With the publication of "The Big Snatch" by R. L. Vanessa, a new type of novel dealing both with sexual and criminal perversion, was introduced to the London reading public. It proved to be immensely popular with readers and set a new record for sales for a first novel. However, the London Chief Censor's Office found the descriptions of the sex act and other types of perversion too truthfully graphic and decided to ban the book throughout England. "The Big Snatch" had by this time achieved a certain notoriety and became a collector's item of avant-garde erotica on the continent.
Enlightening similarities that may help us understand the psychosexual behavior of the main characters in this book are given by Dr. S. Scymanski. These excerpts are from the noted analyst's personal case history file:
"The patient, Sylvia S. was an attractive young woman who, as a teen-ager, began to masturbate by inserting the neck of a wine-bottle, lubricated with vaseline, into her vaginal orifice. She so enjoyed the sensation of intense orgasm produced by this method, that she taught her friends how to masturbate this way as well. From this it was but a step to mutual masturbation and lesbian relationships. She describes her present lesbian activity as follows:
"'I like to suck and kiss Jackie's breasts. I also like to kiss her with my tongue rolling around in her mouth. I like to use my finger on her clitoris and vagina. When I massage her there, she gets very wet and her legs and torso move very spasmodically as she goes into a real, moaning orgasm. I finish her off by kissing her nipples. Then she puts her mouth to my vagina, and I have an orgasm the moment my clitoris feels her tongue.' "
Continental Classics feels that this novel should prove psychologically enlightening and instructive to the reader from many aspects, and presents this dramatic novel from this point of view. Because of its themes, it is recommended only for the graduate student, or mature adult reader.
A. L. Saunders, M. A. New York City June, 1969
CHAPTER ONE
The milky-white skin and inky black tresses of the naked Lita Hernandez made a startling, attractive combination as her lush cunt and ass lay undulating on the lawyer's couch. The handsome, masculine Ty Grinnell's blue eyes shone with hump-lust as he prepared to collect part of his fee for getting Lita's divorce, in a most pleasant manner.
"I'll never get rich this way," Ty smiled as he stripped the shorts from his lithe, rippling loins and lay down beside the passionate, voluptuous beauty.
Her titties were like curved snowy hillocks, topped by large cherry-red nipples. Ty caressed and fondled their delightful softness, rubbing his palms across Lita's nipples. His lips closed over them and he felt them jut and harden with desire under his darting tongue. Lita's red lips quivered and her full thighs and asscheeks strained with mounting desire. Ty's head moved slowly down her waist, his tongue caressing the edge of her deep navel, then tantalizing its very center.
He fucked her with his muscled, powerful frame and felt her hips and thighs wriggling in a seductive samba beneath his stiff prick. Her white hands reached to his dark loins and gracefully fondled his pulsing hard-on. Quickly she lifted and bent her knee, guiding his big cock to the velvety warmth of her tropical cunt. Ty cupped the perfection of her shimmering asscheeks, his prick lunging powerfully into her twat as Lita whimpered happily. Her flaring asscheeks wriggled excitedly to meet Ty's terrific cock-thrusts.
She cried aloud in shrill joy as her cunt twitched in an uncontrollable carioca of peak ecstasy as she "came". Ty's loins contracted in a last frenzied lunge and red-hot spurts of scum seemed to sear through his cock in volcanic release, as he shot his load into Lita's cunt.
Lita's dark tresses rippled on Ty's heaving chest as he held her satisfied and happy in his embrace.
"You are a much better fucker than my husband, Rafael, could ever be...." Lita murmured contentedly.
The day had started right, but not profitably enough on the money side, Ty thought as he left his office later for some coffee. In the street he spotted another of his varied clients whose cash fee prospects looked quite bright. He nodded and greeted him briefly.
Tony Zappa wasn't much more than a bum. He was in his fifties, lived with his daughter who made a precarious income as a hustler. He was drunk most of the time. He had been drunk when he had been hit by the black Lincoln, a week ago. Actually, he had not been hurt beyond a few bruises. The woman driving the car had stopped and had wanted to take him to the hospital, but Tony wouldn't go. He hated hospitals. Of course it had been a mistake that the woman hadn't insisted on taking him to the hospital-and it had been a mistake the woman didn't report the accident, even though it seemed unimportant.
Ty Grinned was clever.
He had heard of the accident, had talked to Tony, had offered to collect some money to pay for the bruises, had traced the driver of the black Lincoln-and now he was ready to talk to her. That is he would try to talk to her, and try to collect. He was not sure what would happen. If the woman was sensible, if she turned to someone for advice, he was licked. He was counting on her fears, on her desire to cover up the accident.
The woman lived at an address on upper Park Avenue-a good address. You had to have money to live up there.
He crossed to the restaurant on the corner, and went inside. Ernie Snyder, who owned and ran the place, was behind the counter. He was a huge man. "Who's the new girl?"
"Calls herself Lorene. She won't be around long."
Ty grinned sourly. It was easy to guess why Ernie Snyder had trouble with his waitresses. He had an itchy cock. He could never leave them alone.
"More coffee?" asked a voice across the counter.
He raised his head-and was amazed. Ernie Snyder's new waitress was something unusual. Rather slim, possibly, but the expression on her face caught attention. Her eyes were a deep, steady blue, a faint smile curved her lips. She was younger than he had guessed, eighteen or nineteen, and there was something clean and fresh about her. He noticed something else, the lush bulge of her tits.
He nodded. "Isn't your name Lorene?"
She poured the coffee. "Yes. Lorene."
"My name's Ty Grinnell. I'm an attorney.
Her lips twitched. "I've never needed an attorney."
"Someday you might."
"I doubt it."
"At least, remember the name," Ty said. "If Ernie gets too rough, come and see me."
Her face sobered, Ernie's hands had already fumbled at her tits. Maybe she had escaped from him easily-but next time she might not. Ty scowled.
She turned away-and he liked the way she moved her body, the faint rhythm of her hips. This girl had possibilities.
"Wonder if I'll ever see her again?"
He was afraid he might not. One more trip into the kitchen or a trip into the storeroom, and Lorene might have had enough of Ernie's attempts to get his dong up her pussy. She might quit. This was a big city. A girl could disappear into it easily.
A taxi picked him up, headed uptown, and now he devoted all his thoughts to the job ahead-the clipping of Mrs. Elinor Cameron.
In reality, Tony had been drunk, and had walked into the car himself. He had bounced off, and he might have been bruised, but in the routine job of staggering home he had hurt himself even more. He had not expected any money from the driver of the car. That proposal had come from Ty Grinnell. He grinned crookedly and thought, ambulance chaser-that's what I am. But why not?
The taxi pulled into the curb on upper Park Avenue in front of an imposing building.
The doorman turned to a telephone. "Whom should I say is calling?"
"I'm an attorney," Ty said. "Will you please tell her it's in reference to the accident last week?"
Ty stood impatiently while the doorman spoke over the telephone.
Ty smiled, headed for the elevator.
The elevator to the left carried him quickly to the fifteenth floor. Mrs. Cameron was in the open doorway, looking anxiously his way.
"Mrs. Cameron?" Ty said, walking toward her.
"Yes, I'm Mrs. Cameron."
She was tall and he thought at first she was slender but then he wondered about that. In a way she wasn't. She had wide shoulders, a well-fleshed body. She was young, too, in the thirties, and in spite of her worried frown, she looked attractive. Nice skin, deep brown eyes, a generous, well-shaped mouth. Good pair of tits too. They thrust against the light dress she was wearing-a rather plain dress-white and clinging.
"I ... I didn't expect anyone," she said slowly. "I thought ... that is...."
"I wouldn't worry about it," Ty answered. "Everything considered, Tony's in good shape."
"He's the man who ... who...."
"The man you ran into."
"He seemed to ... to blunder into the car. I mean really didn't run into him. That is...."
"He thinks you did, Mrs. Cameron."
"Shouldn't I call my attorney?"
"First, why don't we talk about it."
"Please come in." He had expected that this would be quite a place-and it was.
"Come this way."
She turned toward one of the doors. A woman almost as tall as he was, her body nicely put together. What he could see of her legs was rather good, and the sway of her hips was tantalizing. It occurred to him that if he was not careful he might get more interested in the woman than in his mission-but that would be all right. Elinor Cameron might be fun to fuck! A nice thought but he shook his head. The frosty, upper crust edge of New York society had never appealed to him-even in his thoughts.
The library was as imposing as the parlor.
"What did you say your name was?"
"Ty Grinnell."
"Do you live down there?"
"Yes. On Fifth Street. I'd like to show it to you, sometime. Small, but rather nice. I don't need much room, really."
"The man I hurt ... how badly is he injured?"
"Not badly," Ty smiled. "He hasn't been able to work, of course. In fact, he lost his job because he couldn't report at the restaurant."
"But that's not fair!"
"There's no union to care for men who work as dishwashers."
"Is that what he did?"
"Yes. When you get older, it's hard to find jobs. Now I'm not sure hell ever be able to work."
"Why?"
"He's in sort of a mental and physical collapse."
"What do you think I ought to do?"
"I'm not sure how I should answer that. Did you report the accident to the police?"
"No. I didn't think ... that is...."
"If Tony went to court he might be able to get quite a good settlement. He has lots of friends. If they had to they'd lie to help him. He's old, crippled, poor. You are rich and wealthy.
"Then ... I'm in trouble."
"Yes. I'm afraid so."
"I'll have to call my attorney."
"Unless we can work out something which might be suitable."
"If I have to, I'll call my attorney ... but I'd rather not call him. And I don't want to have to tell my husband. That is ... well ... I just don't want to have to tell him."
Ty frowned, but he wanted to smile. This was perfect. This was the situation he had wanted to run into. A frightened woman-one who didn't want to admit what she had done-a woman who wanted to cover what she had done. This left her wide open. The only problem, now, was money. How much money could she put her hands on?
He tried to make his voice pleasant. "Mrs. Cameron...."
"Yes."
"You want to do what you can for Tony, don't you?"
"Yes, but ... "
"But what?"
"It's not easy for me to get money."
"Your husband...."
"He's rich, I suppose. But I'm not, I can charge almost anything-buy almost anything I want-but I hardly ever handle any money. I mean...."
"I suppose you'll have to go to court," the woman said. "Or at least you'll want to talk to my husband."
"I might have to," Ty answered.
"I'd do almost anything to work out something, so Hugh wouldn't have to know."
"Hugh?"
"My husband. He ... he doesn't want to trust me with the car."
"How much money do you have?"
"Maybe a hundred dollars. I have jewelry...."
"No."
"Then ... then what should I do?"
"I don't know," Ty said. "I want to protect you ... but I have to think of Tony, too."
He was scowling-he was almost stumped. Where did he turn now? It was too risky to take jewelry. And he couldn't turn to Hugh Cameron or the woman's attorney, for he really didn't have a case.
"I think I'd like a drink. I mean ... would that be all right?"
"Sure. Go ahead," Ty answered. "Maybe you'd like one?"
"Why not?"
He got up, followed her to the bar across the room.
"Bourbon?" the woman asked.
"Anything."
She poured two drinks-generous drinks.
She moved closer. Her hand was on his arm but now he could feel the brushing touch of her body-her ass-her shoulder. Her lips had parted and she must have moistened them. He suddenly noticed that and the look in her eyes ... Maybe it was an appealing expression-or maybe it said a hell of a lot more. Maybe it said, Why don't you try and lay me?
He took her in his arms, and there was no trouble about that at all. Her body fit against his, her arms curved around him, her head tilted back so her mouth was easy to find a mouth which wasn't closed against him. It took the probing of his kiss-and she hung there as though she wanted to stay there. A warm, sweet mouth, the edging lips tight against his tongue.
"Any danger the maid might walk in?"
"She's not here today. No one's going to walk in."
He moved a hand to cup one of her tits. It was large but firm. He heard her laugh softly, felt her push against his hand, felt her push her entire body against him, and thought, Damn it, she can hardly wait for cock-so what am I waiting for? His hand tightened briefly on her tit and he said, "Where's the bedroom?"
"The first door down the conidor-to the left."
He found the bedroom. He lowered the woman to the bed, stripped off his clothes and then got busy on hers.
Her clothes were no trouble, they were suddenly gone. He stretched out beside her, held her close in his arms, found her lips again-and her tits. They were even bigger and better than he had imagined, high on her chest, each one crowned by a thrusting nipple. The nipples had hardened the instant he had touched them. His hand moved from one to the other.
He pulled away from her mouth, then his head worked lower, to her cheeks, her chin, her throat, and then to her breasts. His lips tried one of the nipples. He moved over to try the other. Her ass had started moving in a rhythm of its own, measured by the pounding of her heart and the sound of her breathing, cadenced by the throbbing of her emotions.
One of her hands slid over his throbbing prick and balls. Her excitement seemed to be growing. He heard her start grunting, then heard her whispering, "Now! Now! Now!"
Her arms reached for him locked around his waist, tight. She clung to him like a burr, rocking with him. Her entire body was nothing but motion, a flowing motion pitched to a high plane of excitement. She had a fuck-hunger that had to be satisfied, to be fed.
He was active, too. He was at both ends-the giving and the receiving. He worked against her, parting her moist cuntlips and stroking her erecting clitoris with his fingers. And again and again, building up the tensions for her, teasing her with every motion, working on her cunt as a master violinist, drawing from her a wild music, a song as sweeping as a tempest. He drew her on and he went right with her.
And there they were ... he thrust his stiff, huge prick into her writhing cunthole and began screwing her with vigorous strokes of his dick in her wet vagina.
The crescendo he had been building came quicker than he expected, as spurting hot scum jetted into her cunt in huge quantities.
That tore over his body, soaking up his tensions. He could feel this was doing the same thing to her, stealing away her strength, reaching over her cunt to soothe her, to numb her high-edged excitement. Her arms, which had been gripped around him, grew lax, slid down, relaxing. He still lay next to her. And just for the hell of it he started moving his prick in her twat again.
"Want to get me started again?"
"If you feel like that."
She started moving his prick in her twat again. Her arms reached out to pull him harder against her breast and in half a minute there she was, building herself to another finish-as wild as before ... Ty shot his sperm into her in a second "come", and she flooded his cock with her cunt-juices as she "came" with him wailing, "Oh fuck me, keep fucking me-this is so good!"
Afterward she relaxed. Ty got an arm under her neck, held her close. His other hand curled around one of the breasts. "Just want to be sure they don't go away," he murmured.
"They're not going away," the woman said. "They like the treatment they got. They're going to want even more attention."
"They'll get that."
"Ty. Isn't that your name?"
"That's right. What do I call you?"
"Ellie. That's a little better than Elinor. Mrs. Elinor Cameron who used to be Ellie Blake and who wanted to be in the movies. I got as far as getting laid on a TV director's couch."
"What's this stuff about a director's couch?"
"That's all true. That's what Hugh is-he works at one of the TV studios. He's one of the directors."
"Nice guy?"
"Better than most. He's away a good deal."
"Good."
"What about you?"
"No story. I grew up here, went through law school, started practicing. No family-no wife."
"No wives but a stable of mistresses."
He shook his head. "I don't work that way. Several affairs in the past ... but not many."
He was lying of course. He might have been able to count the women he had had, but it had never occurred to him to try. He could have said, in fair honesty, that none of the women he had fucked with had been very important in his life-but that was intentional. He wanted no entangling alliances. Sure he might get married someday but he couldn't see that day ahead.
In a few moments he would turn toward Ellie, start fucking her again, but first he took a look at himself, thought about what had happened. To make another cock-conquest with an agreeable piece of ass was nothing unusual. That had happened many times in the past, it would happen many times in the future. In a way, then, he shouldn't have been surprised at where he was, but at the same time this was an unique experience. Ellie Cameron wasn't the average lay. He was uptown, doing his screwing at an exclusive address. Maybe this was symbolic. Maybe he was on his way up. Maybe, if he handled Ellie very carefully, she could help him.
"Ty. what about that man who ran into my car? You're not going to tell my husband?"
He shook his head. "Probably not."
"What about him?"
"Hell get along. Maybe I can work out something for him ... an easy job. I have some good contacts."
"You would do that for me, Ty?"
"If lean."
"I think you are a wonderful man."
"I'd rather be a wonderful fucker."
"You are-but this other thing is also important. I don't want to feel guilty about the man I hurt. If I could get the money...."
"You ought to have money, anyhow ... just as a protection. If I were you I'd get to work on that."
"Hugh's hard to handle."
"You handled him once, Ellie. You married him. Now go another step-don't feel stripped for money."
"Just stripped for you."
He laughed, and turned toward her. "That's right, exactly. Stay stripped for me."
He raised up on his elbow, looked at her critically. She had a damned nice body, properly curved everywhere. In time her upper arms would get too fleshy, her legs would grow too thick, but right now, there was nothing wrong with her. Nothing at all. She had wide shoulders, curved in to a narrow waist, then bulged out over her hips, but tapered in to draw down her slendering legs. Her chest was high, over the edge of her rib cage the plane of her waist and abdomen was almost flat. Her skin was a creamy white, unblemished. Her luscious titties lifted nicely into the air. Beautiful. Designed for a man's hands. Hard nippled, brown and wrinkled. He reached out to touch one of her nipples then the other.
"Careful," Elbe said, "-or I'll forget myself."
He grinned at her. "You'll forget yourself-and do what?"
"Rape that big prick of yours, most likely. You won't have a chance."
"That might be fun."
"Then just keep on what you're doing, and when my cunny starts getting hot again-look out."
He laughed at her softly, ruffed his fingers over her knockers. One, then the other. And again and again, teasing her. He got a little rougher, rolled against her, found her lips and kissed her hard, brutally. He worked down to her breasts as he had before but his lips weren't so gentle this time. Those tits of hers looked tough enough to take a mauling, and he tried that, pushing his face at them. He took a bite at one, then the other, and he felt Elbe's ass start writhing. He heard her sigh, then he felt her fingernails digging into his back.
She started struggling with him, twisted away, and suddenly she was in a commanding position, had him on his back and was kissing him. He could feel the touch of her caress and he thought this session was going to end right there-but she had different plans. She moved again, and he felt her torrid cuntlips embrace the head of his cock and slide down his stiff shaft. After that, she stayed where she was. She worked hard frigging his cock with her hot, slippery cunt. She was sweating.
This was all right. They were building up to a hell of a session. She had told him she would pull out all the stops but with a woman like Ellie, there were never any stops. She was one of those rare individuals who loved fucking-any time-and place and with any stiff prick available. There was no reason to kid himself. At this moment she probably couldn't have remembered who he was. She didn't care. His dick was available. He was usable. And she was taking advantage of that. She was having a hell of a time sitting on his cock and fucking it like mad, and that was all that counted.
He helped a little, and he could almost pick up the rumbling beat of his gathering passions.
They were building up again....
Higher and higher and higher....
Higher and over the top ... boom ... he was surprised to find himself shooting still another load of hot scum into her cunt.
Over the top and then down the slide to some kind of reality. Waiting until she stopped writhing in the throes of this "come". Waiting until she stopped whispering, "Fuck me, Ty, fuck me hard. I just love that cock of yours!" Back to the present. Back to the mundane. Back to the remembrance of who he was, and where he was, and who was with him-a woman named Ellie, who loved screwing and who was damned good at fucking herself.
She rested beside him, her head on his chest.
"Anything else interesting down there where you live?"
"Men!"
"No. You're man enough. I just wondered...."
"A party."
"What kind of a party?"
He almost laughed. Hell, he should have expected something like this. Ellie was the type who would try anything-who had to find new things to try. She was made to order to fit any kind of hump-orgy which was on the books. Or she would help devise something different in the way of fucking. If she had any inhibitions at all, they were tiny and too faint to be important.
She smoothed her hand over his chest. "I like parties, Ty. Mad, crazy parties. We might even throw one here, when Hugh's away."
"I know of one we could try," Ty said.
"A fun-fun party."
"A fun party-but a little rough, too. Rudy's Rendezvous."
"When?"
"I'll have to find out. It'll be a mixed party. Anything goes."
She smoothed her hand around his chest. "Anything goes-that's for me, Ty. Find out when we can go."
"Sure I'll find out."
Her hand moved. "I'm not trying to start anything. I just like to hold that marvelous cock of yours and feel your balls. Besides, what do I feel on my breast?"
"That's my hand."
"So we're even. Are you hungry, yet?"
"Not enough to move."
"Suppose I do the moving," Ellie smiled coyly, the tip of her tongue moistening her full, sensuous lips.
Ty's chest heaved pleasurably as he felt the thrilling flutter of her tongue across his hair-matted skin. Ellie's mouth roamed hungrily over his muscled torso, lips working eagerly, Ty felt surprising strainings of renewed desire in his erecting cock. He tried to pull his flat, ridged belly away from the intense sensation of her burning lips, but her mouth zeroed in on his navel as he squirmed.
Ellie knew what she wanted. Her head went shamelessly to his stiff prick and Ty experienced an unforgettable thrill as his now lusting cock was bathed in a flood of delightfully vibrating moistness. Elbe's lips curled and moved in a provocative tempo around his dick-head and up and down the shaft of his dong, arousing flaming, feverish desire through Ty's straining dick and balls. He suddenly cried out as her tongue beat its unusual tattoo right in his piss-hole. His loins arched ecstatically as white-hot scum shot from his aching balls and surged and crested through his prick, jetting right down Ellie's throat in warm, creamy globs. Ty beat his clenched fists on the mattress and drummed his heels in the throes of sweet, ultimate "coming". Ellie simply moaned as she kept sucking his cock-head, swallowing all the dribbling sperm, down to the very last drop....
CHAPTER TWO
Lorene Turker's well-rounded figure drooped with discouragement as she stacked the dirty dishes into the dishwasher behind the counter in Ernie's Cafeteria. Her long, dark blonde hair made a lovely frame for her fine features, but her light blue eyes were clouded with tears. Her old familiar trouble was trailing her again-men couldn't keep their hands off her attractive body.
The fat, mustached face of Ernie Snyder, her new boss, had leered at her knowingly as he patted her voluptuous asscheeks behind the carried trays into the kitchen. Before three hours were gone, he had already carried trays into the kitchen. Before three hours wer gone, he had already backed her up against the kitchen wall and was feeling around lewdly for her cunt under her uniform. Luckily his frigging attempts had been interrupted by the bakery delivery man.
By mid-afternoon, Lorene realized she wouldn't be able to stay here. There was a lull after the noon rush, and during that period Ernie tried to fuck her three times. The last time he caught her in the storageroom and she practically had to fight her way out. Now, she was waiting for only one thing-her first day's wage. She needed the money.
Back in Cedarville High School when she had graduated, last summer, she had been named as the girl most likely to succeed. The boy named as most likely to succeed had gone to college. What had happened to her had been rather horrible. Her classmates had been wrong. She would never succeed, but she might become notorious.
He came into the kitchen, scowled at her. A big, heavy man, pot-bellied, bald, the shadow of his beard darkening the lower part of his face. His words came out in a growl. "What's the matter with you, anyhow?"
"I just don't want to fuck for you or anyone else," Lorene answered.
"Maybe my cock is too common for you, huh?"
"No. I think you're a fine man."
"Hell, you been fucked plenty before," Ernie said. "Don't know why you're so damned snotty. I got a damned good notion to give you to Rudy."
"Rudy?"
"Sure. He's always on the look for a new cunt. They never last long with Rudy."
Lorene didn't know what he was talking about. She didn't know who Rudy was. She didn't care. She would last through the next hour-if she could-collect her money, and move on. Maybe she'd find a better job in the morning.
"Nope, I won't give you to Rudy," Ernie said, and he grinned. "Think I'd rather keep you myself. Want to make an extra five bucks?"
Lorene's eyes narrowed. "How?"
"Work through the supper hour until about eight."
She hesitated. Four and a half hours more, for five dollars. There would be more tip money, too. She was tired, but she could last until eight. If Ernie would only stop trying to frig her....
She dried her hands. "Give me the five dollars now."
"Why don't you trust me."
"I just want to feel the money ... that's all. Five dollars now, another five dollars at eight."
He dug out a roll of bills, found a five, held it out. Lorene took it and as her hand closed around it, the man lunged forward. His beefy arms wrapped around her, held her tight. He pushed his face against her, his mouth against hers. He tried to force his tongue past her lips. He could manage that much, but he couldn't move her teeth.
Lorene twisted, jerked. She got one arm free, started clawing at the side of his face-and that was too much. He let her go, raised his hand to touch his scratched face. "Damned bitch," he grated.
"I just want to be left alone," Lorene said.
Ernie's eyes were blazing but he didn't move toward her again. Then he looked around toward the front of the restaurant-and he must have remembered the rush he faced tonight. He glanced around at Lorene again, and said, "All right, anything you say. Stay until eight o'clock. I won't touch you again."
In the rear of the kitchen, Christy Huggins, the Negro cook, put down the knife he had been cleaning. "One of these days," he said under his breath. "One of these days." He tested the edge of the knife, looked bitterly at Ernie's retreating back.
Lorene took a steadying breath.
Christy Huggins edged toward her. "You better go while you can, ma'am. That man Ernie-he is no good."
"Why do you stay her, Christy?"
The man grinned. "I am black and I am a man. He doesn't bother me. I can use his money."
At the tubs, Lorene got busy washing dishes, rinsing them, and stacking them up to dry. She kept busy, but in spite of that she looked backward at one of the shadows which followed her. It was shocking how easily she could fall into the past, turn the time backward, look at what had happened. Her parents had died abruptly at the end of the summer. They had left her destitute. This really hadn't bothered her. She was young, strong. She could take care of herself. She had said that to Carl Bowman, who had wanted to marry her-and he was rather relieved. Actually, Carl had planned to go to the university. He was there-lucky Carl!
But what had happened to her?
Aunt Emily, her only relative, had said to her, "Lorene, why don't you stay with us for a while?"
Jud Stebbins, Aunt Emily's husband, a quiet, retiring man!
A good man-but rotten all the way through!
He had smiled at her and nodded. "Yes, child, we'd like you to stay with us-as long as you wish."
He had sounded very gentle, very kind. A large, slow-moving man, heavy, thick-bodied.
Aunt Emily wanted her to do the housework, the mending, the cleaning, the cooking. Jud had his own ideas of what he wanted, and they were shocking. He caught her one morning in the barn, grabbed her, and in the twinkling of an eye had his hand down the neck of her dress, and was mauling her tits. His breath was warm and sour and he smothered her face with slobbering kisses. He had begun pulling up her dress and feeling for her cunt when she escaped.
Three days later a neighbor woman dropped by to pick up Aunt Emily, and take her to a Baptist Mission Society meeting. Jud was working in one of the fields across the creek. Lorene noticed him there as she drew more water from the well. It was a relief that he was that far away-and busy. But less than fifteen minutes later she heard a sound at the door, and looked around and saw him coming in. A huge, sweating man-grinning at her-his eyes too bright-too excited.
Lorene stood up. It ran through her mind that the thing to do was jerk away, streak for the front door, get outside and keep going. But her legs wouldn't work, she couldn't move, she seemed paralyzed by the fear which had gripped her. She tried to tell herself that Jud wouldn't hurt her, that after all he was the husband of Aunt Emily. She tried to remember how kind and good he was. But he really wasn't good and kind and she knew it. And it would not bother him that she was a relative of his wife.
Her legs could finally move. She backed away. "I ... I ... what do you want?"
"You know what I want." His laugh was low. "Never been much of a question, has there? You'll fuck me, baby-fuck me."
She kicked at him, clawed at him-and then she started screaming. There was no one nearby who could have heard her. If she had thought about it she would have realized that. The screaming couldn't have helped-but it seemed to anger the man. He hit her on the side of the head. Hard enough to knock her out.
Most likely she wasn't unconscious very long-three or four minutes. But during those few minutes Jud must have carried her to the bedroom, and stripped off her clothes. She had a vague memory of that happening. He must also have taken off his own clothes for as she gradually awoke she realized he was on the bed with her, holding her in his arms.
"Wake up, baby. Wake up. I didn't mean to hurt you, but you started screaming. I don't like screaming."
She didn't answer. She really didn't listen to him. She was just realizing where she was-and where he was-and that her clothes were gone and his, too. His body, pulled against her, was warm. It smelled of perspiration. A rough, calloused hand was on one of her tits. One of his arms was around her, a hard muscled arm. It was tougher than steel.
She was on the bed-on the far side away from the door.
She was nude and she was no match for his strength.
She couldn't have been in a more hopeless position.
He seemed to enjoy the wide sadistic streak in his personality. No, he wouldn't listen to her if she cried or if she begged. He would just be increasingly cruel.
He was talking again. "Wake up, baby. Wake up. We're wasting time. Isn't this nice? Wake up baby!"
"I'm awake," Lorene said.
"Awake! Well I'll be damned. No screaming?"
"I didn't mean to scream."
"I was thinking of Aunt Emily...."
"Forget her." The man laughed. "She don't give a damn about me, anyhow. But you and me, baby, we can go to town and fuck like crazy."
He rolled toward her, pulled her closer, and started kissing her, and at first the foul smell of his breath almost overwhelmed her. And then his kissing was too much, his thick lips jabbing against her mouth. Carl Bowman had kissed her, but she hadn't minded that from him.
Carl Bowman-what happened to him?
Would she ever see him again?
Probably not.
She suddenly forgot the kissing. Something was happening to her tits. Jud's rough and calloused hand had started mauling them but for some crazy reason she didn't mind. A strange, exciting feeling had started radiating from her breasts. That started warming her body. That tapped other nerves, started them vibrating. Even her heartbeat had picked up. She could feel its hard pounding.
Jud had moved his head. He had moved down on her breast, was doing something to her nipples with his lips. A sharp tingle ran over her body ... and another ... and another. She rolled to one side and then to the other. Her cunt started twitching. Her good, warm, exciting feelings were overwhelming the thoughts in her mind. Her emotions had taken charge of her vagina. Her pussy had become a bundle of sensations, reacting to Jud's huge bull-like prick, which he shoved brutally between her cuntlips and then up her vagina....
She couldn't lie still, Her cunt was moving-dancing on the bed. She was acting disgracefully, and she knew, but she couldn't seem to stop fucking up and down on his thick shaft as he thrust in and out of her cunt.
The seething storm seemed to blow her apart, as she felt his hot scum shooting into her writhing twat.
All her mounting tensions seemed to drain away ... vanish as her pussy shuddered in her orgasm under the onslaught of his ejaculating prick.
Jud was still working his cock in and out of her tight cunt, having his own "come", but she tried not to think about him, tried not to think of the way she had acted. That wasn't my fault, she was thinking. It was my pussy that was wrong-I couldn't control that. When you're being practically raped, you can't coast. Or if you do coast downward. I should have known that. When you coast, you coast downhill.
Jud pulled his cock out of her twat, rolled to the side, and gave a satisfied grunt. He made a brief comment. "Not bad for the first fuck-not bad at all."
Lorene said nothing. She was conscious of a smarting pain all through her vagina. What a horrible way to end her virginity. That would have been much better if she hadn't pushed Carl away. At least, Carl had said he loved her.
Jud grunted again, moved his hand, rested it on one of her breasts, "Gotta build up these tits of yours," he told her. "Don't worry. I know how to treat 'em."
"But Jud...."
He shook his head. "What the hell's the matter with you? We got all afternoon, ain't we? Emily won't get back until after five. Before then, I'll have screwed you three times-maybe four times. This here cock of mine is pretty damn good."
Lorene took a long, deep breath. She tried to make it a steadying breath. He wasn't through fucking her. He meant to frig her again ... and again ... and again....
He turned her, started mauling her breasts, and he said, "Baby, we're just getting started screwing. We got all afternoon. Don't know what we'll do about tomorrow, maybe III be waiting for you in the barn when you go out to gather the eggs. Lot of fun, sometimes tearing off a piece of cunt on the run. We're gonna try every single way of screwing! Everything. When you go to bed, sleep on the far side. Most likely, I'll join you. Emily sleeps like a log."
Her thoughts were interrupted by Ernie Snyder who came from the main part of the restaurant. He growled at her angrily. "Ain't you finished those damned dishes? The place is getting jammed."
"Come on," Ernie said. "Let's go to work."
By eight, the rush was over. At nine, the place would be closed. Lorene had expected to leave right after eight, but she didn't. Ernie got stubborn. He wouldn't pay up. "I got to work until nine, you might as well work until nine, too," he told her. And his grin was nasty.
"Our agreement was eight," Lorene said.
"Then I'm changing it-walk out now and you'll get nothing. Wait until nine and I might pay you-Might!"
Lorene had stiffened. "I want my five dollars. I worked for it. I intend to get it."
"Well talk about that-at nine," Ernie said.
"Then I'll wait until nine," Lorene said, "If I don't get my money then, I'll do something. I don't know what, but I'll do something."
He grinned-and went back to work.
Christy Huggins spoke to her. "He's a mean one. I wouldn't stay if I was you."
"He owes me five dollars," Lorene said.
"Five dollars isn't worth the trouble it can give you."
"But it's my five dollars we're talking about. I worked for it. I'm going to get it."
"He'll pay you in there," Christy said, and he pointed to the storeroom.
"Why in there?"
"You won't get out, cause I can tell he's got frigging on his mind. Do I have to spell out what'll happen?"
She turned away, turned toward the side door, but then she stopped. What about her five dollars? Ernie owed her five dollars. She walked back to one of the tables, picked up one of the knives. The blade was thin, razor sharp.
"What you doin' with that knife?" Christy asked.
"I'm just thinking," Lorene said.
"You better leave that knife alone."
Her lips tightened. "Christy, I want my five dollars. I mean to get it."
"It ain't worth it," Christy said gruffly.
Lorene didn't answer. She fingered the knife-and remembered Jud Stebbins!
He had fucked her for a month. No, he had fucked her more than a month, and during that time he shoved his cock into her almost any time he wanted. He came to her bed almost every night after Emily went to sleep. Sometimes he stayed almost until dawn. He frigged her in the barn-sometimes in the morning, sometimes in the afternoons. And whenever Emily left to go to town or to a meeting, he really had a chance to hump her. He hurt her-and he loved to do that. He made her try new ways and positions of fucking, some of them horrible, revolting, unnatural. He did all sorts of perverted things to her cunt, tits and even her asshole, and sometimes, in spite of her own determination, she got worked up, fell a victim to her emotions, and wallowed in a bath of enjoyment.
She was two people-she was a slave, a captive, a cunt to be used-and she was a wanton, a hussy, a cunt who tasted the full sensuality of the flesh. Mostly though she was the slave. Mostly, she hated what happened. And finally one night she could take no more. Her breasts were bruised, swollen. That night, Jud had hurt her again, terribly and had laughed at her as his sperm dribbled from her asshole. He finally dozed.
There was a flat iron under her bed. She had put it there. She used it. One hard blow had crushed Jud's skull. He didn't even bleed very much.
"I think you better go," Christy said again. "It's gettin' along toward nine."
"I want my five dollars," Lorene said.
"No," Christy said. She shook her head. "No. Christy. If there's any....
She broke off, didn't finish her sentence. Up to now, during the past hour, Ernie had been shouting his orders over the serving shelf. This time, however, he came through the swinging doors and he said, "Everyone's gone, finally."
He stopped and mopped his face, glanced at Lorene then at Christy. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Ain't finished cleaning up," Christy said. "Forget it. Come in early tomorrow."
"Sure, boss. Sure," Christy said. And he started to get his coat.
He got his coat and hat and started for the side door.
Lorene spoke up. "When do I get my five dollars?"
"In just a minute," Ernie said, and he forgot about Christy, turned toward Lorene. "Want to show you something first-it's in the storeroom."
"I'm not interested in anything in the storeroom,"
"What the hell's the matter with you?"
"I just want my five dollars."
"Five dollars! Five dollars! Five dollars!" He was sneering the words. "All right-I'll bring you your five dollars. Got something else for you, too."
He started toward Lorene and he was grinning. His eyes had sharpened, too. He looked just like Jud Stebbins had looked when he came in from the fields after Aunt Emily had left. Hungry, and licking his lips-anticipating the fucking fun that was ahead. That was the look of a horny prick-pusher, closing in.
Lorene reached behind, to the table. She picked up the knife which was lying there, held it tightly held it out of sight.
"You and your damned five dollars," Ernie said. "You ain't worth it. There's place along the street where I can get a broad for free."
"I worked for the five dollars," Lorene said.
Ernie laughed. He reached into his pocket, took out a roll of bills, selected one and put the rest of the money away. He waved the bill he had saved in the air, and he said, "All right, here's your five dollars. I'm going to give that to you. And a little hot cock-for free!"
He was breathing fast, drooling at the mouth. He had probably been thinking of this all evening-thinking of getting her into the storeroom where he thrust his large cock into the warmth of her cunt. But she had been stubborn, unresponsive. She had balked him.
He was lunging at her now-two hundred pounds of weight, a good part of it muscle. She might have a chance to use her knife but she wasn't sure she could. Then, out of the corner of her eye she saw Christy Huggins. He had gone to get his coat and hat-he had started to leave-but he was still here. He had stopped, looked back. He had been listening to what had been said, he had been watching. And now he was taking a part in the action. He was driving this way, a meat cleaver in his hand.
"Scared of me, huh!" Ernie was crowing. "Scared of me! By damn you'd better be."
He reached out toward her and that was when the meat cleaver slicked into his head.
"You better get out of here," Christy said, "Just forget everything you saw."
She didn't move. She couldn't.
Christy stooped over her, dug into Ernie's pocket, found his roll of bills. Then he stood up, divided the money without counting it. "Half for you, half for me."
Lorene moistened her lips. "I just want my five dollars."
"Five dollars," Christy said. "Are you crazy?"
"Just five dollars," Lorene said.
Christy gave her five dollars. He put the rest of it in his pocket. "I can use every bit of this. I could use more. You better get going."
"Yes, I'd better go," Lorene said. But she didn't move, she didn't know where to go. She had no home-no room. All she owned in the world was what she was wearing, the money in her pocket, and a suitcase in a locker in the bus terminal.
Lorene turned and walked dazedly out of Ernie's Cafeteria forever.
CHAPTER THREE
Ty Grinnell's trim, well-built figure walked towards his office.
His dimpled smile flashed a greeting to two girls in passing, Carol Harper and Lesley Mills. Carol was a very pretty, feminine looking redhead, while Lesley was taller, rangy and sporting a mannish haircut and trousers. They were Lesbians, the pretty Carol was the "femme" and Lesley was the "butch."
At the corner, just standing there, was Margie King. Until last month she had been one of Lil Connor's stable of girls, but Lil had thrown her out for some reason or other. Since then she had been forced to do her own hustling. A floozie-and on the way down. But, she didn't have a bad shape.
He unlocked his office, went inside. While he had been at the door the telephone had been ringing, but it stopped before he reached it. Shrugging, he sat down at his desk. If the call had been important, whoever had tried to reach him would try again. For that matter, he might have missed a number of telephone calls while he had been fucking away at Ellie Cameron's. He really needed a secretary, someone to take his calls-but secretaries were expensive and nosey. Some of his deals were more than a little shady. If he handled everything himself he didn't have to worry about trusting a secretary. There was another consideration. He had a couch. With the proper partner, he could lock the door and have a frigging good time. On a number of occasions, he had. A secretary would have been in the way of his getting laid, unless he fucked the secretary of course.
He leaned back in his chair, put his feet on the desk, and took a few minutes to think of Ellie Cameron. God, what a wonderful piece of ass. She hadn't exactly dragged him to the bed, but she might have. And when she got into hump-action, she was all over the place. She loved to fuck. When you got someone like that, things were great. Beauty was all right, shape was important, the proper environment would help, but above everything else he would put a woman who really loved to fuck. Women like that were rare. Of course you could work a woman up, you could create a sense of passion. It was even fun to do that. But there was much more fun with someone like Ellie. She would dive in, head-first. She wanted all the hot cock you could give-and more. She had even suggested a party-and she meant an orgy. A wide-open frigging brawl. He had suggested Rudy's. That was strong medicine-to venture into Rudy's Rendezvous, but maybe Ellie could take that. In fact, she might fit in perfectly. You had to reach all the way down if you went to Rudy's.
The telephone started ringing again. He answered it-and heard Ellie's voice. "I just wanted to be sure you'd get to the office, safely."
"Sure I made it," Ty answered. And he laughed. "I'm a little worn out."
"When is Hugh going to Hollywood?"
"Next week."
"I'll set up our party."
"Don't forget. And don't forget tomorrow afternoon-get here by two."
"I'll be there," Ty answered.
There was a knock on the door, but before he could answer, the door opened and a woman came in. She was followed by a man. The man was short, stocky. Ty had never seen him when he wasn't scowling. He was scowling now, but he was hanging in the background, behind the woman. The man's name was Bert Kirchers. He was a rent collector. In addition he managed three of the buildings nearby. The woman's name was Connie Hall. She owned the three buildings, and she was worth special attention.
Tall, slender, willowy, and still young, still close to thirty. A beautiful woman even when she looked angry, and she looked angry now. Her skin had a dusky tinge, her eyes were a deep black, she had nicely shaped lips, a straight nose, short-cropped black hair, was wearing tailored tight pants and a snugly fitted blouse. Under the blouse she had two gorgeous knockers. Ty had felt them-but that was as far as he ever got with her.
She sliced her arm through the air. "I got your damned telephone call. Violations of the building code! Who's pushing me this time?"
"It's just one of those things," Ty said easily. "The same thing happened last year, and the year before."
She glared at him, then looked away. "All right, what's it going to cost to settle it. What's the pay-off?"
"Pay-off-I don't know what you mean."
The woman turned to the man behind her. She said, "Bert, wait for me outside or have a cup of coffee at Ernie's. If I talk to this robber alone, maybe I can get somewhere."
The man smirked. "Sure-I can use a cup of coffee."
He swung away, left the room, and after he had closed the door, Connie made a caustic comment.
"What's it going to cost to squash those complaints?"
"Five hundred-at least."
"Five hundred!" she shouted the words.
"It might even be more," Ty said.
She turned slowly to the window, looked through the heavy curtains. A tall, slender woman. Hard, independent. She seemed to know what she wanted in life. She wasn't easy to deal with, but she could have been quite delightful. A moment before it had been difficult for Ty to keep from staring at her tits. Now he had something else to look at-her behind. The way her tight pants emphasized her ass-cheeks made him itchy.
He moved toward her, came up behind her, slid his arm around her waist. He didn't cover her lush tits but his arms were just below them, could brush against them.
"I knew you'd do that," Connie said.
He drew his hands back, raised them to her shoulders, and twisted her around. Then he pulled her into his arms and she didn't fight him off. Sometimes she did. Sometimes she was like a tiger, didn't want him to touch her. On another occasion she would move into his arms and for a time he could do almost anything. Almost ... almost ... He never got her as far as fucking her on the couch. Someday he would.
He found her mouth, a sweet, warm mouth, and her lips were ready for his. He turned her slightly. This was to make it possible for him to feel one of her tits, and that had lost none of its charm. He could feel the thrust of an erect nipple, could feel that even through her brassiere and her blouse. Damn it, he wanted to get there. He did, but there must have been a strain against the material.
"I'll go out and buy one," Ty said. "I'll buy you a dozen."
"Hu-uh. I like this one. Don't tear it. It has buttons."
He didn't need any more invitation than that. He found the buttons, got past them and past her brassiere, pulled it up. Her breasts were golden brown, the nipples erect and hard. It wasn't enough to feel them. He got his head down, tried the nipples with his mouth. Connie laughed at him, then pushed his head away.
"Hey, what's the matter," he growled at her. "I haven't even started."
She laughed again. "I've started getting hot-but I'm going to stop."
"Why!"
"This isn't the place. I don't like to screw in offices."
"I've got an apartment-only a block away."
"Hey, what are you doing?"
It was too clear what she was doing. With a practiced skill she tucked her appetizing tits into their lacy cups, then started buttoning her blouse.
He stepped toward her. "Connie...."
"Next time, maybe. I'll admit I was tempted to sample your cock!"
He took a slow, steadying breath. She had done a good job of cock-teasing him, but some women were like that. They would let you go almost all the way, then they would freeze up, pull away.
She frowned suddenly. "I just wonder ... what are you doing Saturday night?"
He didn't even think. "Nothing important."
"Like to go to a party in the Village?"
"If you're going to be there."
"It's my party. You'll have to bring a woman with you-one who can take plenty."
It occurred to him that Ellie Cameron would be just perfect for an all-out hump shindig.
"You bring a woman, but she goes into the pot," Connie said. "I can't promise who your cock will come out with."
"How about you?"
"I'll be around. You might be lucky. Who knows?"
He pulled her into his arms again-and he really kissed her. She liked that, too. He could sense her reaction, a reawakening of her emotion. She stopped him after a time, stood away, and took a long breath.
"Almost too much of you, Ty. The couch is still tempting."
"I can still lock the door."
"Next time."
"I'll remember that."
"And don't forget Saturday night-at my place-about ten."
"I'll be there."
Ty sat again. In one way he was rather satisfied with respect to Connie Hall. He hadn't made her yet-but he would. He was sure of that. He might even manage to get into her cunt on Saturday night, during the party. Actually, of course, what happened at a party didn't count. In the action of a general hump-brawl, people got so mixed up the scoring was unimportant. What he wanted with Connie was an afternoon alone-or a full evening-no interruptions. She was set up like Ellie a woman made for fucking. But she would be entirely different. That was what made life so damned good-the variety you could find.
It was dark when he left.
He spoke to a dozen people as he headed up the street.
A tall, thin, olive-skinned man was just leaving the drug store. His name was Rudy Estrada. He was an herb doctor. He even had a basement shop where people consulted him.
Ty walked toward him. "Hey, Rudy...."
The man stopped. "Ah, it is Senor Grinnell."
"How are things going?"
"Like everyone else, I could complain. But I keep busy."
"I have a friend from uptown. She would like to see something of our-customs."
"Ah-we shall see. When would she like to ... to explore our customs?"
"Next week ... early in the week."
"Assuredly, Senor," the man nodded. "We will talk again."
He walked on rather briskly. He thought, Maybe I should warn Ellie to be careful, But he knew he wouldn't.
He piled his dishes in the sink, then he heard a knock on the door.
The woman waiting in the hall was tall, slender and shapely. She was wearing a white nylon uniform and at first he didn't even remember her, when she spoke. "Maybe I shouldn't have come, I'm Lorene Tucker."
"The new waitress!" He recognized her now.
"Christy Huggins told me where you lived," she mentioned. "He's the cook."
"Yes, I know Christy," Ty nodded. "Something wrong?"
"If you don't want to be bothered. That is...."
"Come on in, Lorene." He motioned with his arm. "Like a drink?"
"No."
"Ernie's dead."
"How did it happen?"
She looked up at him. "I know how it happened. I know exactly how it happened but I can't tell anyone. "Someone killed him."
"Yes."
"It wasn't you."
"No."
"Where did it happen?"
"In the kitchen."
"Did Christy see what happened?"
"I don't know."
Ty whistled under his breath. This girl was talking about murder.
"Does anyone know about this yet?"
The girl shook her head. "I don't think so."
He scowled at her. "Why can't you go to the police?"
"I just can't."
He shook his head. "That's no excuse-that you can't. Have you run away from someone?"
"In a way."
"What way? Did you run away from a husband?"
"No I don't have any husband-and only one relative-an aunt. But I still can't talk to the police."
"What do you want to do?"
"Hide."
"If you do, if you disappear, the police will scour the town for you. They might even think you are guilty."
"But I'm not, Mr. Grinnell. I'm not the one who killed him."
He could turn the girl over to the police, right now, but that would squeeze him out of the picture.
Or he could hide the girl for a time, then let one of the newspapers find her. If this case built up the way it should, one of the newspapers might shell out quite a chunk of money for her story.
Here was another thing to think about. This girl was afraid of something. If he could find out what it was, he might be able to cash in on that.
And another angle-Lorene was a damned attractive piece of ass. She might be a lot of fun. Right now, of course, she was all worked up over what she had gone through, but a few hours might calm her down.
"Do you have a room somewhere?"
"No. I just got to town this morning. I have a suitcase at the bus station."
"How did you get down here?"
"I looked at the ads in the newspaper, found where a waitress was needed, tried to get there but got lost. There was a sign in Ernie's window. I went in and he hired me. I wish I have never seen his sign. I shouldn't have come here."
"But you should." He motioned vaguely. "I don't know where I'll put you yet, but I'll do something. And you ought to rest. I'm going to insist on that. And I'm going to insist on another thing-a drink."
A frown gathered on her face. "I really don't think I need it. I mean...."
"It's going to relax you," Ty said. "And if I'm any judge, you need it badly."
He hurried to the kitchen, fixed a drink for the girl. This is what HI do, he told himself. I'll get Lorene to the point of telling her whole story-then I'll put her to bed. She'll be a little dopey, then, but who cares about that?
He laughed to himself, picked up the two drinks, and went back to the parlor. She hadn't budged from her chair, was as tense as he had thought, but that wasn't strange. It was a shocking thing to see someone killed.
Her hands were shaking as she lifted the glass to her lips. She took a sip, and then another.
She took another sip, and another, and he could almost see her tensions fading away. Her shoulders sagged a little. She managed a smile. "I never thought I'd like whiskey."
"This is just a light touch," Ty said. "You might need another to completely relax."
"But I shouldn't do that, really. I ought to leave, right now."
"I might be able to keep you here."
"Oh, no. That wouldn't be fair to you."
"Isn't that my problem?"
"I mean, the police will be hunting for me."
"They probably won't come here. Of course, you ought to talk to them. Why can't you?"
She frowned, bit her lips. "I just can't."
"You could tell me. What a client says to her attorney is within the borders of what we call privileged communication. I mean, it's sacred. No one else can make me talk about it. That's why you can tell me."
Lorene hesitated, shook her head. "I don't think I should."
Her words didn't come out clearly. She slurred them, took the rest of the drink and suddenly giggled.
"Hey, you've had enough," Ty said. "How much did you have to eat today?"
"No time feat."
"You mean you've had no dinner?"
"No time to ... no time...."
She stopped speaking, her arms sagged, her head dropped forward. She was deep in the chair and it was high-armed or she would have fallen. As quickly as that she had passed out.
Ty muttered angrily under his breath. He hadn't wanted the girl to pass out. He had given her a good slug of whiskey, but he had expected the whiskey to loosen her tongue. It might have done so, too, if he hadn't given her too much.
He reached out to touch her shoulder. "Hey, wake up!"
She didn't answer, she probably couldn't.
The smart thing to do, of course, was to call the cops. But a man never got a break from the cops. If he called them in, told them her story, they'd probably start grilling him, try to tie him into the case. At any rate they would give him no credit for calling them.
He made sure the door was locked, turned out most of the lights, then picked up Lorene and carried her into the bedroom, dumped her on the bed. Now he was grinning. No matter what else might happen, he would fuck her, for a time. At least, that was worth while. The evening wasn't a total loss. In fact, it might prove to be damned interesting.
He took off her clothes. She wasn't wearing much. It didn't take long to strip her-and she didn't even try to make any protest. She was soundly asleep. He could turn her attractive body any way-she didn't mind. She didn't know what was happening.
Ty undressed himself, then he stood staring at Lorene Tucker. Lying nude, she seemed slimmer than he had expected. Her legs were quite long, her ass didn't bulge out as much as he liked, her chest wasn't high. Her breasts were fairly good, well filled, and the nipples were no mere bumps. They seemed fully developed. He reached out and touched them, and said, "Hell, someone's been there ahead of me-but so what?"
He turned out the ceiling light, leaving only the bedstand lamp lit, then he sprawled out beside her, tried to forget she was asleep. He buffed his hand over her breasts, her nipples. They hardened just as he expected. He laughed softly, nodded. Lorene was still sleeping, but not her body. In just a little time he would wake her up completely, in a very special way....
He smoothed his hand across her tits again. She didn't move, didn't seem aware of what was happening-but then he was just starting. A few more minutes, and he would reach her. He kept his hand where it was, raised his head to her breasts, started kissing them, one then the other, he mauled them with his face, he was even a little rough, but he got no reaction at all from the girl.
A little while later he raised his head, scowled at her, then he spoke to her, "Lorene ... Lorene...."
No answer.
In a sudden flush of anger he slapped her face, then again, and again. Each time he did her head rolled with the blow. She moaned, and said something but her words were too thick to be understood.
He could shove his prick into her cunt, but she wouldn't feel anything, wouldn't respond. She was nothing but a lump of flesh.
His hump-desire was abruptly gone. He got up, spit out a few bits of choice profanity, then went to the kitchen and had a drink. He had another, then another.
With this third drink he returned to the bedroom, stood for a moment looking at Lorene's body. There wasn't much to look at. She couldn't have been compared to Ellie Cameron. He knew she would not compare favorably to Connie. He could easily have named a dozen women whose ass and tits were better. What had been attractive in Lorene had been a sense of freshness, and electric vividness, an untamed charm. Those qualities were living qualities, a part of her conscious awareness. They didn't repose in her sleeping body. It would be nothing to fuck her while she was in a condition like this. He wanted her awake. He wanted to feel her reactions, to enjoy her pussy.
He finished his third drink, put the glass aside, then stretched out on the bed again. He would wait a few hours, he had decided.
Even as he was thinking, he fell asleep....
Connie Hall was thirty-two, a brittle thirty-two, a hard thirty-two, and she knew she sometimes showed it.
She felt she was lucky in three ways. First, her father had left her well off-financially. Second, she was personally attractive. Third, she had made a good marriage. At least it had held up seven years. There had been some rocky periods. Sometimes, she and Dale fought like hell. But they always made up. Why Dale would return to her she would never know. Why she loved Dale was easy to explain. It was his trumpet. That might seem crazy and impossible, but whenever Dale cut loose with his trumpet she would almost fall to pieces. He could really send her.
That was what held her steady. His trumpet, and the way it moved her. You wouldn't think of jazz as something stabilizing, yet in her case it was. Dale Hall wasn't excessively attractive. He could be hard to a woman, unpleasant, cruel. He had never been faithful and never would. But they stayed together, and if their marriage was a patchwork affair and had some seedy sides, it still stood up.
This was part of her background, the framework in which she lived. A woman of thirty-two but very attractive, moderately wealthy, and married. She kept busy painting, looking after her apartment, and now and then she ran into other interests-among them, men. Possibly, she invited them. At least, the way she walked and the way she dressed caught attention. She had a nice body and she didn't hide it.
After she left Ty Grinnell's she had spent half an hour with Bert Kirchers. He was a good building manager, a good rent collector. He was married to a fat, comfortable looking woman, but now and then he got ideas about Connie. He never got very far with her-he never would.
She got rid of him, then she sat at a table in a luncheonette, had a cup of coffee, and wondered why she was sitting here, why she hadn't let Ty go ahead and fuck her.
If she hit the couch with Ty and had gone through a real hump-session, she'd feel fine. Now, she wished she had. He was one of the few men she knew who could get her pussy really worked up-and in almost nothing flat. He had done that this afternoon, in his office, got her cunt all excited. She had been awfully close to agreeing to the screw he wanted. Some perverse impulse had stepped in the way. Someday, of course, she would fuck with him. That was almost inevitable. But it should have been today. She had needed some hot cock. She still needed some hot cock.
She sat at her table in the luncheonette, sipping her coffee, smiling faintly. There were a few others in the restaurant, mostly men.
But not one of the men came to her table.
When she finished her coffee she left the restaurant, glanced around for a taxi but didn't see one. It occurred to her that she might have a better chance at the next corner, and she started that way. Then she stopped, frowned, and took a deep breath. A new thought had crossed her mind. Rudy! Rudy Estrada! It was only a few steps to his shop. She could drop in and see him. If she did it might be morning before she got home, but what of it? Dale was playing around with someone else right now. He might not appear himself until morning.
But something made her hesitate.
Rudy wasn't widely known in New York. Not many people were. But within a certain circle, people were learning about him-and his cellar. Rud's Rendezvous! It wasn't a place where you could just go. It wasn't a place where you could get in by saying that "Joe" sent you. If you had all the money in the world you couldn't buy a way in. You had to be invited-or someone had to take you. If you happened to know Rudy, then you were a special guest. Even then, it was an expensive thing to go there. It cost like hell. Connie was Scotch about money. She didn't like to spend it. But there was another point to think about. You got something rare at Rudy's. You got that easily-nicely. Most likely, that was worth every damned cent.
She walked on, but now in the direction of Rudy's. She was already smiling, already excited by a growing anticipation. She came to his shop. It wasn't very noticeable. There was no lettering on his two front windows. Over his door was an unobtrusive sign, "Sr. Rudy Estrada, Health Foods." She took five steps down to his door, opened it, stepped into a small reception room or parlor. There was a nice smell in the air. It was like perfume. Not overdone, not too powerful, not sickeningly sweet. Pleasant was the word for it-and that suited the room. It was not glaringly bright nor were the comers shadowed. A small carpeted room, nicely furnished, three of the walls draped, the other paneled.
One of the drapes moved, and Rudy entered the room. Tall, slender, suave. He looked no older than when Connie had met him, years ago. His skin had an olive tinge, his eyes were black and so was his hair. His smile couldn't have been better. "Ah, Connie. It is good to see you againg."
She put out her hand. "Hello, Ruby."
"Should I say we have missed you?"
"Of course."
"Then put that in your book-we miss you. Things are not the same with you away. But you look tired."
"I am."
"Possibly a cup of tea?"
"Several cups, Rudy. A full course of treatment-but I must be home by midnight."
The man nodded. "Midnight. That can be done-for a friend."
"It will cost ... "
"We will speak of that later."
"You are too clever," Connie said, frowning. "If you told me the cost, right now, I'd walk out."
"Did I not say we were friends?"
"When money is concerned, friendship doesn't count. I've learned that too well."
He shook his head. "You have grown hard. That is not good. Connie. Come with me."
He turned toward the rear, pulled away the drapes which had covered a door. This led into a long corridor. It was dimly lighted and on either side were doors. These were doors to small rooms. At the end of the corridor was a much larger room where a dozen couples could have been entertained. Weird happenings went on in that larger room, on occasion, but Connie wasn't thinking of that.
Rudy stopped at one of the side doors. He opened it, clicked a light switch, then stepped aside. "I think this will do," he said quietly, "Nikko will be here in a moment."
"Nikko?"
"She is Japanese, fragile as a child. But she is not a child. I think you will like her."
Connie bit her lips. "And then, later on...."
He touched her shoulder. "Do not worry. I believe I know what is necessary."
"You will remember that I must leave by midnight."
"I will remember."
She stepped forward, into the small room, and from the corridor Rudy closed the door. It was a very small room. The lights were low. To one side was a wide, low bed, near it was a stand. Against the back wall was a vanity. There were no chairs. Like the parlor, the walls were velvet draped a deep purple.
Connie sat down on the edge of the bed, then she stretched out on it and she thought, Here I am-again. Last time I came here this saved my life, steadied me, pulled me back from going crazy-but why did I come here today?
That was an annoying question. The only other time she had come here had been after a bitter, break-up fight with Dale. She had been ready to go to pieces. If she hadn't come here she might have done something reckless. In a way she could justify her first trip here. But why was she here tonight? What was her excuse this time? A little while ago Ty Grinnell had aroused her horny sensual nature-but that had happened on other occasions, and she hadn't run to Rudy's.
"Maybe I'm just getting unglued," she said, half under her breath. "I don't need this. I need a good kick in the ass."
She laughed at herself, was still smiling when Nikko came in, bringing her tea.
Nikko was very small, as Rudy had warned. She might have been five feet tall, she might have weighed eighty-five pounds. There was a flower-like quality to her beauty, her cheeks pink, her eyes blue shadowed. Her voice was low, gentle. "I am Nikko. You will have your tea now?"
"Yes now," Connie said.
It would be tea, of course, but it would be a special kind of tea, sweet and bitter, laced with a rare sex-stimulant, and tinged with a jolt of some pep drug. It might even contain a few drops of LSD. Rudy's teas were quite remarkable in their effect.
She sampled it as soon as it was poured-took another sip and then another. A warm tea but not hot, and as she had anticipated, sweet but bitter. She couldn't guess, by taste, what was in it, but she would know after a time, or at least she would know some of the qualities. Her body would tell her.
She finished her drink, but Nikko poured another cup, and stood waiting. She finished the second, then stretched out on the bed, and it was amazing how relaxed she felt, almost at once. The hard knots inside seemed to have vanished. Every tension was gone. She realized, vaguely, that Nikko was undressing her, but she had expected that. She closed her eyes. She rolled one way or the other as Nikko pushed her, then lying on her stomach, nude, she could feel the Japanese girl rubbing her back, kneading it, smoothing out her muscles, rubbing in a scented oil. The girl's hands seemed gentle but firm, kind of strong.
After a time the Japanese girl rolled her over on her back, and began stroking her tits. Connie smiled, and closed her eyes. She gave herself over to the pure sensation of enjoyment. Her body loved this, Nikko's smooth hands roving everywhere, around and around in a slow, sweeping movement, then over and around the slopes of her breasts. A new excitement hit her as Nikko worked the body oil into the skin of her titties. Her nipples hardened, strained to lift themselves higher. She began to move from side to side-she couldn't help it. Somewhere, a fire had started.
Nikko's hands were still on her breasts-or were those Nikko's hands? They had been very gentle. They were still gentle but they seemed much larger, more commanding. Another strange thing Nikko had been wearing a robe but that seemed to have disappeared, and her body seemed to have grown. Now, as she moved closer, close against her, she seemed to have become man-size.
She laughed at herself, at what had happened. There was no mystery to this at all. Nikko had started things, massaging her body, soothing her into a period of quiescence, but then after she had been rolled over on her back, at some point in the process Nikko had backed away and someone else had taken her place. And that was perfect-that was what she wanted-that was why she had come here.
She spoke slowly. "Hello?"
His voice was lower than Nikko's. "Hello, yourself."
"What do I call you?"
"Lars."
"I'm Connie."
"Yes. I know."
"Do I know you?"
"No."
"Should I open my eyes?"
"You can if you wish."
She shook her head, "I feel very floaty, very lazy. It would be an effort to open my eyes. Besides, if I saw you and didn't like you-that would spoil everything."
"Then keep your eyes closed."
"I think I will."
She laughed again. What she had said a moment ago had been very true. She felt floaty. She felt lazy. That was the result of Rudy's tea. She was completely relaxed. She could think as clearly as ever but her mental processes had been slowed down. It was crazy, possibly, not to look at the man who was about to help her, but she felt very good about him, right now. She could idealize him completely-as long as she didn't see him. And it was easy to keep her eyes shut. In fact, she wanted to keep her eyes shut. In the blackness of her imagination she was beginning to see some of the most beautiful colors-a wild riot of colors everywhere.
"I'm going to kiss you," the man said.
"You had better," Connie said. "You had better, before it's too late."
He must have grinned. "That's why I'm here."
He started kissing her, and that was weird, crazy, out of the world, but right through his kissing was a wonderful sunburst of color. She seemed to be caught in a sea of it, streaking colors, exploding colors. The world filled with colors, and against them a man was kissing her, her mouth, her cheeks, her throat, her tits. His hot mouth and tongue were working their way to her cuntlips ... She had been ready for him, minutes ago, ready for this love with color ... She realized, vaguely, that it was the LSD in the tea which had given her the sense of colors-but who cared about that.
A storm was building for her, a storm of color, each emotion a different shade swirling in with the others, mixing up a patchwork painting. She was building the picture, she and a man named Lars. He was vivid, startling-and she was the canvas.
There were all the colors fo the rainbow....
The canvas could be stretched on, and on, and on....
A masterpiece was being created....
She seemed to feel his huge cock penetrating her pussy. Now he was in to the hilt and fucking her with powerful thrusts of his prick....
Don't hurry this-Never-Take all the time in the world Finally, of course, the picture was done. He "came" and she felt a huge quantity of his warm, pleasant sperm shooting into her cunt. She could look back at it. A wonderful picture-one which had been drawn from the resources of her own body. A man had fucked her. Someone named Lars.
She lay on the bed quietly, still remembering the picture. All the colors. The midnight black, the shading purples, the startling blues, the greens, the yellows, the orange, the heavy red fading into a pink. The most glorious colors she could think of, radiant colors, living colors.
Then there was another picture to paint. A man sank down onto the bed beside her, spoke to her. "Hello, Connie."
It wasn't Lars. His voice was deeper, resonant. But she didn't open her eyes to look at him. She didn't want to miss any of the colors she was seeing. She asked, "Who are you?"
"Van."
"Am I going to like you?"
"I think so. We'll see."
His body was warm. His hand was gentle, comforting. His kiss was strong. He stirred the colors and she was watching but for a while she just lay there and let him work. He was babying her, plying her with kisses, her face, her shoulders, her breasts. Then, just as before, the new picture came to life, its colors streaking out in all directions. She felt Van's cock in her cunt.
By this time her twat had started moving. She clenched the man to her, fitted the tempo of her frigging movements to his. The colors now in her mind were all mixed up, flashing in blues, in reds, in greens and in yellow. Warm, glowing colors. She could see nothing else. She was in a pool of color-she and this man who was fucking her. What was his name-Van? She wondered if he could see the colors, too. At least, he was doing very good as a prick-pusher, and he wasn't hurrying her. Of course he wasn't. The painting of a masterpiece took time.
The picture was finally done-and Van had shot his load of sperm into her pussy and left but she held the colors in her mind. LSD colors a dream-but it seemed vivid, real. The dream seemed to have become a part of her. The strange tea Rudy Estrada had prepared for her hadn't disassociated her from the person she was. Her thoughts and her memory hadn't been blocked off. She knew who she was, where she was, and that at midnight she had to go home. But until then....
Again there was a figure on the bed beside her-a man's figure. He was warm, his hands would be gen tie and he would know just what to do. A new man she was sure. Not Lars, not Van....
His voice was gruff, "Hello, Connie,"
She smiled, but didn't open her eyes. "Who are you?"
"Dick."
"Can you see the colors?"
"Yes, I can see them."
"I don't believe it," Connie said. "But I can see them. They have grown very quiet. I want them stirred up."
"I'll stir them up," Dick said, and his hand settled on her breasts. "I'll stir them up, plenty."
He was a little more rough as he fucked her than Lars or Van, but perhaps it was time for that.
She lay where she was, watching the colors come to life, waiting until her cunt was caught in the rhythm of a new picture.
She had no idea how late it was ... his cock was screwing her willing cunt so thrillingly....
She hoped that midnight was hours and hours away....
Lorene Tucker slept on, but at the thin edge of consciousness. Her nerves were too tight to give way to a deep and absorbing sleep. They prodded her now, knifed through the alcoholic haze which had numbed her mind, shook her insistently, invaded her dreams. She remembered, or she seemed to remember a clock in her parent's home-long, long ago. It had chimed the hours. She could hear the sounds now, drumming at her ears.
She stirred restlessly, opened her eyes, stared vaguely at the ceiling. She thought she had heard a clock striking the hours but she wasn't sure of it now. Actually the bell tower from the church around the corner had aroused her.
But she didn't know about the church and at first she couldn't guess where she was. At first, she dozed-and remembered. She didn't want to remember. She wanted to push Jud and Aunt Emily into the past-but they wouldn't stay there.
Of course Jud was dead. He had died in her bed, his head dented from the edge of the flat-iron she had used-and Emily was just down the hall-asleep.
Suppose you were a guest in someone's home. Suppose you were a girl, nineteen, and your host was found in your bed with his head smashed in. How could you explain a thing like that? You could tell the truth-at least you could try, but if you said your host had raped you and fucked you again and again, the judge would have said, Why, again and again? Didn't you enjoy getting fucked at first? Didn't you entice him to your bed? Didn't you kill him out of anger-because he wouldn't get rid of his wife?
So what did you do with your host after you killed him?
How could you protect yourself?
That morning-the next morning, Lorene left Jud under her bed, an old sheet around his head. She didn't go back to bed again. When it was dawn, she went to the kitchen, started the fire, started breakfast. She was supposed to do that anyhow.
At eight, Aunt Emily showed up. She wasn't yet dressed. She was wearing a bathrobe, and she couldn't have looked around her bedroom very carefully, for Jud's clothes were still in sight.
"I suppose Jud's outside, working," she said casually.
"Yes," Lorene answered.
"Did he say what he was going to do this morning?"
"No."
"Strange, but I didn't hear him leave."
"He left early."
Emily frowned. "The coffee's too strong. It's bitter. I wish you would learn to make coffee."
"Yes, ma'am," Lorene said.
"You can straighten up my room."
Lorene turned, left the kitchen, hurried to the bedroom. That gave her a chance to pick up Jud's clothing. And later, when Aunt Emily went down to the creek to look for Jud, she had the chance to get rid of his body.
What do you do with a dead body-a heavy body-with time pressing on you? Lorene could think of only one possibility. The well. It was supposed to be deep. She boosted him into it, head first. There was a hollow splash when he hit the water.
That afternoon, Aunt Emily worried about what had happened to Jud, but she wasn't so worried she couldn't take a nap.
Then, while she was napping, Lorene left, fled to the highway, hitched a ride. The man who picked her up was driving a truck. He was about forty and he seemed very nice but it had been a mistake to take a ride with him. His name was Wayne Boland.
He was her second shadow.
She shook her head, shook it again. She told herself that Wayne Boland was a bad dream-a nightmare. She pushed him out of her mind, looked up at the ceiling again. She was in a room somewhere-on a bed. And someone was on the bed with her. He had suddenly started snoring.
He was entirely nude!
And he was a stranger!
Or was he? His face looked vaguely familiar. A thin, narrow face the lower part of it darkened by the stubble of a beard. He had a thin body, a flat stomach....
She was on this bed with him, as nude as he was. Her breasts were a little tender-as though she had been fucked. But just a little. He might have screwed her, but she doubted it. At least if he had she didn't remember anything about that. She had come here to see him because....
With a sudden burst or realization she remembered Ernie Snyder. Fat, slobbery, his eyes mean and hard. A man who seemed to have six arms and six hands. He wouldn't let her alone. Back there in the kitchen he had started after her-but the back of his head had split open. She could remember Ernie's lunge-could remember the slashing meat cleaver-the splashing blood. She could remember Christy Huggins standing above Ernie. His face had been ugly, bitter. He had saved her, but that wasn't the reason Ernie was dead. Christy had hated the man-she was sure of that. He had killed Ernie, had taken the money-and had fled. She was innocent of Ernie's death. She wasn't running away from him. She was running from the past-from Jud Stebbins and from Wayne Boland, who had died in his truck. She couldn't face a police investigation.
That was why she had come to see Mr. Grinned. He had said he was an attorney. He had offered to help her if she got in trouble. She went to see him, but what had happened then?
A drink-and then this bed! Men, she thought. Men! I hate their cocks! She sat up-and was sorry she had. Her head was throbbing from a hundred hammers pounding at her skull. She was sick. Horribly sick. She wasn't sure she could make it but she had to-had to get to the bathroom or she would have heaved all over the bed. In some way or other, she managed it-got up, found the bathroom.
During the next twenty minutes she tried to heave out her stomach. She did fairly well. But none of this made her feel any better. She was shaky when she walked back to the bedroom. She wanted to collapse right there-on the bed. She could have done that very easify-but she wouldn't. She knew the cost of such a thing. The man would wake up-and he would start at her cunt with his prick ... She could be sick, she could cry, she could fight-but none of those things would help. Tonight, the most gentle man in the world wouldn't have been satisfactory.
Mr. Grinnell was still sleeping.
She let him sleep. She found her clothes, started putting them on, but stopped at her nylon uniform. It was white. It was too noticeable in the darkness. Trousers would be better-or even a light coat. She found a light coat in the closet, tried it on. It was too big, of course, but it would do. She slipped it on, headed for the door.
The time was twelve-forty.
She was carrying her purse when she left Ty Grinnell's apartment. It held no identification, but it did contain a key to a locker at the bus station, where she had left a suitcase. And it held two five dollar bills, and about three dollars in change. The change was from tips. The two five dollar bills came from Ernie.
Ernie Snyder, deceased-his head split open by a cleaver.
Right now, possibly, or at least by morning, the police would have found Ernie's body. They would want to question Christy Huggins. They might be sure he was guilty. He was a Negro which was one strike against him. Ernie had been killed by a cleaver and Christy was his cook-strike two. Christy had fled-strike three and you're out. But if the police didn't get Christy right away, they would look for the waitress Ernie had hired. They would be after her. Somewhere she had to hide.
It was hard to think clearly. It was hard to think at all. Those hammers in her head were still pounding. Her stomach was still churning. Her legs were not steady. It was hard to walk a straight line down the sidewalk. But she had to. It might have been late but the night was still warm, and here and there, people were sitting outside. People who might notice her.
A man stepped out of the shadows, joined her, took her arm. His voice was very pleasant. "Is it possible that I can help you, Senorita?"
She pulled away. "No. I am all right."
"I thought...."
"No!" She snapped the word at him.
The man's voice was still pleasant, cultured. "Ah, you do not know me. Permit me to present myself. I am Senor Rudy Estrada, health foods and diet adviser. This is my shop."
The streets were rocking. She wasn't sure how long she could stand-but she wanted nothing more to do with pleasant appearing men. Jud had been most pleasant. Wayne Boland had seemed quite friendly. Mr. Grinnell, who she had just left had seemed very trustworthy-but it was a nice question which had been most evil, most ugly.
"Ah, this is what I should have done," Rudy said. "Let me call my daughter. If you are in trouble...."
"I ... I just want a room," Lorene said. "If I could."
Rudy raised his voice. "Nikko ... Nikko ... will you come here for a moment?"
A girl appeared from the shadows, walked toward them. She was very small, was wearing a Japanese robe. He seemed oriental, too, and that seemed strange. Rudy Estrada was not a Japanese name. Nor had Rudy sounded like a Japanese.
"Hello, Miss," Nikko said. "You are in trouble?"
She had a delightful accent. She seemed very sweet. And she wasn't a man. That was wonderful.
"I was looking for a room," Lorene said. "I ... that is...."
"You will come with me," Nikko said. "It is a far distance to a hotel which can be trusted. In the morning we will find one."
"In the morning...."
"Yes."
"I can stay here?"
"Yes. We would like you to stay."
"I can pay...."
"We will talk about that in the morning."
Lorene looked around. Rudy seemed to have disappeared in the darkness. At least he was nowhere in sight. She stared down the street. There must have been a hotel not far away, but she couldn't see any lighted signs which said so. And she was getting tired ... terribly tired. If she could just lie down for a time....
"You will come with me," Nikko said. "There is nothing to worry about. I will take care of you."
It was only five steps down to the door level.
It was only two steps to the door.
Nikko helped her.
Rudy Estrada smiled expectantly as Nikko joined him as he squatted on an Oriental rug in the rear of the shop. They sat near a low table where a brazier of perfumed incense was burning before a large brass Buddha.
"What does the merchandise look like, Nikko?"
"She is young, fair and completely unblemished," Nikko replied with a faraway look in her dark eyes. "She has skin as white as the first winter snow. Her titties have the curved, thrusting perfection of Mount Fuji and the nipples are like red, ripe cherries. Her thighs are full and womanly, with buttock cheeks of the most exquisite roundness." Nikko took a deep breath and continued.
"She has a hidden navel, most exciting, and she is a dark, natural blonde."
"Did you fuck her?" Rudy leered.
"No," Nikko replied looking him straight in the eye, "I did not sample the fruit, ripe and tempting though it is. She is in a state of exhaustion and turmoil now. Later when she is rested and relaxed, that will be another story. And I insist on first cunt-rights!"
"We shall see," Rudy said as he watched the blue curls of incense rise in front of the brass Buddha.
CHAPTER FOUR
Nude and flat on his back in his bed, Ty's body felt leaden the next morning. He kept his eyes closed and slowly tried to think through the fog of blanketing hangover. He remembered that a girl, an attractive one had been in the bed with him ... should be sleeping beside him now.
He was glad he had company, and keeping his eyes closed he planned every move he'd make next, step by step. When he opened his eyes, he'd roll over and screw her sleeping body quickly. The very thought of this had already aroused his big prick to a lusting throb.
Ty liked the idea of gently parting her shapely thighs and the surprised look on the girl's face as she awakened to his first full thrust into her cunt. Then as she realized what was happening, her tits and cunt would begin to strain against him in a responsive grind. He would cup her asscheeks as she undulated beneath his prick's pile-driver. Then he would jackknife into a convulsive orgasm as he shot his load of hot scum into her cunt. And that would make her wriggling pussy "come" with him, her ass threshing happily.
That's the ticket, he thought, just what he needed to clear his mind.
He pried his eyes open, looked around, but couldn't see her. He moved enough to peer over the edge of the bed. The woman he was looking for hadn't fallen to the floor. He squinted from side to side but couldn't see her anywhere. He couldn't hear her in the bathroom. He couldn't hear her in the kitchen. Hell-she seemed to be gone-but who was she? Who was she. Sometimes it amazed him to see the cunt that was in bed with him in the morning. Once there had been a skinny girl who hadn't been fifteen, but she had known what fucking was all about. Once it had been Margie King whose ordinary charge for either a blow-job or a hump was four-bits. Once there had been a black amazon, so big she had terrified him. She had kept him busy fucking her all morning. He thought her prick-hunger would never be satisfied. What had happened to her he didn't know. He wished he did. She had been quite an unusual piece of hump!
But who was it who had been in his bed last night?
And what had happened to her during the night?
It came to him slowly who she had been. A waitress-a blonde waitress-young and slender and as fresh as spring. She had worked for Ernie Snyder and had come here with some crazy story.
No, that wasn't it at all.
She had come here with a story of murder-Murder-MURDER!
He sat up abruptly, and now that his mind had been jarred awake, he could remember the entire evening. Lorene Tucker was the girl's name. She said she had seen Ernie killed. She wasn't guilty. She hadn't admitted who was responsible, but it was rather clear that Christy Huggins had done the job. To steady her, he had given her a shot of whiskey, but the whiskey had knocked her out. It had knocked her cold. Even after he had stripped her and started fooling around with her cunt and clitoris he hadn't been able to arouse her. Eventually he had gone to sleep-but then what?
He could guess the rest. She woke up some time during the night, got up, dressed, and left the house. Where she was now would be hard to guess. This was a big city. She could have turned in almost any direction-and been lost. He had lost, too. He had been thinking of keeping her here, and of watching the development of the case. If it hit the front pages, if Christy Huggins disappeared and if she could become a mysterious figure-why then he had something to sell. He had sure messed things up-going to sleep. He hadn't been on the ball.
He got up, searched the room-and then the rest of the apartment. He found the girl's uniform and his eyes narrowed thoughtfully when he was able to detect a few faded spots which might have been blood. It hit him that this uniform might be of value. But what was it doing here? If she had left here without her uniform, what had she been wearing?
It took him an hour to realize that Lorene had stolen one of his top coats.
There was a crowd in front of Ernie's restaurant when he got to his office. There was nothing in the newspapers. At least not yet. But the story of what had happened in the restaurant was wild enough to build up a lot of excitement.
Ernie was dead-murdered!
His head had been split open by a meat cleaver, blood had been splattered all over the kitchen.
He had been robbed, the big roll of bills he always carried had been stolen.
Christy Huggins, his cook, was missing. And a blonde waitress was missing. Either might have killed him-or anyone else might have. Ernie Snyder had never been well-liked. He had too many enemies.
Ty hadn't been in his office ten minutes before there was a knock on the door, and a man came in. The man was a police detective, Tom Riley. He was short, stocky, and about fifty. He had steady gray eyes, a scowling face, and he was almost bald. His cheeks were ruddy and he breathed hard-as though he had been running. He hadn't. He never ran.
He stared at Ty, nodded. "Hi, there. What do you know about the trouble across the street?"
"Nothing," Ty answered. "I wasn't there."
"What did you think of Ernie Snyder?"
"How do I know? He ran a restaurant-made rotten coffee."
"Wasn't very popular, was he?"
"How should I know?"
"Live around here, don't you?"
"Sure."
"Who do you think knocked him off?"
"How should I know?"
The detective smoothed his hand over his head. "We're not getting anywhere, are we."
"Maybe there's nowhere to go," Ty answered.
"You knew the cook, didn't you? Christy Huggins?"
"Sure. I knew him."
"Think he killed Ernie?"
"He could have."
"There was a new waitress."
"Probably. Ernie had trouble getting help."
"Sure. Ernie liked women. Any kind-any shape-any color. He couldn't keep his hands off of them."
The detective grunted. "Ummm. Maybe we're getting somewhere. Maybe this new girl didn't like to be pestered."
"So she took a meat cleaver and cut Ernie's head open."
"She could have."
"Lots of women could."
"Ummm. Who was the waitress?"
"Lorene, something."
"Think you could dredge up the rest of her name?"
"I might."
"Think you could find out anything about her?"
"I might."
Tom Riley rubbed his hand over his head again. He spoke almost to himself. "We've got a couple lines on Christy Huggins. We'll probably pick him up-today, tomorrow or the next day. Most likely, he's the one who killed Ernie Snyder-but it could be we're wrong. I'd like to get my hands on that blonde waitress. We might need her to nail up the case against the cook."
"Maybe I can help," Ty said. "This is where I live. These are my people."
He was being very unctuous, and he knew it. He didn't like most of the people in the area, but he never said so. It wouldn't be wise.
"I've got to stir around-see what I can find," Ty said. "I want you to do some thinking about that blonde waitress. Before we finish this case, we might need her."
"Sure, I'll do what I can," Ty promised.
He sat at his desk after Riley left and he hated himself. He had had Lorene in his hands, last night-but he had lost her. He had gone to sleep, and she had walked out. She had been wearing his top coat, too. One that had cost sixty-five bucks. Last night had been a damned expensive evening and he didn't have anything to show for it.
He concentrated on Lorene. She must have been quite rocky when she left-and if it hadn't been too late, someone on the street might have seen her. He could ask a few questions. He might even find her. Hell, he knew a lot about the murder across the street. Somewhere in this situation, he ought to be able to pick up some money.
Lorene Tucker and the murder across the street were something extra. There ought to be some money in this situation if he could just find it.
And there ought to be something profitable from Ellie Cameron. Something more than fun. Rudy would squeeze something out of her. He could almost be sure of that. He would get his cut. But that wasn't enough. What he ought to do was take a long, careful look at her, and see what was there. He might be able to do that this afternoon.
He went outside, circulated through the crowd around Ernie's restaurant. The place was closed. A policeman stood in front of the door. Here and there were other policemen, here and there were small groups guessing about the murder. Ty noticed Babe Blaney. The man was scowling at the building in which Ernie had died.
Ty walked toward the man. He said, "Hi, Gabe. What do you think?"
"It was about time," Blaney growled.
"Didn't like him, huh?"
"Nope."
"Do you think Christy killed him?"
"It wasn't Christy. He wouldn't have hurt a fly."
"Then who could it have been?"
"The dame. The waitress. You know how Ernie was about women."
"But a meat cleaver...."
"A meat cleaver isn't heavy. A kid could have handled it. I'm bettin' on the dame-and I hope she gets away."
Ty frowned. He couldn't agree with Blaney, that Lorene was guilty, but she could have been guilty. At least, that was a possibility in spite of what she had told him last night. His eyes narrowed, and he asked himself, Where would she have gone? It must have been after midnight before she left the apartment. The subways was blocks away. Bus service late at night was poor. She hadn't had the money to use a taxi. There were several nearby hotels, flea-bags, but she might have tried one. It was worth while checking them.
He spent almost two hours, walking from one hotel to another, from one rooming house to another, asking about Lorene-about any late guests. But he accomplished nothing. Twice he stopped for coffee. Then, back near his apartment he stopped and talked to half a dozen people who might have been sitting out on their steps the night before. He learned nothing from them.
Margie King was on the corner a block from his apartment. Tall, thin, scrawny. The full light of the day wasn't kind to her. Cosmetics didn't help a great deal. He spoke to her. "Hello, Margie. Were you working the streets last night?"
She shook her head. "We don't say it that way. Now and then, in the evening, I take a walk. It's good for the health."
"Then, did you take a walk last night, late?"
"I might have."
"I'm looking for a girl who might have left my apartment building late last night. She was...."
"I would have stayed," Margie said.
"I know you would-but this is a business matter. This girl was young, slim, blonde. She was wearing a man's topcoat-light tan in color. It would have been too long for her."
"Competition?"
"Quit worrying about yourself. Did you see her?"
"Is it worth something if I did?"
"Ten bucks. If you can tell me where she went it's worth twenty bucks."
The woman frowned. "I don't know where she went."
"But you saw her!"
"I saw someone coming this way. Might have come from your place. I was across the street-waiting for a friend."
"What time?"
"Twelve-thirty-quarter to one. I thought she was drunk."
"A girl wearing a man's topcoat."
"I didn't think about it being a man's coat. It was too big for her. She had blonde hair."
"Where did she go?"
"On down the street-in that direction, along Fifth. I didn't keep watching her. My friend came along and I left." She meant a customer came along, a drunk who wouldn't mind her. Margie didn't have any friends any more. And she wasn't reliable in any way. She could lie as easily as she could tell the truth. Maybe she had seen Lorene on the street-maybe she hadn't.
"How far did you watch her?"
"Not far."
"Many people on the street?"
"A few. You know Hank Siodak? He was on the steps in front of his place. She must have passed him. Why don't you ask Hank about her?"
"Did you notice anyone else?"
"There were two cops on the next corner-if they stayed there. Lefty Horst was on the street, too."
"Anyone else?"
"Can't remember any more."
Ty nodded. He could see Hank Siodak tonight, and maybe he could find Lefty Horst some where on the street. He could locate the two cops-but he wanted to stay away from them.
"You said something about ten dollars," Margie said.
"Yes, I did." He reached into his pocket for his wallet, took out ten dollars, handed it to her, and added, "Keep your eyes open tonight, Margie. If you see the girl again, let me know."
"For another ten dollars?"
"Sure. Another ten."
"Consider that I'm working for you tonight."
He grinned sourly but shook his head. "Don't count on that, Margie. Keep your eyes open that's all."
He had his lunch, bought the latest papers, scanned the headlines, and he almost had indigestion. The murder of Ernie Snyder was on the front page of every sheet in town. The tabloids were playing it up. One of the headlines read: "MEAT CLEAVER MURDER." And under that he read: "POLICE SEEK BLONDE WAITRESS." He muttered angrily under his breath. This was building up, just as he had anticipated. Of course, Christy Huggins might be arrested before evening-and the murder might be solved. But if Huggins wasn't found and if Lorene Tucker kept out of sight, some of the newspapers would go hog wild in their punicity. A blood-spattered kitchen the murder instrument a meat cleaver-a mysterious blonde waitress-a missing cook. Here were all the ingredients of a sensational story. There was real money in it if he could find Lorene.
Damn it-he had to find her.
She couldn't have gone far-but where was she?
He stomped around his office, thinking, thinking, thinking. What had happened to Lorene? Where had that stupid little cunt gone? If he didn't move fast the police might pick her up. If that happened, of course, he could forget about her. But as long as Lorene was in hiding, she was fair game.
He had a date that afternoon with Ellie Cameron. She had asked him to be at her apartment by two o'clock. He was there promptly. By this time he had pushed his thoughts of Lorene into the back of his mind. Finding her was a problem, but he would work on that tonight. In the meantime, he would think of Ellie Cameron. There were two sides to her. She was a woman, pleasant, attractive, daring, and thoroughly fuckable. They would have a hell of a time screwing each other. But there was another consideration to be weighed. She had a value-a value in money. He had to keep that in mind. His approach to her had been on a blackmail basis-that she could work up something for Tony Zappa, who had run into her car. Then he had backed away from that, and instead, he had tried her as a lay....
She was a very nice piece of ass-but he wanted more than that.
He always wanted more.
A second meeting is always interesting. A second meeting is always different from the first. The second time, you've got something to build on. A foundation, a solid point of departure, and indicated course to be followed. He could guess the way Ellie would act when he appeared at the door. She would be vaguely hesitant. It would take her a moment to bridge the distance between yesterday and today. She would look into his eyes for assurance, she would listen for the eager sound of his voice. He would do the same.
He laughed at his own eagerness as he stood at her door. He reminded himself that this was just another hump-party, an afternoon session. This was nothing significant in his life but in a way it was. Here was where he found the spice of living. Fucking around like this was what made his existence, gave him his real sex kicks. He grinned and reached out and pushed the buzzer.
Ellie opened the door. A tall, slender woman, but no one would ever have said she was skinny. She had wide shoulders, big, luscious tits, a narrowing waist. Her eyes were brown, steady, and they were searching his face. Ty noticed that-and he stood waiting.
"Well, are you coming in?" she asked.
"Do you know what'll happen-if I do?"
Her lips twitched. "I think I can guess."
"You don't mind?"
"I can hardly wait."
He laughed softly. "Then what are we waiting for?"
He stepped forward, closed the door, and pulled the woman into his arms. He would be tender and more gentle, later on. Right now, he had to show his hump eagerness. He had to be rough, almost violent. His mouth came down on hers and his lips were hard. His arms, tight around her, lifted her to her toes, squeezed out the breath in her lungs. He held her that way for half a minute then he shifted his position enough to feel one of her tits. His hand was like a clamp.
Ellie pulled her head away. Her eyes were bright, excited. She had something to say, and she didn't sound at all disappointed. "You don't have to tear me apart."
"Why not? I might like to."
"What would you do tomorrow?"
"Hunt for your twin. Do you have a twin?"
"No twin."
"Then maybe I'd better save part of you today."
She leaned toward him. "No, don't. Let's spend everything we've got today. Let's shoot the works!"
He held her tightly again and thought at least she had all the right answers. Much more so than an ordinary woman. About his own age. Well educated-she had probably been at college or some finishing school. Neat, dean, and somewhere along the way she had lost her prejudices against fucking. Or maybe she never had any.
She whispered against his chest. "We don't have to stand here forever."
He laughed. "Any ideas?"
"One."
"Do I know the way?"
"I think you do."
He picked her up in his arms, headed for the bedroom, dumped her on the bed. "Is this what you expected?"
"I expected you to start this way."
"What about the clothes?"
"I'm not wearing many. Can't you do something about them?"
He stooped over. "You bet I can. Watch what happens."
She had been right in what she had said. Under the hostess gown she was wearing, he found nothing but a pair of panties. No slip. No brassiere.
He grinned at her. "Hussy! You were all for some stiff prick!"
"What else did you expect?"
"Next time I'll arrive in my bathrobe.
"What about the doormen?"
"Who cares about doormen?"
He pulled off his clothes and he was careless about them. It was important to seem to hurry. To be anxious to start to fuck her. He wanted her to notice that. She might not think he was in love with her. Love was a screwy word, anyhow, its meaning had been lost in too many uses. What was important, however, was to seem eager-to seem a slave to her cunt-needs. To be hungry for her pussy-impatient.
He sprawled onto the bed, took her in his arms. His lips found her mouth, but he didn't neglect her titties either. Nor for a moment. One hand was there right away, squeezing first one of her good-sized knockers, then the other. His fingers ruffed over the nipples which had hardened instantly. His head worked there, stayed there for a time, nuzzled between the two warm mounds of flesh. He tried one of the nipples, pulled at it with his lips. He did the same with the other.
The woman made sounds in her throat, appreciative sounds. She rolled to one side, rolled back, rolled the other way.
Ty edged over to her. Actually, he didn't have to be careful at all. Ellie was looking after him, showing him the way. He wasn't alone in what was happening. She was getting excited, too. Building up a storm. Storing up her emotions. Piling them higher and higher and higher. He caught the rhythm, and he held back, waiting. She was playing with his big prick, which was already stiff and fully erect.
Wait for another moment-and another-and another Let that surging flood of emotions pile up-higher-and higher-his hand was between her cuntlips, caressing her stiff clitoris, as her cunt writhed with the intense sensation.
Then, when he could no longer hold back, he thrust his prick into her cunt and began fucking her with brutal thrusts. She rode her cunt up and down his thick prick in time to his screwing. Then she screamed as she felt his hot spurts of jetting scum high up in her vagina.
And they went in tempestuous orgasm-over the moon-all the way the moon-and slide back on a roller coaster to the bed. That was the way. Boom and slide back-slowly and gently. Kick up high, then grab a parachute to get back to earth. This kind of an earth-the softness of a bed.
He kissed her forehead, gathered her into his arms, nestled her there, held her close, his sperm-dribbling cock still in her twitching cunt. You might call this an after-love, but to most women this was very important. It was like a seal of approval, an accolade. He didn't speak, either. He would wait for her to speak.
She did, finally. "Ummmm, that was a very good hump!"
He made a foolish boast. "I get better and better. "What do you think I do?"
"If you do much better we'll fuck ourselves to death."
"A nice way to die."
"That might take a week."
"Two weeks."
He still held her close. They were just talking now, saying nothing important. But it was still necessary to talk like this. Ty knew very well the role he had to follow. He was supposed to make love to Ellie Cameron. He had fallen for her. He wanted her. He could think of nothing else. He might speak of other things-and he would-but those things should seem incidental. His interest in her stood above everything else.
This was the way he should feel.
In her presence-this was the way he would act.
He wanted something from her. Money.
The woman shifted slightly in his arms. "You can't stay very long this afternoon. I'm sorry."
"Why? What's wrong?"
"Hugh will be coming home early."
He growled his answer. "All husbands ought to be hung."
"All but Hugh."
"I thought you didn't like him."
"He doesn't bother me often-and he brings something home which is very important. Money."
She moved again. "Ty-we don't have much time."
"Another hour?"
"Maybe. Yes, we have an hour."
"You said Hugh was going to the coast."
"He is-next week."
"What about Saturday night?"
"He'll be here."
"Could you get out?"
"I might."
"There's going to be a party in the Village," Ty said slowly. "I shouldn't tell you about it, because you might want to go, and if I took you with me, I might lose you."
Her voice quickened. "What do you mean?"
"To go, I have to take a woman. Then, I have to throw her onto the pot-and I might not get her back. Someone else might get her."
"Hmmm. Interesting. Who might get me?"
"That's hard to tell. It's a mixed up crowd-artists, writers, musicians, people from the theatrical world.
"That sounds like a crowd."
"Twenty people, more or less. Not too big a crowd."
"Whiskey or pot?"
"Take your choice. There'll be some pot-if you like that. It slows you down."
"Not all the way."
"Maybe not."
"Hmmm. Saturday night. I suppose it'll run all night."
"Easily."
"I could go to my sister's in Connecticut-arrange an emergency."
'Will your sister cover you?"
"Sure."
"Instead, you'll come to my place Saturday-when?"
"Late afternoon. Can I take a nap?"
"If I let you."
"You mean my pussy will be all worn out for the party."
"Okay."
"No. Conditioned."
"Hmmm. Show me what you mean."
He laughed and rolled toward her, stopped her talking with his mouth, and it was awfully easy to get a fresh harden next to her. She could meet his kiss with excitement, her arms tight around him. Then, for a time as he played around with her tits, she just lay there seemingly herself. But that didn't last long. Her hands got busy caressing his stiffening cock and balls.
She did more moving, got herself settled where she wanted to be, then grabbed his stiff dick and inserted his dick-head between her cuntlips. He thrust his pecker completely up her vagina, until his balls slapped against her cunt as he fucked. She didn't wait long this time before she hit a peak, he could tell. Then she came again and again, and he started fucking harder and harder, but she didn't mind that a bit.
She was there again-right with him. She was clutching him tightly, as though she meant never to leave.
She wouldn't leave for awhile this was too much fun, especially when he shot another load of hot sperm into her orgasming twat, and kept on spurting his semen until it gradually became only a dribble. Her twat was very hot and wet, flooded with her own cunt-juices as well as his sperm. This was one of the best humps yet-lasting and lasting.
Hell with the time-this fuck-session was something real.
They lay close together. This had been good. You didn't move away from frigging like this until you had to. But he was going to have to take his cock out of its pleasant haven since Elbe's husband was coming home early.
He heard her whisper, "Ty?"
"I'm here. Very much here."
"You've got to go."
"But I like it where I am."
"I like this too, but if Hugh walked in...."
"Hell with him."
"That doesn't help. If he finds you fucking with me...."
"What would he do?"
"I don't know. I don't want to find out. Please, Ty ... "
He laughed ruefully, moved away, and sat up. Then he looked over at the woman. Her cunt was satiated-or at least should have been. A light perspiration was on her body, the muscles of her face were lax, her makeup was gone or most of it was. She looked little older then he had guessed-maybe she was well up in the thirties-but she was damned good at fucking. And she still wasn't bad looking.
"You better get dressed too," he told her.
"I know." She got up slowly, made a face at him. "Wasn't that worth it-even for an hour and a half?"
"Sure that was worth it-even if I have to go out through the window-ten floors to the sidewalk."
"I wouldn't want my favorite prick-pusher to do that."
They got dressed, talking casually as they did. They made the bed, then walked to the parlor.
"So Saturday's all right?" he asked again. "The party in the Village?"
"I can make that," Ellie said.
He scowled at the floor. "I shouldn't take you. I might lose-and I don't want to lose you."
"But just for one night-and what's a single night? We'll be fucking each other so many other nights!"
"I know, only...."
He didn't have a chance to finish it. He heard a sound at the door, the sound of a key in the lock, and he knew what that meant. Hugh Cameron was home-in another instant he would be inside-and a few explanations would be due. The next few moments might be difficult, but they shouldn't be as difficult as they would have been fifteen minutes ago when he and Ellie had been still screwing in bed together. There was considerable difference between a parlor and a bedroom.
Ty looked around toward the door, then back at Ellie. He spoke quickly, and under his breath...."Let me handle this-play along."
She took a quick breath, stiffened. Ty wanted to tell her not to look so guilty, but there wasn't time. He turned toward the hall door as it opened, and as a man came in.
Hugh Cameron was a big man. He was tall, wide shouldered, heavy, starting to get fat. He was probably soft, he looked it. His face was chubby, pink cheeked, and his eyes were deeply buried in his skull. He was scowling as he came in and his scowl grew worse as he looked at Ty and his wife.
"Are you Hugh Cameron?" Ty asked bluntly. "That's right. Who the hell are you?"
"I'm an attorney. Name's Grinnell."
"Yeah? So what?"
"There was an accident in the Village the other day," Ty said, and he was making up this story as he went along. "A truck ran into a kid. He was badly hurt. Your wife was one of the witnesses. I came here to ask her if she would appear in court-to help the kid."
Hugh Cameron stared at his wife. "Did you see the accident?"
Ellie bit her lips. "I ... I'm not sure. There was a big crowd. Maybe I saw what happened but it wasn't clear. That is...."
"Then you can't testify," Hugh said. "What's this man been telling you?"
"He thought I ought to help. If I could...."
"But you can't," Hugh said, and he turned toward Ty. "All right, get out. Beat it."
"I can get a court order...." Ty started.
"Then get it."
"All right," Ty said. "I'll get it." He marched to the door, opened it, stepped into the hall. And just for the hell of it, he slammed the door. He was grinning as he headed for the elevator. Elbe wasn't grinning.
He had been suspicious about her and Stan.
He watched her, studied her-he did the same to Stan, but in a different way. He seemed friendly. He even took Stan on a yacht trip-a trip from which Stan didn't return. The police said that from all indications, Stan drank too much and fell overside accidentally.
That wasn't true.
Stan never drank too much.
He wouldn't have fallen overside, accidentally.
But he had died very suddenly, he was out of her life. Now and then Hugh reminded her of Stan-and laughed, as though what had happened was funny. It hadn't been funny to her. It couldn't have been amusing to Stan. She had cost him his life.
Hugh poured a drink, gulped it. He took another, then squinted at Ellie. "Who was this man? This attorney? What was his name?
"I think it was Grinnell?"
"How long have you known him?"
"I don't know him at all."
"Where was this accident?"
"In the Village."
"What street-what day?"
"I ... I think it was on twelfth."
"You think-hell! You know what street, don't you?"
Ellie shook her head. "No, I don't. I'm not even sure there was an accident. There was a crowd, there was some shouting but I couldn't see what it was all about."
"Then this Grinnell is a shyster-and to hell with him. I'll slap a suit against him that'll run him out of town. Damned if I won't."
He marched to the telephone, dialed a number, started talking to the man who answered. He was asking for information about an attorney named Grinnell, snapping orders. Ellie was afraid Ty was in for trouble. Of course Hugh might let this slide. He was going to Hollywood-might be there for some time. He might forget about Ty. This was a possibility, at least.
She fixed a drink-a stiff one. Then she sat down and waited.
Hugh slammed down the telephone. "All right, we'll see about this guy. What the hell were you doing down in the Village?"
Ellie shrugged. "I was just wandering."
"That's a crummy part of town."
"I like it."
"You said wandering-you mean adventuring?"
"I said wandering and window shopping...." Hugh stared at her, and his eyes had narrowed. "Wandering, huh. Maybe you're getting eager for a stiff cock.
"You don't have to be vulgar!"
"Who's vulgar? I know what you're like when you get eager. Get in there an' get your clothes off."
"What!" She was startled. It was seldom that Hugh ever bothered her for fucking. When he got drunk, sometimes, he wanted to get in bed and screw her. But he never managed to do much. At such times he couldn't even get it up! There were other occasions when he was too virile, and when he had hurt her. He never waited for her. She was just a cunt-to be fucked.
"Damn it," he was saying. "You heard me. Go in there an' get your clothes off."
She stood up, and she had stiffened again. She was suddenly angry. "Hugh-this is no way to act."
He walked to the bar, poured another drink. "Why not?"
"You're treating me like-like a whore!"
"What do you want-four-bits? Go in there and get your clothes off."
She took a deep breath, spoke through her teeth. "I'll be damned if I will."
Hugh gulped his drink, threw his glass toward the fireplace and walked toward her. He raised his hand, slapped her, and half-shouted an order. "Damn it, do what I said. Get in the bedroom and spread your legs. I feel like fucking you!"
"But Hugh...."
He raised his hand again, slapped her again, and it wasn't an easy blow. It knocked her sideways.
He struck her again. This time she lost her balance, fell to the floor. She was startled, frightened. Her cheeks seemed on fire from his blows. She was a little dizzy. She thought, God! What is happening? Hugh isn't like this. He's never forced me to fuck.
She started to get up but his foot pushed her down and she heard him shouting. "Damn it, this will do. We don't need any damned bed. I'll fuck you right here."
He stooped over, grabbed the front of her dress and jerked. With his second jerk the material of the dress ripped apart. He gave another jerk, this one at her slip and her brassiere. He was down on his knees, now, tearing her clothes off, and he was acting like an animal, like a beast. She could hear his heavy panting.
The straps over her shoulders cut into her flesh, the back hooks of the brassiere popped apart. He jerked her clothes down over her hips-most of them-but not her garter-belt. He yanked at it, and yanked at it, but it held.
Ellie looked at his face-it was like the face of a crazy man. He was sweating, his eyes had a glazed expression. His hands were hard, cruel. He slapped at one of her tits and laughed. He slapped at her breasts again, and again.
Unaware of it she started screaming, but he slapped her across the mouth and she heard his grating order, to shut up. His fingers closed around her throat, but then let up.
She didn't scream again. She was afraid if she did, she might die.
She just lay there now. She felt his body pressing against her. He was hurting her, but not as much as he might have. Ty, had readied her. If it hadn't been for that she would be screaming. Of course this was a joke. Hugh didn't know that but Ty had made his conquest easy. Yes, this was quite a joke, but she didn't feel like laughing.
He continued to screw her until he shot his load into her pussy and he rested.
He got up, finally, walked to the bar and fixed a drink, then looked back at her and said, "All right, you can get up and fix yourself. You look like hell."
"Who made me look like hell."
"I did," Hugh said, and he threw back his head and roared. He seemed to think this was funny-terribly funny.
Ellie sat up. She was wearing hose and a garter belt-nothing else. Her clothes were piled here and there on the floor. Her body was blotched, her hair was mussed. She knew she didn't look at all glamorous but that didn't bother her.
"You'll never put your cock in me again," she said flatly.
"I'll fuck you any damned time I please," Hugh answered.
"What about your secretary?"
He pointed a finger at her. "Don't start in on me about my secretary. If I want to fuck her too, I will-and to hell with you."
"I suppose you're taking her with you to Hollywood."
"What if I am? I need her."
"And what about your starlets?"
"I'll take them too, if I want to-and shut up."
She got up, gathered her clothes, then looked at Hugh. "I might not be here when you come back?"
He snapped his answer. "Then beat it. Who cares."
Carrying her clothes she headed for the bedroom.
A moment after Ellie was in the bedroom, Hugh Cameron entered, slamming the door behind him.
"Don't think you can get away with high-hatting me!", he snarled. "I can fuck you anytime, any place, any way I feel like...."
Ellie dropped the clothes in her hands as he pushed her backwards on the bed. The room seemed to reel around her as she lay flat on her back, still clad only in her hose and the garter belt.
His strong hands slid along the fullness of her buttocks, cupping her asscheeks. He slowly spread her thighs apart and his eyes took in her completely exposed cunt. Ellie gasped and shook her head from side to side as she realized his intentions, but he boldly mouthed her cuntlips and clitoris. Hugh's head bobbed in a rough rhythm and in spite of herself, Elite's cunt wriggled in response to the intense sensation his licking tongue was giving her clitoris.
Hugh raised his head and laughed at the spasms that swept over her writhing twat.
"I told you-any time, any way I want! And don't forget your luxurious tastes, if you're really thinking of leaving," he growled.
He strode from the room, a smug, satisfied grin on his face because he had cunt-lapped her into "coming"....
CHAPTER FIVE
East Village was like a small town when something important like Ernie Snyder's unhappy demise occurred. The rumors and gossips flew hot and heavy in Tony Galucci's barber shop on the corner. Ty Grinnell just leaned back as Tony trimmed his hair and got an earful.
"I tell you Christy done Ernie in," the man in chair number one said through his lathered lips.
"Naw, it must have been that blonde waitress," the resident of chair number three declared positively.
"Whoever done it-Ernie Snyder was a dirty fink and deserved what he got!," chair number five chimed in.
"'Da cops, they bother me and my men all morning. Asking all kindsa questions. We no get work done," Tony lamented to Ty as he finished the special razor cut job Ty liked.
Ty paid Tony and thoughtfully left the shop. He had a few unanswered questions of his own floating around in his mind.
"Who was the blonde waitress? No one even knew her."
What had happened to her? Who cared. If she got away, that was fine.
Ty walked back to the office. He had been there about ten minutes when Tom Riley came in. He looked tired, worn out. The routine work of a detective wasn't easy. He grabbed a chair, sat down, leaned back.
"What the hell happened to that waitress? I've talked to twenty men she served-I've got twenty different descriptions. She was tall and short, thin and fat, blonde and not quite blonde. She was pretty and plain, blue-eyed and brown-eyed. She was young and old. What was she like, really?"
"Young, slim and blonde," Ty answered. "That would fit only about sixty hundred women around here. In the entire city, sixty thousand."
"Take a look at 'em," Ty said. "That would wear me out. Where is she, Grinnell?"
"I don't know."
"Find her for me."
"How can I?"
"I don't know, but you better do it. I might take a look at your record."
"Go ahead."
"I don't look at people the usual ways," the detective said. "I want that woman-understand?"
"Sure. I'll do what I can," Ty said.
He would, but he would do it for himself. If Lorene had some kind of value he would collect for himself. He leaned back in his chair after Riley left, closed his eyes, and did some thinking. For a time there wasn't any rhyme or reason in what he was thinking. He started with Ellie Snyder.
He had just left her-and her husband. That had been a damned narrow escape. If Hugh had arrived fifteen or twenty minutes earlier he would have surprised him and Ellie in her bedroom-and in her bed-having a hell of a wonderful fuck together. As it was, he was still in the house when Hugh got there-and he had been forced to think like chain lightning. He had come up with a possible yarn. Ellie had helped him in a fumbling sort of way. At any rate he got over the first hump, managed to walk away. Maybe he hadn't walked away as much of a hero figure-but neither had he crawled.
Of course, that wasn't important. That was incidental. And the fucking of Ellie had been incidental, as fine as that had been. What was of vital concern was this-Ellie wasn't broke. She had her hands on some money. She could probably raise more. What he had to determine now was how to clip her-nicely, so there was no reaction, no pain, no trouble.
Of course he had a little time with her.
But he didn't have much time with Lorene Tucker.
Lorene Tucker ... What had happened to her?
It could be she was miles away, but he had a feeling she wasn't. She had been stoned, drunk. Then she woke up and fled, but she must have staggered all over the street. In that condition, she couldn't have gone far. Margie Kind had seen her-if she wasn't lying, and she had said the woman she noticed had seemed drunk. At that time, Hank Siodak had been out in front of his apartment house. He might have seen her. He had been on the street that night. Lefty was a jack-roller, a mugger, a thoroughly unpleasant character. If he had caught a glimpse of her he might have taken a crack at her-and in that case she would probably be in the hospital. Lefty wasn't easy on his customers. In that case, the police had her. He could forget about questioning Lefty.
Hank Siodak was a real possibility. He worked for the subway, had a good job, a steady job. He should have been able to move out of here, but he hadn't. He said he liked it here. Ty had heard that he had money, and for that reason he was on his list-but that didn't mean any more than that he was a prospect for future consideration. Anyone in the district who had money was on Ty's list.
It was late in the afternoon. Hank ought to be home. Ty left his office, went to see him.
Hank wasn't friendly. He was suspicious of any professional person. If Ty had worked with is hands-in a restaurant or bar he would have been acceptable. As a white collar man, a gentleman, he didn't belong. Hank said "Yeah, what do you want?"
"It was hot last night," Ty said. "You sat out front until it was quite late."
"Maybe I did, maybe I didn't."
"A woman went along the street, heading west. It was about eleven forty-five. She was wearing a man's light tan topcoat."
"That so?"
"Don't you remember?"
Hank shook his head. "The days have been hot, my work's been heavy. When I come home I just sit. That's all-sit. Don't do nothin'-don't think about nothin'."
"If you'd seen this woman...."
"Wouldn't have noticed her-wouldn't be talking about her anyhow. Don't go in for gossip."
Ty scowled, bit his lips, and was silent. He wished he could have put Hank on the witness stand, under oath. If he could have done that he might have learned something. The way things were he wouldn't get anywhere. He might as well move on, forget about Hank Siodak.
He did, headed on down the street, and he was thinking that this was the direction Lorene must have taken. She had walked from the corner where Margie had seen her, past Hank's-and on to where?
He stopped suddenly. Just ahead was Rudy Estrada's. A dozen women could have been housed in Rudy's back rooms. Lorene wouldn't have gone here-on her own-but it wasn't unrealistic that Rudy might have taken her in. In a way. Rudy was like him. He saw the possibility of money in everything that came up. Here was Lorene last night, staggering along the street. She might have been slumming from uptown, out on a tear. He could take her in-and charge her plenty to get away if he guaranteed no publicity.
Yes. Definitely, Lorene could be here, in Rudy's.
But how could he be sure of that how could he reach her?
He stood there for a full minute-thinking, figuring on what he could do. Rudy wouldn't spill any beans. He was like the Sphinx-stone-face himself. A bluff wouldn't work either. He was a tough character, had the resilience of iron. He couldn't be bought-but some of his employees might. He had a Japanese girl named Nikko who was really something. Small beautiful, young, like a flower. If he could get to her.
Ty moved on, turned into the shop-five steps down then through a door and into a small parlor. The air in the place was lightly scented. The room was rather dim. Not much light got through the curtained windows. The walls were draped. One of the drapes moved, and Rudy came into the room.
"Ah, Senor Grinnell," he said, and he walked forward, smiling. "I had not expected you."
"Just came by," Ty said. "It's been a rough day."
"Most days are rough. We live in a too hurried pace."
"You can say that again. I've been on my feet all day."
"Then it is time to rest-and to relax."
"Yeah, I want to talk about that-anything doing tonight?"
"Nothing tonight. This woman you mentioned...."
"I wasn't thinking of her. I want to figure something for her next week. Monday or Tuesday."
"Monday or Tuesday? That will be fine."
Ty looked away. "You've got a Japanese girl here, haven't you. I mean...."
"Ah, you must mean Nikko."
"Yes ... that's her name. Is she here now?"
Rudy shook his head. "She is not here now. She is with her people. But she will be here later-ten or eleven."
"Could I see her? That is ... "
"I think that could be arranged. If you would like to take a room now...."
"No. Later," Ty said. "About eleven."
"She will be here. She is a delightful companion-very understanding."
Ty grunted. He didn't like this-setting up a hump-date-but there wasn't any other way to meet her-get a chance to talk to her. He could have tried to stop her on the street-but in a direct approach like that he didn't think she would talk.
"Be back at eleven," he said to Rudy and he turned toward the door, but stopped and looked around.
"Have the police bothered you today?"
Rudy shook his head. "No. Why should they?"
"They've been all over the district, like flies, asking questions about Ernie Snyder."
"Ah-the murder. Yes, I did talk to several of your police officers-but I could not help them. I get along, with the police very well."
"I'll bet you do," Ty said.
He grinned-and left-and he was wondering how much protection money Rudy was paying, and who picked it up. It might be to his advantage to know such a thing. That might be worth something. If he could get close to this Japanese girl while he was frigging her-if he could get her to talk....
He walked on down the street, thinking, looking ahead, planning. Nikko had been around quite a time. Reasonably, she might know something about Rudy's operation. She might talk for free-or she might talk for money. If he risked a little in that direction it might be worth while.
Tom Riley stopped him on the corner. "Anything new?"
"Nothing yet," Ty answered, and his eyes narrowed. "Do you have any time schedule? When do you knock off?"
"Never-while a case is hot." The detective pulled off his hat, smoothed his hand over the perspiring bald spot. Course if I pick up this blonde waitress, I can slow down a bit. Seen the nespapers?"
"They're building this up as a real case. I don't figure Ernie Snyder was much-but the way he got killed was special-a meat cleaver through the skull-blood everywhere. If you ever kill anybody and want to make the headlines, make it a bloody affair. Don't be a piker."
"I haven't found it necessary to kill anyone-yet."
"Don't, the detective said, "They always get caught."
Ty walked on, and he was vaguely uneasy. Tom Riley didn't bother him too much, but he was symbolic of what was happening everywhere. Right now there were probably a dozen detectives combing the area. Watching-listening-digging for information. They might uncover a number of things beyond what they learned about the death of Ernie Snyder.
Another man stopped him-Gabe Blaney. Big, thick bodied, black-skinned. A rather quiet man-or at least he seemed quiet, and he kept out of trouble. He had a line to City Hall and another to the syndicate. He had powerful friends in both directions. An influential man. Ty hadn't had any trouble with him, but he sensed the man didn't like him.
"What did the cop want?" Gabe asked. "He's just looking," Ty answered. "Who's he after?"
"The blonde waitress who worked for Ernie."
"Know where she is?"
"No. Do you?"
Gabe shook his head. "I don't know nothin'. None of us know nothin'. Ernie got what was comin'."
"Didn't mean anything to me," Ty said.
"You've been asking questions-just like the cops." Gabe said.
Ty stiffened. He didn't like this-being put on a grill. He wanted to tell Gabe Blaney to go to hell-but he didn't. That wouldn't be smart.
"You prodded Margie King." Gave said flatly.
Ty moistened his lips. He did some quick thinking, then nodded. It was time to gamble. If it worked right it ought to tie him closer to the district-and he needed that. He lowered his voice. "You want the truth?"
"Might be interesting."
"Christy Higgins brought the blonde waitress to my apartment, the night Ernie was killed."
"That so?" Gabe sounded skeptical.
"That's the truth," Ty said. "Christy didn't come in, but Lorene did. She wanted help. She said she didn't know anyone in the city-and she didn't have any money. She said she didn't kill Ernie but she couldn't stand an investigation. She wanted me to hide her."
"What happened?"
"I went to the kitchen to fix a couple of drinks. While I was doing that Lorene changed her mind. She grabbed my topcoat to hide her uniform-and left. That was a damned good topcoat. I want it back."
"Have you told the cops the waitress was at your place?"
Ty shook his head. "You think I'm crazy? I haven't told them anything."
"That's a good rule, Grinnell."
"What?"
"That one-don't tell the cops anything."
"I'm not about to sing," Ty said. "Never did, never will."
Gabe scrubbed his jaw. He motioned vaguely. "Christy Higgins was a pretty decent guy. Don't know if he killed Ernie, or not. Don't care. Hope he made it wherever he headed."
"So do I" Ty said.
Gabe Blaney grunted, nodded, and turned away. Ty walked on. He spent a little time thinking about Gabe Blaney. The man was as crooked as they came. He controlled the policy racket in this district-the numbers game. Several people worked with him. They collected a hell of a lot of money. They couldn't keep it all. A good percentage went in to the syndicate pool. Part of this was paid out as protection. The syndicate, itself, was a powerful organization. He wouldn't have wanted to tangle with it for a moment, but he was still annoyed about Gabe Blaney. There ought to be some way to handle him some safe way. The man just didn't like him-and probably never would. His own growing importance in the district was threatened by men like Blaney.
It was time for dinner-then for several hours he could prowl the street and see what he could learn. If he turned up nothing by eleven P.M., why then he would see what he could accomplish with the Japanese girl, Nikko.
He was smiling by this time. Nikko! What a hell of a name! Young, but old enough. Wise in the ways of the world. And rather beautiful. The evening might be a lot of fun. And costly. Rudy would clip him for about fifty bucks. A private deal with Nikko might cost another fifty. He didn't like that-he didn't like that at all-but he would make it up some other way. There would be all sorts of avenues which led to the bank.
He headed for one of his favorite restaurants. For a change, he would have a good meal. This might turn out to be a long hard, grueling evening. It seemed a good steak was in order.
She dreamed, and dreamed, and dreamed. Some were pleasant dreams, reaching far down into her childhood. She retraced a picnic she had attended when she was about eight, she recalled her thirteenth birthday. Her mother, who had been a very sensible person and who wasn't afraid of any superstitions at all, had decorated her cake with a black cat made of chocolate icing, and in order to get into the house you had to walk under a ladder. "Lorene," her mother had said. "Lorene, never be afraid of anything. If you are pushed into a corner-fight. Fight your way out."
Her mother was much more aggressive than her father. He believed in taking things easy. But her mother had taught her to fight. To fight her way out.
It was good her mother had said that. She had had a rough time during the past year. She had been forced to fight her way out of the corner on several occasions. First there had been Jud-and he had smothered her. Overwhelmed her. But she had finally got away from him. Not all the way, possibly. She could still imagine him, bobbing in the dark waters of the well. But he would stay there forever.
Then there had been Wayne Boland-and he had been like a nightmare-a figment of her imagination. But at the same time he had been very real. Wayne Boland, a thin, scrawny man. Hunched and about forty. He had thin, iron-gray hair, and bristling whiskers. Brown eyes. Kind, brown eyes. And a tired but friendly smile. He had seemed like such a pleasant man she had trusted him-but she would never trust a man again. Never. Especially she wouldn't trust a man who seemed friendly and who offered to help her.
Right now, remembering Wayne Boland, she knew she was only half asleep, that she was caught in a reverie, caught on the edge of consciousness. She made a vague attempt to choke off this section of her life but something wouldn't let her. She wanted to get to the present-to what was happening now-but to get there she had to travel in Wayne's truck.
It was an old truck, and it was almost empty, and it bounced along the highway. Hundreds of other cars passed them. The truck couldn't go very fast.
"Where you headed for?" Wayne asked, after he helped her into the seat beside him.
"Just ... anywhere," Lorene answered.
"Running away?"
"From my Aunt and Uncle. I don't have any other folks."
"Glad it ain't a husband who might be after you." Wayne said, and he laughed. "What you looking for-up the road."
"A job," Lorene answered. "A job for money. I've been working for nothing."
"Jobs can be scarce as hen's teeth."
She shook her head. "I'll find one-somewhere I'll find one. I'm strong and I don't mind work. I'll get along some way."
They talked, casually, as the afternoon passed. Toward dark they stopped, and at a drive-in they had hamburgers and coffee-and Wayne paid for them. They used the restrooms, Wayne bought more gas, and they drove on-and on-and on.
It must have been toward midnight when he pulled off the highway, turned on a side road, drove under a covering of trees in someone's orchard, and stopped the truck. "Good place to lay up," he said, and his voice hadn't changed a bit. "Can't keep going all night. There's a couple blankets back there. You take one, I'll take the other."
"I'll stay here," Lorene said. "I'm not sleepy."
She had looked around into the blackness of the bed of the truck. Possibly, Wayne wouldn't touch her, but why take a risk?
"Suit yourself," the man said. "Want to stay up, that's okay by me."
He hadn't bothered her all afternoon, or all evening. He made no pass toward her now. He climbed over the seat and into the bed of the truck. He put a blanket over the seat for her, then he settled down, and apparently, went to sleep.
Lorene sat up-but she had been sitting up for hours. Her muscles had stiffened, her back hurt, she was developing a headache. It occurred to her she was being very foolish not to roll up in the blanket he had given her. It was foolish not to get a little rest. Tomorrow might be a hard day.
Very carefully then, she climbed into the back of the truck. She wrapped the blanket around her, stretched out on her back, closed her eyes. She fell asleep almost instantly.
Then she awoke. When she went to sleep she had been on the edge of the floor of the truck, and she had been quite alone. She was in the same place when she woke up-but she was no longer alone. Wayne was with her. Under her blanket. Partly under her dress feeling for her cunt. One hand was on her tits. It hadn't been much of a problem to get there. Before going to sleep she had loosened her clothes, unfastened her brassiere.
She awoke aware of his hand on her breast and of his heavy breathing. She could feel the heat of his body, too, although he was fully clothed. And he smelted of sweat. A sickening sweat.
He spoke to her under his breath. "Hey, kiddo, wake up. Knew you'd come back here. Hoped you would, anyhow. Wake up!"
She didn't move for a moment, didn't say a word, but she started thinking swiftly. It wasn't going to be easy to escape from here. She recognized that instantly. He had her against the wall of the truck. She couldn't roll away, couldn't jerk away and run. If it came to an out and out struggle she wouldn't be a match for him. Maybe, if she started struggling, he would give up. She could try that, at least, but if that didn't work, then she would have to trick him. And that was a problem. How could she get away for just an instant? How could she get out of his clutches far enough to make a break, get out of the truck, and dive into the darkness? Only one possibility occurred to her. That might work-it might not.
That hand on her breasts got a little rougher. He pinched one of the nipples, pinched the other. They had hardened. She had sensed that. There was even a low wave of excitement stirring over her body but she meant to smother that. Did she want to be fucked by this man ... Never! In some way or other she was going to escape.
First the struggle. She would try that.
Then the trick-and if that didn't work....
He shook her impatiently. "Hey, kiddo! Wake up! The party's about to get started. Come on-wake up!"
She made a loud gasp, reached for the hand on her tit, tried to move it-but couldn't. She tried to sit up but that wasn't possible either.
"Hey, what's the matter with you, anyhow?" he asked, growling the words. "What the hell do you think I picked you up for? There ain't nothin' that comes for free, kiddo. Not a damned thing."
She started struggling, but didn't get anywhere. His arms held her down, pressed her against the wall and the floor of the truck. She still struggled, and she whispered, "Please, Wayne, Please!"
"Nothing doing, kiddo."
"Please...."
"Nope. I been planning this hump all afternoon. I ain't about to miss out."
She relaxed, just a bit. But the man didn't. One arm was around her. One hand was fairly free to fumble with her breasts, or to start tugging on her dress. She was prisoned right where she was-and to get free seemed impossible. She relaxed even more and when he leaned over to kiss her, she made no protest. She even opened her mouth. She didn't wince when his hand dug under her dress and felt her cuntlips.
He pulled away from her to say, "Ease up, kiddo. Ease up a little. I know what I'm tryin'. I'm gonna get in there too."
She whispered a word. "Maybe...."
"Maybe nothin'," he answered, and he laughed, and that hand of his beneath her dress moved, "my cock is soon gonna be up that nice cunny of yours."
She spoke again. "Wayne...."
"What is it, kiddo?"
"If I've got to do this...."
"You gotta, kiddo. I'm gonna fuck you an' that's all there is to that."
"Wayne, if I've got to do this, then let's do this right. These clothes ... I want to get them off ... "
"Well, IH be damned...."
"That would make fucking more fun...."
This was the trick. This was what she had been working toward. She had stopped fighting him, and let him kiss her, had let that hand of his move on her bush or on her cuntlips as he wanted. But then she had come to this-an offer to take off her clothes. This ought to work. She would have to get up for just an instant, but an instant was all she needed. She would dive for the front seat, scramble away. In the darkness she would be safe.
She said, "Wayne ... should I take off my clothes?"
He was pleased. No question about that. "Take 'em off?" he said. "Sure we'll take 'em off. I'll even help."
"I can do it quicker."
"Maybe you can, Kiddo, but I can't wait. We'll get 'em off soon enough-but we'll do that later."
"But Wayne...."
She was lost. In making her bid to get up and take off her clothes she had relaxed-and that hand under her skirt had finally gotten to her cunt-hole and she was lost.
She could have closed her eyes and thought it was Jud who was fucking her-for Wayne's manner was just the same. He wasn't thinking about her-not once. He was enjoying himself. He was pleasuring his own cock....
That was the way men frigged women-God how she hated them.
She kept her eyes closed. She told herself, Easy, Lorene. Easy. Get through the next few minutes. Close your mind to what is happening. This won't kill you, anyhow. Take this easy, but what did that mean....
What was happening to her body? He had thrust his cock in her cunt and was ramming it in and out of her vagina, suddenly she felt the warm spurts of his hot scum shooting into her cunt as he ejaculated in the throes of his orgasm.
That low tide of excitement she had felt was more than a low tide. That was boiling, churning through her cunt, riding along the nerve paths. That broke her up in a riotious giving, and as that subsided her strength seemed to drain away.
Wayne moved away. He said, "God, kiddo. God-this was really good fucking. An' we're just starting."
She didn't answer, didn't move. But she heard every word he said and she knew what he meant. This was just the beginning. He would fuck her again-and she would respond. And again-and her cunt would come again. He would slobber kisses on her face-he would move to her breasts. He would work at her-and work at her-and work at her. Tomorrow she would hardly be able to walk, her tight cunt would be so sore-her breasts would seem to be on fire. She would be listless, her mind would be dead. She would sit in the truck next to Wayne and now and then he would prod her and boast about himself. He might feed her during the day, but when it grew dark again and when they stopped somewhere ... well, she would just have to fuck for her supper.
She shook her head and she said, "Never-never-I can't take that...."
"Never?" Wayne said. "You can't take what? What you talking about?"
"I was dreaming, I guess," Lorene said.
"You wasn't dreaming a while ago. You know what happened, kiddo? You got yourself fucked-an' I really mean fucked."
She made a sound in her throat.
"You can take your clothes off now." Wayne said.
"I was too eager, a while ago. Damned if I wasn't ready. Be ready with a hard-on again pretty soon, too. You're really gonna get plenty of hot cock tonight, kiddo."
"I want to get my purse," Lorene said. "It's on the seat of the car."
"Your purse-what the hell you want with your purse?"
"It's my handkerchief I want, really. After I get that I'll take my clothes off."
"Yeah-that's what I want." Wayne said. "Get your clothes off. I'll get off mine, too-or maybe I'll let you do that."
"Let me do that," Lorene said.
The man laughed. "You better hurry."
"I'll just get my handkerchief," Lorene said.
She got up, moved to the front seat. She reached over to the side. Wedged there were three tools which Wayne needed on occasion. A screw driver, a pair of pliers, and a wrench. Lorene picked up the wrench. It was of good size, the iron jaws were heavy. Holding it at her side, she turned back.
"Come on, I'm jist waitin," Wayne called. "Here I am," Lorene answered. She knelt down above his head, felt for it with her free hand.
"Hey, come on around here," Wayne said. "What you doin' back there?"
"I've got something for you," she answered, and she lifted the wrench into the air, then brought it down. She swung it as hard as she could. Jud hadn'tbled very much when she smashed his skull, but with Wayne it was different. His head caved in.
She shuddered, rolled from side to side. The memories which were torturing her were too vivid, too real. It was hard to remember Wayne's features and he didn't have any after he died. In the grey of the dawn his face had been nothing but a mess of drying blood, gristle and bone. Earlier he must have looked like something, but she couldn't see him in her mind, couldn't remember him clearly. That bothered her, but she didn't know why.
A voice reached her, a girl's voice, low, and there was a note of sadness in it. "You have been having evil dreams. I am very sorry. I think we will chase them away."
Lorene looked toward the voice. She was still on the shadowy borderland which separates sleep from the conscious world. She was awake but not wide awake. The gray softness of the unconscious shrouded her thinking. She could see the girl sitting on the edge of the bed, but not clearly. She had very dark hair and was wearing a black silk robe, a Japanese robe, embroidered in gold. Japanese-there had been a Japanese girl she had met on the street-but that seemed long ago.
She closed her eyes and she thought, who am I? That was easy to answer. She was Lorene Tucker. But where was she, how had she come here, what was happening to her now, what was ahead ... she shook her head numbly. Questions like those were too difficult to handle. She didn't even try to answer them. It would be easier to go back to sleep.
But she couldn't. Or at least she didn't. That girl on the edge of the bed spoke again, "Lorene, I have brought you more tea. It is very good tea. I made it myself."
Tea! She had some tea when the Japanese girl last night-or had it been last night? What time was it now?
"You do not remember me?" the Japanese girl said. "I am Nikko. I brought you here."
Lorene looked at the girl. The lights were low. She couldn't see the girl's face clearly but she seemed very young-and pleasant.
"You Drought me here," Lorene said.
"You were wandering in the street," Nikko said. "I think someone had given you too much whiskey-or something else-"
"Mr. Grinnell."
"So."
Lorene closed her eyes again. That name Grinnell had popped into her mind, and as though that was a key, a flood of memories swept over her. She had come to New York City, thinking she could lose herself somewhere here. She had looked for a job, by accident had gone to work for Ernie Snyder. It hadn't been pleasant working for him and that night-Christy Huggins-the meat cleaver....
She shuddered and covered her face with her hands.
"This tea will make you feel better," Nikko said.
Lorene looked at the girl again. "How long have I been here?"
"A night and a day. I think you were very tired. You slept all the time."
"I ... the police...."
Nikko shook her head. "The police never come here."
"Then you know."
"You worked for Ernie Snyder."
"I didn't kUl him."
"Christy Higgins killed him. That is well known to those who live here. Even the police feel that way. Can I show you something?" She got up, moved to the dresser at the side, picked up a hand mirror, and walked back. She held out the mirror to Lorene. "Look at yourself."
Lorene looked into the mirror, and her eyes widened. She could hardly recognize herself. Her hair had been dyed. It was now a midnight black. Her eyebrows were black, too.
"Who ... who did it?" she asked.
"I did," Nikko said. "I hope you are not angry. Now, try your tea.
It was a sweet tea, hot, but not too hot, and there was a faint fragrance to it. It tasted very good. It seemed to strengthen her even as she was drinking it, but it didn't occur to her to get up, it didn't sharpen her thinking. Her mind wasn't working very fast. Later she would realize that the tea she was taking wasn't just tea. Other things had been added.
"The police are looking for a blonde waitress," Nikko said. "I do not think you are blonde any more."
"I dyed my hair once before," Lorene said. "I was fourteen. I made my hair a horrible red. Mother wanted to spank me. She should have."
"I must have had a mother," Nikko said, "But I cannot remember her."
Lorene looked at the girl curiously. "How old are you?"
"You may guess."
"Sixteen."
"Almost twice sixteen."
"I can't believe it."
"If I seem younger, then that is very good. Now, if you will lie on your back I will see if I can make your muscles feel better."
"You don't have to do that."
"But I want to. I think I like you very much. I do not have many friends."
"Men...."
"Would you like to hear a secret? I hate men. All men. I cannot stand it when a man fucks me."
Lorene took a quick breath. "You feel that way too?"
"You will never know how much I hate them."
"I hate them too," Lorene said. "All men. If I never saw one in my lifetime again I think I would be happy."
"That is not the way I feel." Nikko said, and her voice had sharpened. There was an edge to it, a sense of bitterness. "I would like to get even with them. I would like to punish them. I would like to make them suffer as they have made me suffer. Slow torture would be too good for them."
"I...." Lorene started. "I ... "
"There is no reason you should not like this," Nikko said. "I think I will just keep on with what I am doing. No-I will even do more for I think this is good for the body."
The Japanese woman moved nearer. Her head hovered over Lorene's breasts and Lorene shut her eyes, tightly. But she knew what was happening. She could feel soft lips at one of her nipples, could feel the tickle. Nikko moved to the other nipple. And another thing happened. Nikko's hand moved gently over her exposed nipple and began to massage it until it stood up large and loved. Jud had done that-and Wayne-but not the way Nikko was. Slowly, carefully, the hand so gentle there was no hurt, only ecstasy.
She had started moving her cunt and hips but Nikko raised her head to say, "Do not hurry, Lorene. The longer you hold back, the better this will be. We have no hurry-you and I. We have all the time in the world. See if you like this...."
Then Lorene could feel Nikko's lips again and what was happening to her was beyond anything she had ever dreamed of. She had lost control of her body, of her emotions. She had stopped thinking. She was feeling-that was all-feeling-riding the crest of a cascading wave. Then everything was over, breaking away. Her body stopped moving, her tensions slid away as she had a tremendous come.
Nikko crawled back beside her, and now it seemed her black silk robe bad disappeared some time or other, and below that she wasn't wearing anything. She pulled up the bed covers, lay close to Lorene, her hand again on Lorene's breast. She spoke slowly, and very seriously.
"It was good, Lorene? Very good? If that was, you must say so."
Lorene bit her lips. "I ... I don't know what to say!"
"You would rather have a man?"
"No-never!"
"Then-did you not enjoy me? Was that not very good? Close your eyes and remember how that was."
Lorene closed her eyes-and remembered. She could feel one of Nikko's hands on her breasts, right now. That gave her a pleasant tingle. Such a gentle hand-so soft, caressing, careful. Maybe this was wrong, but she had loved what had happened. Nikko was a thousand times better than a man.
A man-she never wanted another man's prick-never! "That was good," Nikko insisted. "Yes," Lorene nodded. "That was good."
"Would you have my twat-or some man's cock?"
"Never another man."
"I have breasts too," the Japanese woman said. "Here-you may feel them."
She reached for one of Lorene's hands, drew it to her breast. Nikko's breasts were small and hard. The nipples were like round, blunted eruptions. Lorene had never felt any other woman's breasts. It gave her a strange feeling to touch these, which belonged to someone else. They even excited her. She touched Nikko's breasts and smiled at the way the nipples hardened even more.
"Is this the way-with two women?" she asked suddenly.
"There are a hundred ways," Nikko answered. "You will learn them all."
"If I could learn them from you...."
"Why not, Why not stay here?"
"But how can I?"
"Rudy will arrange that."
"Rudy...."
"He will never fuck you. That is-he is not interested in screwing women."
It was very pleasant, here on the bed. She felt very much alive, but she didn't want to get up. It would be good to stay here. It would be good if Nikko could stay with her. Nikko! A Japanese woman! And, if she had told the truth, she was over thirty, although that seemed impossible. A small, child-like woman-with the most gentle hands in the world. Exciting hands too. And exciting lips ... The way Nikko had kissed her nipples....
She rolled to the side, pulled Nikko into her arms, held her tightly against her body, and in that gesture all the rigid bonds which had formed during her early life were shattered, smashed into bits, destroyed forever. She had tasted men, and she wanted no more of them. What Nikko had offered was much better, a thousand times better.
But Lorene was still nervous and Nikko could feel the uneasy turning of her vibrant, lovely body. Nikko, sensitive to every tremor of Lorene's appealing form, knew many ways of soothing.
"You must sleep now, Lorene dear," she said tenderly moving her hand to the girl's curved, upthrust breasts.
"Just lie back," Nikko purred, "What I do now will be very relaxing."
With infinite delicacy, she began to massage Lorene's yielding breast softly, and as the nipple stiffened and erected she began on the other. When both nipples were jutting like large crimson cherries, Nikko mouthed them with a slow, circular motion of her head. Lorene felt a wave of calmness, mixed with rising desire pervade her as she lay back.
Nikko looked up a moment and then slowly moved Lorene's lovely thighs a little more widely apart. Without a moment's hesitation her head went swiftly to Lorene's cunt. Nikko's expert lips curled, her tongue worked with intricate skill and Lorene sighed deeply as the unusual, warm sensations sped through her. As Nikko nibbled gently at her twat, Lorene's buttocks began an undulating response.
Then with the suddeness of a thunderclap the warmth seemed to have the fire of molten metal. Lorene's hips tensed, and then her belly contorted in a frenzied dance which rippled through her whole body as she had her orgasm
"Oh, Nikko!", she screamed happily in a high tide of ecstasy, "that's the most terrific sensation ever!"
As the come spent itself and dwindled, Lorene nestled in the comfort of Nikko's embrace and was soon in a deep sleep.
CHAPTER SIX
Ty Grinnell began to blink his way to consciousness from a troubled restless night. The liquor fog that still hung on from last night's drinks was no help. Since Ernie Snyder's murder and his dramatic encounter with Ellie, and then Lorene, he had been drinking more. It helped to take the edge off the nagging problems these women had given him.
He could see their figures before him as he thought of them.
Ellie Cameron's flawless features, auburn hair and womanly, voluptuous figure, plus her expensive setting added up to a real classy female. He smiled as he recalled her round, full breasts, the sleek curves of her flaring hips and thighs-her beautiful pussy-and the passionate way she went for his fucking. She was an excellent combination for him, sex with cash in the offing.
The blonde Lorene was more slender, but her titties and hips were exceptional and enticingly curved. She was younger, very pretty and Ty was sure she would have been a most appealing fuck companion. But her involvement in Ernie Snyder's murder made her too hot for any romancing right now. He wanted to find her before the cops for two reasons. He would get great publicity out of appointing himself her attorney. Also, he could sell her eye-witness account to the papers for some real folding money.
Ty took a shower, shaved, dressed, had some breakfast, then ventured forth into the street. The same old street. Nothing looked different. The sidewalks were thronged, cars were parked along both curbs in careless defiance of the parking regulations. In the middle of the street cars were almost bumper to bumper. The clamor of noise was deafening. Ernie Snyder was dead, his restaurant was closed, but this morning no one seemed to care. At least there was no crowd around it.
It was just a short walk to Rudy's. He would have liked to have stopped there-but he couldn't. If he went to Rudy's at ten o'clock in the morning and said he needed a woman's cunt he would have looked ridiculous. He could go there tonight, and ask to see Nikko-and maybe he would get somewhere. You ought to be able to buy a person like that. He doubted that she collected much from Rudy.
He headed for his office and he had been there for only a short time when Tom Riley came in. If anything, the detective's scowl was deeper. His eyes were red-webbed, his shoulders sagged. He already looked tired and it was still morning.
"What did you do last night," Ty asked, Tie one on?"
"Knocked off at three," Riley said. "Never get much sleep on a tough case. Ain't got our hands on Christy Higgins, but we'll pick him up pretty soon. Want to know why people get caught?"
Tell me. You've got all the answers."
"It's easy," Riley said. "If you run, you most likely go to some town you know, some place where you've been. We spot those places and when you get there-we're waiting. Or if you go to some strange place, you stick out like a sore thumb, and we find you. It's a waste of time to try to run away."
"Some people make it."
"Not many."
Ty's eyes narrowed. "What are you going to find around here?"
"Maybe the waitress who worked for Ernie. What can you tell me about her?"
"Not a thing."
"Where is she?"
"Damn it, I don't know."
Riley blinked his eyes. "You talked to her in the restaurant, the morning of the night when Ernie was killed."
"Maybe I did. How would I know."
"A pretty girl, young, blonde-you noticed her. Man who was in the restaurant said you joked with her. Some people around here talk. Not many, but a few. What did you and the girl talk about?"
Ty thought quickly. It might have been generally true, that people around here didn't talk. But someone did. Take Margie King, as an example. She might be picked up by the police any time-and to curry favor, she would talk. He was skating on rather thin ice.
"She was a new girl," Ty said slowly. "I kidded with her, I suppose."
"Make a date with her?"
"No."
"Did you try?"
'I don't go for waitresses."
"What's wrong with a waitress? Got a notion you like women, and a guy who goes for women, doesn't draw many lines. Where can I find this blonde waitress?"
Ty felt a sudden flash of anger. "Damn it, I told you I can't help you-and I meant it."
The detective squinted at him, looked away. He shrugged and said, "All right, Grinnell. Maybe you're telling the truth. I'll keep looking around, keep asking questions. But if I don't get anywhere I might have to lean against you. An' if I lean, brother, I lean."
"You can go ahead and lean against a lamppost," Ty said sourly.
"Don't kid yourself about lampposts," Riley said. "They stand up straighter than most men."
Ty tried to get to work after the detective left, but he found it hard to concentrate. He stepped outside, walked to the corner, bought the morning newspapers at a stand across from Ernie's restaurant. He stared at the closed building, and frowned. This morning a policeman was in front of it. He was just standing there, doing nothing else. It seemed a waste of manpower to station a man in front of a locked restaurant.
Back in his own office he scanned the morning reports. The Times, and the News made quite a splash about the murder of Ernie Snyder. Neither went overboard, but both gave good coverage.
Ty didn't feel any better after reading the newspapers. This was a big case. It would be a bigger case tomorrow. Right now, if he could put his hands on Lorene Tucker, he could pick up a nice piece of change. He could even gamble. He could make a deal with some reporter, send him into Rudy's. But if Lorene wasn't there and if the reporter set up a howl, Rudy might find out who tipped the reporter. He couldn't afford to make any mistakes about this, at all. He had to protect himself.
The rest of the morning slid by.
And the afternoon.
He had two interesting telephone calls. One from Connie Hall, one from Ellie Cameron.
It was Ellie who called first, and her voice didn't sound quite right. It was shaky, nervous. "Ty-is everything all right for tomorrow?"
He frowned at the telephone. "You mean tomorrow night?"
The party hasn't been cancelled, has it?"
"I don't think so."
"I was referring to the afternoon. Didn't I tell you...."
"You said you would come Saturday afternoon."
"May I?"
Ty laughed softly. "I wish you were here now."
"So do I. What are you doing?"
"Sitting at my desk, working."
"I wish I could have asked you to come this afternoon, but I didn't think it was wise. This is Friday-and I never know how early Hugh might get home."
"What did he think of me?"
"He didn't like you at all. He's going to have you investigated."
"Let him. He'll never prove a thing. When can I expect you Saturday?"
"That depends on Hugh. I think I can get away by three in the afternoon. Should I go to your apartment? I have the address."
"Yes-the apartment," Ty said. "I'll be watching for you."
He hung up, spent a few minutes thinking about her. She had sounded a little edgy over the telephone but he knew he might have imagined her uneasiness. Or perhaps it was normal for a person to be a little shaky when she was making a forbidden date. Even an old hand at extramarital fucking, like Ellie was. He had no illusions about Ellie Cameron. She was a delightful chunk of woman but he wasn't her first cock away from home, not by a thousand miles. She was an old hand at screwing-one of the best. And she would fit into Connie's party as though she belonged. All he had to worry about was the afternoon. If he wasn't careful he and Ellie might fuck themselves out before the party started.
He was still laughing over such a possibility when Connie telephoned, and when he recognized her voice he said, "Hi, Con. Is that party still scheduled for tomorrow night?"
"That's one of the reasons I called you," Connie said. "Are you planning to come?"
"Wouldn't miss it for the world."
"You-and a friend?"
"That's the ticket."
"I may be jealous of her?"
"I hope you will. How do I get you out of the pot?"
She sounded amused. "You have to hope. You might even wind up with Delia Hernandez. She weighs two-ninety."
"Wow!"
"Don't sound frightened. I've seen her screw."
"I'd rather fuck you."
"Him Let's get crass. How much do I have to put up to squash those complaints against my buddings?"
"I told the guy at City Hall four hundred. You can hear him screaming now-but he'll take it. He hasn't said so, but he will."
Then out it to three hundred."
Three hundred. He'll never agree."
"Slow down, Ty. The hundred I just mentioned was party cost. These days, parties cost money."
"Not a hundred bucks."
"Want to drop out?"
"Of course I don't-but what do I get for a hundred bucks?"
"It'll be worth it."
"It better be," Ty said heavily.
She was really crawling out of a squeeze. It would cost him two hundred to set up the complaint forms, make them seem legal. As things stood now, his profit was down to a hundred. Considering the risks he was taking, that didn't amount to much.
"See you tomorrow night," Connie said over the phone.
"Don't worry, I'll be there," he answered, growling the words.
He hung up the telephone-and he was still angry. A hundred bucks for tomorrow night! That was damned steep. Maybe he could get the money from Ellie, but no, that wasn't smart. He would set up something special for Ellie, something tailored to what she could afford and that might amount to real money. As for Connie, he would collect from her-personally. She might not be worth that much, but he would find out.
He went out and got the afternoon papers. The tabloid sheets were really going to town over the MEAT CLEAVER MURDER They had hardly any facts to go on, but they did a lot of guessing. They had pictures of the restaurant, a drawn diagram of the kitchen, and an old portrait of Ernie Snyder. He had once been married. His ex-wife had been located and interviewed.
He kicked the papers aside. To hell with 'em.
Where was Lorene? What had happened to her? How could he find her? If he could only get his hands on that Japanese girl, he would make her talk.
There was a light knock on the door. He didn't answer it but someone opened it, came in, and closed it.
It was Nikko.
She was wearing sandals, slacks and dark silk blouse. Her black hair was parted in the middle. It was shoulder length and perfectly straight. Her face was wide-eyed, unsmiling. A child's round face. She must have had breasts. They pushed against the silk of her blouse. But they couldn't have been very large. In fact, there wasn't anything about her that was very large.
He pointed to her, "You! I wanted to see you last night."
"Yes, Mr. Grinnell." She. walked forward. "What is that you want?"
"Lorene Tucker!" He threw the name right at her. "I want to see her."
If the Japanese girl was surprised she didn't show it. But she surprised him. "That might be arranged."
"So you've got her." He raised his voice. "By God, I guessed it. You've had her all the time."
She shook her head. "Oh no. I did not say that, Mr. Grinnell."
"What do you mean?"
"Did you not wish to see her?"
"Same thing. I want to know what happened to her."
"I think nothing has happened to her."
Ty was suddenly confused. What was this all about? Nikko was contradicting herself. Or was she? He stared hard at the girl. "Where are you keeping her?"
"With friends."
"You mean...."
"She is not at Rudy's."
He leaned forward. "Then where the hell is she?"
"I told you," Nikko said, and she smiled.
"You mean you've got her hidden?"
"You may say that if you wish."
Nikko didn't seem at all frightened. "I get along very well with the police. If I told them I had never heard of the blonde waitress I think they would believe me."
Ty scowled at her, and shook his head. He felt confused, baffled. He didn't know how to talk to her, how to approach her. He knew men-most men. How they thought, how they reacted. Where they were weak or where they were strong. He could measure women with no trouble-most women. This Japanese girl, however, was something different. She was only pint-sized but he could sense her self-confidence. He had almost shouted at her-and she had smiled. He had sworn at her-but that hadn't affected her. He had threatened her-and she had dared him to call in the police.
He ran his finger through his hair, took a deep breath, and tried again. "Why did you come here, Nikko?"
She wrinkled her nose. "Money."
"Money!"
"What do you mean, money?"
"I think she is worth something-this blonde waitress."
Ty slashed his hand through the air. "She's not worth any money. The cops want her as a witness against Christy Higgins. Or maybe they want to charge her with Ernie's murder. Do you see any money there, anywhere? The cops never put out any money."
"But you want her," Nikko said.
"I want the topcoat she stole from me. That's what I'm after."
The Japanese girl nodded. "Your topcoat is at Rudy's. You may pick it up, anytime. So now, you have no interest in the blonde waitress?"
"Just curious," Ty said. "Where you keeping her anyhow?"
"With friends"
"You mean you still think she's worth money?"
"Possibly."
"Well I'll be damned." Ty said, and he sat down in his chair, leaned back, and stared toward the window. He had found Lorene-but not quite. She had been at Rudy's, but wisely, she wasn't there anymore. Nikko had found a place for her, maybe in "Little Japan". But she might as well be half way around the world. In that clustering part of town which was called "Little Japan", she could have been hidden forever.
Nikko spoke quietly. "You are disappointed in me, possibly?"
"In a way." He looked around at her. "What makes you think so?"
"Money."
"And that's what you're after, huh?"
"Yes, Mr. Grinnell."
"I don't have much."
"I think you have more than I do."
He was studying her, a very small person but extremely neat. Her eyes were very dark, a match to her hair, and her nose was rather good, larger than the average oriental nose. Her lips were perfectly shaped, lightly colored. Her skin had a faint olive tinge. It was probably smooth, warm and entirely pleasant. He spoke suddenly. "Come over here."
"Why?"
"I want to look into your eyes."
"I think you want more than that," Nikko said, and she walked toward him.
She didn't hesitate for a moment, didn't flush, didn't question what he might want. He stood up as she reached him and she walked into his arms as though this was a routine measure. She tilted her head back to be kissed and she leaned against him and lifted her arms, closed them around him.
She really knew how to kiss, too. Her mouth wasn't very large but it knew what to do, her lips clung to his, soft lips, but warm and very much alive.
After a moment he drew away. "Ummm, that was very good."
"A business relationship," Nikko said.
"That didn't seem like that to me."
"I have learned that a business relationship should be very close. Are not we very close?"
"We could do better like have a good fuck."
"Yes, I know."
"Then, what?"
"We will talk about the blonde waitress. And we will talk about my share."
"Did anyone ever tell you that you had a single track mind?"
"Is that not good? When I fuck, I fuck. When I speak of money, I speak of money."
"Then I'm hooked. Is that the idea?"
She laughed softly. "Is it so bad to be hooked with someone like me?"
"Ummm-I don't know. Why don't I find out?"
"You should lock the door," Nikko said practically.
Ty didn't get excited easily. Generally, he didn't get confused. It took something unusual to surprise him. Nikko was doing all those things to him. He was growing excited, she already had him confused, he was more than surprised. The couch in his office had been used before, many times, but on most occasions he had had to work like hell to get his women to screw. Most women resisted a couch. Maybe they didn't mean to, but they acted that way. They struggled, they held back, they gave in reluctantly-then had a good fuck. This Japanese girl was proving to be an exception.
A delightful exception.
Right now, while he was locking his door, she was stripping off her clothing as calmly as she might have done in the privacy of her own room.
Off with sandals, the slacks, the blouse.
Off with the brassiere, the panties.
And that was all there was to that. Nothing else to take off. Standing very straight, her shoulders back, her head erect, she turned to look at him. There was a strange look in her eyes, as though she was appraising him, weighing his reactions.
He grinned at her. "Nice. Very nice."
"Yes, I think I have a very nice body," Nikko said. "But it is a very lonely body-an impatient body."
"I'm worth waiting for," Ty answered.
He got his clothes off and it pleased him that Nikko stood waiting in front of the couch, and that she remained standing until he walked toward her and folded her into his arms. After a moment he lowered her to the couch and lay beside her. It was a real pleasure to kiss her, for she took a part in that, too. He felt her breasts. They were moderately high, perfectly shaped and sized to her body. Not very large, but on her they shouldn't have been large. He had boasted, once that he was a big-tit man, that that was what he wanted in a woman. He didn't mean that, really. Those that were sized to the body, that were firm and high and well nippled, were what he wanted in a woman's tits. Nikko's body couldn't have pleased him more.
He caressed those dark, hard nipples. He changed positions, got his head on Nikko's breast, worked his mouth on those warm mounds, and could feel her reactions. Nikko was a calm, self-possessed person, but she wasn't acting very calm any more. He could sense the torment stirring over her body, stealing into her muscles, pounding through her blood. He reached along her body and he didn't have to reach far. Her hands were busy with him, too. Child-like hands-but knowing hands. It was the easiest thing in the world to get his prick where he wanted it to be-right in her cunt.
She didn't lie quiet for a moment. She moved, twisted, rolled. She was like a mechanical doll with a hundred different sets of springs and heels and ratchets which were clicking in rhythm-and going faster and faster, until suddenly the mainspring broke, the springs fell flat, and the ratchets stopped working. That was where he stopped too, with a damned good crash! He grinned to himself. He was getting pretty good, timing himself, letting loose his hot sperm at the exact, right moment her love-jukes shot from her cunt.
After a moment he relaxed, but he held her closely in his arms. This was an old habit. After making love you held the woman in your arms. She liked that.
But Nikko was different!
She stirred in his arms restlessly.
And she spoke. "I want fifty percent cut of whatever you get out of the blonde waitress."
Ty was startled. He readjusted his thinking. "You want what?"
"A fifty percent cut."
"You're crazy! Where will I get any money out of Lorene Tucker?"
"Well, I don't know. I thought you had a plan."
Nikko sighed, moved away, sat up. "Then as you might say, I suppose that is that. I will dress and go back to Rudy's."
"Just like that?"
"Wasn't this good?"
"Very good, but love is just love. Money is something different."
She got up and started dressing, as casually as though he wasn't watching. That didn't take long either. A moment or two and she was ready. She walked to the door, stopped, looked back. "Good-bye, Mr. Grinnell."
He stared at her. "You mean you're leaving-just like that?"
"Why not?"
"I thought we were partners?"
"That was my thought, but if the blonde waitress has no value, then we have nothing to sell."
"I might work something out," Ty said, "Where is she?"
"With friends," her eyes were laughing. "I think I wUl not tell you, Mr. Grinnell, until I know the score."
"But you've got her?"
"Yes, Mr. Grinnell."
"Is she safe?"
"The police will not find her."
"If I could make a deal ... "
"Make it-then speak to me again. Fifty-fifty, Mr. Grinnell."
"That's unreasonable."
She smiled, shook her head. "Good night, Mr. Grinnell."
She turned unlocked the door, stepped outside and was gone. Ty started to call after her, but he didn't. He got to his feet, locked the door, dressed, then took time to pace the floor, and to weigh what Nikko had said.
It was easy to analyze the problem he faced with respect to Nikko and Lorene Tucker, and it wasn't heartening to him. Nikko knew where Lorene was and could deliver her-but at a price. A high price. Fifty percent. Of course he wouldn't pay fifty percent. He had decided that instantly. He would pay what he called fifty percent, but whatever it was, and as low as it was, putting out any of it to the Japanese girl annoyed him.
He laughed briefly, glanced at his couch. At least, Nikko had been a pleasant experience. She had been more than that. A wonderful fuck-and a challenging proposition. She had been warm in his arms, but when she spoke of money she was cold as ice-and thoroughly heartless. She had taken care of Lorene, had hidden her-now she was selling her. Selling her for a price. He thought sometimes he was pretty bad, but the Japanese girl was ten times as evil. A Judas! That was a good name for her.
An uneasy thought crossed his mind. Could Rudy Estrada have had anything to do with Nikko's visit? That was a possibility-but there was one point against it. Nikko had come here-to his office-where no one could have listened in on their conversation. Very easily, Rudy could have made him meet Nikko in one of his cellar rooms, which could have been bugged. He didn't think Rudy trusted anyone. Since Nikko had come here on her own, it was reasonable to think that Rudy wasn't involved.
At least he hoped he was right about that. He could handle the Japanese girl. Rudy might have been more difficult.
Nikko walked quietly up the street. She spoke to a number of people whom she passed. She was fairly well known in this part of the city. Not liked, and not unliked.
Most of the people who knew her didn't know much about her. She worked for Rudy Estrada, but that didn't prove anything, one way or the other. Rudy, himself, was a mystery to a good many people. Some liked him, used his services, his herbs. Some thought he was cracked.
She passed Tom Riley, but she didn't speak to him. She knew him, and feared him. He had given her and Rudy an uneasy afternoon. She met two patrolmen on the corner, waved to them, and smiled. She walked past Lefty Horst without a glance. She knew him too well.
Rudy was waiting in his office, pacing the floor nervously. A tall, thin, tired man. At times he was kind to her, at times he acted as though she didn't exist. In general, they got along, and in an impersonal manner. For Nikko, it was probably a good thing that he was uninterested in her as a woman. If they could keep their relationship on that basis they would have little trouble.
"Did you see Riley on the street?" Rudy asked.
"I saw him," Nikko nodded.
"Prowling. Always on the prowl I do not like him."
"I think he will accomplish nothing."
Rudy scowled at her. "You spoke with Grinnell?"
"Yes."
"What does he want?"
"The blonde waitress."
"Why?"
"He has not yet told me-but he will. He is very much interested."
"What will he do? Call you?"
"Call-or he might visit. He will want to keep that a secret. He will suggest that we go out for coffee."
"Then go out with him-but slow him down. I want to sell the girl Saturday night."
"We have an agreement," Nikko said calmly. "You are to sell her cunt Saturday night-but I am to suck her afterward."
Rudy's scowl grew deeper. "I don't see why you want to make love to her-she's not much to look at-skinny-"
Nikko shook her head. "She is young, like the morning. Her body and her mind are untainted by the city. One more thing-she is just learning a new kind of love. An experience such as that is always exciting."
"All right-you can have her."
"And the man you are hiding? Christy Higgins...."
"You are not supposed to know he's here."
"He is more danger than Lorene?"
"No. For the police would never guess that Christy Higgins is hidden so near the restaurant. Besides, he is paying very well."
"What is my share?"
"Don't I always share with you? You get the woman, Lorene. You get to suck her body. I will take care of the man, Christy Higgins. And I have collected his money."
"I am still going to move the woman away-after Saturday. There is always a chance the police might search us. If Mr. Grinnell should guess who is staying here-I do not like men such as Mr. Grinnell."
"No. He is not an admirable person."
"I let him fuck me, but that was a business proposition. I thought of him as nothing. When he screwed me, I remembered someone else. I think we must do something about him. He is a real danger."
"He will destroy himself," Rudy said. "He is the kind to hurry his fortune-and to take chances. I think he will not worry us very long."
Nikko nodded. "Perhaps you are right, perhaps he will destroy himself, but I am not sure we should wait."
Lorene slept, and slept, and slept. Now and then she woke up and was clear-eyed, her mind almost razor sharp. But she didn't want to get up, or go anywhere. Nikko might come in. Nikko had become the most important person in her world. There were other times when Lorene awoke-and everything seemed hazy-and horrible nightmares seemed to be crowding in from every side. In her dreams, Jud Stebbins still lived to torture her. With him, sometimes, was Wayne Boland, but she could never see Wayne's face clearly. It was nothing but a bloody smear.
Once, Jud actually came to her bed, and got into the bed with her. Jud-or it might have been Wayne Boland. Whichever it was, he treated her with cruelty. He chewed at her breasts, twisted at them. And then he stuck his prick in her cunt and raped her. She was still screaming when Nikko came in to comfort her.
"He is gone," Nikko said. "He is back outside the door. But we will keep him there and we will wait until he is asleep. And then...."
"I never want to see him," Lorene said.
"You must destroy him," Nikko said. "There is no other way to escape from him. See what I have brought...."
It was a whip-but a strange kind of whip. The handle was about a yard long and was of black leather. Tied to one end were a number of thongs-leather, thongs. These thongs were about as long as the handle and each thong was knotted. Nikko used it, swinging the whip through the air, smacking it against the floor. She did that again and again, and then smiled.
"What's that for?" Lorene asked.
"The man who hurt you. I would cut him to ribbons. Would you not like to do the same-make him pay-make him suffer...."
"Yes, I would like to do that," Lorene said, and she closed her eyes.
"Here," Nikko said "Try it."
"The man's not here."
"You can act as though he were here. I will fix a blanket, roll it up. Wait a moment."
Lorene sat up. She wasn't wearing anything. In bed, she didn't need anything and she had practically stayed in bed since she had been here. Nikko gave her the whip, then rolled up a blanket, placed it on the floor.
"All right," she said. " There he is-the man who hurt you. What are you going to do about it?"
Lorene looked at the whip in her hand. She looked at the blanket roll on the floor and suddenly it seemed like a man's figure. She stood up, used the whip. She swung it into the air, then brought it down. She swung it again and again. She kept on until her arms got too tired to hold the whip.
Nikko took the whip. "That was very good, my darling."
"Am I your darling?" Lorene asked. "Forever and forever."
"Do you have to go away?"
"Not unto you are asleep." Then I will never sleep."
"Ah, but you will," Nikko said. "In a very short time you will go to sleep. But no one shall harm you while you sleep. I promise that you are safe."
Lorene got back onto the bed. She closed her eyes-and struggled to remember something that was on her mind. It was something very important, something vital, something she had remembered when her mind had been clear. It had something to do with the tea she had been drinking. Yes-that was it. There was something strange about the tea-something wrong with it. There were occasions when the tea carried her into a world she had never seen before-a world of color, a world of excitement. She didn't mind that. She loved that. But there were other occasions when the tea seemed to pitch her into fantastic nightmares-when it shoved her into the past-a past she was trying to escape.
Jud was dead. He could never hurt her.
And Wayne was dead. He could never touch her.
Yet-in her dreams they weren't dead. They returned. They hurt her dreadfully. Her body was in torture.
It was the tea which drew her into the past. If she didn't take any more-that was it. She shouldn't take any more. She wouldn't take any more. She would remember that. She would not forget. No more tea. No matter what happened-no more tea.
Someone stirred beside her. It was Nikko. Lorene turned toward her, gathered her into her arms, held her tightly. Then, gradually, she relaxed, stretched out on the bed and sighed. Nikko's bands were on her breasts-soft, gentle hands, healing hands. It was wonderful just to feel them.
She spoke very slowly. "I must tell you something-it is about the tea...."
"You do not like it?"
"There is something about it ... "
"I know what to do," Nikko said. "I will fix it for you myself. How win that be?"
"So that it's just tea?"
"Nothing else, darling. I promise you."
Hugging Nikko's slender body gratefully, Lorene kissed her full on the lips.
"I want to do something for you now, Nikko dear," she murmured.
Her dark hair caressed Nikko, as her head bent to mouth the dark nipples eagerly. As her tongue darted from one erecting nipple to the other, little mewing cries came from Nikko's lips.
Nikko led Lorene's hands to her shapely assheeks and then Nikko uttered louder, ecstatic cries as Lorene began to explore Nikko's cunt-lips and clitoris. Nikko's ass began a swaying response to Lorene's tantalizing rhythm.
Later, still panting, she smiled at the proud Lorene, "You are learning your lessons well, dearest pupil!"
CHAPTER SEVEN
Elbe's naked body recoiled, as she felt Hugh Cameron lurch himself half-drunk into bed beside her. She quickly decided it would be wisest to let him fuck her and perhaps he would fall asleep. Reluctantly, she let him nuzzle and slobber over her breasts as he sucked her nipples.
She wanted to get things over with and began to caress his back and thighs, going to his prick. He roughly cupped her breasts together and tried to mouth both her nipples at the same time. She squeezed close to him and moved rounded belly and full thighs excitingly against his heavy body. This made Hugh reach for her shoulders as he rolled and screwed her, and they were belly to belly, thigh on thigh.
He was panting noisily in lusting desire as his aroused cock throbbed against the smooth skin of her inner thighs. He parted her thighs further with his hand and then Ellie gasped as she felt the full sudden thrust of his prick. She began a rapid rhythmic grind which made him cup her ass to bring her hot cunt even closer.
In spite of herself, Elbe felt a rising tide of passion. She began to writhe as spasms of joyous release swept through her, digging her heels into the small of his back. As he felt her churning beneath him, Hugh groaned and his heavy frame shuddered as he joined her culminating frenzy.
When Hugh's weight rolled off her, he didn't drop off to sleep as she had hoped. He kept growling and nagging at her. It was more than that, however. There was a touch of bitterness in the way he turned on her. He charged that she was no good, either as a wife or a mistress. She was wasteful, expensive, lazy, unfaithful whore. He called her by every ugly name he could find.
Now, he was half sleeping on the bed. But he wasn't really asleep. She had tried to slip away but he caught her, and slapped her until her cheeks were burning. Now she was lying rigid, afraid to move, afraid to try to get away. She heartily wished she had left, fled to Ty's apartment. Now-she might never make it.
The minutes passed. Half an hour-ten minutes more-and something woke Hugh up. He groaned, sat up, looked around, and noticed Ellie. A growling sound came from his throat, then he spit at her and got up. "Damned tramp," he muttered. "Ought to kick you out. Should of kicked you out months ago."
He leaned over, used one of his fists on her, swung it at her head. Ellie screamed-and right through the scream the fist hit her and she lost consciousness.
It was dawn when she awoke-and she was still alive. Amazingly she was still alive. And she seemed to be alone. At least Hugh wasn't in the bedroom. She listened, but couldn't hear him anywhere. She got up, searched the apartment. Apparently he was gone.
He was gone-but she didn't know how long he would be gone. She was afraid of what he might do if she was still here when he got back. As quickly then as she could, she packed a bag. There wasn't time to make good selections. She put in what clothes she could, took her jewel box-and fled. In front of the apartment house she took a taxi.
It was still early, not yet six-and at this hour she knew she couldn't go to Ty's. At least, it wouldn't be wise to go this early. As a temporary stopover, she decided on the Ritz Carlton. The desk clerk hesitated about a room, but then assigned one, and within fifteen minutes she was soaking in a hot tubful of water.
Later, she slept.
It was amazing how good she felt when she woke up. Her breasts were a little sore and there was a few dark bruises on her body. Her face was lightly marked but she could hide those signs under her makeup. She knew she could have been in much worse shape.
She got to Ty's apartment at about five, and he seemed delighted to see her. His kisses were properly ardent, and if he didn't put her to bed promptly, the delay seemed out of consideration for the time they had. They would fuck later, before they left for the party.
They had a drink in the parlor. Ty told her he was waiting for a telephone call. After that they would go out to dinner. A good dinner was important. The party looming ahead might be rather rugged. A good dinner ahead of it would add to their endurance. "I may lose you at the party, for a time," Ty said. "But I don't mean to lose you all evening."
"Ummm you're rather nice," Ellie said. And she kissed him.
That almost took them to bed-but Ty remembered the promised telephone call.
As they were waiting, Ellie talked about Hugh-and what she should do in view of the trouble she faced. She had telephoned home several times. Hugh hadn't answered. He probably hadn't returned and she wasn't sure where he might be. He had several part-time mistresses. One lived somewhere in the Village. This made her a little uneasy about going out for dinner. If she and Ty should run into Hugh and some other woman in one of the Village restaurants, she didn't know what would happen.
"It's a big town," Ty said, and he grinned. "There are hundreds of first class restaurants in New York and there are even dozens in the Village. There isn't much chance of running into Hugh and his girl friend."
She frowned. "Ty, what should I do about him?"
"At least, you can't go home."
"I could get a divorce, but...."
"But what-you could ask for alimony."
"He's worth close to three million-and his heart isn't very good. I don't want you to misunderstand me, but ... "
"You'd like the three million."
"Yes, I'd like it. I think I earned that-last night."
"But what-you could ask for alimony."
Ty walked to the window looked out. It was rather exciting to think of Ellie inheriting three million dollars. That would be a very comfortable sum. Maybe he could move right in-and collect. Of course she didn't have it-just a husband with a bad heart. But how bad a heart? This was something to think about.
"Wasn't there a murder down here the other day?" Ellie asked.
"The one that's been in the nespapers." Ty nodded. "A restaurant owner on the next corner, opposite my office. His name was Ernie Snyder, his head was cut open with a meat cleaver. His Negro cook did the job-a man named Christy Higgins. But he's disappeared. By now he's miles from here. They may never get him."
"Wasn't there something about a blonde waitress?"
"There was a waitress who saw the murder. She's disappeared too."
"Some people get by with murder, don't they!"
He looked around at Ellie, took a slow, thoughtful breath. He could almost see the workings of her mind. She had come to hate Hugh Cameron but she didn't want to walk out, walk away from three million dollars. What about it? How possible was it? A shiver ran down his back.
"On account of his heart, Hugh isn't supposed to go to excess, in any way-food, drink, excitement." Ellie said. "But he pays little attention to his doctor. He over-drinks, eats too much, fucks too much, and he goes to parties like the party we're going to."
"Then all you have to do is wait?" Ty suggested.
"No. He seems to do those things and get by. I'm tired of waiting."
"Don't think about him," Ty said. And he walked toward her and pulled her into his arms. He was in the process of making two decisions. He wanted to keep this woman. He wanted to move into her three million dollars, when she got it. But definitely-very definitely-he didn't want anything to do with murder. He wasn't about to be a chump.
Finally, the telephone rang. It was Ed Carstairs on the other end of the line. Carstairs was a reporter for one of the tabloid sheets. Ty had made a suggestion to him; Carstairs had said he had to check with the editor. This was supposed to be his answer. It wasn't. Someone was stalling.
"The editor said nothing doing," Carstairs stated. "Where is she?"
"I can't tell you," Ty answered. "I want a payoff, first."
"Got to get the story, first. Maybe it's not worth a dime."
"She saw the murder."
"How do you know?"
"She told me so."
"If I could see her."
"Nope, I want a payoff," Ty said flatly. "Think about it. Call me in the morning."
He hung up the telephone-and he wasn't happy at what Carstairs had said. In fact, from the very beginning, this case had gone all wrong. Lorene had come to him, but then had escaped and had vanished. He finally located her-but with her came the Japanese girl, Nikko, who had insisted on a fifty-fifty cut. Now, it would seem that Carstairs was trying to bypass him. This was a sensational case. Lorene Tucker's story should have been of real value to any one of the tabloid nespapers. Carstairs was just a crook. He couldn't figure anything else.
Ellie touched his shoulder. "What's the matter, Ty?"
"A rough spot in the road." He managed to grin. "How about eating?"
"And then ... "
"Fuck."
"And then...."
"The party."
She moved into his arms. "I think you are very nice. Why don't we skip the food?"
That was a wonderful idea. And it was almost a race, to see who could get their clothes off first. After they got to bed, however, it didn't make any difference who was quickest under the sheets. And the idea of hurrying any more was foolish.
Ty took a long time, building up her passions. He had a reason for this. They were going to a party tonight. Who would screw her during the party, or how many, he couldn't guess. She would probably have a hell of a time-a real ball-and if that was true, he wanted her to remember this session in his apartment. For a time, tonight, he would lose her. But he wanted her back. He didn't want anyone else to move into her life.
He kissed her, and kissed her, and kissed her-just as if this was an adolescent necking session. His hands caressed her breasts. He wasn't rough with them. She had been hurt by her husband. His treatment of her would be entirely different. He kissed the bruised nipples very tenderly. His hand was gentle, a slow moving hand, a careful hand gently massaging the large, cherry nipples. Ellie was ready for him, long before he moved to her. By that time, she was running like a machine, ready to go instantly. Her cunt was hot and wet and begging for his prick. She had really become a wild hot number.
It turned out to be a damned good fuck session.
A real screw, that went on, and on, and on....
He thought they'd never get through, but they did, and afterward she lay in his arms, and almost dozed.
Possibly she did. He almost did himself. She was a good fucker-one of the best. She had a rough time but that didn't seem to have hurt her. She was the kind of person he could fuck again, and again, and again, and enjoy-even if there wasn't a three million dollar stake in the picture.
The door buzzer started sounding. It went on and on. Ty couldn't guess who was outside and who wanted to see him-but to hell with any visitors. In time, whoever was at the door would give up and go away.
Ellie stirred in his arms. "Who do you think it is-one of your girl friends?"
"Never," Ty growled.
"Are you going to answer?"
"Why should I? Whoever is at the door will eventually give up, move away."
But it seemed he was wrong. The buzzer kept on droning. Then someone started knocking-then started hammering on the door. Whoever wanted to see him was damned insistant.
He got up, finally, and pulled on his pants.
"What about me?" Ellie asked.
"Just stay there." Ty answered. "It'll take me about ten seconds to handle whoever is at the door."
It took him longer than that. When he answered the door it was Tom Riley in the corridor. The detective was wearing his usual scowl. He looked tired and perspiring, and he moved ahead without waiting to be invited inside.
"What the hell do you want with me?" Ty asked crisply.
"Not much," Riley answered. "Just some straight answers about that blonde waitress. Where is she?"
"How should I know?"
"We picked up Margie King about noon. She talked a little-about a girl who left from here the night Ernie was killed. A blonde wearing your topcoat."
Ty took a deep breath. "I could name fifty blondes...."
"I don't want fifty. Just one. The waitress."
"But I told you...."
"No! Wait a minute," Riley said. "Sometimes I play dirty. You won't like it, but I've learned a few things about you. There's a man down at City Hall. He and you have been working a neat little racket, setting up phony complaints about building code violations. Must have cleaned up ten grand. If I start talking about it ... "
Ty took another breath. He felt suddenly shaky. How did Riley find out about this? What could he do now? If this story hit the street, he was finished in this district. He might even be on his way to court-or on to jail. His skin was clammy, it was hard to think.
"Now, tell me about this blonde waitress." Riley said, and his voice was abruptly harsh. "Where is she?"
"I ... I don't know ... exactly." Ty tried to swallow the thickness in his throat.
"The hell you don't. Spit it out, Grinnell."
"She did come here."
"Why?"
"She wanted help. She wanted me to hide her."
"Why. Is she the one who killed Ernie Snyder?"
"No-but I think she saw the murder. I know she saw it."
"Good, then I want her." Riley said. "Where is she?"
Ty's mind was starting to work again. He was in a jam, and he knew it. It would ruin him if Riley told about the building code gimmick. If he could just make a deal....
He looked at Riley. "If I tell you about the blonde waitress...."
"No deal." The detective shook his head. "Want to go to jail right now? I could take you with me."
"No."
"Then start talking about the waitress. That might get me busy. You're going to be in trouble over this building code graft, anyhow-but that'll take a little time."
"If you would...." There was no escape from him. But there was.
He had a prize package in the bedroom-Ellie Cameron. She was close enough to three million dollars to almost touch it-and he could have her, if he was careful. If he had money, he could fight this graft charge. He could whip it. He wasn't licked yet. Not by three million miles. Of course he would have to spill the dope about Lorene Tucker-but what of it?
He spoke slowly. "The name of the waitress is Lorene Tucker. When she left here she was picked up by Nikko, the Japanese girl who works for Rudy Estrada. For a time she was hidden at Rudy's. I don't think she's there any more, but Nikko knows where she is."
Riley smoothed his hand over his head. "Well, I'll be damned. Rudy's, huh."
"That's where she was-at first."
"Huh. Maybe we ought to take a look at Rudy's?"
Now that he had gone this far, Ty was bitter, vindictive. To hell with Rudy-and the Japanese girl. He made a growling comment. "If you go to Rudy's, take a look in his back rooms. All of his back rooms. Some are pretty well hidden."
"That so?"
"Take a look at some of the so-called herbs which Rudy sells. Pot ... LSD ... I bet you could even get a few papers of H. He's careful about that, but he puts it out."
"Then-maybe we'll take a look. I don't suppose you'll be telephoning Rudy."
"God, no."
"No, I don't believe you will. Want a tip? Move uptown."
"Why uptown?"
"It might be safer."
Ty nodded slowly. It might be a good idea to move uptown. Ellie would appreciate that. She wouldn't like the East Village-and he wasn't about to lose her. Not a pi with a possible three million dollar inheritance.
Ellie had a bath, then dressed, and she would have been willing to have him fuck her again, but Ty wanted to get away. He didn't know how quickly the detective would move. There was a chance he might come back. As it was, he considered himself lucky he hadn't been arrested. That could have happened very easily.
He could breathe better when he and Ellie went to dinner. And he was glad to get to Connie's, in the Village, with no trouble. He was still shaky over his experience with Riley. He was still unsure of the future. His present way of living seemed endangered. The only bright thing in his future, beside his native cunning, was Ellie Cameron. Right now, he didn't have to worry about her. She seemed thoroughly dependent on him-which was perfect.
Connie had a walk-up, top floor apartment. It was a hard climb to get there-four long flights of stairs. But in a way the climb was worth it. For the Village, she had a large place, a veritable barn. It was fixed up as a studio, had a slanting skylight, and was cut up into alcoves by panels and by the way the furniture was set up. Toward the rear were several small rooms, a kitchen and a bath. There was a back porch fire escape and on either side were adjoining roofs. If you had to get away from here in a hurry it might be possible, over the roof to another building.
When they got there you could smell the pot. Marijuana has a distinctive smell. It is hard to disguise. But there were other smells in the huge, dimly lighted room. The smell of bodies, of perfume and powder, and incense. A dozen people must already have arrived. In a quick glance Ty noticed several groups, and several couples. Over to one side a man and woman were already wrestling, impatient to get started. The woman had lost most of her clothes, but she didn't seem to mind. Nor did the man.
Con joined them, drifted in from nowhere. She was wearing a diaphanous robe which couldn't have weighed more than six ounces. It didn't hide her tits. It didn't hide her furry cunt.
"Hello, Con," Ty said. "This is Ellie, if you're interested. She's top drawer stuff."
"Others will be interested," Con said with an apprasing look. "If you're after a quick lift-try the kitchen-but go easy on the pills. They cost money."
"My money," Ty said.
"No, I bought a special act for the night. A good act. Wait until you see it."
"Any rules for the evening?"
"One. You lose your woman right away. I'm trying to gather them up now." Then what?"
"It's up to you-grab what you want and protect yourself in the clinches. You'd better be careful of your clothes too."
Con took Elbe's arm and they walked on. Some man pulled up beside him and said, "Wish I had a camera." Ty grunted, "Why?"
"This becomes quite a brawl. No holds barred, either for men or for woman. If one of the women chooses your cock, then shell either get it, or you'll have to fight her off. How long do you think your clothes will last?"
"Not long. Maybe I better get rid of them."
"Down to your shorts, anyhow."
A brawl is a brawl is a brawl. They are all the same and they are all different. Different people and different stunts but after all the same thing in the end. The theme never varies. A blast-off party! a smasheroo! Leave your inhibitions behind. Take out all the stops. Cut loose completely. If you feel like an animal, act like an animal, the woman you're with is probably as much like an animal as you. If you feel like a gentleman, then be a gentleman, a loose gentleman. If you feel mean, act mean, the woman you claw will undoubtedly claw back. Hit the level you want. If it is to be low, then dig low. You won't be alone when you get to the bottom-if there is a bottom. If you want to reach high, then try some pot, or peyote, or whatever there is. Reach for excitement, you'll find it. Reach for something new, it's not far away. Variety is infinite. No two women were ever the same. No two men are duplicates.
The couple he had noticed were now naked and were screwing, but it was the woman who was doing most of the work, squealing like a pig. Her legs were wrapped around his back and she was heaving her cunt and ass like a piston at his massive prick. The man who was fucking her was grunting. They were putting on quite a show. A circle of people had gathered around watching the fuck act.
Ty took another look around the room. Connie, with a little help, was gathering most of the women into the middle of the room, but some would never make it. Some were already screwing with some man and didn't want to be interrupted. Ellie was with those in the middle of the room. He couldn't see the way her eyes were glowing, there wasn't enough light for that, but he could imagine her excitement. She could hardly wait for things to get started. He was going to have a problem holding her. But he ought to be able to manage for a time-if he -lined up more parties-if he wasn't too strict.
More women were gathered in the middle of the room, and now, in an irregular circle, were a dozen men. A good many like Ty, were down to their shorts. Two were as bare as when they had been born. One was an old duffer, bald but with a fringe of iron gray hair below the bald spot. He was shouting to Veronica that here he was and she'd better be careful. He couldn't guess who Veronica was. Staring at the clustered women he noticed that quite a few were down to their slips. A few were naked, their tits and cunts exposed for all to see.
Maybe there was a signal to move in, but Ty didn't hear it. More likely, someone got impatient and started for the women, and the other men followed. He stayed right with the others, plunged into the brawling crowd. He heard a chorus of cries, women squealing, or laughing, giggling. Men laughing and shouting. It might have been that a few men grabbed the women they wanted, and dragged them away, but most didn't. At least, not at first. To begin with the whole mob seemed to be on the floor in a tangle of bodies. He heard the sound of tearing cloth. Part of that he contributed to. He fell against a woman, tall, slender and strikingly beautiful. Her tits were covered by a slip, but one jerk and the slip went. He grabbed her and they went to the floor and he started kissing her. He didn't have any idea who she was, she probably didn't know him, but that wasn't important. Her mouth was like a furnace. Her tits were as big and as firm as he could have wanted, but even as he started sucking her nipples someone in the crowd pulled down his shorts, and clutching hands grabbed at his prick. That wasn't the woman he was kissing. Some other woman was cutting in.
He pulled away, looked around. It was a blonde. Veronica, maybe, for it was the old duffer who was fucking her cunt. He was cackling like a rooster. Beyond him two men were brawling over another woman's cunt, dividing her. All around him, this was the scene, a mixture of bodies, most of them nude, and tangled up in every possible way. He saw one man who had his head on the huge nipple of one woman. But each of his hands was busy with two other women's cunts. He was really going to town.
The old duffer saved him, pulled Veronica away, pulled her head down onto his lap. He was still cackling. But Ty forgot about her, and for a time, forgot about everyone else around him except this woman he had blundered against. She was young, her body was warm. Her legs were hard muscled. She was ready for him, quickly, and she really loved his prick. He had been a part of the crowd, in a mess of bodies, but suddenly, now, this had become and individual matter, an experience he was sharing with only one person. The sensations of his body were his own, drawn and shaped by the woman who fucked with him, and she clung to him fucking him and screwing him just as he was fucking her.
Work this up high, and then let go.
Higher and higher and higher-don't let go yet.
Build to the top-the top of the top-and stay there then shoot your load.
That was one of the best fucks he had ever had. They were on the hard floor and there were people all around them, but that made no difference. There was noise all around them but who cared. Ty sprawled beside her, and after a moment he spoke. "Wha's your name?"
She had a low voice. "Who cares?"
"Just curious. I want to remember you."
"There'll be others."
"Not as good as you."
She seemed amused. "You must be very young. A hundred times you will say, this is the best. For the moment this is-the very best. But tomorrow and with someone else, fucking might be better."
"I doubt that. What should I call you?"
"Louisa."
"Is there another name?"
"No."
"Where could I find you again?"
"Who knows? Follow the wind-I do." He lay beside her, thinking of what she had said. A man stood above them. A tall, thin man, dark-skinned. He had black curly hair, and he was young. He reached down toward Louisa. "My turn."
"We're busy," Ty said quickly. "Come back next year."
But Louisa surprised him. She reached up to take the man's hand and she said, "Share and share alike. This is a democracy, remember?"
The man pulled her to her feet, then led her away toward the deeper shadows of the alcoves along the wall.
Ty watched them leave. He thought half angrily, that the man who was now fucking her could probably keep screwing her for a long time-back in the darkness. He should have thought of that himself. Of course, at a party like this, you were supposed to spread yourself around, but if you found someone like Louisa-then to hell with the rules.
A woman crawled toward him-the blonde-Veronica. She was a little chunky and he had a notion she was no longer young, but that was just an impression. She spoke suddenly. "Hello, there. You look interesting."
She was taking no chances. She practically lunged at him, carried him down to the floor. Her breasts were soft, flabby, but they were big enough.
"What's happened to Grandpa's cock?" Ty asked.
"A little worn out."
"So is mine," Ty grinned.
"No, not you." The blonde said. "At least, I'll find out."
Her breasts were in his face, and one of her hands was prowling his body. Ty could guess just what was going to happen. In a little while Veronica was going to get back to where she had been, earlier in the evening. The duffer had pulled her away but she had had come back. A leech-that's what she was, and it wouldn't be easy to get away from her.
He said, "Hey, Veronica-give me a minute or two. Don't rush me."
She was holding him possessively. Her laugh had an eerie sound. "Don't worry about me. I won't hurry you. Well take all kinds of time."
She was moving around, changing positions. Ty thought of pushing her away-but he didn't. Hell-this was a part of the evening, wasn't it? Why fight anything.
Ty got away finally. He headed for the kitchen. On a table, there was some whiskey, but it didn't look as though it had been used. Also on the table were a dish of reefers and a bowl of pills. He picked out three orange colored pills, and gulped them. They would be strong enough to give him an edge. He would need them before the evening was over. He didn't touch the pot, or the whiskey. Either one slowed you down. Someone else could have the whiskey or the pot.
He found two other rooms-bedrooms, probably, but they were locked. Through one of the doors he could hear voices and the sound of bouncing springs, and it hit him that Connie was in there getting fucked. Damn it, she had escaped him thus far-but she wouldn't escape for the rest of the evening. She wouldn't stay in the bedroom forever. He would keep an eye on those bedroom doors.
Someone blundered against him, but then walked on-a man. He looked vaguely familiar. As he turned to the kitchen the light hit his face-and Ty caught his breath. Hugh Cameron! He shook his head numbly. This was an impossibility-but of course it wasn't. He should have guessed that Hugh might be here. He had a mistress in the Village. He went for excitement. What would happen if Hugh and Ellie ran into each other?
That was a hell of a nice question.
If Hugh and Ellie met each other, they might do nothing.
Or there might be an explosion.
Ty looked around. He didn't have any idea what had happened to Ellie. By this time she might have been fucked by a fourth of the male population of the room, and might be working toward the halfway mark. He doubted that she would want to leave. He ought to warn her, at least, to keep in the shadows where Hugh wouldn't find her. To warn her, however, he first had to find her, and that might not be easy.
Someone clicked on a soft spotlight. It brightened one of the back corners of the rooms where a platform had been set up. On the platform was a rug, and dancing on it was a thin, slender girl of about eighteen. She had long black hair, but no other covering. She was doing a senuous dance, her body twisting, turning, dipping. Her dance got faster and faster and faster. How many were watching Ty didn't know, but this girl was good-and God what a body-perfectly shaped. A golden girl-colored gold by the spotlight. She whirled to a stop, seemed to droop-and out of the shadows came two young men. They swept toward her, lifted her into the air, carried her around the platform, then lowered her to the carpet. They worked on her body as though they were trying to revive her-and they succeeded. Her body started turning, twisting, jerking, rolling from side to side-and in the space of an instant the dance had switched into the area of the flesh. There were two heads down on her breasts, sucking her nipples, four hands reaching for her. All three rolled into a mixture of legs, arms and hands.
Ty could hear people breathing heavily. He heard some man swearing softly. But there wasn't much sound. Most people were watching-watching-watching. Without much question, an exhibition like this would stir up the prick of the average jaded libido. This would add more spice to what each was doing. Ty wondered if this was the top drawer show which Connie had mentioned. If so, he was a little disappointed. He had seen this type of show before. It wasn't unique.
Hugh Cameron had returned from the kitchen, had probably seen most of the show on the platform. A big man, tall, wide shouldered, but he was fat, too. His stomach was bloated. His legs were thick. He might have weighed two-fifty-a hundred of it blubber.
Two woman walked past Ty, but neither was Ellie. He squinted into the darkness wondering where Ellie was. One of the bedroom doors opened. He noticed who came out, and was vaguely amazed. It wasn't Connie Hall. It was Nikko! The Japanese girl. Thin, girlish in figure. It ran through his mind to ask what she was doing here-but after all, this was quite a mixed group. Why shouldn't she be here.
The scene on the stage was over-the spotlight had been turned off. Hugh Cameron had stopped a woman. She started to walk on but Hugh grabbed her, pulled her to the floor. The woman started to struggle but she stopped. It was easier not to fight. At this kind of party you never counted the number of times you got fucked.
* * *
Lorene didn't want to wake up. Nikko was shaking her, trying to arouse her. It had become part of her pattern to do whatever Nikko wished, but her dreams had been beautiful, a riot of colors. She didn't want to leave her world of color.
But Nikko was insistent, and finally Lorene gave up, and opened her eyes to a vague state of reality. Of course, it was hard to realize, any more, what was real and what wasn't. Most of the time, it seemed, she was in a foggy land which had little substance. It had occurred to her that maybe she was ill-maybe she had been ill for a long time. She was fed occasionally, and she had tea....
Tea-why was it she didn't like tea any more? She was drinking some now. She was holding it in her hand, sitting on the edge of the bed. Nikko had just given it to her.
"That will make you stronger," Nikko said. "We are going outside for a time. We are going to make a short automobile trip."
"Where?" Lorene asked.
"To see some friends. Then we will go to my house."
"Your house?"
"My apartment. You will love it. It is very quiet and peaceful-and I will be home with you nearly every night."
Lorene wasn't sure she was thinking. She sipped the tea. It was warming. It woke her up a little. It made her feel better. She remembered abruptly that she hadn't meant to drink any more tea, but it seemed she was always forgetting.
Nikko helped her dress ... It was a new dress. Nikko probably bought it. Then a young man came in to help her through the door, up a long corridor, through more doors, and into the early gray of the evening. An automobile was at the curb. Another moment and they were driving along the street, going somewhere.
Nikko was with her, of course, and now she asked, "How do you feel, darling?"
"Strange," Lorene said. "As though I was half in a fog."
"But you know me?"
"Nikko! Of course I know you"
"Can I ask you something, darling? Something painful?"
"Anything."
"You remember the two who hurt you? You remember Jud ... and Wayne...."
"They are dead."
"But there are men just like them. Darling, what would you do if you saw Jud hurting me?"
"What would I do?"
"Do not worry. We will probably not meet him." The car stopped, and started, and stopped and started, crawling through the evening traffic. Lorene didn't notice where it was going. She didn't know these streets, anyhow. The car stopped again and Nikko and the man who had helped her, helped her again when she got out. They entered a building, started climbing stairs. They climbed and climbed and climbed. It seemed they would never stop-but they did. They entered a large room, then went to a small room. There was a bed in it. Lorene threw herself across it-and fell asleep.
After a time she awoke again, Nikko was with her. She was holding out the inevitable cup of tea. Lorene didn't even think about it as she drank from the cup. The tea was warm, bracing-and a little bitter. It helped her too. Cleared out some of the shadowy areas of her mind. It made her feel steady.
"Darling. Darling, are you awake?" Nikko was asking. "Of course I'm awake."
"I am going to dance. You have never seen me dance."
"Yes, I will like that," Lorene said.
There was no argument about that. Certainly she would like Nikko's dancing. She had never met anyone like her-so kind-so flower-like.
"Come." Nikko said. "I want you near me."
She got up and they walked to the door, and she was surprised at how much taller she was. It didn't occur to her that she was undressed. She was almost getting accustomed to being nude.
They went into the next room. It was a rather large room-very much like a room in her dreams. A shadowy room, nothing in it very well defined. Vague figures moved through it, but they didn't seem to have any substance. She could see some of them, but not clearly. They could have been real, they could have oeen imaginary. She had been living in a world which was real, but unreal. She had not escaped from it-the world of fantasy.
On a platform just ahead and to the side, Nikko was dancing. A spotlight showered around her, outlining her movements. Nikko was swaying from side to side, turning, twisting. She circled the platform, then suddenly some man appeared behind her. He followed her, caught her, hurled her to the floor. He leaped at her, and started fucking her. Nikko struggled against him, but could not escape. The man was too powerful Nikko gave a pitiful cry-a cry for help.
Someone handed Lorene the whip. It was the man who had driven them here in the car-one of Rudy's men. He whispered harshly in her ears. "Go help her. Quickly. Before it is too late."
He even gave her a shove toward the lighted platform. That hadn't been necessary. Lorene blinked her eyes, blinked them again, peered at the man stooping above Nikko. He was a big man, heavy ... He was a man she knew-and hated. He was a man who was dead-but had taken on shape and appearance of Jud Stebbins. Usually she was the one who was being tortured, but this time it was Nikko who was in danger. Nikko! That was wrong, and she was in love with Nikko. She had to do what she could to help her.
She was suddenly strong, steady, self-confident. Half a dozen quick steps and she was on the platform. The man she hated was crouching near Nikko. His body was protecting her but there was no one to protect him. Lorene swept the whip into the air, and then she brought it down.
The man screamed hoarsely.
Lorene raised the whip into the air again-and she brought it down, hard and cuttingly. She raised it again, brought it down. She used it again-and again-Suddenly the big man whirled and snatched the whip away from her. He threw it in a corner and pushed the naked Lorene on the floor. As she tried to rise, his powerful arms pushed her shoulders down until her back was on the floor. The man kneeled next to her and grabbed her up-thrust breasts in his big hands. He began to squeeze and knead them with brutal power, unheeding of Lorene's cries.
His small eyes shone as his mouth reached for her ripe-chewy nipples. He let his tongue play with their delicious perfection, then he laughed and bit down on them hard. As she felt his teeth, Lorene cried out again, and this seemed to rouse his lust to a throbbing, demanding pitch. His knees parted her thighs and she felt her breasts flatten against his chest. The next moment his huge, hot prick was thrusting into her wet cunt. Instinctively, her thighs and ass rolled in rhythm with his pounding cock.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Lorene didn't hear the smattering of applause, the laughter and remarks of Rudy's guests who had been avidly watching the lust drama on the platform. Her "lover" relaxed his grip for a moment as he rolled his powerful frame off her prone body. But as she tried to rise, he leered at her and kept her on her back with one huge hand on her shoulder.
Lorene's breasts began to heave as she panted heavily as his hands slid under her thighs and cupped her quivering asscheeks. She parted them somewhat, revealing her cunt to his fascinated gaze. Then his thick lips plunged to mouth her open twat.
Lorene's head tossed as she moaned happily with engulfing joy while his head bobbed between her writhing thighs. Her cries became shrill as her body flexed in the grip of overwhelming spasms of sheer bliss as she had a tremendous "come".
Nikko my darling, that was wonderful I'll always be yours...."
Lorene opened her eyes, and when she realized that it wasn't Nikko who had sucked her cunt, she sprang to her feet. With cat-like fury, she seized the whip and began using it on the leering man.
Ty Grinnell, who was watching the "performance" had never seen anything like the unleashed fury of the girl. Bitter and angry-a whip in her hand. And God, how she used it.
Her hair had been dyed-an easy operation. But to shape her to a stunt like this had taken the skill of Rudy Estrada-or, more accurately-the herbs he used-the poison-the dope. Right now, most likely, Lorene didn't know what she was doing. Or maybe she thought she was in a dream.
Rudy Estrada-the poisoner!
He was glad he had sent the police after him.
Temporarily, Lorene had escaped. She was here. But if the police didn't find her at Rudy's they would keep after Nikko, hot and heavy. In a way that was regrettable, but he couldn't help what had happened. When you're in a corner you have to fight back.
Lorene was still using the whip, but suddenly another woman appeared on the platform, rushed toward her, and started struggling for the whip. Without any question, most of the people in the room must have thought that this was a part of the act. But it wasn't. Ty knew that instantly. What was happening, right now, had not been planned. This was an extra. The new woman in the platform wasn't one of Rudy's crowd. She was one of the guests. His guest-Ellie Cameron!
He watched, fascinated, as Ellie rushed from the platform-and he could guess where she was going. After Hugh! She must have seen him. He had been circulating around. He might easily have passed her. Right now, Hugh was off to the side with a dusky-skinned girl, but she scrambled away as Ellie rushed that way. "Pig!" Ellie screamed as she reached Hugh's side, and swung the whip. "Pig! Pig! Pig!"
The first cut of her whip went around his head-and it was a hard, slashing blow. It must have blinded him momentarily. It could have if she had struck across his eyes-and that was possible. But then the whip streaked into the air again-and went down. And again.
And again.
Ellie was screaming with every blow. She was out of her mind in her bitterness, in her anger, in her vengeance. He had hurt her-she was getting even She was through with him, anyhow. She wanted to get rid of him. This was a good way to do it.
"Pig!" She screamed and she swung the whip.
"Pig!" and she used the whip again-and again-and again.
Hugh huddled on the floor. His back was a bloody mess. He had started, once, to get up-but the whip cut him down. He had cried out several times, but he wasn't crying any more. He lay there motionless-as though he was unconscious-or dead.
She said something under her breath, threw the whip on top of-im, and turned away, walked into' the deeper shadows of the room, probably sat down.
The party went on.
Two men carried away Hugh's body, took him into one of the bedrooms, closed the door.
No one said anything publicly about him.
But Nikko talked to Ty about him, and Connie did later, and so did Ellie.
Nikko was the first. She spoke to him half defensively. "We did not plan anything like this. The woman who took the whip-that was her own idea. I think she must have hated the man she whipped."
"How is the man?" Ty asked.
"I do not know, I presume he will be cared for."
"And, Lorene...."
"You guessed it was her? I thought the hair might deceive you."
"She was doped?"
"Yes, but I must explain why this was done. Lorene belonged to Rudy. To get her away from him I had to agree to this party. The special tea which Lorene took has not harmed her-and after tonight she will have no more. She will be with me."
"With you?"
"Yes, I have another nature."
"You're no Lesbian."
"But I am-when I am with another Lesbian."
"And Lorene...."
Nikko smiled. "It was not hard to change her. She has become a wonderful woman fucker."
"I thought you wanted to see her?"
"Rudy wanted to know why you were interested in her. That is why I went to see you. I would never have sold her."
"You let me screw you."
"That did not hurt me. Good-bye, Mr. Grinnell. I must join Lorene. We are on the way to my apartment, now. You do not know where it is. I think you will never find it."
As Nikko disappeared, he forgot about her. And he forgot about Lorene. Neither was important any more. He might have made a little money on Lorene, but that scheme hadn't worked out. She had become a lesbian and her life would be involved with Nikko fron now on. So let it go. Much more important to him was Ellie Cameron-but God-that scene he had just witnessed left him shaky. He knew he would never forget the way she had used a whip on her husband-but more vividly he would remember her marching purposely from the platform to where Hugh had been lying. She had looked more than an amazon. She had been like one of the Greek Furies. In pictures they were giant-like, female figures with serpent hair-evengers-unmerciful-cruel-Yes, Ellie Cameron was one of the Furies.
He finished half of the cigarette, decided that was enough, put out the fire and saved the butt for someone else-left it on the edge of the plate. After that, he returned to the main room. He had three things now in mind. He was curious about Hugh Cameron, how badly he had been hurt. He wanted to find Ellie, reestablish himself in her mind. And he didn't want to miss Connie Hall ... Damn, she had escaped him too long. He had a notion that when she got cunt-twitchy she really exploded, but the only way to be sure was to screw her. And to fuck her, apparently he was going to have to corner her-somewhere. That might not be easy. He had hardly caught a glimpse of her all evening.
He prowled the front room. Veronica, the hungry blonde, was still hot for cock, but she had had him once and that was enough. He shoved her away, and left her.
He tried to remember which way Ellie had headed after leaving her husband. He stumbled across a couple fucking as if they're life depended on it. They didn't see him-didn't know that he was watching, they were so far gone in ecstasy. He moved on-and stopped-aware of a woman's querulous voice. It sounded like Ellie. It was. She was sprawled in the powerful black arms of Dale Hall, Con's husband. Most likely they had fucked quite a bit-but their screw session was over. At least in Ellie's mind, that was over. She wanted to be left alone, and she said so.
"Hell with you," Dale said, and he got up, and left.
Ty dropped down near the woman. "Hi there, Ellie."
Her voice was low. "Do I know you?"
"I'm Ty."
"Who's Ty? Typhoon!" She started laughing.
"I'm the man who brought you here," Ty said.
"Did someone bring me-then who brought my husband-the stinker-But I got to him, anyhow, before he got to me."
"Do you remember what you did to him?"
"Someone gave me a whip. I used it on him. Pig!"
He touched her breasts lightly and wondered vaguely how many men had pawed and sucked them tonight. Then he grinned at himself. He had had plenty of tits to suck and cunts to fuck himself.
"Who did you say you were?" Elbe asked.
"Ty Grinnell. You remember me."
"Ummm. I like you, don't I?"
"Very much."
"I haven't been very faithful."
"You mean you've been fucking around?"
"A little."
"I might forgive you." He moved his hand on her body. He was about to pay a little attention to her, for that was important. Three million dollars ran into money.
"What are you doing?" Ellie asked.
"I'm looking for something," Ty said.
"Can I help, too?"
"Why not?"
Ty moved over to her, and thought, three million bucks. For that kind of money I can forget Connie-for a week or two I can forget everyone else. This time I won't be cheated. This time I'm going to collect.
He fucked her with all his might and made her come three times in a row and she seemed satisfied. She lay in his arms, possibly dozing, or more possibly in the haze of a stupor.
She finally spoke. "Ty? You're my Ty, aren't you? I mean-I know you don't I?"
"Of course you do."
"I think you're the best fucker here tonite. God, what a huge prick you've got. I want to keep you around."
"I intend to be around."
"What about Hugh?"
"Forget about him."
"I meant to hurt him."
"I know."
"I'll never hurt you."
"Maybe I ought to find out about him."
"I don't want you to leave."
"I won't be gone very long," Ty said.
He drew away, sat up looked around. Was it an impression, or had some of the people left? It was early to leave a party-a party like this one. Nikko, Lorene, and the two men with them had left. He had noticed that earlier, but they were entertainers, that could be their explanation. They would have left anyhow, but why would anyone else have fled? Fled?
He was still looking from side to side. A number of people were still her. Most were here-but in spite of that he could smell danger. It was in the very air he was breathing. It was like some faint echo in his ears, the sound not quite clear-but menacing. He got up, started across the room....
"Ty!" It sounded like Con's low, throaty voice. "Ty. Just a moment."
He turned toward her, took her in his arms, held her tightly, and damned if it wasn't nice to operate like this, no clothes in the way, no clothes to fight. He could feel the hard pressure of her breasts against his chest, her bushy twat against his thighs.
He said, "Con, I've been waiting for this all evening."
She shook her head. "We've got to talk."
"No. Later."
"We've got to talk-now," Connie said. "I've been waiting for you. Dale's in the bedroom."
"Dale-who gives a damn about Dale?"
She still shook her head. "Even I don't-usually. But tonight is different," She lowered her voice. "Hugh Cameron is dead."
That hit him-made him take a quick, deep breath. But he wasn't startled. He had half expected that. He even wanted that. This threw a fortune into Ellie's lap-and who else was there? Why he was there, on the receiving end. At least-that was what he was hoping for.
He said, disgustedly, "Why did you ever bring him?"
"Hugh?" She shrugged. "I've known him a long time. He gets around. He likes parties like this. But I didn't know-I didn't know you were bringing his wife."
"She likes parties, too. Wasn't that a scene!"
"But not for here."
"That's the way it happened. What are you going to do about-about Hugh's body?"
"Dale says it can be carried over the roofs to a place where we can lower it to the ground, get it into a car. He knows where to leave him-but he needs help."
"Me?"
"Who else, Ty? You brought her here."
"Find your clothes and get dressed," Con ordered.
"You and Dale, shouldn't be gone too long."
"But I'm missing your cunt," he muttered.
"Pussy'll be here when you get back."
"What about her?" he pointed toward Elbe.
"She'll be all right," Con said, and she laughed. "There are maybe a couple of men who haven't fucked her. I'll see they get a chance."
"You might leave her alone."
"Why? Or shouldn't I ask? She's going to be a wealthy woman."
Ty didn't say a thing, but he was wondering what was going on in Con's mind. She was hard, brittle woman, she had come up the hard way, she could figure angles like an expert. Ellie was going to inherit money-from a husband she had killed. That set her up for blackmail beautifully. Con couldn't help but see the possibilities.
But one thing stood in the way.
He did-Ty Grinnell.
Ellie was going to fall right into his lap.
"I'll go and help Dale," he said gruffly. "But I'm doing it for you, Con-and for no one else. We don't want any scandal falling on your head. Soon as I come back I'll get Ellie Cameron away."
Con looked at him frowning, then said, "Yes, go and help Dale."
Ty grunted. He didn't say anything out loud, but he was remembering his glimpse of Ellie lying in Dale's arms being fucked by him and he thought, Why would she ever screw him-when I was around? He shook his head angrily. Until he and Ellie could get married-no more parties like this.
Marriage and he didn't like marriage. But to marry three million bucks-that was something different.
They carried Hugh's body across two roofs, down an alley fire escape. They got him into Dale's car, drove south, got rid of the body and returned. They didn't try to hide it. By morning he would have been found-but it would take a little time to identify him.
When they got back, they found Con in the bedroom, lying there alone. In the main room of the apartment, half of the people were still screwing. Some had left-worried-but a good many didn't seem to care.
"Where's Ellie?" Ty asked.
Con smiled, waved toward the main room. "She's being fucked, but plenty. I told you not to worry about her. If you tried to satisfy her, you wouldn't last a week."
"I'll worry about that."
"You've got another worry," Con said. "I suppose you mean to hang on to Ellie Cameron."
"In a way," Ty nodded.
Con sat up. "Then, we want a piece of her, Dale and I. A great big piece."
Ty shook his head. "Nothing doing."
"Either we get a piece or the police receive some very interesting photos in tomorrow's mail."
"That's a bluff," Ty said sharply.
"I'll show you the pictures tomorrow," Con said. "Fifty per cent. How's that?"
Ty stared at her.
"She's got plenty. Why are you worried?" Con went on. "I haven't got anything-yet."
"But you will-and if there's trouble, pour in a little more H. Did you know she was hooked-or at least, on the way? Dale gave her a fix right after she got here. She asked for one."
Possibly that was one way to control her. But there might be others. To hell with Connie and Dale. Why share this fortune with them? If they had a picture of Ellie standing above Hugh he might have to buy it-but not for fifty per cent.
He spoke slowly. "I'm going to pick up Ellie-and get her home. Any objection?"
Dale grinned, and nodded. He was letting her run the show.
To hell with him.
And to hell with Connie's cunt-as delightful as it was.
He picked up Ellie-and that wasn't easy. She didn't want to leave. She said she was just starting to enjoy herself. Ty found her clothes and made her get dressed. It rather pleased him the way he could give her orders-and the way she obeyed. He was finally going to make it. Money! Big money. He had never been so excited in his life. He took her straight to his apartment, undressed her and put her in his bed.
He had a drink and as he was pulling off his clothes, the telephone started ringing. He answered, but didn't recognize the thick voice on the other end of the wire. "Grinnell, I've been trying to reach you."
"Yes," Ty said, "What is it?"
"Want to talk to you."
He frowned at the telephone. "Who is it?"
"Gabe Blaney."
Blaney. The politician, if you wanted to be polite. The gangster if you wanted to be more honest. A member of the syndicate. A big-shot hood. But he had few contacts with him. This telephone call surprised him.
"What is it, Blaney?" he asked, still frowning. "Have you seen the newspapers, Grinnell?"
"No. Why?"
"The police hit Rudy's, last night. They cleaned out the place. They found Christy Higgins hiding in one of the back rooms."
"Christy Higgins?" He was actually startled. He had imagined that Higgins would be miles from here. He had figured the police might pick him up-but in some other city. Not here. Not in a room less than a block from Ernie's restaurant.
"Christy put up a fight," the voice on the telephone was saying. He shot it out with the police. They got him."
"I ... I didn't know he was at Rudy's," Ty said.
"We didn't want him caught," Blaney said. "We liked him a lot. If he killed Ernie, then Ernie had it corning. It's too damned bad ... what happened to Christy."
Ty took a quick deep breath. "I didn't talk to the cops."
"That's a damned lie," Blaney said quietly. "But it isn't...."
"We know who talked," Blaney said. "We got it straight. You are the one who fingered the raid-and Christy is dead"
"I tell you I didn't have anything to do with it," Ty said, and he was beginning to get angry. "I didn't talk to the cops. Get off my back!"
"You'd better come and see me, Grinnell."
"Like hell," he snapped back. And he hung up the telephone.
Almost instantly, it started ringing again.
Ty piled some pillows on top of the telephone, to smother the sound. He thought, to hell with Blaney. And to hell with Christy Higgins. If he had killed Ernie, and the cops caught him, what else should anyone expect?
He headed for the bathroom, took three sleeping pills, then collapsed on the bed. It was late in the afternoon when he awoke.
That should be enough to clear him with Blaney. He hadn't sent the cops to Rudy's to pick up Christy Higgins. It wasn't his fault that Christy had gone there. Why in the hell didn't that telephone stop ringing?
It did stop ringing, briefly. But then it started again.
Connie worried him more than anyone else. Connie was hard, and capable-and hungry for money. She would try to cut in on Elbe's money. He might have a problem with her, but in some way or other he would handle her.
The one big rosy spot in his life-was Ellie. With Hugh Cameron dead, she was in the money. And if she was in the money, so was he. He had met her at the proper time. He was holding her at the proper time. In his own apartment-in his own bed. Not another woman this time. A three million dollar woman. She didn't look like much, right now, but that money was beautiful. Very, very beautiful.
She groaned, opened her eyes, looked at him. "Ty?"
"Yes, dear."
"I feel like hell."
"You're supposed to feel like hell after a hang-up binge."
"I'm sore all over. My head's about to split open."
"I've got something that might help." Her eyes blinked. "You ... you mean...."
"No, I can't give you a fix."
She moistened her lips. "Then you know ... I don't use that regularly. Just now and then-at a party or something-or when I'm upset. Do you know where I can get one?"
"I don't know." He scowled at the ceiling.
"Dale would give me a fix. He said he would-any time I needed one. You know Dale. He was at the party."
"Yes, I know him."
"You could telephone him."
"You really need one?"
She touched his shoulder. "Just this one time, Ty. There's another reason. I keep remembering what I did at the party. I'll ... I'll never be able to go back to Hugh. Never...."
He drew away and said, "I can get you a fix-closer than Dale's. I'll have to go after it. It'll take about ten minutes."
"You'll do that for me?"
"Of course."
"If you could get an extra one ... just for an emergency?"
"I'll take care of it," Ty said.
He got up, got dressed, glanced around. It was growing dark. When he had dozed a little while ago he had slept longer than he had thought. Night wasn't far off.
The telephone was ringing again. He marched toward it, pushed the pillows away, and answered it "Hello! Hello! What the hell do you want this time?"
"Mr. Grinnell...." It wasn't Blaney on the telephone but it might as well have been. "Mr. Grinnell, we don't like what you done. We don't like it when you talk to the cops. Christy Higgins is dead on account of you."
Ty almost exploded. "I didn't split anyone's head open. I didn't have anything to do with what happened. Furthermore, if I get any more phone calls a lot of my hidden files are going to turn up on the D.A.'s desk tomorrow. And I'm not kidding. Tell that to Blaney!"
He slammed down the telephone.
"What was all that about?" Ellie asked.
"Nothing." He shook his head. We won't be bothered again. Just relax and I'll be back shortly."
"You'll be right back?"
"As soon as I can make it. Ten minutes."
Elbe was smiling. "Ty, I think I love you. After you get back I'm going to fuck you until you scream for mercy. Hurry back-hurry back-hurry back-"
He went outside, turned down the street. It wasn't yet dark but night was on the way, gray shadows crowding the street. Sunday nights there weren't many people around. Some, who lived here, were outside, but there weren't many, and most of the business houses were closed.
Ellie was lying on the bed. She raised herself to a sitting position, her naked breasts giggling with every movement.
"How come you're back this quick, Ty?" she asked anxiously.
"Lie back, relax, and I'll tell you all about it," he smiled confidently at her as he stripped.
Ty swung his lithe muscular body easily into the bed, and embracing Elbe's waist drew her down beside him. As he gazed at the tantalising curves of her tits, he could see her large crimson nipples beginning to erect in jutting desire. Ty liked Elbe's quick response to him, her full smooth thighs and ass were already undulating in pleasant anticipation.
He eagerly mouthed her abundant, yielding breasts, his flicking tongue making the nipples even more stiffly erect between his lips. His dark hair contrasted against the creamy whiteness of her lovely belly as his mouth nibbled her waist and then her navel. She wriggled her belly in a half-hearted attempt to escape the intense pleasure of his deft tongue.
"I couldn't wait lover," she gasped, and then screamed joyously. Her hips swayed wildly, her asscheeks jiggling on his prick as peak bliss shot and fountained through her entire being. Ty's cock arched in a last rugged drive against her cunt as releasing ecstasy erupted through him explosively.
"I caught the same train, darling," he groaned as he clutched her writhing hips.
Long moments later, when they lay side by side in each other's embrace, Ty said, "You don't feel you need that H. now do you dear?"
"What's H?" said Ellie rolling her eyes in mock innocense.
Ty Grinnell kissed the attractive redhead and continued seriously, "Ellie, there's a lot to explain and straighten out. But the most important thing is that we've found out we really love each other."
"The hard way, wasn't it counselor?"
"Yes," Ty answered gravely, thinking of his past, his mother's old tenement. "But now we've got something that's good. Everything else is unimportant. Let's play it straight and be a couple of squares from now on...."
"Except in bed!" Ellie grinned mischievously.
Slowly he gathered her into his arms, took one cherry nipple in his mouth, rammed his prick deep into her cunt, and gave her the fucking of her life.
