"Love and marriage go together like a horse and carriage," is the first line of a song popular a few eons ago, behavioristically speaking. The general idea was that you can't have one without the other.
In the past twenty years most of the world has been turned upside down when it comes to the liberality of sexual mores. What it has come down to now, as some experts say, is that we are continuing in the constantly changing and sex-free society, but they say there is a guidepost on the horizon which very well may soon turn things again in a new direction.
Earl H. Brill in his book SEX IS DEAD puts it this way: If sex is dead, can marriage long survive? After all, since time immemorial, reluctant males have been lured into marriage through the instrumentality of plain, old-fashioned sex. Now what are we going to do?"
What indeed? If the instrumentality is neutralized by overexposure and over-copulation, what has a poor human type girl left to use for claws?
Brit had other ideas. Brit is a national champion class open-competition racquet ball champion who works to earn her keep at a racquet ball center. She sells time, balls and shorts and gives private instruction. She also picks up pin money with some side bets at a dollar a point spread.
But Brit is still basically interested in the wedding, if not the wedding bed, and the security and peace of mind which should go with it.
But along the road to that certificate, Brit finds a new source of pleasure, or perhaps it is an old source. Whichever, she discovers that small boys, especially those from twelve to thirteen, can make the most interesting sex partner that a girl ever dreamed of. Innocent, not only willing but eager to be led, to be instructed in detail, and seemingly always ready for "one more time."
Brill at this point would jump in and say as he does in his book: "Our society has traditionally viewed marriage as the way to legitimize sexual activity."
The heroine in this book would certainly agree with him, and she works at that final end, but here and there she runs into problems that tend to discourage suitors.
Brill would have understood. His book looks at it this way:
"Until we discovered sex, nobody expected much else, so no one was too disappointed. Now we find ourselves free from traditional repressions but bound by a new kind of inverse puritanism in which sexual morality in marriage is equated with some mysterious ingredient called adjustment, which most people can't produce. And the result? Frustration, despair, and often a panicky search for new partners."
Brit has more than one sexual hang-up. The fact of silicone injections so she could double and do stunt work for big-busted movie queens and television actresses five years ago, has turned into both a blessing and a curse. She always gets back to the little boys.
This wouldn't be so complicated only she is worried that her current boyfriend, and the best candidate she has for the center aisle, is a cop, a detective lieutenant who isn't so conventional in his dress. She does a good job of juggling both ends against her middle, but she doesn't do much to help support Mr. Brill's arguments about marriage. Her repressions are gone, most of them along with a bad first marriage. She works out her frustrations on the courts, and she really doesn't understand what he meant by inverse puritanism so she doesn't worry about that aspect of her sex life.
Mostly she tries to have fun, to enjoy herself and try to live through the next day.
Her future? Of course she is worried about it. She realizes she isn't building up that nest egg, she has no children to help provide for her and no real live husband prospect on the line.
So Brit keeps fishing, keeps prospecting. She wants love and protection, husband and home, but she isn't quite sure how to get it-with a flagrant demonstration of her powers with the male genitalia, or with a coy, cool, not-until-after-I-get-the-ring approach.
For Brit the scales seem to have been sprung against her. She stumbles, and for all of us who stumble, there is only one way, down.
-THE PUBLISHERS
CHAPTER ONE
Brit grabbed the wet towel the middle-aged man tossed at her and neatly pushed it into a hamper behind her counter. The old geezer nodded so she grinned and nodded back and half bowed to him, knowing that her blouse would billow forward just enough so he could get a quick look at her tits. So what? Let the old fucker have a little look, she didn't care. She saw him paw at his fly as he went out through the door and she would bet ten bucks he went out and jacked off before he drove home.
He was the last one, the last racquet swinger tonight at the Hemphil Racquet Ball and Handball Center. She danced to the front door and snapped on the night lock. Five minutes of closing up and she'd be done-done with work.
The minute she had turned off the lights and turned the air conditioners to "off," she moved toward the women's locker room and showers and sauna.
It was a plush layout, the best in the whole Los Angeles area. There were twelve indoor courts, all regulation with wooden floors, perfect lighting, 100 percent humidity and temperature controlled to an invigorating sixty-seven degrees winter and summer. Six courts backed up to a central core which held a long hallway with access to the courts. Over the hall was a carpeted spectator's gallery. The end courts on both sides were half glassed in with some heavy plastic material for added viewing.
Brit had worked hard to get her job there. The fact that she was the fourth best women's racquet ball player in the whole country didn't hurt any. Yeah, and her big tits had helped a little, too.
She hurried, wondering if he would be there. The damned little fucker, she'd told him not tonight, but it was summer and he didn't have anything else to do. He was probably there, just waiting for her, maybe reading a book or smelling the women's Johns. Brit snickered.
She was only twenty-nine, well maybe thirty-two, but she had taken care of her body. All of it. Both of them as the guys would say. So all right already, she had big boobs. Sometimes she almost wished she didn't. Hell yes, she had used silicone. She put in a year as a stunt woman at one of the studios and they always needed a big-titted stunt girl. There weren't any, so Brit had the injections. From a 35-B cup right on up to a 37-D cup. And a big goddamned D cup at that. Her breasts never hurt much either, not any more.
She pulled open the door to the women's locker room and paused. The lights were on. She'd turned them off after the last two women quit at ten-thirty and went home to shower. She flipped her long black hair over her shoulders and grinned.
"Lonny?" she said and paused. "Lonny, come on out, I'm not going to play hide and seek with you." She waited a minute. "Lonny, you get your fucking little ass out here or I'm gonna lock the damned door and you'll have to stay in here all night."
It was the same routine whenever he was here. Sometimes he missed. She heard him laugh.
"Aw, hell, you wouldn't go and do nothing like that to good old Lonny."
He came out of the quiet and dry showers, one hand around his rock-hard prick, his black face grinning. "Hi."
"Hi yourself. What you got there?"
"This?" he swung up the black cock. "Oh, hell, that's just my old fucking pole." Lonny laughed. "You ever seen a black fucking stick like that before?"
She shook her head. It was the same little routine, and he seemed to love to play it.
Brit felt the tremors start as soon as he edged around the tiled wall. Her breasts throbbed and pounded until she wanted to cry out. Her blood began to surge through her veins and down between her legs a tell-tale puddle of moisture collected in her panties crotch.
She shivered and he saw it.
"Yeah, that's a good little cunt. You want it, don't you?"
She shook her head. "No, Lonny, not tonight. I'm too tired."
"Shit!"
"But, Lonny, I am. I've been working twelve hours."
"You been fucking the boss too."
"So?"
"I don't like nobody else fucking my cunt."
"I'm not yours, Lonny, and I'm sure not your cunt."
"Shit!"
"You shouldn't talk that way, Lonny."
"It turns you on, you told me so, that first night."
"I shouldn't have said that. How old are you, Lonny?"
"Almost thirteen."
"Twelve, and you got a prick big as a man's already. What the hell you gonna be like when you grow up?"
"I'll be a big fucker."
He had been moving toward her, his head almost coming up to hers, but not quite. She was five-five, so he must be about five-four, she thought. He put his black hand directly on her left breast and began rubbing it through the white blouse. A second later her nipple surged upward until it showed plainly through the fabric.
"Oh, yeah, you don't want cock tonight. Yeah, I can see it showing all over you."
"Lonny, don't."
"Hell, why not?" He sat down on the couch in the lounge area where they had been standing and pulled gently at her hand.
She knew she shouldn't. What was she letting herself in for? If the boss ever found out he'd fire her so fast-and probably try to sew her cunt shut, too. But the hand tugged and she knew she couldn't resist it. Slowly her knees bent and she slumped down beside him.
Lonny's hands went to her breasts again, and somehow Brit found her hand curled around his long, hot, pulsating prick. It was so damned big to be growing out of a little kid's crotch. He had to be more than twelve. She'd fucked grown men with only half the log this kid already had.
"How you want my dick tonight, pretty white cunt?"
"Lonny, really, I don't...."
His lips pushed over hers and his lean body kept moving, sliding her down on the couch until she lay on her back, and his firm young body was full length on top of her, crushing down on her sensitive tits, his knee pushing between her legs, coming up firmly between them to her crotch.
She couldn't talk then. She simply couldn't say a word. The black, young hands pulled down the zipper on the blouse front, pushed it back and began devouring her boobs. Now she was glad they were big, so she had more tit flesh for him to enjoy. He was so young and sexy, and unspoiled. She wondered if he'd ever fucked anybody else? Of course he had, he'd told her. She couldn't remember it, all she could think of were his hands on her tits, his tongue trying to worm all the way down her throat.
She moved then, got her hands on the shorts she wore and unhooked them, then unzipped them and pulled them down as far as she could, taking the panties with them. Oh,-shit, but that felt good! Just to have her bare ass on the roughness of the couch, and to know that he would get his hand down there soon.
Lonny kept working on her tits. He told her he was a tits man, that he loved the old knockers. When he was finished chewing them and sucking on her tits, Brit felt ready to explode. She grabbed his hand and pushed it between her spread legs. She heard him laugh softly.
"You really, don't want any black cock tonight, do you?"
But she was beyond caring what he said, only what he did could make any difference. She pawed at his hand, urging it to her crotch. At last she caught his cock and pulled it down toward her very private place, toward her hot and ready, wet cunthole. He laughed again, but she nosed his hot, throbbing tool into her joy hole and sighed as he groaned himself and plunged forward.
Brit squealed as the black boyfuck meat ripped into her cock tube, and she sighed as he hit bottom with it, his pelvic bones grating against hers and his big black balls whumping against her fluttering asshole. Now there was a kid who came to fuck!
She lifted her legs, to his sides, crossing them over his back. She felt his cock stroke three times, then eased her legs higher until they touched his arms. He frowned down at her.
"On your shoulders, darling. Put my legs right beside your neck. It's wild that way.'?
He shrugged, moved her sleek legs on top of his shoulders, and found that he was almost vertical. He leaned in, pushing her legs higher yet, and began pumping his big black dick into her tilted cunthole. It was fantastic. What this white bitch wouldn't think of next! He'd have to try fucking this way with Ruth tomorrow in the park ... if they could get that patch of trees to themselves again.
Lonny jammed his cock into her cunt once more and felt the jism building up. Oh, damn, but his cum was on the way already, nothing to do to stop it, help it! Yeah, plant his black seed deep into this white bitch-maybe he could make her pregnant! Wouldn't that be a gas. Goddamn! Oh, wow, wow, wow, yeah, wow, wow, and he breathed, then pumped his feverish prick into her cunt once more and let her slip her legs off his shoulders. She brought them back down along his sides until she was lying flat again.
"Now, mama, that was wild. I mean that was a fuck and a half. You still don't want no good, stiff, black cock tonight, right?"
Brit still couldn't talk. She looked at him, and patted his shoulder. God, she didn't realize he still had on both his shirt and his pants. The little fucker had only opened up his pants and he'd made her. Next time she was going to get hold of that bare black body. No, there couldn't be any next time. She had to stop this before somebody caught her at it. The kid didn't matter, it was her white ass she was thinking about. If Will ever got wind of this. ... Damn, she didn't like thinking about that. Will was Will Jamison, he owned the place, and managed it. He had hired her, after she won fourth in the last nationals held right there at the Hemphil Courts. At least he had been honest. He said he wanted to fuck her. He said she would have the job whether or not she went to bed with him. He took her to Big Bear for three days and they fucked twelve times. The guy was fantastic. But he was jealous. Kerist, was he jealous.
She pushed the big-dicked little boy away. "Get your black ass out of here, Lonny. I catch you in here again, sure as hell I'm gonna lock the door and you'll wake up looking at some big-dick cop. You hear me good, boy!"
"Shit!" Lonny stood over her, reeling in his limp prick, still coated with her pussy juices, then zipping it up. He bent and played with her tits again, then walked out the door. She ran to the door to the women's lockers and watched him until he had slid out the back door and let the lock slip back in place. He'd swiped two forty-dollar rackets already; that was all he was going to get. She slumped on the couch, still naked as she thought about it.
She shook her head and went for a quick shower.
A half hour later she drove her Honda Civic into the narrow parking spot in front of her apartment building and tried to tell herself that it would be all right. Will hadn't been bothering her lately. He was building a new court in Palm Springs. He wanted to get into the San Diego area, the real hotbed of racquet ball playing, but the town was already full of good courts. Will was too smart to overbuild, so he moved on to the Springs.
She let herself into her small apartment. She should find a new roommate. The last girl she had got married and moved out. Brit had offered to let the guy move in and share and share alike, but he decided against it. She could afford to pay the tab there, but it left her more money to save if she had somebody to share expenses.
Brit pulled off her clothes and dropped on the bed. She'd swear in the morning when she found clothes all over the house, but right now she didn't mind. She had to be to work at twelve again. So it would be another twelve-hour day. She got an hour off about six and usually worked in three hard games with one of the better men players. She liked playing the men, it gave her more of a workout and put her in shape for the women. The men hit harder, and you had to work the back wall more, but in the long run it would strengthen her game. It had already, she decided.
She always slept naked, it seemed better that way. The small air conditioner hummed in the wall, and she wondered where she had set the control. Too late though, she'd never make it up to turn off the thing, or even change it.
Brit went over the tussle with Lonny again just before she dropped off to sleep. Damn, but the little kid was good. All the practice fucking he was getting, he'd be a stud horse by the time he was fifteen. He'd get half the black chicks in his block pregnant before they were thirteen.
Thirteen, it seemed an incredibly long time ago. Thirteen, when she had been home in Oregon, living with her folks. Her old man was a mailman, and her mother taught school. She ran around a lot, but never got really felt up until she was fourteen. Then she found out she liked it and got her first dose of clap before she was sixteen.
She shook her head. Where the hell had the years gone? One bad marriage that was really bad. Her short-time husband had turned out to be a compulsive liar, as well as a crook. He wound up in federal prison for trying to sell a truck load of beef that he had stolen. He was a real loser. Before they caught him he ran up charge accounts all over town and they expected her to pay for them. Brit had quickly left the state and changed her last name to get clear of it all. Sure the store owners got cheated. Was it any better she should get shafted for almost seven thousand dollars for that worthless jerk she married?
He had had a good cock, though, and had he known how to use it! He had taught her plenty those two years they lived together.
Hell, she was never going to get to sleep. Fucking that little black kid sure kept her keyed up. She should go get a glass of warm milk. Maybe a glass of warm water would do it. Yuck! She remembered how warm water tasted.
She turned over and threw off the sheet she had pulled up. That would do it, she was just too warm, too fucking hot.
As she lay there she thought about the young black boy-the smoothness of his skin, the soft chocolate brownness, his wide mouth and firm lips. Yeah, and that long fuckstick at his crotch. Brit shivered. Her hand wormed down to her leg and slid up slowly. It had been good, so damn good, but it couldn't continue, she knew that and kept reminding herself that over and over. Only this time she was going to make a break.
She had to think about her future. What future? She was thirty-two, divorced, no kids, about a hundred bucks in the bank, a car all paid for, and an apartment with the rent due every month. She made about enough at work to pay her bills. Hell, she couldn't work forever.
Married, yeah, she should get married again. Her finger found the soft lips below the hair and she felt her legs spread, her knees rise. Just a little touch or two to relax her so she could get to sleep. What would it hurt? What did it ever hurt?
She dreamed as she rubbed her clit, remembering all the best times she had slept with boys and men. Cock was always so good! Hell, maybe she was cut out to be a hooker?
She drove one finger deep into her twat and shook her head. It was too rough a life, the dirt, the real shit those girls had to take off the tricks. No, no, that wasn't for her. Her finger rubbed her cuntal lips harder and harder, finding her clit and making her breath come in a rush.
Then she was full bore in a climax, her hips humping, her hands clawing at the covers, that surging, ecstatic gush of warmness, of pure joy, of oneness, then the rattling and chattering as the tremors jetted through her sleek body. She churned against the sheets for a solid sixty seconds of cum, then her hand fell away and she relaxed, a gentle smile on her face. Twenty seconds later she drifted into an untroubled sleep.
CHAPTER TWO
Brit woke at seven the next morning, totally and completely refreshed. Seven hours of sleep was all she could stand, and she could function very well on six; she had done so for years. She always slept a full seven before an important match, of course.
After breakfast she tuned in the television exercise man, Jack LaFrame, and worked out with him for a half hour. The man was fantastic on the tube, and could do things with his body no man his age should be able to. She stared at the cock bulge at his crotch and wondered if he wore his tights just for effect, or if he really could perform as well in bed?
She put his dick out of her mind and spent the next three hours working on her typing. She had a chance at a good secretarial job, but first her speed had to be up to sixty words per minute. The last five-minute test she gave herself, she was only at forty-five words. Sixty seemed like a dream, but everyone said all it took was lots of practice. The job as secretary would pay her at least four-hundred-fifty dollars a month, maybe four-seventy-five. That was a lot more than she was making now. She would still have time to play racket ball, maybe even more. She wanted to keep up two hours a day with the black bouncing ball. If she could move up to number two or even beat Betty Willow, she might get a chance to go pro and do some promotion for courts or racket makers.
She made it to the courts just five minutes before twelve. They had lots of guys who came to play on their lunch hours. The man who cleaned up the courts and offices and Johns kept the store until she got there. Will Jamison the owner never came in until the afternoon, if he was in town.
She wore a tighter blouse today, and she noticed that her nipples showed through. She hadn't worn a bra for two years. So let the guys stare at her nipples, so what? Maybe some rich jock would invite her out for dinner and try to lay her.
She did the renting of the courts automatically, answered the phone and signed up reservations for the next three days. It was boring, but kind of fun sometimes.
Then over it all and through it all, she thought of Lonny's big black cock. She grinned, wondering where that little fucker was, what he did all day. She remembered the first time she'd seen him. He had stopped by and when he found out it cost two dollars an hour to play, his black brows shot up and he whistled.
"Two bucks? You jiving me, right? I can go down to city college and whack a ball against the wall all day for free."
He was cute, and chocolate brown, so she grinned at him as she turned away to another customer. He had still been there at two-thirty, the slack period. Brit took him into court No. I and gave him a quick lesson, listening for the phone and watching the front office through the plastic court side.
The next three days he came at the same time and she played with him each time. The third day after they had finished, she sat down against the back wall and wiped some honest sweat from her forehead. He had learned to play just well enough to keep her running.
He sat down beside her and grinned.
"Hey, Brit, you sure got big tits."
She broke up. When she calmed down she thanked him and went back to the front desk and worked the rest of the day. That night she saw him once or twice, then when she began closing up, she found him in the women's locker room, stretched out on the couch.
"Hey, you're in the women's can," she said.
"Yeah."
She had already locked the front door, and cleared the men's locker room so she didn't close anybody inside. She had planned on having a quick shower before going home and had her blouse half unbuttoned as she walked through the door.
He stared at the swell of one breast and the edge of the nipple on the other side.
"Holy shit!" he said, sitting up.
She closed her blouse.
"Lonny, I didn't know you were in here," she said, walking toward him. She watched him and saw his hand move over and begin rubbing his crotch. He was a cute kid, a beautiful little hunk of black boy. That was when she realized she'd never been fucked by a black cock. Suddenly, Brit giggled. She sat down beside the boy and let her blouse swing open. His eyes stared at her white tits. He was still rubbing the fly of his pants, only now she saw the bulge of his dick.
"Hey, Lonny, want to take a look at them?"
"At what?"
"At my breasts?"
"No lie? You ain't got some big honkey out there gonna beat the shit outta me?"
She laughed. "Of course not, I don't do things like that. We're all alone, everyone else has gone, I'm just ready to close up." She moved her hand back to her blouse and undid the bottom two buttons.
"Take a look, push my blouse back."
His hand moved cautiously, warily, afraid that she would scream at him, or jump. But Brit held still, smiling. He lifted the cloth carefully, spreading it out on each side, and Brit couldn't help but push her chest out a little extra.
Lonny gulped as he stared at the white tits. He'd never seen anything like them, big and pure white with pink nipples and brownish circles, and so big! He'd seen a couple of girls showing off their boobies, but they were thirteen and didn't have much more than big pimples. These were woman tits! He wanted to grab them, but that would get his black ass in trouble. He sat there looking and looking. This was one show he was gonna remember and tell the guys about.
Then she surprised him again.
"Lonny, you can touch them if you want to, you won't hurt them. I'd like it in fact, if you would rub them a little."
"You really jivin' me now."
"No, Lonny. Really. Sometimes a girl likes a boy to play with her boobies. Did you know it feels good for the girl too?"
"No lie?"
"True. Go ahead."
His hand came out in a rush and she wanted to groan when his black flesh touched her white. For a second she closed her eyes, but then she realized how stupid that was. Skin was skin, black, white or purple. The hands explored, rubbed, and every few seconds his big brown eyes stabbed up at hers.
"That right? I doing it the right way?"
"Fine, Lonny, just fine."
She let him feel of them for a long time. Once he put his hand down to his crotch, then back to her glorious half globes.
Brit had surged with instant desire as soon as his hands touched her tits. Then she pushed it down, but now as he played with her, she knew the build was coming, felt the wetness already at her crotch. She wanted to scold herself. That was dumb, he was just a dumb little kid, not more than eleven or twelve. So what? she argued with herself. She could show him the right way, give him a good start. Then she remembered he was black, he'd probably already had his share of girls. When he pinched her nipples, she groaned and knew she could never stop.
"Lonny, I'd really love it if you would kiss them. You ever kissed a tit before? You know, kiss them and maybe chew a little?"
Lonny moved one hand down to his crotch and left it there and leaned down to kiss her trembling breast. It set off a fire in Brit she couldn't explain. It wasn't that he was black, and it wasn't that he was male. The only thing she could guess was that he was so young, and that gave her an extra thrill.
She saw his mouth close around one of her orbs, and Brit closed her eyes, slumping lower on the couch. She reached out and found his hand near his crotch. Brit pushed the hand away and rubbed the swelling flesh she found there. Then she leaned past him and, with both hands, pulled down the zipper and pulled his cock out of his pants.
"Lonny! What a big prick. You're hung like a stallion."
"Don't touch it, he's gonna spurt!"
Brit reached down and grabbed his black cock, jerking it up and down twice before it exploded. Lonny humped his hips and watched the jism spurt out of his black prick onto the floor of the women's locker room. Five times he jolted it out, and the sixth batch of cum droozled out, then ran down the back side of his cock.
"Oh, man, wow! I've never cum that fast 'fore."
"I helped you, Lonny. You had tit for dinner and that helped."
"But I can't fuck you now."
"True, and you weren't going to get to anyway."
She watched his face cloud into a frown.
"But would you want to feel me a little?" She didn't wait for his answer, instead she grabbed his hand and pushed it between her legs, right at her crotch. She spread her legs and relaxed.
He let his hand lay there.
"Go ahead, feel me up, try to get inside my shorts. Rub me."
"I don't know what to do."
She grinned, unzipped her shorts and pulled them down to her knees along with her panties.
"Now see what you can find."
He was on his knees at her legs now, his fingers working, probing, hunting.
He gave a little yelp as his finger sunk into her cunt.
"By God, you found it," Brit said. He pushed his finger in and out a few times, then spread her legs so he could see where it was and looked up, grinning.
"You've sure got a lot of hair. What's it for?"
"Just so you'll ask more questions."
"Sure you don't want me to fuck you? I can get my prick hard again real fast."
She laughed and pulled up her shorts and panties. "Lonny, I bet you can. But you better get it back in your pants and get out of here. I've got to finish closing up and get home."
"Aw, hell."
"Right, I'll show you how to get out." She led him to the side door and showed him how he could go out and let the night lock close behind him.
Before she let him leave, she touched his shoulder. "Now you know this was just a one-time thing. You'll never get a look at me undressed again, so remember it. I don't want to see you around the courts any more unless you got your two bucks for a game." She swatted him on the ass and pulled the door shut behind him.
And that was the last she thought of Lonny until he showed up a week later, promptly at two-thirty, the slack time. Once a week all summer they had been balling up a storm on that couch in the women's John.
Once Will had come in after hours hunting her, and almost barged into the women's locker room.
She called out just in time that she was just having a quick shower and would be right out. That night she left Lonny in the locker room until after she had left with Mr. Jamison. The next morning she noticed that two rackets were missing.
As she sat there behind the counter remembering it all, she sighed, because the next time Lonny came in she was going to end it all, the only way she could.
"Hey, sweetheart, got an open court?" She looked up suddenly. She hadn't even heard the door open.
"Oh, yeah, I think so." She looked down at the chart. "Number one is open in five minutes." It was almost 2:30.
"Swell, I'll get dressed," he said and grinned. "And don't worry, I know what you was dreaming about." He winked and it hit her wrong. "You damn well sure don't." He stopped. His frown changing into a scowl. "Hey, you're real bitchy today. Anything wrong?"
She started to blurt out something, then stopped and sighed. "I had a game lined up but she didn't show. You swinging alone?"
"Yeah."
She'd seen him play. He was about a "B" player. She could whip him easily. "Want to play for a dollar a point?"
He scratched his head. "Mean if you beat me by six points, I owe you six bucks?"
"Right. And I can watch the front door too."
"You're on."
He vanished into the men's locker room and came out five minutes later in white shorts, shirt and sneakers. "Come on," he said. "I'll probably get my ass beat off, but from you it won't be so hard to take."
Sometimes this time of day the phone didn't ring for half an hour, and the courts cleared and only two were playing. She served first and went full bore from the first swing, playing hard, driving racquet ball, using her head, charging for each point. She ran it to 5-0 before he got the serve. She gave up one point then aced in a soft corner bouncing shot to his back hand that he never got to the wall. She served the same type ball again and his weak backhand arched to the wall. She promptly put it away in the far corner with a kill shot. She had found his weakness and never let up.
The phone rang when the score was 10-3. When she came back he was still sweating. She eased up and let him win the next four points, then ran up six in a row on him.
When the game ended after five more minutes, she had nailed him to the wall 21-13.
He mopped his forehead and sat down against the wall.
"What the hell is your ranking, anyway?"
"Fourth, nationally."
"Damn, and I walked right into it. You hustled me, you know that?" He glanced up quickly. "Hey, I didn't mean that you hustled me that way ... I mean ... "
She laughed and he did too, as the phone rang again and she went back to the counter. It got busy after that and when the big spender came off court one at three-thirty, he waved and went into the locker room.
It was busy then, with the afternoon crush that would last straight through into the evening to closing time at eleven. She wished she'd had enough money to put up a layout like this. She could retire in ten years if the surge of racquet ball interest held up. It was booming in Southern California.
She saw Lonny come through the front door a little after eight that night, but she forgot about him until she started to go into the women's locker room to close up. Instead of walking in, she opened the door, flicked off the lights, and twisted the lock in the door. If he was in there, there was no way out until morning. She paused, ready to open it if he yelled. She wasn't sure he was in there, but chances were good that he was. Well, that's tough, she decided. Let the little fucker sweat a little. He never seemed to worry about anything.
When she came out of the front door and locked it, she saw the other car in the parking lot. It was parked beside her Honda Civic. As she walked up to her car, a man called from the window.
"Hey, Brit, it's just me, your patsy. You whipped my tail today 21-13 and I forgot to pay off our bet." He got out of the car and gave her the eight dollars. She didn't feel the least bit strange taking the money. Usually she was challenged by the man, but she usually beat them.
The guy who stood next to his car was about 38, maybe 40, she decided. He had good arms and shoulders and his belly was really flat for his age. His hair was black and long over his ears. His grin even seemed nicer now.
"Hey, Brit, if you ain't busy, how about a drink somewhere? That backhand of yours is great. Maybe I should take some lessons. Bet you made ten solid points off my backhand."
"Thirteen," she said. "You could use a little help there, but your serve isn't bad."
"How about that drink?"
"Sure, but what then?"
"Well, you know, if we get along...."
"You asking right now?"....
"Yeah, damn it, I am. You've got the biggest tits I've ever seen and I'd like to get my face in them and chew them half off."
"And you think because I won some money from you today that I'll feel obligated...."
"HeH no. You won it fair and square. But I asked you fair and square too. If you don't want to, I'll shove off."
She grinned. Hell, why not? "Okay, it might be fun to get fucked tonight, your place or mine?"
"You got any booze at yours?"
They stopped and bought a bottle before they got to her apartment, taking both cars. She let him in, thinking that this night she wouldn't have to rub herself off to get to sleep. She mixed drinks for them and carried them into the bedroom.
It began fine. He undressed her slowly, carefully, kissing off everything, then he did try to chew off her boobies. But just before he slipped his dick into her, it went sour, dry, no good. She went through with it, going through the motions, making him happy, pounding with him and groaning at the right times and faking a climax of her own. He rolled off and, when he came back from the bathroom, she had her robe on, waiting for him.
"You know Will Jamison, my boss?"
"At the courts?"
"Right."
"Never met him."
"Good, don't breathe anything about this, okay? He's as jealous as an old stud hound."
"Well, sure, right. We all done? I mean, I thought we could...."
She shook her head. "I'm tireder than I thought. Maybe the next time."
"Yeah, sure. Damn, it was great. Don't worry, I don't talk about girls. Never." He pulled on his clothes and, when he left five minutes later, she turned on Johnny Carson and wondered how good he would be in bed. She threw away the cigarette she had just lit then walked across the room and stamped it out. She was going bugs!
What she was going to do was have one black cup of coffee, then a half a cup of hot chocolate, a quick hot shower and dive between the sheets. She would be sleeping before she knew it.
The next morning, right in the middle of her typing practice, the phone rang. She grabbed it on the third ring.
"Brit, you close up last night?"
It was Will Jamison, she knew his voice anywhere.
"Yes, of course, checked every window, every door."
"You better get right down here. Cops all over the place. Looks like somebody tried to break in and cut themselves in the process. Blood all over the side of the building. They picked the women's locker room, thank God, so they didn't get through that locked door. Get down here and make a statement for the burglary guys so the insurance'll cover it."
"Yes, of course, half an hour?"
"Fine."
He hung up. She stared at the phone. Blood? Lonny had been there and he'd tried to smash out the window and get through the screen inside the glass and cut himself. If he was badly hurt, she would just die.
She stood there a minute more, then realized she had to change her clothes. She kept shorts and T-shirts and a couple of spare pairs of panties in her locker at the courts, but she wanted something more conservative. She threw on a pair of older pants, then decided to wear the matching top over a white blouse and barely got to the courts by the time she said she would.
She had slept good the night before. She didn't know if it had been the coffee, the chocolate or the man-fuck. She hadn't decided when she walked into the courts through the open front door. It was only 9:30 but there were a dozen cars there. Sitting behind the counter on her stool was a man with a full beard that had been trimmed once but straggled a little here and there. When he looked up he had the biggest blue eyes she had ever seen on a man.
"Hi, are you Brit?"
"I confess," she said, holding up her right hand.
He grinned and she marveled at the row of even, white teeth. If he had not been there and probably a cop, she would have sworn he had a set of caps on his choppers.
"I'm Simon, burglary detail. This is a little strange, so we wanted to be sure of everything." He stood and left the counter. "Mind stepping down this way to the women's locker room."
She didn't mind it at all. When he stood up he went to about six-two, and he had the shoulders of a tennis player. He wore a blue T-shirt with a coiled snake on it, blue jeans that had seen at least a hundred washings, and tennis shoes.
"You really a cop?"
"Yeah, I like to be with the people."
"You undercover, right? Like Serpico or Toma?"
"Not really. This is my day off and they pulled me off a hike I had planned. Some cat got himself sick."
They got to the women's locker room. He held the door open for her and went through the dressing area to the showers which were at the back of the building. She saw it at once, the big section that had been smashed out of the window. At once Brit knew what had troubled the cop. If someone had smashed into the building, why was most of the broken glass and screen on the outside of the building and not inside on the shower room floor?
Simon looked at her. "You sure you checked in here last night, Brit?"
CHAPTER THREE
"Sure I checked it. I had to come in to turn off the lights. I ain't saying somebody didn't hide in here. 'Course I didn't look in every nook and cranny. We didn't have a woman in the place after nine o'clock, so why would I hunt in here real good?"
"Then it's possible that someone had hidden here, hoping that the locker room door wouldn't be locked so he could burglarize the front office after everyone left?"
"Sounds good to me. But there sure isn't that much to swipe from this place, even during the day."
The cop went to the window and tried to push his shoulders through the broken section of the reinforced glass. He couldn't get through.
"Way I see it is that somebody could have used tape on the outside of the glass, broken it and lifted it out, only he didn't have wire cutters for the wire so he twisted it and some of the glass came inside. He pushed inside, then when it wasn't any use he went back outside, which would account for the outward swing of the shattered parts of the window."
"Could have happened that way. Boss said there was some blood. Was it a lot, or just some scratches?"
He pointed through the window. She could see a line of drips of dark brown stains on the pavement leading down the alley.
"No, he was bleeding pretty good. Probably got it stopped after a block or two, at least that's where we lost the stains. Well, I guess that about covers it. Could I have your full name and address?"
"Sure." She gave it to him.
"Phone number?"
"463-3482."
"Good. I don't think there'll be anything else, unless we catch some burglar with the right type of blood and a bandage." He smiled, ready to leave but not really wanting to.
"Call me anyway, but I'm here most of the time. You play?"
"Racquet ball? Once or twice."
"Be glad to give you some lessons, free of course."
"Might take you up on that."
As he turned to go, Will Jamison came into the locker room.
"Get everything you need, Lieutenant?" Will asked.
The bearded man nodded, looking at Brit. "Near as we can tell the party did come in from the outside, probably using tape on the window, happens all the time. And since there isn't anything stolen, and no damage outside the window, I don't think we need to investigate it any morje."
"Goddamn, that's great! From what that sergeant said...."
"Murphy tends to get carried away sometimes," Lt. Simon said. He flipped closed the small notebook he had been making scratches in and waved. "Well, I'll get this written up and maybe I can still catch the half-day boat and go fishing." He walked out of the room and Will reached out, touching Brit, holding her there until the cop was gone.
"Beautiful job, great! You really must have turned on the old charm. I could see us being tied up all day here, like there was a fucking murder or something. Now we can open right on schedule. Why in hell did you wear that mother hubbard outfit? I thought you'd have sense enough to come in shirts and a-tight blouse to kind of sweep them off." He shrugged. "What the hell, it worked."
He guided her out the door and down the long hallway between the courts. Marve, the janitor and opener-upper was just finishing work on the last court.
Will looked at her, then at his watch. "I don't have an appointment until noon, want to play a game?"
"Ten dollars a point?"
He frowned, studying her.
"Hell no. Not even for a buck a point. I can read you pretty good, sweet bitch. And right now you'd beat my ass right into the ground. With a racket you'd be murder. Right now you wouldn't be worth fifty cents in bed, but I won't even get on the court with you. Did that cop turn you off or something?"
"Yeah, it must've been the pig. I might as well go back home and practice typing."
"You serious about trying to be a secretary? You'd go out of your skull in a week."
"I'd like to try. At least dirty old men wouldn't be pawing at my ... at my blouse."
"Cut the shit, you love getting felt up by the guys."
"I do? Your reading sure is off now." She turned and went on out the front door, knowing that she had made her boss a little mad. But what the hell, he'd get over it. He had nothing to complain about, especially the fringe benefits. The hell of it was, he was fucking good in bed. But that sure didn't fatten up her bank account.
An hour later she threw the last page from the typewriter across the room. It was her little reward for finishing another page. She aimed it at the wastebasket but missed.
How in hell did she get herself all tied up in these messes? Sure she was mad at herself for locking the kid in the locker room. She didn't think he'd try to break out. She had no idea how he did it and she was sorry he hurt himself. At least she had squared it with the cops. That Lt. Simon looked like a cool one. She was surprised he was a cop, and it blew her mind that he was a lieutenant. He must be a smart cookie.
But Will had been wrong. That smart cop didn't turn her off. He had just the opposite effect on her. She wanted to rip his clothes off and grab his big heavy cock. She had wanted to make it with him from the first minute he said hello. Wild! What would she get for raping a cop? Twenty years. She could see the judge now pronouncing sentence.
She shook her head. Damn! She was getting her head all wrong. This was to be her year to make it, to really get on track and get going into some line of work she liked, instead of dicking around with the racquet ball thing. Here it was June already and where had she moved? From 40 up to 45 words per minute.
She ran down to the corner and bought a morning paper. Maybe there was some ads for light typing. She could do light typing. She'd wear one of those low, loose knit blouses, and make it tight and ... She shook her head. If she got a job she was going to get it in spite of the silicone, not because of it. Damn it!
She sprawled out on the floor, reading the help wanted ads. She had left the apartment door open, but the screen was closed. She heard the steps on the stairs but guessed they must be going to the next apartment. Then they stopped in front of her door. The bell rang.
She turned, sitting there on the floor, and looked at the screen. The man standing on the other side had a beard and a blue T-shirt with a coiled snake on it. He still had on the same sneakers.
"Sorry to bother you again, Brit," he said. She stood, graceful as a fawn, and opened the door.
"No bother at all, Lieutenant."
"Sam. Call me Sam." 'The questions?"
He laughed. "Not really. Just wanted to see you again, maybe take you out to lunch."
She smiled. He looked embarrassed. He must have thought he was staring at her tits.
"Fine, how about tomorrow at eleven?"
He scrubbed one big hand over his face, sending his whiskers into a whirlwind. "Yeah, that's good. You go to work at twelve, you said."
She nodded.
He waved at the classified ad pages on the floor. "Looking for another job?"
"You bet. Secretary, typist. You need one?"
"Sure do for all those damn reports. But I don't think the captain would like it if I brought you down to the station to type for me."
"Tell the captain I'll type for him too."
They both laughed and she felt some of the tenseness fade away. Neither of them said anything for a moment, then he turned.
"It's almost eleven-thirty, you probably got to get ready to go. I'll cut out."
He was waiting for her to ask him to stay for a sandwich or coffee or something, only she didn't. Maybe next time. It didn't seem like the time. Maybe she wanted more time with him, not just ten minutes. Maybe all night? She smiled and walked toward the door. She was leading, asking him to go.
"Right, I've got to get into my uniform and go down there and catch dirty towels and hand out little black balls."
"Sounds like fun."
He went outside. "Tomorrow, at eleven. I might come a little bit early."
"That's okay, I'll be ready."
She watched him wave and run down the steps. He was double parked directly below, beside her little Honda Civic. His car didn't have a siren, only an antenna. Nobody would know it was a cop car.
She sighed as he pulled away. Now what the hell is this all about? He's a cop. He's tough and is probably divorced because a lot of cops are. So what the hell is she playing it coy for? Why didn't she have a quick fuck and be late to work and see what he was really like? Why the little-girl games? Little girl? Yes. For a minute there she felt like a little girl again.
She got ready and went to work, played four games in her hour's break, winning all four, showered, and went back on the desk. That night she closed up quickly and got in her little car by eleven five. Her first thought was to stop by at a bar, but she canceled that. Two young boys were walking along ahead, kicking a rock, swatting at trees. She pulled up in front of them and stopped, waiting by the fender as they came up. One was about thirteen, the other younger.
"One of you guys want to earn two dollars?" she asked.
The older one jumped forward and pushed the other one back. "I sure do."
"I live about a mile from here and I have some trash to move. I work nights and I'm just off. If you want to help me move the stuff, I'll pay you and then drive you home."
"I'm your man, lady," the bigger kid said. He turrfed to the younger one. "Get your ass on home. I'll see you tomorrow."
He waited until she got in the car, then slid in. He knew about the new seat belt that had to be worn before the engine would start. When he had it fastened, she caught his hand and pulled it under her blouse, putting it on one of her tits.
"How would you like to fuck me?"
She felt his hand stiffen, then relax, and at the same time he grinned and reached for his crotch. "Damn!"
"I mean it. I've got an apartment and two big tits that want you to play with them. Does that feel good in there?"
"Holy cow!"
"That's not nice to say! You like that?"
"Yeah, oh, wow, I'm gonna cum!"
She pulled his hand out and started the engine. Five minutes later she slid into her parking spot, told him which apartment and to come up in five minutes.
Brit almost ran up the stairs, got inside and left the door unlocked and slightly ajar. Then she had a double shot of whiskey, not even looking to see what brand it was. She went to the John and splashed some of her best perfume on her crotch and her breasts, then she got her clothes back in place and went back into the living room. She checked to be sure all the lights were down, then opened the door a little more.
He came in without knocking and closed the door quietly. His hand was over a lump at his fly.
She grinned. "I see you came all ready."
"I been ready ever since I got into your car."
"Want a Coke?"
He shook his head. "Want to undress me?"
He nodded. She laughed and caught his hand, leading him into her bedroom. She'd never had a young boy there. It would be a first. He looked around, then when she reached for him he wasn't sure.
"You really don't have to do this," he said. "I mean I'll understand."
She unbuttoned his shirt and peeled it off his shoulders. He wore no T-shirt and his sleek, smooth skin sent shivers up her legs right into her cunt.
"Darling, I want to make love to you. Is it your first time?". "Hell no!"
"Really? You don't seem very experienced."
"Well, I never really, you know-did everything."
She opened his belt and he hesitated, then let her zip down his pants, and push him down on the bed to strip them off.
He wouldn't let her take his shorts off.
"You undress me," she said.
It was his first time. She showed him where the buttons and hooks and straps were, and at last he got her bra off.
"Oh, wow. Tits! I didn't know they even came this big. Jesus H. Damn. I've never seen anything like them."
"Then show them, pet them, feel them. Get them as hot as you are."
His hands touching her bare breasts were like twin electric sparks burning and searing her flesh. She reveled in the exquisite pain/pleasure of it, knowing it would never end, hoping it would last forever. His hands devoured her tits, working up the sides, over each pointed crown, then down the far slope.
"Play with the nipples, darling."
His small, young hands worked on them. At first he was so gentle she hardly felt it. Then he got bolder and squeezed them, snapping them, pinching them until they were gorged with hot blood, surging a half-inch tall and eager for more combat.
She pushed his hands down to the short skirt she wore. He found the zipper and worked it down, then she stepped out of the skirt and dropped on the bed. She wasn't wearing pantyhose. It made it much simpler. She lay on her back, her legs close together, and reached for him.
"I just want to look at you a minute," he said.
"Look away, I don't mind." She sat up so her breasts would surge out more. He grinned. "You ever seen a girl naked before?"
"Nope."
"Like it?"
"Oh, yeah!"
"You jack off in the car while you were waiting?"
He laughed, then nodded.
"I thought so, but it doesn't matter. You've got lots more."
She got on her hands and knees, making her big tits hang straight down. It made them look twice as big.
"Like that?"
"Yeah."
"Then eat them. Go ahead, chew on them a little. Play like they're ice cream cones."
His lips hovered under one breast, then he surged up and she shivered, then groaned. It was so beautiful. So fucking good. She wanted his cock inside her pussy right then, that instant. She didn't know if she could stand to wait for him or not!
Paul had noticed the little car drive by. He liked those little jobs. Maybe in four or five years he could get one. If he earned enough to buy one.
Then when it stopped and the good-looking woman got out, he was surprised. He almost turned around and went the other way. He'd heard of women jumping kids, taking their money, but this was a cool one. A can of crap about moving something. He'd seen her big tits the minute she got out of the car, even in the half light of the street lamp. So he knew she was on the make. He'd heard the older guys talk about broads who couldn't stand it without a man's dick inside them.
So he'd gone along with her crap about doing some work. Then when she grabbed his hand and jammed it on her tits, wow, hot damn. Paul knew that he was gonna get some pussy, or at least get felt up, maybe jacked off.
Now he stared up at the skin, so white, so faintly sweet smelling. AND HE HAD HER TIT IN HIS MOUTH! Goddamn, that was something. Wait until he saw Freddy again, he'd have some things to tell the kid he just wouldn't believe.
Her body was fantastic. Big tits, the biggest he'd ever seen, even in Playboy. And were they tender and warm. She had a small waist and hips that just kept swinging out. Then down between her legs ... she'd even let him look at her pussy hair. Down there somewhere was that cockhole he'd heard so much about. Pussy. Cunt. Twat. Fucking hole. Damn, this was something. He still couldn't believe it. HE HAD HER TIT IN HIS MOUTH!
She moaned and fell away from him. She caught his hand and pulled it between her legs, upward slowly, slowly until it hit her muff of fur. She let go then and he didn't know what to do. His fingers began exploring and a moment later he was through the stiff hair and touching something soft and wet.
"It's just like a pair of lips, man." That was how the guys told him a pussy looked. Lips were wet. This was wet. Was this her pussy?
But he couldn't look. Her lips were all over his face, then clamped on his mouth and he couldn't breathe. When he got his nose free she had her tongue down his throat. In his mouth. He felt his prick jerk and knew he had lost another load of cum into his shorts. He still had his shorts on. So what? When she wanted them off, she'd take them off. His fingers kept probing, prodding, then they fell over the edge of her cuntal lips and sunk in ... deep. His whole finger jammed into her pussy. He couldn't reach the bottom. He tried to get two fingers in there and she groaned as they slid in. Then he pulled them out and jammed them in and she gurgled and moaned and her hips started to pound upward against his hand.
Her mouth came off and she nibbled his ear. She reached down and tried to pull off his shorts. She couldn't make it.
Brit left his body and caught at the cum-soggy cotton shorts, pulling them down, finding the wet blob of cum in his shorts, throwing them aside, pulling at his softening prick, making it come alive again. Jacking his cock up until it was firm and hot and hard again.
"Come here, lover, I'm gonna get your cherry. I'm gonna fuck you good so you'll never forget your first cunt!"
CHAPTER FOUR
She pulled him down on top of her. Brit giggled as he tried to put his prick into her pubic hair. "Lower, lower, darling."
Then he hit her bung and she yelped, at last guiding his small tool into the well-oiled, souped-up pussy that had known more men's dicks than she could remember. She grabbed his butt and pushed down, then pulled him back.
"Come on, man, fuck me. Just pretend I'm your hand down there and hump your hips at me. Jack off right inside my twat. Can you do that?"
He nodded and began humping his prick into her. She moved upward to meet him and soon they established a fuck pattern. She lulled to its rhythm, and let it swing her along from dream to dream.
At last he got with the program, pounding his little boy cock into her, in and out, and she mellowed, wishing that his fucking motion would never end, wanting his prick to fuck her and fuck her for hours, always hard, always primed to cum. He wasn't big enough or placed right to touch her clit, and she knew this time she must have it twanged to get her satisfaction. Yeah, tonight she was gonna cum like hell!
He pumped harder, wondering how long he could hold out. Knowing that he was doing it, he was at last really fucking a girl, and what a girl! He was still knocked out by the size of her tits. They were about twenty times as big as Shirley's had been when he once rubbed hers. She said she liked it but she didn't know what it was all about. She was just twelve. Now this one, holy cow!
Then he was humping harder.
"Go, little fucker, go!" she called to him.
He knew it was coming, and he pumped as hard as he could. He felt his fingers curl as he shot his wad. His legs stiffened, and his toes curled down hard against the bed. He knew he wasn't going to be able to breathe.
Wham, Wham, Wham. He shot his cum inside her, and thought he would die each time. It was a hundred times better than the first time he had cum when he was climbing that tree. Damn, that had been wild. He had been straining and pulling upward with his prick rubbing against the rough tree, when suddenly he had came. His first time.
He tried to surge down against her again, but he was finished. Just like jacking off. When he was done, he was through. He started to pull his cock out of her, but she held him still.
"Stay right there, sweetheart, you've got to earn your cunt. Get your finger down here between us by your prick. You know what a clit is, a clitoris? Probably not. Darling, that's a little hard place that's kind of like your prick. When you rub it for me I get hot, and it's like when you jack off. Here, put your finger on it and kind of click it back and forth. Feel that?"
He nodded.
"Then go ahead and rub it back and forth, not too fast and not too hard. You do that for me and I'll cum too. It's fair that I get to shoot my load too, right?"
He nodded, concentrating on his finger. Then his hand found her tits and he pulled at them. "Wow, how'd you get such big tits?"
"Like them, darling?"
"Shean ... God, I'll say. Rubbing hurt them?"
She shook her head. It was building. That glorious head of steam that made her fly. Oh, she was going to soar and sail and jet right out of sight tonight. Goddamn, that felt great! Her nerves reacted, feeling the warming of her blood. She felt like every single cell in her body was sparking with a million volts of electricity. It surged higher and higher.
Then it stopped.
"Rub, darling."
"Can't, my damned finger's tired."
"Just a little more."
"You about to cum?"
"Yes, darling, a little bit more and I'll surprise you."
He rubbed her clit again and then she was really soaring. The full force of her expectations surged over the top and she lanced out into the far reaches of the galaxy, right past Andromeda and Cassiopeia, on through Corvus and Draco, past Sextans and Taurus, and at last sweeping into Virgo. She shook and rattled and gasped, forcing her lips onto his, sucking the life from him, shattered by the tremendous spasms that wracked her body again and again. When she at last let go of him, her whole body glistened with sweat, and he looked down at her with wonder.
"Wow, you cum a long time."
She nodded, closed her eyes, not wanting to talk, only to recapture some of the thrill of that one. It was one of her very best, and it came from a damned little virgin, from a first-fuck kid with a prick not much bigger around than her thumb! She shook her head and pushed him off her.
When she rolled over five minutes later and looked at him, he had on his pants.
"You want to go home?"
"Yeah, you said you'd drive me."
She scowled. She wanted to cuddle down in bed and relive it.
"You said you'd pay me two dollars for moving some stuff. I'll have to have it to show my mom or she'll be mad as hell I stayed out so late."
Brit laughed. She'd never paid for cock before. This was a new one on her. She stared at him for a long time, and he met her gaze firmly.
At last she scowled, went to her dresser and got two dollars from her purse.
"Just remember this was for moving some trash, and that's all. You tell your mom that. Now get your other clothes on and I'll put something on and get your ass out of here."
As she dressed she watched him watching her. Strange, he watched her every move.
Paul stared as she dressed. He'd never seen a real woman put on her clothes before. Panties first. She kind of wiggled into them, and it covered up her pussy. Damn, but that had been something. HE FUCKED THIS BITCH! Yeah, and he'd get his dick into her again. He knew where she lived. He'd stop by and ring her bell. If she gave him any trouble, he could threaten to turn her into the cops. Women weren't supposed to fool around with young kids, just like men couldn't touch young girls.
He was fascinated when she put her blouse on over her tits without a bra. Her nipples were still tall, and pushed out so he could see them through the cloth. He'd never seen but one other woman without a bra. It looked sexy as hell.
She drove him within a block of his house and let him off. She didn't want anyone to see her. As she drove back home she realized he lived only three miles from her apartment. It could mean trouble. She squinted, pinching the lines deep between her brows. No, she guessed he wouldn't give her any trouble. He was happy enough with his first fuck. She'd just be careful not to drive slow past that block.
It had been wild. That was the best cum she'd had in weeks, maybe in years. The shrinks said sex was ninety percent mental. They might be right, but it sure helped to have a cock in your old twat at the time.
At home she showered and went to sleep almost before she could think about putting her head on the pillow.
The next morning she worked hard at her typing, and took a self-timed test, setting the oven timer for ten minutes. At the end of it she counted up her words and mistakes and sighed. Only 49 words. It seemed forever to get to sixty. She got the paper and checked the ads again. There was one that said light typing. She dialed the number. It was an agency.
"You have a job for light typing?"
"Sorry, it's been filled, but we'll be glad to take your name and number. Why not come down and fill out some forms for us, we'll get you something. Anybody who can type even forty words per minute can get a job fairly easy."
"Well, maybe tomorrow morning. I'm busy this afternoon."
"Swell, stop by and ask for Kit at this number, 1414 87th Place, and well get you a really swell job."
She hung up and checked the clock. Sam Simon would be there in half an hour. She jumped up and looked at her face. Not much she could do about it now. She threw on a blouse, changed her mind and took it off. She grabbed her bra and had it on, then threw it into the corner and picked a heavier blouse that wouldn't show her nipples. She had to be a little conservative, going out with a pig lieutenant. The skirt was short and the pantyhose new, so it had no snags or runs.
She was ready and waiting when he arrived.
He knocked on the screen. "Anybody home?"
"Be right there," Brit called. She turned off the TV and the lights, grabbed her purse and went to the door.
"Hey, a new, clean T-shirt," she said.
Sam laughed. He had on a light gray suit, his beard had been trimmed and his hair cut off an inch or so. He looked almost respectable.
"This is an occasion. I figured I might as well dress up and surprise you."
"Serves me right. When I dress up I wear a bra, you want to wait a minute?"
"I'd rather you didn't. I like a little swing and sway." He held the door for her and helped her down the stairs to the same cop car he had before.
"You on duty?"
"I'm always on duty. A cop is always on duty. I pack my iron whenever I'm dressed. In a swimming pool we don't have to pack."
"You like being a cop?"
He talked as he drove. It wasn't far, just a few blocks from the courts where she worked in a little shopping complex. She'd never eaten there.
"Yeah, I guess I like being a cop, or I'd quit. You know the crap we have to take. We deal constantly with the worst element there is. Enough to make a guy turn to religion."
"I guess so. But I have to deal with jocks all day. Some of those guys are unreal."
"At least they don't shoot at you."
The lunch was fun. They talked about everything, and suddenly Brit had the feeling she was just out of high school, going out with a boy and "finding out about each other" on a date. She wanted to laugh, but didn't. It seemed too real. He was twenty-nine, had been on the force for eight years, graduated second in his class at the academy and got his lieutenant's bars twice as fast as most.
"Find out anything more about our robbery at the courts?"
Sam Simon shook his head. "Naw. Just some punk kid figured to swipe a few rackets and the alley looked safe enough. He must not have known the inside of the place. I filed the report and we'll never hear about it again.
They had club sandwiches, with lettuce and tomato and bacon and cheese cut up into those cheating little pieces so you've eaten the whole damn thing before you realize it, even the three slices of pickle and there goes the old diet. She'd work out hard later, to get rid of the calories.
"You ever get a night off?"
"Sunday."
He laughed and shook his head. "Figures, I always work Sundays and let the church types off. How about a date for Sunday, all day? We can go fishing or to an art museum, or bicycling, or anything you want to do I can afford."
She grinned. It had been a long time since somebody had asked her out that way. Somebody not just trying to get her blouse off. It felt good, deep down; just like back in high school.
Brit realized she hadn't answered him. "Sam, that's the nicest thing anybody's asked me in years. Of course I'll go. Let's figure out something wild-fun to do."
He laughed. She had the idea he did that when he was a little bit embarrassed. "Fine. We'll talk about it. Now I better get you to work or you'll have every day off."
Work was a breeze that day. When she locked up and drove home that night she tried to figure out why? Was it because she had lunch with a man who seemed to like her, and whom she had to admit she was more than a little attracted to? She giggled like a schoolgirl as she went upstairs to her'apartment. Something sure had picked her up that day, and it wasn't sad Charlie down at the courts, or Betty Willow putting on a demonstration. It had to be Sam.
She let that sink into her mind for a moment. Sam was a cop. Sam was a nice man. She saw that much already. And Sam had asked her out on Sunday. She figured it from today, which was Tuesday. Four more days to get through before a day off.
She had a quick, hot shower and went to sleep right away.
When morning came she lazed in bed, not really wanting to get up. The day before had been so good. She had felt like a high school sophomore getting rushed by a senior. It had been fun, lots of fun. That got her thinking about high school, and the two boys who had meant the most to her. She wondered where they were now.
Rob had introduced her to sex. She laughed thinking about it. Her very first time. She had been a junior, and not very popular. Rob had taken her out three times already. He suggested they go on a bike ride. It was a spur of the moment thing, and she had agreed. She wanted to keep Rob happy so he would take her out again.
They rode out by Spring Creek and down along the water. It was quiet there, away from the road, with nobody to bother them. Good old Rob had planned the whole thing. They sat down beside the stream and threw rocks into the water, then he kissed her. It was a long, serious kiss. She liked it.
"Hey, let's do that again," he said, a little breathlessly.
"Sure." They kissed again and she felt that squishiness steal over her. She knew what that meant and she pulled back.
"Come on, Brit, don't get shy. Don't you like kissing me?"
She nodded.
"And doesn't it make you feel good, kind of warm all over?"
"Yes, Rob."
"Then why not?"
"You know. It can lead to things!"
He kissed her lips gently and looked into her eyes. "Brit, have I ever tried anything, even feel you up?"
She shook her head.
"Then kiss me like you really mean it."
She did. And that time he wormed his tongue into her mouth and rolled over on top of her. She struggled for a moment but he held the kiss, and she felt herself getting hotter. Then his hand came up and covered her breast. She was sure it was burning right through her sweater and blouse and bra, but the longer it stayed there and the longer they kissed, the better it felt.
At last his lips left hers.
"Rob, take your hand off me."
"Come on, doesn't if feel good there? Sure feels great to me. Give me a break. What's it gonna hurt?"
He kissed her again and this time she knew his hand was there and it was rubbing. It kept on rubbing and she was sure it would burn her, but it didn't.
He moved his mouth to her throat and kissed her there, and suddenly she realized his hand had come up under her sweater and her blouse and rested inside, RIGHT ON TOP OF HER BRA.
"Oh, Rob, please no!"
He ignored her. "Brit, you ever felt of a boy before?" Before she could answer him, he took her hand and moved it down between his legs, then up to his fly. To her shock and surprise his fly zipper was open, all the way down. "Go ahead, feel around. I mean, fair is fair, if I feel you, I should expect to let you do the same to me."
Before she could say a word he was kissing her again, and somehow this time her mouth came open easily and his tongue moved in. His hand was rubbing her breast through the bra and she didn't know what to do. Her hand was paralyzed where it lay. She could sense the long lump under his pants, his penis, and it was hot and hard. She'd heard the girls talk, seen the drawings in the sex lecture books.
But now, right here? He wanted her to ... to touch it?
She wished she knew what to do. But there was no one to ask. She was about to move her hand when she felt his hand again. It moved her hand a little and fumbled a minute, then his hand caught hers and pushed it ahead. At once she touched him, his hard penis. It was warm, hot, and long. She rested her fingers against it for a moment and realized she was breathing hard and fast.
That was when he pulled out on the bottom elastic band on her bra. She thought the snap would break, instead he swung her bra up and off her breasts, sliding across them roughly so it lay above them on her chest.
She wanted to cry out, but his tongue filled her mouth. She shivered as his hand moved gently over her bare breast, holding it softly. His hand caught hers again and fitted it around his prick. She gripped it tightly, not knowing what else to do, and he sighed.
But his hand was rubbing her breast, and she knew she could never tell him to stop. Such a surge of feeling! So powerful, so consuming. She LIKED IT! She liked him to feel of her breasts. When she realized this she blinked, then pulled her head to one side.
"I want to sit up, Rob."
"We can't fu ... we can't have any fun sitting up."
"I want to see you, Rob." He let her sit up and proudly showed her his stiff cock.
She held it, then lifted it up and slowly stroked down on it. Rob groaned. She put her hand below and touched his scrotum. Oh, she knew all the words. His balls hung dark and heavy in the hairy sac.
His hands were on her breasts again. He had opened the buttons on her blouse and pushed it aside.
"Brit, darling, I love you. Let's fuck."
CHAPTER FIVE
Years later she realized she had been too surprised and too shocked to react. She had simply sat there, holding his cock in her hand, letting him play with her boobies.
Rob had taken her silence as consent, and pushed her down in the soft grass. He jerked at her skirt, found the zipper and pulled it down with her panties. He slid out of his pants and shorts and pushed her legs apart.
He had not tried to prepare her. He simply lowered his cock toward her crotch and began jabbing. Brit yelped once, then again, and pushed him away.
"You don't know how," she said.
"Do too." .
"Then go easy, don't be so rough."
He bent and kissed her lips, then each of her breasts. He nodded. "Okay, I'll go slow."
She lay there looking at the soft clouds floating in the blue sky. She'd never seen it so blue. She felt such a surge of emotion when he kissed her breasts she was still trying to identify it. She'd never felt that before, not even when she and a girl friend had rubbed off together one night.
Now she waited for him as he put his hands between her legs and began to rub. He found her clit and then her cunt lips. Slowly she felt the lubrication, her love juices begin to seep. His finger jabbed into her and she yelped, but it helped spread the juices.
As a final gesture he spit a big wad of saliva into his big hand and rubbed it over his hot prick. Again he lowered toward the promised land. This time she was amazed at how easily he found the Opening and how slowly he probed in and out. On the third penetration she knew he would make it. SHE WAS GOING TO GET FUCKED. Then he jammed hard and his cock was finally inside her ripped pussy.
"YOU'RE NO LONGER A VIRGIN," a small voice kept yammering at her. She shut it off and realized she was shivering. Her breath came like a steam engine and her whole body began to shake and rattle. It was the grandest thing she had ever known, ten times as good as when she had rubbed off. She reveled in the gush of emotion, then looked at Rob. He had stopped moving. "Brit, did I hurt you?"
She couldn't speak for almost a minute. When the fires died down, she smiled at him.
"You big dope, I was cumming, climaxing. That was the greatest!"
"Hey, then it's my turn."
"Not inside. You pull out before you cum, I don't want to get pregnant!"
He barely heard her. She listened to him panting, and remembering a story one girl had told at noon in the girls' gym glass, she was ready. As soon as she felt him begin to pant, she reached down and pushed him off her. He groaped, but she grabbed his slippery cock and held it as he pumped his hips hard, jamming his prick into her hands, jetting spurt after spurt of hot sticky cum into her hands.
When he finished he lay there groaning.
"Damn, I fucked you, I really fucked you."
"That was your first time, Rob, wasn't it?" He nodded. It made her feel better. They washed up in the stream and got back into their clothes. After that they lay in the grass, feeling each other. Before they left she jacked him off and he went wild, but she wouldn't let him get his cock inside of her again.
In the weeks after that they went bicycling often, and usually found a secluded spot where they could pet. Twice more she let him work his dick inside, but each time made him come out before he climaxed. Rob didn't seem to mind.
By the time she had remembered the whole crazy spring, she was ready for bed. Her shower had been quick and she lay on her pillow, wondering whatever had become of Rob. She knew it was best if she didn't find out. It almost always was a shock and a surprise, and usually not a happy one, to track down old flames.
Before she realized it, morning had come. She went shopping, and when she got back had only half an hour to work on her typing. Then she was back at the courts, selling balls, handing out towels, and trading insults and cracks with the players. Two women players came in who wanted it instruction, so she hired a hanger-on to handle the counter for her. She took out all the cash and told him to make exact change for courts. It was only a half hour and she picked up three dollars each from the women.
The rest of the evening she remembered Sam and wondered if he would be a serious guy, or just a passing fling. It was after eleven when she saw Paul come in. He was wearing the same clothes he had worn the night she picked him up.
"It cost to play here?" he asked at the desk. It was a quiet time, and no one else was in the front.
"Two dollars an hour."
"That much? Wow." He grinned at her and looked around. Two players came out of the locker room.
"Cost anything to watch?"
"Not a thing, right up 'he stairs." Brit watched him go but there was a frown on her pretty face.
Things got busy, they had an exhibition match, and by a quarter to eleven she realized the day was almost over. To her surprise she saw Paul again. He was watching a pair of hand ball players whack around the little black rubber ball. They were the last players on the courts.
Five minutes later he was down at the desk.
"You close up, too?"
"Yes, Paul. I think you'd better be getting home."
"Nope, my old woman would be surprised as hell if I come home this early." He hesitated, looked at her, but she frowned and turned away.
No chance! She screamed at herself. No chance that she was going to even give him the time of day, let alone ... The memory of that wonderful hour swept back over her.
"Come on, kid, get out of here or I'll call the cops. They'll run you downtown for curfew violation."
"You wouldn't do that."
"Hell I wouldn't. Now get your ass out of here, I got work to do."
He was mad. It showed all over him, in his face, the way his hands slapped each other, even in his walk, slow and insolent. At last he pushed through the glass front door and was gone. Brit sagged against the desk and pushed out a pent-up sigh of relief. One hand rubbed her breast without thinking. She was hot just from looking at that little kid. If he'd hung around another ten minutes....
The players quit five minutes before time and she reminded them the showers closed at ten. They grumbled but understood. She was done with her closing up, and this time she did inspect both men's and women's locker rooms to be sure they were empty.
As she came up to her maroon Honda Civic, she was surprised to see someone sitting in it. It was the kid, Paul.
She stopped, but he'd seen her. He waved her to come on.
"How about a ride home? It's not really out of your way."
He grinned and it melted the last of her reserve. She felt her breast swell and heat and the flesh actually tingle against the roughness of her blouse. Damn, how could the kid do all that with just a smile? Or was she doing it?
"Okay, I'll drive you a ways home, but nothing more, understand?" She watched him closely.
Paul shrugged. "Sure, :uck, I didn't ask for anything more. Just because we fucked that one time...."
She moaned. She slid into the car and tried to sit in her seat, but at once she moaned again and leaned toward him. He was so damn sexy it made her tits burn and her head spin. She got her hand on his leg and rubbed up to his crotch, on to his fly. His little prick was as hard as a two by four!
"Oh, Paul!"
"Yeah, I know how you feel. I'm ready!"
She caught his hand and moved it to her breasts. He yelped as she pulled it up under the cloth onto her bare, pulsating skin.
"Oh, yes, Paul, feel me, rub me. Oh, damn, but that feels so good." She reveled in the absolute thrill of it, then fumbled for his zipper. Quickly she pulled it down and pushed through his shorts. It took her a full minute to get his prick out of his shorts and into the open.
"Beautiful, so beautiful!" she crooned. Then she was bending down, kissing his tool, watching it jerk and respond.
"Oh, Kereist, but I want you to fuck me, Paul. Right here, right now!"
"Can't, Brit. We can't even lay down in this little car.
"But I want it, I need it, Paul."
"We can go to your place."
"Take too long. NOW, DAMN IT!"
"How about over in the grass between the buildings?"
"No, I'd be so scared I couldn't cum."
Brit knew. "Darling, just keep rubbing my tits, and keep looking out the window. If a car stops, or if a cop car comes along, be sure to tell me." She was working lower and lower until her lips slipped around his vibrant, jerking cockhead.
"Goddamn," Paul said.
She sucked hard on his cock, then moved her head downward until the prick slanted off her mouth roof and nosed into her throat.
"Shit, you gonna suck me off!"
She couldn't say a thing. She gripped his legs and began sucking and working up and down on his tool. She knew it wouldn't take long. Then she tasted his cock and realized she had some of his cum already. The little shit had jerked off while he was waiting for her! So it would be longer. Still this was probably his first blow-job.
She worked in earnest then, sucking and pumping up and down with her head.
"Fuck, here comes a car ... he's still coming ... now he's going past. Yeah, it didn't even slow down. Wow, you always suck cock this way? It's wild, man, wild. I never been really sucked off before, know that? Hey, your tits feel as good as ever. You do those tit growing exercises? Damn, you got bigger floppers than my mom or my sister. Sis is just fourteen, but she's got some. Yeah, fuck, but nothing like yours."
Paul was talking and watching. Another car turned in toward the courts, but was only backing up to turn around. He relaxed and felt her teeth on his prick.
"Sheeeeet, what you doing? Trying to bite my old pecker? Just don't bite him off, cunt. Oh, sheeeeet, but that's good!" He felt it coming, but held off as long as he could. When it finally hit the fan he blasted it into her mouth, wondering if she would swallow it or spit it out? He didn't know what a girl did with fresh hot cum.
"Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck! Holy shit, but that's great. Why you still sucking? I'm done, you cleaned me out." Then he knew he thought she was sucking his very blood out of his veins.
"Easy, cunt, easy!"
She came off him and laughed. "You really like that, don't you? Now, you want to blow my cunt?"
She sat up and lifted the bottom of her blouse until it was around her neck.
"Darling Paul, instead you just bite on my tits a while. See if you can suck them fuckers off me. When I say bite, I want some tooth marks on them."
He did. She got her finger between her legs just in time, and the second time he bit hard she twanged her clit three times and the sudden pleasure pain cascaded down on her with a vibrating, rolling climax that made her think she was adrift at sea, bobbing up and down, and a shark was chawing at her tits.
When she came down, she saw the police car turn into the parking lot.
"Up, damn it, the fuzz is here. Zip up your goddamn pants!"
She jerked down her blouse and put on her seat belt, then helped him with his just as the cruiser backed in beside her so the cop at the wheel looked right in her driver's side window. She had rolled it down. She looked up and waved. "Any trouble, Miss?"
"Flooded it, I guess. They say to let it sit for five minutes, so I did. If it won't start this time, could you call Triple A for me?"
"Sure, give it a try."
She turned on the starter and let it grind a little even though the little four-banger was purring away. She looked up and flashed him a smile. She was delighted to see he was in uniform and didn't have a beard, so he wasn't Sam.
"Your big black and white police car scared poor little Mitsy here I guess, officer. Thanks a lot."
She turned on the lights and backed out. As the cruiser sat there and followed her from the lot, sweat beaded her forehead. Not "glow" or "perspiration", this was good old-fashioned horse sweat. She was scared, and not afraid to admit it. She drove silently for a block after the prowl car turned off, then she pulled to the curb and fell over the wheel.
"Oh, goddamn, but that was close. Do you know what would have happened if that cop had caught you...?" She stopped. He looked scared too, and he hadn't said a word. But no need to say anything about .what would have happened to her ... child molestation, sex perversion, contributing to the delinquency of a minor, and that was just a start. She could have pulled twenty years if that cop had been a little faster and had turned off his lights. She felt so weak she didn't know if she could drive.
"Hey, you all right? I mean the pig is gone, he can't hurt us. I ain't afraid of no pig anyway. You sure did cum back there. Hope I didn't hurt your tits."
She shook her head and sat up. She had to get the kid home and then home herself. She was supposed to have a two hour workout tomorrow getting ready for the U.S. Women's Open in San Diego. She let Paul off at the same corner she had before.
"Paul, this is the last of it. Don't come around the courts unless you've got two dollars and an appointment to play. I'll sick a cop on you. This is over, finished. Promise me you won't bother me down at work."
He frowned, rubbed his cock, then snorted. "I thought we was making it great ... hell, if you say so."
He turned and walked away from the car without another word.
Ten minutes later she was home. She pulled into her parking spot and for a moment her heart refused to beat. Sitting in the spot right beside hers was the big all black police car that Sam drove. It even had his number 366 on the side.
She got out of her car quickly, then saw him ease out of his side door.
"Hi, hard day at the office?"
"Right, you on duty?"
"Just finished a messy one, wondered if you were home yet."
He left it hanging there. She shrugged, it was natural enough. He was a man and men liked cunt and he hadn't even tried to get into hers yet. Not until now. So she did the natural thing.
"Come on up for a sandwich or a drink?"
"Got a toaster?"
"Sure."
"Got any peanut butter?"
"Peanut butter? Do you believe in peanut butter?" He nodded.
"Fact is I do, creamy style or crunchy?" He took her arm and walked her up the steps. She had to giggle.
"No lie, peanut butter?"
"Peanut butter eaters make better lovers, didn't you know?" he asked.
She shook her head, still laughing, and opened the door.
Inside, he took over. He plugged in the toaster, selected some dark cracked kernel bread and toasted two slices.
"Honey!" he shouted, looking in her cupboard. "Fantastic. There's nothing better than peanut butter and honey on toast, with a glass of cold milk."
"Sam, you work all day and half the night too?"
"Usually."
"When did you go to work this morning?"
"About seven-thirty."
"That's a long day."
"People are unthinking and impolite about the time they pick to get killed."
"Was it a bad one?"
He glanced up, his eyes tired, his face showing that he really didn't want to talk about it. "Yes, a camping hatchet and a husband who couldn't wait two months for a divorce."
"Oh, Sam, I'm sorry."
"So's the husband. He didn't even try to get away, just sat there as a neighbor called the police." He looked up and rubbed his hand across his face. "You got any jam or jelly in this place?"
A half hour later they had watched part of Johnny Carson, each with three pieces of toast and jam and jelly, and a glass of milk.
"Tired?" he asked.
"Yes, habit I guess. If you work 8 to 4, you stay up for seven or eight more hours before going to bed. But when I get home at twelve I usually drop into bed. Why don't I stay up until seven in the morning, then go to bed?"
"Habit." They sat on the living room rug, eating off the coffee table and watching Johnny close his show. "I've developed another habit."
"What's that, Sam?"
"Kissing pretty girls." He reached over, held her cheeks in his big hands and kissed her lips tenderly. "Thanks, I needed that."
He chuckled, then reached over and kissed her again, a little firmer, more sure of himself. When his lips came away she opened her eyes and watched him. When he looked up, she smiled.
"May I ask a question?" she asked. "If we move up on the couch, would you kiss me again?"
"Only if you don't mind the taste of peanut butter."
A moment later they nestled on the couch, his arms around her, her breast pressing against the side of his chest.
"Kissing a beard isn't so bad."
"Not so bad, it's great."
"Only if you can find your way through all the brush to the picnic grounds."
His kiss was firm and hard then demanding, an adult, let's-cut-the-fooling-around kiss. She sighed softly and leaned back in his arms. She was going to let Sam Simon take her down the primrose path just as far as he wanted to.
CHAPTER SIX
Sam kissed her again and they snuggled deeper and flatter on the long sofa. She felt a soft glow of pleasure creep up on her and felt a tingle come in her breasts. Then he rolled half on top of her and his kiss was demanding, his tongue jammed into her willing mouth, and he moaned softly.
A moment later he broke off the kiss and waited until she opened her eyes. His hand moved up and closed over a breast.
"Brit, do you mind?"
She looked down at his hand, then up at him. Her smile was genuine. "I don't mind, Sam. I'll like it."
His hand moved smoothly over her blouse, massaging the breast underneath. Their kisses were stronger, evenly spaced and warmer. She wanted to throw off her clothes and grab his prick and chew on it, but she knew this wasn't the time, not yet. She caught one of his hands and brought it up under her blouse. He sucked in a quick breath when he found she wore no bra.
Her breasts burned and throbbed as he petted them. He opened the blouse and spread it back, admiring her tits, then reached down and softly kissed each one. Before she realized what happened, he stood up.
"Sam?"
"Brit, I really didn't mean to rape you, I wanted to kiss you and fool around a little, but I usually don't try to...."
"Sam, I've been married before, remember? I know all about sex. And so do you. If you want to...."
"Brit, maybe I'm a little old-fashioned, but...."
She stood up and touched his lips with her fingers.
"Sam, you don't have to explain. I'm glad you don't find me repulsive or unresponsive." She glanced down at the heavy bulge at his fly. "We don't have to rush into anything."
"Thanks, Brit, you said just the right thing." He grabbed his jacket and the .38 police special revolver he had wrapped inside it, and turned to the door.
"How about a late date tomorrow night?"
"Love it."
She stood there watching him go down the dark stairs and drive away. She hadn't buttoned up the blouse, but nobody was there to see. Back inside she turned out the living room lights and went into the bedroom. For the first time in years she wondered what it would be like ... to be married ... to Sam Simon.
The next morning she worked for almost three hours on her typing. She was getting better, she had to be. She was typing from a gothic novel, and sometimes she got so interested in the story she forgot to type. But it was improving. Again the newspaper gave her little hope. She called two places for "light" typing and filing, but both jobs had been filled. A third one said it was still open, but the girl was sure the boss wanted somebody under twenty-five.
As soon as she got to work, Will Jamison called her into his office.
"Jerry will cover the desk for a while," he said, reaching to unfasten his tie.
Brit frowned. "Just like that, Will?"
He stopped. "Brit, honey, it's me, Will. I got an itch."
"What about me, Will? What if I don't have an itch?"
"Hey, you telling me no?"
"Will, your fringe-benefit plan is all management oriented."
"Brit, honey, you're right." He pulled off his tie. "We'll have to make some changes, like cut your work hours."
"What's a fuck worth, Will, an hour off? You really trying to turn me into a whore? Go downtown and get yourself a massage. They'll massage it anyway you want it."
"Brit, honey, I don't understand. Every other time you haven't minded."
"Will, I need the job. I make you mad and you fire me. So I let you fuck around."
"And now?"
"I still need the job. I just found some guts, I guess."
He stopped and turned. "Okay, Brit. Now if I have to let you go, you've got it figured. But how the hell can I make it up to you?"
"Sponsor me in the nationals, and the six regionals."
Will gulped. "You mean plane fare, entrance fee, hotels?"
"Right."
"I'll have to think about it." She walked toward him, patted the lump at his crotch and grinned. "I'll think about your couch."
Outside at the desk, Jerry was surprised to see her. "Shove off, Jerry," she said. "Go work on your backhand, it's lousy."
After that she didn't see Will the rest of the day. Paul sneaked in once about four, but she picked up the phone and pretended to dial, and he slid out the door and vanished.
Brit tried to straighten out her thinking. Where did she get the guts to stand up to Will? It might be her sudden attachment to a real cop. Could Sam have affected her so much, so soon? She was sure Paul had nothing to do with it. He was done, through; he wouldn't be back, she was sure.
She had her two-hour workout with Maxine, one of the good women players in town. They didn't keep score, just played point after point as hard as they could, flat out the way they would in a tournament. Both were exhausted after the match and they had long showers, then talked over the game. Maxine decided that Brit was relaxing a little too much on her backhand and getting lazy moving across court. Brit promised to work on both points.
She relived the last night with Sam. It had been so ... well, kind of like high school again, that first year she had dated, when the boys had been shy and fun to be with without every date a fight for her honor. But Sam wasn't a kid, he valued things, and she had the idea he valued her.
The day spun by, and the evening. She had just closed up the men's side when she checked the women's locker room. Paul sat just inside the door, his pants and shorts off and his long skinny prick hard as an axe handle.
"Paul!"
"Hey, yeah, this is lots better than out there in the dark. It's perfect. Come on, no cop's gonna scare you in here."
Brit felt in a dream as he caught her hand and pulled her inside. For one long, wild moment she wanted him, then she didn't. But as quickly as she changed her mind, it flipped the other way. He drew her down beside him on the couch and pushed his hand under her blouse. His hand seared across her bare stomach, then lanced onto her nearest tit, and Brit almost climaxed.
Suddenly she was hot and ready. She'd never exploded that way before. She jerked off her blouse and threw it across the locker room.
"Paul, you fucky little cock, what are you doing here?"
He shrugged and grabbed both her tits. "I think you like cock."
"I do, Paul. I like to fuck and suck and mess around lots of ways. Now kiss me."
"Where?"
"On my cunt."
Paul laughed and kissed her lips instead, and she pulled him down flat on the couch on top of her. His big prick pushed against her belly. She made herself slow down and held his kiss as long as she could, then let off and pulled his hands up to her tits.
"Rub me, darling. Play with my boobies."
His hands worked their magic on her half orbs. He smoothed them, rubbed them, snapped her nipples with his fingers, and then moved his mouth down. She held his mouth on one breast as it boiled and boiled, only when she thought she was going to cum did she move him to the other breast. Goddamn, but she was building up a fucking head of steam! She couldn't keep her hands off him. First she took off his shirt and rubbed his chest. When she got him off her second breast, she made him strip and stand up in front of her. He laughed and held his hands behind him. She went down on her knees and sucked his long kiddie cock into her mouth, chewed it until she almost shot her wad again and came off him.
"Damn, but I don't know why you're so sexy. Paul, I've fucked cocks twice as big as yours, know that? But your skinny little pole gives me a jolt like lightning." She laughed and put her hands on her crotch, still covered with clothes. "Now come on, little fucker, strip the rest of my clothes off and kiss my pussy."
He gulped but undressed her and pushed her down on the couch. He spread her knees and went down between them, then looked up.
"Really put my lips right on your cunt?"
"Fuck yes! I sucked off your cock, didn't I?"
He nodded. He went down slowly, kissed the hairs around the red lips, then bounced down, touched her twat with his lips, and came up. Only her hands were there and held him on her cum center. He squirmed a minute, then felt her move.
Brit vaporized. She had never felt a climax quite like that one before. She shook very little, but her hips humped up like a man when he's climaxing, and she shrieked loud and long. The whole world turned a deep purple and she hoped it would never fade. As it faded she had a great idea. As soon as she could move, she got up and began pulling on her skirt and blouse. She left the panties where they had fallen.
"Paul, I've got a beautiful idea, you game to try it?"
"Sure, long as it's fucking."
"Good. Get dressed, leave off your shorts. We got to be ready for fast action."
Five minutes later they locked the courts and left, drove two blocks toward a little park next to a school. Brit drove two blocks more and stopped in front of a house. They closed her car doors quietly and walked back to the park.
"Right over there behind those bushes," she whispered.
They ran to them and sat on the grass. The bushes had grown down so they were shielded from the street, but not from the playground which was dark.
"Hey, want to fuck me in the moonlight?" she asked.
Paul grinned. He grabbed her tits and began to rub them.
"You don't have to start over, I'm hot enough to take on half the Navy tonight." She lay down on the grass and spread her legs. "Just open your fly, don't take down your pants, then we can move if somebody comes."
They had been whispering. Just as he pulled his stiff prick from his pants, a car drove past on the street. Its bright lights sent a soft glancing sheen of light across the top of the four-foot high bushes.
"Great," Brit said softly. "Nobody can see us. Go ahead."
He had a little trouble getting down on her with his pants still on. He pushed her skirt high over her hips, and lifted her knees. Brit was trying to remember when the last time she got fucked with her bare ass on the grass. She couldn't. Must have been just after high school on one of those damned picnics they used to take. Kerist, but those had been wild!
She felt the skinny cock dip into her juicy pussy and the kid groan on top of her. He must be ready to shoot off at any minute, she thought. Instead he began humping his boycock into her, jamming her along on the grass a little. Bet she would get some grass strains. Hell, so what? She listened to his breath building, his body begin to stiffen.
Then a car came by and a bright spotlight began flashing into the bushes. A cop car!
"Easy, shithead! Don't move when the spotlight hits this bush. Freeze."
"I can't, I'm cumming!"
"Freeze or the next time you cum will be in Juvenile Hall!"
She didn't know if he could hold still. The beam skipped the bushes next to theirs, then moved slowly across their spot of brush. It seemed like a full ten minutes as the car rolled past. They were almost a hundred feet from the street and the beam faded a little before it got there. Still she was glad they both had on dark clothes, and no white ass sticking up in the air. Paul pounded his prick into her at that very second, then again and twice more. As he hit her clit the fourth time, the beam slid past them into the next bush.
Brit held her breath. She could tell the patrol car had slowed, the light jerked back to their bush and moved over it again, slowly, but this time Paul held still. The car speeded up then and swung on around the block. That was when she remembered the layout. The little league field was right across from them, and driving and parking areas ran up to a hundred yards of this fence and bushes. The cop car could be moving around to spotlight everything from that side too! They had to finish and get moving.
She pumped up for him and he drove his dick into her sopping cunt six more times, then jerked it out.
"Hell, I'm getting the fuck out of here."
"Me too," Brit said and laughed softly. "How'd you like that kind of a fuck, one that you almost get nailed by the fuzz?"
He buttoned up his pants and she pulled down her skirt, then they stood up and he looked at the sidewalk. It was clear and the cop car was gone.
"Damn, it was good, Brit, but I was scared shitless. No lie. I almost crapped my pants."
They walked down the sidewalk to her car and got in.
"I was scared too, Paul. But it was wild." She drove him to the corner where she usually let him off. "But Paul, this is the last time. I mean it. I'll give you ten dollars, if you promise to stay away. I just can't take the risks any more."
He nodded. "Okay, I promise. Sure is fun fucking you, though. Ain't it fun for you too?"
"Yes."
"Then why we got to stop?"
"Because I've met a very nice man, and I just can't risk it any more. I want to make love only with him. It's kind of like being in love or being married, I guess."
"How about just twice more?"
She let go of the bill. "No, Paul. And if you come back to the courts, I'll call the police and swear that you stole a racket from us."
"Damn, you're good pussy, good fucking."
"I like your cock and balls too, Paul, but it has to end sometime."
He slid out of the car, looking back inside.
"Hell, you're a good fuck." He turned and walked down the street.
Brit sat there a moment, then made a U turn and headed for home. She was smiling at his final comment. She was a good fuck. No man had ever contested that idea. But now ... now she wanted to try to be a little more than that to just one man, if she could. As she thought about it, she realized that was a very big "if." Sam had not really said anything serious yet. He just didn't try to fuck her the first time out ... was that serious?
Sam, dear Sam. Suddenly she wondered if he was there, waiting for her? In the next stroke of the clock, she hoped that he was waiting. Then she wasn't sure what she wanted. She drove around the block once trying to make up her mind if she should turn in. Then she did, and with a sigh of relief, saw that his big cruiser wasn't parked anywhere near her end of the lot.
Nor was he on the landing. She went into her apartment, had a quick snack and showered. For a moment she went over the wild sex scenes she had played that night. It had been wild. Was she deliberately exposing herself a little more each time so she wouldn't get caught?
No, of course not. That was ridiculous. She didn't want to get caught with a juvenile, especially not one with his prick jammed into her cunt.
She got out of the shower and made a cup of hot cocoa, then dropped onto the sheets and fell asleep gently. She dreamed about Sam, how gentle, how kind, how straight he was. She dreamed that he wouldn't fuck her until they were married. She wasn't holding out, he was. It was to persuade her that they should get married all legal. Why had she been putting it off? The dream ended before she found out. She stirred, waking for a moment, then slid back into sleep that lasted dreamless until the morning alarm.
She was hard at work typing when her doorbell rang. When she got to the door, she found Sam leaning against the wall.
"Hi."
"Hi, Sam. Had breakfast?"
He nodded. "Got some coffee?"
She opened the screen and he came in.
"Working?"
"Yep, always."
"You look tired."
Sam sighed. He rubbed his hand over his face and beard and nodded. "Yeah, I guess I am. I can't figure out this damned killing. The guy had no reason in the world for chopping that woman up. This one got to me. Most of them don't. Sorry."
He took the cup of coffee she handed him and drank it black. When it was gone, he laughed. "I must make a lousy visitor. How about lunch?"
"How about lunch here?"
"Fine. You always have lunch at ten in the morning?"
"No." She laughed. "Sam, do you always say what you feel and think?"
"I try. It gets me in trouble."
"Good. Me too. Sam, I like you." She was standing in front of the chair he had tilted back against the wall. "Sam, you're gentle, and quiet, and considerate. I do like you."
He stared at her, then stood up and put his arms around her, pulling her tightly against his chest, laying her head on his shoulder. "Hey, I'm glad you said that, lady. I like you too."
He let her go a little so he could kiss her lips gently, then he dropped his hands.
"Right, I like you. A soft mouth, and huge eyes with that little-girl-lost look, and your...."
"My big tits?"
He laughed. "Sure, your big tits, and your slim hips and good legs. I'm really a leg man. You've got it all, and I even like the way you talk."
"How about some more coffee?"
They moved into the little kitchen and sat across from each other and had another cup of coffee, then he went down to his prowl car to report in and she opened a can of soup and made sandwiches. It all seemed so right, so natural, so good.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The days snarled by. She was working out hard for the Nationals down at San Diego. They would be coming in a month. She'd go to those whether the courts sponsored her or not. She had friends she could stay with. She saw Paul once, but he faded away when she reached for the phone and he never showed up in the women's head.
Now it was five till eleven and she warned the two players that their time was almost up. Why did it come down to only two guys there at closing time? She closed up the women's side as she waited for the last two men in the locker room. When they came out she waved to them and turned off the office lights, leaving on only the night safety bulbs. As she reached into the men's locker room, she heard the shower running. Damn, somebody had forgot it. She went in, kicking aside towels and a discarded jock strap, and stepped through the bat wings into the shower room. Through the steam she couldn't see which one it was. She moved a step forward then felt arms go around her. She thought of screaming but stifled it.
"Okay, wise guy, let go," she said.
There was a laugh and the shower cut off. Ahead of her she saw Paul come out of the steam.
"Paul...?"
"Just me and my buddy, Brit fucker. Nothing to worry about, 'ceptin' you got way too many clothes on."
The boy holding her laughed again.
Paul was naked, and dripping with water. His cock began to grow as she watched it and, before he reached for her tits, it was already hard and stiff.
She fought against the thought, the scene, the idea. No, she would not play around with him, and certainly not with two at once, that was obscene!
But his cock bounced so invitingly. His sleek, tanned young skin invited her touch, and the sac of balls between his legs swung as if urging her to action.
Paul's hands moved to her breasts and opened the buttons of the covering, and a moment later, when his hands closed around her tits, Brit silently cursed the day she had used the silicone.
For a moment she forgot the boy behind her. When Paul touched her breasts the arms around her waist released her, but she didn't move, she couldn't move. Paul's hands kept busy and she was aware that the boy behind her was removing her blouse. It fell away easily, then his hands worked down to her hips and began playing with her asscheeks. She was about to stop him when Paul reached in and kissed her, his tongue darting between her lips and she groaned.
She was aware of the spanks the other boy gave her on her ass. At first she was curious, then the warmth crept into her and she realized she liked it. Damn, but it made her old twat sit up and dance! The slaps got harder and harder then stopped. A hand snaked between her legs and she realized too late that she had moved her legs, spread them for the hand.
"Oh, goddamn that feels good!" she shrieked, coming off Paul's mouth. The other kid was playing with her pussy. His fingers went around her panties and into her snatch, so easy, so practiced.
This kid knew his way around a cunt.
She was panting like an overheated cocker spaniel. Frantically she looked around, but there wasn't any couch here.
"The two benches, pull them together," she said. The boys nodded and for the first time she saw the second kid. He was short and fat, with a bulge around his gut from milkshakes and just too much food. But in his right hand he held a stiff cock that was the biggest around prick she had seen in years. It must be two inches in diameter, she thought. It never would go inside of her. A tremble surged through her legs and bottomed out in her cunt. But what a prick to have try to jam into her pussy!
The boys got the benches together, then spread out three towels on the flat surface and sat down. She went between them.
"Hey, no fair, you guys strip. I'll lock the door. Nobody's gonna break in on our little fuck party."
After they stripped she sat between them, Paul tall and flat, the other kid short and fat. But each had hard cocks. They had their hands all over her. The fat boy got his hand on her pussy and jammed two fingers up her until she groaned.
"I don't think you're big enough," he said.
"Fuck you, fat boy, I can take all of your dick and then some."
"Don't think so. Bones too small."
"Shit!"
She lay down on her back on the benches. "Come on, jam it into me, I'll show you I can take it all." He was over her then, and she realized he'd tricked her. He spit on his cock, then on her pussy to help, and wedged up between her legs.
His cock was big. She'd never seen anything like it. Only four inches long, but huge. He knew how to work it. Slowly he ground it into her pussy lips, jabbing and coming out, jabbing again. She felt the tissue swell and stretch. Stretch more.
"Oh, God, go slow. Easy damn it!"
"Told you my old peter was too big for your little hole."
"No, go ahead, push again, grind it in."
He jabbed harder, and she groaned. It was a pleasure/pain that she hadn't felt for years. It hurt like hell, hurt so bad she wanted to bawl, but it felt so good at the same time she wanted to sing! Tremendous. What a battering ram this kid had. What would he be like when he was eighteen?
"More, damn it, up my chute, push more, hump your hips, jam your cock into me!"
He did. Brit screamed. Then the pain stopped, it was inside her cunt, the big arrow prickhead had broken through and it was just mechanics now, a little lubrication and a few strokes.
She realized she was sweating. He was in. She marveled at the way his prick massaged the inside walls of her cunt. It took a real cock to get action in there!
The fat boy was crying.
"Hey, you didn't hurt yourself, did you?" she asked.
He shook his head. "No, just the first time I ever got my dick inside. Most girls won't even let me try. Three I tried, I couldn't get it inside."
She pulled his face down and kissed him. "Lover, you sure did get it inside me. Want to let it soak a minute? You about ready to cum?"
He nodded.
"Just relax a minute, your hard-on'll last longer that way and we'll have more fun." She turned to Paul. "You cum yet?"
He shook his head. "Not in the last couple of minutes."
"Good, let's fuck and suck, fuck and suck. Hey, that's a little rhyme."
"What's it mean?"
"What do you think, you pussy kisser? I'll fuck one of you and suck the other. Got a spare cock handy?"
Paul grinned and pushed up beside her, she turned him around and let her head hang off the bench. He got on his knees and his prick came the wrong way. At last she leaned her head back like a sword swallower and got his prick into her mouth. She had wanted to try it this way, and it worked. She could take all of his boycock into her mouth. His cockhead slid into her throat cavity and she left it there a minute, then edged it farther down until she felt his cock hairs in her teeth. Deep throat! Fuck, she could do that too. She could eat cock deep throat just as well as anybody. Only what happened when the cock began to bounce and cum?
She didn't have long to wait. Over her Paul was sweating and swearing. He knew where his prick had penetrated and he was scared. But the jism was cumming. He held it down like the time in school when he jacked off in History class and only the girl right across from him knew it. She reached over and touched his arm, then made a circle of her thumb and finger and jammed her first finger from the other hand into it. Paul had fucked her right after school in a vacant lot.
Now he let the jism spurt out carefully. When it was gone he pulled his prick out of her easily. She bit him at the last minute and grinned.
"How'd you like the deep throat?"
"It hurt down there?"
"Yeah, a little, but it just takes some practice."
The fat boy over her began to groan and hump. He couldn't hold it any longer. He pounded and grunted like a hog as he let fly with his load of cum.
Brit realized he was crushing her. He must weigh twice what Paul did. She wondered for a moment what his name was, then resisted the idea of finding out. She was sure she'd never see him again after that night.
She lay there a moment reflecting. She'd never had two cocks at once before! Not even in her wild high school days had she had two boys at the same time. What a crunch of feelings, of emotions, all surging toward one final buildup.
She pushed up on the fat boy.
"Out," she said. His fat cock came out and it made a sucking sound that started them all laughing. Brit took a towel and wiped off her cunt, then grabbed Paul by his limp prick and pulled him toward her crotch.
"Okay, lover, eat my pussy. Really eat it this time, get your tongue inside me."
"Aw, shit...."
"You do and you'll clean it up. Eat cunt."
Brit started to build up her hotness the minute she saw the kids in the showers, and it kept piling up and up, higher and higher. Somehow there was no peak when she sucked off Paul, or when the fat cock ploughed up her twat. It was another slow build as she felt the youth go down between her up-spread knees. His fingers on her soft inner thighs set the fuse in motion.
As his hands moved around her pussy and spread the hairs, she climbed again, and when his lips touched her cunt lips, she yelped.
"Oh, damn. Oh, damn. Oh, damn. That's good, good, good. Yes, damn it, oh glory fuck, but that's delicious. Eat me, you cuntsucker, eat me all day! Kerist, but that's the most, out of sight!" She surged then, her hips lifting until she felt his tongue groove into her slot. He pushed it down and she knew it was inside her.
The sudden rush of spontaneous powerful feeling broke over her like a giant comber, smashing the breath from her lungs, flattening her big tits, distorting her face into a super spasm of delicious ecstasy. She whirled into the heavens, then burrowed through the center of the earth, slashing, ripping out the other side and flew around the moon. It was so incredible, so spontaneous, so rapture filled, that she could only lay there, moaning softly, mumbling, and moaning again. It was five minutes before she came totally back to reality.
She knew the boys were playing with her, with her tits, pushing their fingers up her cunt. She didn't care. They could tear her apart as long as they put her back together. Just so she could fuck again.
She sat up, brushing them aside.
Gradually things came back in focus. She was sitting in the men's locker room at the courts with two naked minors. Jesus H. Kerist, what was she thinking about?
She stood up and grabbed at her clothes. "Party's over, boys. I've got to get home. I'm late and I got to fly. Get your clothes on and get the hell out of here." She stared at the chubby one. "Fat boy with big cock, I see you around here again, I'll call for a cop and charge you with making obscene propositions. Your ass'll wind up in jail. Now cut out!"
They both went. She watched them out the front door and made sure it was locked. Then she put her shoes on and finished closing up. She slipped again. Damn it, why couldn't she keep her damned cunt under control? Hell, she was just human. Show a woman two naked teenage boys and what the fuck do you think most of them would do? Right, strip and fuck and suck.
She got home ten minutes later. There was no cop car there and she was glad. She half expected to see Sam the next morning for breakfast, and maybe lunch.
That night she wasn't sleepy. She sat up and watched Johnny Carson sign off, then looked at the Tomorrow show, and finally wound up with a movie. It wasn't over until three and by that time she had fallen asleep in the chair. She never did get into bed that night, and was sour and grouchy when she got up about eight. She had a long hot shower and that helped. She was still in her robe when Sam came in about ten.
He had on his snake shirt again, a pair of patched Levi's and a pair of nine-inch boots. His beard hadn't been combed or trimmed and his hair was growing longer. He looked like a genuine wild man.
But he looked good. His soft blue eyes sparkled as he saw the robe. He came in, kissed her firmly on the mouth and reached down and untied the belt of her robe. She didn't move. He spread the robe apart and looked at her naked body.
"Damn nice," he said. He bent and kissed a breast, then straightened, closed the robe, and made a bow in the belt.
"Well, good morning!" She stared at him a minute. "Did I pass inspection?"
"Damn nice," he said again, the touch of a smile on his face.
"Now do I reach for your fly and unzip it?"
"Probably not. You got any coffee?"
She laughed. "That's what I call a practical man. He comes into my house, strips off my clothes, takes a good look, then covers me up and says 'You got any coffee?' "
They went to the kitchen and she poured him a cup and sat down across from him. "You've never heard that girls like sex too, that they like to get fucked once in a while?"
He sipped the coffee then laughed. "Did you know that in a human being over thirty the sex drive's highly over rated? That some ninety percent of the infidelity in marriage and promiscuous sexual behavior outside of marriage is for other than sexual reasons? Usually it's to satisfy some deep-seated psychological need or deficiency of the individual."
"You never get sexed up?"
He stirred the coffee with a spoon to cool it. "Sure, In court my ex-wife called me an insatiable sexual animal."
"Good," Brit said, and they both laughed.
"How's your hatchet man?"
"Contrite, still in shock. He'll get twenty years and be out in seven, a model prisoner. Once he gets outside he'll never so much as break a parking law again."
After coffee he went down to check in on his radio, then came back. "I've got to go. Big hassle downtown." He sat down on the sofa. She went down beside him.
"Brit, have you ever thought much about the Police Department?"
"What do you mean?"
"Just think about the Department, it's more than just a job for a guy. It becomes a big part of him."
"Now what does that mean?"
"Just think about it."
"And right away you know what I'm thinking? I'm starting to wonder if this guy is serious, and if we might be able to get along, if it would work out. When you start throwing those kind of ideas around, the least you can do is really kiss a girl."
His arms went around her and his mouth found hers. She never wanted it to end. He crushed her breasts to his chest, then eased and she took his hand and put it over her tit. He rubbed them gently, then his tongue broke through into her mouth, and Brit sighed gently and nestled deeper into his protective arms.
Her breasts were heating up, burning brightly, then she remembered he had to go downtown.
"You got a spare fifteen minutes?" she asked.
He shook his head, petted her tits again and kissed her lips. "I'm late now. You think about it. Just and idea, something we can kick around."
She blinked as she watched him. "Sam, it wouldn't take much kicking around on my part."
He bent and kissed her breast through the robe then stood.
"I'll be over tonight, after you get off work."
He turned and walked out the door, and she could hear him running down the stairs.
She sat there for ten minutes. Had she just been propositioned or proposed to? She'd heard about the department, police wives, part-time police widows, and real police widows. But wasn't that better than the racquet ball center, and Will and Paul? But wouldn't there be lots of times like now, when she wanted him to hold her and make love, but he had to rush downtown? She knew there would, but it didn't seem to matter. She jumped up and spun around, her arms in the air. She had been proposed to! She had a chance at marriage again, a second chance, and she was going to make this one the best ever. She stopped and sobered. Of course she still had to convince Sam it would work. Brit grinned slowly. One good night in bed with him should be enough to talk him into it. He liked her big tits. Maybe that silicone would pay off yet.
CHAPTER EIGHT
She got through the rest of the day in a pink cloud. Will had asked her about the sponsoring again, to give him an estimate on costs, and she had done so, not really sure what she had said. He grumbled when he looked at the paper.
Finally she closed up and was on her way home. She hoped Sam wasn't there before her, but he probably would be. She wanted to dress up, to put on something slinky and low cut and sexy as hell.
As she drove into the parking spot she grinned, because there was no cop car. She hurried out of her Honda and ran up the stairs. This was going to be a night that could just turn her whole life around. She was going to do the job right.
Suddenly the apartment looked drab, dirty, cluttered, with everything out of place. No, no, no! She scolded herself. He wouldn't be looking at the damned apartment. She flew into the bath and showered quickly, powdered and sprayed and pulled on her best dress, a slinky, sleek, sexy one of basic blue that set off her figure delightfully. It left a deep cleavage showing part of the swell of each breast. There was nothing she could do with her hair. She brushed it and combed it and forgot it.
She was finishing with the dabs of perfume when she heard the bell. One last glance in the mirror. She smiled at the pretty girl reflected there and ran for the front door.
Sam had combed his hair, wore a sports shirt and his beard even looked trimmed. He had on flare slacks and a pair of brown loafers. He looked marvelous.
"Hey, you look absolutely fantastic," Brit said as he came in.
He nodded, kissed her offered cheek and walked to the far wall, his face a stiff mask of worry or anger, she wasn't sure which. All at once she realized she really didn't know this man very well.
He turned and stared at her. "Damn it, Brit, you got the wrong idea this morning. I wasn't proposing. I don't think I want to get married again. Once suckered, twice shy." He looked up. Before she could say anything, he hurried on. "Every time I look at you I get all tangled up. I feel like I'm sixteen and asking you to a high school dance."
"How about a drink?"
He shook his head. He walked back to her, caught her hand and led her into the couch. They sat down with two feet of space separating them.
"Look, Brit, I do like you. It seemed so damned natural to come here, to kiss you, to open your robe this morning and admire your beautiful body. It just seems right, like we could get along."
She moved over beside him and leaned in, kissing his lips hard, then pushing back.
"Sam, I understand, I know what you're saying. After being hurt so badly, you don't want to provide an opening for someone to hurt you again. There's no time limit. We're in no rush. Why not let things just move along, set their own pace?" She stopped and kissed his forehead then slid back.
"Now, let's start over. Sam, I like that shirt and slacks. I've never seen you dressed up before. You look great."
His face had broken from the frown, the edge of a smile stole into one corner.
"Beautiful," he said. "I've never seen you dressed up before either." This time he moved to her and she saw the gleam in his eye. She met his lips and after a moment opened her mouth. She didn't have to move his hand this time, it worked through the low neckline and his strong hand closed firmly around her tit.
They were half lying on the couch. She hunched and slid down the rest of the way, smiling at him. He grinned, moved her legs against the back of the couch and lay beside her, half over her. She welcomed the firmness of his hard body on hers.
They kissed again and this time she prayed that it would never end. His hand found her other breast and she sighed softly. When his lips left hers, she sighed again.
"Oh, yes, Sam. Please, please."
He pushed the straps of the gown off her shoulders, letting the silky fabric fall to her waist. Sam reached for each breast and, as he did, she put her hand down over his fly. The hardness was there. She worked down his fly and her hand stole inside.
He kissed her tits and she sighed and stroked his long pubic hair.
"Oh, yes, darling Sam, yes! But slow, let's make it last. We have all night.
He looked up at her and nodded. "We may have a lot longer than that."
The next morning Britt woke up at seven. For a moment she forgot what had happened. She looked beside her and saw the man's head on the pillow and smiled. So good, so good. She kissed his cheek up where the whiskers didn't grow, and he mumbled, then sat up.
"It's fun kissing you good morning."
"I have to report in by eight," he said, then kissed her.
She made him breakfast and got him out of the apartment on time, then collapsed. She stared at her typewriter, but just didn't feel like typing. Again and again and again she went over the night. Three delicious times they had made love, each one better than the last. When they had finally fallen asleep about four in the morning, nothing had been decided.
Now she understood he thought they might be able to live together, not married, just shacking up. Or "being with" each other as they say in England. So why not? What would it hurt? They were both adults. Neither of them would get fired because of it. Thousands of couples did it all the time. Then if it didn't last, there would be no messy court battle: She had just cleaned up the breakfast things and was thinking about going back to bed when she heard the front door open. She had on her robe, over nothing, and she waited, thinking it must be Sam coming back for something he had forgotten.
But he didn't come into the kitchen. She frowned and went around the alcove area into the small living room. The door was closed and the shades pulled down, and standing in the middle of the living room was Lonny, her big black kid fucker from two months earlier. He had his black hand wrapped around his pinkish black cock, which jolted upright out of his hand as stiff as a table leg.
"Hlya, Brit, you and me got a score to settle."
She wanted to scream, but what good would that have done? Just bring that little old man next door who couldn't help. She'd talk him out of it. She tried the casual approach.
"Lonny, haven't seen you in a long time."
"No, not since you locked me in the women's can down at the courts. You enjoy that?"
"Then that was you in there, Lonny. Honest to Christ, I didn't know. I realized I might have locked somebody in, but there hadn't been any women around since about nine that night, so I just figured it was clear."
"I was waiting to fuck you, Brit."
"I told you that was over, Lonny, never again."
"Uh-huh."
She looked closer at him. He had a long scar on his cheek, and another on his forearm. They hadn't been there before.
"Oh, Lonny, you get hurt going out the window?"
"I bleed, woman, just like a honkey. Damn right I got hurt, and had to run like hell. You owe me, Brit. You owe me about a dozen fucks right in your own bed."
She looked at the door.
"Don't worry none, the pig is gone. I checked him out three days before I come in. Been watchin' your ass, Brit."
She shivered. He knew too much, he was too sly.
"And don't think about callin' him, about turning me in for breaking and entering or anything. 'Cause I got you right by your big tits. You try that and I'll swear you been molesting me, and contributing to my delinquency, and fucking me!"
"Lonny...."
"Yeah, pink tits, you don't know what to say, right?"
"Lonny, you wanted me to make love, and...."
"Shit. I was only twelve then. You try to tell that to a judge. I know what your ass can get for them felonies, Brit. Your white little cunt can get thrown in the slammer for ten to fifteen years!"
Brit shivered.
"Now get your ass over here and let's see what you look like again."
She stood there not able to move. He went to her, opened the robe and pushed it off her shoulders. It tumbled to the floor, revealing her nakedness.
"Yeah. Sweet muthuh! Now there's a good fuckin' ass and sweet eatin' tits." He walked around her, stopped behind her and jammed his hot prick between her asscheeks.
"Yeah, let's have ourselves a little old-fashioned fuck party, right now." He caught her breast and pulled it, guiding her into the bedroom.
"And you ain't even made the fucking bed yet? That pig a good dick? He really get your jollies humping? Damn, screwing the fuzz." He shook his head and peeled out of his clothes, his black body a surprise even after she had seen it often enough.
"Now we gonna have ourselves a little party. Lay down on the fucking bed on your tits. I wanta see you getting your little asshole reamed out for a change."
She lay there trying to cry. She felt his hands massaging her asscheeks, then his finger jabbed into her bunghole and she yelped.
"Yeah, white bitch, you gonna like it. Black meat in a white shit hole; should be a first for us, right?"
Then his finger was inside her ass and working around and around. In spite of herself, she felt her muscles relaxing until he gave a little cry. Her asshole was wide open and, before she could do anything about it, she felt his big black prick slide up and nose into the new cock slot.
It hurt like hell going in. There was no lubrication and he didn't spit any. It grated along the tissue until some fluid came from somewhere and smoothed the way.
"Stop! Lonny, that's far enough, you're splitting me inside. That's not like a cunt, you can't jam your dick all the way in."
It stopped him.
"No lie?"
"Yes, there's got to be room for shit in there, Lonny. No deeper, or I'll need an operation."
He stopped, then jabbed deeper. "Hell, I had to have an operation. Damned doctor took a dozen stitches in me after that window." He hesitated.
"Hell, don't want to mess up the hole first time."
This time she felt nothing. She realized it suddenly that she had not gone ape when she saw his naked body. She had not got hot and sexy watching his hard cock. She wasn't sex-mad for this kid this time!
All she felt was . the pain. It burned and throbbed. She had never really been fucked in the ass before, and she didn't like it. It felt so unnatural. And she was being raped this time. She didn't want him, so it was rape. But how could she prove it? How could she get him off her back?
She endured him, and quickly he shot his load and came off her. The pungent smell of raw shit filled her nostrils and, at the same time, she heard him yelp.
"Hey, I got a shitty prick."
"Go in the bathroom and wash it off, and get it clean."
"You gonna bug out of here on me?"
"No, I won't run out. I never walk around nude."
She watched him go in the bath, his half-hard cock still swinging from side to side. She should dress and run next door. No, then Sam would find out. Sam would kill the kid if he found out, she was sure. She waited. He came back, his black cock washed clean, a couple of minutes later.
"Now, Lonny, you've had your fun, you get out of here. I won't report you to the police. You raped me, but I guess I won't turn you in. Makes up for the window."
"Hey, I'm not done yet. I ain't even chewed none on your tits, or rammed my big toe up your cunt. Hell, bet my big toe's bigger than that pig's prick, right?"
He stood over her, his black hands on her white flesh. He made her stand up so he could look at them in the full-length mirror. He put his hands over her tits like a bra, then kissed them and turned her to face him and put his cock between her legs so it looked like they were coupled.
With each change in posture he waited until he could see them both in the mirror, then he laughed.
"Now, white bitch, that's real damn integration, right?"
Brit had been watching for a chance to break away. She was going to charge into the kitchen and get the big butcher knife. It was sharp, she knew, and it would work to drive him right out of the apartment.
Lonny held her as he stared down at the telephone. "No sweat, mama, just memorizing your telephone number, so I can call and check to be sure the pig has left for work. Wouldn't want to bust in here when you two was fucking up a storm."
He turned and she jolted past him, ran to the kitchen, her big tits flopping from side to side. She caught up the knife and turned. He stopped in front of the point.
"Look, mama, no trouble. We had our little fun, now I'll leave until the next time. Any time you want to yell, you go right ahead. I got you on three felonies, and I'm still under age so no judge gonna convict me of nothing. You remember that." He went back into the bedroom and pulled on his clothes. When he left he took her Canon 35mm camera from the dresser. She'd paid over three-hundred dollars for it.
"I figure, Brit honey, that I need this little old camera more than you do. You don't agree, then you call the cops and give them my description." He grinned. "Yeah, you do that if you want to spend fifteen years up shit creek in the jailhouse."
Brit sat down and cried. She ran to the front door and locked it, then cried again. It had been days since she'd had a good cry. When she finished she phoned the courts, telling them she wouldn't be in today.
Will answered. "Why the hell not, Brit?"
"Look, can't a girl even have a period any more? I'm about ready to start or I'm getting the flu. Either way, I wouldn't be good for business today."
"Thought you were on the pill."
"Girls on the pill still have periods, Will. If you stop having periods it's called the menopause, and I'm sure as hell not that old."
"Yeah, yeah. Okay, don't kill me. I'll get Pete to fill in. I've been thinking about that sponsorship. I haven't decided not to sponsor you, so there's still a chance. Talk to you about it tomorrow."
She thanked him and hung up. Right then she hoped she never had to talk to him again. She went for a shower, letting the water pour over her for half an hour. She still felt dirty. Not dirt dirty ... just something she couldn't explain. It wasn't because he was black. It was because the kid had fucked her when she hadn't wanted him to. That was it. She'd never let him do that again. She'd find a way-There had to be a way. Nothing was going to come between her and Sam. She had touched something good and honest. An honest man was hard to find these days.
But what could she do if Lonny kept coming over? Keeping the door locked would help. He could make noise and demand to be let in or he'd go to the cops.
She tried to think it through. Every way she turned he had her. Why had she gotten involved with him? Why had she locked him in that room? Oh, God, how was she going to get out of this one?
There had to be a way. Think, damn it, use some of those brains the high-school teachers said you had if you'd only use them. Think, damn it!
She walked to the bedroom, furiously made the bed and straightened up the room, all the time trying to come up with some plan. No matter what she did, he could cause a fuss, stir up a stink, and if she went to the police, he would rat on her about the fucking in the racquet ball center and she'd be done.
She could leave town, run away, even change her name. Sure, dumb-dumb, and what would that do to your chances with Sam?
She could move to a different part of town, so the kid could never find her. That sounded best. But there were ways a kid could trace her. That still had possibilities. The idea stuck with her as she cleaned up the rest of the apartment. Then she went to the couch and spread out for another nap. She was still so tired she could barely stand up. God, but that three times with Sam had taken a lot out of her. She had tried so damned hard so it would be so good for him. Maybe that was part of what loving a man really meant.
Then she dreamed and as she did she saw Sam who gave her a bloody hatchet and kept pointing at Lonny, who was stuck half in and half out of the apartment door.
"Kill him, Brit," Sam seemed to be saying. "Kill the little cuntsucker, then he'll never bother you."
She woke up in a sweat, and when she realized she had been dreaming, she sighed and went to the refrigerator for something cold to drink.
For the rest of the morning that bloody hatchet kept coming into her mind. She shook her head and pushed the thought away.
CHAPTER NINE
She gave in and went to work about five. Will had called twice. He couldn't get Pete and he'd had to hold down the desk all by himself. Will wasn't used to working with the front line troops. He was a thinker, a planner.
She got there and parked. She felt fine but she wasn't about to let Will know. She growled at him when she came in the door and slid behind the counter. As soon as she got there, the phone rang. She took and reservation and hung up.
"So get out of here to your important stuff."
"Hell, Brit, don't be so mad. I got this damned meeting with a couple of guys working on a San Francisco deal, and I think it's going for a six-court layout with chance for expansion."
"So go, get out of here."
"Hey, I'm still thinking of sponsoring you."
There was no one in the little office reception room just then. He leaned over and rubbed his hand up between her legs to her snatch. She backed away.
"Look but don't touch."
He scowled. "Times sure have changed."
"I've got some bargaining power now."
She didn't let him touch her again, and he shrugged and went out the door. "I'll be in tomorrow," he said.
She wasn't sorry to see him go.
The day, or what was left of it, went as usual. Taking reservations, selling towels, collecting for court use, and selling a racket or two and a pair of shorts and a T-shirt now and then.
About ten, Will came through the door.
He planted a big kiss on her cheek and grinned. "We just tied up San Francisco, and with their money. We operate and run it on a ten-year lease."
"Great, now you can afford to sponsor me."
He held up both hands, "Okay, you're on. The nationals in San Diego and the six regionals. Plane fare, hotel, taxis, and your damned hair sets. The works. It's deductible. And right after we close up, we're going out and celebrate."
He turned into his private office before she could say a word. Sponsored! Wow. Only a few girls were sponsored. But she should be. It would mean a little better treatment, maybe a higher seed, and for sure she would be comfortable and be at her best for the tournaments. The first regional was in Denver, in three weeks. She had planned on passing that one by, but now she would go ... in style! She couldn't wait to tell Sam. That stopped her for a minute. Had she said she'd sleep with Will if he sponsored her? She tried to remember that conversation in his office. She knew that was what he believed. Okay, maybe she would fuck him now and then. As long as she wasn't married or anything. ... Still it didn't seem quite as bright and glorious as it had a few moments earlier..
An hour later she closed up, checking carefully in both men's and women's locker rooms, picking up all the left and lost clothing and equipment and dropping it in the lost and found.
Finally she killed the lobby lights and knocked on Will's door.
"Come in," he said.
She opened the door and stepped inside. He had a drink in his hand and waved it at the couch. "Brit baby. Here's to our new deal, a sponsored pro, and a top-flight player. You want to celebrate here or go out and get stoned?"
"How about a couple of drinks here? I'm still not feeling the best."
"You got the red rag on?"
"What?"
"Period. Your period started yet?" He watched her and she decided she had to tell him.
"I guess not. I just feel shitty."
"Damn. Let's fuck."
"Will, I don't feel like it."
"Hell, I didn't ask you how you felt." He put the glass down and caught her by the waist, and a minute later she sat on the couch with Will beside her with both his hands on her tits.
"Come on, Brit baby. You're going to play ball in style, and me, I'm gonna get fucked in style, every time I fuckin' well want it." He pulled at her blouse until he found the buttons, then opened them and took her blouse off.
"Damn, look at them floppers. You always win the tits cup hands down at the tournaments. The men always vote for Miss Tits and you always win. Love them boobies." He fumbled with them, then bent down and sucked one into his mouth and began chewing.
"Ouch ... no ... Will. Please. I don't want to tonight."
"Hell, I want to, right now." He unzipped his pants and reeled out his big cock. She remembered how long it was and that he was a good worker with it. But there was no thrill, no wonder, no hot blood. She pulled her blouse back on and got it buttoned before he got his pants down. By that time she was at the door.
"You're drunk, Will, stoned. You stay right here and sleep it off and we'll talk about it in the morning."
He made a grab for her but missed, tripped over the pants around his ankles and fell flat on the rug on his floor. Brit laughed and remembered the last time he had been this potted. He'd slept on one of the court floors all night and had a sore back for a week. She stepped quietly out the door and closed it softly.
She knew Will would be mad the next morning. To try to make up for it she wore the low-cut blouse that showed some cleavage and her shortest skirt. She got to work ten minutes early and saw his car gone from the lot. Thank goodness for that. But ten minutes after twelve, he came boiling in.
"Brit, I want to see you in the office right now." He locked the outside door behind him and marched inside his room.
"What the hell went on last night?" he asked.
"You got stoned and passed out."
"Before or after?"
She turned away. "Will, you know that's an embarrassing question. It means I wasn't good enough for you to even remember it."
"Uh, oh ... Okay. I told you the center's going to sponsor you, right? We'll get the kind of Billy Jean King tennis outfit you like, and buy you five or six. All different if you want them." He seemed to fade. "Wow, I had quite a night. I'm going to need a pot of coffee, but don't make it yet." He walked toward her and put his arms around her, pulling her against his chest.
"Look, if I got out of line last night, I'm sorry. You're a lot of woman and half the time I'm walking around here, I get a hard-on just watching you." His hand slid down the front of her blouse and closed around a tit. "Damn, I could blow my wad right now just standing here playing with your tits, you know that?"
She didn't answer, just stood there and waited. She sensed a little glow from his hand as her breast began to respond.
"Hey, how about one more celebration, a quick one, right now?" He bent and kissed her, his mouth open, and then he pushed his tongue into her mouth.
Brit suddenly decided this wasn't the time to fight it. Hell, she was free, single and twenty-one.
What the shit?
She let him lay her down and pull down her pantyhose, then without taking off his pants, he drove his dick into her. She tried to get a little bit excited, but nothing was turned on. Even when his long cock hit bottom, she simply grunted. By the time he was thinking about himself she began to respond a little, but by then it was too late. He'd blown his cork and his dick was coming out of her. He handed her a box of tissues, kissing her bare tits again, kissing her mouth, telling her what a good fuck she was.
She went to the women's room and, five minutes later, was back at the desk. She didn't see Will the rest of the day. She clfesed up as usual that night and, when she got home, Will was seated on the steps waiting for her.
"Hi."
"Hello, Will."
"Can I come in? I've got something for you."
She frowned, then lifted her brows and nodded. She hadn't the slightest idea what it might be unless Will Jamison was suddenly getting conscious stricken, or his wife had left him again. She unlocked the door and went inside. After she turned on the lights and threw her sweater on the couch, she stood in the middle of the living room.
"Will, you have something on your mind?"
"Oh, not exactly."
"You want to borrow some money?"
He laughed and shook his head.
"You want to get laid again?"
"Well, sure, you're always good, but I was thinking about something else."
"Like you want me to fuck a friend of yours."
He shook his head. "Brit, why do you have to be so damned crude? I mean, you and me could have it good. Some soft music, a nice hotel room once in a while, a good dinner out, take in a play or something."
"You mean your wife skipped out again?"
Will closed his eyes and sighed. "Yes, she's gone, and I like women around me. I'm good with them."
"And you want me to move into your fancy apartment house?"
"You don't understand. Can't you kind of soft pedal the sex end of things? There's a hell of a lot more to life than just humping into a hole."
"That's not what you said last night."
"All right, I was stoned blind. This is now."
"Will, I'll let you know after the tournaments."
"Why not during the tournaments? We'll be together, because I'm going along."
"The same hotel room?"
"Of course."
"I'm going there to play racquet ball, not to fuck."
"You'll play ball. When you're through playing, after you win the tournament, then we'll ball good."
"Anything else?"
"You're kicking me out?"
"Right. I've got a two-hour workout tomorrow with Willow, you remember her, U.S. single women's champ? I've got to beat her tail off, which means I need nine hours of sleep."
He held up his hands. "Okay, okay. I understand. I'll go quietly. Just think about what I said. It could be all nice and soft music and expensive clothes, and maybe even that nice apartment." He bent and kissed the cleavage showing on her chest and let himself out the door.
She stood there and laughed softly. "I'll be damned," she said. "The great Will Jamison was almost crawling." She laughed again and got ready for bed. All she would have to do was put on her lady-lady manners and play a little hard to get, and she could wind up living in his swanky twentieth-floor apartment.
She went to bed laughing.
The next morning she was up at nine, and fifteen minutes later Sam was pounding on her door.
"What's for breakfast?" he asked.
She still had her robe on, her hair was a mess and her makeup was gone. She vanished for ten minutes while he listened to the early news and came back combed, washed, made up and dressed.
She made him a cheese omelet with green onions and sunflower seeds. Sam didn't like it.
"Next time leave out the onions and bird seeds and it'll be fine," he said. Then he grinned and kissed her. "Whoever just said that's got a lot of gall."
He glanced up at her, sipping coffee. "Hear anything unusual last night?"
"No. I turned in about midnight. Why?"
"Oh, nothing important. Had a call from this area about a kid peeking into windows. Some black kid. He took off when a prowl car came by."
She decided not to tell him about her stolen camera. She wondered if it had happened while Lonny was snooping around. Waiting for her to get home probably.
"If you get any problems like that, you call in."
She nodded. "Sure I will, but I haven't noticed anything."
After the breakfast was over and they cleaned up the dishes together, he asked her if it wasn't about time she had another day off. She told him about her partial day, and he growled. He had to work all day.
"But I've got today off. Can we do something this morning?"
"Hey, great! What can we do?"
He stood up and circled the table. "We can do anything in L.A. or Orange County that you've always wanted to do, that you couldn't find time to do. As long as we can do it in three and a half hours."
"Laguna Beach! Let's drive down and look at the art festival, and prowl around all the little shops and stores, and go wading on the beach."
So they went. It was the most perfect morning she could ever remember. The way he held her hand. Sam had studied art for two years and knew a lot about it. They shopped and at last bought a painting of a small dark-eyed girl crying on a sidewalk.
"For you," he said. "Because that's the way you looked that first day I saw you, scared, nervous, and ready to cry."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Now let's go wading."
They got their feet and his pants legs wet and sat on some rocks and let everything dry out. Then it was time to fly back, and she got to work five minutes late and feeling marvelous.
That afternoon she had her workout with Betty Willow, and at once spotted some flaws in the other woman's play, but she didn't tell her. Betty was enough of a champion to figure out the problems herself. Neither did Betty make any suggestions to Brit about her game.
"You going to Denver?" Betty asked in the locker room. Brit said she was. "We'll have some good matches."
Will didn't come in all day. He phoned once to tell her to open the safe and make a run to the bank, he had the deposit all made out. He said he'd be gone for a couple of days.
Sam came about six and watched the play for a while, then he faded out and said he'd see her in the morning for breakfast. Brit grinned. She was going to get to bed early that night, so breakfast could come that much faster.
CHAPTER TEN
Brit hummed a tune popular ten years earlier as she walked up the steps to her second-floor apartment. She put her key in the lock and pushed the door open, snapped on the lights in the living room, and threw her sweater on the couch. She didn't know why she always took the thing, it was never that cool on summer nights. She headed for the bathroom but turned into her bedroom instead and slid out of her blouse and shorts. She walked to the bathroom topless, wearing just her panties. That was when she heard a giggle. She stopped and frowned. The sound came again and she pushed the bathroom door open, standing well back.
"Surprise," Lonny said softly and jumped out in front of her, naked. Behind him two other black boys stood up, both also nude and each with a hard cock in his hand.
Anger was her first reaction.
"Lonny, you get the hell out of here, and take your two nigger friends with you!" She swung her fist at the closest one, missed, and wound up being caught by the boy from behind and lifted off her feet.
"Put me down! I'm charging you with rape, all three of you. If you don't get out of here right now, I will." She glared at the youngest of the three. "Kid, you know what jail's like? You're damned well gonna find out, 'cause I'm gonna run your motherfucking ass into jail so fast you won't have time to miss a stroke. Now get the hell out of here!"
"Gee, Lon, she does talk dirty, and look at them tits!"
"Yeah, you ain't seen but half of it. She's got a cunt that never stops fucking. She's got a little motor down there that just keeps running and running. And I damn well know how to turn it on."
Lonny took two steps toward her, caught her arms and bent to kiss her breasts.
Brit's anger diluted into fear and then to regret that she hadn't moved like she thought about. She would treat them just like she had Lonny the other time, cold and frigid, and get rid of them fast.
Only her breast began to throb where his lips touched. No! Now both tits were pounding and heating up. She tried to beat it down like the last time, but she couldn't. The powerful surge of hot blood penetrated through her entire body, and she was aware that her breath had picked up. There was still time! She kicked backward with her foot, remembering she still had her shoes on, and the leather heel slammed into a shinbone.
"Yeowwwwww!" a black kid howled. He relaxed his arms and she bolted straight ahead, running over Lonny, aiming for the kitchen and a knife, only she didn't make it. The smaller boy's body blocked her waist-high and she went down with him in a tangle of arms and legs, just inside . the living room.
He moved quickly, lying on top of her, jabbing his prick between her legs and spreading both her arms to the side.
"Fuck, Lonny, don't you know how to deal with a pussy woman? Got to put them down, show 'em who's boss, who's got the fucking balls in the family."
The other two were there then. Lonny stripped off her panties and her shoes and her bare ass hit the shag of the rug. She'd never been fucked on this rug before and she wasn't going to be now! Furiously she tried to tear the hands away from her, then she tried to buck the boy off her hips, but she couldn't. The damn hot blood kept pounding. Black hands fondled her tits, rubbed them. A black mouth closed over one breast, kissed it gently, then sucked it inside and began chewing on the super-tender flesh.
Hands played around her crotch. The boys were talking, laughing, making jokes, but she didn't hear any of it. The swelling, surging roar of hot blood in her ears drowned out everything else. Her tits were on fire and her whole body smoldering. Her crotch was juicing and humping gently upward, ready-yeah, ready for cock, ready to fuck!
"You can let go of me now, Lonny. I want to fuck."
The other boys jeered at the suggestion, but Lonny quieted them.
"If the lady says she's hot, she is. Let a man show you how to put the black cock to a real white bitch."
Roughly he went between her legs, lifted her knees, then her ankles until they were straight in the air. He lifted them further until he put her legs on his shoulders. Then he slid his big black dick into her juicy, panting, wanting-it cunt and began to rock forward. He was almost standing on his knees, almost straight up, and his prick went into her fuck tube at such a wild angle that it caused a great deal of friction.
He pumped it half a dozen times, then he groaned and shot his wad into her tube. He laughed and jerked his cum-slick cock out of her.
Brit knew what he was going to do as he raised her legs. She'd never been screwed with her legs that high before. It was absolutely crazy. The angle was all wrong, but then his whole hot cock was inside her pussy and he drove it in and out. It was fantastic. She'd never felt anything like it before. Before she knew it she shook a dozen times in a climax that Lonny didn't even notice. Then he pulled his cock out of her and the other boys were pawing her.
John, the youngest of the three black boys, stared at the way Lonny's prick went into the woman. He talked big, but the truth was he'd never fucked anybody. Sure, he'd jacked off a lot, and he had shot his wad between a little black bitch's legs, but she wouldn't let him stick his prick inside her.
He gawked at the way Lonny jammed his cock right into theB woman's cunt. Damn, that would be something, to really fuck! He watched her legs go up and knew he didn't want to try that. But down on the floor, yeah, he'd like to try it. He watched the woman carefully. Wow, what tits. Even lying on her back they were ten times as big as those of Marci. Marci was his steady girl and she let him play with her boobies once a week. She said that was enough for any stud. She let him play with her tits and she jacked him off. It had seemed like a good trade until now. Damn, next week he was gonna stab his black cock into that little black kid's cunt, damned if he wasn't. She probably wanted it, just waiting for him to ask, or to do it without asking, to take!
He watched the black cock vanishing inside the white woman's cunt and he came, his hand pumping, his hot sticky cum splashing all over the floor. He didn't even look to see where it landed. His eyes were watching the little pucker of flesh around her pussy hole that vanished then billowed out on every stroke. He wondered if Marci's cunt would do that? He fingered her cunt one time, but then he decided her tits were more fun. Next time he was gonna go for the old cock hole. Damn, he'd probably make it.
Brit pushed up on her elbows and looked at the three kids. Lonny was still panting. The smallest one had just finished jacking off and the third kid was staring at his prick and playing with his own balls.
"Who's next? You guys come to get fucked or sit around playing with your own cocks?" She grabbed the kid who was next to biggest and pulled him over on her. "You want it with me on top? You ever had a top-fuck?"
"Shit no!"
"You're gonna have one now." She rolled over on top of the kid and spread his legs. She went between them, then spread her own legs and pulled his back tight. "Nose up in there and find pussy," she said. He did, but had trouble getting his cock in.
"Push, damn it!" she yelled at him. He jammed harder and at last got his black cockhead inside. She settled down on top of him with her whole weight and felt his long cock thread its way as deep inside her fuck tube as it would reach.
Brit looked at the second boy, the youngest one who had body-blocked her down. "What's your name, sweetheart?"
"John."
"Come here, Johnny lover, and let me look at your cock."
He slid over on the rug. As he had watched his friend being mounted by the woman, his dick got hard again and now his black cock throbbed like a clanging pipe.
She kissed the tip of his cock. Since she was on top of one kid, she was in a great position to service John.
"You ever been sucked off, John?"
He shook his head.
"You ever had your big old cock inside some girl's mouth?"
Again he shook his head. "Would you like to?"
"Yeah!"
"Well, push it up here a little."
He pushed up and she swung a little to the side of the other boy and nailed his pinkish-black cock with her mouth. The small boy groaned as her mouth went over his slick cockhead, his eyes showing so much white she thought he was going to faint.
"Damn, damn, damn," John said softly.
Brit looked for Lonny. She came off John and motioned to him. "Come here, Lonny. You fucker, what can I do for you? Got to do a three way. You ever have your pituitary gland massaged?" She shook her head. "No, damn it, it ain't the pituitary gland, it's another one lower down. I can make you cum in twenty seconds, all I got to do is put my finger up your asshole."
"No lie? There's some little trigger up there?"
She nodded, He grinned and pushed his ass up toward her so she could reach him and then lifted one leg.
"Just don't piss on me," she said, then went back down on John's cock and began humping up and down on the other kid's prick in her cunt.
As she bobbed and humped, she felt a wild thrill. She was going to service three kids at once. Three fuckers at a time, and all three of them with cocks so black they looked like coal. She pushed her finger out and got it into Lonny's black shit hole, then began worming it in deeper. She had to loosen up his muscles in there and it took quite a while. Lonny lay there moaning and groaning like he was ready to cum already.
She drove in deeper then crooked her finger in the direction she thought it should be. The prostate, that was it. She found the lump she thought was it and twanged it like a guitar string. Lonny howled like a wounded tiger.
"Oh, goddamn! What did you touch in there?"
"Like it?" She came off John, then went back on his pulsing prick.
"Wild, strange. Nothing like I ever felt before."
Brit twanged the gland again, then four more times, and Lonny let out a low moaning scream she hoped didn't penetrate the walls. She saw his hips jerking and knew he had climaxed.
It was about the same time that the boy under her began to snort and claw at her, his hips humped up and he came in a surging roar.
"Oh, fuck, fuck. That's fine, fucking fine!"
She never did know when John came, but suddenly his prick was soft and she realized he'd climaxed and she'd swallowed his jism without knowing it. Old automatic mouth.
One by one the black bodies peeled away from her and sat panting on the rug. She looked at them, wondering what turned her on so suddenly. They all seemed fucked out. She got up and went into the bathroom, but left the door open.
"How does a girl piss?" John asked. He had followed her.
"Just sit down, squat, and let fly, same way a guy pisses, just relax."
"Oh." He went back into the living room.
When she came out all the boys had on their clothes and shoes.
"We got one more trick to show you," Lonny said. "Lay down on the rug and close your eyes."
She did. She waited. Suddenly three streams of hot yellow blackboy piss hit her body, her tits, her twat and her face. She screamed and turned to cover her face. As the warm piss hit her, she realized she was climaxing. A long, low yell came from her as her whole body shook with the most violent climax of her entire life. When the piss stopped hitting her, the climax trailed off. She blinked and looked up at them.
"Hell, you climaxed, you bitch. You enjoyed it!" Lonny snarled. He looked around. "You got any more cameras here?"
"Get out, Lonny."
He stared at her. "I'll be back."
She stared at him, thinking about the knife again. Right then she could have used it on him. He saw the threat, backed away, and left without taking anything. As soon as all three were out of the door, she ran to it and locked it. She had no idea how they got in, picked the lock, something. He wouldn't get back in.
She left the door and slumped back to the floor. Piss all over her. It smelled foul, like ammonia. She had to take a shower but she simply sat there, too drained to move.
"Oh, God," she said out loud. What if Sam came and found her this way? No, he said he'd see her in the morning. She stared at the wet places on the rug. She had to move now, Lonny would hound her until Sam found out. Sam would kill the black kid. She knew he would.
She tried to stand, but never made it. Rest some more, just a little more.
The knock came a moment later.
"Who is it?"
"Lonny. Open up."
She went to the door and opened it. He came in and she saw the bruises on his face.
"Two big guys jumped us in the alley, took our billfolds and watches."
"And beat you up."
"Yeah. Other two guys got away. Can you drive me home?"
"Sure, let me get on my robe."
She got it, wrapped it around her, and slipped into some soft shoes. On the way back, she went into the kitchen. She wasn't sure what she was doing. There was no conscious ordering of her thoughts, no plan, no premeditation.
When she went back into the living room she saw Lonny where he had sagged against the front door. He was bad hurt. One arm looked broken. She held his arm and helped him down the steps and into her little Honda. She drove partway to his place, then stopped at the curb. It was in a warehouse area that had no lights and no watchmen.
She took the object from her bathrobe pocket and leaned across the car in the half light of the moon.
"There's no other way, Lonny. You'll never let me go, so I'm going to cut your apron strings."
The eight-inch blade of the butcher knife rammed hard into his stomach. He twisted with pain, helping the blade do its job as Brit held onto it. Then he gurgled softly and his head slumped toward the window.
Brit shook so much she could hardly get the seat belt unfastened. She slid it up, opened the door, and rolled Lonny out of the car. Nobody would find him until morning. By then he would be dead.
She trembled and watched every car that moved on the way back to her apartment. There was no way anyone could link her with the young boy. She had even remembered to pull the knife out of him and take it with her. She didn't think any of his blood would be on the car. She'd be up at dawn and wash the car inside and out. The knife she would scrub in ammonia, wash it a hundred times, then put it back on the rack where it always was.
Her mind was racing. She hurried back up the steps and into the apartment. She was quiet. She hadn't seen anyone. If the other two boys thought about it, they would remember they had run off when two thugs jumped them, that they had left their buddy and ran. They wouldn't think about what happened before that, to connect her. Anyway, they had no proof they had been there.
God, what had she done? She had killed the young boy because he wouldn't let her go. He would have ruined everything she had worked for. He would have killed the chance she had with Sam. He would have blasted any chance at all with Will now that he was sponsoring her.
There was no other way. The kid had to go. He should have seen it coming. He got just what he deserved.
For three hours she went on making excuses for herself. She worked most of that time trying to get the shag rug clean in the living room. She worked on it with rug shampoo, and hoped it would be dry by morning. She wanted to vacuum it, but that would make too much noise.
When she had it the best she could get it, and the knife through its oven heatings and washings, she had a long shower.
It was a little after four when she finally got to bed, and her alarm was set for six-thirty. It should be almost light by then.
Even though she was so tired she could collapse, she couldn't get to sleep. Had she actually planned to stab the boy? Why else did she take the knife? And hide it? She must have planned it.
She kept thinking about what Sam had said that night he came from the husband-wife killing. He said things like the husband went out of his mind, and temporary insanity. He said the fact the guy didn't try to run away or hide the killing helped prove that. She had run away, though, and she had covered it up. So what did that make her? A murderer? She was still wide awake when her alarm went off.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Brit dressed automatically, had a cup of coffee, then went downstairs to the authorized wash area in the complex and washed down her little car. There were no blood splatters inside, and she found only one on the bottom of the door outside. Quickly she finished the washing, dried off the finish with a cloth and wiped out the inside. There was no way she could be connected with the boy.
Inside her apartment she listened to the news. International. Some agreement with Panama to renegotiate the perpetual treaty for U.S. control of the Canal Zone. Then some national news and finally the local. There was a report of a shooting in the eastern part of town and a rape in Venice, but nothing around there.
She tried to drink her coffee and spilled half of it on the clean tablecloth. She sopped it up and threw the cloth in the sink to wash later.
A new cup of coffee, and she switched to another all-news station. Still nothing about the boy. Maybe he hadn't died. Maybe he got home, or somebody passed by and got him to a hospital.
She put her head in both hands. Then she'd have not only the morals charges but the attempted murder rap as well. No, he must be dead. The knife went in so deep, she had been surprised, then he moved and she held on and it must have cut....
She shook her head and went to the cupboard and brought out a bottle of whiskey. She didn't even look to see what it was. She poured two inches in a water glass and began sipping it.
Sam! He'd be there any minute. She took a big gulp of the amber fluid and poured the rest down the sink, then put the bottle away. That was just what she needed, to have Sam find her drinking. She should still be in bed. She had about made up her mind to get some sleep when the bell rang.
It had to be Sam. But this was the earliest he had ever been there. She went slowly to the door, stifling a yawn.
Sam leaned against the door, his snake shirt partly covered with a plaid shirt. The patched jeans were the same ones. He must wear them a week at a time.
"You're early for breakfast."
"Happened to be in the area and saw your light on.
She tried to grin. 'That's a bunch of crock."
"Yeah. Had a case over on the other side of town. Got home about three and couldn't sleep, so I drove around and wound up here."
"Coffee's ready, how about a couple of eggs and bacon?"
"Sounds fine."
"We're a good pair today. I didn't get much sleep either. I kept hearing something last night, and I remembered about that prowler you mentioned. I guess it was some old Tom cat out on the prowl. By the time it got light, I was ready for some coffee. Now I wish I was back in bed."
"Yeah, you don't look too sharp." He stared at her a moment, then went back to his coffee.
"Was there a burglar around here last night? You hear any reports?"
"Guess not, quiet as the grave."
She jolted when he said it, but he hadn't been watching her. She had to grab hold of herself. Nothing could be suspicious. Everything that happened had to be normal, regular, predictable.
"You been on duty all night and you get today off, right?"
He laughed. "You don't know the department. That's what they call 'casual overtime.' It's expected and non-remunerative. They don't pay us for it either."
"Sounds like my job." She concentrated on frying their eggs, aware that she had to concentrate to get anything done. Things that were automatic must now be thought through carefully. At last she put the breakfast in front of him.
"Hey, now that looks better, I mean I'm feeling better just looking at it. This's the kind of service a man should have." He looked up. "Hey, where's yours?"
"I'm not up to breakfast. Maybe later."
She watched him eat. Make conversation, stupid, she told herself, but she couldn't think of anything to say. He finished the food, said he'd check in on his squawk box and he right back up.
He came back a few minutes later. "Sorry, but I've got to move. Turns out there was a case in this area last night after all. Some black kid got in a fight and took a blade in his gut. He never quite made it to the hospital. Evidently he staggered through a vacant lot to the boulevard down there and somebody saw him fall on the curb."
Brit had tightened up when she heard it. She couldn't stop a look of horror on her face. "Oh, no, it sounds awful. He got stabbed and he died?"
"Seems like it. We'll try to follow his trail. Might be able to track him back from the blood. Gut wounds usually bleed a lot."
Brit felt her stomach starting to turn over. She didn't know if she could hold it or not.
"Well, got to go." He reached in and kissed her cheek. "You better have a nap. See you later." He turned and trotted down the steps to his car. She waved as he got in and backed out of the slot beside her Honda.
Then she ran for the bathroom. She barely made the sink before she vomited. Her stomach retched again and again until tears streamed out of her eyes. At last she stopped, then washed down the bowl and her face. She rinsed out her mouth with three glasses of water then fell on her bed, totally drained, so exhausted and frightened that she would say black was white-if they would just let her get some sleep.
She slept almost at once. By some hidden mental alarm, she woke promptly at 11:15. Still plenty of time to get to work. She must. Everything normal and natural.
It was a strain, a struggle, but at twelve she walked in the door of the Hemphill Racquet Ball and Handball Center, and took over the counter.
Make it through each minute, they would lead to hours and soon the first day would be over.
About four o'clock a black boy came in and Brit felt her head suddenly go light. She held onto the counter.
"You gotta pay to play here?"
She nodded, not sure if she could speak.
"How much?"
"Two dollars an hour."
He rolled his eyes and walked out the door. She moved to the high bench and sat down quickly before her knees folded up.
Twice that afternoon police cars went by the courts, their sirens screaming. Both times Brit had to hold onto the'counter, not sure if she was going to faint or not. Somehow she managed to keep her feet.
It was the longest day Brit could ever remember. She had been up too long with only three hours of sleep. She was closed up and gone at five until eleven, and at home she locked the door, put a chair against the knob, and dropped into bed. It took her more than half a second to get to sleep.
She dreamed. It was a chase, only the chase began with a black man who became younger every step until he was Lonny's age. He looked like Lonny and his hard prick flopped from side to side as he ran, begging her to stop so they could fuck and play.
She came awake screaming. Lonny had just thrust a knife into her breast and cut it off. She wiped away the tears, sitting up in bed, looking at the soft light of the moon coming in through the window. She tried to relax, to get to sleep again, but she couldn't. The lighted face of the digital clock told her it was exactly 4:31. She waited until it said 4:36, then sat up and stared into the darkness.
Why? It had been all so good, it had been going so' well. Just when it looked like she might get somewhere with her boss, and then Sam came along-dear, sweet Sam. But Lonny kept pushing, pushing.
He was a lot like the first kid she laid. The first time she had dipped into the flowering of boyhood and found it so tasty.
Memories flooded back. She hadn't thought about it for a long time. He had been twelve, and lived down the block. She had been nineteen at the time. He was a cute kid, not too big, but growing. He used to climb the tree in the house next to theirs. This one summer afternoon she was sunbathing in their yard when Hal climbed up and waved. She waved back.
"Whatcha doing?"
"Soaking up some sun, silly."
"Oh, I thought maybe you were messing around."
"Silly, it takes two people to mess around."
"You ever make love?" Hal asked.
She laughed. "Now, Hal, that's a question you just don't ask a big girl. If she has, she isn't going to tell you. And if she hasn't she certainly doesn't want you to know."
"Why?"
"Well, it's ... How old are you?"
"Twelve."
"You know about girls?"
"Some."
She felt a sudden stirring in her body. Her breasts warmed and it wasn't from the sun. "Your folks home?"
"Mom went next door for a few minutes. That means two hours."
She thought quickly. Her parents were gone for the afternoon. She grinned.
"Swing on over the fence and drop down. I've got something to tell you."
He did. When he sat beside her on the grass, she looked at his young body and her hotness surged. Such fine young arms. He'd taken his T-shirt off and she saw the sturdy young torso, a hairless chest and belly dropping from view into his pants.
"What do you know about girls, Hal?"
"Well, they're different from boys. They have breasts, you know up on top, and down below they're different too. They've got something else, not a penis."
"That's all?"
"That's the most important."
"Come here."
She urged him over so she could put her hands around his shoulders and press her head next to his. His skin felt so tender, so soft.
"Hey, if I do something for you, will you do something for me?"
"Sure."
"You have to promise never to tell anybody. Okay?"
"Okay."
"Have you ever seen a girl's breasts, her tits?" He laughed. "You kidding? 'Course not."
"Would you like to? I'm a girl, I have tits." He grinned. "Yeah, but girls never let you see. My sister won't. She always covers them up. All girls do."
"Hal, I'll uncover for you."
"Yeah?" his eagerness slowly drained away. "But what do I have to do?"
"Nothing if you don't want to see me."
"I do."
"All you have to do is open your pants, let me see you, an even trade."
He thought about it a moment. "Okay, you first."
She led him into the house, up to her bedroom, and closed and locked the door.
"Now, nobody'll see us or surprise us, right?"
As she said it she slid out of the little blouse she wore over her bikini. It was tiny and Hal whistled.
"Sit beside me, Hal."
He did. She untied the halter straps and slowly let the cloth fall off one breast.
Hal stared at her tit, his mouth open and his breath coming in gasps.
She dropped the other half and he closed his eyes and shook his head.
"Wow ... wow!" was all he said.
She let him stare at them and reached down and pulled open the zipper at his fly. He hardly noticed. She wormed her hand through the opening and reached inside. It was so tight.
"Hal, why don't you just slip out of your pants and shorts?"
"Okay."
He did and she felt her breasts begin to burn as she looked at his little cock, his almost hairless balls. It had been almost six months since she'd seen a cock. It was so small and delicate. She reached out and touched his prick which had bounced up to its full hard size, about four inches long.
She took his hand and placed it on her tit. Almost at once he spurted cum all over. She laughed and he laughed, then he touched her breasts again.
"You can feel them up, Hal. I'd like that. Play with them."
He did. As he did she played with him, caught his balls and felt them, played with his soft prick until it was hard again.
"Hey, you want to see my cunt?"
"Really? You'd show it to me?"
"Sure, part of our deal.
She stood and took off the bikini bottom, then lay down on the bed, her legs spread wide. "Go ahead and look, touch it."
He went between her legs and stared. At last his finger went out and touched the muff of hair.
"Go ahead, don't be afraid, you can't hurt it."
She tensed as his finger touched her pussy lips, then the whole thing exploded and she was humping her hips.
"Darling, push your finger inside me, can you? Please, right now. I need it!"
He missed then found her cunt hole and his finger went inside.
"Oh, yes, that feels so good, like it does when you cum. Hey, you want to cum inside me? Climb on top of me and poke your prick in where your finger is."
"Wow." He tried. She helped. At last his little prick nosed into her cunt and jammed in his full four inches.
"Now, Hal, you're fucking a girl. Crazy!"
They lay there as she pounded and shivered and shook in her climax. Then she urged him to start humping.
"The real fucking is humping back and forth, like you do when you jack off in the bathtub."
He frowned at her, but began the motion. She felt him yelp after a dozen strokes and felt the hot jism shooting into her soft and ready vagina.
"Yeah, Hal, you had a cum. Now you've really fucked a girl, all the way."
He eased his dick out and she cleaned him and herself up while he watched, then they lay on the bed again, playing with each other. She kissed his prick and he came again, almost shooting it in her face. He kissed her tits and chewed on one and Brit almost went out of her mind with another surging climax.
They messed around for another half hour, then she kissed his still-hard cock again and told him to put on his pants. He did. She explained that they wouldn't let anyone know what they did. She promised if he didn't say a word, they might do it again sometime. He agreed and they did. Every Saturday for almost a year they fucked around, until Hal's mother got suspicious and they decided to stop, and Brit moved to Los Angeles.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Brit woke up the next morning feeling better. She was safe so far. Every hour would make it harder for them to tie her to the boy in any way, let alone murder. She shivered at the word and got back to her typing. She worked hard, a good two hours, and then gave herself a five-minute test. She made only three errors and came out with 67 words per minute. She didn't believe it. Carefully she checked her figures. Yes, 67 words a minute. That was fast enough to get any kind of typing job. She ran to the corner for a newspaper and looked through the ads. She had found two that looked good when she checked the clock. She had only ten minutes to get to work.
She marked the ads and took them along. She could call from work.
When she arrived at the courts she saw a police car there. She had thoughts of driving on by, just leave, not go back to the apartment or check out or anything, just drive until she could trade the car and then keep going. But she didn't. She turned in and parked directly beside the police cruiser. At least the red light on top wasn't flashing.
Inside she saw the officer in uniform, and two other men not in uniform that she was sure were cops. Sam stood to one side, wearing a blue T-shirt with a huge curling wave on it. He had changed pants and this pair of jeans had two patches on them. Today he had on leather thongs."
"Brit, I want to explain something," Sam said, getting to her first.
A larger man shouldered Sam out of the way. "Ah, so this is Brit. Well, you certainly are an attractive girl. I see why Lt. Simon had wanted to handle it. But now we seem to be getting somewhere. We've tied down the name of the dead youth, and have established by Mr. Jamison and some of the players that he was seen here quite often two months ago. We want to show you a picture of him and see if you recognize him."
Sam broke in. "Brit, I'd like to introduce Captain Peters, my boss."
Captain Peters again pushed Sam aside and pulled Brit by one arm to a display laid out on the counter. On it were six photographs, all covered except one. The picture was of Lonny, taken before he had the scar on his face. It had been enlarged and was quite grainy, but it was Lonny. She caught her breath quickly then nodded.
"Yes, I've seen that boy around here. He played once or twice, I think. Most of the time he couldn't afford to, so he came and watched."
"Thank you, Brit. Now look at the next." It was Peters. He uncovered the second picture, showing the bashed-in rear window of the courts and the blood on the window and wall.
"That's our window, the one somebody broke into a few weeks ago."
"Quite right, my dear. Now one more." He drew aside a covering showing a picture of a body on a morgue slab, a wooden slat positioned in the body where the knife thrust had gone.
"Is this familiar?"
"My God!" Brit said and screamed. She turned away, but Captain Peters grabbed her.
"Is that the same boy? Is that Lonny Woods?"
"I-I don't know."
"Then look closer at this one."
The picture next showed the boy in death, a full face close-up with his staring eyes open.
Brit screamed again. "Yes, yes, that's him." She sagged and this time Sam caught her.
"Some on, Captain, take it easy. Why push so hard on her just to identify the kid? We know who he is."
"Stow it, Lieutenant, this is my party. Get her back up here."
The other two men moved Brit back to the counter facing the pictures.
"Now, Brit, tell me if you've ever been to, or seen this street."
The picture now showed the street where she had dumped out Lonny. And in the center of the frame sat her little Honda.
Brit turned her unbelieving eyes on Sam. She was beyond tears.
"What are they trying to do, Sam, shock me out of my mind? Are they trying to make me go crazy?"
"Have you seen that spot before, Brit?" Peters asked.
She nodded. "It's north somewhere, near the tracks, oh, a mile or so from here."
"Quite right, Brit. You're doing well. Now just one more question. Check this next picture."
The covering was ripped off suddenly and Brit stared at the lifeless body of Lonny Woods, sitting in the passenger's side of her Honda, the passenger side door open and the seat belt off, as if he were about to be pushed out into the street.
Brit screamed. A dozen times her shrieking voice echoed through the courts. The men never winced. They had heard lots of women scream.
Peters slapped her gently and she looked at him.
"Why, Brit? Why did you kill Lonny Wood?"
"Because he was blackmailing me. He was bugging me, and raping me and attacking me. Because he was scum who didn't deserve to live."
"You stabbed him with your butcher knife?"
"Yes, he deserved it, he...." Suddenly she realized what she had said. She turned to Sam. "Don't you see, Sam, he was spoiling it between us. He would ruin it. It was so wonderful, to find an honest man, somebody I liked to be around."
Sam turned away from her.
"Sam, don't desert me now!"
Peters took her arm and snapped handcuffs on her wrists behind her back.
"Brit, do you know another boy, one named Hal Warrant?"
"Oh, yes. He used to live down the street from me in Sacramento."
"Only he doesn't live there any more, Brit. You killed him when you ran over him with your car three years ago."
"He was going to tell. There was nothing else I could do. He was going to tell what we did on Saturdays, and I knew that I would get into trouble. ... It was his fault, not mine."
She turned, searching for Sam. "Tell them, Sam. Tell them I wouldn't hurt anyone. Sam, tell them how loving I am. Please, Sam, after all we've meant to each other, don't let me down."
Sam turned and left the building. He got into his cruiser and drove away.
"Don't let him go. Our love will see it through. I didn't mean to hurt anyone. I was temporarily insane."
"Miss, don't count on any help from Sam."
"What do you mean? He's honest and true. He'll stand up for me, stand by me. He'll prove I didn't do it."
"Brit, Sam Simon is an eleven-year career police officer. One of the very finest in all of Los Angeles. He'll be testifying against you."
"But he loves me."
"Brit, I want you to understand your position. First, Sam is happily married, has a beautiful wife and three daughters. He's one of the best uncover, out-of-cover, straight investigating cops we've got. He picked up Lonny Woods less than two hours after the reported break-in at your place here. Found him leaning against a wall ready to bleed to death."
"Why, that's impossible...."
"Believe me, lady. While Lonny was getting patched up, he told Sam all about you. We got fingerprints, we found out how you operate, and then we sent Lonny back to put on a little bit of pressure, some heat. We didn't want you just for contributing. We knew about Sacramento, half the cops up there did too, but they said there was no way they could convict. So we did the job here."
"Some cop, you sonofabitch."
"Sam was Undercover on you. He had everything he needed except some violence, something real solid we could hang you for. Lonny volunteered for the job. When he came back the other night, he was wired for sound. We heard everything you said and he said in the living room, then in the car. We didn't count on you being so good with a knife."
"I want to see a good lawyer."
"There ain't any that good, Brit."
"My car, how did you trick me with that body in my car?"
"Easy. Sam set it up the night Lonny was killed. He borrowed a car exactly like yours. Look at the license plate on that picture and you'll see it's smeared with mud. It wasn't your car, but it worked."
"At least I won't have to worry about that damned racquet ball tournament."
"That's right, Brit, not for at least fourteen years."
"Where's Sam? I always like to shake hands with the winner." , "My guess is that he's gone back to a plain little house down the road about three miles to talk again to a mother who Sam made a promise to. A promise that her little boy wouldn't get hurt. A promise that Sam Simon couldn't keep."
Brit snorted. "Yeah, baby, things are rough all over. Which way to the lockup?"
