lapping the tip of his swelling cock. He spread the hairy lips with his tongue and found the hard bud of her clitoris. He grabbed it between his lips and sucked it.
She whimpered with ecstatic delight and told him her joy by sucking hard on the now full prick. Her hands found his heavy balls, and she massaged them gently and eagerly. They always delighted her with the firm, heavy promise.
Max speared his tongue between the dripping folds of flesh and licked at the walls of her vagina. She shivered with delight, wanting to let him send her off this way, yet knowing she needed the hard rushing heat of his semen in her belly. She ached for him, needed him and had to have him. And she would. She could hold her climax and enjoy the thrill of his mouth without coming right away. She knew that before long he too would want to find the added satisfaction of entering her hot, hugging cunt tunnel with his shaft. She sucked harder at him.
In the gray cocoon, Nancy tasted the thick smooth column of hard flesh in her mouth. Her tongue flicked over the crevice and searched for the salty drop of love.
Max felt Cora's thighs quiver around his head. He lapped up the thick cream of her cunt juice and probed for more. When he thought of having and fucking Core forever, he almost lost his load into her mouth. He pulled back. "Come on, baby, let's go."
He swung himself around and smiled down at her as she spread her thighs willingly and presented herself for his inspection. He pulled her knees up and she wrapped her hands around them to pull them toward her. The dark triangle between them was delightful. The cunt lips were spread open to show off the thick red curtains of the doorway to her fuck hole. In the crevice below, he could see the faint image of her puckered ass-hole as she held her legs high, and for a moment he was tempted to shove his cock up that tight spot, but he decided that particular pleasure would have to wait. Tonight. On the boat. Forever. In South America. Now he aimed his dribbling prick toward the open door of invitation. He hunched on his knees and holding the cock in his fist, rubbed it into the wet hairs and along the gleaming slick folds of vibrant, erotic flesh.
Cora sucked air between her tortured lips. "Oooh, you tease!"
"Not for long, not with a lovely loose cunt like that waiting. Here it comes, baby. Right up where you want it. Right up there in heaven where I want it!" He pushed forward and the thick, throbbing barrel shot into her.
"God! That's good! Oooo, yes! Put it all the way up!" Cora tried to pull him into her body with her legs. Her hands went to his ass and she clung to him in desperate need.
"You've got the best goddamn fucking hold in the world!" Max felt the tight pull of her cunt muscles and he knew that the talented pussy would give him a treat and a treatment. He began to fuck in and out of her in rhythmic beats, grinning at the half-closed eyes that rolled with delight, and no watching her red tongue tip flick over her full lips with ecstatic pleasure.
In the gray cocoon, Nancy felt the pressure of cock between her legs and sliding between them. She felt the hot, pulsating fuck flesh enter her twat and search for its hidden trigger of swift passion. She felt the wetness bathe her in fire.
"You're hard, lover!"
"You made me that way, baby. You wanted a quickie! Here it comes! I'm full of fire for you!" He pounded hard into her loving cunt and she raised her hips to meet each thrust. He plummeted deep into her, and her hot, ready muscles sucked at his loaded shaft.
"Yes, yes! I'm ready! Oooo, I'm so hot and ready! Mmmmmm, give it to me, give it to me! Now!"
He exploded into the well of her cunt. His jism shot with a mighty force that seemed to pull from the depths of his guts. All the tension and excitement of the past twenty-four hours went into his orgasm and he came with a violence that surprised and pleased both of them. The hot, thick fluid seared the wet walls of her cunt and filled her. It brought forth another delightful spasm of her own secretions and they humped harder to savor the added delight. Cora's whole body shivered with the exploding passion.
In the gray cocoon, Nancy felt the blessed relief of the hot wetness quench the fire in her belly. Tingles of need were short-circuited to fulfillment. Her belly throbbed. Her mind blanked.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
NANCY DRIFTED AND lay suspended in the half-real, half-dream world of the drug. She was dimly aware of some things happening around her, hearing sounds and voices. But she was passive and unable to react to any of them. She had tried to fight the lethargy at first, but her tied and motionless form on the bed was soon overcome. Time had no meaning, no depth.
Her existence was pleasant in the cocoon. She no longer had to struggle or worry. There was no fear or pain. She had no memory or feeling. It was difficult to understand the fragments of life that penetrated her haze and she could not attempt to put the pieces together into any form.
"I'd like to lay her once more. Christ, what tits!"
"There's no time. Come on, help me move her onto the stretcher."
"She must wear a size forty! With the rest of her so tiny, it's a wonder she can walk!"
"She won't have to worry about that any more. Grab her shoulders. Okay, one, two, over."
She rose into the air on unfelt carriers and then settled onto a cool sheet. She opened her eyes for a second, and Joe was grinning down at her. He was wearing a white coat that made him look even darker and uglier than before. His hand touched the mound of her breast and she barely felt the tiny ripple as he squeezed the nipple and made it stand out hard.
"Christ, you'd fuck a corpse! Come on."
Something white fluttered over her and drifted down slowly to cover her. She closed her eyes as the cloth settled across her face and didn't try to open them when someone folded it back and tucked it under her chin. Firm hands settled it around her body, lifting her weight and shoving the edges under her. She was very comfortable and very tired.
"All set?"
"Yeah, she's ready. Good thing she's so little, I'd hate to carry anyone bigger down all those stairs on this damn stretcher!"
"Okay, okay, cool it. We're in the final lap now and it won't be long before we're on our way. Got everything, Cora?"
"Yes. What about the bag?"
"I'll take that."
"Okay, let's go. You first, Cora. Make sure that old lady and the idiot are out of sight."
She was lifted again and began to float. She opened her eyes and saw a white-coated figure at the foot of the stretcher. She had a brief glimpse of cool, lime-green linen as Cora moved past and preceded them from the apartment. Then darkness closed around her as they passed into the ancient hall and started down the stairs. She closed her eyes and felt her body tilt as her feet angled as Tony descended.
"Slow down, I can't move that fast bent over like this."
"Okay, okay, cool it."
She bounced and slipped but the sheet held her in place and the oblivion cushioned any jolts. It was a very long trip but she was in no hurry. Once the cloud stopped but it resumed at its slow pace in only a few seconds.
Doors opening. Loose, squeaky. A dim memory tried to rouse itself but vanished before she could grasp it. Then, blinding light stabbed at her eyelids and she squeezed them shut. She didn't want to emerge from her nest.
The light subdued and the stretcher scraped along a round surface. The air here was close and warm. Metal clicked against metal.
"It's locked. Sit here Cora."
"Okay, let's get going."
Doors slammed. A motor throbbed to life. They began to move. In the dim recesses of her mind, Nancy knew the motion of the car. No, ambulance. The word insinuated itself into the memory.
Noises hummed around her. Traffic. Horns. Wheels. She dozed. The noise increased and swarmed around. A piercing shriek stabbed through her fog. A siren. Ambulance. Siren. She was sick. No, she felt fine. If only the noise would stop.
It wailed to an echo, rose to a keen pitch, very close.
"Christ! Cops!"
"Take it easy, damn it! They can't be after us! Pull over, but stay cool!" Max sounded angry. Cora said, "I'm scared."
"Shhh! Remember the story."
"What is it, officer."
"Where you headed?"
"Greenport, Long Island." Tony's voice was almost casual. "Who's that?"
"Private case. I'm Doctor Bevin. This young lady has had a breakdown and we're moving her to a small sanitarium on the Island. Please, can we keep this brief? My patient is highly excitable." Max was leaning over her to talk to someone outside the front window.
Nancy knew that she should say something. There was something that she was supposed to do or say, but she couldn't remember. She felt the closeness of the man's body to her face. She struggled with the thought but finally had to relinquish it in defeat.
"Open the back door and let's have a look."
"What in the world for, officer? I must insist-"
"Okay, it'll only take a minute. There was a murder a mile or so from here and we have to check out all vehicles. Open it up."
Murder. Fuck a corpse. Nancy giggled silently. Cora's fingers dug into her unfeeling flesh.
Warm air surged into the van as the door opened. Nancy opened her eyes and saw the vague figure framed against the brightness outside. Low voices. Then the sudden eruption of violent noise.
Nancy closed, her eyes and tried to keep the sounds from pounding at her head.
"Okay, hold it. Put your hands up! Up! One move and I'll shoot."
"Up with those hands, buddy and don't try anything."
Cora gasped.
"What's the meaning of this?" Max demanded.
"You heard me. Now don't try anything. We've got a separate gun on each of you. Just push that black bag over here with your foot. Nice and easy. That's the way."
"Pull the stretcher out."
Nancy glided into the bright sunlight.
Voices. Noise. Unbearable light and noise. Then she felt herself bouncing along the street on the rubber-tired cart. Another trip through space. Another cool dark interior. She opened her eyes. A white-coated figure bent over her with a stethescope and pulled down the sheet. The cool circle of metal touched her left breast. Joe. No, it wasn't Joe. Not Tony, either. She'd never seen this face before. She wondered vaguely if he would touch her nipple as Joe had done. .
The shrieking sound of the siren again and she shut her eyes tight with pain as it split the fog in her brain. They were moving again. Bounce, jostle, bounce. Hurry, hurry. Up, down. Noise, faces. Hands, faces. White on white.
Finally, cool sheets under her again. Quiet. Sleep.
She sensed the difference even before she opened her eyes. She came up from the sleep easily and without fuzz, like waking in the morning after a good night's rest. For a few seconds, she lay still, knowing she was not in her own bed and trying to recall where she was and why.
She opened her eyes slowly. The room was sparkling white, with the sun streaming through a window at one side and splashing across the foot of the bed and the floor. The shade was half-drawn to shield her face. It was very quiet. She looked down the long length of the white cover and moved her head. It didn't hurt. Why had she expected it to?
Someone moved quickly, and she saw the girl in the white uniform and cap smile at her. Then the nurse turned and pulled open the door and spoke softly to someone outside. She returned to Nancy's side and smiled at her again.
"How do you feel?"
Nancy's first attempt at speech was dry and thick but in a moment her mouth moistened and she ran her tongue over her lips. The girl in white instantly raised a glass of water from the table and held the bent plastic straw to Nancy's lips. She sipped it and the cool wetness made her feel good.
The door opened. A man in white. A doctor. Not Joe or Tony. With a violent rush, memory scraps bombarded Nancy's brain. She had been drugged and carried off by the two men in white. She looked around the room quickly.
Understanding her gesture, the nurse said, "You're in a hospital. Everything is all right now. This is Doctor Adams."
She looked up into the man's pleasant face. "How do you feel?" he asked.
"Fine. I think. What happened?"
His cool fingers were on her wrist and for a moment he didn't answer. Then he took a small flashlight from his pocket and pried her eyelid open so he could shine the tiny beam of light at her pupil. One eye, then the other. Satisfied, he nodded and turned to the nurse. "Tell the detective he can come in now."
Nancy frowned, but the doctor's quick smile made her feet better. "You had a pretty heavy dose of drugs, but you've come through it okay. The police have been waiting for you to wake up. They want to question you."
The door opened and a man in a rumpled gray suit crossed toward her. "Thanks, doc."
"All right." The doctor motioned to the nurse and the two left the room. The man in the gray suit looked at her. "I'm Detective Harper. You feel well enough to talk?"
She nodded.
"Mind if I sit down?"
"No, not at all."
"Thanks." He looked weary, as though he had gone a long time without sleep. He pulled the straight-back chair close to the bed and leaned back.
"We'll need a signed statement from you, but for now I'd like to hear as much as you can remember of what happened. We've got the three men and the woman. One of them is dead. Tried to shoot his way out of the roadblock." He sighed. "They always think they have a chance. We told him he was covered, but ... " He shrugged and smiled wearily.
Nancy felt the quick flood of memory. She recalled the holdup at the bank, her part as a hostage. The ambulance ride, stopping somewhere in the street.
"Which one?" she asked. Somehow she knew the answer before the policeman answered her question. She readied herself. "Anthony Armadero."
Tony. So young to die, but perhaps too young to go to prison for a long time. He made his choice. Not Joe or Max. They would prefer to stay alive, Joe because he was probably afraid to die and Max because he would always figure he could beat the system eventually. Cora would not take to jail well. Her full-blown looks would fade quickly.
"Want to start at the beginning? Just tell it like it happened, as much as you remember."
His listened as she pieced together her story. She told the truth, only leaving out the things that had shocked her and brought her body first pain, then pleasure. Knowing these facts would not help the policeman's case. Besides, Nancy didn't want to talk about them. She had been submerged in the drug so long, she hadn't yet had a chance to think about how she felt concerning them herself. She told him of her escape down the fire escape and through an empty apartment, omitting the three boys and her sojourn with them.
With sharp clarity, she remembered Henry. Despite his mother's treachery, she could not hurt him even now.
I tried to get into another apartment on the ground floor but it was locked." She avoided looking directly at him. "One of them came in from the street then-Max. He saw me. He took me back upstairs again."
Lies. God help me. God help Henry. The detective accepted her words without question.
"They used chloroform again. It wasn't until they wanted to move me out of the apartment, in the ambulance, that they gave me the shot."
He nodded. "Did you see the money at any time while you were in the apartment?"
She shook her head. "No. I think I remember a black bag when they pushed me into the first car at the bank, but I can't be sure."
He nodded again, but the small frown creased between his eyebrows.
"Did you recover all the money that was taken?"
He shrugged. "Pretty close. Only five thousand was missing. We figure part of it went to get the ambulance and uniforms. We can't account for about three thousand, but the bank isn't complaining. Not when they're getting almost a hundred grand back."
The figure surprised Nancy. She wouldn't have thought anyone would be able to pick up that much in a daring daylight robbery such as this. Not that the bank didn't always have far more than that on hand, but it must have taken very careful planning to know exactly how to go about getting it quickly.
And three thousand missing. Had they paid off Mrs. Scarp with that? Nancy almost hoped so. Henry might have some kind of a decent future after all.
Nancy looked at the detective. "Max seemed to be in charge. Was he?"
"Yes. He had worked for one of the bank's branches for ten years. He was supposed to be on vacation now. I guess he'd been planning the job for a long time. Get rich quick. They all think they can get away with it."
"They almost did!" Nancy said. Then she asked the question that had been forming in her mind ever since she woke. "How did you happen to stop the ambulance?"
"We had a tip that the bank robbers might be in it and the girl on the stretcher was the missing hostage. You." He smiled at her.
She frowned. "A tip?" She didn't understand. After the hopeless maze in which she'd wandered for over twenty-four hours, how had anything so opportune happened?
"Phone. Anonymous. Said three guys and a dame had carried a stretcher out of that old tenement and were heading north on the Parkway. Gave us the name of the ambulance company and a description of you. It was enough to move us. We set up the fake story of the murder as an excuse. We didn't want any shooting if we could help it. Not with you lying in there."
But Tony had shot anyway, preferring death to capture. But who had phoned the tip? Henry? Not possible. There was no phone in the ground floor apartment. Mrs. Scarp? It didn't seem-likely after the way she had turned Nancy back to Max and the others.
The detective was pushing his chair back and getting up. "Well, thanks, Miss Thiese. I appreciate your cooperation. I'll have to ask you to repeat the story for the police stenographer as soon as you feel up to it. And you'll have to come down to the precinct to identify the others for us. But no rush. We'll have a man drive you down when you leave here."
"How long will I have to stay in the hospital?"
"The doc says twenty-four hours more to make sure you have no side effects. You can go home tomorrow."
She smiled. "Thank you."
He laughed, and some of the tired lines vanished from his face. "Don't thank me. I'm just doing my job. The guy you have to thank is the anonymous phone caller. He saved your life. You'd be floating in the Atlantic some place by now if it hadn't been for that call." He smiled again. "Couple of people outside to see you. From the bank. You too tired?"
"No." She felt fine. She had done enough sleeping to last her a long time.
"Goodbye for now." The detective left. It was several minutes before the door opened again. Mr. Harris, the bank president entered. His face was wreathed in smiles.
By the time he left ten minutes later, she had been thanked and re thanked, promised a raise, a bonus as reward and the promotion she'd longed for when she first began there. The bank couldn't do enough for such a brave young lady who had risked her life because of them.
She stared at the white door after he left and felt foolish. She had been so scared the whole time that it seemed to be ridiculous to praise her so lavishly now.
Her second visitor was Peggy. The other young woman was genuinely glad to see her friend safe and well. They talked excitedly for a long time as Nancy told her some of the things that had happened. As in her story to the policeman, she omitted the intimate details.
The sun had disappeared beyond the edge of the building by the time Peggy left. A nurse brought Nancy her dinner and a telephone.
"Your parents have been calling every hour. I'll have the operator put them through next time."
She ate, ravenous after her long fast. An entire day had vanished in the fog of drugs. The phone rang as she sipped her coffee.
She reassured her mother and father that there was no need to come to New York. She was fine. No, they had not hurt her. Yes, she would come home for a visit very soon.
She lay back and closed her eyes.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
THE EXCITEMENT AND strain took its toll and Nancy drifted into light sleep once more. From time to time she opened her eyes at small sounds in the room and saw the nurse moving about efficiently and briskly, but they did not speak. The woman in white made no effort to rouse Nancy from her lethargy, merely to check on her well being. She left a small light burning, and the room was filled with comforting dimness.
It hardly seemed possible that the nightmare was over at last. There was so much to think about, so much to remember. Her whole life was changed, she knew. She had experienced far more than adventure. Even though she had not spoken of the sex encounters to anyone, they were far from forgotten. Now, in the quiet, they were all she could think about.
They had begun as horrible encounters that frightened and bewildered her. But they had left her satisfied and filled. Her body accepted what her mind would not. She had enjoyed even the roughest and most forced fucking. She had wanted them. Maybe this was why her mind could not label any of it rape. Her body had welcomed each thrust it received. She had tingled with pleasure and need, discovered a new part of her being. And now she knew that she could never retreat, never go back to the innocence she had known. She wanted sex. The picture of the girl she had been two days before was hard to bring forth now.
She smiled to herself as she recalled the panic that had placed her in the bank lobby at the time the holdup men came through. A phone call. She had been planning to have her number changed because of the mysterious phoner who roused demon thoughts in her.
As though on cue, the bell of the telephone shattered her reverie. She jerked up, startled. Then the reassuring hospital room made her smile as she lifted the receiver.
"Hello?"
For a moment there was no answer. She almost imagined she could hear someone breathing, and a flutter of remembered panic beat at her briefly. But she was safe now, and the fear subsided quickly.
"Hello?" she repeated.
"Yeah, hi."
She didn't recognize the deep, soft tone. "Who is this?"
He laughed softly. "I just wanted to check and see if you're okay."
"Yes. I-" She stopped, trying to fit the voice to a vague memory.
"Yeah, well, that's great. I was worried."
Recognition hovered, then dawned. The black boy in the empty apartment. Gunner. Gunner, who had raped her. Gunner, who had returned long enough to give her his shirt.
"You!" There was no condemnation in the single word of recognition. "You called the police," she said, sure now.
He laughed. "Ain't that far out? Me callin' the pigs. Yeah."
Her tone was soft. "Why did you do it?"
She could almost imagine him shrugging, his dark face grinning. "Shit, I told you, I was worried about you. I got to thinking about what you said and the clown who came looking for you. The more I thought about it the more I knew I could believe you a hell of a lot easier than I could him. I came back for another look this morning."
"Thank you." She meant it, too.
"Nothing, baby. Forget it."
"No, I never will. They were going to kill me. They would have if it hadn't been for that call. Thank you."
"Yeah, well, it's okay. And kid?"
"Yes?"
"I'm sorry about the rest of it. We were a little stoned and out of touch."
For a moment she couldn't answer. She wasn't sorry, and now she was driven to say so. "It's all right. I mean, it was ... it doesn't matter."
There was a heavy silence on the line as if he were weighing her hesitant admission and finding the truth in it, "I'm glad," he said finally. Then he added very softly, "You were good, baby, very good. I haven't forgotten."
From somewhere beyond her mind, she said, "Neither have I." And she knew it was true. "Yeah, well, I'm glad you're okay."
"Don't hang up."
"Huh?"
"I mean, I'd like to see you again." She'd said it.
"To thank you."
Silence hung between them.
Then he said, "We're even, baby. You don't owe me nothing."
"I know, I didn't mean it that way." Her mouth was dry and she ran her tongue over her lips. "I want to see you again."
"We live in different worlds, baby."
"We can be friends." She felt a thin film of perspiration form on her forehead. She was nervous, wanting him to understand, meaning the words that were so hard to get out.
The silence again. After a while, she thought maybe he was gone, but there had been no breaking click of the connection.
"Gunner?"
"Baby, I'm reading things into your words that maybe you don't mean."
"Maybe I do mean them."
"I'm black."
"We can still-"
"Be friends," he finished. They laughed softly together and the tension was broken. "I guess you do mean it, chick."
"Yes, I do." And she knew it was the truth. "I'm going home tomorrow. Will you come to see me?"
He hesitated only a fraction of a second. "Yeah."
Quickly, she gave him the address. He hung up without saying goodbye.
* * *
The shaft of yellow moonlight touched Nancy's naked body as she slept. The covers were a tangled heap at the foot of the bed, and the warm air caressed her damp flesh.
The harsh jangle of the phone jerked her up and her hand went out in a reflex motion. She lifted the receiver without even thinking about it.
The heavy breath filled her ear. Then he said hoarsely, "Mmmmmm, I like you all sleepy and warm like that, baby. I like the way those lovely tits stick out and wait for my hungry mouth. Mmmmmm, let me suck one. Mmmmm, suck and fuck. Soon we'll fuck."
The voice was the same one that had terrified her so many nights before. Her obscene caller. The man in the dark who had been a threat to her sanity-was it only three days ago?
She laughed softly, and he seemed to catch his breath in surprise.
He tried to recapture the intimacy. "I'm getting all hard and hot for you. Mmmmmm, let me look at that beautiful pussy."
Nancy laughed softly again and said, "Goodbye." Then she hung up the phone and lay back on the pillow.
"Who was that, baby?" Gunner asked as he turned his nude length to her and pressed himself along the curves of her body.
She kissed his moist lips and clung to his gleaming body in the moonlight. "No one at all, Gunner. No one that matters." She kissed him again. "Fuck me again."
His hands were already cupping her ass and pulling her close to his waiting cock. "What time is it?"
"About four," she said without looking at the clock. It was always four. She got her hand between their bodies and found his long cock that waited for her to bring life back to it again. They had made passionate and wild love for hours before they'd finally drifted to sleep. Now, she was eager for more, needing to be filled with the strength of his body, his force and power. She stroked on his prick and the blood began to surge to it and fill it. The cock filled her fist, and his hand went to open the gate of her hairy cunt.
"Okay, doll, I'm game. You really dig this fucking scene now, don't you?"
"Mmmmmm. Yes. Ohh, I'm getting hot."
"You're nice and wet already."
"You're so hard!"
"I dig fucking too. How do you want it this time, doll?"
"I don't know. I know so little. Surprise me."
He laughed softly. "Okay, baby."
He played at her cunt until she was very wet and quivering with need. He alternated to sucking her and letting her suck his hard cock. He sucked up her cunt juice and then stirred out more with his tongue and fingers. When she was very hot again and whimpering for him, he rolled her over the edge of the bed and drove the spearing hard shaft into her ass-hole. His hands were under her belly, pressing her upward as he drove the stalk down into her. She was breathless with excitement and lust. She could feel the pressure of his prick meet the pressure of his hands, and her cunt was caught in ecstatic throes between them.
She whispered words of need to him in the moonlit room. She pleaded for new release.
And when he came in her ass-hole, she came with a force that was complete. But this time, she wasn't surprised. She was a whole woman.
